What a busy weekend for our family. We had a wonderful end-of-summer soiree in the vegetable garden. I was able to pick a boatload of potatoes to serve to the guests. I cut them into small chunks, added an entire stick of butter (no water) and steamed them in a cast-iron Dutch oven over a charcoal fire.

We enjoyed tons of vegetables raw in salads. Grandson Christian ground up some Canada goose into burger patties. Everyone brave enough to try them was pleasantly surprised.

Also, in a big cast-iron covered pot, I cooked up the end of last year’s pork. This was a planned dish to prepare us for the demise of this year’s pigs the next day.

I am happy to report that all went well. It is not something to take lightly . . . the taking of a life for human consumption; a respectful attitude is a must.

As serendipity would have it — new life arrived this week in the form of baby chicks. It’s a big deal at the post office when they arrive. Everyone needs to peek at them on the way to the truck. They make quite a racket. They hatched out a couple of days before and made a long trip from a hatchery in Iowa. They do not need food or water for up to three days after hatching. It is nature’s way of assuring the well-being of the first hatched while Mom is still on the nest waiting for more to come along.

At any rate, these are Cornish game hens which should be table-ready in about eight weeks. I never get around to the task of dispatching them in a timely fashion, so the next thing you know they are eight pounders. We call them holiday birds but have to keep moving to the next holiday.

In my perfect world they would all be in the freezer by Thanksgiving.

I ate some fabulous golden bantam corn right in the garden. It was only about four inches long but the sweetest little cob ever.

Golden bantam is an open-pollinated, non-hybrid heirloom corn from the early 20th century. It has not been genetically modified as have many, if not all, of its modern cousins. It takes 80 days to mature so I plant it mid June to avoid some of the insect pests. This batch was wormless, but that may be just dumb luck.

For years, I have believed the old wives’ tale that if more than half of the cows in a field are lying down it will rain.

Friday, in a light drizzle, I saw all of Freddie’s cows down in the Nip and Tuck farm field. There you have it!

I drive around in a dump truck. I have an enormous pet peeve. Has everyone forgotten the rules of the road for both vehicles and pedestrians? Why do people insist on walking on the right side with their backs to oncoming traffic — often two abreast? I confess I often stop and tell them they would have a better chance of living on the proper side of the road. You can well imagine how well it is received.

The other day I had a young man on a bicycle coming towards me on my side. He had no helmet, was wearing ear buds, was texting and smoking a cigarette. What else can I say?

What a lovely turn of events at the beginning of the week. It was nice and cool for sleeping, chilly in the morning and just right midday. I admit I got pretty darned grateful to live here and not in Colorado. I just can’t imagine a muddy river running through my house. Poor folks!

I don’t have much to say about the state of our world this week. I’m still fascinated by the Vladimir Putin op-ed in The New York Times last week. The former KGB operative lecturing us about democracy. That was rich! Wonder if a column written by President Obama would be printed in Izvestia? Or Pravda?