Mirkwood and such

Garden man

(Don't call me garden man)

Matthias's birthday falls on the same day as Frodo and Bilbo Baggins. We are shameless Tolkien fans here. So much so, that Will would not allow me to name one of our beloved family dogs after Tolkien, because it was sacrilegious or something.

I foresee a lifetime of hobbit-themed birthday parties for Matthias. (Fortunately he is fond of hobbits so far.) Hugh made an enormous spider web out of string for the party-goers to hack down. It was pretty cool. We failed, alas, to get a photo of the Smaug that Willy painted for the partiers to shoot with bow and arrows. He also made some dangerous wooden arrows and I was terrified that one of our small guests would get shot. They kept wandering into the path of the arrows and I kept having to sweep them aside.

Will's garden was an overflowing cornucopeia of jungle this year, such a joy in late summer. As I write frost has taken down most of it, but we are still eating the kale and cabbages (yum! Or not...) calendula and cilantro. Cilantro is amazing. It makes Quick-Do-Something-With-The-Tomatoes-Before-They-Rot salsa taste awesome, and it doesn't seem to die. How does a plant that grows so happily in Mexico and Vietnam survive frost in Canada? Magic, I say.