Though it wasn’t raining, the patio and furniture were still wet, so we met inside the Overhill house, at least 18 of us, not sure, some were going in and out of oohing and aahing at the new chicks who are much larger and safely into a larger cage in the greenhouse for now.
The great thing about this particular house is there are numerous places to gather: den —
— living room, here the couch graced by Devin and Jim. Keep note of these two names, as they come up soon again in this post. BTW: they pointed out to me that they were wearing near-identical red shirts!
Also in the living room, a close-up of beautiful Wyatt with his Mom Carissa. They live across the street, and stopped in after visiting the chickens. They would have stayed, but it was his bedtime. Dad Logan and Ollie, their five year old, didn’t come at all, because they were, says Carissa, “deep into legos.”
And, of course, this time of year, screened porch: Dan, Daisy, Jenny, and Alex.
Odd. This was the first time in living memory that a bunch of us weren’t also sitting at the kitchen table! Perhaps because it was hotter in there, due to recent baking? The dish of the night was, as usual, Jim’s, a humongous and gloriously delicious spanokopita of which, unfortunately I forgot to get a solo shot. This man is truly a Cook.
Here’s part of the the spread, however.
Eva’s dessert, this time, was what she claims is called as “Sex in a pan,:” composed of layers of various creams and cheeses, I think she said, with walnuts, honey, and not sure what else. So risque I’m glad I didn’t take a pic! Sex in a pan, however, had to vie with homemade rice crispy bars, just for old times’ sake. Not sure who brought ’em.
Right as Devin (the other red shirt, above) arrived, I marched him out to the front yard, to ask about the little plum tree,
which last year, for the first time ever (it’s been there maybe 10 years!) sported lots of plums, all of which then dropped suddenly and unaccountably in an unripe state. This year I noticed that the tree was full of not just little plumlets as before, but a humungous number of what Devin called “canks” (or “kanks”?), 
which he says are like mold, there because of too much moisture with NOT ENOUGH SUN. That’s for sure. This little tree was planted by a young permaculturist along with four others in the front yard way back then, and now the yard is like a forest. This fruit tree only gets, as Devin (who is the long-time groundskeeper for the President’s mansion at Indiana University) pointed out, about one hour of direct sunlight a day.
“Ah yes. Look at it!” I said. “It’s leaning in the direction of the 11 am morning sun!”
He looked directly in my eyes and pronounced, as gently as possible: “I’d cut it down.”
Oh!
Oops!
Well, duh! It’s either that or cut the others down. Better to lose one tree than all of them.
I told Rebecca his conclusion, and she said, yes, that’s what she had just decided, too.
This little story reminds me of the new issue of Permaculture Design magazine. It that arrived two days ago, with the theme “Learning from our mistakes.”
