It was a cloudy day early on; it was a thunderous day mid-day; it was a sunny day for about 48 seconds and then it was a cloudy day with sporadic rainy periods. It is time for July to regain its momentum. Even Mort the pond frog seems nonplused by this weather. The foliage on the property rivals the rain forest and the flowers that have managed to bloom are holding those blossoms forever. The strawberry season has lasted long beyond its stale date with the cool temperatures that followed the hot sun of late June. Jam is plentiful at Regalridge. Our Ken is frantically pulling weeds but keeping up is an impossibility. The pond garden is in his sites now that the wood oven garden is complete. And complete it is. The gate and associated wrought iron connector is in place and functioning beautifully. The lovely red Adirondack chairs are comfortably placed with a view of the oven's innards and the river rock is strategically aligned with the borders. Planters abound and it appears geraniums have surfaced in new pots for fall colour. Even the fountain is offering up its gurgling stream of water. Lee spent the day supporting Ken's projects and sorting paperwork for the kennel club. Much progress was made.
The dogs are disinterested in this latest project, even though it is within their sphere of influence. They march past the gate without pause and, other than the Cirneco, have no interest in the area. The Hound, of course, has to be part of everything that takes the people's attention. She has managed to try out the chairs and trot through the garden paths, much to Our Ken's dismay. Old Dolly is doing well, eating her meals, enjoying treats and marching to her own drummer in the yards. Clint improves daily. Still glued to Lee, he is nevertheless able to move freely, has regained some momentum when the need arises (barking visitors are a great incentive) and is eating almost at his usual level. Billy and Rocky are warmly encouraging his rehabilitation and repatriation to the kennel. The little Welsh continue to beetle around, keeping their noses busy as they supervise every activity they are able to see. Marguerite the outdoor dog keeps a close eye on the gates and is the quintessential doorbell of Regalridge. She misses nothing.
The kennel is busy with visitors. Fiddler's rock and roll has morphed to a yodel. He is a party boy and enjoys a high level of activity in his neighbours. He misses Buddy who departed Sunday. Shadow is enjoying the yard next to the young Airedales. He has been coming to the kennel for years and has his own expectations and routine that must be followed. The week end will see a full kennel with a mix of Toys, Terriers, Herding dogs and mixes. Most have been vacationing with us for many years and trot happily up the drive to their suites.
The news of the day, however, is the wood oven. Curing was completed yesterday and the inaugural meal prepared this evening. Back ribs were the request of Our Ken. The fire building went very well with maple that was dry and burned perfectly. The timing of the heat cycle was a bit off so juggling of the wood and meat occurred with a resultant slower than anticipated finish time. All in all, though, the meal was a success with tremendously tasty, beautifully flavoured ribs. On a side note, those who know Our Ken know that he is pack rat extraordinaire. Lee had a rack for the ribs - great planning until she realized it is too large for the oven. Considering her options, she mentioned to Ken that she needed a cast iron rack and off he marched. Around the garage, out the back gate and toward the back forty he went, returning with a cast iron rack - perfect size, perfect weight, perfect for ribs. And nothing will ever, ever, ever be thrown out again . . .
The dogs are disinterested in this latest project, even though it is within their sphere of influence. They march past the gate without pause and, other than the Cirneco, have no interest in the area. The Hound, of course, has to be part of everything that takes the people's attention. She has managed to try out the chairs and trot through the garden paths, much to Our Ken's dismay. Old Dolly is doing well, eating her meals, enjoying treats and marching to her own drummer in the yards. Clint improves daily. Still glued to Lee, he is nevertheless able to move freely, has regained some momentum when the need arises (barking visitors are a great incentive) and is eating almost at his usual level. Billy and Rocky are warmly encouraging his rehabilitation and repatriation to the kennel. The little Welsh continue to beetle around, keeping their noses busy as they supervise every activity they are able to see. Marguerite the outdoor dog keeps a close eye on the gates and is the quintessential doorbell of Regalridge. She misses nothing.
The kennel is busy with visitors. Fiddler's rock and roll has morphed to a yodel. He is a party boy and enjoys a high level of activity in his neighbours. He misses Buddy who departed Sunday. Shadow is enjoying the yard next to the young Airedales. He has been coming to the kennel for years and has his own expectations and routine that must be followed. The week end will see a full kennel with a mix of Toys, Terriers, Herding dogs and mixes. Most have been vacationing with us for many years and trot happily up the drive to their suites.
The news of the day, however, is the wood oven. Curing was completed yesterday and the inaugural meal prepared this evening. Back ribs were the request of Our Ken. The fire building went very well with maple that was dry and burned perfectly. The timing of the heat cycle was a bit off so juggling of the wood and meat occurred with a resultant slower than anticipated finish time. All in all, though, the meal was a success with tremendously tasty, beautifully flavoured ribs. On a side note, those who know Our Ken know that he is pack rat extraordinaire. Lee had a rack for the ribs - great planning until she realized it is too large for the oven. Considering her options, she mentioned to Ken that she needed a cast iron rack and off he marched. Around the garage, out the back gate and toward the back forty he went, returning with a cast iron rack - perfect size, perfect weight, perfect for ribs. And nothing will ever, ever, ever be thrown out again . . .
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