Friendship Mitts on the needles today and no, I'm not hankering for fall! I needed something mindless to keep my hands busy and this is just the thing.

Notice my deluxe stitch markers; made with love by dad and the envy of many a knitting friend. Every time I move one from left to right as I go round and round I think of him peering through his tiny glasses making the beads just right. And then my knitting looks more beautiful to me, and my heart swells and bursts as love pours out into the yarn. When they're finished I give them away - and all that swelling and bursting and pouring moves farther into the world, one person at a time.

What is better than eating summer corn? Why, shucking it of course!



I wish these deep summer sighs would last.

Looking at life through my own Sweet Peas makes the things I have look so much more valuable. A presence in the kitchen, pressing tiny hands into bread dough; outside that window, boys play in rare washes of sunlight.

Silence leaves room for human voices, and welcomes laughter and thought; it opens gardens where eyes meet and hearts lock; where love is given the strength to get up yet one more time to dust cheeks with good night kisses.

This tiny life seems quite wonderful, after all.

Ever planted Swiss Chard in your garden and not known what to do with it? This recipe is an original handed down to me by a sweet Swiss woman. I learned in her kitchen, under merciless scrutiny!

Here's Esther's recipe for Summer Swiss Chard:



First, season and brown ground beef until done.



While it's cooking, wash and chop the chard (leaves and stalks, please). Boil these in salted water for about five minutes or until white pieces are tender. Drain.



Whip up a bechamel sauce to a thick consistency, season to taste, and add drained and boiled chard.



Line a pan with the ground beef, pour the bechamel melange over the top and - as a good Swiss sous-chef always does - cover the entire thing with Raclette cheese, or any good cheese that melts well.



Pop it in the oven until the cheese gets melty and starts to bubble.

Bon appétit!

Philip Gulley writes in Home to Harmony:

"Thus are the changes wrought in a man's life - that courage is treasured more than comfort and, in that choice, victory is gained."



The first time hubby asked me to drive his Vespa, he took me to a roundabout and nearly got us both killed. I wouldn't take to the driver's seat for years after that.

But I've been bothered by the fact that I didn't get back on the proverbial horse...and yesterday was my day to do it.



This is my first official Vespa lesson - in a parking lot this time - and after thirty minutes of training, I was already speeding up to 40 km/hr and stopping short, zig-zagging around apples he'd strategically placed in the street. My ultimate goal is to fly around town in a little summer skirt and sandals ... dreaming of Rome and other "exotic" cities that speak to a Vespa-paradise. (Let me have my fantasy, people!).

Courage, did you say? I'll post again the day I get my license!

A chapel sits beside the inn, housing an intricate scale model of Lucelle's once thriving monastery. Naturally, we had to go inside!



Three stained glass windows reminded me of some of the images Randy has been posting from Santa Fe. http://santafedailyphoto.blogspot.com/ (I'm sorry... I don't know how to paste a real link. Help, anyone?).

:)



Can you identify the saints? I would love to know who they are.







And then we golfed ... in the courtyard just adjacent to the holy sanctuary. Have I told you how much I love France?

In the backwoods of France, quite on the Swiss boarder, is an old coaching inn. And since we've been having such rainy (depressing) weather, we thought we'd drive up to see it.



Switzerland is not green by happenstance - it is green because it RAINS!



In the courtyard behind the inn is a miniature golf course - French style. That means that things are not bolted down with precision made high-quality stainless steel parts, and that if your kids trip over things and hurt themselves... Ah bon? Fallait faire attention!




The French put beauty and charm over functionality. They are not, as the Swiss would say, "always very practical"!



Thank goodness.



I always leave France wondering why I waited so long to come back!