I'm sure everyone is saying, "Not more pancakes with fresh fruit!" It seems I cannot get enough - I'm even videotaping closeup shots of succulent strawberries dripping in plum syrup, purple grapes sliced in half with several tiny seeds hidden in the middle, and bananas carefully sliced into little halves. The kiwi was sullen and lacked color, but I added her anyway, little tart. And, this was a debut for my beloved huckleberries, which have been labeled "Hands Off" in my freezer. They are such a delicacy that they will be strictly ornamental.

With the colder weather and rain, one cannot help but search the pantry and refrigerator for little taste thrills, for a possible project that will fill the hours and the tummy. I've baked whole wheat bread, three loaves at a time, and served it with a cabbage-meatball casserole. This is somewhat like stuffed cabbage rolls, except that one can see the ingredients individually (photo shows this casserole just before I popped it into the oven). I put a little wheat germ and rice in the meatballs, and I've dolloped homemade tomato sauce over the works. For a crunchy topping, I add a sprinkling of broccoli slaw and shredded cheddar-Swiss cheese.

I told George that we need to grow collards again, as we have for years, as they are so nutritious, and quite flavorful when cooked with bratwurst, onion, and carrots in chicken broth. This simmered on the stove for an hour and a half, and I brought out whole wheat bread, buttered, as a side dish. When I roast a turkey, I save some of it, to throw into the pot with the collards. It is an especially aromatic soup.

On my walks throughout the neighborhood, I've noticed woodsmoke in the early morning. The horse-chestnuts have dropped their seed-pods. Squirrels are hoarding seeds and nuts, burying them in people's flowerbeds. So many maples have turned, and it is now quite chilly at night. I love this time of year, for the changes, the anticipation of warmth and nourishment, and I savor the memories of my summer, especially grateful for the six camping trips we had, most of them with our children.

There is an apple tree up the Duckabush River over by the Hood Canal. We happened upon it last fall, this time, and it was filled with little perfect red apples, so sweet and crisp, just waiting to be picked. If we don't go there to collect the apples, they will lay wasted on the ground, unnoticed. Nearby are quince, in a little forest. I told George I'd like to visit this old abandoned orchard on the weekend - we have to canoe upriver to get there. I want to see if the apples and quince are still there. I have plans for them, if they are!