overnight

 This happened:

More rain (of course) and perhaps a bit of wind last night brought down a tree that has been standing dead for quite some time.

Acer helping assess the situation from the Upper West Side.
Those pole beans suddenly look a lot closer, don't they, Acer?

 

The length of the bole extends all the way through the garden, east to west, compressing a section of perimeter fence which must be repaired as soon as possible. Fortunately it's the one place on the property where a gap in the six-foot perimeter paddock fence is inaccessible to the goats because of the inner garden fence of stock panels. Of course something non-goat could get into the garden from outside now - and I'm suddenly glad I didn't plant corn this year - but there's nothing I can do about that until the tree has been removed. Repairing that perimeter fence will be a job, because the it runs along the top of a steep bank covered in grape vines and precious milkweed and chin-high bee balm and many other plants. I will almost certainly do far more damage to plants than the treefall did.

Seriously. The falling tree had no way to avoid the pole bean rows and some of the jungle-like vegetation within the garden that has persisted through repeated torrential rains. A few of the stalwart catnip shrubs and fragile milkweed are on the ground. But it's quite marvelous the way the tree avoided - in some places, by inches - the raspberries, dill, okra, and blueberries. And the grapes. The beautiful grapes.

I am so grateful.

Right after taking this snap I very roughly patched that gap where the trunk is resting on the garden fence, so the goats will think twice before trying to climb up on the bole and use it for a bridge. (If just one goat gets through that gap, I can kiss the garden goodbye for 2023.) And I called a logger friend who said he will try to come by tomorrow before noon to have a look at removing the bole. I suggested he bring a friend. This is going to be at least a two-person job and I will be less than a half-person-worth of assistance. In fact, my entire role will probably be shouting - over the roar of a chainsaw - things like, "There's a tiny blueberry bush right behind you!" and "Please don't crush the raspberries, they are finally thriving!"

Fingers crossed.

~~~~~

summer

I am so happy that the struggling bean plants are producing beans!

The first big bowl of beans salad lasted about 36 hours, which included one breakfast and one midnight snack. I've already picked another batch for the second bowl. This may not be a highly productive year for beans, but I'm grateful for every one. It doesn't feel like Summer until there's a bowl of beans salad in the fridge

In other gardening news, my Occasional Helper was here this morning and we worked in the terrace garden, leveling another section about six feet square using muck from the South Paddock and old hay bedding from the Peace Pavilion. And I carefully cleared away - using my pocket knife, the smallest machete in the world - all the other plants that have been growing around three little blueberry bushes purchased last year. They are still tiny bushes, but they managed to hang on through Winter and "Spring" and are really starting to grow.

I keep yawning so wide my eyes are watering - I could fall asleep at 4 in the afternoon! But I'm going to have to shake off this lethargy and try to soak Mallow's sore hoof. Mallow is unlikely to consider this is a great idea, and he's a chunky fellow with a lot of opinions, so it may not go well. Must try though, as he's been favoring a hoof for several days and two treatments with my usual hoof medications haven't helped. On to Plan C.

~~~~~

farm report

 

Carrots!

Lettuce!

Beets!

A few days with some sun, and the new raised beds are full of activity.

Dear Gardening Pals, I need advice about radishes, please. In the snap below, does the long stem below the first leaves just mean they got leggy due to all the rain, or does it mean they weren't planted deeply enough? Is that the part that should be below ground, turning into a radish? Should I be adding a little soil along the radish rows to bury the stems? 

It probably seems funny that I'm asking for help with the plant most often recommended for toddlers to plant in My First Garden, but I really don't know anything about growing them. (And I always recommend winter squash for a child's first garden.) So any advice appreciated!

~~~~~

reaching for the light

In for a break, after what seems the first "normal" gardening session of 2023. For two solid/liquid months I've been attempting bits of garden work between rains and chores. And trying - as Jane commented in an earlier post - "not to get too attached to an idea of what the outcome of the garden will be." A perfect description.

Practicing non-attachment by admiring daylilies.
Also ferns and grapevines.

As part of my sensible goal to do more gardening at waist-height and closer to the house, I invested in two Birdie beds during a 20% off sale last Autumn. I did not expect to have to wait til June 21st to actually get the first one filled and planted, but that's how long it took, working bit by bit over many days to gather up the muddy materials to fill the base. Leaves that I chopped and saved last year. All sorts and sizes of soggy sticks from every paddock, gathered in cartloads on rare days when the mud in the paddocks was not too deep for the cart wheels. A load of shavings from cleaning out the hen suite and barn. Also layers of actual mucky mud, which is so heavy it had to wait for days when my Occasional Helper could be here to fill a bin and heave it into a raised bed.

On the afternoon when I could finally start plinking tiny seeds into the soil, thunder began to roll in and I had to finish up quickly and hustle through evening barn chores. Not quite fast enough, though - the deluge arrived in full force, escorted by thunder and lightning. Since I was already soaked, I thought about finishing up the chores before heading back to the house, but the chores would have required standing in water and wrestling with metal gates, so instead I sheltered in the barn with Azalea and Hazel as lightning cracked overhead. We had a cozy visit after agreeing by mutual consent to talk about anything but the weather.

And look at the first raised bed, just one week and more rains later!

Actual rows of seedlings! My thrill level was off the charts.

Three kinds of greens, two kinds of broccoli,
and an assortment of radishes.

The second bed was filled and planted on the 28th, also just before a thunderstorm. This morning I checked, and radishes - planted between rows of carrots - are already reaching for the light. I've never been able to grow carrots here, so that bed will get a lot of checking. And I usually don't plant radishes at all, but this could be the Year of the Radish.

Many tall plants, including bee balm, have been flattened by the rains,
but some milkweed has managed to stand.

Back in the first week of June, I planted pole beans, along with dill, okra, and kale, in the terrace garden. In the wet weeks that followed, it seemed likely many seeds would rot in the ground, and I just had to wait for things to dry out at least a little before replanting or working in what is usually my main vegetable garden.

Roughly 80% of the 2023 blueberry harvest.

Well, yesterday and today have been beautiful days! Today the terrace garden area was more accessible, and not just a saturated and dripping jungle of undergrowth. I puttered happily, smacking mosquitoes, pulling up goat snacks for the boys who followed me down, and releasing the few tiny dill seedlings and young okra plants from an overstory of galinsoga and catnip. I patched two rows of bean netting while apologizing to the scant bean plants for borrowing their stock-panel trellising back in May for short-term goat use. The netting was intended as a "starter" trellis to be supported by reinstalled stock panels long before the beans needed the height. But I was never able to get into the terrace garden to replace the panels, and as much as I miss my lovely stock panels in the terrace garden, I imagine the pole beans miss them more. The good news is, I've used the panels to divide the Upper West Side in a new way, so that most of the herd can now access that area simultaneously but in two groups. Which is especially nice when the sun is finally shining after they've spent days cooped up in a shelter or walking along bits of scrap lumber to keep their feet out of the muck.

Doesn't it look like this bee is hugging the flower?

That's how I feel today.

~~~~~

trying

 

A Peasant Woman Digging in Front of Her Cottage
Vincent van Gogh
1880

We've been having rain.

Frequent rain. Possibly daily rain.

But in a rather peculiar way.

It won't be raining. Then it will be raining, sometimes quite hard.

Then - and by "then" I mean 5 to 15 minutes after a person senses rain coming and rushes around getting all the on-deck hay and lawn chaises under cover - the rain stops. Sometimes the sun comes out. Sometimes it never went away, and there's been a 5-minute sunshower downpour.

We are at the point of General Vegetative Abundance where even five minutes of rain means that being outdoors afterward means wading through soaking wet undergrowth. Exposed soil in a garden bed might be bone-dry a centimeter beneath the surface, but by gosh, the surrounding vegetation is dripping.

I'm beginning to think I need more than one pair of work trousers.

I'm trying not to panic about the vegetable garden which barely exists. First, the usual planting was delayed by the seasonal oddness - and considering how many on-time plantings in my neck of the woods were hit hard by the 26F night in late May, I feel I made the right choice there. But in June, when I fully expected to plant the entire garden in the first week, I've been stymied by a combination of intermittent rain and necessary hours of goat-combing. Also by time spent driving - and then recovering from driving - to various appointments. Does it sound like I'm making excuses? Maybe I am, but it feels more like I'm...trying.

How are your gardens coming along? Has unusual weather this year had an impact on your gardening plans or your plants?

~~~~~

happening

I love the brief period each Spring when forested landscapes
 look a bit like pointillistic paintings.

Things start happening fast at this time of year, even when the weather is all over the place. It was 32F this morning but when I visited the terrace garden to ponder a redesign, I discovered that the raspberry canes which had appeared completely dormant a few days ago are now sprouting leaves in lush abundance. Since part of the garden redesign directly involves the raspberry plants, I'd better get on it right away. Like yesterday.

A couple of years ago, I decided to level a section of the very sloped terrace garden. The project began with creating a retaining barrier at the downslope end, about 18 feet long and a couple of feet high, just above the raspberry plants. I built it using salvaged saplings dragged across the paddocks and pinned into place with metal fenceposts. Then I moved some of the soil from the uphill end of the plot to the downhill end, and spread a barn's-worth of used goat bedding over the whole thing. The result was a thrillingly level plot of about 18 feet by 12 feet.

This part of the terrace garden is where I usually grow lots of pole beans, and last year I reduced the bean rows from three to two so I could plant tomatoes and Turkish peppers there as well. And of course, zinnias, planted in a single row just above the raspberries, at the very edge of the retaining barrier. I may have been a bit unrealistic about the amount of space required by some of these plants; getting in amongst the tomatoes without treading on any stems - or tomatoes - was quite a trick by August. And the poor zinnias were growing in all sorts of leggy directions to access the bits of sunlight not already occupied by either the waving stems of raspberries to the West or the shrubby jungle of tomatoes to the East. They tried so hard!

Revisiting the glorious zinnias of 2019

I really missed having a wide  row of colorful zinnias last summer, and will plan better this year. But I'm also hoping to level out more of the terrace area, because it's so much more relaxing to work in the garden when I'm not at frequent risk of tumbling over.

Speaking of which, has anyone else noticed that doctors have started asking, "have you had any falls recently?" The first time, I was startled that a doctor could tell how clumsy I am just from the way I walked into the exam room! But when the same question came up again at my next annual physical, I decided it's one of those "age" things. I always answer honestly, of course, and the answer is always the same: "Yes, but not for no reason."

~~~~~

winter cheer

I think Della speaks for the entire household today.

Outside it's very cold and murkily grey, and everything is covered in a sheet of ice. Doing chores last night, I had to punch my boot heel into the ice crust every time I took a step, in order to stay on my feet. The cleated boots came out this morning for the first time all Winter.

There's been a lot of this lately:

For a person who has enjoyed - well, let's say "reluctantly swallowed" - coffee about once every two years over a long lifetime, I am making up for it now with a taste for Turkish coffee. I started out making an occasional traditional serving, in a traditional cezve, and drinking it in a tiny cup, unfiltered. A bit of a pleasant ritual. Only one "local" shop carries this coffee. It's in the same town as Faraway Feedstore, so an 8-ounce can of Mehmet Efendi has been on the list for that every-few-months trip.

Well. There's been a gradual uptick in indulgence over a couple of years, and this Winter I've been brewing an entire quart, filtering it, then refrigerating and doling out daily for iced coffee with lots of milk. I recently made the feedstore trip and now the cupboard holds two cans of coffee. 16-ounce cans. Felt very much like getting in a load of hay.

It's so refreshing to the eye to see green, isn't it? I'm trying to keep a few little spearmint plants alive until they can go forth and multiply in the Spring. There hasn't been spearmint growing here in many years, but I am going to try very hard to reintroduce it in 2023.

And speaking of refreshing colors and reintroductions:

Several years ago, I saw the first bluebird here. It was tremendously exciting, and a couple of years later when I saw a pair, I hoped they would decide to stay nearby and visit the feeders often. Then there seemed to be a lull. Well, it's taken a while, but this Winter there have been five or six bluebirds visiting every day! I've added daily mealworms - the very nicest mealworms! - to my hulled sunflower seed and suet buffet. I've been trying and trying to get nice photographs to post for you, but this is the best so far. Stay tuned: someday the sun will be shining and the windows will be washed and the birds will be sitting still, all at the same time.

I hope you are having a lovely weekend, with the companions and activities and beverages you most enjoy!

~~~~~

more light

In Autumn 2021, I was once again pondering buying a small greenhouse - KB, are you here? You gave me some very helpful guidance based on your two greenhouses, thank you again. The greenhouse decision rolls around every Autumn. But in 2021, after many weeks of research and pencil-chewing, I came up with sufficient justification and a budget for a kit. For about 24 hours I was SO excited about finally deciding to invest in a greenhouse - a dream for over 30 years!

Then I took a hard look at my current ability to assemble a greenhouse. This put a stop to my gallop. I started wondering who I could hire to do it for me, and what it could cost. It's not a simple task. And it takes multiple people. Site preparation possibly requiring a digger? Oh my. Then, the (all too familiar) question came up: where on my forested property would a greenhouse have enough light?

Overnight it occurred to me to build the goats an extension on the barn instead. (I know. You might not want to go shopping with me.)

West side, framing underway.

I sketched up the design but it was built by Actual Professionals, which is why things look so neat and level and square. The whole construction process was remarkably quick. Usually I don't enjoy standing idly by watching other people work, but this time I just stayed out of the way and took a few snaps every day.

My idea was, that with another 20x8' shelter that can be divided - in minutes! - into two, three, or four little open stalls, more goats could happily share the barn area without intimidation or fisticuffs. I'm pretty pleased with the design. It's a pleasant, flexible, run-in shed. I call it the Peace Pavilion.

the southwest corner

It's been about as successful as all my previous peacekeeping missions in Goat World: i.e., improvement, not perfection. But it's also a very bright and airy place for hoof trimming and cashmere combing! Here, Fern prepares to demonstrate in April 2022:

And although it's not a greenhouse - remember the greenhouse? - the roof is clear corrugated panels, so there is plenty of light, at least until leaf-out. There are also big corrugated windows on the east and west walls, and the south side is completely open. So I told the goats right from the get-go that the southwest "stall" might be seasonally commandeered for use as a seed-starting area. Last Spring I was too busy with extended cashmere harvesting to close off that corner for starting seeds, but this year it could happen.

Fern says, "Really? You're expecting
an easier cashmere harvest this year?"

Hmmm. You have a point, Fernie. Well, we'll see.

By the way, one last comment about light.

Here's what I did with the floss from the milkweed seeds:

And here's why:

magic lantern!
~~~~~

more seedy thoughts

Speaking of growing things, I'm almost positive that I've got all my flower and vegetable seeds for Gardens 2023.  My two favorite varieties of pole bean don't seem to be available anywhere, so I'm going to be trying a yellow romano-type pole bean, and will also plant a lot of the filet pole bean seeds that I've saved from years past. Fingers crossed there'll be some success there, as beans are one crop I've had very good luck with almost every year.

sample of Gardening Plans 2023

Doing more gardening with less leaning has become increasingly important, and after pricing lumber to build a couple of new raised beds last Autumn, I ordered two metal raised beds. You've probably seen these advertised, as I think they are becoming increasingly popular: modular, powder-coated, corrugated tubs. Mine are Birdies brand from Australia, and a brief 20% discount for followers of an Australian YouTube gardening channel clinched my decision. I've assembled them and now it's a matter of placement, which is turning out to be tricky. Finding spots with adequate light is always a challenge here, and these tubs are not going to be moveable - at least not without a lot of work - so I need to choose carefully. Also, one totally unforeseen factor is that big metal tubs - even pretty, pale green ones - are very, very noticeable in my comfortably wildish landscape. I think my Occasional Helper used the term "comparatively industrial." I can think of places to put them where they would look quite nice (such as next to the house) but would not have enough light, and I can think of places to put them where they might have enough light but would be almost jarring to the eye. An odd problem! They will probably look more at home once things are growing in and around them, and will likely become cherished components of the gardening scheme here. But at the moment, the decision of where to put them is proving quite a challenge. Could you all just come by, take a look around, and give me your opinions? Thanks very much!

~~~~~

free seeds

Years ago, a friend had a wooden bird feeder in the shape of a tray labelled "Free Seeds!" held by a cheerful cat. I thought of it last week when I was moving my bird feeders away from the spot where I've been enjoying them right next to my "working window," and into the small fenced-off Bird Safety Zone. In Winter, the spot by my window provided good protection from hawks amongst the hundreds of twiggy stems of Kerria japonica. But now that plants are just beginning to leaf out and the cats are spending many hours outdoors, the same shrubby quality of the Kerria becomes a liability to the birds, who may not see the cats coming. So, I've got the binocs out again and will be watching the feeders from a bit farther away.

long-distance action shot!

I still have two tiny suction-cup feeders stuck to porch windows, but only the boldest birds use them, and they are difficult to clean and fill, so they may soon come down in favor of window screens. But first I'm going to see if most of the birds will become comfortable using the feeders in the Safety Zone. With the trees not yet leafed out, that area probably feels dangerously exposed and many of the birds seem reluctant to make the transition. Time will tell.

~~~

We've had some interesting weather fluctuations lately.

Epimedium

Podophyllum peltatum - Mayapple

Sanguinaria canadensis - Bloodroot

And this afternoon it's raining. Heavily. Again.

Moxie, the gardening cat, has been helping me take down the yarn bean trellis and salvage the yarn for reuse this year, but we won't be doing more garden work today.

It seems a great many people who don't usually garden are planning to grow vegetables this year, which is great - I'm very happy to think more people are going to have their hands in soil and experience the thrill-ride that is gardening. But this unexpected increase in gardeners also means seed companies have been overwhelmed with orders and many have already sold out of some stock. Luckily, I already have most of my seed, saved from last year. But there are always a few special seeds or plants to order,  and even a month ago I was having trouble finding them. So my 2020 Gardens may be different from what I had planned, but that's fine - and in a way, it could be said every year.

One thing I will certainly plant this year is Candy Roaster squash.

Portrait: on the vine

In recent years I've experimented with planting Candy Roasters in various locations, in raised beds, in hills, amongst corn rows, and on arched stockpanel trellis. I liked the arches, and if I can manage to construct them, will add more this year.

Candy Roaster arch, 2019

"Free Seeds!" I have plenty of seed from my organically-grown 2019 Candy Roasters, and will be glad to send some to anyone who would like to plant them. Whether you are an Old Hand or a Brand New gardener, if you've got room for massive vines and a way to provide water in a dry season, why not give it a go? It's a winter squash, and needs to stay on the vine until Autumn frosts force a decision to bring them in, but then they keep for months and are excellent for baking, roasting (or course), soups, "pumpkin" pies or breads, all sorts of things.

So, if you would like some Candy Roaster seeds, drop me an email with your mailing address and I'll send some along. Don't be shy! I'd love to introduce more people to this squash, which I learned about several years ago from my blog-pal Tipper, over at Blind Pig and the Acorn. Forever grateful, Tipper!

~~~~~

not the last garden report but close

The goats have been reveling in the sun between the rain, but haven't been invited into the big garden for a free-choice end-of-summer picnic this year.

A few of the okra plants are still blooming, and the chard is still growing just a bit faster than it is being eaten by insects; perhaps the same insects that have turned my Portuguese kale into lace.

LOTS of zinnias are still blooming!

The orange, yellow, and purple of this one are stunning.

I think that little bug is transfixed at the sight.

Candy roaster squash remain in the garden until a hard frost becomes likely, and I don't want the goats anywhere near them. Remember the time goats got into the garden for a matter of minutes and some rascal took one or two bites out of every one of the pumpkins?

We've had some cold nights, but Wednesday night was the first time I'm sure the temperature went below freezing. So now the candy roasters come in.

Leaf frozen into ice on the surface of a water bucket.

Yesterday I harvested these two candy roasters, each about 16 inches long. Today I'll harvest three more from the Very Raised Bed, and get busy making puree.

One of the last Jing okra blossoms. How I love these plants, both the Jing and the Bear Creek, with their different colors but equally exquisite features! The flowers have been repeatedly photographed, drawn, and painted.

I missed eating a lot of the pods because I couldn't seem to get the timing right for picking enough of the same small size to justify heating up the skillet. The ones I fried were good, though, and some of the older pods were cut up for the goats. I realized belatedly that I could have tried picking and freezing individual small pods and cooking them when I had accumulated a good number - why didn't I think of that? Maybe next year. Okra has earned annual planting in a prominent location, as an ornamental with bonus edible pods.

On the left in the picture above are two Minnesota Midget melons.

A couple of late melon vines produced tiny fruits recently, even as the vines were withering - the one pictured below is the size of a tennis ball. All in all, these melons were mostly a novelty. Small fruits are fine with me, a perfect snack size, but the flavor was very faint. This may also have been a result of all the rain, though, so unless I plant them again I may never know.

2018 was a tough year for my Suyo Long cucumbers. The vines struggled, and managed to produce only a few cucumbers. The endless rain took a toll on the early health of the plants, and there may have been an insect or disease problem related to the nearby milkweed - further research is needed on this before next year.

But that rain! Many plants - both cultivated and wild - struggled for survival at a time when they normally would have been blooming madly. Later, when we finally got some intermittent fair weather, the plants rallied and put on a second growth that allowed some flowering though still not what a typical year would have produced. This included the bee balm, anise hyssop, yarrow - which has not bloomed - chelona, and other pollen providers. For this reason, I let everything grow everywhere, even if it meant some of my garden paths became impassible and the bank garden by the driveway turned into a riot of jewelweed and motherwort. It all looked a bit of a wilderness, but at least there were some flowers available for the bees and butterflies and hummingbirds and photographers.

The big producer in the terrace garden was the beans; a very nice change after last year's two-handful harvest. I made bean salad over and over again, and never got tired of eating it at all hours. I picked beans for friends who happened by, and I froze many packets of whole beans to enjoy when the garden is resting this winter.

After years of growing different types of pole beans, this is my favorite. Tender and flavorful - either as a pencil-thin whole bean, or as a slightly older and larger snap bean, lightly steamed and added to bean salads. They are the only bean I've found to be truly "stringless." 

I've left lots of beans for next year's seed, and with luck they will dry thoroughly before we get a lot more rain. In the past I've had better luck drying pods on the vine than bringing them inside to finish drying. There isn't much room for such endeavors in the house. Even the bee balm heads I was drying on the porch windowsills have been getting swept off and stepped on and batted around. I'll just collect more bee balm seed heads and scatter them in areas where I hope bee balm will appear next Spring.

One last picture, from the new raised bed: organic catnip, grown from seed. The catnip also took a long time to take hold (again, with the rain) but look at it now! I'll harvest and dry some soon. Exciting times ahead for Moxie and Della, if we get deep snow and they spend long Winter days mostly indoors.

Are any southern hemisphere readers just starting their gardens?

Do tell, please!

~~~~~

waving a trowel

Greetings from the gardens! We've had several days without rain, but some extreme heat and humidity - Heat Index of 100F or higher. Today was lovely by comparison, and I spent much of the day very happily puttering in the paddocks and the gardens.

Plants that struggled to grow through the weeks of deluge have been rallying and are now growing and blooming at a great rate. I've brought a few pictures from the garden to share, but first: a question for the chard-lovers among you.

How do you like to prepare it? Some of the chard plants are now growing fast enough that - by moving briskly - I can occasionally pick a few leaves before the bugs devour them.

So far, I've taken my usual approach to a vegetable: eating it raw. This is sometimes as far as I need to go - lots of things are delicious raw. But with chard, well, I'm positive there is a better way. Alternative suggestions welcome and requested.

The highbush blueberries by the workshop are done for the year - and a surprisingly fine year it has been for these precious gems, considering all the days of hard rain. Quite often I picked my daily handful by running out between rainstorms.

My last little handful of 2018 was enjoyed earlier this week, and I left the few remaining berries ripening on the bush for the wildlife to enjoy the next day. Fair's fair.

I say "wildlife" not "birds," because I'm not sure exactly who I share the blueberries with anymore. I even saw a tiny mouse in the birdfeeder, five feet off the ground, the other day. Shinnying up that pole and then vaulting over to the feeder is quite a feat, even for the intrepid squirrels and a thrill-seeking chipmunk. When I walked past the feeder and saw a mouse peeping at me from eye level, it was quite a surprise.

Speaking of tiny things, I've discovered three Minnesota Midget Melons in the garden so far. The largest is about the size of a softball, as expected. People who have grown these melons describe them as "individual-serving." I'm hoping to find out, but it will be a while before they ripen. Meanwhile, they remain as safe as possible from predators, hidden in the undergrowth.

Massive vines are producing my favorite winter squash - candy roaster - in the undergrowth as well, but some individuals are no longer able to hide very well. This one is probably 20 inches long and it appears to have grown considerably larger each time I see it:

But today I noticed this little candy roaster on a trellis, cleverly disguised to blend in with the neighboring pole beans:

I'm still picking pole beans every day or two, eating some and tucking some into the freezer. My fondness for bean salad is unabated:

So good.

~~~~~