Summer in Oregon is never really a predictable thing. Sometimes the sun let's us have Easter in sundresses, and sometimes it rains through Memorial Day, the Rose Festival, the first day of summer, the 4th of July, and runs screaming straight into fall.
So, it's no wonder that in my dad's garden, the shelling peas are now reaching maturation, and the garlic spears have finally poked their heads out to say hello. In fact, the entire garden is a mismatch of spring and summer fruits.
No complaints on this end, though. As soon as I can get to picking, I'm going to make a casserole of wild rice, fresh green onions, and garlic scapes. Nevermind that they're a few months late-- what a treat!
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