All you people in the fecund, woody corridors of the East and Midwest have no idea of the toe-tapping, teeth-grinding and hand-wringing Mile Highers suffer waiting for their gardens to produce. All that moist air and black earth, those glistening hot nights; why you've been pulling peas out of your planters since March, haven't you?

Go look at Norma's post. I'll wait. See those tubs of blueberries? Tubs. Of. Blueberries. My blueberry bush looks like it's been to Mt. Sinai and back and they're flagrantly tossing these lapis gems on cereal. You know where we get blueberries in Colorado? Costco. And they taste like gunshot.

Know what's coming up here? Broccoli. That bright green cruciferous favorite of George H.W. Bush, flowering cabbages, basketfuls of bitter, tough florets left too long on the stalk. And it's time for dinner.

Mark Bittman came to the rescue (not in the flesh, though that would have been nice had he offered to cook). His aid came in the form of How to Cook Everything Vegetarian, which I'm quite liking for its informal toss-this-or-that-in approach. Turn to the aparagus gratin recipe. A riffer, Bittman offers recommendations for other gratins, including a variation for broccoli with pesto, breadcrumbs and parmesan cheese.

I did this on stovetop so as not to heat the house by firing the oven.

Broccoli Gratin by way of Bittman

Sautee broccoli in garlic and olive oil until tender.

Add 1/2 to 3/4 cup pesto  (I did a simple pesto from walnuts, basil, olive oil and salt)

Top with 1/2 cup prepared breadcrumbs (Bittman says, "homemade," whatever)

and 1 cup grated parmesan cheese.

Cover until cheese melts and broccoli is heated through.

You'll like it. Tastes a lot better than it sounds.

Grazie mille, Mark.

Mom knit this little confection for me from Textiles a Mano Rocky Road and Loopity Loop. It's the Raveneli Vest by Jeanne Abel, another clever knit-in-the-round-from-the-outside-in sort of thing. That people can think in these spatial terms renders me speechless. Mom, too. She had no idea from whence she was knitting until she bound off. Cute, isn't it? Kind of Haight-Ashbury-by-way-of-the-Mongolian-Steppe.

Speaking of Mongolia, we supped on our first yak burgers Friday night. Yak is an extremely lean meat, apparently high in Omega 3 fatty acids and other beneficial goodies. It doesn't sizzle on the grill but rather squats, browning slowly in its own time. Cook it quickly and I suspect you'd end up with hockey pucks.

Overall, we were impressed. It produces burgers that are dense and light tasting--yes, a bit like poultry but with the texture of beef. We served it with grilled potatoes and a salad of mixed greens, basil and pine nuts in a balsamic vinaigrette. A peach frozen yogurt sundae followed.

Yak, it's the new bison.

Meet Elysium. She's a clever little vest from TroubleDog Designs, a miracle of short-rowing for extra cuppage in the proper spots. I am in awe of people who can think architecturally. Jennifer Dassau, who designed this piece, imagined a vest knit side-to-side in three dimensions (and no seaming!) then realized it. Extraordinary. To have that kind of spatial intelligence, well, you could just kick Google Maps to the curb couldn't you? She fits like a glove, too. Maybe a bit too much like a glove, but that's the prude in me talking. 

Check out the short rows!

The yarn was a dream: Voodoo in the Africa colorway, a DK-weight, merino superwash from Creatively Dyed Yarn. Though it makes for a darling garment, the variegated yarn obscures those sweet short rows. Next time, a semi solid. 

All in all a tremendous success. Elysium is a great summer project: Not-too-heavy, easy-on-the-brain, and perfectly packable.

Imagine that a beautifully styled photograph of roasted beet salad occupies this spot. The cordovan-colored roots are glistening with vinaigrette and sitting atop a bed of bright, perky baby greens. Dollops of creamy white goat cheese and a handful of woody pecans punctuate the image. Everything about this shot says "languid, lazy summer" meal.

So here's reality.

I spent 30 minutes peeling and chopping the beets afterwhich I boiled them in the microwave. This resulted in a red sea of a mess when a tsunami of pink water flooded turntable. Cleaning of the microwave ensued. Eventually I drained the beets, threw them in a roasting basket and carried them out to the grill, trailing rose-colored juice through the back of the house. Then there was the chopping and roasting and cooling of pecans. The whisking and amending of the vinaigrette (a tablespoon of chopped shallot and a bit of dijon added necessary depth and tang.) The retrieving and cooling of the beets (thank goodness for big freezers). The tossing of the salad. The serving to self and husband.

It was delicious. But it was anything but languid and beautiful.

The recipe follows:

3 large beets, peeled and cubed

3 Tbs olive oil

1 Tbs minced shallot

1 tsp dijon mustard

1/4 cup rice vinegar

2 Tbs sherry vinegar

salt and fresh-ground black pepper to taste

4 oz baby arugula leaves

1/2 cup chopped, toasted pecans

2 oz goat cheese, crumbled

Instructions

Cover beets with water in a microwaveable dish. Nuke until soft. Drain. Then roast on grill in a grill basket with a splash of olive oil and salt and pepper until slightly browned. Cool. Make vinaigrette from mixing the next six ingredients. Toss everything in a large bowl.

Put cold compress on forehead.

One of the teepees at Joyful Journey Hot Springs

If you've never been to Colorado's San Luis Valley, you really must go. Really.

At 8,000 square miles, the SLV is the largest alpine valley in the world, rimmed on the east by the preening, steriodal Sangre de Cristos and on the west by the craggy San Juans. The valley floor itself is thirsty and dry and pocked with prickly pear cactus, sage and rabbitbrush. Underneath this arid expanse slosh two major aquifirs--fightin' words in these parts--but the Valley has managed to hold on to its water, making it a center for potato growing and other crops happy in harsh desert climes.

The Utes identified the Valley as a place of spiritual healing and potential. In the vernacular of the New Age movement, the SLV is an energy votex, a place where the energy is conducive to spiritual growth. Sedona, Arizona, a Mecca for votex fans, has profited from its perceived vortexes and proximity to Phoenix, whereas the SLV, far from any maddening urban crowds, remains largely undiscovered, a unique mix of Spanish and Mexican families--who have been here so long, it makes the Pilgrims seem like newbies--hardy ranchers, retirees, artists and other seekers.

We went to take the waters. The San Luis Valley has several hot springs and we chose Joyful Journey, where the water comes out of the ground at a scalding 140 degrees and loaded with lithium. The staff at Joyful Journey Hot Springs maintain three varying temperatures in the pools, which range from 98 to 110 degrees. Pool chatter is always interesting and this time spanned topics as far reaching as the Mayan calendar, cattle growth hormones, cutthroat trout, the comparative merits of Ojo Caliente--a New Mexican springs--yak meat and whether or not the pools were hot enough.

It was our first time staying in a yurt, which is a sturdy round "tent" used by Central Asian nomads. Yurts are environmentally friendly in that they sit on temporary foundations and when removed leave no trace. Given the summer heat and skylight, our yurt was sweltering when we arrived but cooled down beautfully after nightfall. After all the soaking and lolling and sweating, we slept like cats.

Morning came early to the yurt village. One denizen took it upon herself to share her morning prayers with everyone at dawn. This is endemic of life in the Valley. People come here to become enlightened and they don't care who hears.

On Saturday we mosied to Crestone, home to more than 25 religious and spiritual organizations. In addition to being one of the most beautiful small towns on earth--shaded as it is by some of Colorado's brashest peaks--it's notable for attracting a hyper-progressive citizenry. If you want to see homes built from old tires, grab a yak burger and get a colonic, check out Crestone.

As you can see, the most attractive element in this photo is the buckeye burl spindle I bought from Gypsy Wools. The roving I'm spinning is a good starter fiber, a nice, not-too-slick Wensley/Lincoln--local, I believe. I'm spinning it as part of my half-hearted participation in Ravelry's Tour de Fleece, running in sync with the Tour de France.

The above has been a treat to spin, but the result I fear is vaguely, hmmm, pubic. Perhaps plying will help.

Remember this? There are many things wrong with this garment. Starting with the fact that it doesn't stay on. Still, I wear it. Always with tights, and, more often than not, something oversized on top. One musn't run around looking like mutton dressed as lamb.

Now a friend wants to knit it and I'm in a quandry. There's no pattern, of course; you think things run in lock-step at Nake-id Knits? And I'm not sure how to solve the slippage issue. Elastic? Draw string? Elastic rigging on the inside?

The yarn, too, is no longer available, and the lady in question will no doubt want this custom sized. Which means measuring and math and sorting out the decreases.

A pattern is coming, should any of you want to emulate the tasteful cougar pictured above.

That I am finally spinning respectable yarn should inspire fireworks.

No doubt the bombs, whistles and sundry explosions rocking our neighborhood this weekend had more to do with the birth of this great country, but one can pretend.

And, to be perfectly truthful, there was a lot more cooking and consuming than yarn production: Homemade cherry-almond granola (the wonderful Carmen's recipe), grilled wild-caught, honey-glazed salmon spiked with Durango Hickory Smoked Sea Salt, wilted kale over grilled polenta, mixed-grain cheddar bisquits (courtesy of the in-house baker), wild rice salad with blue cheese in a white-wine vinaigrette, and to wrap up a long, delicious weekend with cookies-and-cream ice cream from Paleteria Chihuahua. Yo caro hilado!

Elysium is definitely not ready for her closeup; we're about a week away from that. All-in-all, this has been a fine summer project: Easily transported, very little thinking (even so, I've managed to bungle a few short-row repeats), and not too much wool in the lap. I'm delighted with the yarn, Voodoo in the Africa colorway by Creatively Dyed but am enough of a purist to wish it wasn't superwash. But that's picking at knits. This dyer's colors are dazzling and this kinetic colorway is knitting up into a sweet little piece.

That's about all the news for now. Deadlines and a camera that was happier being left at home have hampered the blogging of late. More to come.

Happy Birthday, USA.