Zucchini Rice Salad; missing friends — 8 Comments

    • I was very surprised… It’s been almost 3 years since they’ve been there, but it’s the only logical explanation. Normally, when we travel they don’t go with us and never see the suitcase go in the car as they are at the kennel

  1. I’m so sorry. I remember your saying that when it happened. And I feel bad for your doggies as well. Animals grieve too.

    I find that pine nuts leave an odd aftertaste. Maybe it’s just me. I can’t eat cilantro either. That tastes like soap. :/ But I could do this salad without the nuts of course 😉

    • It was really sad seeing them so excited. It was the only place they got to go on holiday lol. Most people don’t want 2 big dogs visiting.
      I can’t eat cilantro either. ! leaf in a salad and I’m done. Skip the nuts

  2. Hmmm, perhaps I shouldn’t despair about our zucchini then? (They are looking pretty dismal right now!)

    I remember talking to my dad about how I still missed a dear friend who had died about two years previously. He nodded sagely and said softly, “Yes, I still really miss talking to Tom.” (Tom had been gone for over fifty years.) Maybe that’s how it is with the really great friends. We hold them closely to our hearts for the rest of our lives.

    It seems that your dogs are doing the same with your friend. How heartbreakingly lovely.

    • There is hope for your zucchini…. always.
      As to missing friends – yes they are always with us.
      What a wonderful friend Tom must have been to your dad

      • He was indeed. And yes, our missing friends are always with us, aren’t they? This is somehow exceedingly comforting.

        I’m afraid there is no hope for our zucchini. It has collapsed entirely. However, all is not lost. With its collapse, the red okra plants that I thought had not even sprouted have revealed themselves! Maybe, by a miracle, we will have one or two okra pods….

        • Vegetables are never reliable. I am normally overwhelmed with green beans by the end of August, having eaten them every day for weeks with no end in sight. Yesterday I picked the first, small handful of the year.