Slight Detour: Zucchini Season

It's the official start for zucchini season at the Lovestead.

I plucked my first zucchini from the vine, and I'm happy to see many others at various stages of growth.

Some I'll let grow; others, I'll harvest when they are still relatively small, which makes them great for slicing up and adding to salads.

This morning's early pickings also include lettuce and some dill.

I mainly grow dill for the pleasant garden-rich smell it puts out, and, of course, dill is good in salads.

Some may start to worry and feel a sense of dread that the legendary zucchini giveaway is in its initial stages and that it's time to watch out when someone pulls into your driveway, opens the back door of the car and brings out several free zucchini.

I would not do such a thing to my friends, who probably have zucchini in their own gardens. Happily, I know that there are needs at the Bonner Community Food Bank.

So, my excess zucchini will go there.

Zucchini tend to get a bad rap, especially those giant varieties because they're always available from friends for a less than cheap price.

I must speak up for these much-maligned squash.

After all, a giant zucchini once saved me from Little Raindrop.

Little Raindrop, who also had a conventional name, was traveling through Sandpoint. He was a friend of one of my former students who lived in New York at the time.

The student had told Little Raindrop that if he came to Sandpoint, to look up Mrs. Love.

So, he called me one day.

After a brief conversation, I was told to meet him at a store down next to the Panida Theater.

This meeting took place on the same day that I was planning to enter some of my garden vegetables, including a giant zucchini, to the fair.

I told him that I would make a run to town to say hello and that it would be short because I had to take my zucchini to the fair.

Well, when I met Little Raindrop, it was obvious that he had some cultural amenities that didn't exactly match the general population of Sandpoint, Idaho.

I don't know if it was the several-foot-long dread locks or the all-white pajama-type garments he was wearing.

When we met, Little Raindrop looked straight into my eyes and softly told me how he'd heard about me from my student.

I tried small talk, but it seemed meaningless to this new friend. He was all about focus, and that meant calmly convincing Marianne to do some stuff she never would done at any other time in her life.

Eventually, he summoned me through a hallway and into the lobby area of the Panida Theater.

The next thing I knew I was actually kneeling down for Little Raindrop as he held my hands and carried on with whatever hypnotic, spiritual notion he wanted to share with me.

This is nuts, I thought. To make matters worse, I could not believe what out-of-character stuff I was doing for this perfect stranger. I was just trying to be nice because, after all, he was a friend of my former student.

I also kept thinking how it would be if anyone I knew happened to walk in and see this scene.

Little Raindrop carried on with his trances and his soft words to the point that I knew that I needed an instant means of escape.

"I have to take my zucchini to the fair," I blurted in the semi-darkness of that theater lobby.

Thankfully, Little Raindrop got the message and realized right away that this old school marm had a mission totally different from his.

We weren't connecting, and he realized it.

We said our good byes. I left him there in the theater lobby, sped to my car and headed to the fairgrounds, relieved that I had escaped from this strange encounter.

And, as you read, you may be thinking that I'm just relating another crazy dream.

Not this time.

Little Raindrop and the scene describe was for real.

If he has ever come back through Sandpoint, he has not called to say hello.

In my mind, that is a good thing.

Also, in my mind, zucchinis can be very helpful when you least suspect it.

By the way, if I recall correctly, that big squash won me a blue ribbon.

So be kind to your zucchinis, and do remember the food bank if you have extra zucchinis or any other produce. It will be appreciated.

Someone's missing her mask. Happily, for Lily, I found it this morning.

A banner day for connecting with former students.

The group above are playing an integral role in organizing this week's SHS Class of 1975 reunion. Great to see you Chris, Julie and Glory, and, you are right.

After all these years, WE are family.

Meanwhile, I had not seen E.D. Nelson (below) since about 1988 when she graduated from Sandpoint High School.

She lives in Boston and she's home for a visit with her family.

When I saw yesterday afternoon on Facebook that she had been on the top of Schweitzer a few hours before, I had a strong hunch she was probably at her parents' house, which is less than a mile away from the Lovestead.

So, I drove over, knocked on the door, and we talked for the first time since the days when she served as Student Body vice president at Sandpoint High.

It was a wonderful visit, and we have agreed to keep up with each other. Great lady!