Last week family members traveled from the ends of the earth to converge, once again, at the big red house in upstate New York. Not everyone could make it this year (we were down one sibling, two sibs-in-law, and five cousins), but still, when there are 46 potential attendees, a 38-person attendance rate (plus the beloved childhood babysitter) isn’t anything to sneeze at.

We were there only two full days and three nights, but the time was packed full of all sorts of activities: a birthday celebration for one of the brothers at a lakeside restaurant, window shopping in downtown Corning, the first ever 5K (ish) at which both my husband and my older daughter got stung on their right ankles. There were fire circles and swimming, s’mores and pizza, beer and wine. People played cards and braided hair and ate candy and jumped on the trampoline.

The cousins slept in the big room above the garage. They dubbed themselves “Teen Club,” which we all got a big kick out of because these kids are so not like regular teens. And then they decided to get Teen Club t-shirts made.

The tag line reads, “We’re, like, sooo responsible.”

The first evening we were there, the sibs decided on whim (because Murches do everything on a whim) to go on a sunset cruise on Seneca Lake.

I was kind of hoping a big storm would blow up, just for entertainment’s sake, but no such luck. Instead, it was completely placid, which was probably just as well. We had plenty of time to visit and take photos and eat the the complimentary grapes and sundried tomato cheese curds and bread.

The next day was the big event: the 50th Wedding Anniversary dinner. We met at a lakeside hotel to feast on steak and cheesecake and celebrate the two people who gave so many of us our DNA.

At our table, the bread basket cloth caught on fire (I put it out). The long waits between courses about put the hungry kids over the edge (my younger son was beyond excited for his shrimp scampi), but they survived.

In between dinner and dessert, the kids ran outside for a quick photo shoot under a rapidly darkening sky. The fat raindrops forced us back inside just minutes later, but not before we got a bunch of photos!

Then there was a little talent show, of sorts—ukulele, piano, singing—and a recorded story by the children’s (our children’s) great grandfather.

Sunday morning, most everyone headed out. The Hong Kong contingency left first so they got the biggest send-off. We left next.

And the Tennessee cousins were last. My sister-in-law later said that, so they could have a proper send off, she and her husband drove off by themselves so their kids could run alongside their car and wave goodbye. Then they stopped the car at the edge of the property, picked them up, and drove off.

This same time, years previous: knife in the eye, glazed lemon zucchini cake, cheesy herb pizza, kiss the moon, kiss the sun, babies, boob, boo-boos, and bye-byes, the end, a birthday present for my brother, gingerbread.

This same time, years previous: my deficiency, do you strew?, a pie story, joy, the quotidian (7.30.12), blueberry torn-biscuit cobbler, a quick pop-in, a bad experiment.

These days, we’ve been drowning in food. Now that Melissa and my older son are gone, we’re down to just five mouths to feed. Plus, for three weeks running, I’ve had a kid at camp, leaving us with just four. Basically, there’s no point in cooking anymore.

Unfortunately, I can’t seem to remember that.

I make one thing—a pan (or two) of roasted zucchini parmesan or a grill-full of veggies and sausages—and then the leftovers last for days. The fridge feels stuffed (my belly, too), and we’re constantly eating to catch up, racing to eat the food before it rots.

For awhile there, I was trying to rein in my cooking compulsion (and it helped that it was so hot; watermelon for supper? yes, please!), but then this week we had an influx of garden produce— cucumbers and zucchinis, beets, cabbages from my sister-in-law—plus we’d run out of bread so there was baking to do. I was thrilled to have an excuse to kick into high gear.

 One of the cabbages I turned into curtido, a crunchy-tangy slaw to eat with beans.

The cucumbers became both dills and sweets.

The beets we’ve been eating just for anyhow and all the time.

I also like to use them in all my failed recipe experiments (see below).

Any day now, I expect to get the call that my two bushels of peaches and four bushels of nectarines are ready for pick-up. (And I have an order for four gallons of blueberries.) One of my big pet peeves is that, in the midst of all the canning and freezing, I never get around to actually baking with the fresh fruit. So this year, I’ve resolved that things will be different. In preparation for the oncoming onslaught, I’ve been arming myself by making pastries and crumbles ahead of time.

This way, when I’m up to my eyeballs in fruit, I’ll just have to run down cellar to grab a ready-made pastry, and a fresh fruit pie will be ours for the having. Can’t wait!

In the midst of all the too-much food and pre-produce-slam prep, I’ve also taken it upon myself to do some recipe experimentation.

There was a beet ice cream. I swapped out the marscapone for some honey goat cheese (using up the stuff in the fridge, go me), which I thought was rather brilliant and sophisticated. My younger son really liked the strong cheesy flavor, but my mother nearly spit hers out. My husband said the beets made the ice cream taste like dirt.

There was a coffee ice cream laced with Guiness that the kids didn’t like but that I did.

It paired nicely with the leftover piece of shoofly pie that I found in the freezer.

I made a beet cake that weirdly turned out like wet lead. Part of me wants to do a remake, and the other part never wants to make a beet cake again. (We gave the cake to my brother’s family—they’ll eat anything—but I don’t think they liked it, either.)

And then a couple days ago I made a charred tomatillo salsa.

I had high hopes, but no one, including me, liked it so off it went to the chickens.

We had company for supper last night. I served a Greek cucumber and tomato salad, roasted beets, fresh green beans, sourdough bread, watermelon, and, for dessert, vanilla ice cream and cherry-berry cobbler with cornmeal topping.

My older son is coming home on Sunday (!!!), so I’m prepping for a whole string of celebratory meals. They’ll be apple pies (more pastry) and granola and hamburgers.

And right after that, we’re going to NY for a family gathering. I want to take along some ready-made food to contribute, but I haven’t settled on anything just yet. Whatever it is must travel well and not need refrigeration. Ideas?

Maybe I’ll just churn out lots of desserts. That’d be easy enough.

Instead of my usual half bagel or piece of toast, I’ve been eating oatmeal for breakfast. I put a little oatmeal (about ¼ cup of oats, cooked) in a bowl and then top it with chia seeds, brown sugar, wheat germ, nuts, and fruit.

It keeps me going strong until noon, and sometimes even longer.

The tomatoes are starting to roll.

Today I’m finishing off a batch of roasted tomato and garlic pizza sauce. Soon we’ll make salsa, too.

We’re out of both, so yay.

Oh no! My son just brought in a very-ripe ear of corn.

Gotta dash!