My plan for a Year of the Cake petered out pitifully until last week, when I managed to get it back up and limping along by baking a Dark Chocolate Zucchini Bundt Cake for my friend Katherine’s belated birthday get together.

The recipe is from Serving up the Harvest by Andrea Chesman. You’d never know there was any form of vegetable in there, it’s the densest, darkest chocolate cake I’ve ever made. The leftovers were approved of and consumed by M, who is no fan of the green, but a dark chocolate aficionado.

Noola was considerably less approving, as you can see in this picture taken by Katherine.

“What the blank are you doing?! Where’s my cat food?!”

It’s raining.

Across the street, two men in bright yellow slickers are assembling a huge trampoline. Standing on the porch above them is a small red-headed boy in what looks like a superman t-shirt, shouting out his excitement.

In the spirit of “try something new”, M and I went for a bike ride on the Wallkill Valley Rail Trail yesterday. Yet again, I had fun. It would seem that my instincts for routine and the familiar have been serving me ill.

The weather was perfect, not too hot, and when pedaling along the breeze felt mighty fine.

The trail crosses an old steel bridge where there are now benches, and we took a break and sat and enjoyed the view and the passing characters.

By the time we got back to the car we’d covered just shy of 10 miles — I had a sore behind but lunch tasted fantastic!

The Shawangunk ridge above Ellenville is covered in wild blueberry (or huckleberry) bushes, which a hundred years ago supported a berry-picking industry.

While living in New York I never went to Times Square or Central Park unless friends were in from out of town; to this day I still haven’t been up the Empire State Building.

It’s the same here, there are unbelievable hikes and views just minutes from the house but we never seem to go unless we’re entertaining visitors. So it was a lucky coincidence when family came to stay at the peak of the blueberry season, and got us out of the house.

We went up to Minnewaska Preserve and followed a narrow path on the far side of the lake, climbing down the side of the mountain to where the blueberry bushes were plentiful.

Look down and see blueberries all around. Look up and see this view. Pick, pick, pick.

Afterwards we sat high up on the rocks where one of the hotels used to be, looking down at the lake and some long-distance swimmers cutting through the water with perfect form.

A couple of days after our guests left I cooked up a small batch of intensely-flavored blueberry jam.

So good. So unbelievably good.

I love it when “water garden” is on my list for the day and I wake up to the swishy sound of tires on wet road, and the patter of drops in the gutter above the bedroom window.

Can’t help feeling pleased with myself when I’ve crossed something off my to-do list before getting out of bed.

Earlier this week I happened to look out the kitchen window when a fawn and her mama walked into the yard. They were nibbling the “deer-proof” forcythia. Then the fawn picked her way back to the maple in the far corner by the brush pile and curled up under it and her mom wandered away. The little one stayed nestled under the tree, almost invisible, all day.

I was a wee bit concerned and placed a call to in-the-know friends who confirmed that this is normal. Apparently does find a safe place to stash their babies and leave them there, coming back to check on them periodically. All week I’ve seen the mom come and go leaving her fawn stashed away in the weeds for hours at a time.

This morning I was making coffee when two female deer wandered into the yard, together with the fawn who raced around in the long grass. I was watching her run crazy loops when all of a sudden there were two fawns, both racing around, up and down the hill. Hilarious.

I wasn’t able to capture them both, but here’s a glimpse of one of them – a speck of fawn at speed.

The sound in the background in Noola chewing cardboard. Still.

I ate my first salad from the garden — arugula, spinach, lettuce, wintered-over parsley, and tiny kale thinnings. So good that I had salad for lunch and dinner.

I finally planted the asparagus starts that have been stored for weeks in the basement, waiting. I dug deep, spread the octopus roots over mounds of composted cow manure, and covered them up. An investment for the future.

The cats were too busy to help — monitoring the birds outside the bathroom window,

and killing the duster,

when they weren’t occupied with sleeping.

The last of the late tulips have faded,

but the perennials along the porch have been growing fast, with new blooms appearing daily.

On Sunday evening M went to the ice cream stand and got us milkshakes, and we sat on the porch and looked at the flowers and talked about nothing, while the children across the street rode their bikes, and someone in a white pickup waved as they drove by.

I am still here, contrary to appearances. I’m working on a big jewelry project, and running out to pull weeds in the breaks. Will try to take some pictures and post some news soon.

I’m back home, resting, recovering and reorganizing after my adventures in Philadelphia during the great whiteout of 2010. I promise a detailed narrative very soon…