no laboring

No laboring for me anyway. David did the laboring on the oysters, overnighted from Cape Cod, cleaned, popped on the grill and dressed with butter, herbs and garlic. Yum! If it weren't for him, I'd be stuck with nothing but fried catfish. Not that I don't like fried catfish—I do—but I like oysters and seafood a lot more. Fortunately, so does he.

Saucing up the oysters. They were large ones.

Al fresco dining

Remembrance of Oysters Past

Then Bill and Carla and I paid a visit to Mary's organic garden and picked up some produce. Not a labor intensive experience for any of us. And later on Dianne, aka Gunga Din, brought me water from her well.

Mary's garden is transitioning into fall—kale etc. We scored some of the last tomatoes.

THe weekend was topped off with a late afternoon Labor Day tailgating at the Slab.