Ok, that’s really keeping up with Mrs. Wing, and even that is only a misty abstraction. There is no foreseeable prospect of keeping up with the Wing Family, whose favorite greeting as I come trudging home after work is “Mary! Have you had dinner?” That’s the alert for a sizzling plate of food, or a basket of harvest from the garden. Here are just a few highlights that they’ve shared with me in the past week.

Another tribute to Fish Mint. They planted some in my garden to beautifully fill in a bare patch after purple potato harvest.

Freshly foraged Cornelian Cherries, or Cornel Mas

Lovingly cultivated red raspberries, and golden raspberries too, grown in pots at the kitchen door. These were the first sweet mellow raspberries I have ever tasted. What a revelation. I could never fathom why people pay good money for fuzzy bird gravel wrapped in acid, but these berries are simply fantastic!

Purple potatoes. Last winter some knobbly wire tips started poking out of the ground in my potato patch. What the? But then Captain Wing explained that their cold-stored purple potatoes had started to sprout, so they planted them in my area. Wellsir, last week these small plants turned yellow and wilted. I was going to grub them out, but they disappeared. Presto — Mrs. Wing had harvested the lot, then handed over the whole grocery bag worth. Let’s review this word problem: They donated the potatoes, they planted the potatoes, they guessed correctly that edible potatoes were afoot and ready (Huh? Here I figured we had to wait until November!), dug them up, cleaned them, wrapped them in a large gift bag, then concluded that “Oh, these potatoes must belong to Mary!” and to my chagrin and surprise handed them over. Tonight I cooked up a batch of them to keep on hand in case smoke season kicks in this week. They’re terrific; tender but substantial, packed with good solid starch.

In other news, Angelina has a visit this week from her daughter Kalia (short for Philokalia, Lover of Spiritual Beauty). Both women have careers intervening in extreme human medical emergencies, and have the reflexes and wits and tough love that comes with the job. All year the neighbor klatch has heard many stories about Kalia’s accomplishments and character, which like Confucius she displayed from birth. Knowing that on early acquaintance my own personality comes across like a bowl of cooled farina, I felt intimidated about meeting Kalia in person. How would her impressions of me advise Angelina’s friendship? But within minutes Kalia and I hit on a topic of mutual girl interest (to wit, how Barry Marshall nailed down the etiology of gastric ulcers by swallowing a beaker of Helicobacter pylori). At that moment it dawned on me that maybe she and I were doing okay.

To celebrate the 4th of July, Angelina and Kalia took Bingo and Super Pup out for a good romp of ball fetching for paw-eye coordination and social enrichment. Then they left the doggoes at home, and went out for dinner and to view the recreational detonation of explosives.

Bingo is a docile but sensitive soul prone to nervous starts and firework panic. There were already amateur bangs going off near the street and fire trucks wailing past on small brush fires here and there. So an hour or so before sunset I got the bonnet bee to go over there and take Bingo for another walk to shake off some nerves before the organized municipal ruckus.

Bingo was never so glad to see me. I never never give the dogs treats or games or fun of any kind, but right then he didn’t care. He was waiting right at that door with no fuss about clipping on the leash, and off we went to salute fire hydrants and trees all around the block.

Dog owners from all over were out in force, catching a promenade before sunset. We all stopped in solidarity to let the dogs sniff each other’s delicates while we exchanged caring questions and stories about how our big and little fellas reacted to deafening racket. After some contemplative time petting the various heads and untangling the leashes, we swapped good wishes and went our ways. Bingo was such a good lil egg, trooping along right next to me all serious and earnest about sniffing his way around his turf. At 16 years old he’s lost his hearing (or as one of our sympathetic pre-K neighbors expressed it with sweeping hand gestures, “He is so old, he is tired now and DONE with listening more!”). But the vibration of isolated booms still made him try to flee, until he noticed that we humans were not afraid at all. He was still eager to finish up with hydrants and trees and get home. There I sat for a bit to keep the dogs company. Bingo nestled right up to my feet. With each boom and bang he would raise his head and look at me, and I would keep stroking his back until he put his head down again.

On Sunday I hopped off the bus after Orthodox Liturgy with bilingual service book in hand, and was happy to run into Seth on the street. He was taking a break for once from managing a produce department and nationwide vegetable supply chain and deliveries and a crew of stockers plus hordes of customers who shop during business hours of 5:00 am to 1:00 am and who are in and out of their right minds. He was working fiercely hard to coordinate the perishables for 4th of July, so I didn’t tarry or take his time.

But first thing next morning I stopped by the grocery to bring him some of Mrs. Wing’s cornelian cherries, and was pleased to have hit upon a fruit that Seth hadn’t tried before. “What are these cherries?” he asked, tasting one. “Are they like Montmorency?” To me, the cornelians are simply delicious in a unique unexpected way. But it’s edifying to see a real expert try one with genuine sensibility and awareness, letting the flavor chime at a whole palette of taste sensations. “Interesting!” he said. “Must research these.”

Then he turned to his crew with an announcement. “Mary reads ancient Greek!” he called out to them. “I caught her with the book on Sunday.”

“But I’m sure not coordinated enough to stock or handle those carts there without causing an accident,” I assured them. “That’s more essential to civilization and quality of life.”