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Ammaretti are sweet, airy ammaretto cookies that just beg for a sip of robust coffee.

On Saturday, I went to the grocery store for milk and returned with bunches of collards and kale, a hefty crown of chinese cabbage, and green beans. The emerald-bright hues of the produce aisle ensnared me; I could do little but let them come home with me.

Rather than tackling a ho-hum string of weekend chores, I embarked on a whirlwind of vegetable-cooking. (Admittedly, this sudden lust for greenery might be related to several days of rice, crackers, and tea on my menu.) (Admittedly, one person's whirlwind may well be a piddling output for the kitchen savvy.)

I first tackled a recipe that instructed me to roast green beans. The transformation, unlike that savory sweet manna produced by roasting cauliflower, should serve as warning to those who meddle with nature's deliverables.

The bright green of fresh green beans [5257]

Green beans after roasting are a shadow of their former selves: unappealingly spotted and gaunt [5279]

Like some culinary dervish, I whirled through the remainder of the recipe—undeterred by mournful greenery at its centerpiece. Thus arrive rosemary, oregano, sun-dried tomatoes, olives, and a dash of fresh lemon juice to accompany the wilted heap.

Chopped fresh rosemary to balance the salty olives [5253]

A tangy mixture of sun-dried tomatoes, olives, oregano, and rosemary [5261]

The result is tasty but not endearing. Somehow, the crisp snap of a fresh bean loses its charm when subjected to a roasting.

The end result, roasted green beans with sun-dried tomato, feta, and rosemary [5281]

But other greenery awaited my attention. So I next pounced on a mess of collards, cale, and chinese cabbage: some for the humans and a little portion for our pet, the skink. Skeins of greenery flew far and wide as I chopped the lot. That result, spicy braised collards dotted with bits of salami, was far more tasty.

After one wee taste, we elevated greens to entree status and consumed the whole lot. And so ended the whirlwind of vegetable-cooking that arrived so unexpectedly one hot summer Saturday.

Even the searing heat of summer does not compel a skink to enjoy his bath. He seeks out cool dark spots when let out of his cage, but the relative cool of a bath is among his least favorite things.

Initially, he scrabbles pitifully at the slippery walls of the bathtub or sink. The water ripples and churns with his frustrated efforts: he dutifully swims to each corner in the search for an escape.

Eventually he abandons these escape attempts with a telling snort. For a minute or two, he navigates the shallow water quite expertly. His tail acts like a speckled rudder while his plump little legs are retracted like landing gear. He makes a serpentine path through the water.

This peace at bathtime is short-lived, however. He soon recalls the indignity of the bath and re-initiates his frantic scrabbling. Ocassionally: success. He ascends the slippery walls just enough to peek over the top.

The gloom amongst photo hobbyists who are plagued by rain is a terrible thing. Cameras lie on various tables in state of abandon, while stowed tripods lurk in the corner.

The unexpected reprieve from the rain, a gorgeous sunset, brought zing back to the shutterbugs. My results didn't really capture the fleeting light as it crossed the iconic lines of the convention center. So some experiments with the pixels are in order...

Take 1: Amp up the contrast and blacks, while desaturating the secondary colors.

Take 2: Hypersaturate to showcase the rosy pink of the day's last light.