Last night was cool enough to warrant two quilts, a delicious weight over my body in the morning. This afternoon was hot enough to warrant a dip in the river, though by the time we got there it was already late afternoon, and shadows stretched long over the bright water. The water was vigorously cold, [...]
A September breeze waltzed through this August afternoon. I recognized it immediately. I was working in my outdoor kitchen, slicing peach after peach, thumbing out the pits with a satisfying slurp, dipping the flesh in a strawberry vinegar solution. The breeze had a certain swish, a lift that August breezes don’t have unless a storm is coming. But there was no storm coming, and this breeze was playing with the flame on my stove, threatening to blow it out, promising to bring more of the same in just a few weeks.
And so it is that summer really has come to an end, and we are in those in between days, when the leaves begin to thin and last day of swimming is nigh.
After I canned another batch of peaches I took care of a few assorted tasks, all the while hearing the call of the garden. So down I went to dig up potatoes. As I did I sang “Erin’s Lovely Home”–an Irish ballad that tells one man’s woes of crossing the Atlantic during a time of famine: “there were thousands more left upon the shore/ all anxious for to roam and/ leave the land where they were born/called Erin’s lovely home.“ The humble potato, so weighty in the hand, such a blessing to poor farmers, such a loss if the crop were to fail.
Now the Moon rises above the ridge, full and round and gleaming yellow against the thickening blue sky. Katydids chant in the shadows, and the cool of evening deepens. Dinner is late, but we will be having our first meal from the finished cob oven tonight. There is no famine here, and this meal will be worth the wait.
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It is evening. Dinner has been eaten, and the children are cleaning up, or so we hope, in the kitchen. The katydids fill the forest with their pulsing chatter. I’m listening to them, and to Eva Cassidy singing “Kathy’s Song.” I can’t decide which is more beautiful. I’ll take both.
Yesterday I picked peaches. I [...]
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July is a strange month. The heat rises quickly. Long, bright days filled with the whir of bugs bend time. The garden calls in the lush heat, and I answer, covered in soil and sweat in a matter of minutes. The laundry hung to dry gets washed again in a sudden [...]
Back in early June I sold my goats. It was a decision I had toyed with for awhile, especially whenever I walked out my door and they assailed me with a collective whining bleat. Truly, I have enough whining in my life. When I had a spontaneous vision of removing their vocal chords I knew it was time. I don’t even like goat milk! What was I thinking?
Well, I was dreaming, really, and in a creative way, about my little farm. But what I have always wanted is a milk cow (and some horses, and a pond, and a barn). I went with goats, and Nigerian Dwarf Goats in particular, because they are smaller and more suited to the land I have available. I don’t have acres of pasture, you see, but I do have plenty of browse, which goats prefer, in certain areas of my land. So while the goats were a good fit for my land, they were not a good fit with me. So, no goat milk soap in my future, or goat cheese, and that’s is alright by me.
I still have a dream about a little farm–maybe not the kind of farm that sells a lot of what is grown as its income, but the kind of farm where the family is fed. I describe it as joyful sustainability. I added the joyful recently to my goal, because otherwise I get all stressed out about it, pressuring myself to work hard at this goal, which then completely ruins it.
I gauge my success toward reaching joyful sustainability carefully, and realize that I can support sustainability in other ways as well, such as shopping at the farmer’s market. I am not a master gardener, by any stretch of the imagination. Every year I make improvements, and I’m hoping the addition of a greenhouse will be a big improvement. That is on our to-do list. Somewhere in my future there is a barn, and rabbits and American Guinea Hogs for meat. And I would love to have a milk cow. It would just need to be a little milk cow, which does exist, by the way. Way back when joyful sustainability was part and parcel of life for most folks, the livestock was smaller. There is a wonderful reclamation of these breeds, from miniature Jerseys to Olde English Babydoll Sheep. I would love to participate in the revival of these breeds. But for now I have two gardens, eleven chickens, one chick, two Angora bunnies, and no goats.
On Sunday I went to the Useful Plants Nursery Summer Plant Sale and bought a marvelous assortment of trees and shrubs. While I was gone, Jay pulled up the old floor downstairs, which was a hodge-podge of hardwood flooring, parquet, linoleum, and tile. Now it is down to a bare slab. Later in the day when the Sun’s heat began to fade I went into the garden and picked five quarts of blueberries. The bushes were falling over themselves with blueberries. I ate a bunch, froze a bunch, and there’s still a bounty of blueberries to harvest. So begins the last week before our annual beach vacation.
There is much to do. I can’t think about the floor, and I won’t even try to put my new trees and shrubs in the ground until I get back, but I certainly can wax euphoric about my nursery purchases. I think I’m most excited about the Hybrid American Chestnut. The American Chestnut was the crown jewel of the Southern Appalachian forests, but a foreign blight wiped them out by the 1930’s. Well, not entirely. There are still chestnut stumps that produce shoots, but the shoots are killed off by the blight before they ever mature. The two chestnuts I purchased are American chestnuts crossed back with Japanese and Chinese Chestnuts to produce something close to the original tree.
I also purchased some American hazelnuts. If I had done more research before my purchase I might have bought the European hazelnut, which produces a larger nut more suitable for the home orchard, but now I’m excited that I will be able to produce nuts for our family, and for the wildlife. American hazelnuts are vigorous plants with a tendency to colonize an area, so I’ll have extra plants within a few years that I can plant back in the forest for the deer, bear, grouse, and squirrels on my mountain. By the way, it’s your mountain, too, as nearly all of it is National Forest Land.
There’s nine new blueberry bushes, which means I have now about twenty-five blueberry bushes, though not all are producing berries yet. To go along with the blueberries, I now have two Aronia bushes. These are a native berry extremely rich in athocyanins and antioxidants. Don’t even begin to think that’s enough berries for me! I purchased two female sea berry plants, which have slender silver leaves. When they are loaded down with their bright orange berries, they will be a marvelous sight.
And then there is my Vitex tree. I thought it was Vitex agnus-castus, of which I already have two small plants, but it’s actually something I’ve never heard of before: VItex negundo. Regardless, this small tree absolutely called to me. She has a supple, curvaceous trunk rising to nearly six feet with lacy leaves and delicate lavender flowers. She really does have a lovely shape. This is the information they had about her: A veritable medicine cabinet of a plant. The leaves are anti-inflammatory, anti-bacterial, and analgesic and are applied externally for rheumatic conditions, bruises, injuries, sprains, sores, and skin infections. The seeds and leaves contain valuable medicinal compounds are used internally for chronic bronchitis, all emaciating conditions, to improve memory and eyesight, rejuvenate hair, alleviate loss of appetite, and to manage skin diseases and excessive bleeding during menstruation. The young stems are used for basketmaking. The leaves are insecticidal and used to repel insects in grain stores. The fresh leaves are burned with grass to repel mosquitoes.
While I dream about blueberry pie with a hazelnut crust , or chestnut stuffing for Thanksgiving in two or three years, right now I have Narrowleaf Echinacea, Golden Sage, Passionflower, Valerian, and Bloodflower that need to go in the garden, as in yesterday. Fortunately the hot and dry weather has broken with a thunderific rainstorm. I’ll pull my bolting lettuces and feed them to my rabbits tomorrow, making way for a bed of herbal delights. But for now, my soft bed of pillows calls, and I will answer, for I have much to do tomorrow—putting straw around the potatoes (and purchasing said straw), taking artwork to the frame shop, setting up a trellis for my poor beans, and some other things I’m quite certain I’ve forgotten about, but will remember at some juncture.
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June has swept me up in her hot parade and I have so enjoyed the celebration I can hardly believe we are near its end. My second eldest has graduated from high school, and the party that goes with that has long since passed. The garden is marching along happily, though the week and a half I neglected it to prepare for the aforementioned graduation party has certainly left me with lots of work to do now. Solstice has pulled all the Summer flowers into blooming, and they are so different from the flowers of Spring. Bold, big, and warm-colored are the daylilies, the butterfly weed, the bee balm, and the elecampane. Forgive me for not having photographs. I’ve been too busy to take pictures.
Yesterday I worked in the hot Sun weeding my long row of onions. By the time I was moving along to mulching them a big cloud strode along and offered me some shade, for which I was most appreciative. Then I gave the onions a nice long drink. Last year’s onions didn’t really bulk up, so I need to stay on top of the watering this year. I am looking forward to thick, juicy onions to stash away in my pantry. I’ve also planted a row of green onions, which should overwinter nicely, unless we eat them all up this Autumn.
I’m still playing catch-up on my garden list. I need to fill in the trenches of my potatoes, and also giving them a good watering. I know July is just around the corner, but I’m going to put some zucchini seeds in the ground and have some by late Summer to devour and to freeze and to pickle. I’m also going to plant a whole row of basil to put pesto away for the Winter. There is simply nothing so uniquely delicious in all the world as basil (though I am also quite fond of cilantro), and I’ve got a good set of plants already. Just not enough to put a bunch away for the Winter.
And yes, that is what I’m thinking about. Putting lots of food up for the cold. If nothing else, the garden has taught me about two things: consistency and timing. For a garden to be successful, you must give it consistent attention. Daily attention. I have two gardens–a row garden and a garden of vegetable beds and perennial herbs and flowers. That’s a lot of attention for one scatter-brained woman. It’s exactly what I need to teach me how to be grounded and focused. As for the timing, well, you really do have to think ahead, plan, and basically be on top of things. I rather infamous for having none of those skills. So you see, the garden is just the teacher I need. Since I have two gardens, I guess I needed two teachers. Some of us need more help than others.
And of course, the garden has taught me so much more. This Spring I did not get any spinach in the garden, or other such greens, but The Lady of the Garden knew my need and filled the garden with lamb’s quarters. Many a meal have we had of this wild and delicious green, and yesterday I harvested armloads. Tonight I will lightly sautee’ them and then stash them away in little freezer bags. Come the cold I will be making stews of potatoes and lamb’s quarters and sausage, and marveling again at the wild abundance of Nature, which is perhaps the greatest lesson of all.
