Of Poisons and Peaches

Currants
This Spring I made it a few times to our local Farmer’s Market, which for me is a major accomplishment since I usually do a lot of nothing on Saturday mornings. But I’m so glad I made it, because I met Wilma, a fascinating mountain woman, and bought some currant bushes from her. Now the currants are starting to turn red. Renee checks on them daily, hunting the red jewels for her own pleasure. I’ll be lucky to get any!

When we brought the currant bushes home, my husband told me they looked like the berry bushes that used to grow in his backyard when he was a kid. His mother caught him eating them one time and scolded him fiercely, telling him they were poison. Poison! Poison! Poison! The other day he plucked a crisp red berry from the bush and popped it into his mouth. “Yep, those were the ones that were in my backyard,” he said. “I loved them. They were so tartly delicious. I’m so glad we have some now!”

It’s easy to think that his mom was being a bit harsh, but the truth is, she just didn’t know. Better safe than sorry is not a bad motto, though are there are better ones. Seek and find out, for one, though that’s a little easier now than in the 70s, I’d say.

Consider if my husband, as a child, had been attracted to this plant instead of red berries:

Poison Hemlockpoison hemlock

He would not be with us.   This plant is Poison Hemlock, and  I found it last week growing by my chicken coop.  Though it looks like many other innocuous plants–Queen Anne’s Lace in particular–it is deadly poisonous.   I read that it can kill you even if you are just handling the root, if you have a cut on your hands.  I don’t know if that’s true, but I do know that it’s poisonous enough that I washed my hands after breaking off a leaf to smell.  I thought it might be dill, which is in the same family (Apiaceae) as hemlock,  but I wasn’t looking closely enough.

I’ve educated my kids about hemlock, starting with two years ago when I saw it flowering down the road by the creek. Last year it was blooming on our river land, right by the path, and every time I walked by it with them I’d say, “There it is, the poison hemlock!  Be careful!  That plant can kill you, quick!”  Now they are afraid of yarrow, Queen Anne’s Lace, and any other plant producing clusters of white flowers.  I have pointed out hemlock’s smooth stalk and compared it with the fuzzy stalk of Queen Anne’s Lace, but I think for kids these  things can get all mixed up in their heads.  Learning the difference between what is poison, and what is not, is knowledge that develops over many, many seasons.   Be respectful of each plant, I tell them.  Some are so poisonous they can kill you, some are so rich in medicine they can heal you.  No plant ever poisoned someone that was just looking at it, so learn to use your eyes.  I’m still learning that.  And trying to figure out how I want to destroy this plant before it goes to seed.

peony

Meanwhile, the peonies in my garden are tumbling over themselves like girls just become women, tossing their beauty about recklessly, littering the path with a carpet of pink petals. I feel like peonies are the ultimate flower, the way they burst open with frills and scent and color, and then just can’t stop, falling over with the heavy delight of being a flower.

Valerian

The valerian is flowering, and one plant has a stalk over six feet tall!  Looks kind of like hemlock, oddly enough.  The root of valerian, where it’s medicine dwells, has a powerful stink-foot smell, but the flowers are sweet and clear.  I’ll be gathering the seed this year, and planting more valerian this fall.  Do you have any seeds from your garden you’d like to trade for some valerian seeds?

Columbine

Soon the flowers of May will be gone, and the lilies and bee balm and elecampane will begin flowering.  I have really enjoyed my native columbine, which was a volunteer in the pot of another plant I purchased last year.  It has bloomed profusely, and its blooms are smaller than the more domesticated columbine.  I’ll be passing some seeds from this plant along to a friend of mine, who gave me some of the volunteer columbine plants from her garden.   They were so cute–little deep purple doubles!  I’m wondering if the native will cross with these unusual samples from her garden to make even more interesting varieties of columbine.

peach tree

And last, but certainly not least, is a branch from one of my peach trees.  It’s going to be a peachy summer, I’d say!

Pitch for a Shift

Yesterday afternoon Jay and I sat at the table stripping mint leaves from their stalks, arranging them in assorted patterns on the dehydrator trays.   We were both a bit worn with the day, and so I had made some mate latte tea.  I had mine with honey, and that, along with the crisp scent of mint, seemed to be lifting the tired fog that engulfed me.

We talked a bit about his work, and then I made my pitch.

“Let’s try something new,” I suggested.  “Let’s make our midday meal our main meal of the day.  Before then, we can all work together, in the garden, on your carcycle, whatever.  After the meal, you can go to your shop, I can go to my studio, and the kids can have free time.”

I had this idea that morning, as my children fought downstairs with a vengeance.   I was trying to get a small task done, and had left them to their own devices.  Of course this was a recipe for disaster, but only a minor disaster, the type to which I am somewhat immune.  I need some sort of shift, I thought, as Renee screamed at McKinley at the top of her lungs downstairs.  There has to be a way for us to move more into the life we desire with less stress and more beauty.  There just has to be a way!

As it has been, our life very loosely resembles a traditional set-up, whereby Jay goes to work in the morning, albeit just next door, and usually around 10 am, and I stay at home with the kids.  That is about where the resemblance ends, since “staying home with the kids” might mean swimming in the river, or it might mean discussing the current crisis in Gaza, as we did yesterday.  Still, being the only one with the kids for most of the day means that when I can break away to the studio, I usually don’t have the energy.  Making dinner at the end of the day usually takes what last bit of energy I might have had.

So in our constant quest–sometimes joyful, sometimes not–to do everything, we are attempting a shift change.  We’ll try it for a week and see how it works.  Today was the first day, and oh, today!

We started the day with coffee, as usual, sitting at the table in our outdoor kitchen.  I woke the children by reading some of “The Island of the Blue Dolphins” to them.  Reading with them in the morning, rather than at night, has proven to be the trick to getting my children from sleep to wakefulness without yelling.  Then we read together from “Opening Doors Within,” which is a daily meditation book by Eileen Caddy, one of the co-founders of Findhorn.  Breakfast was followed by jumping on the trampoline, and then into the garden we went, weeding and planting 8 butternut squash plants.  The clouds came and cooled us from the hot Sun, and then the rain began to fall upon us, big thick drops, sporadic and delicious at first, and then a torrent.  We rushed to the house, wet and laughing.

For our midday meal, Jay and Renee made a stack of handmade tortillas (thirty-two to be precise), while McKinley made hummus, and I made a frittata.

Renee & Tortillas

I sent McKinley to the garden to take pictures of the row of butternut squash and the limbs of our peach trees, which are laden with peaches.  We have so many peaches that I’ll be making peach preserves, peach chutney, and peach pie come August.  Anyway, here’s the pictures he took:

baby butternutBaby ButternutRose

Rose

Baby PeachBaby Peach

My Marvel of Venice beans are coming up strong, and the arugula I planted with the kids a few days ago has made a fine green appearance.  We’ve been getting good rain this week, so the other beans I planted, and the sunflowers, should be showing pretty soon.  The garden grows, the river warms, and summer really is upon us. With my husband joining me in the garden, I feel like anything is possible!

Garden Notes, without weedy pictures

Today the Moon was in Libra, after a stint through Leo & Virgo, which are barren signs.  While it would be ideal to be weeding during such barren times, such has not been the case.  So today I tried to make up for lost time, weeding (because there is SO much to be done) and also planting Marvel of Venice Pole Beans and some luscious Johnny Jump-Ups I purchased at one of my local greenhouses.

Libra is “a moist, fruitful airy sign. Good for grains & root crops. Especially good for flowers,” according to The Almanack.com, whose monthly almanac I save to my desktop and check frequently.  I intended to plant more potatoes today, since the Moon is in such a good sign for them, but alas, I spent a good portion of my day helping with the new floor in my outdoor kitchen.  More on that tomorrow.

Even with all the weeds the garden is gorgeous.  I’ll get those potatoes in the ground.  Plus lots of other stuff.  My white peonies are blooming, and my pink peonies are about to.  I really love my peonies!

This morning I got up at six–a very strange occurrence indeed–and picked this bouquet from my garden:

IMG_4247

Flowers from my Tailpipe

First, I am totally sickened by what is happening in the Gulf of Mexico right now.   I can’t even write about it.  It is very, very, very bad.

But it has certainly spurred me to action, along with my super husband.   You know, we drive.  We all drive.  We drive everywhere.  I bring my own bags, I carry my own water, I buy local first.  But I drive.  All that other stuff is just a drop in the bucket, except maybe the buying local part, considering that otherwise food is driven across the country.  I haven’t done that math on that one, though I’m sure someone has.  But I know what’s going in my gas tank, and even though it is sometimes regionally produced biodiesel, 95% of the time it isn’t.  And even when it is, it’s not like flowers are coming out of my tailpipe.

I see the connection between my driving and so much destruction–wars, climate change, environmental degradation, and now, full-blown catastrophe.   And I am tired of living this way.  My parents raised me to be honest, and this does not seem honest.  That so much should be sacrificed so that I can go where I want to, exactly when I want to, at a high rate of speed & in supreme comfort just doesn’t seem just.

So, with my husband’s super powers, we are going to sacrifice the high rate of speed and supreme comfort for something else.  And we are going to do it with this:

(photo from americanspeedster.com)

You can find out more about this carcycle from this website:  americanspeedster.com    This model is the Sidekick, and it should be noted that it can be retrofitted with an electric motor.

A friend once told me that for the cost of the bail-out every mid-sized city and up could have had high-speed rail.  Imagine.  And keep imaging!  For months I’ve been driving and imaging how wonderful it will feel to be able to travel joyfully, with flowers coming out of my tailpipe, instead of thoughts of war and unjustified privilege.  This carcycle is our first step into that dream.  Only I think we’ll put a bubble machine on the back of it, instead of flowers.  Just for fun.

Obviously, there’s more to come on this one!

Domestic Wednesday

We had a big spring-cleaning weekend, culminating in an Easter dinner with family and friends. I just love when my house is clean. Today there hasn’t been a lot going on, and so I did a good bit of Etsy shopping and another good bit of house-tending and kitchen craft.

We’ve started eating smoothies every morning. I was wanting to find an easy way to eat flaxseeds, and after a little experimentation I found that just grinding them up in the trusty coffee grinder and throwing them in the blender with some yogurt, frozen raspberries, and agave syrup for sweetening was just about perfect. I might throw in a banana, or some blueberries, but that’s the gist of it. And it makes a great breakfast! The flaxseeds are just superb for your health, packed with Omega-3’s and lignans (lots and lots of lignans)  that promote estrogen balance.  That estrogen balance is what I was seeking, for uterine fibroids, and so far the effect has been marvelous, darling, just marvelous.

All that smoothie making makes for a lot of yogurt!  So I started buying the milk at the store and making yogurt at home.  It is so incredibly easy, and so much cheaper!  And in the end you have these lovely jars of yogurt just waiting for you.

Jars of Yogurt and FlaxseedJars of Yogurt and Flaxseed

Here’s the basic recipe for making yogurt:

  1. Fill a large pot with hot water and put in  your jars, a big spoon, and a whisk.  Bring that to a boil, so your yogurt jars and preparation utensils are nice and sanitary.  You can use any jar for making the yogurt, but half-pint, pint and quart jars make it easy to know how much milk to use.  The milk will convert tit for tat to yogurt–you won’t have any by-product.
  2. Measure out your milk, and put it in a pot over a high setting.  Stir it now and then.  You’re going to want to bring your milk just to a boil, when it starts to rise up and foam, and then take it off the heat straight away.  This is the hardest part of making yogurt–waiting for your milk to boil.  The purpose of boiling the milk, by the way, is to kill off any other bacteria so that only your friendly probiotic bacteria will grow.
  3. Let the milk cool in the pot until it’s lukewarm, or about body temperature.  If it feels hot to you, it’s still too hot.  When it’s warm, take about two tablespoons of yogurt for every four cups of milk, and whisk this starter yogurt into the milk with your happy, sanitary whisk.  I do not measure my starter yogurt–I just put in a dollop and stir–and I think the stirring may be more important than how much yogurt you actually use, because you want the bacteria to be well-spread throughout the milk.
  4. Pour the milk mixture into your sterilized jars, which should be warm enough to handle by now.  If not, just set them out and let them cool until you can handle them easily.  I used to ladle the milk into the jars, but now I just pour it straight from the pot into wide-mouth jars.  Much easier.  Put on the lids.
  5. Now you need to put your jars someplace warmish.  In the winter I put them in the warming closet of my woodstove, and in the Summer I put them on top of my hot water tank, because in Summer the utility room gets really warm from our solar water heating system, which is housed there (and on our roof).  If you can’t think of a warm, cozy place for your yogurt, just fill up a hot water bottle with hot water and snuggle it up to them, then put them in a “cooler”  or some other small, insulated spot.  I always wrap mine up in a few layers of towels.
  6. Leave the jars for six to eight hours (though I’ve done less, and more), refreshing the hot water bottle a few times if you’re using that method to keep them warm.  Sample it at six hours, checking for firmness.  It doesn’t have to get firm, but the longer you leave it the firmer it will get.
  7. Admire you handiwork!

I’ve heard that this will work with any kind of milk:  rice, almond, soy, and I think it would be a fun experiment to see how these would turn out.  But for now, I need to get downstairs to my kitchen corner and make some pizza!

pizza dough on the risePizza dough on the rise

Speaking of kitchen, here’s the view of my domestic corner of creativity. I’m excited that we will soon be getting tile in the kitchen, and then new cabinets! But even now it’s beautiful, thanks to all that spring-cleaning, and maybe, if I keep Wednesdays a day for domestic craft, just maybe it will stay that way.  It’s a possibility!

Domestic Corner of Creativity

under the down blanket

On a morning like this–and there have been many this winter–I wonder exactly why I should get out of bed.  I am fortunate that I can stay in bed!  My appreciation goes out to all you folks that take care of things when the weather is obscene.

Despite all the snow and ice, this winter has not been particularly disturbing.  This is because usually we have frequent, blisteringly fierce winds.  Winds that run head-first into the north side of the house.  I’ll be barely asleep and hear them coming like lions.  When they hit the house shudders.  On nights like that, I don’t sleep well.  I worry about the winds ripping off the solar panels, or knocking down trees.  I worry, and I worry well.  So yes, the El Nino affect has been relentless, but the winds have not.  I’ve slept, and I’ve slept well.  Something for which to be thankful.

We heat with wood, and we ran out–it’s just been so cold.  Even our old-time neighbor wise in the ways of mountain living has run out of wood.  So for the past few days J has been taking down, sawing up, and sledding to the house a few standing dead trees from the forest.  We also have been experimenting with lower house temperatures at night.  J is not fond of this experiment, but I read an interesting blog article about the Japanese method of keeping warm (basically they don’t heat the whole house), and thought we could stretch ourselves a little bit more.  Maybe this will help the wood last until May, which is usually when I light my last fire.
IMG_2811
Spring seems forever away, though the transition began at Imbolc, which according to this archeoastronomy site was February 3rd this year.  The other day I got eggs from the hens for the first time in months.  It was so nice to have pink, turquoise, and brown eggs again.  Simple pleasures are the best.  If the snow and ice will hold off a bit, then in two weeks or so I bet I can find the first signs of Spring–maybe a little chickweed in the garden, or crocus blades cutting through the dark earth.  I always feel like once I get past Imbolc I can shrug off most of winter’s despair and start seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.  Even if I’m still dependent on my down blanket.

a day of advancements

I’ve been trying to find ways to get my kids to write.
I remember as an elementary-aged girl, I would write and write and write.  In second grade I got to write my first book report, in which I mostly rewrote the whole book.  I remember this clearly.  The book was, “A Pony for the Winter,” [...]