Sunday, February 26, 2017
Giant flakes falling, floating, caressing...
I love surprises such as this (unless this were July, then, not so much loving the snow; but it's still February).
The snow on the ground was gone by noon. The afternoon was lovely -- partly sunny and in the 50s.
I'll be back in the garden tomorrow... What will I find?
P.S. The plastic-covered low tunnel in this pic has kale growing inside. I put blankets over the kale weeks ago, when the temperature was set to drop below zero -- which it did. Last week I removed the blankets and found some of the kale still alive. It was a ghostly pale yellow due to lack of sun, but alive. I left the ends slightly open to vent out heat, since we were getting sunshine and highs in the 70s.
The other night when the forecast predicted a low of 28 I didn't bother to close the ends because kale can take 28 degrees without breaking a sweat. Not so sure how the 15 degrees we actually experience affected it, but it was undercover and the ground is warmish. I haven't looked yet because I've had other priorities, but I'm hoping for early kale. Guess I should also check the spinach, which has no cover, but is surround by a cushy hay mulch. Early spinach, yay.
Saturday, February 25, 2017
The white stuff looks like a mix of sleet, snow and heavy frost. Our temperature dropped to 15 degrees F. by early morning, much lower than the upper 20s the National Weather Service had forecast. These surprise lily leaves don't look fazed, though.
Yesterday was much chillier than the previous days this week. You might think I'd be disappointed that the weather turned colder, but the brisk air actually felt good... quite invigorating. I didn't work outside at all, but was in and out for various things. We saw a bit of sleet and rain and snow yesterday, as well, just enough to say that precipitation fell, but not enough to do much good. It did create this pretty ground covering, though, which disappeared almost as soon as the sun peaked over the trees.
This coming week appears to be cooler, yet still warm for February -- oh, wait, it's almost March. Maybe the 50s is a bit March-like.
For the past two or three weeks I've been itching to put seeds in the ground outside. With March coming it, it's now an appropriate time to plant things that like chilly weather, such as peas and spinach, radishes and kale. This coming week I'll start my peppers and eggplant, and the following week I'll seriously considering starting tomatoes. I always feel the time slipping away more rapidly than it actually is passing, because I'm looking forward in order to plan my plantings. Before I know it, we'll be sweltering in the middle of summer and I'll go, "hey, what happened to spring?!"
I guess I'd better pull myself back to Now, before it's too late, and enjoy the brisk wind and spits of snow. There will be time later to enjoy the labor and then the fruits of it, when later is Now.
Thursday, February 23, 2017
I don't remember when we let it go out, but we have not had a fire in our stove all week. I've enjoyed not being awakened by the alarm so I can feed the fire at least twice through the night. I've enjoyed not dealing with the mess created by heating with wood. That won't last, though. Tonight will be the last night for a while that I can sleep without getting up to tend the fire. It will be chilly in here in the morning, but it's not supposed to fall below 40 tonight. So I'd rather wait until morning to light the fire and sleep through one more night.
Not only has the weather been unusually warm, it has been dry. Several times chances of rain have past by with little more than a spit. We missed it again this morning. We have another chance this weekend, but I'm not hopeful. I watered the blueberries and strawberries on Tuesday and am wondering whether this is a trend for the year, or whether things will change.
I know what this beautiful February weather signifies -- climate change. Anyone who denies it has not looked out the window in decades. Recently I read a headline -- just the headline -- for an article about that change, and it is more worrisome than anything else I've read. But I refuse to let that worry rule me. I am here now. I can enjoy life now. Proper actions can change the predictions.
Regardless, I will focus on now, and enjoying the beautiful weather, and working outdoors in a t-shirt, with my feet bare.... in February. I will give my love to the earth and all her children and be here now. I will be happy that a friend of mine is sowing wildflower seeds. I will continue to teach people how to put seeds in the soil and tend them. I am not hiding, I will quietly do what I can to help prevent the most dire predictions.
I have faith that each spring the flowers will bloom and the seeds will sprout... until they don't. And I will be here until I'm not. Just like the bright little winter aconite blossoms at the beginning of this post, basking in the sun, enjoying their brief existence here.
Saturday, February 18, 2017
Yeah, I know, it's the middle of February.
The weather, though, is very springlike... mid- to late-springlike.
I discovered these little crocus popping up in front of the house a few days ago. Since then they've opened to full and I've found more things starting to pop through the ground, like a tiny cluster of winter aconite. Is that all the winter aconite I'll have this year? Last year several clusters were scattered about. I hope a few more appear.
With such warm weather over this past week and more in the forecast, I am seriously considering putting some seeds in the ground. I might start with spinach, since it much prefers sprouting in cooler soil. Yesterday I moved some of the hay mulch and found lovely little spinach plants where I'd planted them last fall -- not many, because I had trouble getting much germination, but we'll have a bit of early spinach. Carrots, beets and a few others also might get planted, whatever stands a chance of surviving if we get some late cold weather in April. I hesitate planting, though, because it has also been very dry -- not a good companion for being unusually warm.
Even though the weather is springlike, I am still in the midst of winter chores. Last week I pruned the elderberries -- severely pruned them. Yet I wonder if that was even severe enough. At least they won't get quite so overgrown this year. Elderberries can get a little unruly. They send up multiple suckers throughout the growing season. If I can keep up with cutting back the suckers I don't want through mid- to late-spring, I can keep some moderate control. The suckers slow down during the summer. That can be a tricky prospect since spring is the time I've got so much other stuff to do, but I do my best.
I love my elderberries, which are the native species and grow as large shrubs. The berries make a wondrous jam and provide many nutrients, as well as being touted as a flu preventative. Most of the research in this area has been done on products made with the European elder berry (Sambucus nigra), but the American elderberry (Sambucus canadensis) is considered to possess similar properties. The flavor of the berry doesn't lend well to fresh eating, especially since the seed contains a toxin that can cause digestive issues, so they shouldn't be eaten fresh in more than small handful doses. However, the toxin is destroyed by heat, so cooked, ripe berries are perfectly safe and lend themselves well to cooked dishes, especially when blended with other, sweeter fruits.
My elderberry jam is seasoned with cinnamon, clove and cardamom, and acidified with lemon juice, which complements the elderberry's flavor nicely. I sweeten with honey, in much lower quantities than typical jam and jelly recipes require. When I use those larger amounts of sweetener I taste nothing but sugar. The point of jams and jellies is to taste the fruit. So I use a pectin that gels with low sugar quantities or no sugar at all. One combination that I've found to be quite nice is to mix gooseberries with the elderberries. Love it.
The European elder has a great history and is the subject of much legend and folklore, which I will discuss in a future post. The magical and medicinal associations with the elderberry were what first got me interested in growing it. But it's also a gorgeous shrub, especially when it blooms mid-summer. My enthusiasm for it does not diminish at all when I'm constantly pruning out suckers in an attempt to keep it from taking over everything. I am quite drawn to plants that take care of themselves so well and force me to stay present enough to notice when I must whack out something. I can't really expect everyone to understand my love for this plant, so I won't try to explain it. However, I will offer more information at a later date. In the meantime, those of you who are in my region and freaking out over the unusually warm weather -- Relax, Enjoy. Freaking out won't change it. Just enjoy the pretty flowers.
Sunday, February 12, 2017
We've had a busy week full of physical, outdoor labor. The week ended with us unloading bales of straw and hay on Saturday evening.
I knelt on top of the stack of bales in the back of the F-350 truck, getting a rare overview of the garden. The raised beds ran straight and tidy, most of them freshly mulched, and ready for spring planting. In one glance I saw the sharply pruned stand of elderberries and the freshly trimmed and weeded figs. A little ramshackle fence, still under construction, creates a pretend barrier along the back edge of the garden, where I've started to clean up last year's weediness.The sun shone golden through a veil of thin clouds, behind the leaf-bare woods near our house. Towels laundered in the morning still waved on the clothesline. Even the compost area looked attractive from this angle.
The day had been unusually warm for February, above 70 degrees Fahrenheit. Almost hot in the middle of the month when 45 degrees usually feels warm. A light breeze brought in cooler air as gray light settled over it all.
An unmistakeable feeling settled into me. Peace. This is why I live here, why I live this life... for these rare moments of peace as the sun yawns and spreads golden light that fades to gray. The peacefulness that follows a day of physical labor spent with the man I love.
I wish I could have taken a photo of that moment to share, but that would have shown nothing of what I felt. A picture can be worth a thousand words, but in moments like these a picture is worthless. All you would be able to see are the things, the surroundings. Invisible are the silence, the sense of home built by a decade of working and loving the land, the barely chill touch of the breeze after a hot day, the memories of cabbages and sweet potatoes and rabbits all raised on this place, the frustrations and triumphs... all of these things and more congealed into a moment of tranquility nestled within a very unpeaceful world.
I would love to bring that peace and tranquility to all of you, but we must find our own peace. Living the country life is not required for one to find this tranquility. Such peacefulness does not come from somewhere outside of us, but from within.
If you find yourself in a state of turmoil because of events occurring around you, whether personal or public, look deep into the twilight on some warm winter evening, or deep into an icy landscape, or deep into anything that surrounds you, even a cityscape, until you find the reflection of your own, true self. Then know peace. Be peace.
Now back to my regularly scheduled frantic pace...
I couldn't bring you a photo of inner peace, so instead I headed this post with something that excites me... baby cabbages newly emerged from their seed enclosures. The earth is stirring, ready to awaken, blades of crocus sprout where soon I will find yellow and purple blossoms. Winter is not gone, but Spring is tugging on its pants, getting ready.
I also hope to later bring you more info about growing those elderberry shrubs I mentioned earlier. I can't promise to tell you anything about growing figs. Even after years of watching the fig trees grow, I still don't know much about cultivating them. I haven't ever gotten a ripe and tasty fig from them. But elderberries, I can tell you things about elderberries.