tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75040942595862657082024-03-15T07:40:39.621-05:00The Barefoot GardenerMusings, impressions, poetry, pictures and everything else about my experiences in gardening, especially as I learn about taking it to a new level.Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.comBlogger411125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-34717295665569147412024-03-09T11:22:00.001-06:002024-03-09T11:22:23.000-06:00Frost on the Nettles<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIUcGxiSIZ5kYe42VCLnpW5_JAAfQOwTcAYzMyKgxACd2-KUfrBXaXwsOlFmoB6wNr6y056-wahq9GBiPEvf7dZlo5umYT6Fs1mGqihlt5aPk1E-lHP7GdCBCTCylVvmQ5kvHfF7qlcwqqYTZaMOp3l2nuqomnJ9NrojSMtLV0bwWOonuPU0FK-tNpeU/s500/nettles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIUcGxiSIZ5kYe42VCLnpW5_JAAfQOwTcAYzMyKgxACd2-KUfrBXaXwsOlFmoB6wNr6y056-wahq9GBiPEvf7dZlo5umYT6Fs1mGqihlt5aPk1E-lHP7GdCBCTCylVvmQ5kvHfF7qlcwqqYTZaMOp3l2nuqomnJ9NrojSMtLV0bwWOonuPU0FK-tNpeU/w640-h480/nettles.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The other day I went out to the garden first thing in the morning to offer thanks to the nettle patch where I had harvested a small basket of the tender young nettle tops. I steamed them for dinner that evening and relished in the potent nutrition and medicine they offer. Although the thermometer on my porch had not yet fallen to freezing, the leaves were coated with frost.</p><p>All week I've been foraging other spring greens for my daily salads, reducing the amount of lettuce and other purchased greens needed. I love this time of year, when the spring pulls green from the earth and I can connect with the garden and land around it by searching out food.</p><p>My ancestors, no doubt, foraged a good deal, looking forward to fresh greens after a winter of preserved and stored foods -- salt-preserved meats, fermented vegetables, and possible root vegetables that had not gone bad. Foraging not only connects me to the garden, then, but also to my ancestors </p><p>At present I'm foraging henbit (there is lots and lots of it out there), wild garlic, dandelion greens, a bit of wild lettuce, tiny violet leaves, and some of the herbs, such as catnip, spearmint, fennel, young horseradish leaves, and monarda. The chickweed, my favorite weed, is not yet robust enough to make up much of my salad. I look forward to that day, though. The flavors of these plants range from strong to mild. Henbit has a slightly minty flavor, more earthy than peppermint and other "true" mints to which it is related. It's pleasant enough, but I've never found it tasty enough to pick much of it. However, it is growing on me.</p><p>As the spring moves into summer, the composition of my forage will change. Violet flowers and a few other blooms will add spark to the salad. Oxalis and lambs quarters will come in abundance, perhaps I'll even search out garlic mustard. I will continue to harvest nettles to steam for dinner, as well as freeze for later.</p><p>When the garden greens start growing, I may slow down my foraging -- but maybe not. Foraged greens tend to be more nutritious than those I plant in the garden or buy in the store. They tend to be a bit more bitter (good for the digestion) and stronger-flavored than the cultivated varieties, indicating their potency as food.</p><p>I feel stronger and healthier with my salad bowl full of foraged foods. I feel stronger in my connection to the earth; stronger in my connection to ancestors.</p><p>Lots of "weeds" are edible. If you decide to try foraging for yourself, make sure you have a positive identification, and don't harvest from some place where herbicides, insecticides, or chemical fertilizers have been applied. Foraging along busy roads also is not a good idea because of the noxious fumes vehicles emit.</p><p>It is an opportunity to look at the job of weeding the garden as "harvesting" good nutritious food. It changes the atmosphere of that chore.</p><p>Happy foraging. </p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-58261604319536991152024-02-22T14:40:00.000-06:002024-02-22T14:40:21.356-06:00Ready, Set, Go... Slowly<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHFG-Ah6dFpN0M-JsCI27BuFwFqPvuqXnRdYgvRcnDvaA1do505p067gxQOQTJ4Ar6oyWFIr9XcCakIbcQ-neAyp7s9MgK2d4vXKvyI1rA3WuRgKyd7tlWBec87aprTSSYVKkpOP6nkHCe95phE27-sDl0UkukRXrZOXkaa7T0sNWEkwl93BrWJEauT8/s500/DSC03570.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="377" data-original-width="500" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHFG-Ah6dFpN0M-JsCI27BuFwFqPvuqXnRdYgvRcnDvaA1do505p067gxQOQTJ4Ar6oyWFIr9XcCakIbcQ-neAyp7s9MgK2d4vXKvyI1rA3WuRgKyd7tlWBec87aprTSSYVKkpOP6nkHCe95phE27-sDl0UkukRXrZOXkaa7T0sNWEkwl93BrWJEauT8/w640-h482/DSC03570.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div> This is my Winter sunrise, a brilliant light shining through the bones of trees. Once the branches fill with leaves I won't see the sun for another 15 to 20 minutes. At this time of year I readily rise well before sunrise, so I can experience the gray predawn light and watch the light brighten and the sun top the hill beyond my woods.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXxXfU-MVvGaQw0JHPVNlN1MJQLDPhfdTugAA0aOAUvjqmGtYWSfq3mO6bsHXonhJfepdcyPVwkCJeEOrv3Jib3gA0zC4ocoSI2q0W4BxNsg3NaeGhLRvLANSQhAmO8KPZ1ehsSjyzHN7IiFegG_PzTWsT1We6AObTUuArcbPkKv1YOUzNgs3iauNl3XU/s500/aconite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXxXfU-MVvGaQw0JHPVNlN1MJQLDPhfdTugAA0aOAUvjqmGtYWSfq3mO6bsHXonhJfepdcyPVwkCJeEOrv3Jib3gA0zC4ocoSI2q0W4BxNsg3NaeGhLRvLANSQhAmO8KPZ1ehsSjyzHN7IiFegG_PzTWsT1We6AObTUuArcbPkKv1YOUzNgs3iauNl3XU/w400-h300/aconite.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter aconite</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>I almost always go out, barefoot, to experience the early morning and take a few deep breaths of fresh air. I like to start the day slowly.</p><p>Signs of spring are obvious then in the number of songbirds that fly through the clearing as they wake up and begin to sing. </p><p>This is a time of beginnings... each morning a fresh start. And Spring definitely brings all kinds of new, renewal, regenerations. The birds begin singing, preparing to bring new life into the world. Green begins to poke through the soil and flowers pop up. </p><p>The winter aconite was the first to open its yellow eyes. The yellow crocus is always the first to bloom. The purple and white ones will come soon. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkEbsRDRjofXV0RnB6XnhmzpOSJRVfTzVNipddQTsbyl52yjJ_zfZSB_wTUtY2HEvka2TDzheDrxXENwGxXhLP8VelvOdN-63MeJhN90-znur28RmymoROAC96HdxurbEHYq1ogPjlYZIqNwALBENQtWGipUxVti8aBD-uJeIPJRW2s_iftsuWP0zmvs/s500/crocus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="434" data-original-width="500" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkEbsRDRjofXV0RnB6XnhmzpOSJRVfTzVNipddQTsbyl52yjJ_zfZSB_wTUtY2HEvka2TDzheDrxXENwGxXhLP8VelvOdN-63MeJhN90-znur28RmymoROAC96HdxurbEHYq1ogPjlYZIqNwALBENQtWGipUxVti8aBD-uJeIPJRW2s_iftsuWP0zmvs/s320/crocus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I love the it's the yellow flowers that are the first to pop open. It's like bringing more sunshine into the world.<p></p><p>More sunshine is what we need at this time of year.</p><p>The yellow flowers pull in Spring and encourage all the other flowers.</p><p>I think I will strive to be a yellow flower blooming as Winter ends.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-47998605347033968322024-02-10T21:10:00.000-06:002024-02-10T21:10:07.699-06:00Winter Pruning -- Another Look<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1TteR5wktnE2coAWj9T_S8xMATazSuCIM_9kBTh2EJDg-N2yMkmHggUmKGOODlWWv7A5jP9az4geH6b9SelHsXb4jd5kd7pebDWbut61PSE2up9ZQC_eifOjy9HApz2bl8IOfalDpEjRLE2aq-gZz5Soc0obZO7qSdQHZrevh9rR6Ma9FVIDkDsdFYM/s500/apple%20trees.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="361" data-original-width="500" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1TteR5wktnE2coAWj9T_S8xMATazSuCIM_9kBTh2EJDg-N2yMkmHggUmKGOODlWWv7A5jP9az4geH6b9SelHsXb4jd5kd7pebDWbut61PSE2up9ZQC_eifOjy9HApz2bl8IOfalDpEjRLE2aq-gZz5Soc0obZO7qSdQHZrevh9rR6Ma9FVIDkDsdFYM/w640-h462/apple%20trees.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These apple trees want to be pruned!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Pruning of the elderberries -- which might more properly be called "slashing" of the elderberries -- has been completed for the year. Although, I will do more pruning as they grow out over the path, or crowd each other. That pruning won't be as severe.<div><p>The elderberries aren't the only things to be pruned at this time of year, though. Our apple trees also need to be pruned. Some haven't been taken care of in a few years. As you can see in the photo below, the little Liberty apple tree has become quite crowded with branches. Winter pruning shapes the trees, opens them up so sunlight can reach all the leaves and help produce more apples, and spurs growth. It must be done before mid-March or so, before the tree starts to really wake up. </p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSRT5q0GZ2cm9QzcJS0GqZhWN4LDl5t_thmf_y3Hf4lcPa5YmmQ3ziQTGm7KW2Y1LcS-sWrAdPFOQbWZE80MMSFjXxHbQ8SZO_eX6fu37LvHu0JVAKa190FHKLH0xQloreOZLLR93M3VQZnbNxynDVJFGaM-9KJdIHi3mLAPyFBwGGMvRvatQNU4UKnUk/s500/apple%20needs%20pruning.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="375" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSRT5q0GZ2cm9QzcJS0GqZhWN4LDl5t_thmf_y3Hf4lcPa5YmmQ3ziQTGm7KW2Y1LcS-sWrAdPFOQbWZE80MMSFjXxHbQ8SZO_eX6fu37LvHu0JVAKa190FHKLH0xQloreOZLLR93M3VQZnbNxynDVJFGaM-9KJdIHi3mLAPyFBwGGMvRvatQNU4UKnUk/w480-h640/apple%20needs%20pruning.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The branches of this little apple tree are too crowded.</td></tr></tbody></table>Pruning apple trees requires more thought than slashing the elderberries, plus a bit of intuition. We've got a book called "How to Prune Everything," and you can find lots of online resources about pruning, plus the local Extension office probably has a resource on pruning fruit trees. Pears and stone fruits (cherries, apricots, peaches, etc.) should be pruned during summer when they are less susceptible to certain diseases. <br /></p><p>I'm also thinking of another kind of winter pruning, often called "decluttering." My sewing room, which also contains a deep freeze and our second refrigerator, needs a good decluttering. I've been going to really go through it for a couple of years. Last winter I even started... cleared off, rearranged and dusted the shelves on one wall.</p><p>Thought I'd get back to it. Didn't.</p><p>Our garage needs decluttering, clearing out... so does the attic. And the filing cabinets in the office contain files no longer needed. Some files could be thinned. How many years of bank statements do I really need. I could get rid of one of the cabinets if I'd just...</p><p>But like with our apple trees, the "pruning" waits.</p><p>Another type of pruning has little to do with physical space, and more about mental and emotional space. Do you feel overwhelmed with all the things you must do? Maybe postpone a task or two on the "to do" list. Do you feel too busy with regular activities or commitments? Which one of those things do not "spark joy?" Does something feel like just an obligation, a burden, and no longer something you want to do? Cut it out. Use that energy for the other things that have value to you.</p><p>For 30 years I wrote a gardening column. I started it when I worked for a small town newspaper. It began as just a corner of a page with information from Extension. Gradually, it took root and blossomed into a personal column about my gardening experiences. When I quit that job and moved to a neighboring county 16 years ago, I offered it to what is now my local paper. I enjoyed sharing my loves and experiences of gardening.</p><p>A few years ago, however, I began to enjoy it less, then it became burdensome. I kept at it because I made a little money from it, and I thought readers would be disappointed if I quit. So I kept slogging away. Last fall, though, I realized that it was dragging me down. I would agonize over the topic, sometimes for days. When I got around to writing, it took a few hours or more. I kept procrastinating for longer and longer periods. It sapped all my creative energy.</p><p>One day last fall, I listened to a podcast in which they discussed the topic "Where do you want to put your energy?" One of the people told how she sometimes lays awake at nice worrying and fretting. When she catches herself she asks, "Is this where I want to put my energy?"</p><p>Immediately my mind went to the column. My response was lightning fast. In that moment I decided to abandon the column and move on. I sent in a few more and bowed out.</p><p>Since then, I've had the energy for creating more posts here, plus start looking at other writing projects that I'd put on hold. I feel free.</p><p>We prune apple trees and some other trees in winter when most of their creative energy is in their roots. With fewer branches, they have more energy to put into growing the remaining branches, filling them with leaves and fruit. Proper pruning gets rid of dead, dying and diseased limbs, opens up the canopy so sunlight can penetrate more deeply, and (it is hoped) create a more pleasant looking form.</p><p>A little personal pruning can do the same.</p><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-89992441623739194372024-02-05T20:29:00.000-06:002024-02-05T20:29:33.477-06:00Barefoot Again<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2s2hW37q9lbMQf8nyrBrXbosSmCTLZypRezp09EfWEUj-YcWnb_QNxZ2Ac_lgKbFYC0tM45P-4ZnQyirTx8C32KiK4DsIvseCiLCXM7l5KOeJgSi44oWjfB-W5kyX0ONJ_gd3l1WNe4AlSdOFXIRaz4EBRfNGNlWoLZF3oIUmwvcmNoVOR0i67-jaUs/s600/feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="486" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2s2hW37q9lbMQf8nyrBrXbosSmCTLZypRezp09EfWEUj-YcWnb_QNxZ2Ac_lgKbFYC0tM45P-4ZnQyirTx8C32KiK4DsIvseCiLCXM7l5KOeJgSi44oWjfB-W5kyX0ONJ_gd3l1WNe4AlSdOFXIRaz4EBRfNGNlWoLZF3oIUmwvcmNoVOR0i67-jaUs/w518-h640/feet.jpg" width="518" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I was barefoot gardening today! </p><p>I began tidying things, starting at the very back of the garden where lots of perennial things grow. The little strip I worked on today contains some native plants that delineate where the back edge is. It creates sort of a transition. Tomorrow I will move to another spot at the very back. I want to start there because when it's time next month to put plants and seeds in the garden the back edge will get neglected, so I want to do some work on it now. The top inch or so of the soil was soft enough to pull little henbit plants, but deeper it's still frozen. That means I have to wait to dig out some things that have gotten too large for the space.</p><p>It's also time to start my cabbage and broccoli transplants so they'll be ready for the garden by mid-March. Time to get busy!</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-70065820171988929702024-02-03T14:05:00.001-06:002024-02-03T14:05:29.198-06:00Winter Pruning - Elderberries<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOnqQ1P3_1J4lC6o5FhWVNCbV5DyZM6LW0c1-PeGCsK1G-mXJWz8PVvgWCBxb0CRFwnmjSDbmFrOOo-PUNp6yWDlqYcD-fBJcnZ-JuxyS5VD3RTvyiqNp0AhLPem3MhxIpTPR5JYnhlgegk8YhCAHgYEMXlvIyYE5vtNJD9M9sZDgaMLxXZdLmXE5LKnM/s500/elder%20prunings.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="375" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOnqQ1P3_1J4lC6o5FhWVNCbV5DyZM6LW0c1-PeGCsK1G-mXJWz8PVvgWCBxb0CRFwnmjSDbmFrOOo-PUNp6yWDlqYcD-fBJcnZ-JuxyS5VD3RTvyiqNp0AhLPem3MhxIpTPR5JYnhlgegk8YhCAHgYEMXlvIyYE5vtNJD9M9sZDgaMLxXZdLmXE5LKnM/w480-h640/elder%20prunings.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I took advantage of the spring-like weather yesterday to prune the elderberries, something I had wanted to do for three days. These are the prunings taken from just one of the bushes. Sixteen years ago I bought elderberry cuttings from a woman in Oklahoma who supplied elderberries to a Kansas winery that specializes in elderberry wine. She told me that they needed to be pruned severely each year. She didn't tell me exactly what she meant by "severely," so I did the pruning in various ways. The first few years I pruned a bit timidly.</p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HkxrMOKq52ao2f1_L4PfCXtFQBMzVnLY_a2cKvxfruumzLMLaatkQFXDHAJQ2UK9UKPs3bx9GpEGWfS7asu1EMKfwSTQquMa5VnfW6QGmrhMnBxLkmg1xZGoUAo-1-nUPQf6wIbVjf8fAB87Ss4KJYZun9qpRkSyFNfJwICzitWDsVvqA3UibHbeXDA/s500/elder%20pre-pruning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="419" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HkxrMOKq52ao2f1_L4PfCXtFQBMzVnLY_a2cKvxfruumzLMLaatkQFXDHAJQ2UK9UKPs3bx9GpEGWfS7asu1EMKfwSTQquMa5VnfW6QGmrhMnBxLkmg1xZGoUAo-1-nUPQf6wIbVjf8fAB87Ss4KJYZun9qpRkSyFNfJwICzitWDsVvqA3UibHbeXDA/w335-h400/elder%20pre-pruning.jpg" width="335" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One shrub pre-prune</td></tr></tbody></table><br />For a few years I tried pruning one clump in a more tree-like form. My elderberries are a shrubby, native species, <i>Sambucus canadensis</i>, as opposed to the European black elder, <i>Sambucus nigra,</i> which is a true tree. </p><p>As years went by I started being bolder with my pruning, cutting them back to about my height (5' 3" or 160 centimeters). I would take out some of the really old, large trunks, which often had a lot of dead branches, as well as pruning back unruly branches that stuck out too far. No matter how much I cut off, they always grew to more than eight feet tall with a pretty good spread by the end of the season.</p><p>A neighbor told me last night that he prunes his elderberries various ways each year, leaving some unpruned, pruning some to a few feet tall, and whacking some off clear to the ground. He said he hasn't paid any attention to how each pruning style compared to the others. Elderberries are tough plants that grow wild in road ditches and at the edges of wooded areas. When I say they're tough, I mean it. They do prefer damp areas and a tad bit of shade, though. But they will grow in denser shade, full sun and not-so-damp areas.</p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJWhI_wqEMY0pE_OCXsjB1CxUtcvSXF4Sr1V0AfB0HTZj6UlV8klqSoFElOOJ8XrEqPcyKByQ7kPJDNTAfzLKfIQTVA-Ya0h1l9Cux_d9Z8KZbNFihIfyQAGkztQDSBupAL1Y8lG4w-0HBljkAP-rLFA2WJOF0WK2gerBJOD-Nwb0W-iZgav03uYwnUY/s500/elder%20post-pruning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="349" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJWhI_wqEMY0pE_OCXsjB1CxUtcvSXF4Sr1V0AfB0HTZj6UlV8klqSoFElOOJ8XrEqPcyKByQ7kPJDNTAfzLKfIQTVA-Ya0h1l9Cux_d9Z8KZbNFihIfyQAGkztQDSBupAL1Y8lG4w-0HBljkAP-rLFA2WJOF0WK2gerBJOD-Nwb0W-iZgav03uYwnUY/w279-h400/elder%20post-pruning.jpg" width="279" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Same shrub, post-prune</td></tr></tbody></table>I pruned my elderberries a bit more severely this year to revitalize them. In the process, I took a couple<br /> of cuttings and stuck them in the ground in the larger patch of shrubs. One of the plants is too close to the edge of the patch, where it can interfere with mowing and walking, so I stuck the cuttings in a little farther. Yes, they will take root if you just stick a healthy cutting in damp soil and wait. I was surprised, too when it actually worked. Until I learned that, I had started more plants by digging up the runners, which didn't always work well. Next year I will keep cutting back the shrub that's too close to the edge to keep it in check. </p><p>Several other <i>Sambucus</i> species are native to North America, and most are edible and medicinal. I have no experience with any of those. According to some of the things I've read, some are a cross between <i>S. canadensis</i> and the European elder.</p><p>Elderberries provide a number of health benefits, including being antiviral. So the juice, jam, etc. are good to have on hand. You also can make tinctures, and dry the berries to make teas. Elderberry seeds are mildly toxic, so don't eat large quantities of raw berries. The toxin is destroyed by drying and cooking. If you want raw juice put the berries through a juicer that won't crack the seeds. </p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPmM6En3Iqp947gDdrYnxv7YGKRZstkhJGJslxU2LiWwCCjGADHjdYtqi0EahrVQRyOpudF1J96ZHEXicP8s2bjRnRK3XMvCYRbb2DuQZvw9qZN5CrOeZfs4of89NHpmSNTepYFtqzA-eSPYYZ0FLJJCgUmuKBYHuym1t7LT3f2QXMNhRXCqso3aw9BA/s500/ab017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="486" data-original-width="500" height="389" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPmM6En3Iqp947gDdrYnxv7YGKRZstkhJGJslxU2LiWwCCjGADHjdYtqi0EahrVQRyOpudF1J96ZHEXicP8s2bjRnRK3XMvCYRbb2DuQZvw9qZN5CrOeZfs4of89NHpmSNTepYFtqzA-eSPYYZ0FLJJCgUmuKBYHuym1t7LT3f2QXMNhRXCqso3aw9BA/w400-h389/ab017.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elderberry flowers in June.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The flowers also have health benefits and a delicate flavor. They can be dried and tinctured or used for tea. A pleasant way to use them is in Midsummer wine: steep a lot of the flowers in a white wine overnight, then strain. Pour a glass half full of the wine and add sparkling water and ice. Oh, dear, I'm already anticipating the flowers at Midsummer (in June), and it's only February.</p><p>I freeze the whole berries after destemming so I can work them up at a less busy time of year. This year I processed them into a pulpy juice planning to do jam, but stuck it back in the freezer because unanticipated events delayed my working it into jam. It's still in the freezer, patiently waiting.</p><p>When I thaw the whole frozen berries, A lot of juice separates from the berries. I dump it all in one of those crank food mills to remove most of the seeds and skin. Then I'm left with a thick, kind of pulpy juice. I use Pomona's Best Pectin, which is reflected in the recipe because it has pectin powder and a calcium solution. </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="font-size: large;">Elderberry Jam<br /></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">4 cups processed elderberries<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">¼
cup lemon juice<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">¾ teaspoon cinnamon<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">1/8 teaspoon cardamom<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">¼ teaspoon nutmeg<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Pinch of clove<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">2 teaspoons calcium water<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">1 cup honey<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">2 teaspoons pectin powder<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></div><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Mix elderberries (measured
after processing out seeds), lemon juice, seasonings and calcium
water in large saucepan. Bring to boil. Blend pectin with honey. Once liquid is
boiling, add honey/pectin blend and stir vigorously for 1 to 2 minutes to
dissolve pectin. Bring to boil and remove from heat. Fill hot, sterile jars and
process in boiling water bath, 10 minutes for half pints, 15 minutes for pints.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-56241345392357290702024-02-02T05:30:00.001-06:002024-02-02T05:30:00.139-06:00The Thaw<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZ4MlU9npgR9fnl7nxJweSuT08DGPeaOfltiqXk4WTmNF6IldI9DrIGSxltAc4S0rXbBS1Q7wrZUbPbUJM4Q6As_plr4Hv1nhazPdJ6dsNAbLQfBRHbU-Z7slgUCNgx3-KAfKB31_0-8tiNquGWp9voS_nJRXZV5jY2OJvSvshWH3lWoxg2DhSQekmBs/s500/DSC03564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="500" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZ4MlU9npgR9fnl7nxJweSuT08DGPeaOfltiqXk4WTmNF6IldI9DrIGSxltAc4S0rXbBS1Q7wrZUbPbUJM4Q6As_plr4Hv1nhazPdJ6dsNAbLQfBRHbU-Z7slgUCNgx3-KAfKB31_0-8tiNquGWp9voS_nJRXZV5jY2OJvSvshWH3lWoxg2DhSQekmBs/w640-h416/DSC03564.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>We keep a 2x4 horse tank next to our sauna so we can take a cold plunge during saunas... My husband and I do a cold plunge every day because of its many supposed benefits. It's a challenge to get in, but we feel better once it's done.</p><p>During our week of bitter, bitter cold the water in the tank froze solid, all the way to the bottom. After three days with the temperature a few degrees above freezing we attempted to dump out the ice. Some melt had occurred, but it wouldn't come out. A day or so later my husband took an ice pick and broke up the ice. And this is a photo of it. The ice is now all melted, except for a very small chunk. </p><p>That makes this a fitting photo for today, the Celtic first day of spring, Imbolc. The thaw begins. I have always dedicated this day to honoring the Great Goddess Brighid -- healer, patroness of artists and craftsmen, forge fire, hearth fire. She has many sacred wells where people go for healing. This is something I wrote for her a number of years ago, and modified a bit today. </p><p>Born in Fire,</p><p>Born at the break of day,</p><p>You cracked open the World, </p><p>Setting the hills ablaze</p><p>With your Sacred Flame.</p><p><br /></p><p>Your Crown of Flames</p><p>Reaches to the Heavens, </p><p>Your Heart is filled with Fire.</p><p>You are Living Flame.</p><p><br /></p><p>Ignite your fire within us</p><p>To melt the icy grip of fear.</p><p>Ignite within us your fire to melt hardened hearts.</p><p>Ignite within us your fire of passion.</p><p>Ignite the flame of inspiration.</p><p>Ignite the flame that forges,</p><p>Create us anew to forge a better world.</p><p>Ignite the fire of Justice.</p><p><br /></p><p>Let your Sacred Wells overflow,</p><p>Bringing healing to all hearts.</p><p>Throw your Bright Blue Mantle over the world</p><p>To heal us all. </p><p>Let your Sacred Wells overflow,</p><p>Healing us with Peace.</p><p><br /></p><p>Spread your green cloak across the land</p><p>Growing until it covers all the World</p><p>That all shall be Free.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-18534636800706584142024-02-01T07:00:00.004-06:002024-02-01T08:20:30.599-06:00Spring Whispers<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KEtNVjDMyNejCf6nREh94hlIyqL5TyFXsg8YaxGbayDT1DQAQPAxOZSxhaMazagrVu0OlEA1NlDa4-Ld1aDdRL9UZ8RkjEjjSbIR5vpx_uJAjko6KBydyuhW8K2Qd-JE2hRuzrRVKGVytr3R9rjQnaueYNg_mixstKl3sicErpLUTy9RyuKt3n24ebo/s500/DSC03566.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="500" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KEtNVjDMyNejCf6nREh94hlIyqL5TyFXsg8YaxGbayDT1DQAQPAxOZSxhaMazagrVu0OlEA1NlDa4-Ld1aDdRL9UZ8RkjEjjSbIR5vpx_uJAjko6KBydyuhW8K2Qd-JE2hRuzrRVKGVytr3R9rjQnaueYNg_mixstKl3sicErpLUTy9RyuKt3n24ebo/w640-h428/DSC03566.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beneath the snow, the garden is green.<br />This dianthus remained green all winter.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Spring whispers to the trees,</p><p style="text-align: left;">“I am coming.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Buds swell a tiny bit. Sap rises slowly.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Spring whispers to the roots, and bulbs, and rhizomes,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">“I am coming.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Tiny roots begin to dig through the soil, searching.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Spring whispers to the seeds lying in the soil,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">“I am coming.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Something stirs within… a tiny plant preparing.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Spring whispers to the birds,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">“I am coming.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">One bird begins to sing… then another… and another…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Spring whispers throughout the land,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">“I am coming.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Winter loosens its grip…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Geese call in formation, headed to summer homes…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">A fresh wind blows…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Daffodil shoots test the air…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">River ice cracks…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">The thaw begins…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">The ewe’s belly swells,</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Her milk flows.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Spring whispers, “I am coming.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">I am here.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">The ancient Celtic holiday begins today and ends sundown tomorrow -- Imbolc, Oimelg,
Candlemas, or (not so ancient or Celtic) Groundhog Day.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Ancient holidays always focused on the seasons. They were
less about worshiping or honoring deities than about tuning into the cycles of
Nature, hearing the rhythms of the Land. They celebrated the ebbs and flows of
agriculture and food gathering. In some traditions, this is the true First Day
of Spring.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7NHUxnLqZWICcEhbrRmU9PoPG5qGGzvq8LMm_DmsQhU51MlrjcD30MRVpOVX5cBlC0AUU7uxKpPOxhWnlufwGnGbQf8AEUt2P7GBaG0RTT4Ee1yvu8tdoCqNE48_Cem6x9mx1kpD9e8No_MNXkmm09KyspodUmVEahXN9t2gmQ-Pm-vo8P45EoZbnhVA/s500/DSC03166.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="493" data-original-width="500" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7NHUxnLqZWICcEhbrRmU9PoPG5qGGzvq8LMm_DmsQhU51MlrjcD30MRVpOVX5cBlC0AUU7uxKpPOxhWnlufwGnGbQf8AEUt2P7GBaG0RTT4Ee1yvu8tdoCqNE48_Cem6x9mx1kpD9e8No_MNXkmm09KyspodUmVEahXN9t2gmQ-Pm-vo8P45EoZbnhVA/w400-h395/DSC03166.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />The daylight hours are noticeably longer. River ice might
start to thaw. I often hear the call of geese overhead as they fly toward
summer homes.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">My goal for this coming year is to become even more attune to
the cycles of the seasons. They do seem to be changing, so it will require a
heightened awareness. And I want to develop a more intimate relationship with
the land I live on, not to just learn where the hills and dales are, but to get
to know the trees and stones and other beings that live here… to attune
energetically with the land that supports me. We can all do this to at least
begin to develop a better connection with Nature around us and within us. For
we are Nature, too. We’ve just become disconnected from that fact, and thus,
disconnected from who we really are, our essential selves.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">So I’ve developed a little meditation to help me connect
with Nature and the Land on which I live. You can play along, even if you live
in a big city. The “concrete jungle” is supported by land, and Nature lives
there, too.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Meditation to Honor the Land</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Find a place in Nature, with something growing. It can be an
open field, a woods, a single tree, a patch of grass, or even a potted plant in
the mall.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Look at it closely. Notice colors, shades, shapes, shadows,
textures, if there are smells, or sounds. If you feel comfortable doing so,
touch the soil, or a plant, embrace the tree, or sit with your back to the
tree (ask the tree/plant for permission first). Feel the texture and temperature. Does moss grow on the tree or the soil?
Are there pebbles in the soil? And so on. Pay close attention to physical
details. No judgement, just attention.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Now breathe, slowly, deeply as you remain aware of Nature around you. Breathe slowly, deeply, become aware of Nature within you. Breathe with the tree, the grass,
the soil, the potted plant. Breathe with the Land, slowly deeply. Breathe…</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Now, assume that the tree, the grass, the land, etc. has a heartbeat
of some sort, a rhythm it keeps. Sync your heartbeat with that heartbeat. Sink
deeply into your heartbeat and that of Nature around you, within you.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">And breathe… slowly… deeply.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Breathe...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Inhale slowly, deeply...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Exhale, slowly, deeply...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Again...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Do this until you feel satisfied.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-47107978494458550792024-01-29T07:27:00.002-06:002024-01-29T07:27:23.298-06:00A Promise Kept... and a Lesson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0jiHj1ykdhz4iCsI2SNvZlCEsceeLPMAu0_n9v5khFkFUVErHCj1PitLwrKdQn9Z69Fx1rQdPoRmfrrJJMlo86HmNJFDScO5Qohj0oXE0BxqDazvN0L8hTG6PvvdakSOql5sbOO_0ICMCtbU0ORmQuNcCOjBEj66CDKzmgIBMrS9UYZ5pN7A1QtopZSw/s500/DSC03558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="500" height="578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0jiHj1ykdhz4iCsI2SNvZlCEsceeLPMAu0_n9v5khFkFUVErHCj1PitLwrKdQn9Z69Fx1rQdPoRmfrrJJMlo86HmNJFDScO5Qohj0oXE0BxqDazvN0L8hTG6PvvdakSOql5sbOO_0ICMCtbU0ORmQuNcCOjBEj66CDKzmgIBMrS9UYZ5pN7A1QtopZSw/w640-h578/DSC03558.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Bud turns into flower.</p><p>A promise is kept.</p><p>Promise...</p><p>Follow through...</p><p>This flower is from a bud produced by a walking iris that grows in a pot in my front room. It was not the same bud that I pictured here a few weeks ago. That bud produced a bloom that withered before I saw it. The blooms last merely a day. </p><p>That was a lesson to pay attention. Always take time to pay attention.</p><p>Or you miss the flowers.</p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-36153165375424477292024-01-21T18:18:00.001-06:002024-01-21T18:18:15.220-06:00Tracks<p> </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8gpaEArAMQjQfJXyfv24kUOULH6wOJaqWbcz4jel49gM8ZzRpNiAt3kTYSI0TPSGGxiMdE9g26sosLfgYotVT5G1tjaJSVaZRzv_rxjnla-mN1WnQxp3m54zVN7gAE7IawMbsGmHuZFtk0-vWweSbPXwRnBs3tnXwLmxk5EyTWft3ED3c_FoMxGPGfb8/s500/20240117_144932.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="375" height="637" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8gpaEArAMQjQfJXyfv24kUOULH6wOJaqWbcz4jel49gM8ZzRpNiAt3kTYSI0TPSGGxiMdE9g26sosLfgYotVT5G1tjaJSVaZRzv_rxjnla-mN1WnQxp3m54zVN7gAE7IawMbsGmHuZFtk0-vWweSbPXwRnBs3tnXwLmxk5EyTWft3ED3c_FoMxGPGfb8/w478-h637/20240117_144932.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What creature made these?<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>Winter is a difficult time for many people. The cold. The cloudiness. Being cooped up indoors.</p><p>I have had difficult winters. However, the remedy, I have found, is getting outdoors every day. For me, that means taking daily walks.</p><p>When I looked at the forecast for this past week (cold, colder and colder still) I thought that habit would be interrupted, especially when they called for winds that would send the wind chill way low.</p><p>But I have gear -- heavy work boots, insulated overalls, a down coat, heavy mittens. With a few layers of clothing underneath it all, I ventured out into the bitter cold and found that I could stay warm. The winds didn't manifest, so I had no interruption at all. </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgymqdMrZDB4viaBpmvTcRtFnqNGACrjwaHRWyBbo420r4gysLayqJp_6uN2wxea4xHFKEu7gqtTirjRqd4d5bM9Sn8CFRmzOUYLEjSU4RinxpAFqydrIlTFlKT4tpMnIBTCrSopoa2Ib4GLLJwudgAIr0fZSlifQfpcEHv1r6MDRUZhKxkZ7zRIj0NWg/s500/20240117_145650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="375" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgymqdMrZDB4viaBpmvTcRtFnqNGACrjwaHRWyBbo420r4gysLayqJp_6uN2wxea4xHFKEu7gqtTirjRqd4d5bM9Sn8CFRmzOUYLEjSU4RinxpAFqydrIlTFlKT4tpMnIBTCrSopoa2Ib4GLLJwudgAIr0fZSlifQfpcEHv1r6MDRUZhKxkZ7zRIj0NWg/w480-h640/20240117_145650.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of bird tracks.</td></tr></tbody></table>While the temperature wasn't as much of a challenge as I'd expected, the snow was. Wearing 10 or more pounds of cold-weather gear and plowing through the snow made each walk an extra workout. My legs should be even stronger by the time it melts, which might be tomorrow... after the ice.</p><p>The snow also allows me to see who been wandering around the homestead.</p><p>Deer make the most tracks, creating patterns that almost look as if they'd been dancing. We occasionally see them passing through, pausing to nibble what greenery they can find. However, their tracks in the snow provide evidence that they come through far more often than we see them.</p><p><br />I also find plenty of bird tracks in the snow, sometimes with indentations where their small bodies landed, as well as the occasional brush prints of wings. </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6oIXrv88mU11B387Si8KdH0TOe1aRuOVV31lkqPSZxY6Kvf7-BhwpPd54LzbCtvvvu7-zc5RR3pUqrlUjlAUhVvunZsKcxiiYcYbXKAwMOt4UzmgqY_8dNE82luX77ws4wQaVshjM5aQNCNg_my2zZcL_balFZ3r_Ier1yPZuh36JEX1vYpDb1XoM_w/s500/20240117_145607.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="311" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6oIXrv88mU11B387Si8KdH0TOe1aRuOVV31lkqPSZxY6Kvf7-BhwpPd54LzbCtvvvu7-zc5RR3pUqrlUjlAUhVvunZsKcxiiYcYbXKAwMOt4UzmgqY_8dNE82luX77ws4wQaVshjM5aQNCNg_my2zZcL_balFZ3r_Ier1yPZuh36JEX1vYpDb1XoM_w/w398-h640/20240117_145607.jpg" width="398" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bunny prints.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Rabbit tracks are an occasional find. We don't see many rabbits at any time of year, anymore. In March we often saw two or three rabbits dancing around, chasing each other in a mating dance. As litters were born and grew up the number of rabbit sightings would increase. At times we'd go out in the morning to a crowd of half a dozen bunnies or more. Rabbit sightings here are almost rare now. I am glad to see their tracks in the snow.</p><p>Other prints I've seen lately, just a few, were some tiny hand-like prints, probably squirrel. They're too small for raccoon tracks. Then, down on the driveway, I've found both canine and feline paw prints. It's difficult to tell whether the canine prints belong to coyotes or neighborhood dogs. The feline prints are small enough that they're most likely neighborhood cats.</p><p>And then finally, I see a lot of footprints like the ones in the photo at the top of this post. I dunno, too small for Sasquatch or an Abominable Snowman. Maybe a young one who traveled too far and got lost.</p><p>What do you think? </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-25649667738665187242024-01-16T13:48:00.000-06:002024-01-16T13:48:01.507-06:00Promises<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPHjR8m74UNXwJ47L3y31ukAo6XOELhyphenhyphen2Ucvt5syOApc1YswE-oGrxRFXLBdCVY-1kgcyzX89pImCwbicKJxiQgOs_t0CleqR6lp2AncQNkVeRQOJMKfdcOQD8-RfVm32JRVmv8Tmo6LWLwGvihRYDCgv6brf_lXBDpO2n1bARoaLED4C1LQeXSGpmw7I/s500/iris%20bud.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="354" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPHjR8m74UNXwJ47L3y31ukAo6XOELhyphenhyphen2Ucvt5syOApc1YswE-oGrxRFXLBdCVY-1kgcyzX89pImCwbicKJxiQgOs_t0CleqR6lp2AncQNkVeRQOJMKfdcOQD8-RfVm32JRVmv8Tmo6LWLwGvihRYDCgv6brf_lXBDpO2n1bARoaLED4C1LQeXSGpmw7I/w454-h640/iris%20bud.jpg" width="454" /></a></div><p>The walking irises in my "sun room" are developing buds.</p><p>A bud is a promise of a flower.</p><p>A flower promises seeds.</p><p>Seeds promise more plants. </p><p>However, I haven't seen seeds on the walking iris. The flowers do become little plantlets that, when the stalk bends down and the plantlet touches soil, become new plants. So, this remains a promise of new plants.</p><p>On Sunday, before my coffee, before I did anything else, I took about 15 minutes to bundle up and go outside. That sounds nuts, considering the temperature was about 10 degrees Fahrenheit below zero (minus 23 Celsius).</p><p>But it was Sunday. I like to change my routine a bit on Sundays. Usually that means skipping my workout and doing only yoga. However, this Sunday was different. Maybe going out into subzero weather simply felt a bit exciting.</p><p>Usually, my morning begins with me stepping outside for a few, or many, moments, often with a mug of coffee in hand. It helps me feel connected to the land. With this deep cold, though, I've skipped that habit. I missed that. So, out into the cold...</p><p>I had considered taking a short walk. Once the cold hit me, I reconsidered. I wasn't chilled yet, but... So my walk consisted of a couple of dozen steps to give me a good view of the garden.</p><p>The entrance arch was bare of greenery. Until the first freeze, it had been burden with huge loofa vines. The snow cover hid any trace of this having been a lush garden, except for the mounds that indicated where the planting beds are.</p><p>A barren wasteland... not.</p><p>I knew what had been there before. I knew what will grow there again. I had started gathering seeds. I have been planning where and what to plant. I have gathered a few things together in preparation for starting the earliest transplants -- cabbage, broccoli. My mind is full of greenery. In a few months, the garden will be, as well.</p><p>Promises. The garden I saw before me was not barren. It is full of promises. The seeds I've gathered are quiet promises. The day, the world, Life is full of promise. We just need to carry through, to bloom.</p><p>This iris bud, full of promise, will deliver on its promise... one beautiful little flower.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-49799039502344917562024-01-15T06:00:00.004-06:002024-01-15T06:00:00.273-06:00Sage Advice<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISLGoiGbeavu1XH5k0XbKvH3ke45CBKiK9zzgeZUPC5DwUnT59WuZOyIwZyHnDJVzlWlVujfZKGZ-tBvBatFR0cqjsO8BUtBzvJ4F0yp1tHT64nMS0nKFn7_r6dDFtzQyh9WIA2kjMx_Aqb3TKky1zJp9iRbvd6dTSM-39uPLYnXATpXD0obA_z5MsXA/s500/DSC03530.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="500" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISLGoiGbeavu1XH5k0XbKvH3ke45CBKiK9zzgeZUPC5DwUnT59WuZOyIwZyHnDJVzlWlVujfZKGZ-tBvBatFR0cqjsO8BUtBzvJ4F0yp1tHT64nMS0nKFn7_r6dDFtzQyh9WIA2kjMx_Aqb3TKky1zJp9iRbvd6dTSM-39uPLYnXATpXD0obA_z5MsXA/w640-h486/DSC03530.JPG" width="640" /></a></p>A heavy snow will disguise the smaller plants in the garden.<div><br /><div>However, I know who lives here.</div><div><br /></div><div>This snow-laden garden inhabitant is Sage, also known as Garden Sage, <i>Salvia officinalis</i>, one of my favorites.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sage is an old friend of mine. I planted it, along with a few others, in my first little herb garden 50 years ago. I do not recall what sparked my interest in medicinal herbs when I was a teen, but something did. Sage was one of the few herbs I could find at the time, along with garlic chives, rosemary and oregano. Even though my parents had a garden my entire life, I wasn't particularly interested in doing anything in the garden, except eating peas when they were in season. (I still eat peas while I'm in the garden.) I grudgingly went out with a hoe to weed. However, when I became interested in herbs, I became interested in growing things.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sage has followed me to every garden I've planted. They do say, “Where sage grows well, therein rules a strong woman.”</div><div><br /></div><div>I like to think I'm a strong woman, but I do not rule. We try to make this a partnership.</div><div><br /></div><div>My favorite use for sage is in making tea. The aromatic and bitter qualities of sage give it properties that are helpful to the digestion. As a pre-meal drink, sage tea revs up the digestive system, readying for the meal to come. It can be particularly useful with fatty meats. I prefer the flavor of fresh sage in my tea, but I'm also loving the tea from dried sage that I am drinking right now.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRgyxS9-iYVpAP0nDGeiOrHt2WiWRWo47wIoYh5n6oqYrXeiC5PPM_FvJkm7D2ReDDn3QiYNjxRVQ5b3-r0JIdZJ0_rXZX9_R2e-9d2mGPsUEtw1kM1II2PbCbihCbFMu4FwGzz20Vmw65VyVnvxbpYg42SIO1nXKYtN3GfQcFIOavGT7Z1iFNkL2jcY/s500/sage%20closeup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="367" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRgyxS9-iYVpAP0nDGeiOrHt2WiWRWo47wIoYh5n6oqYrXeiC5PPM_FvJkm7D2ReDDn3QiYNjxRVQ5b3-r0JIdZJ0_rXZX9_R2e-9d2mGPsUEtw1kM1II2PbCbihCbFMu4FwGzz20Vmw65VyVnvxbpYg42SIO1nXKYtN3GfQcFIOavGT7Z1iFNkL2jcY/w470-h640/sage%20closeup.jpg" width="470" /></a></div><br />Not only is sage useful for digestion, but it is a great herb for women. It is rich in calcium, magnesium, potassium, zinc and thiamine, nutrients that support emotional energy and calm. Its estrogenic properties might help alleviate symptoms of both insufficient and excess estrogen. Sage's estrogenic effect is weaker than that of real estrogen, so if it attaches itself to estrogen receptors and takes the place of estrogen made by the body, it reduces estrogen's impact. On the other hand, in insufficiency, it will "take a seat" in estrogen receptors the body isn't filling, so increasing estrogen impact. That is what I was told. I am not certain how strong of an impact it actually has on either of these conditions.</div><div><br /></div><div>However, it does help menopausal and post-menopausal women, particularly in reducing night sweats. Drink cold sage tea before bed, or keep a glass of it by the bed to drink when night sweats occur. It also helps eliminate menopausal headaches. I recommended this remedy to a friend who was experiencing night sweats, and it worked for her.</div><div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Sage is antiseptic and can be used as a mouthwash, or as a soak to relieve athletes foot..<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Sage helps improve mental clarity and memory, something I need right now. It is not for nothing that the word "sage" also means "wise person." "Sagacity" is wisdom. This association goes back thousands of years. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Sage is a key ingredient in poultry seasoning and stuffing. Saute sage and onions for a tasty accompaniment to meats or vegetables. Baked sage make a great looking and tasty garnish. Lightly coat large, fresh sage leaves with extra virgin olive oil,
spread thinly on a baking sheet and put in a 400 degree oven until crispy
(15-20 minutes). Chop
a few sage leaves into soups and stews, along with other herbs such as oregano,
thyme and bay. Add late in the cooking process as over cooking can bring out
its bitterness. Chop on top of pizza, put in grilled cheese, bake into breads,
butters, dips, spreads, toss with pasta, mix into sauerkraut or potato salad.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sage has a long and storied history and was thought to bestow
wisdom and longevity. Through its association with immortality it was once
planted on graves. Although, if you eat enough sage, you shouldn't need a grave. After all, the “motto” of sorts of a 10<sup>th</sup> Century medical school in Italy was
“Why should a man die when he can go to his garden for sage?”</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwvrw_42lKSsDuvBhchcOqlW6po-e2ZdFrPBTGkNPFa10PFBD23QHCM-uw97jMqVbaJIcYR3jT35ARmwTZL7QZvK82eLY1BW-BMW3gpH2w-RWTb-i-X3oQvToOR_9zWE9gqaYldcu3Fman08IJ6-kKgqaNFA4LGUoL3UBPjrdlJDCj0-nSEOQin23vOeQ/s500/sageinbloom.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="500" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwvrw_42lKSsDuvBhchcOqlW6po-e2ZdFrPBTGkNPFa10PFBD23QHCM-uw97jMqVbaJIcYR3jT35ARmwTZL7QZvK82eLY1BW-BMW3gpH2w-RWTb-i-X3oQvToOR_9zWE9gqaYldcu3Fman08IJ6-kKgqaNFA4LGUoL3UBPjrdlJDCj0-nSEOQin23vOeQ/w400-h328/sageinbloom.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Late this winter, I will prune the sage plants a bit to remove some of the woodiness, and to encourage spring growth. Lightly harvesting sage throughout the growing season will spur it to produce fresh growth all summer long. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Native to the Mediterranean region, sage is nonetheless pretty hardy here in Kansas. It does tend to wane in vigor after several years, but I once had a 20-year-old sage plant that survived two moves from one garden to another.</p><p class="MsoNormal">The flowers in late May or June have their own sagey flavor and can be used in salads or to garnish other types of dishes. Bumblebees visit the flowers often, and even hummingbirds will sip the nectar. The flower stalks are lovely mixed with other flowers in a vase. Plus, as a small, gray-green shrub, sage is lovely in the garden. While it could be used as sort of a short hedge, I think it looks best as a specimen plant, accenting different parts of the garden. Planting it near large stones helps it make it through cold winter months.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I love sage. I hope that it will help me become a wise, old, strong woman.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p></p></div></div>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-64061314757530275472024-01-10T22:13:00.004-06:002024-01-11T18:14:40.840-06:00Light is Returning<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWcD1RB49hSInDlbW1NkFLIW9-dHeOC-wm0gcL3dZGYf41UG58FAtilcNcwbiUJ6DVKpik8I-BAgSQcfu5LIpVeO3Bq4m-Bl0w43y0FRgOi9bGJiW-Jf5LlsYeusXtFeBTh0u0AC_84CyRDInd_drqnC_SqV6PssxdpvP-2rbZIHPu-kkyWrV63drb48/s500/DSC03554.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="303" data-original-width="500" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWcD1RB49hSInDlbW1NkFLIW9-dHeOC-wm0gcL3dZGYf41UG58FAtilcNcwbiUJ6DVKpik8I-BAgSQcfu5LIpVeO3Bq4m-Bl0w43y0FRgOi9bGJiW-Jf5LlsYeusXtFeBTh0u0AC_84CyRDInd_drqnC_SqV6PssxdpvP-2rbZIHPu-kkyWrV63drb48/w640-h388/DSC03554.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>A few minutes after 8 this morning and the sun had lifted itself to the top of the neighboring hill in order to shine on me through the leafless upper branches of trees near our home.</p><p>This was 20 minutes after the official sunrise time, which was (confusingly) a few minutes later than on the Solstice, when the sun hit its lowest point south. However, the sun set 16 minutes later today. I went out for my walk at a quarter to 5 today and still had daylight when I returned half an hour later. A couple of weeks earlier, it would have been dark. Light is indeed returning. </p><p>In three weeks, on Imbolc, more popularly known as Groundhog Day, Feb. 2, the return of the sun will be even more evident -- rising 13 minutes earlier and setting 25 minutes later than today. We will have more than 10 hours of daylight that day, as opposed to just under nine and a half hours on the Solstice.</p><p>In ancient Celtic traditions, and most likely in current ones, Imbolc was considered the first day of spring. The worst of the winter was over, and it was obvious that daylight hours were growing. The ewes were pregnant (Imbolc is said to mean "in the belly") and their milk flowing (another name for the holy day is Oilmelg, "ewe's milk").</p><p>It also marks the halfway point between the Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox. In Christian traditions it's known as Candlemas, harking back to Pagan traditions of honoring Light and blessing candles that would be used throughout the year.</p><p>I have long celebrated the day by honoring the ancient Celtic goddess Brighid, the most powerful goddess of that tradition. She is a goddess of fire, especially the forge fire -- which makes her a goddess of creative works. She is a goddess of the heart fire, so a household goddess. Ironically, this goddess of fire also had many sacred wells dedicated to her, because she is a goddess of healing. She is the earth and blesses seed, and gardens and fields. The question is, what doesn't she do?</p><p>She rides in on the backs of geese, which begin to return to their summer homes at that time. Magic trails from the wings of geese calling in the night as they fly.</p><p>Spring will come. Light returns.</p><p>For the next three weeks I will prepare. Perhaps I'll make candles from scraps of wax saved from used up candles. I'll make a Bride's doll from grasses and such that I find. She will lie in a basket bed with a bottle of strong, dark beer, or whiskey, a symbol of fertility. Later I will hang her near the garden to bless and protect it. The drink, full of fertility from the symbolic coupling of god and goddess, will be poured on the garden as a blessing. Tools of my craft and garden, as well as seeds will be laid out for a blessing.</p><p>On that day I may feast on sheep's milk cheese and gluten-free, keto-friendly bread, then spend time meditating by the hearth fire, and in creative work.</p><p>I will welcome Spring, for Light is returning.</p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-38870799082660747242024-01-09T22:44:00.002-06:002024-01-09T22:44:38.650-06:00Carry Over<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqVohqeWuQbi92ABjE5F-bXx-A8HqxZ4TTD5FYUFKXfAjUMHxe4YLqllmUuGFSl4-X-nel9Z9Ls9x37lq6TvoX88SEsvKa-b6dUabXm0jZbp0yF5P0CMeZmpJtR5ocmeWZuakSGwVaSw0blgzN4cGO55SkIn1wBJrO0VPIbspZBItNQNk72PxQLRq7FCI/s500/DSC03549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="500" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqVohqeWuQbi92ABjE5F-bXx-A8HqxZ4TTD5FYUFKXfAjUMHxe4YLqllmUuGFSl4-X-nel9Z9Ls9x37lq6TvoX88SEsvKa-b6dUabXm0jZbp0yF5P0CMeZmpJtR5ocmeWZuakSGwVaSw0blgzN4cGO55SkIn1wBJrO0VPIbspZBItNQNk72PxQLRq7FCI/w640-h428/DSC03549.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The first thing I did this morning -- before coffee, even -- was finish folding laundry that I did yesterday.</p><p>It's not unusual for the folding, or at least the putting away to wait until the day after laundry day, but it is unusual for me to get to it very first thing. The weather would not have let clothes dry outside on the line. So a lot of things got hung on racks in the front room, near the fire, in the way of easy cleaning out of the wood stove, which my husband always does before anything else.</p><p>First thing this morning I finished a job I started yesterday.</p><p>It made me think about all of the undone tasks in the garden now hidden in snow.</p><p>These are tasks that had no specific deadline, just "as soon as I can." Some got started, then abandoned for the urgent spring planting and weeding. Later I got back to some of them, only to stop for the urgent fall planting and daily watering. </p><p>Never mind, though. Most of the tasks can be picked up and done at any time, even through the winter. My plan was to complete, or at least continue some of them through the winter until the ground froze, or it came time for early spring planting.</p><p>But completing our root cellar, holidays, a 100th birthday celebration, a bedside vigil, funeral, weather, and -- did I say holidays? -- kept me out of the garden most of the time. Only some tasks that needed done before early spring planting got any attention. I did dig some horseradish out of the muck. I also pulled the last of the purple daikons so they wouldn't freeze in the coming Arctic weather -- although they're still in a bucket in the garage waiting to be cleaned and trimmed.</p><p>I'll have some catching up to do when the thaw comes.</p><p>Right now, though, several inches of snow lie on the garden, and the temperatures will drop, drop, drop, for at least a week, bottoming out (I hope) at something like minus 11 Fahrenheit. The thaw may be some time in coming.</p><p>So I'll work on indoor tasks, like ordering seeds, making the planting schedule, patching my jeans, reorganizing the pantry, and so on -- many of these tasks are carry-overs from past years. I never run out of things to do.</p><p>My list of things to do for tomorrow is five days long -- not even counting the things I do every day. I don't expect to complete them all tomorrow, so when I don't I won't fret, just keep moving.</p><p>So first thing I'll do in the morning is have my coffee, then step outside and breathe cold, fresh air before sitting with my husband for our daily meditation time. Just keep breathing.</p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-53635017170403800162023-12-31T07:28:00.000-06:002023-12-31T07:28:00.725-06:00Death Only an Illusion<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisTXVDY25SpdZmFOELqmePS5xH8leMDPirdtoWl6xw0dJxNLB1jK4M_VfhBuMvsxf0og6s7_0O48iLbnTbtgFg_WSDsvp_omr5ZiFYpwXdVtVQ4BSJBoFSq3BNXA2XoP-U_1JcMTPQWqQHT8qtEwUIZgBz8FQ_mJNYFSV2IbjsNxjKZX1RtODIYCAa_sg/s500/DSC03526.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="500" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisTXVDY25SpdZmFOELqmePS5xH8leMDPirdtoWl6xw0dJxNLB1jK4M_VfhBuMvsxf0og6s7_0O48iLbnTbtgFg_WSDsvp_omr5ZiFYpwXdVtVQ4BSJBoFSq3BNXA2XoP-U_1JcMTPQWqQHT8qtEwUIZgBz8FQ_mJNYFSV2IbjsNxjKZX1RtODIYCAa_sg/w640-h429/DSC03526.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Asparagus... Dead or Alive?</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>Winter, and the world around me appears lifeless. </p><p>However, that is an illusion. Beneath the surface of the soil roots of perennial plants continue to pulse slowly in their winter's rhythm. They even grow a little. Bulbs and rhizomes of daffodils, crocus, iris and others unhurriedly prepare for their spring appearances. Leafless trees continue their lives within the soil, in their broad roots that reach deep and wide. Even high in the cold air, branches and twigs tentatively form buds that gradually swell.</p><p>While annual plants that grow, flower and set seed in a single season are truly dead, they still continue to live, in a fashion. They've scattered seeds -- tiny little plants wrapped in a coat that hide in the darkness of the soil, patiently waiting to sprout when conditions are right, Life.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2IqdQNoOgbie2jHotIm7GQMDS_f0Kc3KgEKSPX2TibJJw4kmTMn-BPTvIpv2-URYAflMXZnWb_z44O1vO5-wofXOR2xdrNoGqExsqxfccfpVewZ8RM9RdYfmohEuXKeA66Xv9KvDTlU93huxFHauupFBwz9eXxIJx42fujDnPneK-1psVZnJgZffS0k/s500/DSC03525.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="500" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2IqdQNoOgbie2jHotIm7GQMDS_f0Kc3KgEKSPX2TibJJw4kmTMn-BPTvIpv2-URYAflMXZnWb_z44O1vO5-wofXOR2xdrNoGqExsqxfccfpVewZ8RM9RdYfmohEuXKeA66Xv9KvDTlU93huxFHauupFBwz9eXxIJx42fujDnPneK-1psVZnJgZffS0k/w400-h268/DSC03525.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grass roots dig deep.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Death at winter is merely an illusion. Roots and seeds thrive.<p></p><p>I find it fascinating that for most plants, especially perennials, at least half of their mass remains unseen, in the roots beneath the surface of the soil, where they survive apparent death. These roots can connect with the roots of other plants, sometimes directly, more often through fungal mycelium that lives in symbiosis with them -- connection and communication.</p><p>I believe that humans are the same. Most of what we are exists beneath the surface, our roots, in the realm of spirit -- or whatever you wish to call it -- where we can connect. And even once we no longer exist in the material plain, we continue on in the unseen realm. Our roots remain.</p><p>Roots continue to pulse slowly, regardless of appearances... Spirits remain, regardless of appearances.</p><p>My family begins the new year looking a little different. My father died in early December, at 100 years and one week old. He took his last breath in the same house, and likely in the same room where he took his first breath. As a final poetic touch, it was also his mother's birthday.</p><p>Three of my four siblings, a niece, and a sister-in-law, my mother (of course), and I surrounded his bed. Because my parents always said the rosary before bed each night, Mom insisted that we pray the rosary while he still breathed. So we did. I have not practiced any type of Christianity, in decades, yet I held a rosary and prayed. It was an honor and privilege, a sacred act. Not long after we finished, Dad took his last breath. </p><p>A beautiful, holy moment.</p><p>My dad's roots ran deep. Mom was surprised at how many people showed up at the visitation the evening before the funeral. The women who served the post-funeral meal told her that they had never served that many people at a funeral dinner. So many connections. His roots had spread wide; he had scattered many seeds.</p><p>Deep roots helped my dad survive and persevere. The Great Depression hit during his adolescence. He later served in the Army during World War II, seeing fierce battle. His best friend was killed next to him. He was nearly executed before being taken to a German prisoner of war camp, where he survived until the end of the war.</p><p>He persevered. His roots ran deep.</p><p>Once a soldier, always a soldier, it seems. Even though he came home from war to become a farmer/rancher, to marry and raise five children, the war stayed with him in dreams that caused him to scream in the middle of the night. He finally found respite in his 80s by speaking about his experience to students in area middle and high schools, as well as during gatherings of an organization for those who were in service during the Battle of the Bulge.</p><p>Even though he had not been a soldier for 80 years, the local American Legion honored him for his birthday, presenting him with several plaques. They honored him again at his funeral, lining the sidewalk to the church with flags and veterans of other wars at attention. At the burial, the U.S. Army Funeral Honors Details gave a 21-gun salute, and the flag that had draped his coffin was ceremoniously folded and given to my mom.</p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfm_wak2jbgME3sADZmDaNBOiq-tWlCZTSeOTa6oWFUilha2tf1Ye-RF4NNQ1ApyYcdcj-rWk6hLwioJ8yWR8W5BlAiTYEa0SKPtXA9A4oGs_jlJaY_HStO4zSErPkdMR9uc7N1n0X86Ac_VYyOuvNPELOpP2nViVvvgfXyBHlFzdH8uy0PPVUD8vqf94/s500/tracks.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="391" data-original-width="500" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfm_wak2jbgME3sADZmDaNBOiq-tWlCZTSeOTa6oWFUilha2tf1Ye-RF4NNQ1ApyYcdcj-rWk6hLwioJ8yWR8W5BlAiTYEa0SKPtXA9A4oGs_jlJaY_HStO4zSErPkdMR9uc7N1n0X86Ac_VYyOuvNPELOpP2nViVvvgfXyBHlFzdH8uy0PPVUD8vqf94/w400-h313/tracks.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We leave our tracks through life.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />When he had his stroke at the end of October, my only prayer was that he live lucidly until his 100th birthday. That prayer was answered. <p></p><p>Once I notified my husband that Dad had breathed his last, he lit a candle by a photo of Dad. We kept a candle lit, day and night, for more than two weeks. When the last candle died, I felt sad. So I lit another candle for a short time. I needed one more farewell. </p><p>I still feel his presence. His roots ran/run deep. I am like him in many ways, and keep digging my roots deeper. I hope that his spirit within me will inspire the strength to persevere through whatever difficulties come. I have been awed at the way his grandchildren, even my own son, viewed my dad as their hero. His legacy lives on within them, seeds sprouting. </p><p>In a way, I do not feel that my father has died. It seems I have come to know him better in death than I ever did in life, by seeing him through the eyes of others. He continues on, unseen, but not unfelt.</p><p>Like the browned and crisped leaves of the purple coneflowers outside my back door, his roots and seeds survive; his death only an illusion.</p><p><br /></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-69229399545361410242023-12-24T11:06:00.000-06:002023-12-24T11:06:01.872-06:00Final Harvest... Almost<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLLHEhyiCc-23hwiOAURgsXQ-Z-gT9x6PMhXGVSNFykrQJWYYXy1RqWYcXK-MocpPbm7nKoUva6NRSSPZIrlFp3ga88ewUtKOiyGwx-0u6Z4DitDd0C-ZEEe6bLkN6HUrcQbMM3O5tdTSVz3JgJjWUyfkrYlDptwfzofKaVPjGPPGqpNlVF4M3_FPPfA/s500/DSC03519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLLHEhyiCc-23hwiOAURgsXQ-Z-gT9x6PMhXGVSNFykrQJWYYXy1RqWYcXK-MocpPbm7nKoUva6NRSSPZIrlFp3ga88ewUtKOiyGwx-0u6Z4DitDd0C-ZEEe6bLkN6HUrcQbMM3O5tdTSVz3JgJjWUyfkrYlDptwfzofKaVPjGPPGqpNlVF4M3_FPPfA/w640-h480/DSC03519.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Here it is, the last lettuce harvest of the year, cut yesterday afternoon. Plus some arugula, a little dill, and a few stalks of celery.</p><p>It was a good run. I planted the lettuce in early September, making two plantings a week or two apart. The bed was draped with row cover and shade cloth to protect it from critters and intense sun. It was still really warm in September. Soaker hoses laid along the rows made it easy to keep the little plantings hydrated through the dry fall.</p><p>The lettuce seemed to take off much more slowly than I anticipated. However, once it started to reach harvestable size it kept us in lettuce, pretty much. As production dwindle, we supplemented with a little lettuce from the store. This last harvest will keep us in lettuce for a couple of weeks, since we recently bought some because we're take a huge salad to share with family tonight.</p><p>While this is the last harvest of lettuce, I still have more stuff to pull from the garden.</p><p>Yesterday, I dug horseradish, pulling out muddy roots. I soaked off most of the mud in a bucket filled with water, but they still need to be scrubbed. We still have a jar of horseradish sauce made from last year's roots, so I won't need to processed them quickly. Once they're scrubbed and trimmed, they'll keep well in a bag in the refrigerator. </p><p>My sauce recipe: peel and cut up the roots. Put them in the blender with a little water and some cider vinegar. I use two to three tablespoons of vinegar per cup of puree, and just estimate how much vinegar I will use. I don't add the whole amount at first, but add the rest when I can see how much it will make. I do this because my husband doesn't like watery sauce, so I don't add so much water this way. You do need the liquid to get it to blend, though. I always put the blender near our range and turn on the exhaust. fumes from the horseradish are pretty potent. Don't put your face directly over the blender when you open it.</p><p>Yesterday I also pulled more purple daikons. These are my favorite radishes. I planted a lot. Maybe too many. We'll see. About one third of them, maybe less, remains in the ground. I will protect them from the coming deep lows -- in the upper teens Fahrenheit -- with heavy blankets. There are just too many to store in the space we have. When the root cellar reaches an acceptable temperature, they can go in there with the sweet potatoes. I read that you can keep them in a root cellar if you wrapped them individually in newspaper, as you do with sweet potatoes. I hope that works. The purple daikons are the fall vegetable I most look forward to.</p><p>Thank you for reading my blog. Have great holidays, however you celebrate.</p><p>Blessings.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-91265023495014151412023-12-23T20:15:00.004-06:002023-12-23T20:15:54.051-06:00Through the Mist<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGSFpoQKYE9q9JoIcMMvzmzCNDk9WZwTd3OXjekIcg0IBZuo1iYWpw0HwSpV62evGs152aQ0m87JM5WR5miogHnpWDnr-LLA8LwaqWxvqJYq_aZ__nSO2h5HR9I6LOPHBwGhggJbCmUR8XVFo_SH2T-BOZj4zeTrPHu_yhb2H0arXrIklo7CBjsbUNjo/s500/foggy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGSFpoQKYE9q9JoIcMMvzmzCNDk9WZwTd3OXjekIcg0IBZuo1iYWpw0HwSpV62evGs152aQ0m87JM5WR5miogHnpWDnr-LLA8LwaqWxvqJYq_aZ__nSO2h5HR9I6LOPHBwGhggJbCmUR8XVFo_SH2T-BOZj4zeTrPHu_yhb2H0arXrIklo7CBjsbUNjo/w640-h480/foggy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I love morning fog.</p><p>Everything shrouded in mist seems extra magical, because you can't quite see clearly. The world seems more quiet.</p><p>Are we waiting for something?</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1hP1CvjrRlthf4JR2F5BYI38nngmgIXdyIBGT_g9LNzgD65jSuOqNDdvcfscfT9rT_BBpuFkhCMQyOq6Stcd-EHWjmocpic7x5_Wb_Ee5PPeuX-0hb4rdiNtnMyqx2ZKUDUThJjlAQexu5B6eVRbrI7JPmQgWtI_A-5CfceOrU5hbvrp6eBp_zFkWTU/s500/juniper%20berries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="375" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1hP1CvjrRlthf4JR2F5BYI38nngmgIXdyIBGT_g9LNzgD65jSuOqNDdvcfscfT9rT_BBpuFkhCMQyOq6Stcd-EHWjmocpic7x5_Wb_Ee5PPeuX-0hb4rdiNtnMyqx2ZKUDUThJjlAQexu5B6eVRbrI7JPmQgWtI_A-5CfceOrU5hbvrp6eBp_zFkWTU/w480-h640/juniper%20berries.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />As is my habit, I took my morning coffee outside, so I could feel the fresh air on my face, and get a feel for what's going on in the land.<p></p><p>Robins were fluttering around in the large eastern red cedar next to our house. They like to feast on the juniper berries. </p><p>I went to the tree to see what the birds were up to, and saw one robin perfectly framed by branches, a dark silhouette against the gray beyond. A perfect picture.</p><p>But I don't carry my camera with me. By the time I went inside and got it, the opportunity was gone. None of the other birds were cooperative subjects. Every time I moved to get a better look, the birds would flutter away.</p><p>A missed opportunity. </p><p>Oh, well. Here's a shot of fog droplets hanging from the cedar's leaves. If you zoom in to a droplet, you can see the world upside down. </p><p>Different perspectives are good to have.</p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-1293141175644234052023-12-22T16:46:00.005-06:002023-12-22T16:46:40.921-06:00Love the Earth<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnRQR5IpkPXv2MrvfTOGiBl1c06l5HVFa_qYhEXPFab4LMG-iJAQuA1h4uEtp0pIC4pEy-GxcwxfmzBrNc8qZ5dvxj-F1-cy5aKf3myJDeQCSSJP6QAso0xyh5LkIMELXxYP8f8bAybjp0yqmQKhNFN7ebA_gso_PNLOuUB99zo1mNHQc2nWKDe33BpQM/s500/DSC03189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="500" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnRQR5IpkPXv2MrvfTOGiBl1c06l5HVFa_qYhEXPFab4LMG-iJAQuA1h4uEtp0pIC4pEy-GxcwxfmzBrNc8qZ5dvxj-F1-cy5aKf3myJDeQCSSJP6QAso0xyh5LkIMELXxYP8f8bAybjp0yqmQKhNFN7ebA_gso_PNLOuUB99zo1mNHQc2nWKDe33BpQM/w640-h474/DSC03189.JPG" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-indent: 12.95pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Kneel
upon the Earth.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">
Touch the Earth with a bare hand. Take off your shoes and dig your toes into
warm soil or cool grass.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Lie face down, spread eagle upon the
ground, with your heart area in contact with the Earth as much as possible. Hug
the Earth. Open your heart to her energy. Relax fully onto, into the Earth.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Feel her embrace you in return.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Feel her with your Heart; with every
molecule in your body make a connection.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She supports you, nourishes you.</span></div><div style="text-indent: 12.95pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Say, “Thank you.”<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Feel, “Thank you.”</span></div><div style="text-indent: 12.95pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Let the gratitude for her gifts fill you,
lift you. Let gratitude flow from you into the Earth.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Speak to the Earth as your dear Mother.
See the Earth in Her fullness.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Let your love for her fill you, lift you.
Let love flow from you into the Earth, spreading outward, touching all her
Children.</span></div><div style="text-indent: 12.95pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Caress the Earth. Love her. Embrace her
and feel her holding you fast.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Thank you, Mother.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now hug a tree.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Thank you.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dig your bare toes into sun-warmed soil.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Thank you.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Walk barefoot through the garden.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Thank you.</span></div><div style="text-indent: 12.95pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Let every step you take be a prayer to the
Earth that holds you.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Pick up some soil and feel it, smell it.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Rub a soft lamb’s ear leaf against your
cheek.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Or stick your face into the soft, ferny
foliage of a silver mound artemisia, inhaling its sharp, yet earthy fragrance.</span></div><div style="text-indent: 12.95pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 12.95pt;">Touch the Earth.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And she will touch you.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Love her and she will love you.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Every step I take, a prayer.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Every step I take, a prayer of gratitude.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Every step I take, every act, a gesture of
love. A gesture of Love.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Open all of your senses to the mysteries
and the magic around you. Feel the Earth’s heartbeat in the soles of your feet,
vibrating upward and through you.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Feel the magical, the spiritual energy
flowing from and through the Earth, through you.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Open your eyes to the beauty and mystery
of the Earth.</span></div><div style="text-indent: 12.95pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-indent: 12.95pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Listen to the Earth.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She speaks to you with the vastness of a
mountain valley and the tiny voice of a ladybug wandering among the leaves. It
is all magical, however ordinary.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Every step, a prayer.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Every step, gratitude.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Earth is my Mother,<br /> </span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I shall not want.</span></i></div>
<br /><p></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-61911726950241219562023-12-21T15:25:00.000-06:002023-12-21T15:25:02.637-06:00Solstice Greetings<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBpiKJVMeeEj4BoDc1ZrVOTu3WOqRDbse4-q2yHFYuso0UOrnmzLi1lTkGvmKqh-gO-ZHG00l172j9rloHRkGsfCupH0Uj8dOnm5MSgT5o1bfceY72EWKB5NCdHiA2iljQQHkcnvp-aPII6sDeYQrzeY86PbcIKUMWYe8O8b0AH1esJBvh-m_iSG060WU/s500/G%20Lighting%20Solstice%20Candle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="375" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBpiKJVMeeEj4BoDc1ZrVOTu3WOqRDbse4-q2yHFYuso0UOrnmzLi1lTkGvmKqh-gO-ZHG00l172j9rloHRkGsfCupH0Uj8dOnm5MSgT5o1bfceY72EWKB5NCdHiA2iljQQHkcnvp-aPII6sDeYQrzeY86PbcIKUMWYe8O8b0AH1esJBvh-m_iSG060WU/w480-h640/G%20Lighting%20Solstice%20Candle.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /> Lighting the Solstice candle at sunset.<p></p><p>May we all make it safely through the longest night </p><p>And find Joy, Peace and Abundance in the coming Light.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-81676186463298005902023-11-30T15:57:00.001-06:002023-11-30T15:57:38.394-06:00Snow Magic<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1V8-TACA3ljLkXs5OQ6yJI7MVnaZUnEEuAg48LWlIXXdvFlcXZOP5fyI9aQey9YUcn26AfV-z9yn0uuIEW0b-j78KPuiKuyl_HOT9KLo8fQy22_TI0b77ZC-IIVK-b3e0jokkF6PEA_dhztFv_gLdVw6bh13_LFES0xrRGJ_k6ZfOEw7GRvK_1ts_uUg/s500/DSC03476.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="500" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1V8-TACA3ljLkXs5OQ6yJI7MVnaZUnEEuAg48LWlIXXdvFlcXZOP5fyI9aQey9YUcn26AfV-z9yn0uuIEW0b-j78KPuiKuyl_HOT9KLo8fQy22_TI0b77ZC-IIVK-b3e0jokkF6PEA_dhztFv_gLdVw6bh13_LFES0xrRGJ_k6ZfOEw7GRvK_1ts_uUg/w640-h428/DSC03476.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Snow hushes an already quiet world.</span></p><p>The scene Sunday morning before sunrise. Six to eight inches of fluffy flakes on the ground and piled on the branches of evergreen trees. The world changed completely overnight.</p><p>That evening I did my after-dinner walk in a magical world lit by the Full Moon. Because I didn't go out until about 8:30, the moon rode high. Everything was bright. Several times I paused in my walk just to look at the Moon and sing to her.</p><p>Always take a walk in the snow when the Moon is full.</p><p>Always take advantage of every possibility to experience magic.</p><p><br /></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-48811738083306757532023-11-23T16:43:00.004-06:002023-11-23T18:21:04.039-06:00Feast of Gratitude<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnDx9c4CxL9LzvoP2aE3aWdfvO8_oyaoQ7kFlf4G53MZozwTSlrtiV8IPp4k-lvgA_gid8Ta7U3zHEuwfTJ8J211_Ab2KPNjc6sB7DbJ1o3YiYXYWiq-D41aeCCJBzjDWF8vkPNxuB-jZG8PavCcbaJ0qnWyxfTFcn-DN3GU2dHhUXapiMjqbHRIFSVYw/s500/DSC03459.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="500" height="580" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnDx9c4CxL9LzvoP2aE3aWdfvO8_oyaoQ7kFlf4G53MZozwTSlrtiV8IPp4k-lvgA_gid8Ta7U3zHEuwfTJ8J211_Ab2KPNjc6sB7DbJ1o3YiYXYWiq-D41aeCCJBzjDWF8vkPNxuB-jZG8PavCcbaJ0qnWyxfTFcn-DN3GU2dHhUXapiMjqbHRIFSVYw/w640-h580/DSC03459.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /> The morning sunlight set the blossoms of my Thanksgiving cactus on fire, brightening our morning meditation.<p></p><p>Since our family gatherings will take place on different days than this, we set about creating a day of grateful ease for ourselves. I made a special feast for a late lunch. One of the stars of the meal -- of course, every part of it shines, but -- was roasted radishes.</p><p>One of my favorite reasons for planting a fall/winter garden is the winter radish. Winter radishes are larger and denser than the little spring radishes, and I can get a lot of pounds in a relatively small space.</p><p>Here you see slices of Szechuan Red (which are supposed to be red all through, but some are white with red skin), purple daikon (my favorite), Watermelon radish, and the green Shawo Fruit Radish (which is not sweet, but rather spicy. Lovely roasted or baked.)</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfyDUJBY2NahZzYzLusf5WpDzYvaKKQqyF5kIpqbPUv1uXBzuFsGBrs9n0dESIecZQ5arxnYLvrPv7axbR2__xWOEIGip3mt0wpWKGkyluf2mAuz408KowDtXyvInm1uZcPUmJ1P4u7tdfWWiA2mU6XDTX5Ir1RIUsSJJv1tLqDeUXgzLE5WtlgN-Png/s500/DSC03470.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="389" data-original-width="500" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfyDUJBY2NahZzYzLusf5WpDzYvaKKQqyF5kIpqbPUv1uXBzuFsGBrs9n0dESIecZQ5arxnYLvrPv7axbR2__xWOEIGip3mt0wpWKGkyluf2mAuz408KowDtXyvInm1uZcPUmJ1P4u7tdfWWiA2mU6XDTX5Ir1RIUsSJJv1tLqDeUXgzLE5WtlgN-Png/w400-h311/DSC03470.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />I toss the radish slices with avocado oil (which has a higher smoke point and so does not produce toxic substances as quickly as other oils when heated); lay them in a single layer on a parchment lined cookie sheet; season with salt and pepper and other seasonings as desired; and bake at 400 degrees Fahrenheit for 30 minutes, or until at desired doneness.<p></p><p>And easy and delightful dish.</p><p>Along with the radishes, we had brussels sprouts roasted with apples and onions, and roasted carrots. Both had been cooked weeks ago and frozen. So it was easy just to put them in the oven to warm. Baked shrimp rounded it out as the protein portion.</p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeD9l2pWqXZeQ3i189mPaD2RLWRnbaeJYLQsunwl90guEssuX8rSlsHsS5yIuHX_Vkf7GzLU5VFwOXlDf7pL25UcYwekIy9OUlqj9bghWReEBuSMhtL0e8me4KMxX4BZz_JrTb67LEYxrcz4lUG6FQ6PjTt2y0q010IbOxltrs1bAOIGkD_BZV2gxkMTE/s500/DSC03472.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="500" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeD9l2pWqXZeQ3i189mPaD2RLWRnbaeJYLQsunwl90guEssuX8rSlsHsS5yIuHX_Vkf7GzLU5VFwOXlDf7pL25UcYwekIy9OUlqj9bghWReEBuSMhtL0e8me4KMxX4BZz_JrTb67LEYxrcz4lUG6FQ6PjTt2y0q010IbOxltrs1bAOIGkD_BZV2gxkMTE/w400-h268/DSC03472.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's not traditional turkey, but we like shrimp for special meals.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />As a nod to "traditional" Thanksgiving fare, my husband made a "pumpkin" pie, no added sweetener, no egg, no dairy, and a gluten-free crust. It is killer, proof you don't need to add sugar to get a wonderful dessert. He used baked sweet potato, coconut milk, flax seed and tapioca flour. It stands up beautifully. The crust is made with tiger nut flour -- expensive, but he can't eat nuts, so almond flour is out.<p></p><p>Tonight we'll have nettles and button mushrooms, along with some chicken thighs, and more dessert. This time a blueberry cobbler, again, with no sugar and a gluten-free crust. Yes, it's good. Oh, and a little Rogue River Bleu cheese, one of the best cheeses in the world -- seriously.</p><p>I took a break from my keto diet today in order to enjoy some treats. When I started that diet, I did not mourn desserts, or wine, or any of those typical things. I wasn't consuming them much, anyway. For me, not being able to eat vegetables with abandon was the most difficult part of it. Even though I'm eating low-carb, non-starchy vegetables, those carb grams add up quickly. I've done some tweaks to allow for a little more satisfying amounts of vegetables. However, I am not eating nearly as large of quantities as I was, and I have to weigh and record it all. It's getting easier. One day I'll write a bit about it.</p><p>Today, I'm grateful that I have nutritious and delicious food to eat. May that be so for everyone.</p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-88353208774601891452023-11-22T11:52:00.000-06:002023-11-22T11:52:17.699-06:00Waiting...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ZDDuXbI2Bmoa0c8HWj9M8_dcLwci55B6Wi0RauU0ks6W1ZNr5V9cIOb_OipWwx-yYN0HegluFu7lc0zVhvrwL0cac0ibxXcfEN9fVnO2DPoQcR-gwMRJbSb16gmmNf2iCRk9b7ml5877_MX5Hc53Vc9Oa4Ompx_tW2A9y0iI_gT1nsb0srZAvdczeoo/s500/DSC03454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="364" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ZDDuXbI2Bmoa0c8HWj9M8_dcLwci55B6Wi0RauU0ks6W1ZNr5V9cIOb_OipWwx-yYN0HegluFu7lc0zVhvrwL0cac0ibxXcfEN9fVnO2DPoQcR-gwMRJbSb16gmmNf2iCRk9b7ml5877_MX5Hc53Vc9Oa4Ompx_tW2A9y0iI_gT1nsb0srZAvdczeoo/w466-h640/DSC03454.JPG" width="466" /></a></div><br />This happened yesterday.<p></p><p>I finally put up some bird feeders. </p><p>I know. Most of you have had your feeders up for weeks, or months, maybe you never take them down.</p><p>But... things and stuff. I was going to do it last week, but then... COVID. So I put them up yesterday. Usually we have another shepherds hook with feeders on it, but it broke. My husband being who he is, immediately went online to go shopping for something else on which to hang bird feeders. They, and another feeder are supposed to arrive on Friday. We have our winter's supply of bird feed -- sunflower chips, a wild bird food blend, suet cakes, and these round seed cakes that go in a round holder.</p><p>Now we wait. Wait for the birds. I saw two goldfinches at one of the feeders yesterday, but since then, not one.</p><p>The past couple of years we didn't get as many birds as we used to. That is worrisome. Birds disappearing is not a good sign. Putting out bird feeders is helpful, but it's not going to save them.</p><p>To save the birds, we must stop trying to eliminate insects. It's come to the point where I'm glad to see insects buzzing around. (Not squash bugs, though. They don't seem to be nearing extinction. Still, I'll try to only take out the ones that are on my squash and cucumbers.)</p><p>It will take more than that. But I think we all know what we need to do.</p><p>The bird feeders are a beginning, though. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-51577457297821306222023-11-20T22:22:00.000-06:002023-11-20T22:22:05.930-06:00Bittersweet Days<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAkFa-NZBs1u1_qz12TqHUOAhn0g-2WM1yJOJpfvo15WTgOdwzQamzl4zJjvhBW9NzTVKY4olUFMQqIKRXG-qZ-4oXX8Jw20u5i2NCJZKUsKkrbE4PWCi6LadwiCJk8fATTIIafQ8OX9eYUZF-qoLk18zPauQo8QCgahkRvxF-EPd_jcJ-NBcvS65hMM/s500/DSC03449.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="500" height="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAkFa-NZBs1u1_qz12TqHUOAhn0g-2WM1yJOJpfvo15WTgOdwzQamzl4zJjvhBW9NzTVKY4olUFMQqIKRXG-qZ-4oXX8Jw20u5i2NCJZKUsKkrbE4PWCi6LadwiCJk8fATTIIafQ8OX9eYUZF-qoLk18zPauQo8QCgahkRvxF-EPd_jcJ-NBcvS65hMM/w640-h546/DSC03449.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bittersweet</td></tr></tbody></table>More Sweet than bitter, though.<div>Yesterday morning I rose late. It was Sunday, after all. </div><div>I grabbed my coffee, as usual, sat on the front porch and watched the gray skies brighten as the sun rose higher behind the.</div><div>"I am so blessed," I thought.</div><div>I had just spent most of the week, probably the last really warm week of the year, glued to the couch, with a fever and scratchy throat. COVID had knocked me down.</div><div>Less than a month ago I significantly changed my diet -- giving up some tasty foods, possibly for good -- in order to heal some health issues. </div><div>The weather had been dry, along with being unusually warm, so I worry a bit about the trees and perennials in the garden.</div><div>My father is in the hospital after having a stroke.</div><div>But there I was, feeling grateful for my life.</div><div>Life is sweet, because when the night is over, the sun rises. Clouds may cover it, but yesterday it meant rain was coming, finally.</div><div>My recovery has been rapid and yesterday I finally stopped blowing my nose every five minutes. My energy was rebounding. (Today, I'm even better.) The diet is getting easier, and I've seen promising results.</div><div>My father slowly improves with therapy and my mother's constant presence. We're assured that he will see his 100th birthday on Tuesday next week.</div><div>However, even if it hadn't rained, or my illness had lingered longer, life is still sweet. My dad will never get back to where he was before the stroke. And the diet remains challenging.</div><div>Yet, I am grateful. </div><div>Gratitude.</div><div>It's not just something we dust off and put on the mantel for Thanksgiving, it's something that's best worn every single day. Even when the day is rough, a little gratitude smooths the waves a bit.</div><div>Every morning I grab my mug of coffee (Thank you), I walk out the front door of my cozy home (Thank you), I sit on my front porch and look out toward the sunrise (Thank you) and say, "Thank you for this new day and whatever it brings."</div><div>Gratitude doesn't make life easy. It does, however, sweeten things.</div><div><br /></div><div>Some of you reading this may feel that life is far more bitter than sweet. I hope that you can learn to see whatever sweetness there is. Even if it does not, at the moment, outweigh the bitter, I'm sure it is there. Keep your eye on it, let it draw you toward it, the way this bittersweet vine in the redcedar tree drew me to admire it. Let it's seeds sprout and bring more sweetness into your life. That is my prayer, my wish for you.</div><div><br /></div><div>(NOTE: The photo above is of American bittersweet, <i>Celastrus scandens, </i>a native vine, not to be confused with the invasive and destructive Oriental bittersweet, which can strangle trees.) </div>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-87004496079466208002023-11-07T11:06:00.000-06:002023-11-07T11:06:42.541-06:00Cycles<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRspRs_DNTkmGXTCbRNaVdpjhE-mg_qTHiQ0rBWFiydRlqzoSSDmkEBABVL8S8fM9IZ12tUc3thxYQJ-RFc0lVuRzL4MGYvMeH7NiyzcYCEQU7gR5zKP4j0J_iVr49mYj6NkNLoHHmfnw-s_MM_xbKTe3dYRNA1DiFnjYOzV_ri2OtC319j2F5X3FCag/s500/fungi%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="375" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRspRs_DNTkmGXTCbRNaVdpjhE-mg_qTHiQ0rBWFiydRlqzoSSDmkEBABVL8S8fM9IZ12tUc3thxYQJ-RFc0lVuRzL4MGYvMeH7NiyzcYCEQU7gR5zKP4j0J_iVr49mYj6NkNLoHHmfnw-s_MM_xbKTe3dYRNA1DiFnjYOzV_ri2OtC319j2F5X3FCag/w480-h640/fungi%203.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">From Death, Life.</span></p><p>Yesterday, while at a neighbor's place searching for stones fallen from a rock wall, I came across this dead tree covered with these little shelf fungi. How beautiful.</p><p>It's a reminder that when anything ends it becomes food for something new. The dead tree feeds the mushrooms. When it all is broken down, both tree and fungi will feed other living beings.</p><p>What beauty. Nothing goes to waste. All cycles and recycles.</p><p>That's Life and Death.</p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-84273006196406853402023-11-01T21:24:00.000-05:002023-11-01T21:24:43.100-05:00Moving On<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3S4bMtwUucJCXoVaLeFjTDZMg2PzRiFrO47TljpIDkLzvcJyguAMap4Ey6MTLmwtK2tcmK6tk0eiTHRXqDDxa-HPVI8DeIvwR466nnPXniqhAm0Pk7gdf0BsUfo9v9XW0KV6aR3MKYEBMdxdGvn-RHkegGtS3XxdmMEpMZmMmXr7G2iP2w2dxrBcXAAk/s500/DSC03421.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="500" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3S4bMtwUucJCXoVaLeFjTDZMg2PzRiFrO47TljpIDkLzvcJyguAMap4Ey6MTLmwtK2tcmK6tk0eiTHRXqDDxa-HPVI8DeIvwR466nnPXniqhAm0Pk7gdf0BsUfo9v9XW0KV6aR3MKYEBMdxdGvn-RHkegGtS3XxdmMEpMZmMmXr7G2iP2w2dxrBcXAAk/w640-h428/DSC03421.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>This photo was taken more than a week ago, after the first rain we had in more than a month of drought and heat. Rain fell over three days and we netted a blessed 2.5 inches (6.35 cm). When the rain ceased, I spent three days preparing the garden for freezing weather to arrive on the weekend. </p><p>It wasn't going to just fall to 32 degrees F. (0 degrees Celsius) or a little lower. Oh, no. Almost all of the cool season vegetables would survive that without protection. The forecast called for it to drop to 25 degrees (about minus 4 Celsius), and continue going down for a few days.</p><p>So I spent Thursday, Friday and Saturday picking summer vegetables and covering the cool season ones, hoping to protect them enough that they would survive the warmer weather on the other side. (It won't even freeze tonight.) I picked a lot of lettuce -- there was finally enough to sustain us! It was so beautiful! I then covered it with several layers, hoping beyond hope it would survive the forecast 20 degrees (minus 6.7 Celsius), which turned out to be 18 degrees (almost minus 8 Celsius). I haven't yet uncovered the lettuce. I have a feeling it won't be pretty.</p><p>I picked all of the eggplant and peppers that had started to turn color on Friday, planning to pick tomatoes and the still green peppers on Saturday. The low Saturday morning was supposed to be above freezing. Surprise! The temperature was just enough below freezing to kill them off. Oh well, less work for me. I spent two days harvesting cabbage and greens (kale and collards), while my husband cooked them to put in the freezer. Some of the cabbage was later used in making soup and sauerkraut. Some are left to turn into other delicious dishes.</p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM62kBtyhwLd3ULdt2LH-miDcRP3QGlNR0FYmOm255aHH5lBBSIJQDRB_G1ExxOn3QS4Ql9chf9_acFbKQyiuRrQNNhz0WhUORBMVa1pVB65tJK29X1eFa2y13btdHZXSVzs-hQWHSJt7DssnXJifbH_6R3eXty2yRZi2ZHMBqARUZUwGjhkdHXb5DrUA/s500/DSC03395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="500" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM62kBtyhwLd3ULdt2LH-miDcRP3QGlNR0FYmOm255aHH5lBBSIJQDRB_G1ExxOn3QS4Ql9chf9_acFbKQyiuRrQNNhz0WhUORBMVa1pVB65tJK29X1eFa2y13btdHZXSVzs-hQWHSJt7DssnXJifbH_6R3eXty2yRZi2ZHMBqARUZUwGjhkdHXb5DrUA/w400-h350/DSC03395.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The purple daikon radishes before I covered them against<br />the coming bitter weather. </td></tr></tbody></table><br />I covered the purple daikons with heavy blankets and plastic (so the blankets wouldn't get wet in rain and snow that was forecast, but failed to arrive).</p><p>Sunday morning brought 24 degrees, and Tuesday brought the 18. The gardens pretty much melted. </p><p>I kind of enjoyed the look of disaster in the garden. The reminder of cycles. I was in no hurry to clean things up. </p><p>However, yesterday afternoon (Tuesday) and today my husband went out with the wheelbarrow and tools to clean it up. He can't stand the look of decay. He sawed down the okra plants, some of which looked like small trees, and pulled the peppers and eggplants; chopped down the kale and collards, and cleaned away the remnants of cabbages that I'd left in the garden. He cut down the melted kale and collards, took down the long beans and their trellises, and remove the loofa and malabar vines from the trellises. Wow!!!</p><p>The garden is tidy now. Only three tomato plants stand. </p><p>The next week or so will be much warmer. No freezing in sight.</p><p>And such is the way of things. We have always had warmer weather after our first freezing night, but "normal" was not with lows of 20 or lower. However, we cannot rely on the old normal. Our new "normal" seems to be unpredictable, too cold too early, warmth coming too soon... then leaving. Drought and deluge.</p><p>Climate change isn't coming, it has arrived.</p><p>But we keep going on. </p><p>We move on after the freeze... try to figure out how to raise a garden in a new normal that might not settle in to a normal for a while. </p><p>I move on to the next thing. </p><p>Keep moving.</p><p>This year I have moved on from a decades long practice.</p><p>About 30 years ago I started writing a little gardening column for the newspaper I worked for. It began as a little box in the corner of a page, where I put in gardening information from the Extension -- what to plant now, what other gardening tasks might need done, and so on. Somehow it became more about what I was doing in the garden and evolved into a personal -- sometimes profoundly personal -- column about gardening, more or less. I continued writing it even after I left the newspaper and moved to the next county over, where I offered it to the local newspaper. For the past 15 years, it has been published in two newspapers, then.</p><p>And now it is done. </p><p>A couple of months ago, I decided it was time to close that chapter. The column had become a burden, rather than a joy. I listened to a podcast in which they discussed "what do you want to give your energy to?" I decided I no longer wanted to put my energy into that column.</p><p>A little more than a week ago I wrote the last one, the finale. I feel a weight lifting, an expansion of my being.</p><p>I started doing this blog to supplement the column, because I often had more information than I could fit into the word limit. I could put the extra info in here, for my readers to follow. It never quite worked that way, though, and the blog became its own thing. </p><p>I hope to put the energy that went into my column into this blog now -- part of it, at least.</p><p>And I feel that something else is on the horizon.</p><p>I keep moving on.</p><p>Because standing still isn't an option... not if you want to keep living.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504094259586265708.post-81230550440872224282023-10-22T21:11:00.000-05:002023-10-22T21:11:27.536-05:00Waiting...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT4_HHNclarBxoEcjkl5QDEb42Vd7yiDQg02EA2CDOPOZAOaC5hQVIqeDKUYQZOnyAZewmA0_1VW1R9Qw_1IXaJ65wx6qaskcmbyUS6A-AEyufLlN8xI8a_pIDJKedqFsnb9Hl1jns9sz6XXtY32uFoPzCYGeUqJA10T1MrrGQEsNE7atCyaItxiLNelg/s500/DSC03408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="421" data-original-width="500" height="538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT4_HHNclarBxoEcjkl5QDEb42Vd7yiDQg02EA2CDOPOZAOaC5hQVIqeDKUYQZOnyAZewmA0_1VW1R9Qw_1IXaJ65wx6qaskcmbyUS6A-AEyufLlN8xI8a_pIDJKedqFsnb9Hl1jns9sz6XXtY32uFoPzCYGeUqJA10T1MrrGQEsNE7atCyaItxiLNelg/w640-h538/DSC03408.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />The Souvenir de la Malmaison rose by my front door still blooms in late October.<p></p><p>The rose has looked more lush and beautiful than it ever has. Typically, at some point its leaves show signs of black spot, a fungal disease that affects the foliage. This causes my husband to keep pruning and trimming.</p><p>This year was very dry and warm. Not the kind of weather conducive to the development of black spot. So there was some benefit in the heat and drought. We, of course, watered the rose regularly with our dishwater, an easy task because the rose is near the front door, which is next to the kitchen.</p><p>While Josephine's souvenir from la Malmaison gardens blooms, we are in a season of transition. The summer rose blooms as the geese fly to their winter home. I pick tomatoes and okra, while the winter radishes swell underground. All is in flux. As always. </p><p>And tonight I sent off the last gardening column in 30 years of writing it, first for one small town newspaper, and then two. It might not seem like much from the outside, but it consumed a lot of head space and time for me. It's been a good run, but it's time to end. </p><p>And now it has. </p><p>I will turn that energy to this blog, and other things. </p><p>We'll see what happens now. </p><p>In transition. </p>Sandra M. Sieberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10972700171020478710noreply@blogger.com0