Snow Magic

 

Snow hushes an already quiet world.

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.

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.

Always take a walk in the snow when the Moon is full.

Always take advantage of every possibility to experience magic.

Feast of Gratitude

 The morning sunlight set the blossoms of my Thanksgiving cactus on fire, brightening our morning meditation.

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.

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.

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.)

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.

And easy and delightful dish.

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.

It's not traditional turkey, but we like shrimp for special meals.

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.

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.

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.

Today, I'm grateful that I have nutritious and delicious food to eat. May that be so for everyone.

 

Waiting...

 

This happened yesterday.

I finally put up some bird feeders. 

I know. Most of you have had your feeders up for weeks, or months, maybe you never take them down.

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.

Now we wait. Wait for the birds. I saw two goldfinches at one of the feeders yesterday, but since then, not one.

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.

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.)

It will take more than that. But I think we all know what we need to do.

The bird feeders are a beginning, though. 

Bittersweet Days

 

Bittersweet

More Sweet than bitter, though.

Yesterday morning I rose late. It was Sunday, after all. 

I grabbed my coffee, as usual, sat on the front porch and watched the gray skies brighten as the sun rose higher behind the.

"I am so blessed," I thought.

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.

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. 

The weather had been dry, along with being unusually warm, so I worry a bit about the trees and perennials in the garden.

My father is in the hospital after having a stroke.

But there I was, feeling grateful for my life.

Life is sweet, because when the night is over, the sun rises. Clouds may cover it, but yesterday it meant rain was coming, finally.

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.

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.

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.

Yet, I am grateful. 

Gratitude.

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.

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."

Gratitude doesn't make life easy. It does, however, sweeten things.

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.

(NOTE: The photo above is of American bittersweet, Celastrus scandens, a native vine, not to be confused with the invasive and destructive Oriental bittersweet, which can strangle trees.) 

Cycles

 

From Death, Life.

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.

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.

What beauty. Nothing goes to waste. All cycles and recycles.

That's Life and Death.

Moving On

 

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. 

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.

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.

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.

The purple daikon radishes before I covered them against
the coming bitter weather. 

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).

Sunday morning brought 24 degrees, and Tuesday brought the 18. The gardens pretty much melted. 

I kind of enjoyed the look of disaster in the garden. The reminder of cycles. I was in no hurry to clean things up. 

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!!!

The garden is tidy now. Only three tomato plants stand. 

The next week or so will be much warmer. No freezing in sight.

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.

Climate change isn't coming, it has arrived.

But we keep going on. 

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. 

I move on to the next thing. 

Keep moving.

This year I have moved on from a decades long practice.

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.

And now it is done. 

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.

A little more than a week ago I wrote the last one, the finale. I feel a weight lifting, an expansion of my being.

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. 

I hope to put the energy that went into my column into this blog now -- part of it, at least.

And I feel that something else is on the horizon.

I keep moving on.

Because standing still isn't an option... not if you want to keep living.