Colors

 

This evening's harvest: Purple Passion Asparagus and Cilantro, with a side of spearmint.

I love how the green of the cilantro highlights the color of the asparagus. The orange handles of my herb snipper really pops out, as well.

Color in the garden doesn't just arrive in blossoms. Vegetables can be just as colorful, plus they're more filling and nutritious.

I like to grow red and purple varieties of vegetables that are typically green, such as the red noodle bean Asian long bean, or various colors of snap beans (Although beans of any kind don't figure into my diet very well at the present time, but that will change), red lettuce varieties, red cabbage, and so on. I am tempted to try growing the purple cauliflower this fall. It's been a while since I've grown cauliflower.

Chard provides another opportunity for color in the vegetable garden with varieties like Rainbow Chard, Bright Lights Chard, and Five Color Silverbeet with their yellow, red, pink, green and white stems and ribs. Asian mustards can come in rich purples. 

I've grown pink celery (didn't live up to my expectations), and pink snap peas, which were not as good as regular sugar snaps. So sometimes the colorful varieties aren't as good or as hardy as the standard green. But I keep trying them anyway because sometimes they are the best, or at least just as good but more colorful.

I am definitely passionate about the Purple Passion Asparagus, which is sweeter and more tender than the green varieties I've eaten. And it can get pretty big around.

Plant nasturtiums in the vegetable garden -- colorful and 
flavorful on the dinner plate.

If you want easy color in the garden you can just look at all the colors of tomatoes that are offered. One of my favorites is the orange cherry sized Sun Gold. This year I've got an orange slicer called Mandarin that a friend recommended. We'll see if his enthusiasm for it matches its performance.

Peppers, of course, either sweet or hot, can offer quite a bit of color. Eggplants, too, with various shades of purple skins and sometimes white skins.

I don't recommend tearing out the flower garden to make way for colorful vegetables, although I might recommend planting certain attractive vegetables in the flower garden. Those colorful chard varieties make wonderful, edible accent plants. However, I can't put chard in the flower garden. It has to remain behind rabbit-proof fencing because the bunnies love it. Many hot pepper plants are quite attractive.

Go ahead and plant flowers in the vegetable garden, too. They have value there. Just don't think that flowers are the only colorful thing in the garden.

And Now This

 

So, this is happening.

My sweet potato garden. 

These are "slips" cut from whole sweet potatoes I put in soil, half burying them. One variety surprised me by sprouting within a week or so. Last year it seemed that this one was very pokey about sprouting. It's called "Jersey" and has white flesh and tan skin.

Sweet potatoes sprouting. These are Jerseys.

The second variety is "Murasaki," or Japanese sweet potato. It was presprouted at the same time as the Jerseys, but has only recently started sprouting. It has white flesh and red skin. We find the white sweet potatoes to be sweeter than the orange ones, although probably containing less beta carotene and some of the orange related nutrients.

All purple sweet potatoes have a good deal of "anthocyanins," potent antioxidants that help prevent a variety of health issues. Last year I presprouted the all purples at the same time as the others, and had tons of sprouts before the others started sprouting much. By the time I put them in the ground, they had started putting on tiny sweet potatoes. So I started presprouting them about the time I put the others in soil. They are starchier than the other varieties of sweet potatoes.

I'm not sprouting orange ones. One of the local nurseries will have slips to sell be mid-May, so I can get them all in the ground by the end of May.

I started presprouting the Jerseys and Murasakis around the first of February, and put them in the soil around the first of March. I used a bird feed bag for presprouting. It had a thin sheet of plastic sandwiched between two paper layers. It must have maintained humidity too well, as some of the Murasakis, which were at the bottom end of the bag, were moldy when I pulled them out. One was so moldy I tossed it. However, the others have started sprouting in spite of the mold. Next year I'll use a bag without the plastic.

In spite of starting to sprout the potatoes later than last year I will still be inundated with slips by planting time. Lucky neighbors who receive the excess.

Last year I did a post about starting and planting sweet potatoes. Rather than go into all the information here, you can read all about it in my Sweet, Sweet Potatoes post.

The slips I'm growing now are from sweet potatoes we grew last year. The originals came from organic sweet potatoes from the grocery store.

Growing your own slips and sweet potatoes really is a fairly easy process. Timing is important, though.

Last year I planted a little more than 200 slips. This year I will plant even more. My husband practically lives off of sweet potatoes and has had to start buying sweet potatoes after consuming all that I grew, except for a few white flesh ones he's save back. Since I'm on a low carb diet right now, sweet potatoes are mostly off the menu for me. Sot the sweet potato garden is pretty much all for him.

Sweet potato love.

Balancing Act

 

My ButzeFrau created on Imbolg.

Equinox fires bringing Light,

     What is out of balance, make it right.

We are now nearly a full week past the Spring Equinox, which occurred at nearly 11 pm (Kansas Time) on Tuesday, March 19. This morning the Moon hit its fullest light (with an eclipse, apparently) at about 2 am CDT.

Both of those can be considered times to seek Balance. The Equinox occurs when the Sun sits  at a point halfway between the Solstices. The Full Moon (and New Moon) represent a balance point between Light and Dark, Dark and Light.

At Imbolc (which I described in my Feb. 1 post, Spring Whispers) I dedicated myself to seeking a greater connection with my land, an ongoing task. In this Equinox season of balance, I pledge to seek better balance in my life.

Balance. Yin and Yang; Dark and Light: Passivity and Assertiveness; Rest and Work; and ???

Where do I need better balance? What does Balance mean?

I want to find better balance between my focus on chores/work and play and spiritual practice, and all of the other things I want to do. Where do I fit in my writing? My brain training? My family? My friends? For nearly six months I've been working on a balancing act with my diet, a proper fat-carb-protein ratio for a ketogenic diet.

None of us are in a position where we must balance just two things, but many. It's a juggling act. That's why it's so difficult.

The thing with balance is not that everything is equal all the time, but everything has its time and place. Some days are all about chores, and work (play?) in the garden. Some days all I do is weed and water. Today my focus was on doing laundry. On laundry day I can't expect to get much of anything else done. 

So, is that out of balance?

Of course not.

Tomorrow I won't do any laundry. Tomorrow it will be chilly and damp, while today was warm and beautiful. In spite of it being Laundry Day, I planted lettuce and radishes in the garden and had a sauna with friends. Tomorrow I might sleep in, and will focus on things indoors, maybe work on one of my long-term writing projects. On Wednesday, I will probably spread beneficial nematodes over the garden to reduce certain soil dwelling pests. Thursday we hope to go plant shopping.

Balance. Sometimes it's all Light. Sometimes it's all Dark. Sometimes it's all work. Sometimes it's all play. Sometimes I focus on one thing, sometimes on others. Juggling and balancing. Balancing and juggling. 

In the end, it all works out more or less ok. Sometimes not as ok. The key is to not worry that you're working hard all day today and getting in no play, but to be sure that the work gets done and that at some point you have a proper portion of play. I'm working on that one.

On Saturday I set up the Butzefrau in the photo above. She's sort of a magical scarecrow, an old tradition from Germany (where most of my blood ancestors originated). The ritual is to create the Butzefrau, alternately the Butzemann, on Imbolg (that name is Irish, I'm sure it's different in German) at the beginning of February from natural items found on your land. Then you dress her/him. On the Spring Equinox, the scarecrow is given a heart and paraded around your land/garden, showing her/him what they were created to protect. They are set up in a prominent place to keep watch.

This Butzefrau is tied to a piece of rebar behind a large stone we call our altar stone. She is protected by a group of Eastern redcedar trees. I wanted her prominent, but a little protected from the elements. So I spent some time trimming back branches to make sort of a shrine for her. I did not get to do a proper observance of the Equinox on either Tuesday or Wednesday, but Saturday was good enough. I wanted to be sure to do something to observe the Equinox. I spent a good bit of time on this project on Saturday. It was part of my seeking balance. Part of that seeking is making time to observe these natural holidays and put more focus on my spiritual practice.

Balance, sometimes you work, sometimes you play, sometimes you pray.

Frost on the Nettles

 

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.

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.

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  

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Happy foraging. 

Ready, Set, Go... Slowly

 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.

Winter aconite

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.

Signs of spring are obvious then in the number of songbirds that fly through the clearing as they wake up and begin to sing. 

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. 

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. 

I love the it's the yellow flowers that are the first to pop open. It's like bringing more sunshine into the world.

More sunshine is what we need at this time of year.

The yellow flowers pull in Spring and encourage all the other flowers.

I think I will strive to be a yellow flower blooming as Winter ends.

Winter Pruning -- Another Look

These apple trees want to be pruned!

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.

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. 

The branches of this little apple tree are too crowded.

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. 

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.

Thought I'd get back to it. Didn't.

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...

But like with our apple trees, the "pruning" waits.

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.

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.

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.

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?"

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.

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.

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.

A little personal pruning can do the same.

Barefoot Again

 

I was barefoot gardening today! 

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.

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!

Winter Pruning - Elderberries

 

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.

One shrub pre-prune

For a few years I tried pruning one clump in a more tree-like form. My elderberries are a shrubby, native species, Sambucus canadensis, as opposed to the European black elder, Sambucus nigra, which is a true tree. 

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.

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.

Same shrub, post-prune

I pruned my elderberries a bit more severely this year to revitalize them. In the process, I took a couple
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. 

Several other Sambucus 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 S. canadensis and the European elder.

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. 

Elderberry flowers in June.

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.

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.

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. 

Elderberry Jam
4 cups processed elderberries
¼ cup lemon juice
¾ teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon cardamom
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
Pinch of clove
2 teaspoons calcium water
1 cup honey
2 teaspoons pectin powder
 

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.

The Thaw

 

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.

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. 

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. 

Born in Fire,

Born at the break of day,

You cracked open the World, 

Setting the hills ablaze

With your Sacred Flame.

Your Crown of Flames

Reaches to the Heavens, 

Your Heart is filled with Fire.

You are Living Flame.

Ignite your fire within us

To melt the icy grip of fear.

Ignite within us your fire to melt hardened hearts.

Ignite within us your fire of passion.

Ignite the flame of inspiration.

Ignite the flame that forges,

Create us anew to forge a better world.

Ignite the fire of Justice.

Let your Sacred Wells overflow,

Bringing healing to all hearts.

Throw your Bright Blue Mantle over the world

To heal us all. 

Let your Sacred Wells overflow,

Healing us with Peace.

Spread your green cloak across the land

Growing until it covers all the World

That all shall be Free.

 

Spring Whispers

Beneath the snow, the garden is green.
This dianthus remained green all winter.

Spring whispers to the trees,

“I am coming.”

Buds swell a tiny bit. Sap rises slowly.

 

Spring whispers to the roots, and bulbs, and rhizomes,

“I am coming.”

Tiny roots begin to dig through the soil, searching.

 

Spring whispers to the seeds lying in the soil,

“I am coming.”

Something stirs within… a tiny plant preparing.

 

Spring whispers to the birds,

“I am coming.”

One bird begins to sing… then another… and another…

 

Spring whispers throughout the land,

“I am coming.”

Winter loosens its grip…

Geese call in formation, headed to summer homes…

A fresh wind blows…

Daffodil shoots test the air…

River ice cracks…

The thaw begins…

The ewe’s belly swells,

Her milk flows.

Spring whispers, “I am coming.

I am here.”

The ancient Celtic holiday begins today and ends sundown tomorrow -- Imbolc, Oimelg, Candlemas, or (not so ancient or Celtic) Groundhog Day.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Meditation to Honor the Land

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.

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.

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…

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.

And breathe… slowly… deeply.

Breathe...

Inhale slowly, deeply...

Exhale, slowly, deeply...

Again...

Do this until you feel satisfied.

 

 

A Promise Kept... and a Lesson

Bud turns into flower.

A promise is kept.

Promise...

Follow through...

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. 

That was a lesson to pay attention. Always take time to pay attention.

Or you miss the flowers.

Tracks

 

What creature made these?

Winter is a difficult time for many people. The cold. The cloudiness. Being cooped up indoors.

I have had difficult winters. However, the remedy, I have found, is getting outdoors every day. For me, that means taking daily walks.

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.

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. 

Lots of bird tracks.

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.

The snow also allows me to see who been wandering around the homestead.

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.

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. 

Bunny prints.

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.

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.

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.

What do you think?  

Promises

 

The walking irises in my "sun room" are developing buds.

A bud is a promise of a flower.

A flower promises seeds.

Seeds promise more plants. 

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.

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).

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.

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...

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.

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.

A barren wasteland... not.

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.

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.

This iris bud, full of promise, will deliver on its promise... one beautiful little flower.

Sage Advice

 

A heavy snow will disguise the smaller plants in the garden.

However, I know who lives here.

This snow-laden garden inhabitant is Sage, also known as Garden Sage, Salvia officinalis, one of my favorites.

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.

Sage has followed me to every garden I've planted. They do say, “Where sage grows well, therein rules a strong woman.”

I like to think I'm a strong woman, but I do not rule. We try to make this a partnership.

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.

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.

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.

Sage is antiseptic and can be used as a mouthwash, or as a soak to relieve athletes foot..

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. 

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.

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^th Century medical school in Italy was “Why should a man die when he can go to his garden for sage?”

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. 

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.

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.

I love sage. I hope that it will help me become a wise, old, strong woman.

 

Light is Returning

 

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.

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. 

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.

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").

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.

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?

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.

Spring will come. Light returns.

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.

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.

I will welcome Spring, for Light is returning.

Carry Over

 

The first thing I did this morning -- before coffee, even -- was finish folding laundry that I did yesterday.

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.

First thing this morning I finished a job I started yesterday.

It made me think about all of the undone tasks in the garden now hidden in snow.

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. 

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.

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.

I'll have some catching up to do when the thaw comes.

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.

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.

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.

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.