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.