Category Archives: my garden

A batch of cookies and summer loves.

books, friends, my garden, summer, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Crape Myrtles are in full bloom in my neighborhood, including on my own property. Mine is not more than five years old, and in the last year it seems to have doubled in size.

I’ve been walking down to the creek bridge and beyond several times a week, and all the trees and plants growing in and on the banks of that stream also seem to have mushroomed, so that I can barely see the water below the bridge.

I love the summer, because it’s only in the occasional heat waves of the season that I can feel fully at home and in sync with the earth. In this climate with marine influence, where the evenings get cold and breezy even in the summer, it’s a treat to fully sink into the warmth and stay there all evening; even when I climb into bed I am relaxed, and don’t have to pull several layers up to my chin against the chill. Of course, this sounds crazy to those of you who live in high-humidity summer zones!

Even when it was over 100 degrees last week, I was able to spend a lot of time in the garden morning and evening, and then work on other projects in the middle of the day. I have plenty of paperwork and sorting yet to accomplish. If I ever finish that — Please God, help me! — I could sew, or read, or get back into writing book reviews …

When I read on my phone, I’ve started taking screen shots of quotes that I don’t want to lose. And I often look up words I don’t know — On Substack there are so many good writers with vast vocabularies — and take screenshots of the definitions.

Spider in the plum tree.

One morning as I set out on my usual walking route, I passed by the house down on the corner, where a vegetable garden has been carved out of the lawn, next to the sidewalk. For months I have been admiring the health and size of the plants, and that morning I spied a dozen beautiful yellow summer squashes peeking out from under the leaves, several of which should have been picked days earlier; on my way back I debated about whether to inquire about them. If the owners didn’t want them for some reason, I would take them… and if the gardeners had suddenly been incapacitated and couldn’t pick their own squash, I could offer to do that for them….

It sounded reasonable… and one hates to see beautiful vegetables going to waste… but what if I got involved with people I found disagreeable? Or who were needy beyond my abilities to help? I stood on the sidewalk and thought a while, then walked up to the door and knocked. The result: I made a new gardening friend.

Dee gave me three overgrown squashes, though none of the size I’d have preferred, and she invited me to come back for more. She enjoyed talking about her garden, and told me about her family that she lives with, including her recently widowed mother, who she said is the cook of the household. I wondered if that cook prefers overgrown zucchinis…. On one of the less sweltering days I did cook the squashes into a spicy, satisfying stew, which I was glad to have..

That’s my own chard and collards in the picture above, the leaves that were not eaten by insects or mollusks; I picked almost all of my greens and now my own little squash plants are spreading out in the planter boxes. Recently I transplanted the tarragon out of a pot into one of those boxes where it will get more regular watering, and it is thriving.

I used several sprigs of it to make Anytime Apricot and Tarragon Cookies from the Dorie’s Cookies book. They were in the chapter called “Cocktail Cookies,” and the recipe includes no sweetening beyond the dried apricots and tarragon.

I baked those savory shortbread cookies to take to friends who’d invited me for lunch, who I knew didn’t care for sweets very much. But they are winemakers, so I thought they might like the kind of savory cookies one could nibble on while sipping a glass of wine. We all thought they were really nice; it was amazing how much subtle sweetness we tasted in them; I think the level of saltiness helped bring it out.

I got together with several women who are collaborating to share homemaking skills; for our first meeting we focused on knitting. I had two cotton dishcloths I’d knitted a while back, which I decided to join together. I tried crocheting them together but I couldn’t figure out how to do that while at the same time chatting with everyone, so I just sewed them together with a blanket stitch.

I don’t have hopes of becoming an expert knitter, but I like to be with these women. And their babies! (At church there is a new family with a little guy just turned one, and he is the friendliest love bug. He loves me! And I never tire of holding him.)

Our host had an awe-inspring jar of kombucha scoby on her kitchen counter, and two of our group were happy to take home a quart of it to get their own kombucha production up and running again. My own fermenting experiments stalled decades ago with yogurt-making, and a succession of three yogurt makers that never satisfied. I never tried making sauerkraut, because that was a food I have been prejudiced against ever since it made a regular appearance on our table when I was a child; I did somehow manage to enjoy kimchi when my son “Soldier” brought it into the family’s already international culinary repertoire.

But I have made Lemon Verbena Sugar Paste!  Lemon verbena is one of my garden treasures, but I haven’t pruned my plant often enough or used its leaves much, and it has gotten very leggy. So when I saw a young and well-shaped specimen in the grocery store, I brought it home and now have two such treasures. When I pruned the older plant, I took all the leaves to make Lemon Verbena Sugar Paste. There were more or less potent recipes online; I used the one with the highest ratio of herb to sugar, 2 cups to 1/2 cup.

I stuck the paste in the freezer and hope I will remember to bring it out to add to tea, sprinkle on desserts, use as a glaze, etc. Maybe I’ll also remember to tell you here if I do.

After I asked my friend Cori what were her summer reading plans, naturally she asked me back. I should have anticipated that and not asked her to begin with — because I have no real plans, and feel like an imposter. I have been reading less than usual. I see that of the nineteen books I pictured here five months ago, I have read just two. Only one of those I got to the end of was from the stack I was going to “try extra hard” to read this year. Well, the year is half over, so it doesn’t look promising for those selections. I took new pictures of the “summer books” to show Cori, because it was easier than typing out the titles.

Four of those I have at least started reading, and the Undset book is my current reading-while-falling-asleep choice. I have, typically, read several books that I didn’t anticpate back in February, and some of them were not worth talking about, or even reading to the end.

But let me just mention a young adult novel I did read to the end and liked a lot, What the Night Sings. Written by Vesper Stamper, who was one of the speakers at the Symbolic World Summit I attended earlier in the year in Florida, this is a coming-of-age-in-the-Holocaust story, illustrated by the author. First I listened to the novel, and then I borrowed the hard copy from the library, because I wanted to see the illustrations, which are many, and are very well done, as is the whole story. Stamper’s Berliners, is at hand, too, waiting for me.

If you have read — or even scrolled — this far in my ramble, I’m impressed! There is some reason you stayed so long, though there were doubtless some topics along the way that didn’t interest you. Whoever you are, I appreciate you very much.

Companionable Love-in-a-Mist

my garden, , , , , , , ,

I’m gushing every day over my lush garden; once again this year, but twice as much, the extra rain has prompted everything to grow BIG! A friend said it’s because the precipitation was spread out more evenly over the season.

Nigella, or Love-in-a-Mist, has spread its soft, blue-blossomed self all over the place, so much so that I needed to rescue a lot of plants from the stems that had grown tall, taller, and so tall, with their seed pods getting heavy, that they lost their balance and fell down on the surrounding lavender, germander, yarrow — whatever was there, trying to come into bloom itself.

It’s a happy chaos, out there. But a gardener must garden, and manage things, if lightly.

Verbena planted last fall.
Apple mint and Bugloss.

The hopbushes (dononea) seem to be extra full and extra colorful this year:

Yarrow buds and nigella pods clinging.
White-lined Sphinx Moth amongst the Mexican Evening Primrose.
Showy Milkweed

When I was lifting nigella off the echinacea out front, I noticed that the Golden Margeurite also was encroaching and reclining, on the germander nearby. I had to cut it back a lot, but you can hardly tell, there is so much of it. I brought it indoors and it has made a long-lasting bouquet of golden sunshine.

The fountain is dry, but not I.

bees, bread, my garden, travel, , , , , ,

This morning the fountain-cleaner Bill did his good work scrubbing and flushing out my fountain, and then left it empty and turned off. I am traveling a lot in the next month and don’t want it to become a swamp while I’m gone.

Out my bedroom window.

The garden is looking pretty good right now because it’s entering the flowery time of year, and because I’ve had several days to focus on it, to be out there noticing not just little weeds that are easily pulled out of mulch, but this and that glorious scent and sight.

On my neighborhood walks, too, I’m spying perfection of Japanese maples…

…and at church, just look at the wisteria! I could only fit about half of its span in the frame:

Springtime is downright boggling, to the mind and the heart.

During the few days that were cloudy and gloomy, I washed the dirt from my hands and put them into the sourdough. My recent loaf is very tasty, but it would not rise — well, not much. After several hours I gave up and hoped for oven spring, which did not happen. So I got this stunted result, shown after I had sliced it to store in the freezer, so I can take out one slice (2 1/4 inch tall) at a time.

Soon I was back outside again, planting three butternut squash starts and a Juliet tomato plant in the planter boxes. There is no frost in the forecast, and I will soon be gone to Wisconsin for a while, for the first of the grandchild weddings. My original plan was to just wait until mid-May this year to plant summer vegetables, but it seems worth the risk at this point to get them in sooner.

We Orthodox are entering Holy Week on Sunday. I will be away from my parish for most of it, and through Bright Week, and away from my home and garden, so any real-time reports I might have time for will be field reports, or travelogues. For now, I’m soaking up all the familiar and beloved elements of my world to fortify myself against the asphalt and airports that lie between me and daughter Pearl’s garden. Once I arrive there, I will be well nourished by hugs and kisses from a dozen or more family members, and won’t even think of my lemon tree or coral bells back here.

But not quite yet! When I noticed the bee with its head in the lithodora (picture at top), I was mostly looking at the Blue-eyed Grass nearby. It is so sweet it breaks my heart.

The olive gets refreshed.

my garden, quotes, trees,
September 2016

Back in 2016 I removed my two olive trees from their pots, trimmed their roots, and installed them in larger, matching white (and lightweight) fiberglass pots. I seem to have never written about the process here or posted photos; I wish I had, because I couldn’t remember the specifics, and had to consult YouTube when yesterday I decided to tackle the root-trimming job again.

Olive Junior, June 2020

The landscape designer who advised me back then not to plant an olive tree in the ground, because it would grow out of scale and become overbearing in my little garden, suggested I keep the ones I already had and just put them in larger containers; she added that I would need to trim the roots every couple of years to keep them healthy in the confined space.

That was eight years ago this month, and one of the trees by its yellowing leaves has been signalling me that my procrastinating was costing it its health. The task had become more daunting with every year added to my age. Those pots may be easy to move around when they are empty, but with all that moist dirt and biomass in them, I could barely tip one over on to a tarp.

When I did, I found a couple dozen salamanders of all sizes under there. They weren’t happy to feel the sun on their cool and moist bodies, and they writhed and slithered away into the mulch.

Getting the root ball out of the pot was the hardest part of the whole job. My back didn’t suffer any lasting effects, but my arm muscles are complaining. We were stuck in the situation pictured above no matter how I yanked and rolled things around; I really could have used a helper (with long arms) at this point just to pull on the pot while I pulled on the tree. But inch by slow inch — and it was finally out.

After I loosened the snarled roots, and shook off the old soil, it dawned on me that I didn’t have enough new soil to replace it, so I covered the root ball against the sun and took a half hour to go to the store for a few bags of potting soil.

Olive Senior, May 2020

After trimming the roots I put the pot back in place and leveled it using two flat stones from the mountains, then put the tree back in, with the new dirt, and a little fruit tree food. I trimmed the branches a bit, too. I think this tree, whom I’ll call “Olive Junior,” will be happier now.

What about the other one? It seems pretty healthy, so I’m putting off dealing with it for now. The two trees have different history. Olive Senior was given to me as a birthday present by my son “Pathfinder” and his family more than ten years ago. I kept it in a roomy pot but didn’t water it very much; its form was lacking but it didn’t occur to me to try to improve on it.

A few years later I saw little olive saplings at the grocery store half-off, that is, $7.50. They were very healthy and more shapely than my olive tree, and I brought one home. I began to shape Olive Senior with my pruners. When it came time to put them in matching pots, O.S.’s roots weren’t crowded in the pot and there wasn’t much to trim off. Olive Junior’s roots were extensive and needed a lot of trimming, even though it was much younger. So… I’m guessing each is still following its pattern, and I can wait a bit, and tackle Olive Senior with a little more forethought, and with a helper.

It’s a great blessing to own not just one, but two olive trees, even if I do have to give them the bonsai treatment. They like the Mediterranean climate. I will close my olive report with this Bible verse that I took many years ago as a poem-prayer expressing my heart’s vision:

But as for me,
I am like a fruitful olive tree
in the house of the Lord;
I have hoped in the mercy of God
for ever, and unto the ages of ages.

Psalm 51:8