Category Archives: my garden

The tarragon is winning.

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This morning I read that we had got two inches of rain in the last 24 hours. It’s the Atmospheric River again! When I took out the trash, I discovered that the lid to the can had blown open, and the bin was half full of water. I was very glad that there was no trash in there swimming around.

The first asparagus came up this week, and the first freesia this morning. We have one day, today, with no rain, but it’s coming back, they say; the River might run for four more days.

I finally peeled, chopped and cooked the last of my little pumpkins that I’d grown last summer. I had saved seeds in 2021 from what looked like a mere ornamental pumpkin bought at Trader Joe’s for a front porch decoration, but after eating all the larger ornaments, I didn’t want to waste that little guy, so I cooked him, too. He was the sweetest of all! It was really satisfying to get descendants from him.

When I was at church during a short spell of sunshine this week, I saw this quince bush (above) with an unusual color of blooms.  So far none of my seeds have sprouted; they must be waiting for more warmth. But the tarragon has come out of dormancy and is overtaking the hairy bittercress that’s invaded its pot. Go, tarragon!

Sowing in late winter…

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…or is it early spring?

The best time to plant some of these seeds would have been two or three weeks ago, but I was otherwise busy on the mild days, and when the weather turned colder I wimped out. But this week, at the end of a day when the sun was shining and my hands didn’t hurt from the cold, I was able to organize my thoughts and my packets enough to get some seeds into the ground. The rain has returned, blessed be God, and has watered them thoroughly.

Calendula plants and stock are growing in a couple of places in the garden; after the hardest winter battering, the stock are covered with little flower buds. The lemon tree having been pruned to a less gangly form, it’s showing off its dozens of fruits to better effect. I love the two plum trees! If they never produced another plum, I’d still count them well worth having, for the way their blossoms brighten these cloudy days and remind me that every hour brings us closer to summer.

Working in the garden through only the late afternoon made me incredibly happy. When I came in the house I could only pray “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

It’s been quite a week, indescribable for the most part, at least, in the way I would prefer to write about things. My report must be vague: The days have been full of friends, those Lenten services that are characterized by bright sadness, and the mercies of God new every morning. Mostly I came here to write about my garden that He uses to bestow on me His also indescribable gifts…

Here ends another day, during which I have had eyes, ears, hands
and the great world around me. Tomorrow begins another day. Why am I allowed two?

-G.K. Chesterton

Celebrating March with bread and blossoms.

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Over the years since I planted two Elephant Heart plum trees in my back yard garden, I have begun to notice a pattern: In February or March the trees begin to put out their blooms, and in the same months we get hailstorms. Then I say something on my blog, like, “I worry about my plum blossoms!”

This is the eighth springtime that these trees have found themselves in my garden when they woke from dormancy. Every summer I get more fruit, so I guess things are pretty good. This particular first day of March is still very cold and windy, but the sun is shining in a blue sky, and it looks like we’ll have three days of sunshine before we welcome the rain again.

I’m almost out of firewood, and it doesn’t look like I’ll get any more for this season; but I have a good furnace, which I wouldn’t mind using even more than I do if it weren’t so noisy. When I get tired of its roar I turn down the thermostat and put on a coat. Today I have time to build a fire before going to a Lenten service in the evening, and it will be nice to come home to a cozy and quiet house.

What’s another cozy and homey thing? Baking bread! Even if it’s done in the big church kitchen. Three of us made that kitchen nice and comfortable yesterday when we made these loaves of Communion bread together.

My computer guy came yesterday afternoon to do a check-up on my desktop; he hadn’t been here for so long, we had a lot to catch up on. His happiest news was all the sourdough bread baking he has been doing for his family, of which he showed me photos of the sort they put on the covers of artisan bread cookbooks. He is going to leave a jar of his starter on my doorstep tomorrow! I have been thinking for a few months that I want to come out of my bread-baking retirement. It’s just too severe a cutting away of my former self, not baking bread, and I’m going to try to graft that branch back in.

One reason I gave it up was that so many people are eating gluten-free, and it seemed a challenge to find people to give my (mostly excess) bread to; I feel differently about that part now, for some reason. Yesterday we ended up with two little bits of dough left over, and made them into two “buns” that we baked along with the regular loaves. You can see the smaller one at the top left of the photo above. I took that one home and ate it for lunch, and it was the most delicious thing. Bread is a wonder.

Garlicky Chard with Cannellinis

food and cooking, my garden, ,

GARLICKY SWISS CHARD WITH CANNELLINI BEANS

Probably I saw a recipe online that inspired this creation, which was prompted by great quantities of Swiss chard growing in my garden a year ago. I never wrote down amounts of ingredients, but at the request of a commenter yesterday, I can tell you how I made the dish.

In a 6-quart pot sauté several (5-15) chopped garlic cloves in a generous amount (several tablespoons) of olive or other oil. Just before it is turning brown, stuff as much washed, chopped chard as you can (or as much as you have on hand — I think at least 3-4 commercial bunches) into the pot, with salt sprinkled between the layers, and about a cup of water. Cover the pot and simmer this mixture, stirring occasionally to distribute the garlic, until the chard is tender. Uncover at the end if it is soupy, to let some of the liquid cook off. Drain and rinse one or two cans of cannellini beans and add them, generous grindings of black pepper — and bits of dried tomato if you like. Adjust for salt.

I didn’t take a picture before I put my last batch into the freezer, but I will try to remember to take one when I defrost it, and come back here to add it in.

Update later the same day: For some reason, I love this dish the most when it is made with Italian Silver Rib Heirloom Chard, which features very meaty, thick and wide white ribs. Maybe the “Italian” in the name prompted me to add the cannellinis. I can’t find a picture of it in real life, but this seed packet shows it very accurately. I’ll be planting new seeds this week.