Category Archives: my garden

Messiness and happiness in the balance.

bread, homemaking, my garden, , , , , ,

Why am I so happy, suddenly? It’s 4:00 in the afternoon, my kitchen and family room are incredibly messy, it should be depressing. I took a video just now, scanning the room, with dishes sitting in tepid dishwater and empty plastic bags on the counter, bills and book mailers on the smaller table along with the contents of my traveling backpack that I’d dumped there several days ago.

On the big dining table are stacks of papers and magazines and mail waiting to be further sorted, a spray bottle of Mrs. Meyers, and bins from my Big Purge&Sort project; on the sideboard, two handbags in disarray — because I can’t decide which one I’m using from day to day when I do go out; an open planner, more mail and various papers, and stacks of books growing taller every day. Empty cardboard boxes on the floor, and the usual aprons and dishtowels wadded on the counter or slung over backs of chairs…

You know why this isn’t getting me down? It’s the second day in a row that I haven’t had any outside commitments or workers in the house, and I think I am rested from my latest expeditions. I thought I was rested by Tuesday, and today I was bright awake early, but then strangely, fell asleep mid-morning.

I didn’t tell you about my trip home from the East Coast, that involved a twice-delayed flight, the last shuttle bus of the night (2:00 a.m.) not showing up, and me finally taking an Uber all the way from the airport, a one-hour ride. There was so much interesting along that journey, like the red Tesla that brought me home, but I have been too weary to write about it. I got into bed at 5 in the morning. I had written in that planner ahead of time that I should “Stay Home!” all this week, but I’d forgotten about our parish feast day… Anyway, now I have had two good days of solitude, and tomorrow is another one, God willing.

I’ve accomplished so many things in these homey days, slowly and steadily as my wits come around again. When I returned from D.C. there were two large zucchinis waiting to be picked, and three perfect ones, and some rubbery celery in the fridge. This afternoon I cooked up one of the big fruits with the celery. I made appointments (for next week), ordered birthday presents, bought a new lamp online, and took time to read while sitting in my morning room.

And I baked bread! My effort from a few weeks ago was a failure — let’s not talk about that — so I tried a new thing today, and it worked pretty well. I have a small loaf that is just the right size for me, and it didn’t crack on the side very much…

The crack is not big enough that the slice of bread falls apart, and the crumb is nice and  “custardy.” With a little more experimenting, I’m hopeful of developing a recipe that will work with my style of homemaking and cooking, and be somewhat reliable. If it can be sourdough, all the better. And if anyone has a theory about the crack, please let me know. Becoming a professional baker, or adopting a systematic, precise and scientific baking personality — that is not going to happen.

It’s 90 degrees today, which is good for my mood, and for bread baking. If it’s colder than 80, the house stays cold, and I behave like a lizard in winter. If it’s 95 or 100 I have to shut the windows to keep the house cool. But today, I can fully enjoy the summer and have the outdoors coming in — through the screens, of course! I never will get over how my grandma in Berkeley summers would have the windows wide open with no screens, and no flies. I can remember how her sheer curtains would float gently in the breeze that blew up the hill from San Francisco Bay….

The front garden is burgeoning, everything bigger than ever, with an added flower growing out from under the germander hedge. It’s not like anything else growing on the property, or the neighbors’ properties, unless you compare it to the Golden Marguerite that can be seen behind it. The Seek app even said it was a Golden Marguerite, but if it is, its petals are albinos.

All in all, I think the balance between tidiness and messiness tipped a tiny bit toward the tidy in the last hours, in spite of added bread dough and starter mess. I promise I will clean the kitchen now and not leave any dishwater in the sink when I go to bed. That will contribute to keeping happiness in ascendance, too. Thank you for sharing my happy day with me.

Summer evening layers.

my garden, summer, travel, , , , ,
At my Airbnb.

Soon after returning from Pippin’s forest dwelling in the northern reaches of California, I drove southward to the Santa Cruz mountains, where I hadn’t visited for six years. My Airbnb was quite close to Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park, and also to the cousins whom I was visiting.

This area is where our extended family used to have a cabin, at Mount Hermon, just up the hill from Santa Cruz, under the redwoods. Under the redwoods is the theme of this whole area, which I had apparently forgotten, because when I came into town and found my lodging, and found again my cousins’ place, I was astounded by the height of the forest and its unique scents. I know, I was just remarking similarly about Pippin’s trees, but of course these are a unique experience, in a different climate zone. The forest here is mainly redwoods, madrones, and oaks. Fog is abundant, and redwoods thrive in it.

The cousins’ driveway.

My first encounter with dogwoods was in the understory of these towering  trees, many decades ago. Little towns have nestled on the slopes and along the creeks since the 19th century, and humans have planted their own shrubs and flowers that thrive, and add to the good smells that rise up when the morning fog dissipates and the sun draws out their essences.

The climate this far south and close to the ocean is very mild. Sometimes the winter passes without a frost; this June is cooler than usual here as it has been farther north.

But summer has officially arrived! My cousins and I ate seafood on the wharf at Santa Cruz, with views of the boardwalk and the beach. We drove as far south as Capitola, and north to Boulder Creek; the sun came out every day, eventually, and flowers bloomed everywhere. We were nourished by all the beauty (and great food), but primarily by our memories, and our affection for one another.

Now I have returned home, and see that my garden has filled out a lot just from the beginning of the week to the end. The layers of blooms and textures are different, now that the ixia has faded and the succulents and lavender are coming into prominence. In the last few years it seemed that the yarrow was dying out, but now I think maybe it just needed extra water, because after the wet winter it is doing great.

Everything looks pretty when the sun shines through in the evening. The acanthus is so tall, and the heuchera, whose flowers change tone week by week as they dry up; they started as greenish white, and now are ever darkening orangey brown…

Clary Sage

I’ll be traveling again in just two weeks, to visit Kate and her family in D.C. In the meantime I plan to take advantage of the energizing warmth of summer, and enjoy every moment, in the garden and all over the place. Summer is the best!

Only the day and I are here.

my garden, other gardens, poetry, time, , ,
The glory of 2020

When I was at Pippin’s I got to help water her garden, and pull ever encroaching forest ferns out of the blueberry patch. Many years ago she planted four varieties of blueberries, two of each, aiming for a harvest that would stretch from one end to the other of the season, and they mostly are growing and spreading, and bearing fruit.

She had recently taken her dahlia tubers out of winter storage and planted them inside the deer fence; they were almost all coming up. Often I have visited in September, for Ivy’s birthday, when those flowers are in their glory.

Four years ago I visited their homestead in this month of June, and it’s interesting to see my pictures of different plants and activities from back then. I don’t know yet when I will be able to return….

The glory of this day

Anyway, I drove home yesterday, and immediately went out to water the potted plants; the mock orange is stealing the show right now. I am thankful to have my own garden to play in.  Out there I can forget what month or year it is — or what century! — if only for a moment.

DEW LIGHT

Now in the blessed days of more and less
when the news about time is that each day
there is less of it I know none of that
as I walk out through the early garden
only the day and I are here with no
before or after and the dew looks up
without a number or a present age

-W.S. Merwin

The sun shines on triads of blue.

my garden, weather, , , , , , , ,
This evening’s view through my kitchen window.

It seemed like most of May was overcast and cold… Oh, I know there were a few sunny hours in there, but I had to turn on the furnace again, and I felt my mood sink. Many days, in the evening just before dusk the clouds would open up and let a few rays through, as the damp marine breeze was blowing in. But at the very end of the month: the sun! the sun! I guess I am a central California girl in my bones.

The penstemon bloomed while the weather was still gray; as soon as there was enough sunlight, I took its picture, from north, south, east and west. Things are really crowded right now by the patio, and the blue-eyed grass is barely peeking out from under that penstemon. I guess the Santa Barbara daisies (erigeron) are not exactly blue, but their lavender tone made me think of this group as layers of blue blossoms:

On the other side of the garden, nigella, salvia and borage definitely make a blue bouquet:

The plum trees got some kind of icky leaf curl on their new growth, from the wet spring I guess. Also, because of the constant rain, we were able to apply a dormant spray only once during the winter. Alejandro came today and cut off all those branches, which were going to get lopped anyway in a couple of weeks, at the solstice.

While he was working, I wandered about like an enchanted queen considering her domain, picking flowers here and there. Though the blues definitely make a splash in the garden right now, they didn’t steal the show from the sweet peas and yarrow in my bouquet. Any day that ends with fresh flowers in the house I count as a success. Garden happiness!