Tag Archives: firewood

The day that the LORD has made.

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Sweet peas in September!

Do you know a chorus or hymn to those words in my title?

This is the day that the Lord has made;
We will rejoice and be glad in it.

We used to sing it in the Bible churches that my family attended back in the day, and now I sing it in the Orthodox Church, in a different setting. Many times recently I’ve had cause to meditate about the significance of both the fact and the exhortation in those lines from the Psalter. Often I wonder, as does G.K. Chesterton,

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?

I could not possibly list all the things I am thankful for every day. But I can occasionally write a blog post about a few of them, which I am doing this afternoon…

It’s Sunday, so fresh on my heart is the most extravagant and Life-giving thing: that I was a recipient of the Holy Mysteries of the Eucharist, the very Body and Blood of Christ. I was not kept at home by illness, nor was my attention distracted from the service by pain — right there are two of those Things That Didn’t Happen that are always infinite in number for any of us. If we are feeling grumpy, thinking on those non-events, the ones we wouldn’t have desired, can help move the mind in a positive direction to things that actually exist.

If my garden is full of unsightly areas, and posing problems for me to solve, I can go for hours or days without worrying about them, because I am so thankful to have a garden of any sort.  I feel like saying to God, “I have a gorgeous fig tree! How can it be possible that I also have a lemon tree, a begonia, and a fountain??”

Time Management is a term I do not like. Long ago, I used to think a lot about my days in terms of T.M., and it wasn’t happy thinking. It was Happier thinking when I was sitting on the couch with several children around me, reading A Child’s Garden of Verses, or Winnie the Pooh, or The Jungle Book.

Anise Swallowtail

Another Happy kind of thinking is when I walk around the garden considering all the wildlife out there. Currently we have caterpillars feasting on the plants, including two Anise Swallowtails in the parsley patch. On the milkweed, Monarch Caterpillar #2 has entered the pupa stage, and Caterpillar #3 is still munching. This is a pollinator gardener’s joy  ❤  and I hope that there are dozens more caterpillars that I haven’t noticed, that are reaping the bounty and thanking God with me. …even if they are Cabbage Whites, which like to eat everything — though I haven’t seen many of those around this year.

Monarch chrysalis

The problem that Time Management poses is, “How can I get everything done?” But I now know that I can’t. Whenever I’m doing one thing, like typing here, and/or exulting in the caterpillars and flowers, I’m not doing dozens of other things, which threaten to Never Get Done.

There is some kind of Russian proverb that I remember roughly as, “If I don’t die today, I can do Those Things later. If I do die today, it won’t matter that I didn’t do them.” 

Even King David could not do everything he wanted. He wanted to build a temple, and God even told him that was a Good Idea, but that it wasn’t for him. It seems like the vast majority of Good Ideas I’ve had throughout my life have not or will not come to fruition, so they will remain in the Theoretical category. I want to focus on the Real things that I am participating in right now.

It probably wouldn’t have mattered, if I hadn’t got a delivery of firewood this month. I feel a little silly about it, because I still have wood left from the last two late-summer deliveries. I will definitely be prepared, if the power fails. After Bea and I stacked it, at one end of the rows that were left over, it seems that I must have well over a cord, and maybe I won’t have to buy wood next year. The newer, golden logs are on the left, and the oldest, grayest ones on the right. It looks like rolling hills of cordwood; that wasn’t planned.

Last week I drove my friend Mrs. C to the coast, where we ate clam chowder overlooking the mouth of the Russian River, in the town of Jenner-by-the-Sea. I had been mentally dragging my feet about spending the time, but once I got out the door the day unfolded perfectly. It was the Day That the LORD had made, after all. If I had stayed home, I may have cleaned the bathroom (probably not), but I would not have been able to watch a hundred pelicans swirling, swooping, and doing belly flops on the river. Even the fog was not unpleasant; I had forgotten that it would not be a cold fog out there. Inland it had been quite rainy, but by the river we were able to sit outside, where blackbirds joined us at our table and welcomed any crumbs we offered.

The recent rain was a very welcome change from the chill winds we’d been having, that made me fear for an early departure of summer. Once the clouds moved in, the temperatures rose. I will be able to relax again, and hope for more figs ripening.

Several butternut squashes are ripening on the plants that have spread into the driveway. This one peeking out (above) is one of the largest. The rudbeckia at that corner of the driveway has been blooming for months and months and I have been amazed at it all summer. But it is winding down…

Just before the rain, I had bought a flat full of plants for that challenging area by my front door. These are all species that can thrive in Part Shade. I will hope to plant them this week or next; ajuga, violas, cranesbill, dwarf plumbago, and more.

A late calendula.

My leafy green seeds have sprouted, indoors and out. I harvested a pile of that basil that had been calling to me, and made pesto. There’s been a lot of Happy Thinking-Thanking through the days in Gretchen’s Garden. It helps that more than any other month, I love September.

All the weeds are pretty.

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Hairy Bittercress

When the overcast lifted and the sun came out, and my house and I were warmed up, thanks to the wood fire that I was oh so grateful to have had the energy to get going — then I looked out the kitchen window and decided that I would wash the glass patio table that had gotten all dirty from rain and wind and leaves.

It was one of those things where you do one little task, which leads to another, and another. I was oh so grateful for the way that happens, which also can’t be counted on. I pulled out the bare and mushy begonia stems nearby, that had been pleading with me through the window for weeks, and so removed their shame. From there I carried my small green trug all around the garden to fill with trimmings of mint, rose geranium, and part of a lavender bush that had escaped the shears back in the summer.

Chocolate mint

I even repotted a plant! Soon after Christmas Day I had gone to the nursery to see if they still had a little live Christmas tree of any sort, but they were sold out. I had thought a conifer in a pot would be nice by my front door, to get me through the winter. It’s become a pet project to have something in that spot, a plant that is healthy and cheery, and preferably blooming, to greet guests and me when we come and go.

They were sold out of Christmas trees at the nursery, but they did have blooming Kangaroo Paws. I brought one home and switched out the aster right away, but the new plant was cramped — so I moved it into a larger pot where it could spread its roots out more comfortably. This is the “before” picture, though:

All the weeds are pretty right now, because they are all tiny and fresh-fresh green. I can identify most of the peskiest, which in some cases come from seeds or plants that in past years I encouraged to grow in my garden. From that group the ones that I am now dis-couraging to greater or lesser degree are Love-in-a-Mist (nigella), violas, and California poppies.

Common groundsel

I pulled dozens of just-up nigella and bittercress out from around other plants that I don’t want to be choked out, and promised myself I would work on the asparagus beds in couple of days, after they have dried out more:

Violas infesting the asparagus beds.

The plan is to remove all the violas, and then spread mulch again. I don’t know what has been digging in there — maybe crows?

Baby California poppy with Hairy Bittercress

My favorite leather work gloves are pigskin, because they are soft and flexible enough not to hinder me throwing wood into the stove, or doing other tasks that require some dexterity. But they wear out really fast, and are expensive. So I ordered two other types to try out, and they arrived today:

The ones on the left are supple enough and mold to my hands, and I think I’ll use them in the house when dealing with the wood and the stove. The ones on the right are stiffer, but they will be fine for carrying cordwood into the garage or house.

For gardening, I use non-leather gloves, because for that I need even more dexterity, but I end up taking them off half the time. I’m thinking of switching to thin vinyl gloves, but I wonder if my hands just have a mind of their own, and want to be in the dirt all the way.

There’s no rain or frost on the forecast here in my corner of the world, but sunshine is predicted. That will be good for my mood, and probably for sleep, too. I think I’ll make it through January again!

Petty spurge

Monday rain and flowers.

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So many little tasks need doing before setting off on a journey. Of course there is the packing of supplies to use while I’m away, but there is also the making ready of Home. It needs quite a bit of tidying up, just to show the homemaker that she does love this place. Being extra nice to the garden by deadheading and cleaning up also does a lot to ease my sore heart, because it dreads saying good-bye once again.

And I’m in the middle of my biggest garden project ever, that is, the biggest I’ve ever taken on by myself. Ten areas of the garden will have been changed in different ways, when I’m finished. That sounds like it is almost everything, but it’s not. I won’t be finished for a few more weeks, mostly because October and November are better months for planting perennials around here, but also because I plain ran out of time this month.

Last fall I planted three clary sage plants, which are biennials and will bloom next June. I hope I can remember to start a few every fall so that I can keep them coming. Below you can see one of the older ones in the foreground, next to the pincushion flower I planted last week, and in the background two of the younger clary sages I was able to get from a local nursery recently.

As three big conifers to the south of me, including my own Canary Island Pine, keep growing taller, the amount of “full sun” in the back garden has been shrinking. It was a case of bit by bit, and then all at once. All at once I realized why the purple coneflower barely blooms, and even the recently planted Mexican Evening Primrose is not happy.

apple mint

Also there is the problem of the unpleasing design, or lack of design, from the last landscaper, of the area near my front door. I’m unwilling to live with it, so it’s taken hours and hours of thinking and thinking and reading on the Pacific Horticulture site, researching and shopping for plants, imagining how they will look if I put them here or there. I’m moving several plants installed last year to better places.

When I get new gallons or 4″ pots on site, I arrange them still in the pots where I think they work, and then I think better of it, and carry them elsewhere. To the front yard — No, the back yard — how will it look alongside this other plant that can take part shade? Weird? Probably… Oh well, they will have to get along. It can be exhausting being so unsystematic.

Naked Buckwheat

I’m excited to have my very own Naked Buckwheats — this is a California native that I often see in the mountains. My daughter Pippin has them growing wild around her place. And now me!

I decided to grow annual vegetables in the front garden near the perennial asparagus, because they will be sure to get enough sun there; but I need to add more soil first. I should have waited to buy the kalettes and Chinese Broccoli until that bed was ready, but I didn’t, and they were in little six packs, so I spent an hour transferring them to larger pots so they won’t get rootbound while they’re waiting.

I have cut down the asparagus a few times, first because of the aphids, and then so that I could rake away all the mulch and add more soil, and new mulch. But spears keep coming up, and looking ferny lovely:

When I cut them, I throw away the fronds or chop them up for the worms, but there are always several that haven’t become fronds yet, and that are the right size for eating. I accumulated enough to roast a panful this afternoon.

And I made a batch of Jammy Eggs to have for snacks on the journey.

It’s to Wisconsin I am going, because my granddaughter Miss Maggie is getting married! It was barely over a year ago that her brother’s wedding took me to that state, and now back I go. It will be a very happy time, and I will be over my leavinghomesickness before you know it.

One of the asparagus beds.

It started raining this afternoon. Early autumn rains are just the best. I can leave the windows and doors open and breathe the rain, and hear it pitter patter. The drops began to fall when I was still in the middle of planting my Bouteloua gracilis, or blue grama grass (“Blonde Ambition”), and after I cleaned up my tools I still had to put out all the trash cans, plus an extra green bin a neighbor is letting me use. Four neighbors, two on either side of me, are always letting me use extra space in their green waste bins for my overflow.

Blue Grama Grass

Do you find that when you are getting ready for a trip, not only do you have the packing for the actual trip, and the everyday housework and cooking that has nothing to do with the trip, but also extra, surprise things that come up that take some of your precious time? I realized last week that I needed to lay in some firewood, and that took a whole day to deal with. I got a half cord and stacked it almost entirely by myself. In the course of that my neighbor Eric lent me his wheelbarrow and offered to repair my wheelbarrow. He noticed in going through my gate that it didn’t latch behind him, so I spent an hour figuring out how to adjust that latch. I don’t want the gate to fail to close when I’m away, if he should come for the wheelbarrow.

And what do you know, I also got inconvenient visitors this week — ants! They have been mostly crawling around on my computer table and keyboard — and my hands — so I am going to cut this shorter than it might have been, stopping at long instead of longer, and I’ll hope to check in from Wisconsin soon. But I still don’t have a tablet or anything larger than my little phone to work on, so I don’t know…

Happy Autumn Days to you all.

Walking with Moses and rain.

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This morning was frosty enough to make ice in my garden fountain. I wore a thick wool sweater to church, and kept it on until I got home again five hours later and changed into my firewood clothes. Both the supply of logs near the wood stove and the nice rack I have in the garage needed replenishing from the stacks outside. I bring in a dozen or so logs at a time to dry out, and to have handy when it’s raining or just dark and I don’t want to go out.

Opposite that rack I have tubs and boxes and bags of kindling and newspapers, a place to split the kindling, and a bucket for collecting ashes. I don’t see how I’m ever going to make room for my car in the garage, which has been a minor goal for a couple of years now. That space serves as my pantry and laundry room and tool shed, and holds all the sorts of things that my daughter Pearl says you have to keep in the garage if you don’t have a basement.

The little guy below came in with a load of logs; the young house guests squealed and their mother scooped him out of the fireplace corner into a dustpan. He was trying to fall out of it, so I picked him up and tried to hold him in such a way that the children could look at him for a bit. But they would have none of it, and just wanted him out of the house, so I let him out the back door into the rain. I hope it washed him of all the woody litter.

The pewter wise men have arrived, after journeying across the table in my entry, to take up their worshipful positions in front of the Christ Child. I’ve removed a small amount of Christmas decor, mostly the fresh cotoneaster berries that weren’t fresh anymore. The redwood branches and candles remain, because they have life left in them, at least for today. And the faux tree will last as long as I want it to, which is, until I have some mental space to give to it.

For now, I have too many other projects going on. Writing thank-you letters to a few grandchildren, cooking soup for our women’s book group this week, and maybe a two hour trip to see my niece — just in this week.

At the same time, I am working on new habits. For more than a week now, I have taken a walk every day, outdoors, not on the treadmill. This was the scene on the bike path less than a week ago; can you see the leaves falling?

Since then we got a big dumping of rain, and the leaves aren’t so pretty anymore. One day I walked my old two-mile loop and it was quite delicious, because everything — the trees and earth and grass, and especially the air — was wet and refreshing and not cold. I wore my rain jacket and was prepared for a sprinkle, but when I was still ten minutes from home I got fairly drenched. Excitement like this has been adding to my general winter happiness.

Even before I read an encouraging article about the value of memorizing things, I had been planning to renew my effort in the coming year to learn some Psalms and possibly other poems by heart. “The Great Forgetting,” by Ruth Gaskovski, about “How ‘critical thinking’ and outsourcing of memory are withering culture, and how to turn the tide,” is giving me a boost.

Last year — or even before? — I had started to memorize Psalm 90 and 91 (89 and 90 in the Septuagint), and then lost my focus. This year, so far, I have noticed how my memorizing project coordinates nicely with my improved walking habits. I have the psalms written on 3×5 cards and can practice them as I stroll along — unless it’s one of those rainy days.

Here are the first few verses I am working on:

Psalm 89 — A Prayer of Moses, the man of God

Lord, Thou hast been our refuge in generation and generation.

Before the mountains came to be and the earth was formed and the world,
even from everlasting to everlasting Thou art.

Turn not man away unto lowliness; yea, Thou hast said: Turn back, ye sons of men.

For a thousand years in Thine eyes, O Lord, are but as yesterday that is past,
and as a watch in the night.

Things of no account shall their years be; in the morning like grass shall man pass away.

In the morning shall he bloom and pass away; in the evening shall he fall
and grow withered and dry.

The poetry of these verses, the rhythm of their music and the depth of meaning, as I tell them to myself phrase by phrase, is so beautiful to my mind and heart. Glory to God!

The Prophet Moses