Tag Archives: Japanese anemone

Balmy with bread and honey.

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The sun was hot on my back as I reached up on the trellis to gather the dried Painted Lady runner beans. I separated the beans from the vines and carried loads of still vigorous leafy matter to the green bin. After a while the sun went behind the pine tree, but the balminess hung on.

It was quite a workout climbing up and balancing on the planter box, hauling vines back over the fence from the neighbor’s yard where they always wander. So when I had stashed a five gallon bucket full of bean pods into the garage, I leaned back in my orange plastic Adirondack chair (stained from being out in the weather for years) that I’d moved away from the bean corner, and drank a can of sparkling water.

I was intensely aware of my riches. This morning I had picked another several dozen feijoas, and we put them and what remained from the last week into the dehydrator. Reading ideas for how to use a heavy crop, I learned that people do eat the skins. So I tried a few with their skins on and they are nice that way. The skins are a little more tart than the flesh, but they add another layer of complexity to the overall flavor, and a little crunch. The neighbor’s redwood tree looms over my pineapple guava, so that the dried and prickly twigs that fall are always interspersed with the fruit, and usually tangled in my hair when I come inside from picking.

Below, parsley, which I was prepping to put into the Parsley-Tarragon Salsa Verde, and in which I was exulting. When I have a good sized parsley patch it feels like the most versatile resource. Plus the swallowtails love it!

tarragon

Last year I never got around to harvesting those runner beans until they had been rained on a few times and ruined. So it felt good to have put them under cover, and also to not let the feijoas go to waste. I had made that extra batch of salsa before the tarragon went into dormancy. I could sit back and relax, and just be in the garden. The awareness of my wealth brought to mind the king who was in his counting house, counting out his money, the queen in the parlor, eating bread and honey, and the maid in the garden getting her nose bitten off.

Well, I was the king, taking account of my bounty. But in the garden. And the queen, feasting on the most satisfying and sweet soul food — in the garden. Some days I hang the laundry in the sun, as does the maid, but that also makes me feel rich.

The king was in the counting house,
Counting out his money.
The queen was in the parlor,
Eating bread and honey.
The maid was in the garden,
Hanging out the clothes,
When along came a blackbird,
And snipped off her nose.

-Sing a Song of Sixpence

The first of the newer white Japanese anemones buds opened today, October 16! I’d have to say I’m rich with anemones at this point. The pincushion flower plants that I cut down to stubs and moved to the planter boxes have started blooming again amongst the basil that also won’t stop.

Back to the feijoas:

Bea blended up some pulp with an apple to make fruit leather, and I sliced the rest with the skin on. Now all of that experimental goodness is in process in the dehydrator, and filling the garage with its aroma.

One last thing to illustrate my brimming treasure stores: The rudbeckia is still blooming!! It has been showing off its gold since May 22, and I expect it will go another week at least, which will add up to five months of opulence. Not only are its flowers still lovely, but the leaves are turning all purply and mottled at the end of the season, a patina of autumn. Because it sits close to the street for everyone to see as they drive by, it’s the part of my abundance that gets shared with the most people. I hope it might cause some of them to say, Glory to God for His most generous gifts!

The feijoas are falling.

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I had in mind to do a bit of gardening today, but since it is hot, I’d need to do it early. Early came and went, and even the shady places I had planned to work with my little trowel were not shady enough. Typically our shady places are much cooler than in the full sun, but not this week.

So I just went out and wandered a little while eating a popsicle, and saw that dozens of pineapple guavas had dropped on the ground. That means that they are ripe. So I fetched a bowl from the kitchen and crawled around to gather them — four pounds!

The little squash in the photo above is the only and stunted kabocha that resulted from my first attempt. Next year maybe I will try them again, but in the front yard instead of butternuts. I brought in three of the latter whose stems were not green any longer. After I trimmed off the portions of the long squash vines that are not bearing fruits, I can see spaces into which to insert the starts of leafy greens that I’ve had in the greenhouse.

The fruits of the arbutus (Strawberry Tree) have also been falling for some time, but they usually are overripe before that happens. Right now the bush is covered with ripening fruits, flowers for next year, and pine needles that have fallen — currently including a whole stem of them — as they do on everything that grows on that side of the yard. If I were a terribly tidy sort of gardener I’d need to spend an hour every day picking off the needles of the constantly shedding Canary Island Pine.

I showed Bea how I eat the feijoas/pineapple guavas, and she and I stood around for awhile savoring these exotic gift of late summer.  It’s 101 degrees as I type, and I’m thinking this fruit would be nice about now blended with coconut water and poured over ice…. But I’m headed to Vespers, so I’m glad to see that as to temperature, tomorrow promises to be a similar day in which to enjoy such a drink!

Sunday afternoon…

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At church we had quite a few people received into the catechumenate before Liturgy. Of them, I had only met one family before, and I sat with them at the agape meal afterward. I had mistakenly thought it was my turn to work in the bookstore right off the dining hall; when I found out I had the “day off,” I switched gears, and got in line for a plate of chicken and rice and vegetables.

First I sat with the new family, and another catechumen joined us, and they told stories about how they got to this place in their life where they have committed to follow the Orthodox path. A couple more people stopped by to chat and share news. What is the best news? We suddenly have at least three families expecting babies!

After that conversation broke up, I moved out to the patio and joined another table of friends, and caught up a little bit on their lives. Twenty years ago one of those women and I had been in the same catechumen class together. Last spring she learned through a series of freak events — which could only be considered providential — that she had a serious genetic heart defect, and within a few weeks had open heart surgery to correct the problems that had developed without her being aware. She is on the mend now, and I was grateful to sit there by her as we rejoiced together in her survival, and in our very existence.

When I finally came home, I watered the Italian Silver Rib Chard seeds I’d planted in the ground on Friday evening, in a place where plenty of morning and midday sun will shine on them and give them a good start in the next weeks. Saturday I seeded parsley and other greens into 4-inch pots in the greenhouse. I don’t want to transplant them into the ground until I have cut down the asparagus jungle; right now it would shade that area too much.

I drank tea, and read a few poems, and articles about poetry. I’ve been sitting here just being thankful for poetry, and how happy it makes me to read poems that I like. I really want to memorize more of my favorites, including Psalms, though I find it really challenging these days.

At this point I ought to insert a short poem. Instead, I will show you the new Monarch caterpillar I discovered, ten feet or more away from where the first one disappeared.

We are pretty sure the first one didn’t crawl across the wood mulch that far to find this relatively healthy patch of leaves to munch on. So this is Caterpillar #2, and he was still there ten minutes ago when I went out to check on him; he seems to be making himself into a J shape, which is what they do before forming the chrysalis.

One of the Narrow-Leaf plants has managed to make a few narrow seed pods, in spite of the severe aphid damage. I hope they develop to the point of splitting open to reveal the fluffy white contents.

The Japanese anemones I planted not long ago are starting to bloom. In the front garden I have deep pink ones. They seem very robust, but they are afflicted with powdery mildew, poor things. And many of the flowers have fewer petals than is normal, or they are differently arranged — hmmm.

While I was out checking on the caterpillar, I snacked on a few fruits of the Arbutus unedo, known as the “Strawberry Tree.”

This year I’m not going to the mountains in late summer the way I usually do, so I have more time to enjoy the garden — and pay better attention to it. Figs are starting to ripen, and the basil crop is abundant. Time to make pesto!

Today was a lovely warm day, with sunshine. Now it’s evening, and nearly the eve of September. Good-bye to August!

Rain on zinnias, seeds on crackers.

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It was hard to keep up with myself last week, and with all the friends, projects and tasks that fill my life to overflowing. I guess I was somewhat playing catch-up after my mountain retreat the previous week. The garden got gently rained on three times that last week of September, which is unusual. Combined with fog on other days, the dampness caused mildew in the planter boxes, but mostly the lower leaves of the tall zinnias have been affected.

When I noticed the Japanese anemones looking better than ever, it occurred to me to plant a few more this fall, maybe some pale pink ones — but I corrected my impulsivity in time, and won’t be taking on one more project, what with so many others unfinished. A more reasonable goal would be to try to take better care of the anemones I have, and see if they can be encouraged to be taller and more robust. It’s a sign of their middling health, that they do not ever spread and multiply, and their flowers are few and small.

The sneezeweed I grow in a pot looks as well as it ever has. I bought it a few years ago at a native plant nursery, because I love the mountain versions of the flower. I put it in a pot so I could be sure to water it enough; the irrigation settings for most of my garden are set for drought-tolerant plants, and sneezeweed is not one of those. My type is pretty plain, or at least monochromatic, compared to the mountain ones.

In search of fancier kinds, a few months ago I browsed sneezeweeds online for quite a while, and ordered seeds for this one, Purple-Headed. When I am looking at seed catalogs or even plants in nurseries, all the options seem so do-able and desirable. But once the time comes to get on with the actual work of planting… well, I literally drag my feet. So who knows what will happen with these seeds…

I used my sourdough starter twice last week, first to make a large pan loaf of seeded wheat-and-spelt bread. This is the recipe I have been trying to perfect, but perfection hasn’t happened yet. I may have to pause the sourdough project while I branch out and reach back, to other breads I have made or have wanted to try, like chocolate bread, Indian flatbreads, and applesauce rye.

Buttery Sourdough Crackers was a satisfying recipe that used a bit of starter. This picture shows the dough as it was resting overnight, along with leaves of the lemon verbena that I am drying, after pruning my plant for the first time ever.

I used this recipe for: Rustic Sourdough Butter Crackers as my jumping off place, substituting half dark rye flour, and adding sesame seeds to one half, and poppy seeds to the other. I baked them a lot longer than the recipe called for. The resulting crackers are nice and crispy and easy to eat. The butter ingredient plus the sourdough tang is a great combination.

My friend Lucy and I took another one of our monthly walks, up in the hills again but to a park she hadn’t been to before. It’s mostly very brown up there now, but the poison oak is making red splashes in the landscape. And my old friend tarweed!

The Seek app tells me this is not either of the species I saw on my way up the mountain last month, but Hayfield Tarweed. And it seems to come in white or yellow versions, in one case growing side by side:

The third online Beowulf class was this week, and I spent more than two happy hours in the company of the most delightful teachers, Richard Rohlin and Jonathan Pageau. They both love the subject, and Richard is definitely a Beowulf scholar from way back. I will have to at least quote a couple of lines from the poem here eventually, though it seems that unlike me, most people I’ve talked to got an introduction to Beowulf in school. So you may already be more familiar with the story than I.

Apple orchard where I go.

At the end of the week, I remembered: apples! It’s time to make a trip my favorite apple ranch, and see which of their 30+ varieties is available now. I squeezed it in on Saturday afternoon, and added a stop at a nursery out that way, hoping they would have starts of some kind of leafy greens I could tuck into spaces in the planter boxes after I take out zucchini and tomatoes and eggplant. They did!

So here in the back of my car is a mix of apples Empire, Jonathan and Macintosh; and six packs of Swiss chard and collards. I do have chard growing right now, but I think I need more. And I wasn’t able to get collards started from seed in August.

One more glad sighting of late summer I want to share, is this half wine barrel that was unplanted through last winter:

When I put in some snapdragon plants in late spring, I noticed a couple of tiny mystery plants that didn’t look like weeds, so I left them undisturbed. Now everything has filled out and I find that I have beautiful Thai basil and tropical sage complementing the snaps. Gardens are ever surprising.

Happy October!