Tag Archives: Teucrium chamaedrys

Busy, with mouse.

bees, food and cooking, my garden, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Getting things done. It’s so much fun to check off a few boxes on my “After Greece” list. One of the tasks was to get the fountain leveled. Just before the stonemason was going to come to do that, the pump motor died; I’m glad that happened just before, not after, the leveling. The man who always cleans my fountain when I let it turn green, about once a year, got me a new motor and installed it while I was out one afternoon. That was easy! The stonemason leveled it last night, and gave it a more secure brick-and-mortar base.

I returned from Greece two weeks ago but haven’t got back in the cooking groove. Part of the reason is, I hadn’t made it to the store to buy supplies, and was trying to assemble meals with whatever I could find in the cupboards and freezer. This morning I took my one onion, a can of tomatoes, a small container of mixed sauteed vegetables I’d stored in the freezer, and my home-grown fava beans also stored in the freezer, and made a really nice soup. “Before Greece” I’d roasted all the peeled garlic cloves in the fridge, which was a giant bag — I threw a bunch of those in, too. The soup was good hot, and also cold, as I found out later when the day had warmed up and it didn’t seem necessary to warm up dinner as well.

Recently I decided I wanted to mulch my vegetable plantings with rice straw the way I did ten years ago. So this morning I drove to the feed store where I hadn’t been since then, and was pleased to park next to the shed where baby chicks were peeping. While waiting for the bale to get loaded in the back of my Subaru, I noticed that they had not only rice straw, but rye, wheat and teff as well. The fibers of the teff straw were different from all the others, appearing to be fine and fluffy; I’d like to try that for mulch sometime.

In the past it was a hassle to keep the straw bale dry in the winter and at the same time prevent the rats from bedding down in it and chewing on the tarp that was protecting it, so I thought I’d keep it in the garage this time. Problem was, there was no space for it, unless I would get rid of the plastic storage bins that have been piling up in there as I empty them one by one. So I took them all out and put a notice on our parish email list asking for takers.

My goddaughter Esther came over midafternoon to get some lavender to use in cosmetics. I loaded her bag with rosemary, oregano, and yerba buena herb as well. She said that everything she cooks, if she puts oregano in it, it tastes better. And she’s not even Greek!

I have several types of English lavender growing here; she thought the small, darker purple blooms had the nicest scent, so I made her a couple of bundles of those stems only.

While she was still here, another parishioner stopped by to get some bins. She took almost all of them, and later another person took the remainder.

After the first batch of bins was gone, Esther and I were still standing in the driveway when I saw a field mouse run past. What? At that time of day one doesn’t expect to see such a critter, and I actually haven’t seen a mouse around here in ages, at any time of day, though we are always battling rats that come up from the creek. I could only guess that the mouse had been inside the bale of straw. Uh-oh. Now I am not sure about storing it in the garage.

Son Pathfinder has a new house, with new-to-him plants scattered around it. So he texted me a photo of one of them, wondering if I knew what it was. I had seen an almost identical one on my neighborhood walk the other day, but my Seek app couldn’t identify it correctly. We kept looking up plants and trading ideas back and forth for an hour via text (we’re very slow texters), and finally figured out that it is a yucca: “The flowers are edible and have a peppery flavor. Fruits can be roasted or dried and are sweet and fig-like.”

Here, the bees are finding the teucrium to be full of their favorite sweet food.
And with that I will say good-bye for now.

 

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.

The vitality of insects and my heart.

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We can only be said to be alive in those moments
when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.
-Thornton Wilder

I’m home from my travels, and have been wandering about the garden to see what has changed in the last three weeks. My housemate Susan watered all the pots through a heat wave, Alejandro staked sunflowers and trimmed perennials, and my neighbor Gary trained the pumpkin vines to the trellis.

Mylitta Crescent

When I departed in late May, the bumblebees were the dominant buzzers among the flowers, but once the lavender and the germander opened, the honeybees returned. They are very alive, diligently about their business, and not ignoring the salvia, either. This gray bee likes the echinacea blooms that are just now available for nectar refreshment.

Hyssop, chamomile, basil and parsley are making a jungle of buds and blooms in the vegetable box out back. I’ve been waiting for the hyssop to do something for two years, while it took up a large space in that planter. It is famous as a bee plant. When I see bees acting like this one below, it makes me want to grow hyssop again… but not in the planter next time:

This Hyssopus officinalis is not the anise hyssop that I grew in my previous landscape, which “is neither anise (Pimpinella anisum) nor hyssop (Hyssopus officinalis),” but Agastache foeniculum. But they are both members of the mint family, and bees appear equally devoted to them.

The insects focus intently on what gifts they are given from the Creator, and I have been bowled-over conscious of my own treasures, during my travels. The grandchildren in Colorado, and their parents trying to keep up, impressed me with their youthful vitality, compared with Grandma, who liked to sit on the deck, play Bananagrams, take leisurely walks… and never once jumped on the trampoline with them.

While in Idaho I was acutely aware of what treasures my friends Rosemary and Jacob are. Being with them is like swimming in a refreshing, nectar-rich pool of friendship.

We worked to identify various plants on their property, and found dewberries, thimbleberries, and wineberries; wild roses are everywhere, and white spirea. Along the country road where we walked, these Baker Mariposa Lilies dotted the foliage on the forest floor. Every one was dotted itself with one or more insects as conscious as an insect can be of its sweet treasure.

I think Jacob and Rosemary would agree with me that it is the Lord who has given us this prized possession that we hold as a threesome, love that is an overflow of the Holy Trinity, from whom all life emanates.

My friends are my estate. Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them. They tell me those who were poor early have different views of gold. I don’t know how that is. God is not so wary as we, else He would give us no friends lest we forget Him.  –Emily Dickinson

I realize now that my aliveness is of a different sort from bees and children. My heart was continuing to sing and dance with thankfulness while my body sat quietly on airplanes for hours yesterday. So many treasures and the consciousness of them, and riches waiting for me when I arrive home… All this activity is making me sleepy like a toddler. Must be naptime!

Clouds and bees and international beans.

my garden, nature, , , , , ,

The clouds were beautiful this morning,
perhaps mainly in their strangeness for midsummer,
but in themselves, too.

I saw a bird flying in the light shining through, and then it “flew away” and was gone. A few raindrops fell on my head, but soon all cleared and it was sunny and warm, the kind of summer day that brought a blanket of sleepiness to lay over me, and pretty much forced me to lie on my bed, to fall asleep after reading Wendell Berry.

But before that, I was in the garden pushing around among the leaves of the pole beans to discover that the Spanish Musica are getting big! They are flattish green beans. A friend and I ate raw the only two that seemed too big to leave hanging… but afterward I thought that perhaps I should have let them go a little longer, to see just how big they might get.

My bean project has become an international event, what with Oregon Blue Lakes, Spanish Musica, and now Japanese beetles arriving on the scene. 😦

I find it the hardest thing to be in the garden and not try to take more pictures of bees! I never think about the time it will take to sort and crop and organize all those shots… I will never be known for my clean floors, but maybe someone will appreciate my legacy of bee photos.

I kneeled on the walkway in front to get close to the humming action, and marveled at the number of bees working close together. They are camouflaged among the blooms that have faded, so in the photo below I zoomed in and circled the ones I could make out.

And here is a wider view of where I sat, between the hedges of germander that is the species Teucrium chamaedrys. If total strangers weren’t walking by to see me, I would be tempted to stretch out on the warm pavers to revel at leisure and more intimately in all the sweet and flowery humming!

In the back garden, they are at the lavender, yarrow, lambs ears…

And on the oregano!

 

When the bees are happy in my garden, I feel that at least something is right in the world, and I’m humbled to be a participant.

The day is done now, it’s actually cold, and dark. The honeymakers have stopped working for a few hours. I will sleep, too, and be glad to see you again tomorrow, my little bee friends.