Tag Archives: zinnias

Fresh crackers and paint.

family, food and cooking, my garden, work, , , ,
March 2017

It’s an exciting week for me, because many dinged-up walls and doors in my house are being painted, along with the black metal stair railings. These were set to be done several years ago, before the workers were interrupted by wildfires, then by covid. When normality returned, I didn’t seem to have the wherewithal to get started again. But now my new handyman James, a friend from church, is doing the work. During son Pathfinder’s visit over the weekend I was encouraged just to have him to talk with about colors. Now things will be so lovely and clean.

Pathfinder and I did a satisfying amount of work in 24 hours, including a big tidying-up of my utility yard and all the scraps of wood I keep there, which I turn into kindling. There are always pieces that are too long for my stove and need sawing up, and I don’t want to use a power saw; he took care of those fast. He even cut my old manzanita stump into a few pieces to take home for his own wood stove, because he heard that it burns nice and hot, and wants to find out.

We cleaned the fountain together, and Pathfinder leveled it perfectly afterward. The easy way to drain the green water from it is by siphoning it out with a garden hose, but that takes two people to manage.

It’s has been wanting a good clean-up for months, and I had been hoping for this family assist. We managed to do all the tasks before the rain began, which was the morning that he left.

Today it poured, then the sun came out, then the wind blew rain in again. Between downpours I was able to go out twice and gather fallen pine needles enough to fill the big green bin for trash pickup tomorrow. The zinnias watched me with their bright faces as I walked by, so I came back and picked another bouquet of them. These wet blooms don’t last as long as the sun-washed ones, but they are cheery as long as they do. My fingers were all wrinkly when I finally came indoors again, because everything I’d been handling was sopping.

While picking up blankets of pine needles off my plants, I discovered that the Sweet Box, Sarcococca, has shiny red berries on it. I haven’t been impressed with the scent of that shrub’s flowers — it isn’t very potent. But these berries are lovely.

The flax crackers I was working on last week turned out pretty good. I had to leave them in the dehydrator about 28 hours. They need more salt and fewer pumpkin seeds, in my opinion, but I’m enjoying them, and gave some away. I’ll make a new batch soon, with improvements, and eventually will share the recipe here.

Today I made two kinds of soup with various leftovers in the fridge, and I like them both as well. Soup and crackers are just the thing for rainy November days.

My tree is stressed and so am I.

my garden, summer, , , , , ,

The fig tree towering over my garden is loaded with fruit — but wait, what is wrong here? The figs are turning purple while they are still very small; they stay hard, they stay small, and they fall on the ground. You can see in the photo below how they don’t have enough water content to droop at all, and the sign of a ripening fig is that it droops more and more on its stem until it is hanging quite limp and juicy and sweet. I am distressed about the situation, but from what I’m reading the tree has been stressed. And I think I know why.

My wonderful new landscaper who turned out to be not so wonderful, adjusted my irrigation settings several weeks ago, and since then I’ve been concerned about a few plants that don’t look happy. When I checked the control box it appeared that everything was horribly mixed up, but I didn’t trust myself to understand it, so I had my neighbor down to look at the setup, and between us we got it straightened out.

In the meantime the poor tree was very thirsty. Evidently when this happens the tree itself doesn’t show signs of stress, but it neglects the fruit ripening process. I have followed advice online to remove the smallest fruits at the ends of the branches, farthest from the tree; many of these were only 1-2 centimeters in diameter and probably would not have ripened before the frost anyway. Removing them lets the tree pour more energy into the larger fruit, and I hope at least some of them will ripen. I gave the tree a deep watering with the hose, too.

My newest orchid.

We’ve been having nice warm weather for a week or so, but at this moment it is raining. This afternoon the sun was shining and I had a young family for lunch. The children played in the garden and the playhouse, arranging salads on the little plastic plates. They’d collected snippets of parsley, mints, cherry tomatoes, rosemary, lavender, and even kale, and to top it off, asked me to cut up a lemon for them to squeeze over. They liked their salads better before the addition of lemon.

I showed them this bird’s nest that I found in the fig tree. It doesn’t look as though any baby birds hatched in it. It is very clean, and a unique building project. I see familiar materials from close by: cast-off garden twine (two types), needles from the Canary Island Pine, long Bermuda grass stems, and even dried nigella flowers. The strangest element, and not something I’ve seen outside here, is steel wool, forming the center of the bottom.

At least half the garden is in transition and upheaval right now; I will soon have all of the irises out and will amend the soil in several places before I put those back, or install the many new plants I have, or transplant old ones to an environment with more suitable amounts of sun.

milkweed

The tarragon has flowers! That was a surprise; it’s evidently a bigger plant than I can make use of anymore. It will go dormant soon…

Tarragon flowers

I finally took the time to cut zinnias and bring bouquets into the house, for the sake of my lunch guests. They are like much of my backyard garden now, not getting as much sun as they used to, and they are leggy — but plenty productive. Yesterday I was able to spend quite a while, in the 90-degree heat, tidying up all over the place, so I feel better about the stuff that remains undone. And there are still twelve days left of September ❤

Weeks and weeks of homebody bliss.

feasts, home, my garden, wildflowers, , , , , , , ,

I’ve been home from my travels more than two weeks already, and before any more trips loom on the horizon, I have eight more weeks of homebody bliss remaining. It’s still high summer, when the days –or at least, the afternoons — are of the warm sort that energize and call me to the garden. This is the greatest good fortune. Glory to God, that I have a garden. Glory to God!

Stinking Chamomile

Other things besides the garden have helped to fill my days, and are filling my calendar into the near future. When I am home, I can be a host, and have guests! My house is happy when extra people are enjoying its spaces, and feeling the breezes blow through. That’s happened twice already in the last two weeks, and I’m expecting it to happen more.

When guests come in the summertime, they can stroll about the garden and pick a plum, and younger guests can play in the playhouse. The last one who did that made a soup entirely of tarragon and fountain water, and then dumped it into the fountain. Speaking of the fountain, when I am home I can keep it running, and keep it clean. It’s not very cheery to have a fountain turned off.

Lesser Goldfinch – internet photo

The birds are enjoying the summer. I hadn’t noticed the goldfinches much in the last couple of years, but this week they have been frolicking around the fountain; they seem to have plenty of time to play, probably because they’re not burning so many calories to keep warm. Today the house finches came along to drink and bathe as well. And one goldfinch made a side trip to the arbor, to perch on a long wisteria runner that was reaching out horizontally. He made short and quick jumps down toward the tip, which dropped a couple of inches in elevation with each jump, pecking at the buds, or maybe at insects, until he was at some critical point, after which I suppose he’d have found himself upside down if he’d held on — so he flew away.

Spanish Clover

It was a wet spring here, and the early summer was cool, but now everything not in watered gardens is crisping up. I took my friend to one of my favorite parks for an easy hike, but it was so dry that the trail in many places had deep and wide cracks that made walking difficult, even in my boots. I guess I’d never been there at this time of year before? It did smell good out there, I must admit, and amid the crackling grasses we saw lots of wildflowers — first, masses of Yellow Star-Thistle, Centaurea solstitialis, an invasive plant that is in bloom now.

Yellow Star-Thistle

Star-Thistle is one of the many invasives that one can learn about on the website of the California Invasive Plants Council website, which I only just discovered. I think I’ll like to return there. The website of Yosemite National Park also features articles about such plants locally, and one of them tells about the great lengths different agencies go to, to control what is in California considered a weed. A Wikipedia article is unclear about whether the star-thistle is considered noxious in six or in 23 of the U.S. states where it is present. Are you my U.S. readers familiar with it? Evidently the purple star thistle is essentially the same thing, except for the color.

Star Thistle

The pennyroyal that amazed me at Tomales Bay also grew along the path in less spectacular displays; and Spanish Clover, and Stinking Chamomile (Anthemis cotula), photo above. That chamomile was new to me; Gwen sniffed it and said that indeed it did not smell good.

Domesticated and not-stinky chamomile is growing in my planter box, just one specimen that sprouted from the old seeds I threw in there before I went to Greece. I should plant it every year, it is so cheery.

Last week we celebrated the Procession of the Cross, and the festal cross stayed in the middle of the temple until the Forefeast of Transfiguration. Now we will celebrate Transfiguration for about a week until the Leavetaking of Transfiguration which is the day before we celebrate Dormition (Assumption) of the Theotokos in the middle of the month. I love the way the calendar anchors me to the church, and reveals the abundance of saints and events who fill the year with the glory of God.

Before the service, before all the fruit had arrived.

As usual we brought baskets of fruit, and after Liturgy processed through the vineyard singing. It wasn’t as prickly as the trail I walked on last week, but it required careful stepping around grape prunings and blackberry brambles.

I pruned the lavender this week, and set it aside to take to a friend so she can add it to the straw in her chicken coop, to sweeten up the atmosphere:

A different friend came for lunch, and we were able to eat outside on the patio, after a leisurely tour of the garden. It was just warm enough to thoroughly relax, but not to wilt. I added snips of my parsley and tarragon to the salad we made together. I could have put a few calendula petals in as well, but I didn’t think of that.

This has been a pretty unfocused ramble, I’m afraid, so rambling that I don’t know how to sign off. So, let’s just pretend we were talking together next to my planter boxes, and looking at the zinnias, and then I went into the house and didn’t come back.

But I will return eventually!