Digging In

Untwisting

2010-07-29T00:56:00.008-05:00

I've learned a few things in recent days.

First among these, I am coming to understand what it means to carry an injury to one's spine. It turns out that I have some not insignificant issues with a few discs in my neck which are potentially problematic (most inevitably, without proper care), but manageable, nonetheless. Neck like an oak tree (on fire), so I've been told. I have, perhaps, been underestimating the effects of this on my general state of well-being, while routine tasks such as doing the dishes, lifting a few pounds, normal movement, sitting, sleeping, seeing, swallowing, breathing, etc. have become increasingly difficult. Considering the relationship of vertebrae to the central nervous system, I am not particularly surprised--albeit relieved--to find that I am feeling much, much calmer and more lucid after only a few adjustments. I'm on deck for three per week during the next month--an aggressive schedule, to be sure, but this new person I'm seeing is not messing around. For the first time in many years I feel the beginning of a much needed and long overdue change in my body, and in the most essential element of my continuing existence as homo sapiens. It would be a bit foolish to say that I had no idea, but I have to wonder--as the urge for smoke and drink floats away, as I open my chest and stand firmly on my two feet--how in the dark I have been, for quite some time. The oak is mighty, but when it breaks, it breaks for good. To be more of the willow, to bend and to grow again, is my design...

The power of transformation. In a garden it is nearly impossible not to experience this, as I had the pleasure of being reminded this evening, after a day which went from good (I can drop my head back freely!) to worse (tight grip overtaking skull) and back again... On my arrival home I noticed that one of the pumpkins I planted with a friend last week, if only as a gesture of unyielding hope, was up and in the world. Peppers and tomatoes grow riper daily, on plants which have exceeded my expectations by so far that I am truly humbled by their presence. Here and there, flowers continue to open portals of color, coaxing my greyed matter into a more vibrant state. This yard is actually rather amazing, in the number and variety of plants growing in it, and in the gentle way it has wooed me, despite my reluctance to give it my whole heart. The neighbor(hood)'s cat, Vishnu--who I'd been calling Haiku--climbs over the fence to greet me as I wander the grounds, finding new growth at every turn. By contrast to the 120 acres of land I grew up on, this smaller scale requires a somewhat tighter focus...With macro lens (oh how I wish!) there are so many small wonders to behold...

Tonight I witnessed something which I suspect few among you have seen. I was just about to plant a few cast-off globe thistles when a trumpet of white caught my attention. I grabbed my camera and took this shot:

...and I missed the next one, because before I was able to think about what I was seeing, the blossom gave a gentle twist and opened, to my surprise...

and then, another...

and was fully open within moments:

Datura: goddess of the garden, unfurling herself in twilight to rival the moon, wielding dreams as swords to cut through the mists of time, unwinding...

Also known as Jimsonweed, erroneously as Moonflower, and more commonly as Loveapple, Daturas are members of the Solanaceae family, so potato beetles love 'em:

In the few minutes I spent taking a few photos of this lovely plant, the blossom which had only just opened began to fold...

...and in the softening whiteness, this momentary vision...

These flowers close as quickly as they open, though at the moment my Datura--planted only two short months ago and already big as a forest cat--is covered with fat green pods, ready to burst. It's possible I might catch another opening, but I've had enough experience with this sort of thing to know that it's no coincidence, when a flower spirals open before your very eyes... This is a plant of ancient wisdom and shamanic tradition, hallucinogenic dreams and love potions, not one to be taken lightly. I've never grown one before, but have always admired them, and now that we've become acquainted it's time I carry myself off to bed, to sleep, perchance to dream...

Sheets to the Wind

2010-07-25T12:53:00.001-05:00

So I'm watching this guy create a collapsing tower and expanding flower out of a single sheet, with intricate and intimate precision, the culmination of hours upon hours of carefully planned creases and in-creases, while I'm lying on the sofa trying to figure out how I can fish a radish out of my Bloody Mary with one chopstick. Yep, that sounds about right. As I found out, it is not necessary to be drunk for this to be difficult, or for one to fall into deep cosmic love with a piece of folded paper... If one of your favorite pastimes as a kid was graph paper, or cloud-busting, or you've ever been turned on by sculpture, or if you find yourself laid up or needing to lie down for an hour, you might enjoy this little documentary titled "Between the Folds". Those of you who are already doing origami mathematics over your morning bowl of Alpha-bits might find this old hat, and unfortunately the narration is both dull and annoying, but there are some paper wonders in this film (as well as a bit of insight on Chopin and Rachmaninoff), a worthwhile diversion.

I could so totally fold that.

Good News and Bad News, and Good News

2010-07-23T18:45:00.002-05:00

So the good news is that earlier this week (with a hand from a friend, much appreciated) I finally got that big blue tarp that's been occupying the better part of my backyard--in one way or another, for the past three months--folded up and back in the garage, and today I got in touch with an ass-kicking "chiropractor" who I believe will be able to help me out, for real, with some chronic body issues. The bad news is that it appears I have been rather underestimating both the pain I've been in and the severity of my "neck" problems ("walking cranial mess", were the words she used, I think), and as a result my weekend plans to transform that big ol' pile of dirt into the northern hemisphere of my radiant garden have been reclassified from promising project into "ridiculous idea". So, looks like everything's going on ice for now...

The gardens up north are thriving this year, in the loving and capable hands of my mom and dad. It's a stellar summer for the curcurbits--zucchini and summer squashes, melons, cukes and winter squashes are thriving and full of fruit and blossoms. The tomatoes are looking good, too, and even the peppers and eggplant, which were just spindly little leggy buggers when they went in, are now bushy and full of flowers. The brassicas are lagging, but they should do just fine through the home stretch into the Fall, as things cool down, and even through frost. Loads of sweet corn is about where it should be this time of year, and the onions and potatoes look great. There's a super-happy patch of Calendula taking hold of the eastern border of the back garden, practically unstoppable now... Not so many peas and lettuces this year, after a late start, but there's time for more greens in the Fall. Carrots are going gangbusters and the rest of the roots are slowly chugging along. There's a beautiful, thick stand of Jerusalem artichokes at the western edge of the compost garden, and the patch of Russian comfrey at the opposite end is three feet high and rising, just a few short weeks after mom cut it down for the first time this season. Borage abounds, as usual, and some of the perennial herbs I put in last year and this Spring have developed into nice little communities. The old--I mean OLD, like at least 30 years--rhubarb that mom and dad split transplanted from the end of the asparagus bed to the northeast corner of the front garden is so big you wouldn't know it hadn't been there forever. All in all, a good year for growing and things are doing well. The bad news is, the good word has got out (perhaps spread by the baby rabbits who were born this Spring in last year's tomato patch...), and there's a plague of chipmunks who are, in relative terms at least, wreaking havoc.

My own gardens are doing sort of surprisingly well, too--tomatoes, peppers, broccoli and cabbages have quadrupled in size in the past two or three weeks, and I've got basil bushes with leaves so large and lovely I've been eating them like lettuce, in sandwiches. The frigging squirrels stripped away the onion bags and stole my few precious strawberries, but since I wasn't really expecting any fruit this year I guess I can deal with that. Still have flowers to plant and fencerows to fill in and various other things to tend to but that I will get to in due time. Now I'm going to fetch the Led Zeppelin from the basement, refill my cup, lie down on my shaggy rug of bliss for a very long time, and thank god for doctor's orders.

Jungle of Dreams

2010-07-22T18:48:00.001-05:00

Last night, a tiger sauntered through my greenness,
all grace and strength, within reach.

Today I have changed.

So few remain.

Travel In

2010-07-21T19:42:00.002-05:00

(skip it, 10 seconds in)

In The House!

2010-07-16T01:48:00.009-05:00

Bugging Out

2010-07-09T19:59:00.000-05:00

I propped the kitchen door open last night, while hauling a carload of old stuff (aging wines and meads, mostly, a lot of them forgotten: currant wine from a few years ago, chokecherry wine and cordial and mead, lilac mead, sage mead and beer...quite the assortment of delicacies) into my new place, and inadvertently welcomed a bunch of moths, mosquitoes and other bugs to my abode. One among them dropped itself into the space between the two halves of an open window, where I fished him out with a twist-tie:

I'd never seen a beetle like this one before--something akin to a Junebug but bigger, and golden, and much more relaxed--so I snapped a few photos while he waved his mandibles at me in an ever-so-slightly-intimidating way, all the while clinging steadfastly to his twisted and wiry mate, of which he did not let go even when I turned him out into the garden...turns out it's a Grapevine Beetle, I learned from the folks over at What's That Bug. Strangely enough, their featured bug for the month of July is a Japanese Beetle, which is only odd in that I encountered one just this afternoon, traversing the back of my neck as I sat at my desk...Pretty little thing, but not cut out for the cubicle life, so I carried it out to seek its fortune on the streets of Minneapolis...There's new life to be found everywhere...

Grand Unveiling

2010-07-07T19:58:00.001-05:00

I told myself: it will not sound the way I want it to; it will not feel the way I want it to. Not that I wasn't ready for it to, if only it would...I was nervous, not having played in a while, no longer so terribly bashful about it but still not much of an improviser, hoping I could ask him to play it for me, maybe...will I remember anything? Will his wife be around? Will he be kind? I don't care to do business with unkind persons.

The place was easy to find and almost too charming, a buttercup yellow cottage with prickly pears and mats of sedum nestled among the bright flowers in the yard, the liveliest place on the street. I rang the bell and stood for a moment or two on the doorstep, admiring the artful hand-stitched lace curtain hanging inside the red door, at which I was greeted by vivid-eyed older man who said, you must be...

It was covered by a patterned cloth, piled with books and papers, a vase of dried grasses with those shiny glass coin plants, a few framed photos. He had too little faith, he said, that email would actually work and I would show up at the time we'd arranged...As he moved everything aside, I surveyed the room, the color of a shallow ocean pool, a red Chinese lantern hanging from the ceiling, a tattered violin case in front of the painted brick fireplace, an old stuffed chair, piles of books and original artwork on the walls...Adjoining, a rich pink room full of antique furniture, bright oriental rugs, spacious and intimate, colorful, home...

And then, there it was: my piano.

It had been his daughter's, years ago, but neither he nor his wife play. He told me of finding it, of the technician (who probably hadn't changed his t-shirt in years, high on fumes...) who rebuilt it, offered something akin to direction and slipped off to another room, while I sat down to try my hand. One touch, maybe, was all it took...the sound was there, bright and open to the highest resonance...light and easy action, a little worn in, the way I like it...the lower register needs some work and could perhaps be bolder but is at least not too heavy, and in any case I didn't wail on the thing, I just played a few chords, a scale or two, let my fingers wander a bit...

I suppose he could see it was mine, strange fellow.

So, naturally, I signed my name and handed him a check. I don't know how well it will hold a tune, or if it can stand up to a serious pounding, but hell--the gorgeous case alone is worth the modest price. Honestly, I couldn't take my eyes off it. Sleek, graceful, simple, detailed...perfect.

The deal's not quite done, but with any luck my new piano will be sitting where I am now, in a week. Can't get here soon enough...

All I Need Is A Miracle

2010-07-07T01:19:00.000-05:00

Dear Lord, my existence has taken such a turn toward the pointless and mundane of late that it is nearly incomprehensible to me...This evening I found myself muttering over the virtues of various plates...porcelain rings, blue dots, tiny hand-painted stars...lost among the other crazy folk who wander the aisles of others' cast-offs in the hope of finding something vaguely familiar, seemingly needed, or modestly enchanting...I left, finally, with nothing.

Underwear on sale. Light bulbs, too many to choose...

Each day, it seems, is but another transaction, the exchange of goods for time. Conversation ranges from dull to idiotic. At work, slow fingers on a keyboard within earshot grate on my brain like a dog licking its balls...fingernails clipping, throats full of mucus, another weekend at the cabin, the weather...Enough already!!!

Out and about, I float from place to place, scarcely knowing why or what for, while passers-by present themselves in full costume, throwing a line here and there, oblivious to their own pathetic talents. Still frames, random candid cameo...children everywhere, everyone wearing their summer skins... It's peaceful, in a way, and fascinating, to observe...

But what of doing? I have undertaken a few haphazard projects, but all seem egg-washed by some grandiose superficiality, white-washing the fence, as it were... Of course, this is not the Way It Is, just how it feels, or maybe seems...

Over the past four days I have received no less than seven calls inviting me to experience a miracle, the one that I've been waiting for, the one I've been needing in my home and my body and my life... I guess I already missed one tonight, but apparently I've got another chance yet tomorrow morning. I'll be honest: some part of me was stirred by the idea, that maybe yes. But the rest of me was thinking, well, how much better is this going to get? Almost everything about my life for the past year, or more, or ever, has been a goddamn motherfucking miracle, if truth be told...

It's not surprising, is it? But it is amazing.

A few more photos this evening, after an afternoon that wound me around... I swear, who needs Opium when there is Nikon? There is also, of course, the whole Cosmos:

Beets Me (As If I Carrot All)

2010-07-06T00:05:00.000-05:00

I am beginning to think that the single most important element of our (CM's and mine, with my folks at their place) gardening experiments during the past few seasons was the addition of several types of root vegetables to the staple storage crops, which had primarily previously been focused on the good ol' Potatoes & Onions. By "storage" I mean those which can be stored for the winter without (blanching and bagging and) freezing, (boiling and peeling and) canning, pickling, drying, etc.--basically the ones you can stick in a dark cold place and leave alone for months on end and come back when you're hungry (or cleaning) to find them not only a) there but b) looking pretty good for their age and also c) (somewhat surprisingly) delicious.

Until two years ago, I had no idea I loved parsnips. After our first bumper crop, I went from eating maybe on average A parsnip a year to--during a time when I (of all people!) had lost not only my appetite but my recollection of which foods had ever appealed to me in the past--actually craving those inscrutable roots...there's really nothing quite like a parsnip, you find out after spending a good long winter trying to figure out what the hell to do with the next bag full of them. They keep like gangbusters (whatever that means) and adapt quite nicely to dishes in which you might not expect to find them, like stir-fries and curries, as well as being an indispensable friend to soups and pot roasts. Curried parsnip soup has become a favorite of mine, for the deep freeze...Sweet, rich, hearty, mellow and spicy, they're easy to grow and hard to get rid of, but only because they keep forever...

So anyway, here I am, in July, just now getting around to using the last of last year's parsnips, rutabagas, beets and carrots. What kind of gardener is thinking about--much less writing about--root vegetables in the tender young days of summer, when she should be enjoying peas and lettuces, if not tomatoes and cucumbers?? Well, the kind who left her roots in storage (at my folks' amazingly "naturally" temperature-controlled environment within the concrete walls of the old barn and shop) and then in the fridge for the better part of a year... The kind who is not afraid to see what will happen when you leave a beet in a bag for 10 times its actual lifespan, or to shave the whiskers off an old carrot, scrub the feller down and give it the old college try... The kind who believes in finding out for yourself just how long it really takes for something to go bad...

As it turns out, the carrots we pulled from the ground ten months ago are still bright and crisp, and still tastier than any you can buy in a store (not that I've bought any lately...). My beets, which I'll admit most non-beet-loving-persons would probably have just tossed without a second thought, upon peeling revealed themselves to be not only of firmest flesh but also sugar-sweet, much to my surprise (and I'll have you know I tasted each and every, raw). The dark reds (either Detroits or Early Wonders) were outstanding, the Chioggias quite passable and the Goldens merely edible (if in distress.). Knowing that we (novices) are capable of growing food which might carry us all the way through from one eating season to the next is actually a pretty big deal to me, considering all there is to consider...and after all this time, with my own "wanna be" garden months behind the rest of the growing world's, to be sustained by the promise of a seed planted long ago is (though nothing at all like a sea scallop) rather an exquisite delicacy. Yum for now...

I suppose you could say that the roots can take us full circle, if that's not too far out...

Wee Bit O' Whiplash

2010-07-05T02:01:00.002-05:00

Probably worth it, but my neck hurts like hell today, as do my shoulders, back, hips, cheeks and just about every other part... When in the hell did I turn into someone who's too old to be pulled behind a boat?? In a giant, inflatable reclining sofa???

Yet, still young enough to lead the charge off the dock and into the river for the Grand Finale...little brother, despite having a sustained a shoulder injury last weekend in an heroic frisbee (almost) recovery, proved a trusty accomplice, followed in short shrift by my two (it's not my swimsuit, but) dear sisters and (always at-the-ready) brother-in-law and by our gracious and hearty hosts, (who really have a totally kick-ass setup out there...). Thanks for making my night, you head-bobbers, you... One day, when I can snap pictures from my mind's eye (and my swimming memory), I will send you all a really beautiful postcard...

In the meantime, here are a few from my sidewalk:

unknown flower, with wasps

forget-me-not

aurora

bone growth

Happy Independence Day...

Fireworks are flashy, but

2010-07-03T12:49:00.001-05:00

Oh my, the moon was absolutely stunning last night... find it rising, tonight, wherever you might be...

The weather's been outstanding here this past week, hot and dry and sunny and practically perfect... enchanting breezy evenings under the waning moon... A welcome change from weeks of rain rain and more rain, and everything growing is loving it. Amazingly, all the tomatoes I transplanted last Sunday--and which I have not given a single drop of water all week!--have been standing tall in the heat, appearing not thirsty in the least... Peppers and cabbages, likewise, looking fine... I've killed some others over the past couple months, but my attitude for this gardening season is if there are any plants here that can't stand a bit of abuse and neglect, they may as well check out now. Anyone who makes the first cut might have a chance at getting a little more special attention, but I'm not going out of my way to help anybody along. (And there are some standouts, already...love 'em.) Anyway, they're all in need a deep drink soon, but there's no sense in scalding them at this point in the day, and in any case they're just going to have to wait a little longer. I've got a new cute suit, a soft white underbelly and a whole lot of sun(burn) headed my way today... Ciao.

Invitation to Resist

2010-07-01T20:17:00.000-05:00

While it is of course and always tremendously exciting to see a message with the subject PARTY!!! in one's mailbox, there is a certain--how shall I put this?--poetic pinch of (in)justice when the invitation which follows includes the singled-out and arguably overly emphatic phrase "Everyone remember - [My Name Here] STAYS ON HER CHAIN." So all right, it's not really the host's fault that I share the name of their adopted pet who happens also to be a mad runner, but I have to wonder if there might have been a way for this missive to be communicated to the potential guests in a way that could have been...oh, I don't know--less of a knife in my heart?

Nonetheless, I'm looking forward to an afternoon on the St. Croix with family, for a change. It's been a while since I spent any time at the homestead up north--rather strange at this time of year and recalling past summers--but even so I find my intentions turning homeward this weekend, toward my own little place... I guess that's good, and probably important. Creating a home on my own has been challenging, since I've always thought of home--as many of us do, and as is only natural, I suppose--as being a place with other people in it, something shared. Without that, I am finding, there must be found very different reasons for, well, almost everything. And if pretty much everything I'm doing here is more or less defined by what I want, the question I'm left trying to answer lately isn't "what do I want?" but "(why) does what I want matter?" It's been a big adjustment, and still is, although things are coming along... just yesterday, when I walked in the back door, I was surprised and not a little joyful at being met for the first time by the sweet, complex and unmistakable smell of home...

At the same time, I am estranged from the land for which I felt such passionate devotion a couple years ago, or forever, that I could speak of it only with love, hope and confidence. I am a wayward stranger, only, now. This too shall pass, I must presume, but at the moment and recently it's been hard for me to get there, to be there and not feel displaced or even somehow turned away, at times. If it's a switch my mind could throw, to cast some stretching summer light upon this rugged landscape, I (would hope I) would have turned it on a while ago... Sadly, it seems my chain doesn't quite reach that far. (But, as all of us should know by now, it's only for her own good.)

So anyway, as pathetic as all that is, it'll be good to have a couple unfettered days at "home" to take care of a few things, not the least among them myself. I can't say Independence Day has ever been particularly meaningful to me, in nationalistic terms, but it might be a good excuse to get my hands on some sparklers and spell disappearing words in the dark, raise a flag to the open sky and take a shot at some recreation. Also, with the tarp off now, there's a whole heap of work to do in the garden, so if anyone feels like getting dirty, sweaty, sunburned and sore this weekend, I've got a big ol' pile out back needing to be moved. Haha.

Enjoy yourselves--and don't go blowing anyone's fingers off!

Righteous Beans and Rice

2010-06-29T19:11:00.000-05:00

1 c brown basmati rice, cooked in 2 c water
1/2 green pepper, diced
1 med onion, diced
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can Muir Glen fire roasted tomatoes with green chiles
1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 cup (frozen) corn kernels
5 really large good or 9 lesser green olives, minced
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp ground cumin
2 tsp chili powder
salt to taste
1 tsp canola oil
3/4 c cheddar cheese, grated

Cook the rice in water. In a cast iron skillet or other pan, heat the oil, saute the onion, pepper, and garlic for a minute or two (a little bite to the peppers is nice), add spices and a generous shake of salt, saute for another couple minutes, add corn, beans and olives, saute and stir until seasoned through. Add tomatoes to rice, combine and add veggie mixture, mix thoroughly and stir in grated cheese. You shouldn't need anything else at this point, but makes a good side to fajitas. So good, really.

Aiming at off-grid...

2010-06-27T03:31:00.000-05:00

more, this-a-way

Like a Walk in the Rain

2010-06-25T23:04:00.001-05:00

Shuddering dark storms rolled over this evening, pouring heavy warm rains of the sort that make it hard not to want to shed one's clothes and get drenched right through... Two hours earlier it was almost too hot to sit outside, with the thick sun beating on my back, while earlier in the day I was caressed by a few gentle drops as I listened to the chimes of the clock tower playing--for no comprehensible reason, just after one--a few of what I thought were rather peculiar selections: Climb Every Mountain, naturally followed by The Sound of Music (at which I'll admit I welled up for just a second, even with the risk of no context), and then Unchained Melody (admitting nothing.)... One of those summer days.

So it's Friday night, and I'm walking with my umbrella, getting my pants all wet, wearing my running shoes today for the first time in a while (as if I'm going anywhere fast these days), puddles gushing in and over my toes, and I'm pretty content with all that but it crosses my mind that it's the sort of night that it might be nice to share a sip of something sweet with a good friend, perhaps have a bite, and let time wend its way... But, having passed up the opportunity, or worked past it possibly, to enjoy food and fire with family and friends, I'm here tonight with a homemade pizza, my giant sink full of dishes (it's a mystery, how a single person can go through so many spoons) the hum of the refrigerator and a quiet peace. Rains have come to smooth my paths and flatten my phlox, and with everything gleaming green in the cool evening air, I can hardly wish to be elsewhere.

I've not been much for words lately--written, spoken or otherwise. Perhaps it's the change in season, but whatever the reason, I have instead turned some part of my attention toward a succession of self-portraits, a sort of paint by number (10...seconds) if you will--of which you will see nothing here, by the way--by which I hope to learn a little something about how to photograph persons, with the aim of being able, in some modest way, to paint those who are dear to me, as I know them, and also so that I might learn at long last to take that old song to heart. You know, the one that goes, love the one you're with. It's a sweet night, hope you're enjoying it.

Progress

2010-06-22T21:51:00.015-05:00

Really too tired for words, but I wanted to post these before they got away from me (having missed a couple this Spring...) Finally rolled back the tarp last weekend and with my (tireless) sister's help made some progress toward a sort of radiant garden plan... I've got paths coming in, so far leading nowhere, or perhaps just toward somewhere as yet undefined...they feel right, though...

front: strawberries, basil, sage, nasturtiums, winter savory, bitterroot

back, asparagus, peppers, brassicas, marsh mallow, lavender, more to come...

all paths lead toward the center

pretty in purslane (you go this way; I'll go that way)

seeing through (why does this remind me of Yars Revenge?

Pulled a few big patches of what was possibly Joe Pye Weed out front, which opened everything up quite a bit, and put a few new plants in the ground, here and there... things are coming along, bit by bit. Need more sun, more sleep...

That's about it for today.

2010-06-21T00:56:00.000-05:00

Fabulous weekend...

Catching Up

2010-06-15T00:13:00.005-05:00

Last few days have been strange and lovely, in ways.

Saturday I spent the evening in the company of my sisters and good friends, at the lovely and amazing birthday celebration of my dear friend JB, who has reached the ripe old age of thirty-five, in spite of all odds, in deference to fate, in sheer strength and unbelievable willingness to show life how to be lived, and loved. You blow me away, my friend, the ripples over water that your eyes radiate with each smile...

Meanwhile, CM has found, with his new partner, some good acres of gorgeous, rolling, luscious farmland upon which to build a new home and gorgeous, rolling, luscious dreams. I must admit to feeling some degree of envy, seeing those fields of green... Not long ago I held the hope of finding such a place. What a joy, to stand with both feet upon the land you will call home, to feel it give beneath you! I wish you--both--a long and winding path, deep into the weeds, up reaching oaks, under bending sumac, across the flowered valley, beyond... It will be beautiful. Much love.

But how bittersweet it can be, a taste of wild lettuce on the boulevard... (just reading about Latuca scariola, found some eager volunteers in li'l sis's garden....Eminently edible, I'd say...)

Sunday, after a night much too late for old persons, I had the pleasure of spending a relaxing day in the company of the twins, my bro-in-law and a friend, letting a long grey day pass slowly and easily, with conversation and documentary, and delicious desserts, and comfort foods, and plain old time. Ahh, leisure. I'd forgotten about you.

Not much happening in the yard these days, although I may have neglected to post anything about the ten-hour Sunday effort during part of which I got the patio herb garden in and moved my (entire) shady corner into it's proper place. Hell of a lot of work but it's starting to look like something, now... If it ever clear up again I've got plans for that vacated spot, and a few more around here....

News from up north is that all the plants are planted and all the seeds are seeded, and I'm excited to see what's growing on up there, soon. Steady rains this season have slowed things down just a little, but the new fruit trees and shrubs and all the others we planted last year have to be loving it, and I'd gladly eschew a few tomato sandwiches for the promise of plums... An orchard, now that's something I can look forward to. Oh, yeah, and my peach tree has made itself right at home, almost looks like it's been here all the while. I'll be surprised if there aren't a couple of peaches on it next year.

Sweet dreams, all of you, and thanks for reading.

Where'd the Elf Come From?

2010-06-09T22:02:00.003-05:00

It's just a question.

New Implement

2010-06-04T00:56:00.001-05:00

This is not some namby-pamby little pronged garden trowel, made for scraping the surface. Neither is it a stand-up farmer's sort of agrarian long-handled device, meant for working at length, distance. It's more of a get-down-on-your-hand-and-knees and hack it out kind of thing, my new tool. It's got teeth, it's got fangs.

I wasn't sure about this one, mainly because of the cost, and also because I couldn't find anyone online who had one, probably because of the cost. But something about this thing told me I had to have it.

I brought it along to my folks' last weekend, in anticipation of getting the beds dug in. Turned out, between the weather (bloody hot on Saturday) and the distractions (many), we only got as far as turning the front garden turned over with the broadforks and roughing out paths, and didn't get around to actual bed preparation, although the few weeds there were are mostly gone now, and a few things got planted (datura, nicotiana, artichoke) and transplanted (chervil, borage, strays of various sorts...). Thanks to all for pitching in, by the way. Anyway, at one point Mom caught a glimpse of it, lying around somewhere, and said what's that? It's my indulgent new thing. That looks like an awesome tool, she said.

And it is. I found this out working the beds around my patio, breaking up compacted clods of soil and mixing in the fresh sift from the sod, along with some compost. It took a good while--not least because of all the iridescent coral glass cabachons that emerged from the dirt with each turn (such a simple pleasure, to uncover these strange jewels...)--but it didn't take me long to understand that the tool in my hands was the real deal, worth the price. It's got groove, it's got meaning... I mean the tines on this thing are five inches long, and pointed, and the angle on the fine wood handle is such that when you swing it, it can't help but find a hold...like wielding an ice-axe, almost. It means business. Sure, it takes a little--shall we say?--aggression to use it well, but for the task of clod-busting that's probably a good thing. And once the dirt's all nice and soft, it cuts through just like butta...

I believe, in the realm of the body of tools I shall have known throughout my lifetime, this one might outlast me.

Anyhoo... in other news, I finally got my peach tree planted, over the holiday, and must say it pleased me more than a little to wake the next morning and see it peeking in at me through the kitchen window. I found a spot for my currant, made some progress on the fencerows, and stumbled onto a plan for the garden-to-be under the tarp (which I was hoping to take off this weekend, should the weather cooperate) while doodling plans at my sister's, where we ended up with a drawing of a variation on a keyhole design that looked something like a smiling antlered creature and female reproductive system, not that anyone was trying... So I'm aiming to put in some kind of heart-shaped ram's-horn yoni-type thing back there under the cover, maybe with a bee watering hole at the center. It'll be fun to start working the interior rather than securing the perimeter, if I ever make it that far... We shall see. More in the days to come.

(Oh, yeah. It's a hand tiller, Eliot Coleman design, if you must know.)

gratitude 2

2010-06-03T01:04:00.002-05:00

buried treasure

trust in plants

courageous parents

Spring rains

new hoodies

Object at rest...

2010-05-28T15:25:00.001-05:00

I am doing what I can to relinquish my lust for control, or my crazed desire for some semblance of autonomy, which may have something to do with the routine I've been running lately, of treating my body as a crude machine (a bit of fuel, some fire, exhaust...) but today I had to just give it up. I had the wisdom yesterday to know I couldn't possibly go to work today, but my hope was to spend a long a sunny day getting prep work done on the new spaces in the backyard, breaking up the soil and turning in some of that composted manure, so they'd be ready for planting when I get home on Monday. Instead I slept in, had breakfast and then curled up on my rug for a couple more hours' of unintended sleep (with the broiler on for all that time, I might add). My eyes were actually rolling around in my head, I'm so tired, so polluted, so weary maybe. Fuel, fire, exhaust, won't get you anywhere on a flat. Or four.

Anyway, I've only enough time this afternoon to get the place cleaned up, water all the plants and pack up, which sorta stinks because there's enough here to keep me occupied at a pleasant sunny pace for three days, easily...I've got trees and shrubs and flowers and herbs and fruits and veggies sitting in flats, still alive, but waiting...hopefully they can hang on for a few more days. I already lost one of the artichokes and the bitterroot is looking pretty unhappy, but the rest of them seem to be doing all right. Just wish I had the time to take the time, work at my pace for a few days, even relax maybe, instead of the weather or someone or the frigging universe constantly intervening to with that big "Don't Panic" sign, reminding me that there are an infinite number of ways to let it all go. And speaking of going...

Wow, honestly

2010-05-25T22:07:00.001-05:00

My peonies are in full bloom, hung over with heavy blossoms of white kissed just there by dark and luscious red, of deeply blushing rose...unkempt ruffles of silk, so soft on the hand, the shoulder, the cheek...their fragrance fills the yard, even while it rains; it fills the house, day and night...a vase bedside perfumes my sleep, wakes me gently... So lovely, so lovely, and there are more to come, deep purple behind the back fence... What a luxury it is, to love a flower! I cannot but breathe this sweetness...

Sod-kicker blues

2010-05-24T19:13:00.026-05:00

before kicking

So you need at least one good leg to use a sod-kicker. I found that out yesterday when, after delivering kick number four, I felt a sharp pinch in my left hip… Turned out it was nothing, or at least not enough to keep me from tearing up a good portion of the back yard, around the bee hive and under the maple, along the north and south fences, in the shady back corner and around the patio… About halfway through this operation I started to wonder if I have, indeed, lost my mind and am turning into Crazy Yard Lady. I’ve already got more square footage than I can handle and now I’ve added about half again that much. If there’s anything I would like to avoid doing—ever—it’s biting off more than I can chew, but I think I’ve come to the point where chewing is no longer feasible; it’s just gulp and swallow hard, stuff the next chunk in… Has to be done, though. I need a home for my herbs and strawberries, and I need to plant a barrier to separate my existence from Crazy Cat Lady’s. I need to see something transformed. After experiencing the metamorphosis of the front garden at my folks’—which actually changed lives—I know it’s possible. And it cannot wait until next year. So, off with the lawn.

Yet already I’ve had to call on others to assist (thank you, wonder twin powers!), like a kitten up a tree, a baby bird too big for the nest but crying to have another wriggling worm shoved down my gullet… Speaking of which, I must say I am truly impressed by the quality of the soil in my yard and the multitude of earthworms living in it, a number which has perhaps doubled due to the “stock split” precipitated by the sod cutter, although many of those that escaped being sliced in half were then brutally pulverized by the edge of my trowel as I whacked the dirt free from clumps of grass. Still a lot of whacking to go yet. Hopefully having turned much of the sod over to let it dry out in the sun will give the worms a chance to squirm to safety before the next round of beatings begin.

Speaking of which, when I returned the sod-kicker this morning I felt that pinch again, the twinge in my left hip and leg, strongly enough that I had to catch my breath once or twice and remind myself to just let it go...clutching is only going to make it hurt more, and only by releasing into and out of it will I be able to know what the trouble is so that it might be healed and allowed to heal. I know this to be true, but this is exactly what I have NOT been doing during the past few weeks, by any measure. It’s as if I’d been hit by a car and thrown from my bike, all scuffed up and with a broken wrist, and my response was to berate myself for the idiocy of bike-riding, scour my scrapes with Scotch-Brites as penance and then put in some practice time on the ol’ punching bag to toughen up that weak joint. Anyway, I’m done with that for a few days, or at least I’m going to lay off the punching bag routine for a while. But if anyone else out there wants to take a shot, you may as well go for it. I'm going to go plant my peach.

after kicking