growing curious

first potatoes

There are sweet advantages to having a slightly color-blind husband. 

He motioned with his arm and said, "There's a bag of blue potatoes over there." 

I thought, "We grew blue potatoes again?  Man...  they're so pithy."

But I wandered over to the bag and saw these delicious young red potatoes.  I did a happy dance.  They are goregous and smell like dirt and life.  They smell of hope.

Last year we (he... the potatoes were his domain) managed 300 pounds of potatoes, and we didn't know what we were doing.  This year, we scaled back on planting but hope to make every potato count in our dinners and breakfasts. These will do nicely!

fourth

Do you remember this photo that I posted in April?  I mentioned that I thought the plant in the center with reddish leaves was a volunteer lettuce or a volunteer chickory.  It was chickory.   When it bolts, it sends out curly things with sweet blue flowers all over that the bees love, love, love.  This is what it looks like now:

And here is another photo:

Life still feels electric and heightened.  I'm not up or manic, though.  In fact, I'm feeling quite a bit of physical pain lately.  Everything feels big -- important but hard.

Tonight we're heading up to my mom's house because she's got a good spot for watching fireworks from all over the area.  I made hummus and raita, picked some snap peas from the garden, gathered some other vegetables, and stocked up on whole wheat pitas.  I don't like fireworks (hello?  PTSD and fireworks don't mix), and I feel cranky and hormonal, but my chores are done, and I'm trying to get mellow so that I will be pleasant to be around this evening.  (Isn't it sad when we have to try to be pleasant?  I even put perfume on this morning before walking in a neighborhood parade because I feared I just stunk wretchedness.)

Here is a picture of our zen berry picker.  She just tunes out the whole world, becomes one with the bees, and sinks into the raspberries.  It's pretty amazing to watch her work.  Sadly, the results are always in her belly -- even when she goes out with a container to pick berries for later. 

  

willamette organics

If you live in central or NW Oregon and need help with your soil, call Jim Toler at Willamette Organics.

Every time we hire them to help us nourish our soil, we benefit.  Money well spent.  Nice folks.

visible growth

Do you remember this picture from February?  This is where I planted our peas.

This is what it looks like now:

ladybug orgy

E and I released some ladybugs yesterday.  They're busy already having a party. 

I like ladybugs a lot.  They just seem cheery.   We're beginning to get aphids on the roses so I thought it was time to pull in the red ladies.

Here are a couple more who are busy on the same angelica plant.  I really love angelica.  It's a biennial plant, and this is its second year -- hence the amazing blooms, which are a bee magnet.  I wish I would have planted another this year so that I can have fun with the blooms next year, but I think it's too late.  Last year, this one looked more like a celery plant.  This year, it looks like a goddess in the garden.

kimchi birthday

Why does this make me so happy?  My first batch of kimchi is a success.  I am now a kimchi maker!  (Perhaps I will add this skill to my resume when I dust off the cobwebs soon...) 

(Napa cabbage + bok choi + daikon + radish greens + carrots + green onions + jalepeno + garlic + ginger + aleppo pepper) ^{soaked in salt overnight and drained} x 5 days in the Harsch crock = WOW! 

It tastes clean and bright -- spicy hot enough but not burning hot.  You can taste each of the ingredients and then appreciate how they work together.  I am so proud.  And I'm delighted to learn to make something with a shorter production time in the crock.  If I run out of kraut, I can make a batch of kimchi (healthful, too) and have the crock ready for a round of pickles whenever the cucumbers are ready.  (I was feeling panicky about having kraut going in there when the cucumbers were ready, and last time the kraut just needed another three weeks and it turned out wonderfully, but it was winter, and I could wait...  Now I think I won't get another crock just yet.)

Today was a good day.  D stayed home.  E stayed home, too, because she has a cold (boo!).  The fish came.  We all had time in the garden.  We went to Concentrates to pick up our back-ordered supply of organic compost.  Taylor's package of special super-duper muscle rub arrived!  It was my birthday, and E made me a collage, and D gave me a two-hour foot rub while we watched a movie.  And the kimchi turned out!

vine cage in situ

If all goes well, in two months, I will show you a new picture of this vine cage covered in beans.

All day long, my mind has been going a mile a minute, thinking about garden structures I might create with simple weaving techniques. 

Good morning at home getting things done and working in the garden.  Now it's time to figure out dinner...

tomatoes and crackers

We got the tomatoes in.  If they all grow successfully, we'll be loaded.  We planted more than twenty plants in three rows, and we're going to use the Florida Weave method to stake them.  This lets us plant them closer together yet have room to work with the vines as they grow.

I'm not sure what's going on, but every time we have a big work day in the garden, I can't sleep at night because my legs ache so much.  I was up until 3am last night and then woke up at 6-something this morning to get going on the morning chores.  This sort of exhaustion can take me to the bad place pretty quickly.

I meant to share this photo last week.  Because E really enjoyed her cooking class at the rec center and did more complicated cooking there than she normally does at our house, we realized that she could do more in our kitchen if she wasn't always perched on a stool.  D built her a table/butcher block for the middle of the kitchen -- at just the right height for her.  This is a picture from our last cracker-making adventure.  It worked perfectly and gave her much more control.

I have lots more to say, but I'm too exhausted to write more.  I better just cave in and go rest and let her watch cartoons.  Me = bad mother.

room for more cucumbers

D is home with a cold.  E still has pox.  It's been raining cats and dogs.

During a brief break in the rain, I got them both outside for a look around the garden.  E helped me plant five pepper plants.  I really love planting when I know it will rain soon.  After looking things over, I realized that I have room for two more cucumber plants against a wire fence.  I love it when space opens up like that...  I didn't think there would be room for anything else there, but now I see that there's plenty of room.

Off to take a nap...  I'm doing a valiant job of fighting off the crud, but I'm tired.

throwing things

The May/June 2009 issue of In Good Tilth focuses on new, young farmers.  There's a great article from Katie Kulla, "Want to Farm?  Prepare Today to Grow Tomorrow."  Under the subheading "Know yourself (and your partner)," she writes:

"I am an even-tempered person, and I never thought I would want to throw a tool -- let alone throw a tool directed at my husband.   But, in the midst of building a farm from scratch, the thought has crossed my mind more than once."

I get that.

Yesterday, I had a cow at D because his fancy hose contraption is so fancy that you can't just roll out the hose normally when you want to water.  You have to push buttons and do this and do that, and you need to be careful it won't roll back up on you automatically when you're in the middle of watering.  Why don't we just have a normal hose coiled up on the ground?  I just wanted to water.  Why must I go through so many hoops to accomplish a simple goal?

His mother was over so I asked her why he must always have the fanciest, most complicated contraptions.  She didn't have an answer. 

He bought a seeder that rolls along the ground so that you can plant seeds in straight lines.  I understand why tools like this exist, but our "farm" is quite small.  When he gets out this thing, I want to show him the finger.  My finger.  See this, babe?  This is my seeder.

It's raining this weekend...  I think we're going to go off into the world and play today and give the yard (and our minds) a break.

garden in the evening

This is a gorgeous moment of spring's energy in our garden.  That "lettuce" in the center may be lettuce or some sort of chicory from last year.  The parsley in the back is from last year, too.  The little leaves in front are from a young celery plant.

I went outside tonight to take the yard debris can to the street, but the garden called me.

I just stood out there, plucking the unopened flower buds from the kale, arugula, and mustard plants.  I pinched them off and popped them into my mouth.  Tender, sweet, and spicy.

Here are the peas, climbing happily.  I hope they continue to do well and that I feel like there's enough volume there for me to pick the pea shoots, too.  I sure love those -- sauteed ever so slightly or tossed with a warm dressing so that they just begin to soften.

But where is the asparagus?  Maybe it will come up next year instead.  Little parsley plants line the edge of the bed because I like parsley and have heard that asparagus likes it, too.

potential

Here is a new raised bed in our vegetable garden.  This bed has a complicated history and purpose, but I think it's all going to work out just fine -- despite a tension-filled hour in the garden today.

This bed is for my mother-in-law.  After her husband died, she moved across town and into a condominium less than a mile away from us.  She has a small patio there that gets too much sun so she's not able to garden as she used to.  

My MIL has very particular ideas about everything, and she often comes over here to "help" but micromanages me in my own garden instead.  I know she means well, but the garden is my sacred space.  So I decided that she needed her own well-defined garden plot over here.  I wanted it to be big so that she would be able to grow anything she desired.  I wanted it to be raised enough so that she could work it even when she was feeling tired or sore. I wanted it to "fit" with the other brick beds we've made so I fought D on making sure this bed was made from bricks, too.

So...  here is the new planting bed -- done and filled with a nice mix of manure, old compost, and sand.  Behind the bench in the photo is an area we've always just used for branches and debris, but I reclaimed a 15' x 3' section of that no-man's land for planting more herbs and flowers to attract beneficial insects.  I filled it with extra planting mix from the new raised bed and marked it off with a huge tree branch -- giving the new flower bed a sweet, natural curve.

The frustrating, interesting, weird part of the whole day was when we were out there today, and my MIL could see this *huge* new bed that was made just for her, and she spent the whole time micromanaging me over in this throw-away area of the yard behind the bench.

I put the bench there this year for my MIL, and I wanted to plant some pretty flowers behind it to help the health of the garden and to please my MIL.  But instead of focusing on what I *was* doing for her, she focused on everything I needed to be doing better or differently.

Whatever. 

Here is some pretty kale.  We are going to eat some of that tomorrow.

p + p = p p

President's day in Portland = Plant Peas!

This spot did well last year because the peas got to climb as high as they wanted to.  I expanded the space from 4-feet wide to 12-feet this year because I am greedy.

I feel hopeful. I planted a mixture of sugar snap, shell peas, and snow peas.

Can you believe that I got out in the garden with all that's going on?  It took a massive amount of energy to get myself to accomplish this symbolic welcome to the new growing year.  I really just wanted to hide under the covers.

imaginary dinner conversations

D:  What did you do today, dear, while our sweet child was in school?

C:  Why, thank you for asking me.  I tidied up the back and front gardens and coppiced the artemisia.

D:  Oh marvelous!  You really do keep the gardens looking nice, sweetheart.

In reality, though, I pretty much hacked the artemisia down to a nubby stub and ripped out the bittercress like a crazed woman, dirt flying everywhere.

Also, in reality, D and I don't have dinner conversations.  We are tired, forty-something parents, and we just grunt at one another in the evenings.

I find gardening language amusing sometimes, though.  Coppicing is a way of managing thickets, shrubs, and forests by cutting back plants so that new growth is stimulated.  Artemisias get leggy like some willows so it's how I keep ours round and fluffy.  But a garden writer would never say, "Just hack it down to the stub every January."  I wonder if garden writers are squeamish or if they never take delight in the destructive side of gardening.  It's good therapy for me, and today was my very first chance of the year to hack away at something.  More to come!  Goody goody.

meanwhile... those green tomatoes...

My camera is at E's school today so I can't take a picture for you, but the green tomatoes are still here.  I made two batches of marmalade.  One batch is extra sweet.  One batch is bitter in an authentic, marmalade-y way.  I like the bitter one best, of course, because I'm a bitter old hag.  Or maybe it's because I'm so naturally sweet that I need the bitter to balance things out?  (I wonder which one Jon Stewart would like best?  D likes the sweet one.)

I'm not sure what I'm going to do with the rest of the green ones, though.  If I could find some cheap hot peppers, maybe I'd make another batch of salsa verde.

My friend P wondered why I'm wearing myself out with these green tomatoes...  maybe I should just let them go into the compost pile...  I just can't.  I want to "win" this cosmic challenge or "do right" by the energy that went into growing the tomatoes.

I'm not doing a lot this morning.  I need to run off to return some ballet things that E didn't like.  There are good pinto beans cooking on the stove, and the last of the reddish tomatoes are roasting in the oven with onions and peppers.  I think I'll make some chili with them all.  My mother often made chili for Halloween.

After I emptied the compost bucket, I went up to the top of the garden and picked a bowl-ful of figs -- maybe 10 Brown Turkeys -- the most I've ever harvested at one time because the tree is so young. 

even more green tomatoes

How many more green tomatoes?  Another 30 pounds! 

It's hilarious.  It's heartbreaking.  My shoulders still are sore from all of the chopping I did the other week.

There must be some cosmic message in all of this...

more green tomatoes!

I know...  it's becoming a joke, but there truly are more green tomatoes out there in the garden.  See?  I left these vines growing because they were healthier and had more air circulation.  But these tomatoes still haven't begun to ripen.

I guess I'll make a proper jam this time -- no chutney.  My gosh, what am I going to do with all that chutney?

So...  ummm...  big inner changes happening here.  I'm pretty grumpy and discombobulated, trying to make new choices and feel more empowered in my life. 

My cousin will be dying soon.  My father is still ill and keeps going in and out of the hospital (which my brother and I don't hear about until after he's back and brushing his teeth at home).  And I'm still trying to dig myself out of the load of anger my brother dumped on me a couple of weeks ago.  His half-hearted apology ("You didn't deserve it.") doesn't erase the very mean things he said or the entire week I spent confused and sad about it all -- especially when he warns me that he may unload on me again like that (ummm... no, dear tortured brother, that's not okay with me).

I'm still trying to figure out what being a mom is all about.  When does she need all of me?  When is it okay to do some of my own stuff?  I still feel that the best way for me to restore my health and well-being is through art/creativity of some kind.  I keep making exploratory gestures in this realm, but I feel inner urgency to make it a priority.

To this end, I re-arranged the "Creating Room" again.  Remember when I came to the realization that I'd never get time to do my own stuff in my own space unless I figured out how to share the space intentionally with E?

Well, the Creating Room has been working out pretty well in some ways.  I mostly have stopped calling it "my office," and E and I do quite a bit in there -- for her.  This weekend I finally decided to bring more of my stuff -- another bookshelf, books, and some extra art supplies -- into the Creating Room. I don't know why rearranging things helps me so much.  I also feel comforted now to have Rumi, Lynda Barry, Ram Das, Clifford Geertz, and some delicious fairy tale books (mine!) close to me while I go through these mountains of grief and anger.  I've felt so lost lately.  It helps to see these books because they remind me of what matters to my heart.

Meanwhile, those green tomatoes are hanging out there on the fence, taunting me... 

58 pounds of green tomatoes

I guess I have a good eye...  here are 58 pounds of green tomatoes in good shape.  Five or ten pounds only made it as far as the compost pile.

So the issues are...

• What should I do with them?

• Should I just try every recipe that looks interesting because there certainly is enough of them?

• What do I have the energy for?  Seems like it would be nice to make a chutney or jam, some pickles, and a salsa.  That's a lot of work, and my energy has taken a serious nose-dive this weekend.

• If I pickle some, will they get mushy?  I would rather they stay kinda crunchy.

Come on, green tomato lovers, help me out here!

Do you see the white bowl filled with the green romas?  They came from one plant, and the huge tomatoes hung together on the vines like clusters of grapes.  I really wanted to taste these ripe, but not a single one ever made it.

I left four plants growing because they're in a different area that gets a lot of sun and air circulation.  The vines on those plants are still quite healthy so maybe some of those tomatoes will ripen.  (And that is a lesson on tomato placement for next year's garden.)

It was weird to harvest all of these and rip out the plants.  I have felt sad about the dumb tomato year.   My plants suffered from the weather as did many other tomato plants in this area.  Also, I got most of my plants from one nursery, and most of them suffered from some weird leaf curl thing that held back their growth during the last part of spring.  It took a long time for them to recover.

But I tried to keep my focus on the positive.  I'm grateful that I'm learning how to preserve things.  These tough beauties didn't grow in vain.  They will be enjoyed!  (Cynthia --ooops! --, only a pound or two seem as though they might ripen on the counter.  I'll try your trick.  Thanks!)

what should I do with...

...sixty pounds of green tomatoes?

Chutney?  Pickles?  Please help.

With the rain we've had, we can't hang the vines upside down and hope the fruit will ripen.  The vines are rotten, and the fruit must be rescued tomorrow.  60 pounds is a conservative estimate on what's out there.  Yes, some of them will be fried!  (I have some really great butter.)

happy

I am happy because...

• Yesterday I talked with a new mom friend for an hour while our kids were busy, and we had time to find some common ground (including the fact that we both took great classes from a particular professor).

• Last night I spent three hours knitting with four other nice women.  I laughed really hard and realized I'm not a freak.  I am having a normal experience being a parent.

• The sauerkraut crock is coming.  D, E and I will be able to ward off scurvy and keep our intestinal flora happy while the economy tanks. 

• There are 75 pounds or more of green tomatoes on rotting vines that must be dealt with this weekend.  Ideas?  I was sad for a month that our tomato harvest didn't happen. Now I'm done with being sad and am ready to do something fun with the green ones.

• It rained an autumn-in-a-rainforest sort of rain this afternoon, and I loved being able to put E down for her nap while it fell.

• I really, really like the other families at E's preschool.  I like the kids.  I like the parents.  I like the teacher. Every part of it is good -- except for my angst when it's my turn to be parent helper (but there is plenty of fun and joy in that, despite that angst).  It's so good to be sure of something on this parenting journey.

• It's almost a weekend.

• I'm collecting some annoying baby things (plastic!) like plates and cups and things and moving them out of the kitchen before I decide how to donate them.

• I have been moving my small collection of fun cookie cutters to the now-empty drawer (jackrabbit, house, sheep) because they're getting used more these days. 

• I cleaned the laundry room and two bathrooms this week.

• I went outside to pick a few stray greens and found three ripe figs to bring in.

Life is good.