Tag Archive | garden

Fruits of My Labors

I’m grateful for the lettuce-leaf basil, and for Amy’s suggestion to use it on a BLT… with, gratefully, a fresh garden tomato.

I’m grateful today for how the efforts I’ve made have paid off. I don’t have a lot of the things that people value, but I value all the things I have: I have enough. I have more than enough. I’m grateful that the choices I’ve made over the past forty years or more have led me to this life, this community, these friends, this place with its home and garden. I’m most immediately grateful today for the food rolling in from the garden. I’m grateful every day for the food that finds its way to my plate from all the places it originates; I’m grateful to have any food, especially grateful to have enough food, all the food I could want, in a world of want.

I’m grateful for tomatillos, parsley, cilantro, garlic from the garden, and for this great recipe for layered enchiladas. I’ve made it a few times, but one has to be rich in tomatillos, which this summer I am! Also I used mostly parsley because there is a dearth of cilantro in the garden this year. Funny how that goes, one year you have more of something than you can use and the next year it just doesn’t take.

I’m rich in cucumbers, too, and made another batch of pickles this afternoon. I’ve got a couple of jars of lacto-fermented dill pickles in the fridge already, a couple of vinegar-dill jars preserved, and today processed three pints of bread&butter pickles, and a scant pint of fermented dill slices. We’ll know more later if that last one will keep on the shelf, but it’s worth a try. I’m grateful that after a few years, I’m starting to feel pretty comfortable pickling and preserving; it no longer has to be a huge deal that takes a whole day’s focus. I’m grateful for the fruits of my labors in the garden and in the kitchen.

And naturally, I’m grateful for another day with this wonderful dog, who had energy to walk to the canyon this evening. Panting all the way, but happy and eager, and mostly without stumbles. What a teacher he is for me! Patience, acceptance, impermanence… above all, pure love.

Scarlet Runner Beans

I was grateful first thing this morning, and pretty much all the rest of the day. Stellar was excited to walk to the rim, barking his intention as he waited for me outside. Aprés walk, we enjoyed a chocolate croissant.

I’m grateful the scarlet runner bean vine is finally taking off. Hammered hard by deer outside the fence, they struggled to gain many blooms. Once the wild sunflowers grew up they provided a barrier to the voracious does, and the vine was able to blossom. I planted eight seeds: only one of them sprouted. Look at her now!

I planted it for the hummingbirds, and finally was in the right place at the right time today to catch a few enjoying the nectar. The first one checked me out before feeding on the flowers. Thereafter they ignored me. I am grateful for intrepid little hummingbirds.

I’m grateful for scarlet runner beans, and grateful I had some time today to sit with and appreciate them in their flourishing glory. I’m grateful for the gentleness of this day just passed, mild ambient temperature, flowers all around, abundant harvest of tomatoes and tomatillos, joyful energy expended in the kitchen canning and cleaning. I’m grateful for finding support this evening in being with the excruciating awareness of life’s vivid, finite beauty.

Food, Again

The morning started well when I got a shot I’ve been hoping for for a long long time: two hummingbirds midair. It was with my camera-phone instead of my husband camera, so it’s not a great image, but certainly captures the drama of their territorial nature as they protect their food source. I’m grateful for a telephone that can live in my pocket and capture a photo like this! Unheard of even a decade ago, much less when I was first meeting the big wide world forty and fifty years ago. I’m grateful that I get to spend an hour in the morning before the workday begins, out in the garden with growing, living things.

Then it was time to cook Boyz Lunch. With the rattlesnake pole beans simmering in oil, ginger, parsley, black mustard seeds, and the first paprika pepper harvested…

…an organic whole chicken roasting in the oven (in a wonderful non-stick pan from Food 52: I was skeptical but it’s been well worth the price)…

…and mashed potatoes and sliced tomatoes from the garden, we feasted! I’m grateful for all the food enjoyed today, by me and others I provide for, and for the opportunity to prepare a feast for my friends; for the hard work in the garden paying off, and for the joy that cooking brings me.

I’m grateful for little Biko, who is just about 22 years old, in the prime of his life, and always eager for something green; and grateful to offer John the joy of feeding him lettuce from the garden.

Orchid interlude

I’m grateful for this lettuce-leaf basil, that grows so prolifically in a pot, with leaves so huge they really could be used as lettuce, as Amy pointed out, and will no doubt show up on my next BLT instead of lettuce. Maybe tomorrow.

And then it was time for Zoom Cooking with Amy. We started by making the pasta dough, and then the no-cook sauce, and while those were resting we enjoyed martinis together. Then we rolled and shaped the strozzapreti, and assembled our meals.

So simple, so delicious: chopped tomatoes, basil, garlic, a bit of olive oil, resting to meld the flavors.
We laughed about how we made The Big Lasagna last year, rolling the dough by hand, taking hours! We are both grateful to have mechanical pasta rollers now! I’m grateful for the KitchenAid attachment I was given ♥️.
I’m grateful for any cooking tips, and read recently that to keep pasta from sticking together it’s best to remove it from the water with a slotted spoon, rather than dump it into a colander.

And then we tossed the cooked pasta with the tomato-basil-garlic sauce, sprinkled with parmesan, and sat down to enjoy our dinner together. I am always and forever grateful for zoom cooking with Amy.

Compost

I’m grateful for compost. I’m no professional, but after years of trying different methods, I’ve found one that works for me. I used old pallets to fashion three side-by-side bins, and place yarden waste in them according to matter and size. At any given time I’ve got one active bin where kitchen scraps, old potting soil, small weeds, cut back flowers, and other smallish plant materials get layered; one for bigger plant matter, and one for whatever is needed, sometimes just an empty bin to turn the active compost into. I’m grateful I had help today to turn the contents of one bin into another and reveal a thick bottom layer of rich, moist soil. Sifted, we got two wheelbarrow loads, which now wait in the garden to be added to the raised beds once I clear them out. In the same way that I marvel at a tiny seed which grows on only air, water and soil into a monstrous tomato plant or giant bean stalk, I also marvel at the way those same huge plants can be coaxed back into a state of nutrient-rich humus with water, air, patience, and just a little work. It is most gratifying to dig down to the black garden gold in the bottom of a compost bin.

Western Scrub Jays

I’m grateful for this smart, beautiful, sociable (some might call them noisy) Corvid. At least one pair nested in the yarden this year, using an old magpie nest in the juniper just north of the house. They stayed pretty far from the patio while the phoebes were nesting, but now that that family is gone, the jays are getting bolder. I welcome them drinking at the bee bowl, and enjoy watching and listening to them eat the acorns in the Gambel Oak, and flit around the patio pots in hopes of scavenging something, perhaps a few stray dog kibbles, or a treat from the compost bucket. I’m grateful for Western Scrub Jays, whatever variety it is that lives here.

I’m also grateful, as always, for hummingbirds, a dozen or so still zipping around all hours of the day among feeders and flowers; mostly juveniles and females, though I saw but couldn’t capture an adult male broadtail.

This Peaceful Day

I’m grateful for hanging out this evening on the patio with a relaxed cat and dog, in relative silence, punctuated by the scrub jays’ racket in the trees.

Here, between the inferno to the west and the deluge to the southeast, weather extremes swirling in ever more intense waves through the atmosphere, here in this little yarden on this high, dry mesa, it’s a calm, balmy day. I dwell in a near-constant state of overwhelm when awareness extends from coast to coast, monitoring weather. So much is happening all the time; so many lives changing, souls suffering, not only humans but other beings: insects, trees, bears and fawns, predators, prey; birds of all feathers fleeing fire. Snakes, rodents, roaches, great floating orbs of fire ants, all uprooted by rain, and mammals drowned; alligators climbing to higher ground, and houses washed away, some with people in them. Hurricanes today stay twice as strong for twice as long after landfall as they did fifty years ago.

I am grateful for this one peaceful day that I got to experience here in this one little yard in this vast plateau between extremes. I’m grateful for contentment and equanimity.

I’m grateful for this peach, the sum total of this year’s peach crop. The single peach and the robust greenery speak to the resilience of this little tree whose prognosis in spring wasn’t promising. I’m grateful the peach tree survived last autumn’s killing frost, and practically thrived with some extra TLC.

I’m grateful for this recipe, Creamy Corn Pasta with Basil. I spiralized the first garden zucchini and tossed it in the pan instead of pasta. The sauce involves blended corn, scallions, parmesan, and oodles of fresh basil. So simple, so delicious! Grateful for homegrown food, and the conditions of this life at this moment that allow for all the luxuries of this peaceful day, this spot of stillness here, amidst the uncontrollable atmosphere.

Gifts

It’s been a year since this beautiful creature bit the dust. Look at him draping there languorously along the back of my office chair, which he and he alone clawed to tatters. He was a singular animal, as devoted, communicative and interactive as any dog, and as wily and unpredictable as any cat. He was a treasure and a joy to share the world with, and I miss him every day. There are moments when I remember so vividly finding his remains that I once again inhabit the numbness of the shock. As clear as it was in that moment, I am looking at a swath of his grey tummy fluff across the forest floor, holding his dear dead perfect head in my hands. I’m grateful to come across pictures of him like this one when I search my archives for some unrelated image, pictures of Ojo very much alive that convey his brazen personality, his solid vibrancy. It was a gift to have him live with us for six years, and it’s a gift to recall him now. It was a gift to find his remains rather than suffer uncertainty at his absence, and a gift to suffer the jolt of his impermanence.

A couple of the bonsais-in-training got potted down over the past few days, including this culinary sage. It grew in the garden for a few years until it got crowded out, and then it was in a regular pot a few more years, so it has a sturdy trunk base. I clipped off all the old growth to leave the miniature new leaves, trimmed the roots, and wired it into a new pot. I’m grateful for the gift of leisure to enjoy pursuing this longtime passion with new vigor.

The magic beanstalks have slowed production to just a handful of immature pods every couple of days, while many out-of-reach or simply missed in the foliage earlier outgrow this harvest season and wait to be picked dry for winter storage. The first heirloom Pizzutello tomatoes are ripening, as are tomatillos, and a few more cucumbers. I’m grateful for the gift of garden harvest, and the gift of another day in this glorious world.

Zoom Cooking with Amy: Carrot Pancakes

I’ve really missed Zoom cooking with Amy in the six weeks that my tendon has been healing. I’m grateful for the diagnosis and the therapy, and the home exercises prescribed by OT Marla, and that I have had the dedication to be compliant. I can do so much more with my left hand now than I could two months ago, and with much less pain. Amy was up for spontaneous Zoom cooking, and went out to buy carrots to make the recipe I’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

With the second carrot harvest yesterday, and some leftover store-bought carrots, I needed to use up some, and sent Amy this recipe that looked too good to pass up. I didn’t have yogurt, so made a tomato-herb-sour cream sauce; without enough cilantro in the garden, I added parsley to the carrot-egg-garbanzo flour pancakes. They were delicious! I’m grateful for carrots from the garden, for ranch-fresh eggs, for improvisation; for bacon fat and olive oil, and for all the people and processes involved in getting these staples into my kitchen from where they originated; I’m grateful for the internet, and all the hundreds or thousands of people, and the materials, engineering, and ingenuity that cause the internet to come into my house and open the entire world to my curiosity and appreciation. I’m grateful for Zoom cooking with Amy, who’s been my friend for fifty years.

Carrot Pancakes with Salted Yogurt, minus the salted yogurt. So simple, so delicious!
I’m also grateful for the opportunity to help Deb by keeping Rocky for a week while she travels into the maw of Henri; I’m grateful to spend time with this fierce, adorable little terrier that I rescued thirteen years ago from an untenable situation.

Mindfulness

I’m grateful today and every day for having spent the past year in the Mindful Life Program teacher training, and to now be certified to teach mindfulness and meditation, sharing the benefits of skills that have transformed me from an anxious, angry person, into one who dwells largely in gratitude, acceptance, wisdom and contentment. I’m excited to announce that I’ll be teaching the MLP Mindfulness Foundations Course quarterly starting October 1. Please feel free to share this poster and this link to the full course description with anyone you think might be interested in learning how to choose which thoughts to follow and which to ignore, how to respond wisely to emotional triggers rather than react habitually, and much more. Please comment or email me if you would like more information.

Meanwhile, back in the garden… a beautiful harvest. Fewer green beans now, as they’re getting hard to reach, and also I’m letting many pods mature so I’ll have dried beans for winter. The first few tomatoes are beginning to ripen, and to split after the 1.4″ of rain we received in the past two days. How grateful we all are for that! Also in today’s basket, parsley, cherry tomatoes, lettuce leaf basil, and radish seedpods, as well as a handful of fat carrots.

Lettuce leaf basil is my new favorite basil. It’s flourishing in a large pot, and some leaves are literally the size of my whole hand.

With the carrots come carrot tops, and I couldn’t bear to just compost them, having read that they’re edible too. So I made a batch of carrot top pesto with them and some basil, following the note at the bottom of the recipe for an Italian twist.

Two packed cups of trimmed carrot tops, one cup of basil, fresh oregano, a handful of pecans, lemon zest and juice, and more, all zapped down to less than a pint of pesto, which went right into the freezer. I licked the spatula, of course, and the bowl, and it was delicious. Plenty more where that came from! I’m grateful for the garden, for bountiful harvest, for water, for making the most of carrots, for a food processor, for a fridge and freezer, for electricity to power them… Gratitude for any one thing in any given day ripples out to encompass gratitude for so much more.

Harvest: Potatoes and Basil

This morning I picked another pound or so of rattlesnake pole beans, and dug up one of five Yukon gold plants. I planted five each of three varieties, and have now harvested one plant of each to see how they did… and of course to enjoy the subterranean fruits of our labors. On the menu for Boyz Lunch today was green bean-potato casserole.

Also on the menu, mustard chicken, browned in bacon fat (from making the casserole topping: bacon, and crumbled Ritz crackers), then skillet roasted in sauce of mustard, white wine, soy sauce, tabasco, and garden garlic and herbs: ripened fennel flowers and basil, plus a teaspoon of herbes de Provence.

The boys said it was definitely Top Five. I love that they say “Top Five” about eighty percent of the meals I make for them. I’m grateful for their appreciation, and grateful I get to host Boyz Lunch live, at least until it gets too cold to eat outside.

I’m really grateful that my hand gets to be out of the brace sometimes, and for OT’s TLC. I can cook again! I still have to be very careful and gentle with it, and it aches and tires easily. OT says it will be a few more months before it’s back to a hundred percent, and I’ve got a handful of therapy exercises to do with each hand, probably forever going forward, to mitigate the underlying arthritis.

The lettuce leaf basil is going bonkers. I’m grateful for the adventure of watching these magnificent plants grow from fragile, minute seedlings, and for the joy of harvesting and eating or preserving the robust leaves. I’m exploring various ways to save this basil, having dried some, made and frozen pesto, and today, freezing the chopped leaves. The four basil bushes continue to splurge outward, promising more and more.

I’m grateful to own a food processor, in which I roughly chopped the basil, then drizzled in just enough olive oil to coat it. Then, into an ice tray by the tablespoon, and into the deep freeze. Tomorrow I’ll pop them out and put them in a freezer container for easy access once the fresh basil is gone.

I’m grateful for prolific basil and green beans, and for potatoes even though they’re all pretty small: live and learn, next year even lighter soil, but hey, this is my best potato crop ever, so far. I’m grateful for the garden, the fence that keeps out the deer, the people who built the fence; grateful for the kitchen and all its implements, for solar power and batteries to store it to keep the fridge and freezer running and power the food processor and this computer and everything else in the house, and grateful for the support of a kind and capable solar technician. I’m grateful for every day that I wake up alive and get to harvest in the garden and cook in the kitchen.