Peace and Beltane

I haven't posted in awhile. I couldn't...somehow it seemed...off...to prattle on while people were suffering and grieving. To those who asked, my son in Boston is fine; he wasn't near the bombing, although several of his staff people missed being there by mere minutes. He was very good about communicating with us immediately. I hope all of your loved ones are safe, and am praying for those who have endured fear and loss and sorrow.

With last night's setting sun, Beltane arrived (for those who follow a secular calendar, anyway. I know lunar Beltane has already passed). For reasons I didn't understand then, even as a child May 1st was one of my most favorite days. I would wake excited, wanting to hug trees, smell flowers and walk in the woods. It was decades before I knew it was Beltane, and that what I felt was the pulse of the Earth, the heartbeat of a bride on her wedding day, the rush of passion's adrenaline at a time when Nature is bursting with love and lust. On assorted Beltanes, I've danced around the Maypole, leapt over small bonfires, walked through the woods, made love, spent the day in serene contemplation. 

Usually I take the day off from work, but this year can't manage the time, so was blessed last evening to have welcomed Beltane filled with a joyful peace. Linda & I had a late dinner out on the porch as the sun was caressing the mountains and the light was turning golden. The quince was bursting with lush red blooms,

seducing bumblebees who were helpless to resist. Lacy dangling flowers swayed like earrings from the maple trees' branches. Peepers and tree frogs and birds sang their courting songs. We talked of small things, falling silent to listen and watch. A bluebird perched atop one of our new bluebird houses, but wasn't ready to commit. The breeze tickled the wind chimes and stroked the virginal white flowers of the old pear trees. It was a perfect moment....but sadly the sun tucked behind the mountains, the emerald grass ceased to glow, and it was time to come in.

This is such an exquisite time of year; is it more so because we know how fleeting it is? Each year I bemoan how quickly Autumn gives way to Winter, but Spring, that moment of trembling breath and perfect promise, leaves so much faster. The hens don't make their way to the coop until nearly 7:30 now. Already the forsythia--Nature's answer to the smiley face--is maturing to a more staid leafy green. The daffodils are like worn out ballerinas, just too tired to go on. There's much to look forward to....our greens and peas are giddily growing before our eyes. 

The Marshall strawberries are thriving

and will be moved to this year's home as soon as the danger of frost is past. We received our other shipment of 200 strawberries, and Linda's elderberries that I gave her for Christmas should be here any day now. And we have our first garlic growing throw the straw! 

We're looking forward to Catskill Native Nursery's Wildflower Festival and Tomatothon, the Country Living Fair, and my Summer Fridays off. But today I'm grateful for that intake of breath, this moment of perfect peace and beauty when we can tell ourselves the world is innocent and untouched, a gentle and loving place to be. 

Wishing all of you simple joy and peace. Blessed Beltane!

I, Robot

Okay, I have disabled the word verification, but am blocking anonymous users. Let's see if this works better....

Fragaria, aka Marshall

Sweet, textural, fleeting, delicate, teasing to the nose and the tongue, sensual...No one serves up champagne and apples in romantic scenes, and a banana dipped in chocolate just doesn't take us to the same place. Does any other fruit, nay--any other food at all-- carry the same tantalizing juxtapositions of love and lust, innocence and decadence, sweetness and daring, as that small, bumpy red berry with the come-hither curves and flirty green cap we familiarly call strawberry?

There are numerous varieties, something for every palate and time frame, from early producers for those seeking instant gratification to strawberries that bear fruit until nearly Fall for those who can't get enough of a good thing. We love them at our house--strawberry jam, sorbet, ice cream, sliced & sweetened over pound cake or nibbled fresh, their red flesh yielding with just a hint of coquettish hesitation.

And so, my beloved declared this the year of the strawberry on our little would-be homestead. She wants to experiment with two ways of growing them--in soil and hydroponically, but we're going vertical. Yep...up and down, eye to eye, reach for the sky. We have 200 plants on order, four different varieties--Earliglow, Tristar, Honeoye and Mara de Bois. We know this first year the yield will be small, but hopefully we'll get enough to taste test and savor.

Ah....but wait...there's more! To be accurate, we're planting two hundred and TWO strawberry plants! And two? you're asking yourself, puzzled (okay, maybe not so much, but humor me). Why and TWO?

Well, let me tell you about the Marshall Strawberry. I'm quoting here: "The Marshall strawberry -- once deemed by James Beard, the father of American gastronomy, as the tastiest berry ever grown -- was on Slow Foods' most endangered foods list just 5 short years ago." I first read about the Marshall on the Beekman 1802 blog. I was fascinated by the story of a strawberry we nearly lost, and enraptured at the idea of playing some small part in keeping this rare, reputedly extraordinary strawberry alive. I went to this site to learn more, and began making my case to Linda. She agreed, perhaps a little reluctantly at first, but then at the last moment, I reconsidered. This tiny treasure isn't exactly a dime a dozen. One of 'em takes a whole lotta dimes! Perhaps another year, I thought.

But the Marshall story tucked itself into my brain. Followers of this blog know we're small farm supporters. We choose organic and heirloom vegetables and fruits when we can. We understand the need to honor and preserve our agricultural history at a time when pollinators are disappearing and the forces of Monsanto are waging war against us.  And hey, we rescue cats, dogs, chickens, fish...it's not that big a leap to strawberries, I suppose.  When Linda declared her desire to be a strawberry farmer and we ordered our two hundred plants, Marshall called out to me again. How could we, in good conscience, grow all those strawberries but not choose to help save an heirloom, not help protect and foster it, not play some strawberry-seed-sized part in its renaissance? And so, without further ado, I give you:

These two arrived today; they arrived wearing sweet mesh bags and silver tags stamped with # 200 and # 201. They won't be joining their compatriots in Berry Towers; we will love them and pet them and name them George (sorry, Bugs Bunny reference--who here remembers that?)...But seriously, this year they'll be potted, pampered and protected. While we hope to savor a few sweet gems, we'll mostly pinch off the blossoms to help them grow bigger and stronger, and put out more runners for the future. Our true  reward this year will be knowing we played a tiny role in saving the Marshall, preserving a fragment of agricultural heritage and purity, having the slightest hand in keeping this once endangered fruit from extinction. You know what? I can live with that!

There were 600 plants available this year. The Marshall website has a nifty map that allows you to track where in the country these strawberries are going (we'll be on it as "Catskill Mtn Mamas" in NY when the map is next updated). If the Marshall story whispers your name, you can check out the options for ordering here. We'll keep you posted on our plants' progress, complete with photos, of course!

And hey, if growing a Marshall isn't the right thing for you now, that's okay. Leah Gauthier is making a difference in a big way, one strawberry at a time, but each of us has the power. In the last few years, heirloom vegetables &fruits, and their seeds, have become so much easier to find. Grow a Brandywine or Cherokee Purple tomato or two. Support the local farmer who is growing heirlooms. Extinct is forever; it's scary stuff to think about it, but there's hope. We can all make a difference; we just have to want it a little bit...

That Robot Thing

I regret to say that due to extensive spamming of this blog in the past few days, I'm going to reinstate that "please prove you aren't a robot" word verification thing. Really, really hate doing that to everyone, but the sudden spam attack is kind of nuts. Please don't hesitate to let me know if it's a hardship; I don't want to lose readers as a result and would revisit it.

Curious--is anyone else suddenly having similar problems?

Hope it's warm and sunny wherever you are today!

Still Here!

Thank you to Willow for popping in & reminding me that I've been out of touch; it's a lovely thing to be missed! All is fine....but do you ever feel like time is seeping out of every seam, a steady dripping away like water from a soaker hose? That's how it feels right now.

--Critters are well and happy! Pip will be a year old this month--impossible to believe! Linda brought Pip & her four siblings home to foster on April 12 last year; they were only 3 or 4 days old. Keeping Pip, which was totally unplanned, was one of the best decisions we've ever made.

She is probably the most loving cat I've ever known, and between us, Linda & I have had some serious lovebugs. Her favorite place is on the couch, laying on both of us; she always wants to be touch us both. She wants petting and kisses, but not in a needy way. She's also a...well, a pip, always looking for mischief. Yeti's plumey tail is a toy, as are Lola's legs. But despite our initial worries about Lola and Pip, it's all worked out.

Chickens--doing well, laying huge eggs; sometimes I look at them and just think ouch! TuTu, Octavia and Julia are glad for the warming temperatures but want to know when there will be grass to forage in!

Bees--we were deeply saddened to discover we'd lost a hive due to mice. Linda had a mouse guard up, but somehow it got pried open enough that mice invaded the hive. This was the original hive, so all the more sad. Two hives survived Winter, and she just got two more last week. This is a tough time of year to get them through, but she's feeding them daily.

Planting! We've begun kale, chard, peas, arugula, spinach, thyme, marigolds, snapdragons. A weekly planting calendar is in place, along with extensive plans on what gets planted where, and when we need to build what; for example, we're not starting tomatoes from seed, but instead will buy them from Catskill Native Nursery in mid-May, so we know that in early May we need to build platforms to set tomato containers on between the rows of our younger grape arbor, and by mid-May will need to build the bean & edamame trellises. We're aiming to turn a chunk of yard into a no-mow zone; this year's biggest effort in that direction will be a huge stretch of sunblower beds! We're looking to bring whimsy and joy into our yard along with functionality and (eventually) easier maintenance.

The endless battle with food--a little over a year ago, on orders from an acupunturist/TCM practitioner, I went on a gluten/sugar/processed food free diet because of chronic hives, and stuck it out successfully for about 5 or 6 months. It didn't affect the hives, which went into a remission this past October and then began rebounding last month. It did cause me to drop 16 lbs and become far less bloated. Eventually I returned to all my bad habits again, and last week stepped on a scale at the doctor's office and felt nauseous at the number. So...it's Monday morning, the first day of a new month, and I've rejoined Weight Watchers (online)--hey, Jennifer Hudson still looks great! It's been successful for me before, and I seem to need the regimentation. Doctor told me I must start exercising, and broke it down to as minimal as possible--10 minutes a day, three times a week to start out. Even I can manage that!

We've had hints of sweet Spring, warm sun and blissed-out birds, grazing deer, geese flying over the house by the hundreds, heading north all at once as if they all got the email at one time. The quince is blushing, the Japanese maple is sporting delicate buds, daffodils are peeking out. The season is pregnant with promise, each day a new discovery, and today I feel optimistic and excited about the days to come.

I've missed all of you, and will be making the rounds of blogs this week; I look forward to catching up! And I'll be back posting at the end of the week to talk about....some very special strawberries. Wishing you a week of joy and anticipation in the season!

Of Plans and Dreaming

This weekend was supposed to be about Spring: prepping a couple of the raised beds for cold frame planting, pruning the grapevines, starting arugula and mesclun seeds in a couple of big containers (recycling bee hive boxes, actually), and making a big sheet of felt for a  (secret) project Linda & I are working on (okay, that one isn't specifically about Spring).

Yeah, not so much. Snow (an unexpected 7"), working a half day Saturday (which I never ever have to do on a Saturday), our combined attention span of a crow on speed & subsequent excitement over a new project, an unexpected passing, and general lack of preparation waylaid almost all of that.

Friday night Linda went into the room where our two older cats hang out during the Winter months to feed Dottie, who gets daily medication and supplemental chicken, and discovered that Susie had died sometime that afternoon. We know it was afternoon, because Linda had spent time with her in the morning as she watered plants and such. It was a shock; Susie was almost 14, but had a clean bill of health from the vet just last month, despite being a very fat cat (she was on limited rations and a lower calorie food, but was still a very big cat). We suspect it was a heart attack. Susie was a funny, crotchety thing, who came to live with Linda when Linda's mom passed nine years ago. For years, when we said her name, Susie's response was a growl. But she amused us with her crankiness, and she thrived once we moved here. An indoor-only cat the first four years of her life, here she was the first one outside even when the weather was cold, and loved stalking about her queendom. She was the only cat who always came when called--without bribery!--and when she deigned to acknowledge us, it felt like a gift, like we'd achieved a certain worthiness. It was an unexpected and sad loss, which creates a need to readjust for Dottie so she doesn't become isolated. They weren't friends, and yet they kept each other company, two old ladies who were used to each other's quirks. Dottie will spend alot more time in the main part of the house now, with the rest of the crew.

Saturday afternoon, I decided to tackle the felt. Well, it's been quite awhile since I last did this kind of wet felting, and I was quite unprepared! I had to stop every few minutes to gather the suupplies, create the olive oil gel soap, remind myself of each step in the process. The final product was laid on the treadmill to dry away from Pip's claws(hey, at least this way the treadmill actually gets used!) many hours after beginning.

We realized that the snow wasn't conducive to prepping the raised beds Saturday, but planned on at least pruning the grapes and planting arugula & mesclun Sunday. Instead, we researched how to prune grapevines,  then grocery shopped, found a vanity & faucet and flooring for our planned bathroom remodel, wandering back and forth between Lowes and Home Depot, taking photos, looking at samples. Next thing we knew, it was 3:00 in the afternoon. We put away groceries, then were about to get back in the car to go buy the vanity since it's being discontinued, when a thought whispered in my ear. "Hey Linda, didn't we buy a vanity back when we first moved here for doing the upstairs bathroom remodel?" (aforementioned conversion from half to full bath never actually happened, and we've now changed direction and are opting out of that one in favor of doing it downstairs where all the plumbing already exists). "Ya know Ashling, I was thinking the same thing", my beloved replied. Up we trekked to the once-imagined bathroom that is now a storage room for....everything, including the clawfoot tub we bought at an antique store for that remodel. Much digging, tugging, craning, wrestling later, we did indeed find and haul out the vanity bought back in 2008. While not what I had in mind for the this particular reincarnation of the existing bathroom, one can't justify buying one vanity when another is ready & waiting to be called into service! So we have our vanity & sink, the tub, and have chosen our flooring (and in doing so discovered the person we were considering for the remodel left out some important info and won't be getting the job). We saved alot of money, discovered we can do alot of the remodel ourselves, and patted ourselves on the back(s).

No vines were pruned, no seeds planted (in fact I was a tad surprised...then not so surprised... to discover that the planters Linda offered for the greens in fact need to be assembled, which we didn't get to)....no projects completed. But we had fun planning and imagining, weighing options, designing, meandering. Well, perhaps seeds were planted, just not the kind in neat little packets. And so today I'm daydreaming....of Spring, of sunshine, green grass, tiny tree buds, seedlings; of Spring's purples and yellows, her sweet, heady scents and secrets unveiled daily. I'm dreaming of days spent working with Linda in the garden then soaking in our soon-to-be clawfoot tub, of dinners eaten together on the back porch as the sun sets. I'm dreaming of the new batches of maple syrup and first tender asparagus spears from the farm market, the  latter served with fresh eggs from our hens and fresh greens from our gardens. I'm dreaming of Sunday morning coffee sipped as we wait for the first hummingbird sighting of the year and talk and plan and dream some more.

What are your Spring dreams?

Surprise!

I'd taken today off as a personal day for a doctor appointment & errands, but it turns out we closed for the rather unexpected weather, so now it's a snow day. Yay! May not be able to get to the doctor appointment, but that's okay. The weekend forecast will have us in kissing distance of 50 degrees....this may make pruning the grape vines and prepping the raised beds a challenge, but it's so perfectly beautiful, I can't complain!