Seasonal Shifts

Posted on November 8, 2021 by Ann Lovejoy
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Do slugs die when they eat deadly Amanita mushrooms?

Daylight Savings & A Death Cafe, With Cake

On Sunday morning, I was caught off guard by the clock on my stovetop, which was not in synch with my phone. At first, I thought there was something wrong with the stove, then realized that Daylight Savings Time had crept up unnoticed. By afternoon, it was very obvious, as the daylight drained away by 4:30 and dusk settled in like a blanket. It surprised me to be so unaware of the time change, since in general, the past few years have made me increasingly aware of seasonal shifts, my own and those of the garden. I find it comforting to notice the incremental changes in day length as the year spins away into winter, then winds itself back up into spring. Those little changes, involving a few minutes a day (more or less), all year round, are easy to assimilate. However, the full-hour jump of Daylight Savings is hard on our bodies, whether we gain an hour, as we seem to in autumn, or lose it when we have to adjust to rising earlier in spring.

The garden, of curse, ignores clocks and calendars and deals only with reality. I’ve been thinking back lately about a year I spent in a ghost town at almost 9,000 feet near the abandoned gold camp of Hecla, Montana. My then-husband and I repaired a tiny old cabin, built an outhouse, and cut 10 cords of wood by hand to get us through the winter. After a few months without watches (remember those?), we lost track of time and dates and found our own natural rhythms that followed the sun and respected the darkness. We gradually shifted from trying to recreate daylight indoors to finding tasks that didn’t need much light, from cooking and knitting to playing music and whittling. All around us, plants and animals responded to the natural changes as they had for millennia by going dormant or hibernating. It was surprising how quickly the cultural habits of time keeping slipped away and how comfortable it felt to live by the sun, not the clock.

The Greatest Change

Autumn is always a reflective time for me, not least when working in the garden. It’s rewarding to pace myself, looking carefully for signs of slumbering bees and frogs and butterflies before yanking fading foliage from dormant plants. The garden is getting sleepy but it certainly isn’t dead. Odd stems of still-blooming mint and oregano still attract late bees, and even the hummingbirds visit them in their daily quest for nectar. The hardy fuchsias are still the hummers’ favorite sip-stops, but as flower choices dwindle, both birds and bees take advantage of anything they can find to keep them alive a little longer. I put out the hummingbird feeders as autumn arrives to keep the Anna’s hummingbirds happy through fall and winter, changing them daily and cleaning them carefully to avoid spreading diseases. Even so, I sometimes find a dead birds (and mice) in the garden, killed by hunger or cold or the neighbors’ roaming cats.

I’m obviously not alone in pondering death’s mysteries at this time of year, but the period between Halloween and Thanksgiving is filled with personal loss anniversaries, those of my second husband and both parents as well as a double handful of friends. When I say loss, I mean death. It’s fascinating to notice how often we slip into euphemism when we talk about death. Passed away, passed on, crossed the rainbow bridge, departed, deceased, left, lost… but they all mean death. Can there be a greater or more inevitable change in life than death? Is it healthy to try so hard to deny or ignore what can’t be avoided? Would we feel very differently about death if our culture taught everyone to see death as a natural consequence of life? The only euphemism I’ve heard that I respond positively to is “walked on”, a phrase sometimes used in American Tribal communities. That resonates with my feeling that we do indeed travel into another reality beyond ordinary sight or knowing.

Talking About Death Won’t Kill Us

I think the best way we can learn to see death in a different light is by having open conversations about it. That’s where the Death Cafe comes in. The idea was sparked in Europe, moved to England in 2011, and soon spread to the US and Australasia. Neither a therapy session nor grief counseling, Death Cafes involve group-directed conversations about death. What’s your own experience with death? Do you ever think about your own death? Trained facilitators are on hand to guide a faltering conversation or comfort someone who might need individual support for a little while, but for the most part, these conversations are far-ranging and fascinating and often funny. There may be laughter as well as thoughtful or tearful silence, and silences are as welcome as spoken thoughts.

Above all, there’s cake. One unfailing tradition of the Death Cafe movement is that talking about death goes better when there’s plenty of cake, and perhaps a cup of tea. Last week, a Death Cafe offered by the Senior Center was over-subscribed, and the in-person events was followed by a zoom version that was also full. Sadly, we were not able to share tea or sliced cake (per Health Department/covid19 regulations), but we could step outside to enjoy delicious cupcakes during the break. The conversations at each table had gone well before the cake break, but were decidedly livelier afterward. Sharing food is one of humanity’s oldest ceremonies, and the refreshments brought comfort to the participants and ease to the talk. At the end, the evaluations were overwhelmingly positive and nearly everyone said they would definitely be interested in another Death Cafe as well as similar ones focused on climate change and ecological devastation. And of course, more cake!

Cafe Cupcakes

Here’s my family’s favorite pumpkin cupcake recipe, crunchy with pecans and lively with bits of dried tart cherries to balance the sweetness. The lemony glaze adds even more zip and is also lovely on scones or zucchini bread.

Pumpkin Cherry Cupcakes

2-1/4 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon each ground ginger and coriander
1/2 teaspoon each of ground cardamom and cinnamon
1/2 butter, at room temperature (very soft)
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1-1/2 cups pumpkin puree
2 large eggs
2/3 cup plain yogurt
1/2 cup chopped pecans or any nut
1/2 cup chopped dried tart cherries

Line two standard muffin tins with muffin cups, set aside. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Sift together dry (first 6 listed) ingredients, set aside. Cream butter and sugars, blend in pumpkin pulp, eggs and yogurt. Blend in dry ingredients and stir in nuts and cherries and spoon quickly into muffin tins. Bake at 375 F until set (23-25 minutes), then remove to a cooling rack. When cupcakes cool to room temperature, dip or drizzle with glaze (see below) or any favorite icing. Makes 24 standard cupcakes.

Lemony Glaze

2+ cups confectioner’s sugar
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (or any)
1 teaspoon zested lemon rind
pinch of salt
1 tablespoon unsalted butter

Put in the microwave for 30-40 seconds or combine in a saucepan over medium heat and cook for about 1 minute, stirring constantly. Let stand for 5 minutes, then adjust thickness with more lemon juice or powdered sugar. Drizzle over cooled cupcakes or dip them into the glaze and return to the cooling rack until the glaze sets up.

 

 

 

Posted in Birds In The Garden, Care & Feeding, Health & Wellbeing, Nutrition, Pollination Gardens, Recipes, Sustainable Gardening, Sustainable Living, Winterizing | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

Recycling Halloween Aftermath

Posted on November 1, 2021 by Ann Lovejoy
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Homemade Plastic-Free Halloween Decorations

Composting Pumpkins & Stuffing Stuffies

Last night, our modest community experienced our first Halloween costume parade event. Though only a handful of our 50 homeowners put up decorations, those that did, did it with delightful gusto and exuberance. Rather than have door-to-door trick or treating, treat tables were set out near the most decorated homes, offering treat bags, light sticks and small toys to costumed kids. We invited our neighbors from nearby condos to join us, and someone unknown posted the event on social media, so we had a larger response than anticipated. Fortunately, the result wasn’t overwhelming this year, but so many people asked about next year that we realized that we were at risk of setting ourselves up for repeat performances; on Bainbridge Island, anything fun tends to get turned into an annual event. What have we done?

This morning, the debate was about both commitment (are we obliged to do this again?) and about holiday decor protocol; how long can seasonal decorations be left in place? When does something fun and cute start to look dirty and neglected? Though our pumpkins and gourds aren’t going away yet, I immediately removed the clingy, stretchy fake spider webbing beloved of local kiddos. For one thing, I don’t want birds to get tangled in this stuff. For another, once it gets wet, it’s un-recyclable trash. If gathered up quickly enough, this fine-spun polyester fiber makes fine stuffing for soft toys-in fact, it’s basically the same thing as the commercial stuffing, but differently extruded. Fortunately, all of our fluffy stuff is now clean of leaves, dry, and safely repackaged for stuffy-making. Unfortunately, there are ragged, tattered sheets of this stuff all over the neighborhood, the island, the county, the state, the country. Ack!

Sustainable Holiday Decorations

I’ve never used the fake spider webbing before but I admit that I got suckered by youthful enthusiasm. Regrettable, right? However, I’ve already started developing patterns for crocheted webs and knitted spiders for next year. Made of cotton, linen, wool and fluffy angora (for spider legs, of course), our future decorations will be usable for many years to come. When at last they expire, they can be composted, just like the pumpkins and squash and long threaded swags of colorful fall foliage we make. As long as we use natural fiber twine or thread to make leafy or floral or evergreen swags, the whole business can be tossed in the compost or the green waste bin when colors fade and needles drop.

With a little advanced planning, we can extend this same rethinking to other kinds of decorations. When my grandkids wanted some plastic holiday decorations with long, fluttering ribbons, we made our own versions with cardboard, colored paper and crepe paper streamers. The kiddos always enjoy making things, so I keep their craft table stocked with supplies and rarely need to suggest anything to make, as they are always full of more or less practical ideas. I figure anything not dangerous is worth a try, and experimentation is an important life skill. If failures are treated as puzzles to be worked out, some very ingenious solutions may emerge from the (harmless) wreckage.

Living Trees & Edible Decorations

Though my grandkids celebrate the winter holidays at their own home, we have found some lovely ways to decorate around my little home and garden as well. Rather than bringing a cut tree indoors, we decorate living trees with swags of plain popcorn and apple slices. We stuff fat pinecones with natural, unsalted peanut butter and roll them in sunflower seeds we saved from our towering flowers. This is a super sticky, fairly messy process so it’s wise to have some wet rags, a washable table covering, and a large drop cloth in place before the revels begin.

Wild Bird Seed Cookies

5-6 cups wild bird seed mix
1 cup organic coconut oil
1 cup organic natural peanut butter (no sugar, no salt)

Put coconut oil and peanut butter in a bowl in the oven with just the oven light on and the door closed for about half an hour to soften. Lightly oil the inside of your cookie cutters, then place them on a rimmed baking sheet. Mix as many seeds as possible into the softened oil and peanut butter, then pack cookie cutters with the mixture all the way to the top (they’ll be about an inch thick). Now insert a few toothpicks bunched together or a small dowel into each cookie to make a hole for a string to hang the cookies with. Let the cookies firm up completely before removing them from the cutters. If your house is warm, try putting the baking sheet outside for half an hour or so to firm up. Thread the cookies with natural fiber string or yarn and hang them on an outdoor tree where birds can get them but cats can’t (important where cats are allowed to roam outside). Depending on the size of your cookie cutters, this makes about 8-10 small cookies or 4-6 larger ones.

 

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Celebrating With Plants & Pumpkins

Posted on October 25, 2021 by Ann Lovejoy
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Nature’s tapestry ofrenda

Reimagining Traditional Holidays

Yesterday an arborist pointed out a small colony of dwarf mistletoe, nestled high in a Douglas fir. I associate mistletoe with apple trees and winter holiday traditions, but this species (Arceuthobium douglasii) is a harmful if minor parasite, with ‘kissing cousins’ that attack other needled evergreens. Like the European mistletoe used in ancient pagan Solstice rites as well as yuletide kissing bunches, this native has viscous berries that burst when ripe, shooting sticky seeds as much as 30 feet, where they glue them to branches and create new colonies. Unlike European mistletoe, which has a long history as a medicinal plant with supernatural powers, our native dwarf species is apparently just a pathetic parasite with no obvious redeeming value.

As we all take deeper looks at many of our cultural traditions and assumptions, some are proving to be just as empty of benefit as dwarf mistletoe. Apparently. But even the hollow husks of some discredited holidays may contain seeds of value. I’m especially interested in reviewing holiday traditions these days, as their origins are being subjected to greater scrutiny. Halloween, one of my own favorite holidays, is a rich example; how did it move from a hallowed ritual to a candy holiday for kids? Like other, more major holidays, Halloween morphed over time, melding several ancient Northern hemisphere traditions associated with the waning of the year. It owes a lot to Samhain (pronounced sow-een, like hallow ‘een), pre-Christian Celtic festivities that involved bonfires to drive away darkness and costumes to confuse wandering ghosts. In 993 BCE, the Catholic church proclaimed October 31 All Souls Day, while November 1 became All Saints Day. In some countries, All Souls is like Memorial Day, a time for everyone to remember their dead in different ways. In North America, Halloween’s ghosts and ghouls and skeletons keep the fear of death to the fore, while in Mexico, Dia de los Muertos is a kindly, cheerful celebration of lost lives, focusing on appreciation and positive memories.

A Garden Ofrenda

Millions of people create ofrendas or shrines for Dia de los Muertos each October, filling them with pictures of the dead as well as decorated votive candles and flowers. Millions of flowers are grown especially for this holiday, notably marigolds, with their brilliant, sunny colors. For some years now, I’ve made outdoor ofrendas to honor the passing of summer and the swing of the seasons. This has been a marvelous year for fall color, so it’s easy to gather armloads of leaves stained gold or coral or bronze or blood red, adding sheaves of sunny calendulas for floral highlights. It’s especially fun to arrange leaves in artful sweeps along garden walks and public paths to entice walkers to pause and admire nature’s palette. These sweeps emulate nature’s ofrendas, gorgeous tapestries of colorful autumn leaves that shift with the wind (which there’s quite a bit of today, the aftermath of the “cyclone bomb” weekend storm).

I also love making fanciful costumes and so does my family, who this year are making matched pairs; a mosquito and a drop of blood; a moth and a lamp post. (I’m going as a fluffy pink unicorn, how about you?) We enjoy decorating with lights and candles, pumpkins and gourds as well as fallen leaves and bright flowers. Living in a mobile home park, of course it’s also necessary to have vampire flamingos and crows with flashing red eyes. All this is great fun, but even more valuable to me is the tenderness and good cheer of the ofrenda tradition. People picnic near the shrines and surround pictures of their dead with candles and lanterns, favorite foods, a glass of spiritous liquor such as tequila, candy and treats. There’s joyful music and dancing, story telling and exchanges of memories happy and poignant and sad. Sorrow is not denied a place at the picnic table of memory, but it’s interwoven with strands of gladness for love and lives shared. Our northern candy holiday tradition could be greatly enriched by intermingling with the loving, vibrant traditions of our southern neighbors, with their acceptance of grief and loss as natural parts of a life fully lived.

The Sweet Taste Of Sorrow

Traditional ofrenda foods include empanadas and enchiladas, various forms of mole, often with a bitter chocolate base, as well as any kind of favorite foods. The idea is that as family and friends savor the flavors, the spirit of shared food unites the spirits of the people as well. Sweet drinks like hot chocolate are also included, especially welcome on cold autumn days and nights. Sweet breads of many kinds are traditional ofrenda treats, from pan de muerto (‘bread of the dead’) to sweet potato or pumpkin breads. One of our sugar pumpkins took a tumble and after the largest pieces got roasted, they turned into this spicy pumpkin bread. It calls for 2 cups of cooked pumpkin pulp but a 15-ounce can of pumpkin works just fine too.

Spicy Pumpkin Bread

2 cups unbleached flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon each ground cinnamon and coriander
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper (optional)
3/4 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 cups sugar
2 large eggs
2 cups cooked pumpkin puree

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. (Lower than usual, yes.) Butter two standard (8.5×4.5×2.5”) loaf pans, set aside. Sift together dry ingredients, set aside. Cream butter and sugar, then add eggs one at a time, stirring in well. Mix in pumpkin, then stir in dry ingredient until completely blended. Divide batter between the two loaf pans and bake at 325 F for 60-75 minutes, or until toothpick comes out clean. Let cool 10 minutes, then remove from pans to cool completely on a rack. Serves at least one. Even better the next day!

Spooky and spirited Halloween art

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Home Style French Soups

Posted on October 18, 2021 by Ann Lovejoy
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Pureed potato leek (and kale) soup with fresh herb garnish

Garden-Based Cool Season Soups

Recent oral surgery has me disgruntledly following a complicated and fussy regimen that disallows such delights as anything chewable and even restricts hot tea (!!!) for the first week or so. As I sullenly sip tepid soup (no texture allowed) and eat yet another serving of plain yogurt (to counter the sweeping effects of antibiotics), I’m entertaining (torturing) myself my re-reading favorite cookbooks. A few comments and questions about last week’s post on simple food led me back to Richard Olney’s classic cookbook, Simple French Food. Though he never experienced the public fame of James Beard or Julia Childs, Olney was highly regarded amongst professional chefs and food writers in the 60s and 70s. He’s credited with being among the influential few who re-shaped American cookery by popularizing French cuisine in a day when prepared and packaged food was becoming increasingly available and popular.

A decent writer, he’s wry, opinionated and sometimes amusing, and anyone who enjoys reading books about life in small Provencal villages will definitely appreciate the glimpses of his chosen home town of Sollies-Toucas, a beautiful (of course) place in the Cote d’Azur region. Olney lived there from the early 1950s until his death in 1999, and spent his time painting (not very well), cooking (very well), and writing about food (very well indeed) as well as his unmemorable memoirs. Like most of his contemporaries, Olney’s cookbook features a lot of meat, but he has time for vegetables as well, especially appreciating the “meaty” qualities of beans(!). He offers recipes for a number of vegetable purees, among which I most enjoyed the brothy ones. French water-based soups always have the clean, fresh taste of vegetables, rather than heavier, often greasy soups made with chicken or meat stock. I always prefer lighter, vegetable-based soups with self-broths that highlight the garden-fresh flavors.

Perfectly Simple Potato Leek Soup

A few years back, I wrote about an extremely simple version of French potato leek soup found in Olney’s cookbook. Where most potato leek soup recipes rely heavily on butter and cream or milk, Olney reports that such a recipe would very much surprise French cooks whose home style versions rarely include dairy ingredients. He does finish his version of this classic with a bit of butter in each bowl, but chopped herbs make an equally delicious garnish and also keep the soup vegan for those who prefer it. The recipe I posted, offered here again with a little update, is too simple for many people, who can’t resist gussying it up with a bit of this or that. It definitely does gussy up nicely, and almost anything from smoked salmon to kale and fresh herbs will complement it. However, there’s a reason that the plain version below is served nightly in many working class French homes and it’s not simply economy. Made with excellent ingredients, this soup is both satisfyingly delicious and even mildly addictive. Gussy if you must, but do t least try a bowlful, enjoying a mellowing glass of wine while it cooks. Bon appetite!

Home Style French Soup

I make this soup with avocado oil, which lends this soup a rich, buttery flavor, but a fruity olive oil works is more traditional. The version seen above included kale, and was pureed because my current condition requires it, but pureeing is a good way to make any soup seem creamier even without added dairy ingredients.

French Potato Leek Soup

1+ teaspoon sea salt
3 fat leeks, thinly sliced (white and pale green parts only)
3-4 medium potatoes, quartered and sliced
1-2 tablespoons avocado oil or olive oil or butter
few grinds pepper
2 tablespoons minced fresh herbs (optional)

Combine 2 quarts of water with the salt and bring to a brisk boil. Add leeks and potatoes, reduce heat and simmer until potatoes are quite tender but still mostly intact (30-40 minutes). Add a splash of oil or some butter, adjust seasoning (salt, really) and serve, with a bit of freshly ground pepper and fresh herbs for garnish. Serves 4.

A Different French Onion Soup

Here’s another autumnal recipe that’s lovely in this simple vegan form and can be gussied very pleasantly as well. If you don’t want to use the apple and green onion garnish, try grated Gruyere or Pecorino cheese instead (it will taste more like the usual French onion soups). This lighter version always reminds me of a magical time when Italian fellow students and I helped with the vendange at an ancient farmstead near Aix-en-Provence. The grapes were rose or purple or pale green, silvery with bloom, and we dumped our full buckets into big woven baskets slung over the sides of a velvety grey donkey wearing a floppy hat trimmed with flowers.

French Kale And Onion Soup

1/4 cup fruity olive oil
3 large onions, thinly sliced
1+ teaspoon sea salt
3-4 cloves garlic, chopped
2 teaspoons stemmed thyme
6 cups chopped kale
1/2 cup dry white OR red wine
6 cups boiling water
4 slices of crusty bread, toasted
1/2 cup finely chopped crisp apple
2 green onions, finely sliced

Put oil in a soup pan over medium low heat, add onions and salt and cook until soft and golden (20-30 minutes). Increase heat and cook, stirring often, until onions are lightly caramelized (10-15 minutes). Add garlic, thyme and kale, cover pan and cook until kale is dark green and soft (5-8 minutes), stirring occasionally. Add wine, increase heat to medium high and cook until wine is reduced by half. Add boiling water, reduce heat to low and simmer for 20-30 minutes. Break up a slice of toast in each of four bowls, fill with soup, garnish with cheese (if using) and serve. Serves 4.

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