Ofrenda For The Death Of Summer

Making peace with beauty in death may require fresh eyes

Honoring The Fallen

Autumn leaves in all their astonishing colors, from vivid brilliance to subfusk murk, make my heart sing. My grandkids and I love to gather them up and make patchwork edges to garden paths and entryways. On my daily walks, I feel like I’m treading on a tapestry richer than anything human arts can devise. I still love to kick my way through the heaps of leaves that gather along sidewalks and curbs, enjoying the satisfying crunch as much as the visual glory. You don’t even need to look up to know what you’re walking near; golden coins of poplar scatter in a glowing carpet, first joined then overtaken by burning stars of sweetgum which give way to toast tinted elm leaves and gilded sparks of birch. The pavement becomes the canvas for a natural artwork that changes with the wind.

As October shifts into November, I love to create leafy ofrendas, both in the garden and in public places. For years now, I’ve been making them at our local art museum, whose annual ofrenda event spans the last gasp of October and the birth of November. It marks the Day Of The Dead, honoring All Saints and All Souls in a joyful, sorrowful celebration full of offerings and memories, feasts and music, and many, many flowers. Since our climate isn’t able to produce marigolds (the traditional ofrenda flower) in autumn, people make do with flowers of all kinds for the ofrenda altar itself. Outside, friends and I’ve been making great sweeping wings of foliage and flowers that welcome visitors like open arms.

Wings Of Welcome

These wings have a base of cedar and sequoia which hold less weighty plants in place. We blend brown bracken and deep green sword fern fronds, fresh fall flowers with fading summer blooms, crisp brown oak leaves with dazzling maple leaves. This year, frosty mornings nipped the dahlias and local growers sent us armloads of still-lovely blossoms as well as browning, battered ones. Gardeners brought masses of hydrangeas which shifted the palette from browns and golds to soft blues and rosy pinks.

This year, we had an arch to work with which we imagined as a gateway to the Day Of The Dead and an honoring of the Death of Summer. Tall sheafs of spent flowers made a tracery against the sky like the bare branches of trees in winter. Below them, we wove summery remnants into mosaics with flowers and foliage, berries and moss, lichens and curls of peeling bark. Made to last just a few days, these vignettes are poignant reminders of seasonal change, the more lovely for being vulnerable to wind and rain. Like sand mandelas that are finished, observed, then swept away, these temporary artworks don’t need longevity to make them valuable. For me, both making and seeing these assemblages brings joy, reminding me to be grateful for the glory. In these dark days, it feels healthy and healing and important for the culture and the planet for us all to take joy wherever possible. Not to grab it grimly and hold tight as long a possible, but to appreciate joy and beauty and gratefulness for even a few fleeting moments. Onward, right?

 

Posted in Annual Color, Care & Feeding, Gardening With Children, Health & Wellbeing, Plant Diversity, Sustainable Gardening, Sustainable Living | Tagged | 1 Comment

Fogs and Frogs

Tiny tree frogs love to live in flowers

(Please) Do Not Disturb

Despite prognostications about a dry year, the autumn rains have arrived with vigor, sometimes in glorious storms alive with lightning and rumbling thunder along with sudden torrential downpours. Many morning, the island is smothered in heavy fog that lies like a thick grey blanket, hushing sounds and muting the still-brilliant fall foliage. The rains also woke up dormant tree frogs who serenade me with a lusty croaking chorus as I putter in the garden. A friend shared this image from her garden a few days ago, reminding me of all the times I’ve found these beautiful little creatures snuggled up in a blossom bed. For several years, a large clump of daylilies was rarely without a tiny green companion, who moved from a fading flower to a fresh one each morning.

These clever critters estivate during our dry summers, waking up with the returning rains and spending the winters dozing fitfully, sleeping during a freeze and reawakening to forage for food through the long thaws. Once while tidying up a border I disturbed a larger frog, carefully wrapped in what looked like a bundle of dried leaves caught in a cleft between hydrangea stems. I rewrapped it carefully, hoping that it would make it through the winter despite my bumbling but ever since, I’ve been more cautious about clearing up the beds and borders. Most of the hundreds of bee species native to the northwest coast are ground dwellers so instead of doing comprehensive border renovations, I try to minimize ground disturbance when tucking in bulbs and dividing overgrown perennials.

Mushrooms Of Hope

It’s been a bleak and difficult month around here, with devastating world news overlapping painful family news and heartbreaking anniversaries. I’m subject to news creep, which can be debilitating, so in self defense I’ve retreated once again from drinking the toxin of daily news and am keeping my focus local for now. Even the science news briefs and blogs I follow are really hard reading sometimes as it becomes every more obvious that we humans are apparently fatally incapable of self restraint. One thing that gives me hope is the resurgence of mushrooms, which are popping up everywhere as the rains soak into summer-dry soil. Pioneer Paul Stametz has opened our eyes to the truly astonishing ability of fungi to heal soil and heal diseases in both plants and people. As I ramble around on my daily walks, it’s heartening to see mushrooms, slime molds, and other fungi emerging from dormancy and know that they are doing deep healing work underneath the surface. If we succeed in destroying life giving aspects of our planet, fungi will (eventually) reinvent a new way of living on Earth.

For now, I’m feeling grateful for the free exchange of life supporting oxygen and carbon dioxide between trees and many living things. Walking in the neighborhoods or strolling in the woods, sharing breath with trees keeps us all alive. Gratitude can be hard work in dire times like these dark days, yet there’s no refreshment in depression, no strength and no renewal in despair. A dear friend used to talk about “yes and” situations in which something dreadful is definitely true AND there is also always something to be grateful for. Finding that something can feel like a stretch but as we know, it’s good for minds and bodies both to get out of our ruts and stretch. It’s also good to take a big lung filling breath and thank the trees for their generosity. Onward, right?

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Late Blooms For Lingering Bees

bee on rose

If the little movie above doesn’t open for you, here’s my favorite bee pic

20-20-20 Trick For Tired Eyes

A recent visit to my eye doctor has motivated me to do more daily walking, rain or shine. A post-cataract removal secondary film had clouded my favorite eye so it got laser-zapped to break up the obscuring material. When my eye doctor did a follow up check, he offered me a simple treatment for eye strain that’s changing my world view(!). So many things I do involve close-up vision, from reading and computer work to knitting and embroidery to pruning and weeding, and my aging eyes just don’t change focus range as readily as they once did. The remedy he offered is called 20-20-20; for every 20 minutes of close up work, take 20 seconds to look at something at least 20 feet away. Simple, right? And very effective; After just a week, I already notice my eyes refocusing more quickly and being less fatigued through the day.

Now that I’m setting my phone timer to chime every 20 minutes through the day, I decided that I might as well get up and move a little while I’m looking around so I add in a 30-second dance party for one. Spending one minute out of every 20 on self care turns out to have several pleasant benefits; even a few seconds of jigging about can enliven my body and I return to my task refreshed mentally as well as physically. I’ve also been trying to get up and walk around for 5 minutes for every hour of sitting, and tossing that into the mix is also helpful. A recent Cornell study indicates that doing laundry and dishes, cooking and cleaning all count as exercise as long as you do them in an active manner. Dancing through the dishes definitely makes it much more fun. Why not?

Late And Early Together

I find it most helpful to walk outside for a few minutes every hour or so. First of all, it gets me out of the house no matter what the weather, and once out, I find it easier to set the day’s worries and concerns aside for a while. Feeling the wind and/or the drizzle on my face provides a highly effective wake up and practicing the long view reminds me to look up and admire the tree tops, the soaring birds, the wind-blown clouds. However, I can’t resist stopping to admire the flowers along the way, which at this season mingle late summer blooms with early winter ones. In my garden, native penstemons are still blooming a bit, along with some sweet peas that have persisted long past their usual season. Shaggy calendulas are nearly always blooming at least a bit and the recent rains have encouraged a fresh flush of buds and blooms that are busy with bees all day long. The indefatigable catmints are throwing out their third or fourth set of long arms, each tipped with clusters of deep or paler blue florets that are pollinator magnets, as are the tiny but bright purple blooms on the ornamental oreganos.

There are usually a few hummingbirds sipping from the slim spikes of River lilies (Schizostylis), a South African iris cousin that opens its rosy or soft pink blossoms from October into March. The fragrant yellow spires of my Mahonia Soft Caress (an Oregon grape cousin) are just beginning to open and they’ll be feeding the hummers all winter long (barring deep freezes). Hummers are also fond of the late hardy fuchsias, as are bees and many other pollinators. I was mesmerized by a small native bee loading up its little leg sacs with the fluffy pollen on a late Rugosa rose, its strong perfume scenting the damp, cool air halfway down the block.

Gentle Tidying Protects Pollinators

The happy melange of old and new flowers makes it important to tidy with care at this in between season. While pollinators are still expending energy to cruise the garden, it’s up to us to make sure their efforts are rewarded. It’s easier to cut everything down all at once, but that’s not really good stewardship of our little piece of the Earth. Instead, if you can’t bear to look at an untidy jumble all winter, remove spent stems and failing foliage gently, using the chop and drop technique to keep the nutrients stored in plant material right where they can do the most good. Leave the pieces as large and long as you can stand to see them (tidy minded people often have an issue with this part) and let the pieces lie to molder into compost right beside the mother plants.

Many a hollow stem and dried seedhead is already home to a slumbering pollinator or benign or helpful insect. Many more will join them soon, so in order to protect them, it’s important that we disturb the winter garden as little as possible. When planting bulbs or adding new perennials to beds and borders, keep the digging as minimal as possible. That’s because most of our native bees are ground dwellers whose eggs are already stored in tiny dormitories beneath the mulch. Walking on wet soil can compress it lethally, enough to damage the soil itself and to crush hibernating soil dwellers as well. To avoid this, use a walking board that will spread the weight over a larger area, thus doing less damage. Walk softly and leave that big stick right where it is! Onward, right?

 

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She Walks!

Cherishing the last of the basil

Getting Inventive With Zucchini

Late breaking news: As of this week, my daughter is walking around the neighborhood by herself. This is HUGE progress and we are both thrilled and delighted. Speaking of progress, persistent technical difficulties have now been cleared up so these posts will once agan reach you. Onward, right?

About That Zucchini

One of my favorite aspects of this time of year is the way friends and neighbors love to hand out extra vegetables. Whenever I share extra plants in the summer, a sweet share of the harvest appears like magic on my porch: little piles of ripe tomatoes, garlic, a handful of tender pole beans, a fat winter squash, and of course zucchini. LOTS of zucchini. I know some people complain about getting zucched, but to me, it’s a lovely gift, especially this year when I really didn’t have the capacity to tend my garden beyond a loving, regretful minimum.

There are so many things to do with this delicious squash, from savory pancakes and fritters to risotto and stir fries and of course it can be added to all sort of soups. I sneak it into casseroles and stews, add it to chili and pasta sauce, and even put shredded zucchini into chicken pot pie. Best of all, I know my daughter is getting her vegetables even if she doesn’t realize it. There are plenty of ways to hide zucchini, but why not let it shine? To me, it’s best cooked quickly so it doesn’t turn to mush. The thick, hearty soup below cooks fast, so the firm, late harvest zucchini still has a pleasant texture. See what you think!

A Little Pesto Goes A Long Way

This afternoon I made some pesto with the last of my plants which were fading fast in the now-chilly nights. It’s a super quick very easy vegan recipe (no cheese, because I don’t have any right now) that adds body and that enticing, crave-able flavor to pretty much anything and even freezes beautifully. You really don’t miss the cheese as it’s plenty rich thanks to the oil and ground up nuts. Sometimes I use all walnuts or almonds or cashews, but this time I used mixed nuts because we were just given some (porch gift!) that also included hazelnuts and pecans. Why not?

Speedy Vegan Pesto

6 cups basil leaves, stems and blossoms (not packed)
1/2 cup roasted, salted mixed nuts
2 very large cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
2 tablespoons avocado oil (or any)
1/8 teaspoon salt (taste before adding this as the nuts might be enough salt for you.
A little freshly ground pepper

Combine everything but salt and pepper in a food processor and grind to a fine slurry. Season to taste and use within 3 days or freeze. I freeze it in a dedicated ice cube tray and store the cubes in a freezer container to add a little to dressings, sauces, etc. later on.

Perfect Pesto Soup

This soup was made with what I had on hand (grated carrot, roasted cauliflower, roasted chicken, freshly made pesto) and despite the somewhat random nature of the ingredients, it makes a perfect meal on a chilly, drizzly day. If you don’t have all the ingredients, you can always add, omit and edit as you see fit. Gotta say the roasted cauliflower lends this soup wonderful depth, though (easiest ever recipe below, if you want to try it). I just added enough pesto to give this speedy soup a warm, satisfying flavor without overpowering the other ingredients but more would be lovely too.

Chicken and Vegetable Soup With Pesto

1 teaspoon avocado or vegetable oil
1/2 onion, chopped
1/4 teaspoon salt 
 (I used basil salt recipe from last week)
1 stalk celery, chopped
1 cup grated carrot
1 cup shredded kale
2 medium zucchini, chopped
2 cups cooked chicken, diced
3 cups roasted cauliflower
2-3 tablespoons pesto

In a soup pot, combine oil, onions and salt over medium high heat and cook until barely soft (2-3 minutes). Add celery, carrot, kale and zucchini, stir to coat and cook for 5 minutes. Stir in chicken, cover pan and cook for 5 minutes. Add cauliflower (if using) and water to barely cover everything. Bring to a simmer, stir in pesto to taste and serve hot. Makes about 6 delectable cups.

Irresistible Roasted Cauliflower

1 head cauliflower
2 teaspoons avocado oil (or any high temp oil)
1/4 teaspoon salt (I used rosemary garlic salt, 
 recipe from last week)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Cut cauliflower florets into similarly bite sized pieces, leaving some stem on them and adding and smaller leaves. Pour oil in a rimmed baking sheet and sprinkle with half the salt, add cauliflower and toss to coat. Sprinkle with remaining salt and bake at 400 for 20 minutes. Stir with a spatula, return to oven and bake for another 15-20 minutes until well browned on at least one side. Serves at least one.

Posted in Care & Feeding, fall/winter crops, Health & Wellbeing, preserving food, Recipes, Sustainable Gardening, Sustainable Living, Vegan Recipes | Tagged , , | 4 Comments