Category Archives: Family

Far Out

Fall                                                                           Samhain Moon

Jazz at Barbette.  Kate and I have begun to go, every once in a while, to the jazz and dinner combinations co-ordinated by Kevin Barnes of KBEM.  Tonight the meal was at Barbette and the music, jazz guitar, by his brother, Brian Barnes.

If you’ve not been to Barbette, it’s a stainglass lights, art of many qualities on the walls kind of place coupled with the sort of small, but beautiful presentations that mean you’ve just paid a lot for the meal. Tables are set somewhat close together and there was, at least tonight, a genuine air of bonhomie.  The wait staff are quick, delicate and attentive.

Each course had a different craft or Belgian beer associated with it so I passed mine to Kate.  The first, a Duvel, came with the pretzel course.  Never have I seen pretzels so daintily and prettily presented and accompanied by a hot mustard sauce, a shallot marmalade and a wonderful gouda cheese sauce.  Tasty.

The second, a Maredsous, came with gravlax, collard greens and small discs of grits. Sounds weird, but it was pretty good.  The third, a Chouffe, graced a strange and new food experience for me, pork belly.  Now when I say pork belly you may think of bacon but in this case I believe they cut a square section out of a pork belly and cooked it.  I have a very broad palate, more gourmand than gourmet, and I like most things, but this had way too much fat for my taste.  And, of course, I didn’t have the Chouffe to wash it down with. Quel domage.

The final dish was a deconstructed smore with a square of marshmallow topped by a scatter of broken nuts, a tablespoon size and shape piece of ice cream all on a swoosh of chocolate. Outside my low to no carb emphasis, as was the pretzel, but I went ahead anyway.  Pretty good.

We had a university lecturer and her husband, a businessman and his wife, and two militant atheists, one of whom worked for the health insurance industry at our table.

In these settings I find listening to conversation can be a challenge though Barbette wasn’t terrible.

A fun evening.  Oh, and every one said oh! when they asked where we were from and we said Andover.  “So far.”  “That’s a ways.”

 

 

Outdoors

Fall                                                                              Samhain Moon

The mid-point of October and we’re almost done with gardening.  We broadcast under the cherry and plum trees today, removing the mulch, taking up the landscape cloth, laying down the fertilizer and spraying the biotill, then replacing the landscape cloth.  After the nap I helped Kate get the landscape cloth back down, then while she rejoined it with staples to the ground, I sprayed biotill on the vegetable garden beds and mulched all of them but the herb spiral.

(Persephone and Hades)

The raspberries, which I picked this morning, are still producing and the leeks await a cooking day when I will make chicken leek pot pies, next week probably.   The leek bed will get fertilized, sprayed and mulched when they are inside while cutting down the raspberry canes, then spraying and fertilizing has to wait until they quit bearing.

This was significant manual labor and we’re both in the weary phase.  A quiet evening leaf tea bowlahead.  Some Latin right now for me.

My new teaware came, a clay bamboo holder for my tea utensils, a new pitcher made of yixing clay with a white ceramic glaze inside and a rosewood tea scoop.  All of this from a shop in Vancouver that has excellent products, The Chinese Teashop.

Samhain for the Vegetable Garden

Fall                                                                                Samhain Moon

While picking raspberries this afternoon, I looked at the garden beds we cleared this week.potatopatch670 There is the suntrap where we had all those tiny tomatoes and the two plants of huge heirloom Brandywines and Cherokee Purples.  The asparagus bed, the little mound still tufted with the green of asparagus stalks, got over taken this year by the exuberant ground cherries that grew and grew and grew and would still be growing if we hadn’t decided enough and pulled them.

South of the suntrap is the first bed in the vegetable garden, one made of logs, made long enough ago by Jon that I’ve had to replace the logs around it already at least once.  This year it had sugar snap peas, cucumbers, egg plants, broccoli, and hot peppers.  It’s had many crops over the 16 or so years its been in place.

Next to it is a bed that we’d given over to dicentra and bugbane because of the wonderful ash tree we allowed to grow large in the garden.  They’re shade lovers.  This year, with the emerald ash borer coming and a long standing desire to open up more sun in the garden, we had the ash taken down and planted this bed with its first vegetable crop in years:  yellow tomatoes and yellow peppers.  They thrived.

When Jon originally built the raised beds, I asked him to be creative, mix up the shapes and the materials.  The first one he tried was made of tin roofing.  It worked ok, but he preferred working with 2×4’s after that.  Now it’s half daisy.  The other half this year had a productive small tomato plant and couple of so-so pepper plants.  I made one obvious mistake.  I planted a pepper to the west of the tomato plant and it never thrived.

The long bed, the extra large bed, this year had beets and carrots, a couple of crops.  It also has a persistent asian lily crop that comes from the short time I used the beds as cutting gardens.  After treating the lilies as weeds (a plant out of place), they have become confined (mostly) to the extreme south end of the bed.

To the east of the extra large bed are two similar sized beds.  The north one this year hadIMAG0955cropped1000 onions and garlic and the southern bed had beets (didn’t do well) and greens (which did).  The leeks are in the long mound west of the extra large bed, doing well, still growing.

Our raspberry patch is up against the fence and behind the wisteria.  Its growth has shaded out a small bed that this year had only a crop of asian lilies.  North of it is the strawberry bed and north of that the herb spiral.

The beds we cleared are the ones on which I broadcast fertilizer last week and they’re now mulched, extra large and two similar sized ones, or awaiting mulch from this year’s leaf fall.  These beds are brown, bare of plant material for the first time since May.  They look bereft, but they’re not.  In the top six inches of soil small colonies of microbes, bacteria, fungi, worms and insects are busy, working together to create a fertile spot for next year’s garden.  It’ll be the best one ever.

Gotta Get Back to the Garden

Fall                                                                          Harvest Moon

A full day with the garden, spreading fertilizer, working it into the soil, mulching the beds. Also pulled out the tomatoes, ground cherries and peppers while Kate removed the cucumbers, hot peppers and marigolds.  The compost pile looks colorful.

As I worked, I wondered about the significance of our garden for our lives, for the questions around reimagining faith.  At one level it feels like aesthetic statement.  A claim about the beauty of productive land and its products.  At another it embodies our relationship as a joint work, a family project that yields food and time together.  Going against the grain of the modern emphasis on surface and the phenomenal it places us in touch with the under ground, the chthonic and its rich resources.  Too, it puts the natural world into our lives, integrates our life with the seasonal rhythms.  This goes against the modern emphasis on the new and making things new.  Growing food goes back 10,000 years in human history and eating from plants back to the first proto-human.

I wondered today if the post-modern might be a more eclectic era, a time with a willingness to look back into the human past and ahead into the human future with no need for the ideology of reason, fragmentation, the new, yet not being afraid to acknowledge the fruits of scientific reasoning, manufacturing, globalization.  Just putzing as I raked.

Wholeness

Lughnasa                                                                  Harvest Moon

Mabon eve.  The night before the fall equinox.  Tomorrow the light loses its struggle to own more than half of the day, a gain achieved back at the Summer Solstice in June.  From this point on the light diminishes and the darkness increases to its zenith at the Winter Solstice.

Been meaning to report on an interesting feeling I had at the Woolly meeting on Monday night.  I took two pies Kate had baked:  ground cherry and raspberry, both of fruit from our garden.  I also took a box of honey from our  hive, Artemis Honey with the label made by Mark Odegard.

When I left, after having sold 18 pounds of honey, I had a feeling of wholeness, that’s the best way I can describe it.  I had worked all season on the garden, the orchard and with the bees and somehow that evening I felt one with it all.

When I told Kate how I felt, I said it felt like something private was made public, that those two worlds knit together in one moment.  She said she got a similar feeling when she took food for a group, as she did so often for work and as she does now for her sewing days.

It was a good feeling, however understood.

My Mythic Past

Lughnasa                                                                           Honey Moon

Most of the day among the eddas of Snorri Sturluson and various books on German and Scandinavian mythology.  This is the material that lies beneath the Tailte trilogy, this one at least, and it has fascinated me for a long time.  Since over half of my ancestry is Germanic, this is the song of my people, the stories and tales which knit the world together for ancient northern Europeans.

(Snorri)

In my writing, mostly, I have focused on Celtic and northern European lore because they are my heritage, a vein I can mine without approbation of cultural encroachment.  I don’t believe that’s necessary, but it makes my psychic life easier.

I’m still trying to understand the elusive Loki, often called a trickster, but in the end an enemy of the Aesir, leading the giants and the unworthy dead against them.  The einherjar, the worthy dead, those who died in battle and were chosen by the Valkyries to feast in Valhalla until Ragnarok and the Aesir, the pantheon of Nordic gods fight to keep the world whole.  Loki is a character central to Loki’s Children and the book after that, The Unmaking, but he’s tough to define and will be a challenge to create.  That’s what makes him interesting, of course.

(Loki, the Trickster — artwork by Arthur Rackham, 1910)

A lot of the best scholarship on the eddas and other poems of the northern European tradition are in German and Scandinavian languages so it is sometimes a struggle to find decent material.  I’m lucky in one regard in that years ago, on a whim, I picked up a multi-volume work called the Norroena:  the history and romance of northern Europe.  It contains translations into English of the major works, up to date as of 1905.  I have read all the works in the Edda volume, a fascinating collection of stories put together by an Icelandic scholar, politician and Skald, Snorri Sturluson.

 

Midwest Grimoires

Lughnasa                                                                  Honey Moon

Finished spraying.  As the crops come in, the amount of spray needed diminishes.  Today I really only needed the reproductive spray because the remaining vegetables are mostly in that category:  tomatoes, ground cherries, egg plants, cucumbers, peppers, carrots. Granted there are a few beets, some chard and the leeks yet to harvest but they seem substantial already.  They also benefit from the showtime, nutrient drenches and the enthuse that I will spray on Saturday morning.

Kate roasted the broccoli and froze it.  She’s also making pickles today, cucumber and onion.  She’s in back to the land, earth mother mode and has been for several weeks.  She consults her canning, pickling, drying, freezing books like grimoires from calico clad wise women of the rural Midwest.  And does likewise, tweaking the recipes when she wants.

Third Phase: A Defining Stage

Lughnasa                                                                    Honey Moon101

We renewed Kate’s medical license today for another two years.  She’ll almost certainly not use it but a career defining document like that, woven tightly into her daily life for several decades, is not surrendered lightly.  Wrestling with who we were and who we are now is a defining stage of the third phase.

 

Garden Diary: 8.22.2013

Lughnasa                                                           Honey Moon

Perk-up soil drench and showtime for insect protection this morning.  Got up too late to do the brix blaster and qualify.  Tomorrow.  As the gardening season moves toward its end, I feel less urgency.  We’re on top of the tasks right now; we’ve already got a substantial harvest in and preserved.

BTW:  A lot of this gardening info is for my reference next year and in years to come so I apologize if it seems repetitive.

Cut down the broccoli this morning and picked a few more tomatoes.  We have 17 pints of tomatoes canned already with many more on the vine.

Kate’s taking advantage of her birthday present this morning and learning how to use the long arm quilter, a three-hour, one-on-one class.  When she gets the quilting side of quilting down, she’ll be able to take a project from start to finish.  Many can’t because the long-arm quilters are expensive take up a lot of space.

A Quiet Birthday

Lughnasa                                                                   Honey Moon

A quiet birthday as phone calls come in wishing the birthday girl well.  We had a long nap and have spent time reading after it.  Kate’s reading Orange Is The New Black, the prison2009 11 10_0592 memoir turned into a Netflix series which we watched a couple of weeks ago.  I’m reading Ninety Percent of Everything, a narrative about the merchant shipping industry.  After seven weeks of visiting ports throughout Latin America, I developed a strong curiosity about containers and container shipping.

This reading is a bit unusual since neither of us read a lot of non-fiction, leaning more toward mystery, thriller, fantasy and the classics.  I find I buy non-fiction and often leave it unread, or read it much later.

Later on tonight we plan to have a bonfire, a celebratory one, with sparklers and smores for Kate.