Tag Archives: nature

January 25, 2024 · 2:15 pm

New Beginning, New Kitchen Garden

monarch caterpillar on asclepius pod
Monarch Caterpillar on Asclepius pod in our herb garden

We’ve moved house. Aside from adapting to a new place and new people, I’m adapting to new land, new trees, new plants, and … a blank-ish slate. The people that lived here before weren’t gardeners, so aside from some unhappy grass and some mature perennial plantings that include hydrangeas (it being the cape and all), it’s a brand new start.

Since it’s seed catalog time and it’s too cold to be outside in the garden, my obvious move is to start planning the kitchen garden. Oh, yeah! Culinary and medicinal herbs, flowers and vegetables.

There were some key things about the herb garden at the farm:

  • I could walk barefoot out my kitchen door on a stone walkway to cut herbs for dinner.  Pure bliss.
  • It faced east, which meant it got great morning sun and much of the garden didn’t bake in the late afternoon summer sun. The bits that did get that sun where home to things like chamomile, lavender, verbena, hyssop, zinnia, monarda, yarrow … plant spirits that were happy with that setting.
  • There was a window from the kitchen onto the garden, so I had a good view of butterflies, hummingbirds, yellow finches, dragon flies, and other gorgeous pollinators and birds that hung out in the garden

There’s nothing like looking out the window and being confronted by a humming bird staring back at you or a praying mantis perched on the window frame. It’s like living in a charmed movie.

monarch on verbena flower

So I’m choosing a spot next to the back yard slider from the kitchen area. An east facing area isn’t available without removing trees, so I’ll have to make a spot that’s south west of the kitchen work, and I’ll ask our carpenter, Norm, to make stairs on that side of the deck so that I can walk directly to the garden … barefoot! 

tax map of property in Falmouth MA
tax map of our new house with a box where our new herb garden is going to be

Other things to prep – the soil here is full of clay and sand, which will mean compost, and lots of it, some stepping stones from a local landscape store, and a clear calendar starting in April.

garlic scrapes last year

This year I planted garlic in October in a bed I threw together hastily just to the south of where the herb garden is going to be, so I will design the gardens and their contents over coming weeks … more to come as the plan and the work evolve!

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July 26, 2023 · 11:37 am

Santorini

Santorini is volcanic, sun drenched. It’s dramatic, beautiful, and full of art. This week, it’s also hot as hell. There are fires in Rhodes – another island in the greek Aegean. But here, it’s business as usual, except for the heat.

We’re staying at a wonderful place – the Christos Apartments, Oia. It’s family run, two brothers, a father originator, the family. They are hospitable, help with our arrangements, and there is a beautiful terrace overlooking the sunset – the photo above is mine from last night from that terrace.

Oia is said to be the most beautiful place on the island. After touring a few spots I agree.

The catamaran cruises are wonderful. The archaeological tours are amazing and educational. There are talented, educated, kind people from all around Greece summering here for extra income – driving, sailing, waiting tables. They are horticulturalists, builders – coming from other professions to spend a few months here with the tourists on this beautiful island. They work long hours, though.

The way to see the island properly is to take a catamaran.

Aside from relaxing over the water and catching many rays, the views are mind blowing – and cannot be done the remotest justice with my camera – and one can truly get a sense of the place. The others on the tour were mostly Americans, the “transfer” – a taxi lift – somewhat chaotic with cliffside views – ended with a drop off on the pier and a welcoming crew ready to take us out. After enjoying views of the islands we stopped to swim and the chef made us a lovely spread of all sorts of delicious food. The crew was Anatalie, Cosmos, and two other unnamed smiling crewmates – one identified as “the chef!” and one that steered the catamaran. Anatalie navigated the shifting deck with true sea-legs, taking pictures on request and answering questions. Cosmos, an agriculturalist that grows olive trees in a place I can’t remember on the mainland, was friendly, talkative, down to earth, and tied us up at all stops.

The archaeological tour felt like more than I paid for. We expected to tour Akrotiri – a greek Pompeii that dates back about 2000 years earlier than Pompeii. We were treated to a tour of mount Elias first thing – a beautiful monastery atop a mountain.

Our tour guide Tanya of Kamari tours spoke to everyone in their native tongue – Greek, English, German, and French. At least. There may have been other languages. We saw Pyrgos, which was beautiful – full of architectural interest, toured a cave that was once the home of native santorinians, learned many things of interest, including about how donkeys stable in caves to stay cool, capers plants that grow everywhere, and wine vines that are not trellised but instead wrap in circles.

We learned about private churches and why there are stones in roofs (to give builders and workers a foothold).

And she walked us to a terrace overlooking red beach, which was very dramatic.

There were winds this week – they were heavenly. Not as many today, though. I’m told it’s the hottest day so far at 45 celsius. And of course the trend is… warming, warming. Our AC is out; we have a fan, now, and as I write we come to just after 6pm – two hours before our magical sunset here in Oia (pronounced EE-a) and the temps starting to ease, there is a breeze starting to appear.

Tomorrow we have a wine tour – we learned one of the oldest (perhaps the oldest?) export Santorini has. I’ll write more about volcanic beaches, ancient cities, and nights on the caldera in the next post. For now, I go to find some souvlaki and watch the sunset….

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April 4, 2023 · 4:58 pm

Equinox Unfolding

Miniature Daffodils emerging - March

A friend of mine used to say “spring always comes.” That sentence is loaded with meaning, of course, and the comfort that comes with that simple statement goes deep and far.

Happily Roger was proven right again this year and spring dawns in the northeast as usual — as usual…

snowbells

Just that phrase. Since 2020 nothing has felt “usual” – but spring has come, *as usual*, thank the gods. Snowdrops have come and gone, crocus and daffodils are up, tree buds are visible and I’m thinking about summer porch furniture. As usual.

Some other usual things … the mailboxes of our hometown after a winter of (not much) snow plowing:

Mailbox plowed to the ground. The rest of the post is still buried.

Year after year we marvel at the ingenuity of people’s solutions to this perennial problem. People are very creative!

broken duck-taped mailbox
Hellebore

Yes, the comfort of the usual, maybe not entirely predictable things. Welcome, spring.

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July 18, 2022 · 10:49 am

Versatile and Beautiful Lavender

Summer Lavender Grosso

Above, a hedge of lavender next to my driveway popped into glorious fragrant bloom in June. I don’t know who was more excited – me or the bumble bees.

I can never bring myself to cut the flowers while they are in full bloom – the sun on the flowers is too glorious. But when they’ve passed their prime they still cut beautifully and are wonderfully fragrant.

Cut lavender fills the kitchen with fragrance

When my son’s girlfriend saw my giant pile of cut lavender she immediately thought of lavender lemonade, and took a handful to make lavender syrup. It was delicious.

Easy to grow and easily available, lavender will grace your garden, attract pollinators, and is truly a sensory joy. Lavender is drought tolerant, does well in zones 6-10.

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May 28, 2022 · 4:29 pm

Weeds

A good-sized pile of weeds for this early in the year and the hoe that helped dig them out.

I don’t know anyone that likes weeding. It’s back-breaking, necessary work. Sure, there’s some satisfaction in a weed-free garden bed but it’s short-lived. The weeds are back almost immediately, it seems.

So today was weed the garden beds day. I didn’t get them all weeded – I only managed to weed two of them. It was overcast, which is good weeding weather, and it had to be done.

And it’s fine. Pulling weeds from around the lettuce and knowing I’d be eating it in a salad later created a sense of calm and purpose. I took a break around noon, cut enough lettuce to fill a big colander, pulled a couple of radish, and came in to enjoy a nourishing lunch. It’s the most basic luxury to have to pay attention to when it rains (or doesn’t) and to know that aside from the nutrients in the soil there’s just water and sunshine in your food. And no plastic waste.

young swiss chard and pepper plants in the near bed, cutting lettuce behind it, beets and asparagus in the rear.

Back to weeding… I always joke with my husband that grass only grows where I don’t want it to. It never seems happy to grow on the designated lawn area, it much prefers my garden and our driveway.

Other “weeds” – verbena, squash, and tomato that self seeded, were spared. It’s tough to pull plants I’ve actually bought/planted just because they are growing in an inopportune spot. I dug out some verbena and put them in a spot near the kitchen window where I can watch the monarch butterflies visit their vivid purple flowers this summer. And the squash and tomatoes… I have a suspicion the squash is actually pumpkins. Last year they took over the garden because I felt bad pulling them out. In the end they crowded out the butternut squash, which I won’t let happen twice.

wildflowers in the west field

And then there are the pretty weeds, like the wildflowers that grow in our fields. These pretty daisy-like flowers pictured above, buttercups, purple, red, and blue flowers… we mow around them.

I’ll leave you with a photo of our cat, who really enjoys watching all of the activity at the birdhouse you can see pictured. It is nestled in a giant beast of a climbing hydrangea that has taken over one wall of our garage and is adjacent to a raspberry patch that is trying to take over the west field. Smudge (the cat) may be aware that there is a nest with baby birds … and the constant coming and going is the parents feeding their little ones. Or maybe not.

I always wonder what our cats are thinking.

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May 22, 2022 · 8:46 pm

May in New England is Heaven

Lilacs nodding in the sun

Many would say that the months between and including December and April are too damn cold in New England. On most days I am among those people, saying to anyone who will listen that New England is no place to age.

But then May comes.

Along with the trees bursting to life in bright spring green, pink, white, red and yellow, the lilacs appear. For a couple of weeks the air is fragrant with them. Lilly of the valley perfume the air at night, a sweet, haunting, beautiful scent. And (where applicable) strawberry flowers open delicate white petals to the new sun.

Strawberry flowers

And the forget-me-nots, chives with their globes of purple flowers, bleeding hearts– all of this after the famous bulbs. It’s like having a baby – you forget the pain of childbirth when you hold a baby in your arms. A similar thing happens here in May. The discomfort of winter fades and softens, replaced by wonder, joy and pleasure. Also lettuce, snap peas, radishes and rhubarb. 🙂

forget-me-nots

As I write this I’m sitting on the porch listening to crickets. The last of the day’s light illuminates the sky in periwinkle-gray, the trees make dark silhouettes and the last intrepid birds are still singing — calling home family members that have stayed out too long, perhaps. A flash of pink lightening in the sky.

Pretty heavenly.

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March 7, 2022 · 8:50 pm

Snowdrops. Finally spring!

It was a kind of magic to wake this morning to the site of grass and the earth uncovered. When the sun set last night everything was still covered in snow.

But even more magical today were the snowdrops.

snowdrops emerging after the snow has melted in Massachusetts

Over breakfast I told Jon that I was going to go out to look for them today. He said – ‘Really? We had snow on the ground until last night. Do you think there will be any?

Well… yes! I did find one just emerging in the lawn this morning. And during our afternoon walk – voila! Jon actually spotted them first.

For me, these are the first true sign that spring is here.

I’ve recently begun to ask myself what one thing I can do to make myself happy today and making an effort to do that thing. This morning the answer was to take the time to go out and look for snow drops.

On the way back toward the house I passed the kitchen garden and noticed the first chive shoots are reaching up out of the ground … freshly clipped chive with scrambled eggs! And the hellebore are pushing up and unfolding. I can’t wait to see them.

It’s exciting to think I’ll be turning compost into my spring garden beds and planting lettuce and radish in a month or so…

chive along the kitchen pathway, 2021

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March 12, 2019 · 5:40 pm

Sacred Connection

Sitting in the grass, sitting bones against the earth, is a birthright few of us spend much time exercising. The energy that flows up into us from the earth is so different from the experience of sitting in a chair; taking the time to sit intentionally, allowing source energy to enliven your spine, support your legs, bottom, and root chakra (the energy center that resides at the base of the spine), is self-prescribed therapy. Resting directly on the Earth reminds us of our connection to everything, and allows us to root and be present to our body in a way that is intensely grounded, momentary, and personal.

The feeling of the soil, soft and malleable, accommodating,
invites us to sit for a while as indigenous humans do, with our bottoms pointing behind us to support our backs, vertebrae stacked, root chakra at the base, breathing in the smell of grass, flowers, or other flora nearby, and the soil, warmed by the sun. Or lie down and look up, clouds floating by in a panoply of shapes. The trees arcing up to touch the sky, birds criss-crossing above.

With the earth beneath and around you, you might feel that you come from this earth, are part of this earth, one with the wind, the birds, all growing, crawling things. Or you might just feel a little better, more grounded. I’d bet, though, that you won’t just do it once.

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February 15, 2019 · 10:43 pm

Roots and Branches

I sit in front of a west-facing window when I work from home, under the branches of a great old Ash tree.  It reaches over and past the window, protectively shading the house and reaching up high into the sky.  I imagine it’s cooler up there in the topmost branches, and that the tree knows I’m down here.

These trees are becoming rare in the states because of an invasive beetle called the emerald ash borer.  Cute little guys, they are a shiny turquoise and plum color with a kind of kaleidoscope finish like they were dipped in a jar of glaze. And they like to eat ash leaves.  Unfortunately for the Ash, the larvae of the borers eat the inside bark of the tree, making it hard for the trees to transport water up the trunk, which is how trees absorb water and nutrients.   The larvae spell disaster for the trees, and over time the Ash trees die of thirst.

We are fighting for ours; we hired a company to treat the trees in an effort to fight off the beetles.  It’s expensive but when I look at the tree that can’t be saved – the oldest, largest, most graceful of them, which was too far gone to be treated by the tree specialists when we bought the house –  my resolve hardens. 

These trees aren’t particularly huggable.  Some trees are, practically inviting you to wrap your arms around them and lay your face against them, but the Ash trees have a stand-offish air, seem aloof and distant and seem to want their space.  Still, they are my favorites, probably because they are struggling.

The biggest of them, with a trunk that is more than seven feet in circumference, has more than a third of its majestic branches defoliated.  It is hard to watch it decline; it exudes a kind of pride, even now, that is undeniable.  People come to the house and notice it – beginning to remark on its beauty, taking it in, looking more carefully – and then they stop speaking.  It’s like that.  A sudden realization you’ve said something offensive, or sad, without meaning to.

The trees around us have a kind of slow, deliberate presence and awareness, existing in a symbiotic relationship to us and around us, reaching up to meet the sky, joining the earth with the heavens. 

I would like to work from home more often. 

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Loving Gaia

On a starry, moonless night, there’s silence, except for some wind in the tree tops.  The bare limbs of the deciduous trees – usually imposing shadows lit by the brilliant cornflower-midnight blue night sky – are almost invisible.

This moon looks like other dark moons but today’s New York times featured an announcement that 2018 was the 4th warmest year on record – the 4 warmest being within the last 4 years.  I’m not a statistician but I’m pretty sure that is not normal.  The planet is warming up.  We could even say it has a fever.

As if to underscore the point, I saw a bird today that I’ve never seen before.  The feathers of it’s head had a pretty red sheen- a kind of sparrow or finch.  Not a cardinal.  And not a bird I’ve ever seen here. A newcomer to my feeder.  Perhaps she found her way here because of changing weather patterns?  Or perhaps I’ve just never noticed her before.  But that seems unlikely.

And while trees and bulbs know better than to blossom early,  I see kids walking around in summer clothes when Massachusetts temps reach 55 degrees Fahrenheit in February.  It’s a little surreal.

Okay, they are teenagers.  Not that surreal. But, still.

The dark moon favors sleeping, letting go, decluttering.  Making way for something new to grow.

Like a sense of deepening connection to the planet.   A personal relationship, even.

Every thing we create and the energy we consume comes from the planet and the elements.  And it returns to … the planet and the elements:  the water, the air, consumed by fire, or buried in the earth.

This dark moon seems to be suggesting that we cultivate more awareness and commitment to the planet.  That we let go of our need to consume every cool/adorable thing we see and maybe use less energy.  Our choices about these things are choices in our relationship to the one and only planet that sustains and nurtures us.

When I bring bags to the grocery and minimize packaging I imagine I’m blowing a kiss to the Earth.  And maybe not adding to the giant plastic pile floating in the middle of the ocean.  It gives me a little thrill.  Really.

If we break (up with) this planet I don’t think we are going to find a better one to live on.

And I am not sure she would give us a second chance.

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February 7, 2019 · 12:39 am