Seeds they are a-comin'!

Seeds!


Here they are!! Some have already arrived. Now I have to figure out what to start early indoors and what to put out in the cold frames. I'm thinking the two kales are going to be early pioneers this year.

Oh, before I forget, do NOT plant beans and beets next to each other. I did this last year and wondered why both crops were so puny - apparently they inhibit each other's growth! Who knew?

Seed you later...

(Oh, and if you want to do some good online ordering, I recommend www.seedsavers.org and www.burpee.com. Those are the two I used.)

A verse to share

During my assignment this morning, I photographed a woman in her home in Hingham, Massachusetts. As I composed the image, she sat in her chair and recited this poem. I must share it. It's by Oliver Herford.

I Heard a Bird Sing

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.

'We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,"
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.

Just lovely.

Crawling out of my hole

When a thing is born, what does it first do?

Write a novel? Wash the dishes?

Nah. It cries. And sleeps, and learns to crawl.

Are rules the same for the re-born? And is too grandiose to suggest that in a way, this is happening to me?

It's not about the new year - it's about the final days of a deal that I reluctantly made with myself last spring, when I thought my company was going down and me with it (yay, newspapers). I decided to launch myself into the industrious, ambitious, obsessed business world to see if I could "make it" outside of the only job I've ever known.

In doing so, I made this deal and traded in my entire life. No more pottery, no more twice-daily yoga, or long hikes, or friends, or painting, or GARDENING, or blogging (which you are surely to not notice, as no one reads this anymore, therefore, there's no you there).

However, I did not lose my job. I just gained another full-time job, and for the past 9 months, been doing them both - and nothing else.

Boring.

That, though, is ending. I can't say for sure how, but I desperately want my life back, the connection to the earth and things that grow and have nothing to do with this man-made world of concrete and invisible economies.

This was a pre-meditated rebirth - meaning that I've been planning for it for months. Stage One was full of crying and being totally unimpressive, like most infants.

Stage Two came this weekend. I dusted off my seed catalogues, recruited the ever-supportive Erik and set about to make Plans for this year's Garden. Or, ahem, gardenS. We're expanding the operation.

On tap this growing season:

kale (dwarf blue curled scotch and lacinato)

potatoes (French Fingerling and All Blue)

tomatoes (Sidduth's strain Brandywine and Black from Tula)

Chinese cabbage (Joi Choi)

beets (early blood turnip)

carrots (Paris market and Danvers)

zucchini (green tiger)

summer squash (summer crookneck)

winter squash (table queen acorn-type)

dill

cucumbers (sweet success hybrid)

chard (Fordhook giant)

corn (Reed's yellow dent)

sunflowers

garlic (German extra hardy)

eggplant (listada de Gandia)

purple pole beans

ground cherries (Aunt Molly's)

lima beans (Big Mama)

spinach (America)

bell peppers (purple beauty)

hot peppers (mustard habanero)

asparagus (Jersey giant)

arugula

basil (sweet Genovese)

cilantro

strawberries (3 types)

lettuce (8 types)

And Erik has finally agreed that this is the year of the Chicken! So eggs are hot compost are coming to a blogger near you.

It is January 2 and about 12 degrees outside. Most would agree that it's winter. But for me, it's springtime. And parts of me that have been crusted over by ice and buried in a snowbank are beginning to thaw. Beginning to believe that my life can be drawn back into it's old, more earthy orbit, and that soon my eyes will be filled with visions of green and growth and tiny, fluffy, helpless chicks wobbling about, squawking, just barely born.

And I will totally understand.

The Hippest way to spend the day

Rose hips, that is.

This year, our Rosa Rugosa bushes kicked out an incredible number of these gorgeous globs of reddish-orange happiness.

Apparently, all parts of all roses are edible (except, of course, those that have been chemically treated with pesticides and such), including these funny little gifts of fruit.

What's this have to do with the way to spend a day? Well, today is my first day of summer. It's the first day that I'm off of work, the sun is blazing, the garden is booming and I have the entire day to do whatever I please.

So while I sipped on my second cup of morning coffee, I made a do-list of sorts:

And at the top, as you can see, is "make rose hip jam" and tell y'all about it. So I set out to pick the lot of them and get started.

A thorn in my plans?

Every rose has it's thorn?

A thorn by any other name still makes you bleed?

Well, lookout, anyway, when you pick these pretty suckers. I got a little carried away once or twice when I saw a particularly pretty berry and now I have perforated fingers.

I picked a bunch:

They're so pretty!

Next step: process. Rose hips are funny little beings. They have these giant sepals that create a stiff crown at one end, and the other end is where the spikes begin. Both of these have to be removed before you can proceed.

Here are the rose hips floating in rinse water after I sliced off the crowns. 

 Next step: seeds. Not just a few seeds, either. Copious amounts of furry, nasty, inedible and irritating seeds. 

Many sources direct you to cut each rose hip open and manually scrape them all out. But that would literally take you all day for 8 cups of fruit.

For example, these seeds all came out of one fruit:

So I have better way.  Stick the suckers in a blender with a bunch of water (you'll have to do this in batches), blend on low for about 10 seconds or so to chop up the fruits (without chopping the seeds too much) and go check your e-mail.

I mean, do something for a minute or so while the mixture separates out because, viola, the seeds float!

At this stage, you can spoon them off the top. A nice tip is when you're struggling to get the last few seeds, fill the blender to the top with water and scrape them off the surface with your fingers.

I filled this bowl with seeds from all the rose hips:

You can bet that those did not go in my compost pile.

After all that blending and seperating and skimming, you're left with this:

Which you then pour into a pot with the water you used to blend and boil it up for a long time.

Ah! Added bonus. I was hot and inspired, or just perspired, and desired some sweet iced tea. Instead of reaching for the mint tea bags, I took some water from my mixture here, strained off the pulp, sweetened it and poured it over ice. 

So, so good.
Guaranteed to satisfy your thirst and vitamin C requirement for a month.

At some point in all the boiling (after about an hour, I'd say), I added a bunch of sugar and some lemon juice. While that was going, I sterilized my jars

After it got to the jamming stage (a little after this picture was taken) I scooped it into the jars, screwed the lids on tight and processed them in a hot water bath for about 15 minutes.

I didn't add any pectin or gelatin so we'll find out how well it gels, but it sure is pretty!

This process takes a while, so I took advantage of the downtime and baked a loaf of bread to enjoy when the jam cools down. The recipe for this no-knead bread is in my archives.

But I caution you against trying it unless you don't mind gaining 10 pounds in a month. :)

I'll report back when we crack open the first jar!

My garlic is so Money!

Remember these?

The other day, curiosity overcame my patience. I had to meet my underground friends that have lived in the front garden since, well, November!

So I dug and dug,

And pulled a little and . . .

It smelled so wonderful!

Hooray!

I dug up the rest (all 11) and now they're drying/curing in the kitchen. 

As a triumphant aside, I went to the Davis Square Farmers Market yesterday and had an experience that thrilled me to my toes. Usually, I walk the aisles of the market and feel a wee bit inadequate because my city-girl produce doesn't often match the pros' goods. Well, that has all changed with this garlic harvest! We blew them away. It would have taken 3 of their bulbs to match even one of ours! Finally, something came out of our ground that I can be really proud of. 

I mention this because on the same day I dug the garlic, I also pulled the a carrot and the beets.

Yah, don't get too excited. They're pretty tiny.

So I sliced them up, sauteed them in some EVOO tossed in the beet greens and served it over proscuitto brown rice and wild salmon garnished with fresh green snap peas.

And look who else came for dinner?

It's not the size that counts . . . (well, maybe it is)

We're talking carrots here, people. (But at least they're dirty carrots.)

Last year, as you can see by looking back at some of my old posts, my adventures in growing carrots proved me to be a miserable failure. None - NOT ONE - of my many dozens of carrots of the 4 different crops of carrots topped an inch in length. And the ones that managed to take carrot-ish form were eaten through by ants. 

Pitiful, right?

So this year,  I tried a new approach: plant carrots that are supposed to be short and stubby so I can claim victory no matter what. Meet the Danvers Carrot.

The other morning, I started the day in my favorite way - coffee, husband, garden tour with the sunrise.

(and no makeup)

We wandered over to the front gardens to see what we could see.

(That's Erik, seeing all that he can see.)

And Hark! I spotted something!

A mature carrot?!

So I tugged and tugged and came to an instant conclusion:

 - that I didn't have to tug very hard. Not a good sign.

But it was bigger than an inch and not an ant in sight. So that made me declare a 73% victory.

And then I ate it. It tasted like a carrot. The rest are still in the ground. I'm aiming for a 100% victory in one week. Set your watches!

The Garlic Scape Caper

I walked out to the garden the other day, and saw this:
That, I found after a bit of Googling, is a garlic scape. And not only can you eat it, you should eat it. Leaving it on the plant will eventually sap strength from the bulb - not good.

Which begged the question: how big were the bulbs under there?
I am not a patient person.

Just ask my husband. Ask anybody.
Ask, well, ask this garlic plant.It wasn't very big as you can see. I replanted it and apologized with lots of water and gentle patting. (It's still not dead several days later...)

Instead, I just harvested the scapes and prepared to make some uber-yummy pasta primavera.
Chopped 'em up:They taste -- now get this! -- garlicky! And a little salty. Very nice flavor.

Threw them in a saucepan with some other stuff:Added mushrooms, sundried tomatoes . . .. . . some garden-grown oregano:. . . some summer squash, red peppers . . .
. . . garden-grown arugula, some white wine, yummy cheese . . .. . . saved some garden-grown basil to sprinkle on top:
And then we ate it before I remembered to take a picture of the finished dish. Doh! Should only have my wine after the photographs are done. Trust me, though; it was a delish dish. Try it out with whatever you have on hand.

Here are some other pretty pictures from the garden last weekend:

Happy chard:
Happy Amish Sugar Snap Peas in spring rain:


And a wee bean trying to make it out of the dirt.
Cilantro that is moving on to the next phase of life:
Spinach that was hiding so I wouldn't eat it (had it for dinner last night).
And summer squash getting ready to start a riot.
That's the update!