Wild Plum Cottage

Moving Day

2011-07-05T08:19:00.000-07:00

I've moved! You can now find me at One Foot in the Garden.

Crazy, Stupid Weather

2011-06-02T07:04:00.000-07:00

Here we are in June and it's supposed to be sunny, at least in the afternoon. We get morning fog here during summer, but then it clears and we have gorgeous weather. Sweater in the morning, tank top in the afternoon. It's the way it is here. Really. Usually.

Yesterday I wore a wool coat to work. This morning I turned the heater on to take the chill off the house. It's supposed to rain into next week. I'm ready for summer and the weather isn't cooperating!

Jumping Back In (with two feet)

2011-05-31T20:30:00.000-07:00

A year and a half ago I stepped back from blogging under my real name. I’d had a bit of a run-in with a mean-spirited commenter and it felt safer to use a different name for a while. Now I’m ready to re-claim my blog and worry less about what someone with too much time on their hands might say or think. So, here I am - my name is Deirdre and this is my blog. At least for a while.

A couple posts ago I wrote there are changes coming this way, but it might take a while to get there. There’s a new blog in the works, one that’s truer to my ideals and goals. It’s been a journey, this blogging, and each time I think I’ve found the right format for my voice I grow and stretch and discover new tools. Someone (I don’t remember who) described blogging as “a living book” – I like that; it gives a bit of weight to what bloggers hope to achieve when we sit down to put our thoughts and images out into the world. A blog adjusts and shapes itself alongside life if we let it. It can draw a community together; people who haven’t met, who may never meet, find common ground and camaraderie. We share ideas and solutions, laughter and tears, recipes, tips, pictures. And friendship, that’s the best of all.

Until the new blog is ready to unveil I’ll keep posting here. I'm still making notes and editing photographs for the new place. It's going to be pretty.

Progress

2011-05-29T12:27:00.000-07:00

I must be getting better at this gardening thing; today I picked up a snail with my bare fingers.

Changes...

2011-05-17T19:21:00.000-07:00

There are changes afoot here at Wild Plum Cottage. I'm still tinkering, so it might be a while yet, but will (hopefully) be worth the wait.

A New Friend

2011-04-10T13:49:00.000-07:00

Meet Jeremy. Okay, it's not his real name. I don't know what his real name is; he's not ours, so it doesn't really matter.

He's pleased to meet you.

Starry Night

2011-02-28T20:38:00.000-08:00

Tonight, under a clear, star-scattered sky, I burned a bad time in my life. It’s been a long while since I held a fire ritual, the letting go of what no longer serves me well. Something about flames and purpose gives me a sense of a fresh start. And that’s where I am right now – cherishing the moment, recognizing the hard work that’s led me to this sweet time.

For the past couple weeks I’ve been clearing old files, digging through storage bins, drawers, closets, and cupboards. I’m astounded at what I’ve found. Things I didn’t remember owning. Or writing. Things I’ve kept for no rhyme or reason.

In the bottom of a drawer I found my old journals. When my first marriage ended, and for several years after, I poured my guts onto paper, frantically trying to figure things out and fix myself. While reading through a few pages this evening I wanted to reach back in time and smack that girl I was then, the one who so willingly took all the blame and cried how all her dreams had been destroyed. Maybe slightly amused pity is a better response. Because life has turned out almost exactly the way I wanted it to, despite my fears I’d never be happy again.

I watched the smoke from those journals curl away from me, like a living thing. A satellite eased across the sky; hundreds, maybe thousands, of frogs croaked melodiously while I sipped blackberry brandy and snuggled deeper into my coat and scarf. And I let it all go.

A Bit of Summer on a Cold Winter Day

2011-02-21T10:22:00.000-08:00

Last summer I was a blackberry fiend, picking more than 40 pounds of wild blackberries. From most of those berries I made far more jars of jam than I’ll eat, which makes them ideal for gifting, and a few jars of blackberry sauce that I could fall into and happily drown. That left one large bag of berries still in the freezer, calling out to be made into something easy and summery in the middle of this cold winter.

Because I’m on a big organizing spree, I don’t want to can anything right now. The prospect of hauling out canning equipment and then waiting for jars cool on the counter just doesn’t appeal to me right now. Clear counters are so pretty; I want to enjoy them a while longer and still have the satisfaction of having made something delicious to enjoy later. Last year I made a small batch of blackberry brandy that has aged perfectly. It’s a good thing to do with fruit when you’re already up to your eyeballs in jam and can’t face another jar.

Here’s the basic recipe. (I’ve played with it a bit in the past, using more berries, granulated sugar, and letting it sit for about a month longer.)

1 lb. blackberries

8 oz. superfine sugar

1 liter brandy

Combine all three in a gallon jar (or divide it between smaller jars) and stir. Stir it again once a week or so for the next two months. Strain, bottle, drink.

This batch of blackberry brandy won’t be ready until we’re well into spring, when we’ll lift our glasses of summer to toast the passing of winter.

Saturday Morning Memories

2011-01-22T13:12:00.000-08:00

This morning, still half-asleep, I rolled over and asked my husband what time it was. It was 8:20 a.m. and I should have been awake and out of bed at least half an hour earlier. I didn’t jump up right away, but lay there thinking for a few minutes, letting my mind wander wherever it needed to go.

In the year and a few months since my father died some of his more endearing quirks have come back to me. You know those things parents do that embarrass or frustrate us when we’re kids and later seem kind of sweet? Those things. My father wasn’t an easy man to be raised by, so there aren’t many moments that I can describe as sweet or warm. But, thankfully, some memories settle on me gently these days. My father never lost his “old country ways”. His place in the world was strictly defined by his speech patterns and attitudes and he held fast to that to the end.

This morning I remembered the way he’d give the time; it was half past, five of, or a quarter past, with no reference to the hour. Half past what? 3:00? 5:00? It was yet another fine point of contention between generations and cultures, in the power struggle between parent and teen.

Today I’m a little sad, not because I miss him – we never had enough relationship to miss now – but because we never had enough relationship for me to miss him now. He was, in many ways, a good man who did his best. That’s what I think about now. I remember that he sang at the top of his lungs, horrifying us kids because the neighbors could hear. An overheard turn of phrase or line of dialog in a movie reminds me of my father in his better moments. And some of his not so great moments.

It’s the nature of loss and grief that memories sneak up on us in quiet times. In the ten minutes it took me to completely wake up and start my day I missed my father.

The clock on the wall reads a quarter past.

A Worm Glow in Winter

2011-01-18T17:21:00.000-08:00

A while back I wrote about how much I’d like to have worm beds for composting and that I have a love/hate relationship with worms. I like the idea…not so much the slippery, wriggling reality. You might remember that we have a big, round composting ball that breaks down our kitchen scraps pretty quickly; I love that thing.

At the very end of last year, the week between Christmas and New Year, I got a horrible cold. It was the mother of all head colds and I was truly miserable. I came out of it glad to be part of the world again and thankful to have a husband who cooks, makes pharmacy runs, and buys trash magazines without complaint. (Because, really, you’ve got to have mindless reading when you’re sick, and People magazine fits the bill perfectly.) I learned I’m not a terribly cheery person when I don’t feel well – there may have been some whining going on and I looked like hell. I’m still newly-wed enough to be slightly appalled to have my husband see me like that, and ~~old~~ mature enough to know that “for better or worse” includes colds.

The few times I was out of bed and downstairs in the kitchen I looked out the sliding glass door at my frost-covered composter and wondered if any of the worms who’d made it home during the warmer months were surviving the cold weather. I was sure they’d all frozen to death just as I was getting more comfortable with their sliminess.

Last week I finally made it out feed the bin and check on their welfare, peering in, for a long time, with a flashlight one night after work. (I’m sure the neighbors think I’m a crackpot; clothesline, compost bins, prayer flags over the garden beds – our suburban, golf course hugging neighborhood just doesn’t see much of that.) Not only were the worms alive and well, but the bin was warm. I can’t tell you how relieved and excited I was. Worms and heat. It doesn’t take much to make me happy.

A New Year's Phrase

2011-01-01T12:01:00.000-08:00

It’s a new year, bright and shiny and full of possibilities, but there will be no resolutions made; they only bring out the defiant child in me and I end up breaking them all, not caring that it costs me the achievement of a goal. Instead, I’ve decided to adopt a phrase, a nudging reminder that there are changes afoot and now is the time to make them.

A few of the changes are standard – exercise more, make better food choices. Most of us know those goals very well. Some are more personal, rising from questions that barreled at me around my birthday last year. There’s no doubt I’ve entered the phase of life called “mid”. It’s not the half-way point (or, most likely, beyond), but the point at which the balance can shift. I can be lazy and it’s all downhill from here, or, better, I can take a good, long look at what I need to be to stay happy, healthy, and contributing to this world. Fixing a goal in mind does no good if I do nothing to support getting there.

My reminder, the whisper in my ear, will be a question: If not now … when? There has to be a starting point for everything and it is now. Otherwise it’s always tomorrow, next week, after the holiday, when I have more money, when the cows come home and pigs fly. When I’m tempted to slide it will be the question that calls me to make a choice – if not now, when? That doesn’t mean I’ll always follow through. Good lord, where would the fun be in that? But a conscious choice is always better than being an old horse following the same track home every night. There are lots more trails to be explored and this year, now, I intend to gallop a little.

Tea and Chocolate and a Cold

2010-12-29T16:53:00.000-08:00

Today I’m bundled up in warm jammies and woolen socks. It’s cold and windy outside, the remnants of a storm that swept through during the night, flooding roads and knocking down trees. I would have gone to work this morning and been on the road in that mess, instead I’ve got the cold that’s been going around these parts.

My husband is home sick too and, unlike me, is able to sleep his way through a bug. I’m not sick enough to stay in bed, but well enough to be bored. If I could settle down with a book or movie it would be so much better; aimlessly wandering around the house isn’t particularly helpful in the healing process.

I’ve played about as much solitaire as I can stand, checked my Facebook page numerous times, folded a few loads of laundry, swilled down a gallon or so of hot tea, and made a jar of salt scrub for myself; all mindless pursuits.

Food doesn’t even sound good right now. Except for the piece of chocolate ganache goodness I found in the freezer. I’d stashed a slice of cranberry chocolate tart in the freezer last month as a test to see how it would hold up to freezing. Based on today’s taste test it did just fine. Too bad it was such a small bite.

In the time it’s taken me to write this I’ve emptied another mug of tea. Time to put the kettle back on and make another pot.

The Worms Crawl In ...

2010-10-24T17:44:00.000-07:00

This post is about worms. You can skip it if you’d rather. My feelings won’t be hurt. Worms are gross. They make my skin crawl. Yeah, I know they’re useful, vital even, to soil and decomposition. Worm castings - poop - cost a fortune at better nurseries. At the local “beyond organic” farm where I buy the best tomatoes in the world (yeah, really) they sell small bags of worm castings for ten bucks a pop. I’m quite sure its worth that price, but … really? Worm poop?!?

So, here’s my dilemma. I compost in two bins in the backyard. One is kind of basic, a plastic box with a hinged lid. The other is pretty swizzle. It’s a giant plastic ball with twist on/off lids at both poles. We call it “The Death Star”. Looks just like the big evil thing in Star Wars that the good guys blew up. We roll it around the yard to mix the contents, helping yesterday’s veggie scraps break down a bit faster. I love composting. It makes all kinds of sense to me: from the earth and back to the earth.

This is where the part about worms comes in. Composting with worms is faster. Those little critters are dirt factories. Garbage in one end, soil out the other. It’s a fascinatingly basic process. Except for one little bitty thing. (See first paragraph.) They gross me out. I want a worm bed. I want to feed worms as many of my kitchen scraps as they’ll eat. I just don’t want to see or (dear god) touch them.

Last week, while emptying the kitchen bucket (which is really an old, plain cookie jar) into the composter, I found a lone earthworm crawling along the rim of the bin, just where the lid needed to be fitted back on. I gathered up my gut and, with the edge of a paper towel, encouraged him to wiggle back into the bin. I even spoke to him in a kind and gentle voice, which brought my husband out of the garage to remind me that worms have no comprehension of human language. No matter. I hadn’t retched; it was a milestone moment.

Two nights ago, while doing a last sweep through the kitchen and family room before heading off to bed, I spotted a twig on the floor. We’d both been in the backyard earlier in the day and sometimes track things into the house. I bent over to pick it up … and it moved. There was an earthworm in my house. Inside. My. House.

I’m sure I’d have dealt with the situation if I’d been home alone. At my last house I’d had to remove potato bugs from the living room a couple times, and I’m telling you, you could die from ugly with a potato bug. But, thankfully, my husband was home and he’s not bothered by worms. He carried it outside to the front yard where it is, I’m sure, contentedly doing whatever it is that makes worms happy.

Which brings me back to the fact that though I really like the idea of worm beds, I’m just not quite there yet. Maybe someday, but my skin with have to stop crawling first. It’s going to take a while longer.

Sun Day

2010-10-04T17:07:00.000-07:00

Early yesterday morning, at about 6:30, we left the house for a day out, away from the projects and chores that have occupied our weekends for most of the summer. We used to do this often on Sunday mornings, but between painting the inside of our house and landscaping the front yard we haven’t had the time or energy to drag ourselves out the door before dawn. We like to take photographs in the morning, and the only way to make that happen is to leave the house at omigod o’clock in order to be somewhere beautiful at sunrise or shortly thereafter.

Our destination yesterday was a few hours north of where we live, a valley with a small town and not much else. We drove up a mostly empty freeway for two hours, a little more than half-way, and stopped for coffee and scones in a small town known mostly for its secluded gardens and surreptitious harvest. It’s apparently a fairly trusting town even with all that going on. The man in line behind us at the coffee counter left his car running in the parking lot well out of his sight. Or maybe he was too stoned to realize he should have turned it off and taken the keys with him. Either way, it was still there when he got back.

We didn’t stop again until we were well out the road that twists and bends alongside the Eel River. The air is sweet and clean in this part of California. And so quiet that the sound of wind brushing through tree tops is a wonder.

There weren’t many cars on the road, and the only people we saw in the valley looked to be hunters gathered around a truck, maybe planning their hunt. We drove through the quick blink of town, turned around at the far end and headed back the way we’d come. It was never our plan to stop. We just wanted to see what was there, check out the scenery to see if it was really as pretty as we’d heard. We do that sometimes, drive out a road we’ve never been on just because we’re curious.

Maybe we’re lucky, or possibly just easily amused, but every time we point the car in a direction and pay attention, we find magic. Not the kind that knocks our socks off, not usually anyway, but the kind of magic that reminds us that the world, the earth, is an amazing place and we’re lucky to be here.

In the course of our travels yesterday we saw several squirrels; there’s nothing out of the ordinary about a squirrel, but they make me smile. Good enough. A small flock of wild turkeys half flew across the road in front of our car. They’re so much prettier - a bit majestic really – than domestic turkeys. Several deer picked their way along a rocky river beach. We watched them until they rounded a bend. And we were lucky, and alert enough, to spot a family of river otters playing and sunning themselves on warm rocks. We stood at the side of the road taking turns with the binoculars, counting (six of them), and watching until they slipped back into the cool water and swam away.

On our way home we stopped at a winery to eat the grocery store sandwiches we’d bought earlier in the day. It was a pretty place to have lunch and then make a purchase to add to the tiny little ~~cellar~~ closet we keep. We were home again by mid-afternoon, relaxed and more ready to tackle the next phase of home improvement projects in their due time. And we’ll remember, for a long time, that it’s a good thing to play and warm ourselves in the sun.

Rocks, Roots and Clods

2010-09-05T15:08:00.000-07:00

Gardening isn’t for sissies. We’re learning that with our backs. We've pulled lots of rocks, a network of old roots, and solid dirt clods out of the yard. The rocks and dirt go into the backyard to raise low spots. Then we dig, dig some more, mix good, new soil with old in the wheelbarrow, shovel it back in around the new plant, pat it down, repeat. So far we’ve repeated this process 26 times, not counting the two flats of ground cover that we cut into more than twenty little squares each and followed the same steps.

The dirt (I hesitate to call it soil) in our yard is adobe, a dense clay that just dares a plant to grow. It has to be amended in order to break it down into something that will drain properly and have the right mix of nutrients for our new plants. Of course, everything we’ve chosen for the front yard requires good drainage.

If When the plants take root they’ll be low maintenance, colorful, and fragrant. Our front yard will be the best smelling in the neighborhood. We’ve put in a variety of salvias, rosemary, a couple kinds of lavender, lambs ear, and lemon verbena. They’ll grow tall and lush and we’ll be glad to have worked so hard to help them along.

Hot Damn & Hallelujah (emphasis on the hot)

2010-08-24T21:26:00.000-07:00

We’re having the first heat wave of the summer. The temperature topped out at 107 today and it’s still in the low 80’s at nine o’clock in the evening. That’s almost unheard of around here. It’s normal to have chilly summer mornings (sometimes foggy), hot afternoons, and then down into the 50’s at night. This year we’ve had light rain and overcast skies that didn’t clear all day. Until yesterday.

I’m sitting on the front porch as I write this, a tall cold drink sweating onto the table. My neighbors all around have their windows open to catch the slightest breeze. Laughing kids, barking dogs, a siren, crickets chirping, snippets of conversation – they’re all the sounds of summer in the neighborhood. Even the ground is sighing away the day’s heat. I love the smell of fading day, that freshly watered lawn fragrance and hot asphalt mixed with barbeque, trees, and the creek across the road. The full moon has just made its way around the corner of the house, completing the night’s beauty.

I’m sure I’ll suffer for it tomorrow when the air conditioner at work is straining to keep up. But for now, right this minute, I’m glad summer has come to call.

I Dare You Not to Cry

2010-08-13T07:46:00.000-07:00

Brain Fog

2010-08-06T20:30:00.000-07:00

Why is it that every time I decide to make dilly beans I forget to buy ... umm ... dill.

One Of These Things Doesn't Belong

2010-08-01T12:50:00.000-07:00

Last night we learned an important gardening lesson: do not cook and eat a vegetable you can’t positively identify. An adventurous attitude is a good thing to have – it can lead to all kinds of wonderful experiences. At least, that's what we hope.

So, when several plants started coming up in the garden beds we decided to let them grow and be surprised at harvest time. It made sense. We knew what we’d planted in the past, and had a pretty good idea of what we’d put into the compost bin. The first surprise was that so many seeds survived the composting process and began growing when we spread compost into the beds. We stood over those little seedlings many mornings guessing what they might be. Cantaloupe, zucchini, pumpkin?

Yesterday we delightedly harvested potatoes, green beans - which we'd actually planted, and some strange squash we hadn't. We were pretty stoked to get so much of our meal from our very own garden. Weren’t we clever and headed for great gardening success.

You know where this is going, don’t you?

The wine was poured, our meal plated, we toasted our bounty, and took a first bite. I don’t know which of us made it back to the kitchen to spit it out first. Holy god, what did we just eat? I’ve never tasted anything so bitter. Swigs of wine, chunks of bread, and a dip into the sugar bowl were required to get rid of the taste.

Turns out I’d forgotten about the gourds I’d tossed into the composter a couple years ago. Gourds are vile tasting. You should never cook and try to eat a gourd. Lesson learned. We ripped out the plants this morning.

I Spoke Too Soon

2010-07-27T19:36:00.000-07:00

It seems this was leaking for a long time. Explains why our water bill is so high. It's fixed now. (I hope.) Did I mention that we're on vacation? Working in the yard, hauling ass let me tell you, and calling it vacation. It's a good thing we love working around the house.

A Work in Progress

2010-07-25T16:39:00.000-07:00

This is how our front yard looked at the end of the first day of work. The lawn was torn out and later hauled away.

A couple days later the messy trees were gone, the walls built, and extra soil was ready to spread.

And then this happened.

And this.

This morning my husband repaired the last (we hope) of the broken pipes and found all the buried (!!!) sprinkler heads. Then we planted chamomile, creeping thyme, lavender, and Russian sage. There's lots still to do; more plants to plant, tons of bark to spread, trellises to build. It's good.

In & Out of the Garden

2010-07-16T10:50:00.000-07:00

Once again, I have no pictures to post today. What I do have is fourteen jars of plum jam cooling on the kitchen counter. It’s the last of our plums supplemented with store bought and gift plums from a friend. It’s a little tarter (is that a word?) than usual, but I like it. A lot. It’s going to be delicious with peanut butter.

In landscaping news, our front yard is ready for planting. Now we get to do the fun part – picking out plants, laying out the garden, digging in the dirt. I’m thinking lavender, salvia, butterfly bush, yarrow. That should get us started.

There will be pictures this weekend. Stay tuned.

Bzzzzz...

2010-07-13T21:53:00.000-07:00

It’s been a hive of activity here at Wild Plum Cottage during the past few weeks. We’ve been painting, watching the garden grow (although the only thing I’ve harvested so far is six green beans – yeah, six), and working on the front yard.

We realized, after three back-breaking weekends, that there’s no way we can re-landscape the front yard by ourselves. So we hired someone to do it for us. What luxury. We’ve had a crew of three guys tearing out lawns, shrubbery, and small trees for two days. Tomorrow they’ll start working on terracing and laying bricks. After that they’ll lay out the drip system. Then we’ll pay them and do the planting ourselves. It’s going to be beautiful. There’ll be before, during, and after pictures when we’re done.

In the midst of all this busy-ness I’ve been canning like a fiend. The chocolate cherry wine sauce turned out amazingly delicious, but I’m not sure it’s safe to can. I put three jars through the water bath, admired them for about a day, got the willies, popped the seals, and refrigerated them. Botulism is a bad thing, and I don’t know enough about acidity to trust my own made-up canning recipe. But if I find out it’s a canning-safe recipe I’ll be slamming it into jars as fast as possible, because, honestly, it’s the best damn thing I’ve ever cooked. (And you, Miss Amber, will be first on my list of recipients.)

Mmmmm......

2010-07-06T20:59:00.000-07:00

Chocolate Cherry Wine Sauce. More later.

Ahhh, A Holiday

2010-07-04T16:33:00.000-07:00

This is what we’ve been busy with for the past few weeks:

Painting the downstairs ceilings – a huge project.
Choosing a color for the kitchen walls.
Deep cleaning one room at a time.
Picking almost 12 pounds of cherry-sized plums.

Making and canning the following crazy delicious things:

Cherries in Wine
Brandied Cherries
Plum Jam (51 jars!)
Blackberry Jam
Trying to figure out if a reduction of zinfandel, cherries, cocoa powder and a few other ingredients is safe for canning, because, omigod, if it is, everyone on my Christmas list is going to looove me.

Harvesting basil, making and freezing pesto.
Harvesting lavender and hanging it to dry.
Oh, and working full time.

Today we’re hanging out at home, resting, catching our breath, letting life slow down for a while. And remembering why I love living in this amazing, frustrating, busy, beautiful country of ours.

Happy Fourth!

A Summer Morning

2010-06-17T12:01:00.000-07:00

My best friend asked me to teach her how to make jam. We started with an easy recipe, strawberry jam - only a few ingredients and minimal fruit preparation required. On Tuesday morning I packed up all my canning equipment and drove to her house in the country where she’s surrounded by apple trees and grapevines and fresh air and we talked and canned and talked some more. It was wonderful.

The beginning.

The end.

The bonus - spending time with this sweet girl.

Laundry Day

2010-06-14T21:44:00.000-07:00

Today I may have stepped firmly into the land of crazy. I did laundry all day and loved every minute of it. You’re shaking your head right now, thinking, “It’s a pity she’s lost her mind. She seemed so … normal.”

Laundry is something I only do so I’ll have clothes to wear to work during the week. Because, honestly, is there anything more boring than sorting and folding clothes? No. Okay, maybe cleaning the bathrooms. But, as of today, hot damn & hallelujah, I have a clothesline.

My husband, bless his city boy heart, put up the clothesline this morning that’s been in the garage for two years. (I was very patient while he came to terms with the whole clothing flapping in the breeze thing.) Our agreement is that there will be no underwear hanging out for the neighbors to see. Fair enough. But there will be towels and sheets that smell like summer, and dresses that float on my skin, tee-shirts that go on crisp and soften with body heat.

Who needs yoga when I can stand in the sun and stretch from my toes to fingertips and bend deep to get another towel from the basket? Geese fly overhead twice a day, calling to the earth as they go. Ladybugs land on towels and have to be carried off to a shady tree so they won’t get folded into the linen cupboard.

Hanging laundry on the line is a simple pleasure. The small amount of extra time doesn’t seem like work, but rather like an escape to a place where I breathe a little more deeply and smile a whole lot more. Crazy? Who cares?

Ahhh...

2010-06-11T07:34:00.000-07:00

The summer heat is finally here. We’ve had a few days when I’ve thrown open the windows and set out fans to move cooler air through the house. Maybe the rain is over for the season. We hope. It’s been a long, wet winter and I’m ready for consistently blue skies.

Last weekend we decided it was time to install a ceiling fan in my office. My husband is handy and had that thing wired and working in short order. Now I don’t have to use papers from my desk to fan away a hot flash. Hot weather + hot flashes = cranky & miserable. Ceiling fan = ahhh.

Thank You

2010-05-31T09:58:00.000-07:00

Photo by my brother, M.

In The Garden

2010-05-21T15:11:00.000-07:00

The duck that came to visit for a week.

A Sunday morning worth of yard cleaning.

Soaking Up The Sun

2010-04-20T12:06:00.000-07:00

The weather was astoundingly beautiful this past weekend, sunny in a way that warms you all the way through. I can’t complain about the weather, because, really, it’s California after all. Not that we don’t have our share of rain. And then it rains some more. And then the news people start talking about flooding and landslides. Our winters can be pretty soggy. But it’s Spring now and Sunday was perfect. It was worth waiting for all Winter.

We were at the garden supply store before they even opened and sat for a while in the parking lot with our mugs of tea, planning our garden. We bought soil to amend the raised beds and enough vegetables and herbs to get a good start. I don’t know about you, but it’s pretty easy to over-buy, and then you’ve got 27 tomato plants and enough parsley to supply half the town. We restrained ourselves and bought just two Roma tomatoes, but still more parsley than we’ll ever need, along with a couple tomatillo plants, green beans, and basil. You can probably see where this is going – I’ll be freezing and canning what we don’t eat straight out of the garden. (I might get another tomato plant or two, just because.)

By noon we’d weeded all the raised beds, turned and moved the compost bin, replanted a struggling rosemary, and my husband made good use of the tiller he bought a couple months ago. The veggies are sitting in the kitchen in front of a big window – the weather turned yesterday with rain and a chance of hail. We’ll plant them later in the week.

Tending a garden calms me; it reminds me to stay in the moment while looking hopefully to the future. Besides, there’s nothing that tastes as good as a homegrown tomato.

What have you planted this year? How does your garden grow?

Back To Real Life (and a recipe)

2010-03-29T11:13:00.000-07:00

This morning is the end of our vacation. By noon we’ll be back to our work-week schedule. As much as I love living unstructured days, I also need routine; it’s the way I’m wired. I function best with a starting point and a plan, but it’s really nice to step back from that once in a while and see what happens.

It was a great vacation. We spent a couple days in Monterey, walking through Cannery Row, visiting the Aquarium (so worth the cost of admission), having early morning coffee in Carmel, and wandering through the Carmel Mission. The weather was a little chilly in the mornings and evenings, but mid-day was glorious. Not bad for March.

We brought home swordfish from the Monterey wharf and artichokes from Castroville. They made a meal I’ll remember for a long time. Delicious. I also picked up a bag of baby artichokes to marinate. I’ll find out in a day or so if they’re delicious too.

Here’s the recipe:

3 quarts water
2 cups white vinegar

3 cloves garlic

1 teaspoon salt
24 baby artichokes, trimmed to edible stage – keep whole

(This recipe didn’t make enough marinade, so I had to make several batches.)
1 cup wine vinegar (I used red and white.)
1 cup vegetable oil (I used olive oil.)
½ tsp. garlic powder
3 Tbs. minced parsley

Bring water, white vinegar, garlic, and salt to a rolling boil. Stir in artichokes and continue stirring for one minute. Cover and boil 10-15 minutes or until tender. Drain and cool. Cut artichokes into halves or quarters. Snip off any purple leaves.

Mix together wine vinegar, oil, garlic powder, and parsley. Add artichokes. Stir, cover and refrigerate. Will keep several weeks in the refrigerator. Stir occasionally.

Monterey Bay

2010-03-24T16:58:00.000-07:00

The most amazing thing I've seen in a long while - a leafy sea dragon.

Slainte (Cheers)

2010-03-17T14:57:00.000-07:00

I’m in a coffee shop right now, taking a break in my work day, enjoying the gift of late winter sunshine. We’ve had an awful lot of Irish weather this year – rain, rain, more rain. Then it rained again. Today people are in flip-flops and tee-shirts, not a jacket or umbrella in sight. Not a bad way to celebrate St. Paddy’s Day. I might have an Irish coffee later, most likely not (it’s bound to give me hot flashes).

Dinner is cooking in the crockpot – corned beef – with cabbage, potatoes, and carrots to be cooked when I get home. It’s a once or twice a year meal, not really traditionally Irish, but close enough. The cabbage and potatoes are traditional of course, but the corned beef doesn’t belong to us. (It has more flavor than the average Irish palate could imagine. And I’m sure someone will find this post and pounce all over me for saying that, but it’s true; I grew up on traditional Irish cooking and it’s booorrring.)

Honestly, the best part of Irish food is the bread and dairy foods. There’s nothing like a good thick slice of Irish bread slathered with butter. I didn’t make soda bread for the holiday, but might get to it this week sometime. Now that I’ve given it a bit of thought I may have to. Or, I might just make some custard. I cheat, of course. I haven’t a clue how to make actual custard, and don’t really care to learn, especially when I like the taste of Bird’s Custard so much.

So raise a glass, a fork or a spoon, and have a happy St. Paddy’s Day.
Slainte.

Breathing In

2010-03-08T20:03:00.000-08:00

February is finally over. The shortest month of the year was too busy, packed with deadlines and long days that weren’t quite long enough. Or maybe it was that my energy was running short. In the middle of working extra days and hours I decided to take a short course at the local college and work on my taxes at the same time. Whew.

March is starting at a slower pace and I’m letting myself ease into more gentle projects around the house. Of course, after the craziness of the past six weeks there’s a lot of housework that needs catching up, but no one ever died from needing to dust the baseboards, so I’m not pushing too hard on those things. No, instead, I’m taking time to stare out the windows at trees whipping in the wind and big, fat raindrops splashing on pavement.

That’s what’s calling to me right now, the small moments that are coaxing me back to the present, making me feel the wonder of approaching spring. The air is clean and I’m inhaling huge gulps of it every day.

This time last year I was in over my head with caregiving. This year I’m done with that. There was terrible loss mixed in with the hectic joy of planning my wedding. My emotions swung from fear and stress to hopeful happiness. Today, right now, I’m on a more even keel. It’s a good feeling.

Maybe I’ll even get back to this page more often. I’m not going to make a promise or set a goal; instead I’ll let myself string some words together and see where it leads me.

Getting Some Sunshine

2010-02-15T14:59:00.000-08:00

A happy cow.

We’re finally getting a break from the rain, and just in time too. I’m beginning to feel like I should grow gills or webs. We’ve had more rain than normal - three times the amount we’d gotten by this time last year. So we got out of the house early yesterday morning and headed to Point Reyes National Seashore. It’s as pretty a place as you could imagine, and the weather is surprisingly warm, given that it’s on the northern California coast and our beaches are not so sunny.

We had breakfast in Point Reyes Station at the Bovine Bakery - a bran muffin and chai tea – and then drove to Drakes Beach where we watched huge waves crash onto the shore, saw magnificent Tule Elk (see photo here), and scratched the foreheads of cows who seemed as happy to see the sun as we were.

Winter Nest

2010-02-01T17:10:00.000-08:00

The rain has been pouring down here for a good portion of the last couple weeks. This year, for the first time in quite a while, I’ve been enjoying it tremendously. It’s good weather for nesting. We’ve done a bit of re-arranging the furniture, making a cozy office/studio space for me so my creative pursuits aren’t spread all over the house, but are instead corralled to one room. Makes the rest of the house feel more open and organized.
Of course, now that I have lots of space to be crafty, I’m finding I’d rather be in the kitchen. It’s citrus time and I’ve had an abundance of oranges and Meyer lemons, too many to eat or make lemonade (besides, it’s the wrong season for ice cold lemonade, brrr), so I’ve made orange-lemon marmalade and lemon bars. Let me tell you, they’re both so easy I don’t know why I haven’t made more before now.
Marmalade is nothing more than slices of citrus fruit, sugar, and water. It takes a while to cook to the gelling point, but oh, is it worth it. And lemon bars! I had no idea how easy these are to make. I’m not a baker by any means and if I can turn out a pan of something this yummy, well, anyone can. Really. You can find the recipe here.

It's Raining, It's Pouring

2010-01-19T13:27:00.000-08:00

(Why we need rain.)

It’s supposed to be storming right now, heavy rain and gusty winds. The weather forecasters have been advising that we’re going to get clobbered this week. We need it. We haven't had a normal amount of rainfall in several years, but it looks like we might get it all at once. It’s a day to stay home.

Right now the sun is breaking through, the sky is dark and clouds speed by, heavy with the next round of rainstorm. They’re beautiful when they’re lit by scattered sunlight.

Early this morning I dashed out to get grocery shopping done before the worst of the rain hit. I hate trying to unload grocery bags in the rain. Later I’ll roast a chicken - there’s nothing like filling the house with good, warm cooking smells on a rainy day - and finish the marmalade I started last night. That’s what today is all about - staying cozy and capturing orange sunshine.

What makes you feel cozy in the middle of winter?

Update - Wednesday night: The rain arrived, along with wind, thunder, lightning, and now, hail. We're into the fourth storm in four days with more to come. The sky has opened ferociously.

Wishful Thinking ...

2010-01-13T10:56:00.001-08:00

From Chaos

2010-01-01T16:07:00.000-08:00

The great guest room/studio transformation of 2010 has begun. The bed we donated was picked up yesterday, making it easier to empty the rest of the room. There was more stuff in there than I’d realized. I’m apparently very good at stashing things away. Now that it’s mostly empty we my husband will paint the room a delicious color that will (hopefully) inspire me to be terribly creative.

In the meantime, my books, pictures, and boxes of I-don’t-know-what are shoved into the guest bathroom. It gives me the perfect opportunity to sort through it all when I move everything back.

It’s the beginning of a new year and the perfect time to let go of that which no longer serves me well. That’s my theme for this year, letting go. I’m not one to make resolutions, but this morning, while I was showering, I realized that I’ve let myself get pulled into other people’s drama too often, letting it color my happiness with worry and anxiety. Last year saw me get in over my head caring for other people. That’s no way to live.

I won’t say it won’t ever happen again – that's setting myself up for failure – but I’ll work very carefully to make sure I keep my feet planted in my own life. How I go about doing that is going to be a work in progress. While it will surely include exercise and making time to play, it will also mean asking myself how a thought or feeling or situation serves me. Can I really make a difference or am I just driving myself into the ground? It’s kind of a big life lesson.

So this year begins with sorting and choosing; what to keep, what to let go, asking how it contributes to my quality of life. Who knew such soul-searching could come from moving furniture?

In the Candy Store

2009-12-29T17:30:00.000-08:00

I’m like a kid in a candy store this week, or just a grownup getting to stay home until after the first of the year, hanging out in my jammies, drinking hot chocolate, and getting some long neglected house projects out of the way.

There have been several phone calls back and forth with a local homeless shelter regarding the donation of the bed in my spare room. Once it goes to a family in need I’ll have that room clear to transform it into what I’ve been wanting for years – a writing/art room. A studio. A room of one's own. Then I’ll have no excuse to avoid writing, and my creative messes will be limited to one room instead of spread around the rest of the house.

This post is being written on my new toy; my husband gave me a new laptop for Christmas. I’ve wanted one for years, and now that I’ll have a room just for me it’s the perfect gift at the perfect time. Yep, I’m like a kid in a candy store. And it’s only going to get better.

Solstice

2009-12-21T16:53:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting here at the computer wrapped in a blanket with a hot cup of tea in front of me. It’s cold and gloomy outside, and not so much better inside. Until I moved into this house I’d spent a good portion of my adult life heating with wood. Sometimes it was my only heat source. While I’d gotten tired of hauling wood – and making sure I had a good supply in before the first cold days – I’ve never fallen out of love with a good, roaring fire. Forced air heat doesn’t compare. There’s nothing to cozy up to and you can’t warm your toes on a heating vent in the ceiling. It doesn’t even look warm.

There are all sorts of reasons not to have wood fire; it’s bad for the environment, you have to cut down trees for fuel, it’s messy and time-consuming. But right now, honestly, I don’t care. I miss a fire. It’s really the only way I know to make a house toasty warm and welcoming during the dark winter days.

And here we are at the Winter Solstice - the shortest day of the year, the longest night, the day the light begins its return. I like to do a little ritual every year at this time to welcome warmth back to the world, inviting the light into my home. It makes me appreciate the winter more and keeps me aware that spring will come, no matter how dark and cold it is until then.

Until then I’ll light lots of candles and drink cup after cup of tea.

Ordinary

2009-12-13T16:57:00.000-08:00

I like ordinary things. Plain, everyday things that have been lived with for a long time. New has little appeal for me, instead it’s the scratched piece, or the one with a dent I like. The well-loved, but not threadbare thing I, or someone else, have owned for years. There’s a sense of continuity that makes me feel at home.

When I look around my house I see the couch my husband brought from his first marriage (it’s in ridiculously good condition) and the china hutch I brought from mine, a cupboard my husband made using old glass doors I found at a garage sale, a desk I bought at an estate sale 27 years ago. And little things: cloth napkins that get softer with each washing, a small clock I can hear tick-tocking from the other side of the house, mixing bowls I’ve collected from thrift stores and garage sales, the afghan I crocheted while healing from my first heartbreak a lifetime ago.

They’re all ordinary things, simple belongings that remind me that I’m making a home to live in for a long time. They’re part of my future now, as well as my history.

What ordinary thing makes you feel cozy in your home? Does it have a story?

To Warm the Cockles of Your Heart

2009-12-07T20:29:00.000-08:00

Last night’s dinner was pure California winter comfort food, a big bowl of Cioppino to drive away the damp chill. I try to make it at least once when crab is in season, mostly because it’s a shame to not take advantage of the ocean’s bounty.

The first time I ever had cioppino, in fact, the first I’d ever heard of it, was in my early twenties. My first clue it was a messy dish was the bib the waiter tied around my neck before he set my meal in front of me. I haven’t eaten cioppino in public since. It’s a meal to be shared at home with people who won’t mind that you’ve got sauce on your hands and who expect you to mop up the last few bites with a hunk of sourdough bread.

This is my tried and true recipe. It’s open to adjustment and is always a little different depending on how spicy I want it to be, whether I use tomatoes with herbs already added, and what seafood looks good at the store.

Cioppino Sauce

2 – 4 shallots, finely chopped

2 – 4 garlic cloves, minced

Red wine (1 cup)

2 cans crushed tomatoes

1 bottle clam juice

Fresh parsley, finely chopped (1/2 bunch)

Thyme, Oregano, Red pepper flakes (to taste)

Sauté shallots and garlic in olive oil. Add red wine & reduce. Add crushed tomatoes, clam juice, parsley, thyme, oregano, red pepper fllakes, and simmer. (I simmered mine for almost two hours, partially covered.) Add seafood.

I used Dungeness crab, scallops, shrimp, mussels, and clams, adding them the last 10 minutes of cooking.

Light candles, pour good red wine, and dig in.

Getting Crafty

2009-12-02T20:40:00.000-08:00

The living moment is everything. - D.H. Lawrence

The heart of a sweet life is in saucy friendship.

Giving Thanks

2009-11-26T10:40:00.000-08:00

It’s Thanksgiving Day here in the United States, the day we gather with family and friends, eat too much good food, follow traditions, and make memories. And, hopefully, find a moment in the busy-ness to be thankful for what we have.

Every family has its own way of celebrating the day. For some people it’s a full-on turkey dinner, for others it might be a picnic at the beach. Some families aren’t even related to each other, but have found a heart connection that binds them as surely as blood. It’s all about setting aside some time to be with people you love and really seeing each other in the best, most caring light.

We’ll spend the day at my sister-in-law’s house, gathered around a huge table filled with amazingly delicious and beautiful food. It’s going to be a good day, full of all the things that make a holiday.

I have so much to be thankful for: my husband, a warm home, that in a tough economy we both have jobs, for the families of my heart and blood, for the many small moments that make life magical.

I’d love to hear about your day. How do you celebrate?

Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Making the Bitter Sweet

2009-11-17T21:07:00.000-08:00

Have you ever eaten a fresh cranberry? Let me tell you, you haven’t missed out on anything. There’s nothing to recommend it. You wouldn’t want to grab a handful to nibble while watching a movie. They’re not a tasty treat.

But add a little sugar, some chopped orange and walnuts, raisins, and port, cook it for awhile and magic happens. Put it in jars and you’ve got deliciousness to last all year. Today I canned 24 four ounce jars of Cranberry Port Conserve. I can’t say it’s my best effort, but it’s pretty good.

Making jams or conserves is a meditation for me. I breathe and pay attention to details, one step at a time, everything in its own time. No hurry, no wishing it might be different. It just is.

Most often jam is made from sweet fruit; it’s not a stretch to make it edible. A cranberry requires something more, a willingness to see what it might become with a little imagination.

Cranberry Port Conserve

4 cups fresh or frozen cranberries

2 cups granulated sugar

¾ cup port

½ cup finely chopped, peeled orange

1/3 cup raisins

¼ cup chopped walnuts

Combine cranberries, sugar, and port – bring to a full boil over high heat and cook, uncovered, until berries pop.

Add orange and raisins. Return to a boil, reduce heat and boil gently, uncovered, until mixture forms a light gel, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and stir in nuts.

Process in a hot water bath for 5 minutes.

Recipe from The Complete Book of Year-Round Small-Batch Preserving by Ellie Topp and Margaret Howard.

Wishing and Hoping

2009-11-12T20:05:00.000-08:00

Every year, when the dandelions go to seed, I can’t help but want to make wishes on each one that floats by. When I was a kid we called them fairies, chasing and then catching them with both hands so they couldn’t escape before we’d whispered our wishes to them.

I still make wishes on dandelions and stars and birthday candles. I also know that wishes don’t always come true, and when they do, they often look differently than we’d imagined. And sometimes the wish itself needs a little adjusting – kind of like the dandelion seed in the picture. It’s a little ragged.

That doesn’t mean we should stop making wishes, or be afraid of what we wish for. We need our wishes. They help us live well.

So go ahead … close your eyes, make a wish, hold it gently, let it go.

2009-11-07T06:32:00.000-08:00

Sometimes there are no words, only our own quiet breath.

Not So Perfect

2009-11-02T18:00:00.001-08:00

Almost forty years ago I made this little cup. It’s been packed up and moved with me at least a dozen times, and never, not once, have I thought about throwing it out. It was the first thing I ever made.

It’s supposed to be a Japanese tea cup, a beautiful thing for a graceful ceremony. I was nine; grace and beauty weren’t within my reach then – and often aren’t now – but I tried anyway.

The cup is too shallow, the rim too wide, the glaze drips down the side without pattern, my little fingertips left indents where there should have been a smooth surface. I compared my cup to those made by my classmates and came up short; I may have cried.

It now sits on the china hutch where everyone can see it. I keep it because it reminds me that something doesn’t have to be perfect to be precious. It’s a good lesson about the other parts of life too.

In the last few years I’ve ventured into making things again. Sometimes they’re beautiful and sometimes they’re kind of pathetic. There probably isn’t an artistic masterpiece in my future and it doesn’t matter a bit. What I love is dropping into a meditative state when I’m mid-project, the sense of curiosity about where I’m being led, the satisfaction of having done my best.

If, in the end, I’ve made a thing of beauty, that’s an extra gift.

Opening The Front Door

2009-10-22T21:21:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Wild Plum Cottage. We’re pretty informal here, so get comfy, put your feet up; maybe you’d like cup of tea while I tell you about what you'll find here.

The Cottage itself isn’t really a cottage; to be honest it’s a rather modern house in a subdivision that sits at the edge of town, and though there isn’t a wild plum tree in sight, there are four ornamental plum trees in our front yard. A couple years ago one tree began producing a mind-boggling amount of small, juicy plums – perfect for making jam. An obsession was born. I make a lot of jam. Some attempts have been spectacular, others not so great.

Either way, it’s the process I love - the quiet attention to detail, the way I can’t get ahead of myself or be too distracted by any other part of life, the sweet smell of fruit and sugar boiling, the jewel-toned jars cooling on the table. You'll find recipes here too, especially when I discover one too delicious to keep to myself.

I like making things and it doesn't stop in the kitchen. There’s a room at the top of the stairs that’s officially known as the Guest Room. Unofficially, and more accurately, it’s known as the Room That’s Always a Mess because at least one project is laid out on the bed and another stacked up on the desk at all times. You’ll hear more about my creative binges later.

I’m of the firm belief that creativity can heal just about any grief. At its best it helps us find happiness. The worst it can do is clutter the house. But then, house cleaning gives my mind time to ponder other things, like writing and re-arranging the furniture. It's all creative if I let it be.

Life is full of small moments and quiet gestures, brimming with magic and wonder - if we slow down long enough to see and feel and hear its song.

Wild Plum Cottage is my home away from home, a place to let those things I love shine, whether in the kitchen, in that room at the top of the stairs, or in the garden. It might be something I see during my commute or on a Sunday morning drive into the countryside with my husband. If it makes me happy, catches my eye, or otherwise piques my interest, you'll see or read about it here.