At the little house in the big woods, it is not easy to grow flowers and vegetables. There is too much shade and too much ledge. We bought this house before I became smitten with gardening, and I’m not sure we would have bought it had I realized how difficult it would be to grow things here.
Still, even though I constantly grumble that we have the worst yard in Winthrop in which to garden, I do like living on the edge of the cool, green forest. During these hot, humid days, all we need is our fan in the attic to get the house down to a nice temperature in the evening. And when I sit on the patio at dusk, listening to the hermit thrush and the loons, I can’t help but think there is no finer place to be in central Maine.
I also have to admit I have had some success with flowers. Over the years, I have learned what will grow here. Unfortunately, I also have spent a fair amount of money discovering what will not grow here. At any rate, here are some pictures of my July garden, when the little house in the woods is at its prettiest.
A quiet, gray day at the little house in the big woods. Rain is forecasted, and it is much needed. We’ve had a long stretch of sunny weather, and the plants could use the refreshing rain. So far, what a wonderful summer it has been. A little cool, perhaps, but just the right amount of water and sun. The plants—both in pots and in the ground—are thriving, bringing bursts of color to all the green surrounding the house.
Much different from last year, when it rained for 20 straight days in a row. So much rain stunted my potted flowers and herbs, and they never recovered. The tomatoes were watery and prone to rotting. To my way of thinking, a bad year for tomatoes is a very bad year indeed. We only get those luscious tomatoes once a year, and what a blow it is when the crop isn’t good.
Yesterday, Farmer Kev delivered our CSA vegetables. (Yes, he delivers.)
“How are the gardens doing?” I asked.
“Not bad. Things are growing pretty well,” he answered. Then he shrugged. “I hope it continues. I always hope for the best but expect the worst.”
Oh, my! Farmer Kev is only in his early 20s, but farming has taught him to be cautious about expecting too much from the weather. For most of us, weather is a matter of personal comfort—we don’t like being too cold; we don’t like being too hot. But for farmers, it is a different matter. Their livelihood depends on weather that is beneficial for their crops—the right amount of sun and rain. Too much of either can ruin the yield, and because the weather is so capricious, Farmer Kev has every right to be wary.
Well, so far, so good. Today the rain will come and bring moisture to all the gardens in Maine. This morning when it was just sprinkling, I slid in a walk to the Narrows and took a few pictures.
When I came back, I made bread, and tonight for supper we will have baked chicken and potatoes and fresh peas from Farmer Kev’s garden.
For Father’s Day, Clif got a gift certificate for Regal Cinema, which mainly shows blockbusters, silly comedies, and movies that appeal to teenagers. We don’t go to this cinema very often, preferring the more independent movies that are shown at Railroad Square Cinema. (Hint to Railroad Square: Make your gift certificates available on your website.) However, there are certain blockbusters we do like to see, and Clif has a very soft spot for comic book films. Therefore, the current X-Men movie was calling to him, so to Regal we went on Sunday.
We hadn’t been to Regal Cinema since Christmas, and what a surprise we got when we walked into the theater showing our movie. Gone were the old, quite comfortable seats. They had been replaced with row after row of black Baracloungers, seats wide enough for even the most ample body, seats with little movable trays for refreshments. There were also gigantic cup holders and a special designated holder for popcorn. But the best feature was the footrest, popped up by a lever on the side of the armrest.
It didn’t take long for Clif and me to pop up the footrest and recline. Did it feel strange to be sitting in a recliner at the movies? Yes, it did. But I must also admit that it was very comfortable, especially for someone like me who has restless legs. When I sit, I usually squirm and fidget, and sitting with my legs up is a great help.
As we waited for the movie to start, Clif said, “They did this to make going to the movies feel as comfortable as being in your own living room.”
I agreed that this was probably the case. With movies coming so soon to DVD or to Amazon and with modern television sets being so crisp and clear, staying at home to watch a movie gets better and better.
Then there is the cost. For a family of four to go the movies, the admission is over $30, and that’s the afternoon price. Throw in popcorn, drinks, candy, and the tab comes to over $50, which for many people is a pretty hefty price for a trip to the movies.
Back in the old days, when I was a teenager, the price of a movie and popcorn really wasn’t an issue. I don’t remember what it cost, but I can’t recall ever thinking, “Wow, going to the movies and getting popcorn are just too expensive for me.”
I expect the Barcaloungers aren’t going to entice more people to go to more movies. It’s my guess that cost is the issue. Make it affordable, and more people will come. It’s that simple, but I don’t foresee cinemas lowering their prices any time soon.
One last comment about the new seats: A woman who sat in the same row as we did brought a blanket and slippers with her. Now that’s really getting into home comfort at the cinema.
Last weekend was a busy one filled with good friends and good food, my favorite kind of weekend. A parfait weekend, if you’ll pardon the pun, as on Friday we made parfaits with homemade ice cream for our friends Dawna and Jim. There was lots of good talk about photography and family.
On Saturday, we went to our friend Diane’s house in Brunswick, where we talked about our various projects, art, literature, and the places we love best.
The place I love best, aside from Maine, is England. You might even call it my heart’s home. It is the land of Shakespeare, Jane Austen, and Tolkien. It is bursting with flowers. In England, there are lots of dogs, plenty of tea, and lovely hot scones. And the green, rolling countryside seems to stretch in every direction.
For my friend Diane, Italy is her heart’s home. Art infuses all aspects of everyday life, and that really resonated with her. For her friend Jeff, it was France—the food, the climate, the people. For Jackie, another friend, it was Japan.
It’s funny how your heart’s home can be some place different from where you were born.
Today is the anniversary of my mother’s birthday, and a beautiful, fine day it is. Sunny, not too hot, not in the least humid. A perfect day for a birthday barbecue. (As I mentioned in a previous post, most of her birthday barbecues were foiled by rain.)
Mom died 6 years ago, and I still keenly feel the loss. The picture accompanying this post was taken when she graduated from high school. Such a fancy dress! To me, she looks like the queen of June—la reine de Juin. Very appropriate for someone whose birthday fell on the first day of summer.
This evening, friends are coming over, and there is much to do today, but the chicken is cooked and ready for the chicken tarragon salad. Soon I’ll be getting the milk and cream mixture ready for our homemade ice cream. Then there is a salsa dip to make as well as a spinach, pasta, and feta salad.
A busy day but such a lovely one. It’s sunny and dry and a little cool, even. Tonight we might have to shut the windows.
A few days ago, I received an email from Farmer Kev, and next week we should have peas in our CSA delivery. At the little house in the big woods, the gardens—filled mostly with shade plants—are thriving. We got off to a cold, slow start this spring, but the weather finally seems to be in the plants’ favor. I can’t recall a time in early summer when they looked so vibrant, so vigorous. The plants must be getting exactly the right amounts of rain and sun.
This is pure luck, of course. The weather gods do what they will. (Last summer they made it rain for 20 days in a row.) All we mere humans can do is give thanks when the weather gods nod in our direction. Because, let’s face it—with the human population hurtling toward 9 billion, we need plants—especially ones like peas—to thrive and flourish.
So on this day before the summer solstice, I give thanks for the green and thriving world that surrounds me, for the ferns, the hostas, and the irises, for Farmer Kev’s peas.
We are more than half-way through June, and what a lovely June it has been so far. Enough rain to keep the plants happy, and enough sun to keep the humans happy. I just love this time of year, when night doesn’t come until 9:00, leaving plenty of time for drinks—usually iced tea—on the patio and bike rides when my husband, Clif, comes home from work.
It has become warm enough so that the windows can stay open, night and day, and the air at the little house in the big woods is so sweet, so clean. This time of year, when I am in the backyard, I often stop just to smell the forest with its ferns and trees. It smells green, it smells like life. Too bad I can’t bottle and sell that aroma. People would be clammoring to buy it, and Clif and I would have a very comfortable retirement.
We are heading toward the summer solstice, a bittersweet time when the day is at its longest and loveliest. However, on Sunday, June 22, slowly, slowly it starts going the other way until the dark presses in at 4:00 p.m. Well, no point in thinking about that now.
Saturday, June 21 is also the anniversary of my mother’s birthday. She would have been 78, and I always think how wonderful it was for her to have a birthday on the summer solstice. (I also think of how often we had to have her birthday celebrations inside as June is often a rainy month in Maine, and our plans for a barbecue were inevitably foiled by the weather.)
This weekend is filled with summer solstice plans. On Friday, our friends Jim and Dawna are coming over for grilled bread and salads and parfaits made with homemade ice cream.
“Keep it simple,” Dawna told me, as she tells me every year. Usually, not only do I serve grilled bread and salad but also chicken and either rice or pasta to go with it.
“We don’t need that much food,” she said.
“Especially at our age,” I agreed.
So this year I am following her advice. We will be having simple appetizers—tortilla chips and a homemade dip made with salsa and sour cream and, of course, the bread and salads and dessert.
“Would you like me to bring over fixings for margaritas?” Dawna asked.
Would I ever! Dawna’s homemade margaritas are the best I’ve ever tasted. The weather is supposed to be good tomorrow, and it looks as though we’ll be able to enjoy our margaritas on the patio.
On Saturday, our friend Diane invited us to a potluck, so to Brunswick we will go. I plan on bringing a pasta and spinach salad, made with Farmer Kev’s spinach. I’m also going to bring cinnamon pie knots, a favorite of Diane’s.
Yesterday, my cousin Lynn noted that the day was so fine that it surely must be a 12, surpassing 10 and even 11. (Take that, Spinal Tap!) And so it was. Today seems to be following in yesterday’s footsteps with a day so lovely and warm—but not too warm—that you would like to tuck it in reserve to be used on a bitter day in, say, March, when all hope seems to be gone.
We are more than half-way through June, and so far it’s been a pretty good one. We’ve had a nearly perfect mixture of rainy and sunny days, and the gardens seem to be bursting with joy.
To celebrate this 12 kind of day, here are some pictures from the gardens at the little house in the big woods. May we have many more days like this!
At the little house in the big woods, the tradition on birthdays, anniversaries, and other special days is for a home-grown party of some kind, with the person or persons being fêted choosing the food for the celebratory meal. This meant that on Sunday—Father’s Day—Clif got to pick what was on the menu. He decided to go with fried chicken pieces and French fries, a meal we hardly ever make at home.
But what fun Shannon and I had working together to fry the potatoes and the chicken. Everything just fell into place, even though neither of us is exactly an expert at frying. I made a honey-mustard sauce to go with the chicken, and that was pretty tasty, too. For dessert, there was strawberry shortcake, one of Clif’s favorites, and in our house that means strawberries on biscuits. I’m not saying it’s the only way or the best way, but it is our way.
We ate every bit of the chicken and fries, and we tucked into the strawberry shortcake. The only thing that would have made the day better would have been to have Dee and Mike here as well. But Dee lives in New York—too far to come for the weekend—and Mike had to work. Still, we had a jolly time talking and cooking and eating, and Clif pronounced it a very good Father’s Day indeed.
Here are some pictures from our little party:
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