summer

Little Daughters of Jade

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Fifteen years ago, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, a friend brought me a sliver of jade plant, taken from her own larger one. The tiny jade was in a yogurt container, and as my friend passed it to me, she said, “This is for luck.”

Naturally, this made me extremely superstitious about the plant, whom I unimaginatively named Jade. Over the years, I have tended Jade faithfully and lovingly, watering her when needed and feeding her once a month.

I wish I had taken a picture of baby Jade, but I had no idea how she would grow. And grow and grow.

Now, fifteen years later, this is what Jade looks like.

Jade certainly attracts attention. Delivery people and friends alike marvel at Jade’s size and beauty.

A while back, when one of Jade’s branches broke, it occurred to me that I could propagate more little Jades so that if—God forbid—anything ever happened to big Jade, her spirit would live on in her daughters.

Propagating more little Jades proved to be ridiculously easy. I filled a small glass with water and tucked the tiny jade stems into the water. Within a month or so, hairy roots appeared, and I planted them in small pots with potting soil.

Readers might have noticed a cluster of babies around Jade on the buffet. Here is a closer look at the daughters of Jade, on our front deck right after I planted and watered them.

The other day, I brought a daughter of Jade over to a friend who is dealing with her own health issues. “This is for luck,” I told her, thus keeping the tradition going.

The rest will be for the young woman who delivers our weekly farm share that we get from our own Farmer Kev. Some time ago, I had given her a daughter of Jade—not because she was ill but just because she wanted one—and she recently told me that her daughter of Jade is thriving. She also mentioned that many of her friends would love to have their own daughter of Jade: “As many as you want to give away.”

We’ll see if she wants five little daughters. If not, I know I can find homes for the rest of them.

For some reason, in my mind Jade is a matriarch and her children are daughters. Why this should be I’m not sure. I suppose it must be because even though the name Jade can be used for both genders, I envisioned the original little Jade as feminine, a manifestation of the luck my friend was giving to me. And my vision for Jade’s offspring goes in the same direction.

I also like to think that luck is like love, something that grows and spreads as we bestow good wishes on others. After all, it’s a hard old world, and most of us, for whatever reason, could use the blessing of luck.

 

Books, Environment, Flowers

This. Is. Not. Normal.

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Last week on Tuesday, this is what the thermometer outside our dining room window read.

To add insult to injury, the Winthrop Weather Station gave us this additional information.

This is Maine. In June. Back in the day, June was so cool and rainy that sometimes my father had to replant the green beans because they rotted in the soil. Not every year, but enough so that I remember him complaining about it.

Fortunately, during the extreme heat, we had our new heat pumps, and they worked like champs. They were installed at exactly the right time, and we are so very grateful to have them. They kept us cool and comfortable for the two days the extreme heat came to Maine.

Aside from the alarmingly high heat, the sad thing is the denial that I saw on Facebook. When the local meteorologists posted the heat warnings and noted that these were record-breaking temps, all too many people protested. There was “I remember it getting this hot when I was young.” Oh, really, I thought, did you live in Maine? Or, “It’s summer, deal with it.” As though the extreme heat were a trifling matter, and only wimps complained about it when in fact , according to NOAA, extreme heat kills more people than any other weather event.

Who are the people writing such things? Bots? Shills for the fossil fuel companies? Folks who just don’t want to face the truth?

How bad does it have to get before there is a general consensus about climate change and the will to do something about it?

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On a happier note…it is peak garden time at our home by the woods.

Here is a view of our backyard from above, taken from the dining room.

A closer look.

And even closer.

Now to the front, for a froth of astilbes.

With such visual delights, the extreme heat can be forgiven. But not forgotten.

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Reading

Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.
–James Baldwin, 1962

During the heatwave I ordered Mike Berners-Lee’s A Climate of Truth, a much-needed look at how denying the truth about climate change has not only held us back but has endangered us as well.

Even though I haven’t finished the book, I can highly recommend it. It is clear, well written, and moves right along. The book has also made me think about what I can do in my own life to reduce my carbon footprint. There is plenty of room for improvement even for this family of green beans.

Celebrate, Food

All about Clif

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In the United States, June 15 was Father’s Day, but we decided to celebrate it a week later on June 21. Our daughter Shannon, who lives in Boston with her husband Mike and their dog Holly, took some time off from work to come midweek. (Mike, who recently started a new job, couldn’t join us until Friday.)

A mini-vacation, with much eating and some drinking, ensued. (Because of the merriment, I couldn’t keep up with reading blogs and then commenting. My apologies! This week will be better.)

On a cool, misty Thursday morning, Shannon, Clif, Holly, and I went to nearby Hallowell to sit by the river. By gum, the sturgeon were jumping, but unfortunately I wasn’t fast enough to get a picture.

Clif with coffee
Holly waits for a treat

The next day there was a trip to Newcastle, a lovely little town by the Damariscotta river in Midcoast Maine. We got sandwiches at Salt and Pepper, a vegan cafè overlooking the river. Because we brought Holly, we decided to go to what must be one of the prettiest picnic areas in Maine, one that overlooks a salt marsh.

We all enjoyed our sandwiches, but the winner was Clif’s beet pastrami on foccacia. We liked it so much that I’m going to try to replicate it at home.

Then came Mike, on Friday night, and on Saturday, the beer boys were ready for a brew at Cushnoc in Augusta. (Shannon, Dee, and I are more cocktail girls.)

This was followed by a pizza palooza. (Don’t worry. We took some home for our Sunday night supper.)

On Saturday evening, stuffed with good food and drink, we sat in the screen house as dusk came to our home by the edge of the woods.

As well as being treated to delicious pizza and beer, Clif got some lovely presents, but as he noted, the best present of all was everybody getting together.

That’s the way of things, isn’t it?

 

 

 

 

Environment, News

Our Electric Journey

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Longtime readers will know that Dee, Clif, and I take climate change very seriously. While we know that a system-wide change is absolutely essential, we believe that individuals have a responsibility, too.  As such, we are doing what we can—actually, what we can afford—to stop burning fossil fuels for energy. In short, we are going electric. This is the first time in human history that folks have this option, and kudos to all the engineers and designers who have made this possible.

To date: We have one electric car and a charger, which is right in our yard. The car’s range is over 200 miles, even in the winter, and the car has worked beautifully. (We have had it about a year now.) In our electric car, we have driven to southern Maine, a round trip of about 170 miles, without a single hitch. Our second car is a traditional gasoline engine car, and we hope to get another electric one when it’s time to trade it in. (As our gasoline car is 15 years old, that time will soon be coming.)

For heat, as is typical of many Mainers, we have a variety of systems. We have electric baseboard heat, which works well but is expensive. This came with the house. We have a wood furnace in the basement, which puts out the coziest heat ever, but hauling wood is a lot of work, and Clif is no longer a spring chicken. Then, about twenty-five years ago, we had propane heaters installed. They work well, but they still use fossil fuel and recently, they have become expensive to run.

A few weeks ago, we had the propane heaters removed, and in their place, two heat pumps were installed. Here is the one that will heat (and cool!) our kitchen, dining room, and living room.

This morning was a cool June morning, not unusual for Maine. Inside, the temp was about 64°F. We turned on the heat pump, and it didn’t take long for the dining room, kitchen, and living room to reach a comfortable 70°. At which point, the heater shut off.

Best of all, the heat pumps will cool the air and remove the excess humidity. For the past few years in Maine, July has been a horrible hot month, with effective temperatures in the 100s. I can only imagine what my parents and grandparents would think of these temperatures. Back in the 70s, when it reached 85°, we thought the heat was unbearable. But it only reached 85° a few days at the end of July, and hardly anyone in our town had an air conditioner.

That has all changed, and we are ready with our heat pumps. Good friends have heat pumps, and they love them. Best of all, the heat pumps are much cheaper to run than electric baseboard or propane or oil.

A post about our electric journey would not be complete without mentioning a blogging friend, Tom from Tootlepedal’s Blog. He and his wife, Alison, have gone the extra mile with their electric journey. Not only do they have an electric car but they also have installed solar panels in what they call their garden. (Here, we call it a yard.)  Bravo, Tom and Alison! You two are an inspiration to me.

Finally, I do want to add that going solar and electric can be expensive, and I totally understand why it is out of the reach of some people. With our combined incomes, Dee, Clif, and I have more leeway than many folks do.  But what’s important is to make what effort you can.

In the end, small things add up.

Our little solar lights definitely come under the “small things” category, but we do love the glow.

 

And here’s a song by MJ Lenderman reminding us that we all got work to do.

 

 

 

News

Over the Moon

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This picture was completely unstaged. The iris quite naturally grew over the moon.

 

June, June, June! Exit Spring and enter Summer. Officially, in the northern hemisphere, Summer begins on June 20 this year. But in Maine, Summer always arrives the beginning of June. The bright green blush of the trees and bushes is gone. The leaves are full sized. Pine pollen no longer coats cars and patio furniture a hazy yellow.

The time of intense gardening is done. Do I miss it? Yes, I do. There was something thrilling about getting up each morning and planning to spend as much time outdoors as my knees would take. Housework? What’s that? My book that’s coming out in the fall? Editing will have to wait until June. May gives northern gardeners a sense of urgency and purpose that pushes most other activities to the side. And nothing brings zest to life like a sense of urgency.

Yet, how good it is to settle into summer. Clif put up the screen house, which means we can enjoy sitting on the patio after 4 p.m. when the mosquitoes come out in hordes to plague us. It has been a wet spring, perfect breeding weather for those dratted little biters.

Take that, mosquitoes!

 

June is also the time I get together with my blogging friend, Judy of New England Garden and Thread. It is a treat I always look forward to. Last week, we met at Stonewall Kitchen in York, Maine. They have a lovely patio where Judy and I can sit and chat for hours, where none of the servers will give us pointed looks suggesting that we have outstayed our welcome.

We arrived early, at around 11:00, just after breakfast had ended and just before the lunch crowd arrived. We had our choice of seats.

By noon, the patio was full.

 

I had a fig jam and brie grilled cheese served with homemade chips. My oh my, was that sandwich ever good. I could have one for lunch today. And tomorrow.

Judy and I talked about gardens—she brought me aster and lupine seedlings—and family. We tried to solve the problems of the world, but as they are so big and numerous, I’m afraid we didn’t get very far.

Our next plan is to get together with blogging friend Dorothy from The New Vintage Kitchen. The distance is more of a challenge, but we hope we can make it work.

Stay tuned!

 

 

 

News, Spring

I’m Back…Sort of

66 Comments

Hello, all!

Beautiful May rushed by in a green haze of gardening. It was a wet month, but as long as there wasn’t a downpour, I was outside working. I was worried about how I would be able to garden with such creaky knees, but as the old saying goes, where there’s a will, there’s a way.

Clif did all the heavy lifting as well carting away leaves in the  wheelbarrow. I set a chair wherever I was working so that I could sit down when the knees got too achy. And by gum, I got quite a bit done. Not as much as I would have liked, but enough to have a thriving garden. There certainly is a lesson here, isn’t there?

Although I still hobble a bit and use my cane when I am out and about, my knees are slowly improving. (I was on medication that made my bad knees even worse. I am no longer on that medication.) When the intensive gardening is done, I plan to go back on the exercise bike, and I’m guessing my knees will improve even more. Biking has always been a big help.

I still have one more week of extra busyness in the garden, and after that it will be just maintenance. This is why I added “Sort of” in the title of this piece. I will try to keep up with blog reading as best I can, but I think it’s going to catch-as-catch-can until the last push is done.

Also, I am taking time for a little fun. On Wednesday, I will be meeting Judy of New England Garden and Thread for our annual lunch out. What a treat it is to get together regularly with a blogging friend. I wish more of you lived close enough so that we could do this.

I’ll end with pictures of the beauty that can be found in our little one-acre yard. Some of the flowers are there courtesy of Mother Nature, and others are from garden.

First, from my gardens.

In the front yard, Solomon’s seal
In the backyard, the garden abutting the patio

And courtesy of Mother Nature.

Jack-in-the pulpit
And the ever lovely violets

 

See you next week.

News, Spring

Spring, Spring, Spring! Time for a Blogging Break

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Oh, those red buds against the blue sky.

Finally, spring has arrived in Maine. The air is warm but not too hot. The perennials in my gardens are coming up green and strong. When the day is fine, out I go to clear my beds of leaves and other debris and then spread rich black compost on them. This will be followed by some organic fertilizer.

Longtime readers know how much I love winter—I’m a northern woman, after all—but when spring finally arrives, I am absolutely smitten by this lovely time of year, despite all the work it brings. Maybe because of all the work it brings.

Also, while I still have creaky knees, they have improved by quite a bit. (I was on medication that unfortunately affected my joints. I am no longer taking that medication.) Clif is willing to help with the wheelbarrow and fetching bags of compost from the local feed store. Between the two of us, we are making good progress with the yard and gardens.

But spring in Maine is brief, and I have one month to get things sorted in my gardens. Therefore the time has come to take my yearly break while I garden as fast as my sixty-seven-year-old body will allow. I will keep up with blog reading as best I can. If we have a rainy spell—pray God we don’t—I’ll post a brief piece.

But until June, my posts will be far and few between.

Happy spring to all who live in the northern hemisphere, and happy fall to those who live in the southern hemisphere.

Hummingbirds have been spotted in Maine. I will be ordering another red feeder for the other side.

 

 

Celebrate

A Birthday and Earth Day: Living in Accordance with Nature

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As longtime readers might recall, April 22 is a special day for our family. It is the birthday of Shannon, our youngest daughter. How long ago it seems when she first came into this world, and how thrilled we were to greet her. I remember her little baby body and face, immediately so dear to both Clif and me. (We felt exactly the same way about our eldest daughter Dee when she was born.) So a very happy birthday to you, Shannon. Even though it’s a weekday, I hope you slide in some kind of special treat.

Today is also Earth Day, its 55th anniversary. With another administration, this might have been a time of great celebration, a time to honor and love this beautiful planet that gives us life.  However, I have not heard that the Trump Administration has anything special planned for Earth Day’s 55th anniversary. (Unless of course,  you count trying to roll back environmental protections as a hateful kind of reverse celebration.) Gone are the days when both Democrats and Republicans worked together to create the first Earth Day, which in turn gave rise to the Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act, and other environmental protections.

While cities, especially, benefited from the Clean Air Act, the whole country benefited from the Clean Water Act. I am old enough to remember when the rivers in Maine were a polluted mess, seemingly dead zones that most folks avoided. In central Maine, the Kennebec River ran dark and dirty, winding through Waterville and Augusta as it made its way to the ocean. I don’t recall ever seeing a bird on the river. Now, the Kennebec is filled with life from both within and without. Sturgeons, that prehistoric-looking fish, leap and splash in the waters. Bald Eagles and Osprey have made their homes by the river, and you can hear their calls as they talk to each other and hunt for food. (I was an adult when I saw my first Bald Eagle. Now they are common in central Maine.)

At our home on the edge of the woods, we do our best to live, as the Daily Stoic put it, “in accordance with nature.” The lawn is left to its own devices, our philosophy being if it’s green, it’s good.  My beds are nourished with compost and organic fertilizers, and I have never used pesticides on any of my plants. This means, of course, that my gardens are far from perfect looking. Insects and other creatures will nibble, and by August my hostas look like green lace.

Never mind. The dark mysterious woods that abut our yard have so much life that flutters, jumps, and creeps. What pleasure it gives us to be part of this, to watch baby chipmunks make their first cautious forays out of their burrow; to watch the various fledglings—nuthatches, cardinals, and chickadees—as they pester their parents for food. We smile at the little leopard frog that has taken up residence in our garden fountain.

In the summer, on the patio at night, we listen to barred owls hoot to each other. Bats fly in a swish over our roof and disappear into the woods. From the nearby Narrows Pond, we can hear the lonesome cry of loons: “Where are you? Where are you?”

We are right here, along with all the other creatures who call this place home. And here we will stay as long as we can.

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Listening

Songs for Earth Day
(And, yes, the songs were chosen with diversity in mind.)

Paradise by John Prine

Wake up America by MIley Cyrus

Burn On by Randy Newman

Go to the Woods by Dar Williams

And last, but certainly not least, the great Marvin Gaye’s Mercy Mercy Me.

 

Celebrate

To Boston, To Boston!

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On Saturday, Dee, Clif, and I went to Boston to visit Shannon and Mike. Shannon’s birthday is in a week or so, and we figured last weekend would be less busy for travel than next weekend, which is Easter weekend.

I’d like to write that Saturday morning was bright and sunny, a perfect day for traveling. But that’s not how it was. Instead, we woke up to snow. When we checked the forecast, we discovered that the snow would soon turn to rain and then rain for the entire weekend. We figured if we left early, we wouldn’t have to hurry and would safely get to the train station, which is in Brunswick, about forty-five minutes away when the weather is good.  All went as planned. We made it safe and sound to the train station in good time. However, we did see an accident on the highway—fortunately on the north-bound side—and we were glad we had taken it slow.

Eventually, the snow did turn to rain, giving everything a mysterious, ghostly look as we headed south to Boston.

We went by misty trees and water.

Even the overpass looked moody.

But inside the train, all was warm and cozy. Clif got his usual can of Sam Adams to kick off the trip.

Once at Shannon and Mike’s apartment, we were greeted by Holly the dog.

Mike made us martinis.

As we sipped our drinks, we listened to actual albums on the record player Dee, Clif, and I bought Mike for Christmas.

And what did we listen to? Harvest by Neil Young. It still amazes me that Dee, Mike, and Shannon like the music I listened to as a teenager. Let’s just say I don’t feel the same way about my parents’ music and leave it at that.

Then it was off to Carlo’s Cucina Italiana, a cozy restaurant with a fun, friendly vibe. Not only was the food delicious, but I was also impressed with the way the staff treated elders. They were solicitous of me as without my cane, I carefully made my way into the restaurant. Then, after I was seated, two women, also elders, came in. They might have been sisters; they might have been friends. One of the servers, a man, rushed over to them.

“Hello, darlings,” he said. “So good to see you two.”

Then he escorted them to one of his tables. The women were obviously regulars. Perhaps they left especially good tips, but whatever the case, they were welcomed in a way that seniors aren’t always welcomed.

Best of all, the food was so good. And plentiful. Here is a picture of my tortellini. I could only eat half. The other half was boxed and brought to Shannon and Mike’s apartment to be left with them as part of a supper meal some night.

Shannon had a seafood pasta dish, and like me, she couldn’t eat all of her meal. This, too, was boxed and taken home. The other half of Shannon and Mike’s supper meal.

After Carlo’s it was back to the apartment for presents and cupcakes.

What a jolly day of food and fun.

We are so grateful that Shannon and Mike live within an easy train trip of us. And while I’m at it, I am also grateful that Amtrak was recently extended from Portland to Brunswick. It’s much easier for us to take a train in Brunswick than it is to go to Portland, a half hour south of Brunswick.

Vive le train! Such a great way to travel.

 

 

A blog about nature, home, books, movies, television, food, and rural life.