Tend

I have not written or published about my own world of petals and roots in a long while. Here's a blurry shot of our little white house, my mister heading up to the side door. The white cherry blossoms are still in bloom, the old cherry tree in our back yard in regal beauty. But these pink, early blossoms are long since done.

Early tulips are also finished, although shaded ones or later varieties are still blooming. I've noticed that purple tulips, like purple crocuses, seem to bloom later. These pictured above are some of my earliest tulips to bloom and are now just headless stalks next to some budding lavender.

Daffodils had a wonderful run in our cold spring, although they may be finished by now.

 Pansies and violas are and have been flourishing. Lavender is starting to bloom. My foxglove is growing tall and healthy. One of the joys this spring has been wandering around my garden, discovering that which is still alive or made it through the winter: my hawthorn and ginko trees, my echinacea, Chinese hyssop, lavender, lupine, hollyhock, salmon berries, strawberries, lemon verbena (over-wintered in the cellar), goldenrod, calendula (reseeded), peppermint (reseeded), chives, a sole leek, collard greens and kales (the flowers of which the bees love), sage, oregano, a variety of thyme, pansies, and columbine.

Right now, lavender, lilac, and bluebells are blooming which means I can plant my cucumbers and beans. In the woods, I found lots of wild columbine, bleeding heart, this mysterious yellow flower:

And a dozen wild orchids:

A winter in images

I'm sitting here drinking an amazing chocolate porter that tastes like coffee initially until the chocolate finish that Brian and Kris brewed a few weeks ago, reminiscing while I look at photos long overdue for my blog. So here are some highlights and summaries.

We had an amazing weekend of friendship, dancing, rain, hot-tubbing, and feasting for my birthday in mid-January at Arch Cape.

In February, we harvested our Plymouth barred rock. Rather the bully of the bunch, the alpha-hen, we decided we would live up to our word and harvest and feast on our first chicken.

Brian was really good at the slaughter, very calm and fast and sure. We did make some rookie mistakes, however. For one, we cut off the feet right away, a huge mistake as you want to tie the bird up and let it hang and rest for as long as a day. Then, even more careless, we buried the feet with the head. I would've liked to have used the feet to make broth.

I used my Riverside cookbook, and we slowly roasted the bird in white wine, water, fresh herbs, and vegetables. The book's directions were also helpful in the actual butchering of the meat. The meat tasted fresh and a bit like turkey, perhaps because it was roasted. It was more tender than I expected, and the flavor was strong, delicious. We had friends over and played music and drank delicious wines from Spain and Italy.

We also bought, on the same day, two new chicks; the one on the left is a black austrolorpe, a record layer, and the one on the right is also known for its egg-laying, a Rhode Island Red. Unlike last year, these chicks live in our basement.

In the past two days (including today), we've gotten four eggs! Which means that the Speckled Sussex and the Americauna are both now laying. The Sussex has been laying sporadically for a month or so now, but to get four eggs in two days is a lot for us! Crepes! Cookies! Scrambles! Frittatas! Quiche!

Minnes-OH! OO! Ah!-ta

Here are some photos that I took while in snowy December Minnesota, wandering along the frozen Mississippi River.

Here's the red-tailed fox who sunned himself in the snowy back yard. Photos by Brian. We were able to watch him for quite a while while he ate at a dead goose, cleaned ice from his paws, scratched his ears, and rolled around in the snow. Finally, he saw something shiny and scampered away.

tramping through the snow, oregon-wisconsin

Last week, Brian, Claire, and I went snowshoeing up on Mt. Hood. We found a small winding road that meandered up a hill, and we tromped up that until we saw a patch of amazingly bright sunlight. We followed it to this incredible view of Mt. Jefferson. Breathtaking.

Then we snowshoed across Trillium Lake, with the ice shifting below us and people watching us critically from the shore. But Ice Boy (aka the Minnesotan) said he'd stake his life on the security of the ice (wasn't he?), so I snapped pictures, enjoyed the view, and kept my distance from other 135 lb. or plus creatures.

It was an amazing walk. I've never snowshoed before Thanksgiving, and now, I've gone three times this year. The third time was yesterday, in Wisconsin. Brian and his climbing buddy did some ice climbing on the cliff behind their amazing home where he farms ice. Meanwhile, the non-ice-climbing girls snowshoed across the field and down to a train bed that runs along the St. Croix River.

Eventually, we found the boys on their ice trails.

Then we turned around and walked back along the trail and up the hill, back to the road.

Above is the cliff edge down which the boys went for their climb. And here they are, finishing their adventure.

We went inside and ate delicious homemade Indian food, rice and beans and spices and pickled veggies. It was amazing and inspiring, as was our snowshoe walk through the quiet Wisconsin fields and woods.

december swimming

Last weekend, we rented a yurt at Cape Lookout on the Coast. The wind howled and the rain fell most of the weekend. We went out on the beach and pretended we were human kites in the wind until we were soaked through, and then we went back to the yurt and watched movies (we set up the projector on the top bunk and hung a white bed sheet from the wall) and cooked food. On Sunday, I put on a borrowed wetsuit with hood, booties, and gloves, and I waddled out to the beach like a penguin. I was dreading getting into the water, but I had to try it out. Skeptical of the ability of this wetsuit to keep me warm, I walked gingerly into the waves. The wind was still fierce and the rain was sideways. The water on the Oregon coast is horribly cold. I'm used to body boarding for hours at the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I've never gone swimming here. Until Sunday. As soon as I stepped into the water, I realized: I want a wetsuit!!!! I jumped in the waves and frolicked and played while Brian laughed at me from the surf. He warned me that I would want one, and he's right; I do, I do, I do!

this was all before thanksgiving, oh my!

I have put away my gardening gloves and picked back up my fabrics and threads. These new kitchen curtains above I redid from a single curtain I made for our hobby room. Those were miserable curtains, despite the cheerful print. Just a single dull panel with a crooked cut. I cut them in half and turned them into two new curtains.

I have been working for well over a year now on a braided rug. Actually, I worked on it a bunch over a year ago, and then I didn't look at it again until recently when I spent the day watching "Pride and Prejudice" (the Colin Ferth version) and sewing the braids. Not finished yet, but here's a preview with Leno modeling.

 And here he wonders over Sock Monkey, still unfinished. Starting projects is such a joy. Finishing projects is also a joy. It's the middle part that's a wee bit of a slog.

We had a snow day last week, although in Portland, snow days are more like ice days. Here's what it looked like on my garden.

And for the fans of the chickens, here they are in their first ever bit of snow.

And here's what a snow day should look like (says the hardened former up-state New Yorker).

We drove up to Mt. Hood to hike and ski, but the snow was too fluffy and the air was too cold for me to do anything without snowshoes or cross country skis, so while Brian skinned up the mountain, I read Alice Walker short stories by the fire in the lodge.

Portland has no way of dealing with snow or ice. There are no snow plows, salt trucks, or sand trucks. Black ice is deemed the deadliest of threats, and when there's nothing more but some slick roads and a dusting of snow, schools are closed and we head to the mountain where the real powder is. We went for a lovely snowshoe tromp in the woods Thanksgiving weekend, but we used Amy's camera, so pictures must wait.

I love that I can just drive up to Mt. Hood for a snowshoe in the woods or to snowboard.

if you visit me, I'll take you here

This weekend, we walked along cliff edges, stood on mountain tops, and washed our feet in the ocean.

We examined small wonders, such as dew drops that held worlds of mystery. 

We feasted our senses upon the wild flowers.

In Oregon, so many flowers that are cultivated for the cottage flower garden grow wild, including irises, columbine, lupine, foxglove, bleeding hearts, sunflowers, and orchids.

We wallowed for hours in sunsets.

We climbed a mysterious moutain...

...that cleared for one wonderful day to reveal vistas of more mountains, including Mt. Rainier, Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Adams, Mt. Hood (pictured below), and Mt. Jefferson and the great Columbia River emptying into the Pacific Ocean.

And we discovered wildlife, including raccoons, bald eagles, seals, deer...

...and the life of tide pools, such as starfish and sea urchins.