Transitions

Guardians of Highland House

There is no surer sign that winter is coming than the hares jumping into the shelter of the porch. I took these guys out of their slightly overgrown garden spots, cleaned them off, and benched them to thoroughly dry before taking their stations as guards of the fortress. I really do love these guys. Not cute, and a little somber if not threatening.

We got back from a short fall trip with the realization that we need to finish up the fall rituals. I harvested the last of the apples, and the raspberries are barely dribbling in. 

 

 

Last Gasp of raspberries

I had a jacket on while harvesting, and the constant hum of the bees is gone. At least it wasn't cold, only autumn-cool. The plants also look like they've had it with all of this fruit bearing nonsense. A little ragged, and waiting for the first real frost to release them from their tasks until next spring. A rest. As a gardener, I also like that part.

Very Tired Mother

 

 

 

 

The hydrangeas are putting on their last show of the season. I'll bring them all in tomorrow, arranged in some sort of unusual pot, and will likewise cut as many herbs as I can and keep them in water. They last a surprisingly long time in water, at room temperature. I think they're already hardened off from the cool nights, and are just waiting for that hard frost to knock them down. I accidentally discovered how lovely they were arranged in handmade mugs. . . a reminder, however brief, of the past warm season.

 

I put the sage in a butter lemon sauce last night. I will miss being able to step outside and bring it in. It's the hardiest of my herbs, though, so I'll likely have it for a few more weeks.

I always dream of having rosemary make it through the winter. You'd think that with over a foot of snow on top, she could do it, but even the hardiest plants don't seem to make it through our Maine winters. Note the lovage leave in the left corner. I cut it back to the ground a couple of weeks ago, and it is sprouting like crazy. It's a water and space hog, and not quite as useful as my other herbs, so I'll take it out of the herb box next spring. It ALWAYS makes it through the winter. . .

The basil and chives look a little beleaguered. The chives are just falling over, but the poor basil was not made for fall weather.

It has been dry here. Again. Most of Maine is in a serious drought (I forget the exact language used). After living in Idaho, the thought of fire is never far from my mind. Here's hoping for another good snow year, and maybe not quite so much cold. 

The Bowl of Woe

 

I was so delighted with this bowl. The image here doesn't do it justice. And it was a bowl that was just how I had planned it. . .steeply sloping sides, a mess of combining and re-combining color in the glazing.

I had planned to put it into the sale at Waterville Creates. The bowl. . .and the kiln. . .had other plans. 

So now, this is part of what an enameling friend referred to as her "permanent collection". Not perfect enough to sell, but way too precious to toss. Oy.

Here's the problem. I re-fired the piece to get rid of a couple of pin holes in the blue glaze. . .a recurring issue with the blue glaze. But upon re-firing, the glaze ran down to the kiln shelf, stuck, and resulted in tearing away the glaze. . .and the ceramic itself. The image to the right is after I did considerable grinding. . .first the grinding wheel with a coarse grit, then a hand held diamond grinder, and finally a diamond lap grinding disk on my potter's wheel. It. Will. Never. Be. Perfect. It will also never be good enough technically to sell. But I just couldn't let it go. So now it sits in my collection of rice bowls. It is a reminder that if my skill level ever gets to be good enough to feel sophomoric, I will be reminded of how much the Gods of The Kiln rule my life. 

It is unclear to me why I continue to make pots. I have done a lot. I have a lifetime of pots to hold in my hands and use in every day life. Still. I can't stop thinking of the next project. I am oddly grateful for that, in spite of the hope/despair cycle that making pots and my health continue to fuel.

My forte is making one-offs that are for a certain purpose. I realized that I had no way to display my new business cards at the sale. So I put this little holder together on the fly. Measure, cut, embellish. A small open box for my cards. It really is rather perfect, in spite of my otherwise not-so-perfect offerings.

And here they are. Louise's Leap Studios rides again, however pedestrian the show. It's a start. Or a finish.

Dinner Companions and other fall activities

Today was the first day that it was too cold to eat outside. Or even to drink outside. Plus, it was drizzling pretty much all day.

I keep forgetting to share an image of our fairly constant drinks/dinner companion for the summer. This is Charles, our resident ground hog. He is pretty fearless, and we have agreed to eat with him as long as he stays out of the edible garden. The basil had some damage earlier in the season, and Charles was our prime suspect. Our sonic device seems to have put an end to that. And I love having him close when we're on the patio. He has grown considerably over the summer, and I truly hope we don't have to relocate him sometime next year. He is really beautiful, with his badger-like face, and his very round luxuriously furred back end. 

He loves to graze in our "lawn". He is particularly found of the plantain, which he eats whole after delicately extracting it from the grass and clover plants. He does startle if we move, but we don't do a lot of that while eating. Like most critters, he can have both positive and negative effects, but for now, I just enjoy his almost regal cuteness. We have also been bat spotting off our bedroom deck at dusk. Not tonight. . . rainy cold weather does not encourage that behavior. But I'm happy to see that at least 2 bats still fly out at dusk. I'm hoping that they are destroying our mosquito population.

Concomitant to the fall garden activity has been my preparation for the Waterville Creates holiday sale. I have been surprised by how much participating in this sale has inspired me to do work that is easy for me, as opposed to my usual experimentation/failure mode of operation.

I have had some disappointments, though. I ordered a brown clay that I thought I had worked with, but it wasn't The One. The result is a bit dull and a depressing brown, rather than the speckled brown I love so much. 

Still. There have been some rather satisfying successes as well. I made a good number of tiles/coasters, that are fun to make and can be priced reasonably. Olives tile is to the right (about 4"x4"), and the porcelain Trees tile below. I inserted a hanging device on the back of each, centered, so that they can be hung as small works of art if desired. I thought it was a cool device, but we'll see if anyone else agrees!

Sales isn't my favorite thing, but it's nice to pass it off to the arts center and let them deal with the selling. It's worth the 40% that they take for the organization, freeing me up to only Make, photograph and inventory before passing it on for the details of selling. 

 

 

 

Tide turning

Here we are in mid-September, and I feel like the onset of Fall has taken me by surprise. I don't know if this is a result of a failing brain, or just this particular season. Memorial Day, July 4th and Labor Day all took me by surprise. "So soon?" But yes. I assume that linear time is still running as always, so the suspect variable is me. 

Today I harvested the last orange to red tomatoes, and pulled the plants. The lightest orange ones will likely be a bit mealy, but they'll be fine for canning; great in soup this winter. Regrettably, I had to compost a substantial number of Sweet100 cherry tomatoes. They were red, ripe and tasty, but split upon picking. I harvested a few that didn't split, but resigned myself to letting the turkeys, chipmunks and squirrels have the rest of them via our compost pile. 

I didn't lead with this image of the tomato plants, because they look so sad. It was time to remove them, in spite of the fact that the first frost is likely at least a month off. 

Removing the plants is a hard job. It is both physically trying and tedious. The tedious part comes from removing all of the string that that held up my lovely wall of fruit and leaves. Some of the string can be re-used, so I wind it into a ball, making me think of the world's largest ball of string tourist feature that is somewhere in the mid-west. I never have stopped to see it in our forays across the country.

The string that has gotten weakened by years of use and/or weather is tossed. Thrown away. Not my usual M.O. Good twine will last for years, though it gets a number of knots in it from the process of reclaiming it. My friend, the square knot, keeps it functioning just fine through the years, though.

The Joan J raspberries are really starting to come in. I am embarrassed by the state of the raspberry planting, though. Some frightened turkeys ran through it early in the summer, and the canes are disheveled and sad looking. Still. The little patch soldiers on, and I'll have plenty of fruit for jam. Apples should be in soon, and then the saucing of both apples and pears will begin. As always, a part of me is trying to savor this beautiful Fall as much as possible, but part of me will be glad to close up the garden for the season.
 

 

Breathless

Almost overwhelmed. Not quite. Tomatoes and peaches are charging in. The peaches were a disappointment. I withheld my usual (very limited) pesticide sprays and I paid for it with serious Tarnished Plant Bug (Stink bug relative) and aphid damage. Peaches are delicate things. In addition, the crows found them just before they were ripe, so a lot ended up on the ground with large pieces taken out of them. Another life lesson that I shouldn't have had to relearn. Still. I apparently thinned in a timely and appropriate way, because size and quality is fine. The tomatoes. Oh my. I planted twice as many of both cherry and regular sized tomatoes, and they are having their way with me. The season is just beginning, we are eating tomatoes and peaches at every meal . What worse fate?!? 

Tomorrow will be my biggest tomato harvest yet. I will not waste a single one. Sauce is already started, and I can dry whatever tomatoes I can't sauce. What bounty. Am I complaining? Maybe a little. I wouldn't want to ruin my reputation as a Difficult Woman. 

The weather, by the way, has been stunning. 70's during the day, 50's at night. We sit out on the patio lingering over dinner, and tonight, Peach Upside Down Cake. I tell us both to Take A Picture in Your Mind. 

Oh! And John made a new dish with my tomato sauce. Eggs in Purgatory. It sounds cooler in Italian: Uova al Purgatorio. Buon Appetito!

Something given, something grown

John's sister brought over some beautiful Georgia peaches. I resisted the impulse to take more, though she generously offered; deciding that my own tree will be ripe in 3-4 weeks, and I'll have a lot of work to do getting them jammed and stored. I'm trying to be more realistic about both what I can do, and how much we can eat or give away!

Meanwhile, the cherry tomatoes have gotten serious. . . a roasted cherry tomato something is not far off. A few raspberries continue to trickle in, though they won't get serious until about the time the peaches start coming in. Aha. Hence the origin of Peach Melba?

Meanwhile, silly as it sounds, we're getting a little tired of fresh blueberries. I've been harvesting 1-2 quarts every other day for over a week. They are slowing down, but we'll be in fresh blueberries for at least another week.

This reminds me of the days when I had over an acre of raspberries to harvest for my research at Penn State. It's not like a regular harvest. One has to get EVERY ripe berry (impossible, really, but that is the goal), and keep all of the berries from specific treatments separate. Weigh, count, then do something with quarts and quarts of raspberries. Early on the folks hired for harvesting take quite a few, but I would always end up with a ton of raspberries in the refrigerator. At one point, my fruit-loving oldest daughter asked me to stop bringing raspberries home. (!) Back then I had the energy to make All of The Raspberry Things, freeze the rest, and then come back to making Raspberry things when the harvest season was well done. Not so much these days. I am, however, grateful for the yard, the fruit, the sustenance, and the means to store food. A small bit of security in a changing world.