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.
 

 

And the harvest is on. . .

We were in Duluth for a few days, and came back to a surprise and some serious blueberries. The surprise was in the form of these golden raspberries (and 1 red). I just planted the golden, 'Anne', this spring, and we had a talk about avoiding early reproduction. Did they listen? Well, mostly. So it was truly a wonderful surprise to find these goldens  ready to harvest. 

Most of the raspberries (old and new) are just starting to flower, and we won't begin a serious harvest for at least 3 weeks. Still. A small taste of what's to come is welcome.

The blueberries, however, are in full harvest mode. I wandered out in my robe to put some in my breakfast bowl today, and we each had a bowlful with lunch. I'm putting the berries that are accidentally picked a little green (green is red in this case) in the freezer for jam to be made later.

I also harvested a bunch of kale, basil, and mint for salad greens at some lunch or dinner in the near future. The zucchini continues to have problems with an end rot issue. It's been wet, so that may be the problem, but they are seriously crowding the kale and the eggplant, so we may have to concede defeat on them this year. A friend of mine used to say that in any given year, one plant gets a chance to shine. Her raspberries were queen that year. My zucchini, this year, are definitely not going to be queen.

 

Catching up. . maybe. .

 

Here's something my Grand Daughter made on a recent visit to my studio. I was actually trying to keep her busy and engaged when I was setting up for us to Make Something, and I gave her a piece of porcelain clay, and a wooden bowl and told her to press the clay into it, but not to pierce it with her fingers. It was an inspired idea, that has made me think that I want to make some more Very Thin Porcelain bowls. Said Grand Daughter was very specific about what colors she wanted, and how she wanted them, in the finished bowl. She left it to me, since she only had a short visit. A yellow sun with pink petals around it. Say what you want, but she knows what she wants.

It's true that I would have never chose the pink, but it really did turn out well. I left the outside of the bowl unglazed porcelain, which I hope she will like. It feels wonderful on the hands, and we agreed to leave the rough edge around the top. Very fun. And full of potential.

The bunny mug, that she requested be glazed turquoise, was another success, but honestly seems a bit contrived after the free-ness of the Sun Flower bowl. It's a great functional piece, and she chose the rabbit stamp, the dot (end of a dowel) between rabbits and the border. Note also, the "cotton tail" on the base of the handle. All Grand Daughter all the time. Yay.

 

 

I haven't been completely idle in the studio either. I've spent more time trying to create the Perfect Mug. It's just getting silly at this point. But this one is pretty sweet. Glazing continues to be my nemesis, but I like the way this one turned out. And I seem to have, at least temporarily, settled on a handle that seems right to me. Pulled handles are so Everyone-Does-Them, but this cut, smoothed and stacked handle feels very right to me; both in the process of making it, and in the hand after all is said and done. It is graceful, I think, and Grace is Beauty.

 

The hand-built mug to the left is not so much my favorite. I used the dark clay from New Mexico (Marilyn's Bod), glazed with a forest green transparent, with the lip dipped in Emeraude. The Emeraude is usually an iridescent green that drips enticingly down the body of the work, but in this case it flowed sort of a turquoise-y blue, and I'm not crazy about it. Lesson learned, I hope.

 

But not so much. I glazed this rhubarb impressed dish with the same combination. The dish is much better in person than in the image here. It's a full 12" long, and I finally got the stem right, attaching and pulling it so that looks like it belongs to the leaf, but isn't fragile. Love the form, not-so-much the glaze. Lesson learned? I hope so. I really need to take better notes, and then read them.

 

In closing, my first two cherry tomatoes will be harvested tomorrow. This is the beginning of great things for our household. The blueberries are getting into full swing now, the apples, peaches, and 2 plums (fruit, not trees) on their way to ripening, and the raspberries are flowering. Basil is crazy lush (first pesto already made), other herbs in full throat, and the kale is, perhaps unfortunately, unstoppable. Summer in Maine. Hard not to love. 

 

 

 

To the Forest

The local

 I have not been hiking/walking in the woods much since Jasper died. It's been 11 months. Every walk I take, even with John, just makes me miss him so much. He would trot along, go smell this or that, glance back at me occasionally if  he got ahead, wait for me at turns in the trail.

Protection

 

 

 

 

Today was an odd choice to walk out the door to our woods. It's been raining like crazy, and while we had a break in the downpours, it was still cloudy, a little threatening, and very humid. To be fair, it is only in the 60's so the humidity actually feels just fine.

And I, of course, am wearing the protection trifecta: Wellies, an umbrella, and a healthy dose of insect repellent. I just realized that Jasper would have made that a. . . Quadfecta? I always felt so protected walking with him, or any dog that we've had the good fortune to live with.

Beech Leaf Disease

I feel like I've lost my faith. . . the faith in the power of a long walk in the woods. I regained some of that today. These walks (though they have to be long-ish, and unhurried) provoke reflection and inspiration for me.

Beech Leaf Disease is heavy on my heart and mind. It's hard to get a good image of an entire tree that's affected (the background trees tend to drown out the image), but these leaves are infected. The small trees die quickly, the larger ones take a longer time. But all of the beeches in the forest will die unless some resistant genotype is found.

Deepest Darkest

But. Artistic inspiration. I've been using leaf imprints in some of my functional pottery these days. So I found some unaffected beech branches, and will "immortalize" the species in my pottery. Of course, pottery itself is somewhat ephemeral, so it really won't immortalize it.

These Maine woods have such a fecund, almost tropical, feel after this much rain. All of the seasonal streams are full, the ferns are large and wild, and it feels like I could be hiking in Deepest Darkest Peru. Ha. Thank you, Paddington.

Jungle!

While a lot of the small low flowering plants, like Trillium, Jack-in-the-Pulpit, violets, so many, are done for the year, there is some flowering going on. The daisies are coming up in the sunnier areas, and the black berries (so abundant in this ecosystem) are blooming.

 

Future food

The cockle burrs are getting ready. I need to pay attention to their blossoms. I usually only notice them when I have to dig their seed heads out of dog fur. 

 

 

 

 

Daisies blooming

I close with a thought about loop trails vs there-and-back trails. Many hikers disdain the latter type. The thinking is that they're already covered that ground, see what you can see there, and they don't want to back track.

My own experience is that things in the forest, or in the mountains, or anywhere really, look different when one approaches it from another angle. Sounds like a metaphor, and I guess it is. 

Cockleburr

The mess not taken

 

I didn't make a loop today because it includes a rough road along the power corridor that was full of mud puddles where motorized vehicles had made a mess of the trail. (Folks: Don't ride on it when it's muddy. . .) 

 

 

 

 

So I turned around to walk back home, the trail I had come in on. I was really struck by this. I passed along an open field area that led to the forest trail. Where the trail began, two hemlocks seemed to form an entryway to the trail. I hadn't noticed them when I had come from the other direction. They reminded me of the huge statues of kings marking the way into Gondor in the Fellowship of the Ring. If you're a Tolkien reader, that will make sense. If not, sorry.

Welcome to the land of your forefathers. And Mothers.