Late summer and the raspberries are. . .

 

Spectacular. This is year 3 for my raspberries, and Joan J is a wonder. These little jewels make diamonds look pedestrian, don't they? Somehow, I don't think that "Raspberries are a girl's best friend" will be a hit, though.

Several things about this mostly cool wet summer have surprised me. Some haven't. The very poor tomato season wasn't surprising. I canned 3 quarts today, and don't think I'll have any more from my little patch, though the cherry tomatoes are still going gangbusters. The green beans (Blue Lake) continue to hold forth. That's a big surprise given previous years' behavior. We're actually getting increasing numbers of beans now, whereas last year I had pulled them all out by now.

Likewise, the later cultivars of blueberries continue to deliver in small amounts. This is ok, though. I simply add them to the fruit I have in the freezer, and will pull them out once the winter is here for jam or pie. It's amazing how this small amount 3 times/week add up!

I haven't had any time for the studio, which makes me very sad. I have several pieces that need to be waxed and glazed, but need to have a block of time for that. I just haven't had it.

Hiking must go on, of course, because it's Jasper's time to shine. It also forces me to do something other than harvest and preserve. Harvest and Preserve. Harvest and preserve. My lovely consort and spouse caught these images of some really amazing mushrooms. The 3rd Kingdom. The image to the left isn't complete clear, until you see the image below, which focuses on just one of these black trumpet mushrooms. I have no idea if that's the proper name for them. Are they cool or what?

Then there are these cool orange guys. Maine always seems to have a plethora of mushrooms during the not-snow season, but this year's wetter seasons really brought them out.

On the hiking front, Jasper and I made it down to the rock on Messalonskee the other day, and I thought I'd record the view. What you can't see in this image is the loon that went paddling by in front of me. Small gifts.

The last bit is about a new resident here at the Highland House. I finally got this Rose of Sharon planted. I had a good hand wringing session over it, because I didn't know if my back would tolerate the small retaining wall, and much bigger amount of soil, compost and peat moss that I wanted to incorporate into the planting hole. As usual, it was easier to Just Do It than it was to contemplate/worry about the possible consequences. Two days later my back is fine, I'm a little muscle sore, and life will continue on as before.

Putting by. . .

 

I have often thought that I must have starved in a previous life, because not only am I focused on saving our garden food for later, but I also go to almost ridiculous lengths to not waste anything. Anything.

However, if we really did have previous lives, then there's a good chance that most of us starved at one time or another, so I'm hardly unique if that's the case. It is a marvel of our time. . .our civilization. . .that so many of us don't have to spend every waking hour either getting food, or figuring out how to feed ourselves through the winter. 

When I was writing grant proposals for our sustainable agriculture work, I opened with a sentence something like "Civilization is only possible once a sustainable food source is secured." [Actually, I think I was more articulate than that back then, but you get the idea. . . ]

So. The harvest goes on. Tomorrow, more peaches, tomatoes (which are looking very ragged indeed), raspberries, green beans, zucchini, eggplant, and a dribbling of blueberries. Since everything takes me longer, I'm a little anxious about getting all of this food in shape to can, freeze, dry or. . .yes. . . EAT. We're a little overwhelmed on that last one right now. Two old codgers can only eat so much, even when it's this good. . .

On other fronts, I saw this mushroom while Jasper was exercising me the other day, and it struck me that I think I subconsciously copied it in a couple of new porcelain pieces I'm working on.

It's funny how these images go into your head, and come out altered, but still recognizable. I think that's why artists often feel they're being copied. Images go in, and come out slightly (or very) differently than the original, but they are still recognizable.

This mug is still in the greenware stage, so it will have to survive 2 firings and me glazing it before it will be a useful object. The porcelain is first thrown, handle made and attached, and then a technique called slip-trailing applied, using a steady hand, piece held tentatively on a piece of foam, dots of thinned down clay applied through a squeeze bottle. And all the while hoping not to break the tender thing.

Below is a case in point. I threw this lovely little bowl, embellished it with the applique leaves, and then lifted it to set it aside in a safe place, putting my thumb through the dried clay. I have done this particular stupid thing before, so you'd think I would learn. But in my absent minded get-it-to-a-safer-place state, I applied a little too much pressure to the rim. 

 

This fragility at the greenware stage is so different from my more extensive experience in working with metals and vitreous enamel. I need to constantly remind myself that anything I make can be broken at any stage (though this earliest stage is the most vulnerable). 

But clay things break when dropped. A mug lip that has been knocked against the faucet may crack at that point sometime later. Clay only allows for so much "preciousness". It is a utilitarian medium that demands a little respect. Even the well-named stoneware is breakable, though not so easily as porcelain. Drop a stoneware bowl on a tile floor, though, and it's history.

Full Swing

 

Harvest 14 August 2024 (except bananas)

So. This morning's harvest (minus the bananas, but plus some blueberries that went right into the freezer) is shown here. Yes! The peaches are coming in. The evidence of my inadequate peach thinning is clear from the small peach size, but they are tasty, and will be a nice size for canning. 

Notice that the fall-bearing raspberries are just beginning. My favorite. And the sauce in the bowl is my beloved Roasted Cherry Tomato Sauce. The first batch.

The tomato crop is not promising, unfortunately. Late blight (I think) has come early, and the visible crop is light, especially on the Early Girls. My lovely consort and spouse reminds me that we still have a couple of months of harvest to go, so I'm hoping that this prediction will prove wrong. After all, it is the things you worry about that don't come about, while it's the things you never thought of that bite you in the butt. It can turn on a dime.

Great Pond from the top of French Mountain

On other positive topics, the weather has been breathtaking. Jasper and I made the drive to French Mountain, and not only was it cool and bright, but the deer flies have receded. Likely temporary, but let us enjoy it while we can.

Tree, sun and hawk

I keep meaning to bring a thermos of tea and some crumpets and dog biscuits so we can take a few minutes at the top to enjoy the view. Somehow I never remember to do that, though. I will endeavor to do better.

Morning hike=happiness

I'll try to be more mindful. And will sign off after this short entry because I'm tired and it's summer, and the livin' is easy.

 

Embellishments

There's no escaping it. The weather has been dreadful. Mostly cloudy, with 95% relative humidity, and temperatures high enough to multiply the effect of the overall wetness. My cotton dresses feel damp after working in the garden, or even walking Jasper, and when we eat lunch outside my fingers are sticky. They no longer work to swipe the electronic devices. Ha. They get stuck on the screen. Well, leave the devices inside, I guess.

So. I am determined, in spite of the above rant, to take what loveliness I can from this period. This vase, inspired by Life in the Studio by Frances Palmer, has me giddy with it's lovely presentation. I have tended toward bud vases in the past. . .tall thin ones that are wider at the bottom, narrower at the top. I could not have predicted how well the garden's current offerings would do in this reverse format. I included some very long lemon grass leaves (because they needed removing. . .they were crowding out the other herbs, and keeping the already wet soil wetter. . .) and you may notice the viburnum berries as well. I love the process of gathering these treasures as much as I enjoy looking at the product. I think there may be a series of these vases in the offing.

For now, though, I'm putting together some pieces that will likely sell well for my various non-profits. This Rhubarb Leaf platter is one of them. It's the largest piece I can fit into my kiln. . .about 16" long. The rhubarb leaf may be poisonous, but she makes a wicked impression on clay. We all have our pluses and minuses. And humans, it turns out, are great poisoners as well. Small sigh.

Another leaf inspired piece, this is a large Striped Maple leaf dish. It's not that large, though. . . only about 6" across, so it doesn't challenge my kiln with its size.

Finally, a bit of news. I launched my new website a couple of days ago. Let me know if you see any mistakes. I've never used WIX before, and it is not the most intuitive of platforms. 

http://www.LouisesLeapStudios.com