Archive for the ‘growing and gathering’ Category
harvesting herbs
The colder nights have arrived and I have decided it is time to harvest my herbs.
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I have a lot of parsley in my deck garden. All summer, I have snacked every day on the leaves, loving the taste, the fresh air feeling that is the result.
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I enjoyed the harvest as well. With scissors, I cut the parsley leaves just below the branching of stems.
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I checked each set of leaves for bugs but the parsley is remarkably bug-free.
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I harvested into my colander, washed the leaves and set them to air-dry. Once the leaves are dry, I will load them into my drier, a Salton VitaPro. In a drying time of about three hours, I will have enough parsley for winter cooking.
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I have followed a similar process with my basil. Everything around me smells really good!!
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Hope you are enjoying your own produce if you are lucky enough to have a garden.
Enjoy your day.
Stay safe.
Do. Not. Get. Covid. Fatigue!
All my best,
Jane
abandoned gardens: rhubarb gone to seed
When a vegetable garden is abandoned, not much will remain in a couple of years. Most of the plants are annuals and so will vanish; even though some may go to seed, most plants cannot compete with native vegetation. Perennial vegetable garden plants will struggle for a while, but few will survive. The exception is rhubarb.
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Rhubarb (Rheum spp.) is known to most of us as a component of the garden. The stalks are bitter, but cooked with sugar, the tart taste is a treat. My mom used to cook rhubarb with strawberry jello, if not real strawberries, to make a dessert. Rhubarb was grown in Europe both for food and for medicinal purposes. Rhubarb leaves are poisonous and one source says this contributes to the success of rhubarb since it is not likely to be eaten by rabbits, deer and other garden marauders.
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When rhubarb is used in a garden, the flowers are pulled and discarded, to allow harvesting of the stems for as long as possible. When a garden is abandoned, no one pulls the flower stalks and the flowers stand high above the plant to say, “once there was a garden here.”
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old rhubarb plants at Dorn Ridge
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We have found rhubarb growing at abandoned house sites on Dugan Road west of Woodstock and at Dorn Ridge, near Burtt’s Corner.
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rhubarb plants on the Dugan Road near Woodstock
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Rhubarb, originally prized for its medicinal uses, is always welcome when it sprouts in early spring. In days past, it meant the end of a long winter and a fresh source of nutrients and vitamin C. To me, it is a tribute to the gardeners who have worked hard to cultivate a garden plot and make life more sustainable.
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This work was made possible by a Creations Grant from artsnb!
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All my best,
Jane
Small, small garden
Arthritis means my days of the big garden are over. But I can still enjoy digging in the earth, planting seeds, pulling weeds and harvesting, just on a smaller scale.
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On our deck are two Veg Trugs (Lee Valley Tools used to sell them) and one bag of soil, slit open and supported on a metal frame. In the ‘gardens’ I have two snow pea plants, three yellow wax bean plants, three parsley plants and one cucumber plant.
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Each day for the last month, I sit on the deck and nibble on my ‘harvest for the day.’ Sometimes it’s one bean pod and a snow pea pod, sometimes two beans, sometimes a cucumber sandwich. Seems small, but I think I enjoy these little sessions more than the buckets of produce I once harvested from my garden.
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Tea berries
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Teaberry
Gaultheria procumbens
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leaves shiny, thick
capsules waxy, red
aromatic oil
methyl salicylate
mint and wintergreen
tea soothing, blood thinning
creeping wintergreen
spice berry, drunkards
staggering over
the forest floor
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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All my best
Jane
Raspberries
It’s a great year for berries. Our blueberry bushes are loaded with the biggest, sweetest berries I have ever tasted. The raspberries are full and sweet. The blackberries are still mostly unripe but the canes are heavy with future berries.
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raspberry ramble
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every berry
a sweet cup
detached
from its cosy seat
deep in brambles
juice pressed
between teeth
seeds and briars
handfuls of sun
rain clouds
warm winds
gravel soil
eager fingers
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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All my best
Jane
blackberries
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blackberries
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floricanes bend
with August weight
shape an archway
show the path
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through brambles
to lake
pergola unfastens
gate, entices
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pickers
into wicked thorns
sweet indigo
temptation
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primocanes snag
hems of gloves
ankles of socks
handles of baskets
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angry scratch
for every berry
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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Hope you are enjoying this blackberry summer.
All my best,
Jane
Pearly everlasting
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Pearly Everlasting
Anaphalis margaritacea L.
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Pearly Everlasting
sign of summer’s passing
yet – immortelle
picked by the road
by the armload
hung from rafters
children’s laughter
runs beneath
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downy leaf, woolly stem
white diadem
perfectly matched flowers
thatched in gold
dry and old
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Linnaeus named
for Marguarite
memory sweet
paper petals keep
pale perfume
summer grace
in a winter room
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Published as: ‘Pearly Everlasting’, The Antingonish Review 92, 1993 and at niche poetry and prose, August 20, 2012 here
Copyright Jane Tims 2012
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All my best,
Jane
haws and sharps
As we trim our roads at our cabin, we sometimes get into arguments over what shrubs should stay and what should go. Most decisions are easy: mountain birch and willow are numerous on the property and will grow back; oak and maple are always kept because of their beauty and relative scarcity; alders disappear without the slightest consideration. However, whether to keep the hawthorn (Cretaegus) or let it grow, always takes some wrangling.
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The Hawthorn is a woody shrub or bush with sharp thorns, growing in thickets and along rivers, lakes and coastal areas. Hawthorn is also called Red Haw. The red, fleshy fruit is used to make tea, jelly or jam.
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I think the shrub should be kept just for its beauty. Who could resist those bright red haws?
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My husband wants it gone. The thorns are long and sharp enough to pierce an ATV tire or scratch a truck.
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Who wins the argument? Beauty always prevails. Even those thorns have their own, terrible, loveliness.
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risk
Hawthorn (Cretaegus spp.)
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each fall, the hawthorn bleeds
with berries, impales
with thorns
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berries are difficult to gather
easier to flood, with red
imagination
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to strip the bush of every drop
Cretaegus draws
so choose –
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ignore the feast, or risk
a bleed to pick a berry
collude with birds
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see how waxwings hover
twig to twig, manoeuvre
in the thorns
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haws, of course, not wasted –
what red the thrushes leave
will rot
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nourish another season
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poem from within easy reach (Chapel Street Editions, 2016) –
one poem of many to celebrate the edible wild …
to order a copy of the book, contact Chapel Street Editions
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All my best,
Jane
have grape vines, will not prune
I have planted grape vines in quite a few places on our properties over the years.
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At our cabin, one vine survives, climbing an inch or two each year on an arbor we built. The cabin lot was supposed to be great for growing grapes — a sunny slope, the temperature-modifying lake and breezes to discourage insects.
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However, the vines have not been thriving. This year for the first time, I have a scrawny bunch of grapes.
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The vines at home in our garden do thrive, although the light is scarce. Each year I have a few small bunches of grapes.
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my grapes, wandering about in the birch tree
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The vine at the back of the house is amazing. Without pruning, it has climbed high into the maple and fir trees. But an unpruned apple tree keeps the light low. Pruning, that must be the key!
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Competition
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Grape vines climb
high into maple.
Feign kudzu.
Burden the balsam,
bend branches.
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Grape leaves flare,
arrange themselves, nip
every ray.
Mosses and bracken
starved for light.
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But apple
demands its revenge.
Sends shadows
to starve chlorophyll.
Bullies grape.
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Teases leaves
with flecks of half-light.
Grapevine sets
no fruit this season.
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Not a single grape.
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All my best!
Jane
Blackberry picking
On Monday we drove from our cabin down to the lake (on our newly-mowed road) and picked a bowl of wild blackberries. The brambles were brutal and we came away with several scratches between us. But we picked berries to the tremolo of the loon on the lake and will enjoy a ‘blackberry buckle’ later this week. Blackberry buckle is made by adding sugar and water to the berries and covering with spoonfuls of dumpling mix. The dumplings cook in the steam of the simmering berries.
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All my best,
Jane
nichepoetryandprose 