Rainy Fall Garden

It's raining today, and it feels like it's been raining forever - even though of course it hasn't, and it's really just one of the yucky thick mists that wets the ground and wets through your clothes but doesn't do much to water the plants. I haven't been out much in the garden. Last Friday, I did pull up the spent zinnias and marigolds and Hubby helped me collect seeds. I've got coffee cans full of them in the basement. We walked around the garden and talked about new plants to add next year. The praying mantises are still hanging around the porch, and I saw one today that was huge. He was clinging to the siding next to the garage and had to be at least four inches long.


The marigolds continue to bloom, and I've got a second flush of blooms from the gaillardia. The petunias recovered from the frost and continue their cheerful contributions. Most of the vegetables are gone, but I'm still finding strawberries! When Lowe's advertised them as "ever bearing" they sure weren't kidding!

Today is Halloween, and I know some of my readers don't celebrate this holiday, but I have ever since I was a kid. Catholics tend to love Halloween and tomorrow is All Saints Day for us, a Holy Day, followed by All Soul's Day, which is not a Holy Day but one our family took special note of. I guess this was sort of like a three-day holiday growing up. I went to Catholic school, so I always had off from school on November 1. I love everything about All Saints and All Souls Days - I love to remember the saints, all those interesting men and women who did extraordinary things. And I love All Soul's Day. I pull out the remembrance cards and I look through them, remembering each person who has passed on and saying prayers for them. I've heard that down in the deep south, in bayou country like Louisiana, they have picnics and spend All Souls Day in the cemetery clearing graves, laying flowers, and generally remembering folks. Mexicans celebrate November 2 as the day of the dead and give out skull shaped sugar candies. It's interesting how these three days permeate almost all cultures with some special significance.

For Halloween, we don't get trick or treaters out here in the rural area. When the farms are more than a quarter mile apart, you'd have to walk pretty far to get your candy! The children here go into town and trick or treat among the houses or along Main Street. They held the Halloween parade yesterday which was great timing - no rain - and today will be trick or treating, so I'll wait until another day to do our shopping.

Off to make some breakfast, do a few chores, then spend the day watching the Ghost Hunters marathon and doing some needlework. I am making counted cross stitch and quilted pillows for the bedroom. I have taken a sudden interest in quilting, which my older sister is already adept at. I have a gorgeous quilt she made for me as a wedding present hanging in my home, and I want to make a big one for our bed, but I'm starting small and trying to finish these pillows so I get the hang of it. I plan to make persimmon jam from all the fruits my neighbor and friend Patty gave me, and make leaf cutout cookies which we enjoy during the fall holidays. If I had Life Savers I could make stained glass leaves. You roll out butter cookie dough, cut out the big shape and use an identical cookie cutter to cut out a smaller shape inside the big cookie. You crush up Life Savers candy into a powder, and sprinkle it in the cut out, and it fuses and bakes into a beautiful stained glass effect. Really pretty and good for Christmas cookies, too!

Patty invited me to her farm to see her goat babies. Her herd had 54 babies in the last four days! My favorite goat, Ginger, had triplets. It's too muddy for me, but as soon as the sun shines I'll head over to her farm with my camera to share with you those cuddly babies. Goats may not sound sweet, but the babies are like little puppies.

Have a great weekend!

Hiking on the Applachian Trail

Hiking...one of our all time favorite activities! Yesterday was the first nice day in a long time. It was time to head out for our first dog-trekking adventure, an all day hike with Shadow. The weather was perfect. Cold when we started out, so cold I wished I'd worn gloves, but then in the low '60's during the day, bright and clear and sunny. We packed sandwiches and apples, water and dog cookies for Shadow, put her blanket in the back of the car and headed for the Blue Ridge Mountains to pick up the Appalachian Trail. We drove for about an hour and a half through the most glorious fall countryside imaginable. Bright crystal blue skies, orange, gold and crimson trees interspersed with the loblolly pines that are omnipresent in this part of Virginia, and rolling green fields dotted with placid cattle and sheep. We drove along the Blue Ridge Parkway's winding, twisting hills through tunnels of bright golden autumn foliage, parked the car, hooked up Shadow's leash and off we went.

The hike took us down a short slope, then up a trek over rocks, and around winding hillside. The hills were covered with autumn leaves. We saw not a single soul along the trail the entire day. At one point, the steep hillside turned abruptly into a cathedral of gold. We were on a narrow ledge trail with a steep drop off to our left and a steep slope to our right. Suddenly the trail opened up to a flat section with the tallest tulip tree forest I have ever seen. Great soaring black trunks of trees over 100 feet tall, crowned with golden foliage. The light filtered through, golden and bright, and we just stopped to drink it in for a long while. Soaring vistas greeted us at every turn. Through the trees we spied the Blue Ridge Mountains, hillsides painted as if by an impressionist's brush dabbed in crimson, rust, ochre and gold.

After hiking for two hours up and down steep slopes we crossed a road and came to a long suspension foot bridge over a gurgling deep river. The bridge swayed and creaked with every step. Shadow took one look at John, then immediately and steadily walked over the bridge, taking her cue from him and trusting him completely. It was such a profound moment for us both to realize that this shy, timid and frightened shelter dog now completely and lovingly trusted us. She would follow us to the ends of the earth if we asked her to. Throughout the entire day, she behaved as if she had always walked on trails. We kept her leashed, but she followed us over rocks and streams, by waterfalls and up steep hillsides, jumping over logs willingly.

We stopped hiking around 12:30 and sat on logs by the side of the trail, then turned to head back to the car. And now the difficult part lay before us. Our legs ached and we realized that the way back was almost entirely uphill, with a steep elevation change. We took it slowly and it took almost an hour more to get back then to head out. Shadow did well until about mile 8. My left leg had a Charley horse that wouldn't stop, and we were all aching and sore by the time mile 10 and something came up and our car was back in sight. But as I walked that last half mile, I thought of all those I loved who could no longer walk this trail...and I gave thanks to God for every ache and pain, for it meant I was fit enough to hike one of the rugged and difficult mountain trails.

Shadow lay down on the back seat of the car and snoozed for the ride home. We took the scenic route and drove along the Blue Ridge Parkway, then back through Lynchburg and into Appomattox where we picked up Chinese food for dinner. I was exhausted, so I missed my friend Eni's presentation at church last night, which I am sorry for...I had been looking forward to her talk to the women's prayer group, but I honestly couldn't even walk to the door, much less get into the car and stay awake to drive into Farmville, go to the lecture and head home.

What a glorious day. Shadow was tired last night, but this morning she was racing around again chasing her ball. As for the humans, we are tired and sore but happy.

I love to hike. I love to be out on trail. Give me a horse for a trail ride or a long hike any day. Give me fresh mountain air and God's beauty and the ones I love the most with me the whole day and I am happy. Although Pierre did climb into my backpack the night before when we took out our hiking gear, we did have to leave him home. Too bad cats can't hike!

I am back to work today, sore in body but clear of mind, looking forward to more hikes with our amazing German Shepherd, a rescued dog who has turned out to be the best dog we've ever owned.

Will the Boss Let Me Take Time Off?

It's funny when you're your own boss - sneaking out early on a Friday feels so much weirder than it did when you just sent your 'real' boss at the corporate job an email and took 'approved' time off.

Today I'm sneaking out after lunch to go visit my neighbor and friend Patty, pick up some free eggs from her free-range hens, and just gab for a while. The skies here are dark and heavy and it's cool - much cooler than the weather channel said it would be. Tomorrow they predict rain all day, so I'm going to do a little writing work, pack orders for our equine art company, and do some baking before we head out for our weekend getaway. We are taking Shadow with us and will hike part of the Appalachian Trail this weekend. This is her first official hike, and we are just hoping she's good. She's fine on trail and well behaved on the leash but bad around other dogs. She will probably enjoy the trip very much.

Next week I've also got to get all the seeds collected and start pulling up all the annuals that got blasted by the frost last week. I've left them, because sometimes they DO come back...but the zinnias really have had it, and the marigolds have all set seed, and I need to gather up the seeds now before I've got marigolds growing out of the lawn (which probably wouldn't look bad, but sure would make mowing around them a chore.)

The house is clean from top to bottom, the laundry folded and put away. Dinner's defrosted. All I need are the eggs from Patty to make the quiche to go along with the salmon and greens for dinner. I'm procrastinating on just about every single work-related project on my desk; there are articles to write, query letters to get out, two E Books in progress, a novel I've started writing, guest blog posts I've promised a few friends and three personal essays for contests all on the slate for the next couple of weeks. But I just can't get motivated. Pierre is standing behind the computer. He keeps sticking his big fat furry face around the screen, blocking my view. I think he's telling me it's time to shut down.

Sometimes, you just need to get offline for a while.

But sshh...don't tell my boss!

Awe

This morning I crept outside at 5:30 a.m. and sat on the front porch steps, my gaze resting near the top of the pines between the constellation of Orion to my left and the Pleides to my right. I was rewarded quickly. Light burst from the heavens - intertwining zigzags of light as not one, but two shooting stars bust into brightness just below Sirius, the dog star.

I was up to catch the Orionid Meteor Shower. I've seen a shooting star or two but never like this. The sky was crystal clear with no moon. The stars and constellations were bright and crystalline. Within an hour, I saw seven meteors total - two so bright they lit the sky like fireworks, arcing down to the ground. The first one that zigzagged was the oddest one. The other four were tiny streaks and blurs of brightness. One actually shot upwards. I know that I was just seeing a streak of light as the Earth passed through the comet's debris trail, and it just happened to be the angle of viewing, but it was amazing just the same.

According to NASA's website, the Orionids come every October. They're the debris from Halley's comet that passed our way in 1986.

Sitting with my eyes raised to heaven in the predawn cold, with Shadow's warm furry body pressed to my side and a cup of steaming coffee in my hands, I felt what only could be described as tremendous awe...awe looking up into the pre dawn sky, as meteors streaked through the atmosphere at 90,000 miles an hour.

Where had they been? Where have they come from? How old were they? If they could see, what had they seen, and what stories could they tell?

I know the meaning of the word "awe" now.

Over 400 Spring Bulbs to Plant

That's not a typo. We bought 430 spring bulbs to plant around Seven Oaks.

Many years ago, I got a book out of the library filled with landscaping ideas. One glossy color photo captured our attention. It showed an orchard of apple trees. Planted among the floweirng apples trees were daffodils, grape hyacinth, crocus...a living carpet of yellow, purple, white, buzzing with bees while the dainty pink apple blossoms swayed above.



We were absolutely captivated by that image, and we wanted to recreate it when we finally could. Now's our chance...

Last year, I planted just about a dozen King Alfred bulbs in the orchard. A few came up. This photo is from last year (the one above is from Morguefile - but what we aspire to!)



According to the book, the spring flowers flourish in the orchard. Sunlight nurtures them until the trees leaf out, and by the time the grass grows high enough to need mowing, the bulbs are finished for the year.

So that is what was are doing here.

We bought 100 King Alfred Daffodils, and 100 of a professional landscaping mix for naturalizing. We bought 100 crocus and another 100 grape hyacinths.

And the remaining 30?

I love tulips. I can't be without them. Fifteen mixed pastel tulips will be planted near the deck, alongside 15 mixed color hyacinths for their heavenly smell.

The deer love to graze in our orchard, and ever night, the mama deer with the crooked leg and her two almost-grown fawns graze among the apple trees. We picked the daffodils for the wide open areas for the most important reason: they're deer resistant!

Now on to planting them....I wonder how long that's going to take?!

So what does 400+ bulbs look like? Like this!

Praying Mantis

Since noticing the cocoons on the Butterfly Bushes this past year and watching hundreds of tiny green praying mantises move throughout the butterfly garden, I've been fascinated by them. We seem to have more here in Virginia than we did in New York, although living so far out into the woods and away from the tons of chemicals dumped on lawns by our suburban neighbors probably means just more mantises in general and nothing special related to geography or climate.

Last night as I ran Shadow out for her walk, I spied several praying mantis up on the front porch railing. They were all about the same size, and a mottled brown and black with some gray thrown in.

According to my casual research, their coloration is likely due to camouflage. Which makes sense if they've been living on my front porch. I've watched them pounce on bugs on the porch and I even rescued one from a spider web. My good deed for the day, I suppose.

Here's what I learned about praying mantis:

• the name "mantis" is from the Greek "mantid" meaning "prophet" or "fortune teller"
• the name "praying" is often misspelled "preying". They are called praying mantis because their front legs are folded, as if in prayer. But they also prey on other insects, hence the mispelling
• they can catch insects - but have been recorded catching hummingbirds (!), mice, and even lizards.
• they are very stimulated by movement, and have been observed in the laboratory to watch closely the movements of the scientists studying them, following them around the lab (double !! - it's like a science fiction movie)

According to my research, a good supply of praying mantises means that my organic gardening techniques must be working. Not only can the mantis thrive, but by association, their food chain must also be thriving.

I'll keep counting how many mantis I see as this cold weather continues. Some continue to shelter on the front porch. I have to be careful where I put my hand, as they hide under the rails. As long as I keep Pierre away from them, all will be well, and they can do whatever it is they do at this time of year.

And I'll keep my eye open for more cocoons in the flower garden!

King Pierre

My life is ruled by a 20 pound cat born in a lawn mower repair shop in Farmville.

He's a purring maniac in tiger-striped clothing.

Every night, we put all his toys in a basket. Any every morning, his four stuffed chickens are upstairs in the bedroom and on his blanket. Some were tucked in last night. It's like they're action figures and he's got an intricate game going on involving a chicken farm.



He has a really ugly stuffed toy we call his "baby". His first night here, toy clutched tightly between his teeth, he used his needle-sharp baby claws to scale the side of the bed as if it were Mount Everest, depositing the toy on the bed. It's his favorite. The little buggy orange glass eyes on the furry black toy scared the heck out of me this morning as they glared up at my from a corner of the dining room. This picture is 8 week old Pierre with the toy in his mouth. Can you see the orange eye of that thing glaring at you? No wonder I jumped a mile.


His favorite perch is on the printer in my office, where he peers over my shoulder as if reading what I type. "No, wait - that's not right. My name isn't Pierre. It's KING Pierre."




That's what I get for adopting a cat!

When Chores are Joys

The rain storm predicted for the weekend fizzled out, with the clouds dumping all their rain somewhere over the Blue Ridge before heading here just to make the day gloomy. The garden sure needs the rain. I'm hoping that the next round of storms won't give up before crossing those mountains this Wednesday!

But I put the day to good use. My neighbor and friend, Patty over at Shady Acres Farm in Prospect, gave me several big bags of pears from her trees. They are Kieffer pears, an old-fashioned variety that the Arbor Day Society website tells me are very resistant to fire blight and other diseases and great for the south. Now I'm eying the orchard and wondering if I should have planted Kieffers instead of Bartletts. The taste to me is a cross between a good apple and a pear, with the flesh firm and crisp like an apple even when they're ripe.

I got out Hubby's grandmother's canning pot and my new Ball jars and canning equipment set and I was off and running! I'm no longer nervous about canning and Patty emailed me a recipe that was super easy. I just peeled, cored and sliced up the pears, poured a sweet syrup over them, and then hot water bath-canner for 20 minutes.

But I did feel adventurous! The reddish looking jars are pear butter. I got out my Ball Preserving the Harvest cookbook and found a recipe for peach butter that could be adapted to pears. It took longer than I expected and made a mess in the kitchen, but when I tasted it - wow! I like peach, pear and apple butter, but this one was just scrumptious. Orange juice, lemon juice and nutmeg gave it layers of flavor that was gorgeous. The red color from the orange juice and nutmeg makes it glow like rubies in the jars. I cleaned some of grandma's ancient Ball jars, the kind with the weird wire closure, in the hopes that I had some left over and could put it in there and refrigerate it and enjoy it this week, but I had just enough for the last two ball jars. I've got boxes of the weird jars from his great grandmother and grandmother and we don't want to use them for canning - some have new seals, but they are so, so old I don't want to chance it. I keep hoping for a craft project or something to use them up. I did take a few pretty ones to use to put my dried Calendula and lavender blossoms in them; nothing like storing herbs and having them so pretty you put them out on a shelf to admire!

What a great feeling to put all those jars of pears and the pear butter into the pantry next to the peppers. I rearranged the contents of the freezer too, and it gave me a real feeling of accomplishment to see bags and bags of sweet corn, peppers, green beans, chard, spinach and more vegetables that I froze over the summer.

The pear butter managed to splatter a lot around the kitchen, so the floor was sticky. I had to vacuum the dog hair up from around the house before the hair balls attacked, so I next attended the kitchen. I really dislike cleaning. I always joke that if we win the lottery, the first thing I am going to do is hire a maid whose sole job will be to clean my house every day. I love a sparkling clean house, top to bottom, with everything neatly put away but I sure don't like to clean!

As I scrubbed the kitchen down yesterday though, I had to admit; there's something really warm and fuzzy feeling about doing household chores. The canning process really makes me feel like I've accomplished something. And getting the stove gleaming made me feel good, too.

I never considered myself a domestic person and I'm still not. On Friday, my neighbor and friend Helen and her daughters Meredith and Michelle and I met up for lunch. They are the epitome of domesticity! Helen just radiates peace and she and her daughters love to cook and sew and do all that sort of stuff. They are all so happy to do the "girl stuff". It seems natural to them. I sometimes share that I never really learned to do any of it; but the truth is, even if my mom had been well, and I'd been surrounded by women cooking, sewing and enjoying all of that, I'm not sure how much I would have loved it. My Barbie dolls carried briefcases and were going to be president of the world; they were CEO's, not mothers, and if they were mothers, they had maids. Sigh. I think I was made a wee bit differently than most people....

Today's photo is my canning project from Saturday. And yes, those watermelons are from the garden - we brought in the last of them a while ago, but can't eat them fast enough! I'll probably be outside later today cleaning up more in the vegetable garden after church.

Enjoy your day!

Seed Saving

One of my favorite fall garden tasks is saving seeds. This week's "Organic Gardening with Jeanne" column for RawPeople is all about seed saving.

I learned how to save seeds as a little girl. Our next door neighbor, Mr. Hoffman, was a retired chemistry teacher from Sewanahaka High School. He had grown up near Rottkamp's farm in Elmont (now completely paved over and very New York City-like, but when Mr. Hoffman was a boy it was a big farm).

Mr. Hoffman was like an adopted grandfather to me, and he didn't mind me tagging along in the garden. He'd built his house in Floral Park and was one of the first on the block, so when he bought the land he bought a lot and a half - and he used the half a lot to create a mini farm. When I'd give people my address in Floral Park, they'd frown a bit and then say, "Oh, next to the farm with the corn stalks?" and they'd know exactly where I lived. (After he moved away, the new neighbors used the half a lot to build a garage and expand their house; I understood, but it was hard to see a driveway and slick new garage on that old bit of farm.)

Mr. Hoffman taught me to collect pansy seeds. He had a permanent patch of pansies just outside of his back door. He taught me how to tell when the seeds were dry enough, how to pry open the pod and extract the pepper-sized seed grains.

Today, I love collecting seeds. I collect buckets of marigold seeds. The marigolds in our garden now are all a mixed lot, descended from seeds my father in law planted in his garden in Huntington. Someone posted a comment on this blog asking what variety they are, and at this point I have no idea - they've bred and interbred, midgets and big tall ones, until we have this robust, tough as iron, orange-red type that just reseeds and thrives.

I collect zinnia seeds, sunflower seeds, morning glory, Echinacea and helopsis. I tried collecting Crepe myrtle last year, but somehow they didn't come up, although the Crepe myrtles did reseed in the same bed and now I have a delightful little plant coming up.

Before the rain comes this weekend, I'll start collecting some seeds today.

If you've never collected seeds, it is easy, depending on the plant - and very satisfying to see what you collected in the fall come back in the spring. To me, it gives continuity to the garden, reminding me of the cycles of the seasons.