yellow on yellow

No moths were injured during this photo shoot. No yellow paint was applied. He came that way. Really! Think about it like this: if you were this colour and saw a house this colour, wouldn't you set up residence there? It would be a serendipitous sign I don't know that I could resist. A 'message from God'. . . .

OK. Look. If I had painted this guy, would I have been able to get him the same colour all the way around? Including getting him to hold still long enough to daube on the camouflage spots and get full coverage around the legs and antennae? He'd be a dead bug by then, and this guy is clearly not. See? That's a vertical wall he's clinging to, not a horizontal surface.

Now what sort of bug he is, is anybody's guess. I'm just glad he moved in. Glad, so long as he stays outside! No moths allowed in, to ravage wool socks and sweaters. And that is final. I don't care what colour you are.

Speaking of colour, that's really more of a saffron now, wouldn't you say? Yellow is so generic. . . .

P.S. - thanks to alert reader Tiffany, we now know this is a Crocus Geometer. Thanks to the MagickCanoe, we learn that there are Crocus Geometers and FALSE Crocus Geometers. Who knew?!

night sky

There is the unmistakable hint of fall in the air. At the same time, a very late firefly has been lighting up in the pasture the last two evenings. I love this time of year.

the melon

You will have noted the use of the singular.

There was one. It was smaller than it appears in this picture. I say this in the interest of full disclosure, but I do not care to give you a picture proving the fact.

I left it on the vine a good long time, hoping it would get bigger. It did not. I finally harvested it when I could smell it when I strolled past. It was starting to attract the attention of small, boring insects as well, who had just started an attack on the dirt-side of the rind. . . . No matter, though; they didn't get far.

The melon was good, if a bit over-ripe already. And small. I know I mentioned small.

Oh well! I've saved the seeds and will try again next year. I think I'll put them over where the cucumbers grew so extravagantly this year!

[sigh. . . .] I had such high hopes when I first wrote about the melons [heh! melons. . . .] back in May. . . .

fall slaw

I harvested the first red cabbage. After the lessons learned from eggplants and cucumbers, I began to worry that leaving the cabbage in the ground all summer might not result in a larger head of cabbage, it might just result in a tougher head of cabbage! My fears were not ill-founded. I was not able to cut the cabbage off its cabbage stalk with my garden shears, but had to pull the whole thing out of the ground. It reminded me of the plant in Little Shop of Horrors. You see the resemblance, I'm sure!

It also reminded me of certain old-fashioned so-called cabbage roses. I've always loved that rose form.

Anyway, one cabbage was out of the ground, tattered outside leaves removed and the stalk sawed off with a big, serrated knife. The moment of truth was at hand. I picked up my sharpest chef knife and prepared to cut the cabbage head in half. My first impression was of a wonderful peppery aroma. I've never smelled anything quite that strong or lovely from a cabbage I've bought in a store. I only hoped that it was not because the cabbage was past-eating; over-ripe! My second impression was of delight in the precise form on the inside. I would love a stamped impression of this, on paper. Actually, I think I've seen a wonderful woodcut of something similar, along the lines of Albrecht Dürer.

I chopped and tasted. The cabbage is not the tenderest I've ever tasted, but it had a wonderful flavor. When combined with a mustard ginger dressing, it was delicious! This, by the way, is one of the most flavorful slaw dressings I've ever tasted. You can combine the cabbage with grated carrot and/or granny smith apples and it is even better. It had a lovely taste of Fall - and the promise of cool weather and harvest. . . .

Here's the recipe for Fall Slaw:

1/4 cup vinegar (red wine or cider)
1/4 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons grated ginger root
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard (if you also have coarse whole-grain mustard, do half regular Dijon and half whole-grain)
2 teaspoons mayo
2 teaspoons soy sauce
1 teaspoon Worcstershire sauce
1 teaspoon celery seed
freshly ground pepper

Whisk it all together, and then whisk in just a bit of good olive oil at the very end (2 to 3 tablespoons, say). Pour the oil in slowly as you whisk, so it will emulsify. Stir in the slaw. It's even better the next day.

the malevolent hummingbug

I was thrilled the other day to see what appeared to be a miniature hummingbird buzzing the violas that were still braving this summer's intense heat. Upon closer examination, he appeared to have antennae and legs. A hummingbug? Cool!

On the other side of the garden, I've started having to police the tomato plants for enormous caterpillars which - overnight - can defoliate the entire top of the plant. I hate those things! They hold on to the plant when you try to pull them off, spit green juice at you, and have a thorn-type horn at one end which I'm sure they would deploy if I didn't wear my garden gloves!

The detection and destruction of these invaders caused some domestic discord here at the greenwood. I was happy to detect them, not so happy to squash them. I'm squeamish that way. Actually, I should say that I was squeamish that way. . . . The king had made his refusal to garden well-known, upfront, so I can't really blame him for refusing to help me fight disgusting caterpillars in the garden. I did rather think that he would take pity on my girly sensibilities and dispatch the creatures for me, once captured.

Apparently not.

Feeling very sorry for myself, with the first one I went out, routed the worm, threw him on the compost heap, covered him with a leaf and bisected him with my trowel! No sweat; no muss; no gory details. I then thought about how our society insulates us from most bad stuff to the point where we either deny that bad stuff exists entirely, or run screaming from the room in horror when we can not ignore it. Farmers have no such luxury. A caterpillar chomping on a tomato plant can wreak havoc in a half hour. If you wish eventually to eat your produce, spraying deadly chemicals on it is probably not the answer. Killing is.

I never really thought I'd come to the point of saying that killing is the answer to anything. This, in spite of the ancient wisdom that there is a time for everything. . . . (and no, having planted even 20 tomato plants does not really qualify me as a "farmer", but I am learning some farmer lessons, I like to think.)

Anyway, I dispatch anywhere from one to six of these things a day now. They can be hard to spot, sometimes, but you develop a knack for seeing them after a while.

Imagine my horror when, instead of the usual green goblin, I got a green guy covered by white egg sacks?!!! Oh! My! Blech!!!! YUCK!!!! I did NOT want egg sacks in the compost heap. I substituted suffocation by doggie-do bag for trowel bisection. That night, I did some research. What ARE these creatures who have invaded my garden?!

I learned two things. First, the tomato hornworm grows up to be a moth - no surprise there - but it's the "hawk", "Sphinx" or "hummingbird" moth. The hummingbug!!!

Second, if you see the hornworms with the white protrusions on them, you are not supposed to kill them. Yes, that's correct, folks. Don't kill them because those aren't hornworm eggs on them, they're wasp eggs! Yay! And the wasps will kill the hornworms! Yay!! So let's have more wasps!!!

. . . like we need more wasps. . . .

Actually, it's a different kind of wasp they're talking about and I have resumed placing the parasitized hornworms in the compost pile. Good luck to those braconid wasps!

And that hummingbug had better stay out of my sight.

By the way, I think that the first full-grown, vine-ripened tomato will come off the vine this evening. It's been a long time - and 3 jumbo containers of cayenne pepper - coming.

last year/this year

Last year, on July 14, we ate our first full-sized tomato. This year, on July 14, the deer pulled all our still ripening full-sized tomatoes off the tomato plants.

What a difference a year makes.

Last year, first thing in August, it was all about the tomato. This year, it's cucumbers. Here's the harvest from yesterday. Today, I finally picked the overlooked ones. Who knew they'd be so pretty and orangey-yellow? I'm definitely saving seeds for next year. They're drying as we speak. What I did discover is that yellow cucumbers are unbelievably bitter. The same holds true for over-ripe eggplants, I now learn. Now they tell me! Here I've been waiting for the eggplants to get nice and ripe. . . .

The white ones turn yellow. . . . which I am told means they'll be bitter. [I don't eat them myself, so I wouldn't know!] Here's what I picked this morning. Yep. Two yellow eggplants. And one white one. A purple one past its prime, and another couple small purple ones that should be delicious!

Postscript: the small purple ones were apparently NOT delicious. They were bitter. So were the yellow ones. AND the white one. The purple one 'past its prime' was not bitter, but largely tasteless and tough. Eggplant FAIL. Although they are pretty, growing in the garden. . . .

basil, basil everywhere

Maybe there is such a thing as too much basil. Here's what I brought in yesterday. Here's what I cut today, along with several carrots the deer have ignored. That's a lot of basil, and there's more where this came from! Not to mention out back, in the water garden. Last year, it produced a ton of basil.

This year, there's Genovese basil (the standard), African blue basil, Box globe basil and cinnamon basil. All of which is trying very hard to flower and go to seed. With nary a tomato in sight.

Sigh. . . .

Well then, next up: pesto! If we don't have tomatoes to do caprese we'll have to do pasta with pesto. So there! I think I have all the ingredients on hand.

But first, wash, dry and strip basil leaves. From yesterday's harvest, I got 2 gallon ziplock bags of leaves, and what look like tobacco stains on my fingers. Oh, and a headache and a backache. . . . I'm not exactly looking forward to smelling basil for another 3 or 4 hours today, or stripping off the teeny-tiny box basil leaves. But I suspect I'll be pleased in the middle of the winter when we can pull out a basil-ly green bag of frozen summer! (at least that's what I'm telling myself for motivation now).

3x=charm?

I fell in love with these socks the first time I saw them.

I've been wanting to cast on to knit them ever since! The problem was finding a nice shade of green yarn. Sock yarn these days is all variegated or hand-painted it seems, at least in the shops. If you do find a single coloured sock yarn, it is either acrylic or a poisonous shade. What gives? I had some cotton yarn in a nice green, but it proved to be a little too thick for socks, and trying to knit it on smaller needles ended up with me constantly battling split yarn. No fun! Then, I found 'mood indigo' variegated cotton/bamboo yarn at the Sea Needles shop in Bethany Beach. The owner there told me they rarely stocked solid colour sock yarns because it simply didn't sell. . . . Sheesh! In future I'll have to order sock yarn online, I guess. This colour looks nice with jeans, but also has black in it, which I wear a good deal more often. Anyway, I cast these socks on 3 different times in 2 different yarns and 3 different gauges before the 'three times is a charm' kicked in. One sock is finally done now. It's comfy. I'm still not crazy about these socks in variegated yarn; it disguises the really cool ribbing details. Look closely, past the wild colour flamboyance. I really need to make these in a solid colour.

First, though, I have to knit another sock to go with this one! I've just cast on for sock number 2.

the cucumber remedy: a vichyssoise!

What to do with a surplus of cucumbers? A friend suggested a cold cucumber soup [?!] and gave a general idea of the recipe. I'd never heard of it. It sounded wierd! But the more I thought of it - in 100 degree plus temperatures - the better it sounded.

This is a somewhat different version I ended up coming up with, which was delicious! Here's the recipe: Cucumber garlic chive vichyssoise

Really, I can't tell you how good this is. Even the king - who initially was not inclined to be a fan - enjoyed it. In fact, I am instructed that the soup is to be preferred over what was to be my next project: Pickles!

Luckily, there promises to be a surfeit of cucumbers - so perhaps I can make both before the end of the growing season.

P.S. - in the recipe, I neglected to note that the potatoes should be peeled and cubed. Please so note!

on the beach

The pictures by Michael Shakespeare Gregg of the child dedication/baptism last weekend are so splendid, I didn't want to bury them in an otherwise rather drab post about liturgies!

Here is the family in question: Here, the 'officiants'. Aunt Dawn with Joshua, the elder. He did well! And now it's Joey's turn. He looks a bit ill at ease; perhaps we'll hold Uncle Jeff's hand. . . . . . . and he did well, too. It was quite a day. . . .

________________________
Here's the liturgy again, for those who wanted it.

All photos in this post (c) 2010 Michael Shakespeare Gregg

onslaught

I cannot keep up with the cucumbers. Every time I turn around, there's four more. And every yellow flower is potentially yet another one! Here's what happens over the course of a few days.
Here (below) is what happens if you miss one! I've decided to leave this one on the vine to see just how big it will get - as well as what colour it ends up. I've never seen the likes of this before. A yellow cucumber! Oh, and did you know that cucumbers on the vine are rather prickly?! I'm thinking that's why the deer won't touch them. . . .

Well, I'm off to find a pickle recipe. Any suggestions? I'm thinking that's the only way to deal with this onslaught.

Note to self: one cucumber plant (given enough bees) is more than enough to keep us in cucumbers!

Further note to self: plant more germander [pictured left]. It attracts more bees than any other plant in the garden, and the germander/cucumber corner is veritably abuzz with our pollinating friends! Not so the cucumber plants on the other side of the garden (for which I am grateful) as well as the melons (for which I am not). I think we need more bees on that side of the yard. As I have declared war on the deer, however, I suspect Luther has declared war on the giant bumblers. . . . It's a problem.

Yes, I know that there's a zucchini crouched amidst the cucumbers. Can you spot him? Yoo hoo! Queen Muh-hum! Time to come fetch your proh-dooce! [grin]

This Means War!

Everyone knows that deer won't touch tomatoes. So what are those green globes littering the landscape in my garden?! Right. Tomatoes.

Apparently no one bothered to tell this year's crop of fawns that they don't like tomatoes. They pulled down just about every green tomato on the plants.

Here are the cloven footprints to prove it! And the little fawn-ey tooth marks. (and the little green bits of where they apparently spat it right back out again! The demons.)

If I'd caught them in the act, there would have been violence, no matter how much they look like Bambi! As it is, I've gone through an entire big canister of cayenne pepper and have cracked open its replacement canister. In some good news, the cayenne is also discouraging Luther's occasional nibble of leaf. The deer also ate the carrot greens, which reminded me to check the carrots again. I found this guy - who looks like he will take up arms with me to fend off the deer. Oooh, they're in trouble now!!!

Meanwhile, I actually had to buy tomatoes yesterday. We won't have a ripe tomato for another couple of weeks.

children - baptism vs. 'dedication'

No, I will not be writing a theological treatise on this subject.

When photographer Michael Shakespeare Gregg gets some photos together I will add a photo or two of the spiritual subjects in question: Joshua and Joseph, two tykes who were dedicated [if not baptized] this weekend on a beach in Delaware. They are adorable!

The event required a liturgy, which was not that easy to find. At least I found it difficult to find a liturgy that was reflective of a Biblical understanding of what we were doing, and managed to explain it to those who do not have much Biblical background. (That, and not be all formal and so ritualized that no one actually hears what's being said!)

Much of it had to be written from scratch.

Anyway, here is the document, which may be freely used or borrowed from: Liturgy for child dedication baptism Several people had asked where they might find a copy. I hope it may be of use!

Notes: we split the talking up (in the document you will see roles for two speakers by ink colour). Also, about half way through, the kids started squirming. . . . Depending upon your subjects, you might not want to bring the child up until the "by what name will this child be called" part!

pixie socks

Cutest baby socks ever!

With a name like SockPixie you expect cute. These socks deliver! You can find SockPixie's free pattern here. I am not completely convinced they will fit a newborn, but what do I know of babies?!

These are the ones I knit. I guess they do look large enough, when pictured with my hand for size reference. . . .

Yes, the greenwood is expecting a grandchild. Of the male persuasion. Did I mention that? Hip, hip, hoorah!

greenwood black beans and rice

We went to the Boordy Vineyard last week for an evening picnic. Several people asked for my black bean and rice recipe, so I thought I'd post what I recall of that batch, here. No two batches are ever alike, you see! For one, our friend Jess doesn't like mushrooms(?!), and because we love Jess, I made this batch without them. (Normally, sliced mushrooms would go in with the onions and ground meat.) Still, this batch was particularly good. . . .

1 lb ground pork

olive oil
1 large Vidalia onion chopped fine
1 or 2 cans of black beans
- (I used one jumbo can – not sure if that’s 2 cans or not)
3 or 4 carrots chopped fine
- (primarily for colour so measure accordingly)
Knorr’s beef bouillon cubes
- (enough for 6 cups of water – so 3 large cubes)
3 cups rice
- (I used 1.5 cups “Royal Blend” wild rice blend and 1.5 cups basmati rice)
red pepper flakes (to taste - don't be shy!)
whatever other herbs tickle your fancy
– I used [probably – who remembers?!] celery seed, cumin, rosemary and savory – and chopped parsley to mix with the onion to add later as a garnish, on top)

In a large heavy pot (suitable also for cooking rice – so with a good, tight lid), pour in olive oil, add half of the chopped onion (the rest will be reserved for garnish) and cook over medium heat. Add in the ground pork and brown and cook. When the onions have softened a bit and the pork is browned and crumbled, add in the bouillon cubes, and mash them to mix with the olive oil, onion and meat. They mash easily, as they are heated.

Stir in the rice, and stir to coat. Keep the heat at medium to medium high, and drain the bean juice into a measuring cup, counting it toward the 6 cups of water you will need to add to the rice. Pour in the bean juice and then add the balance of 6 cups in water, stirring it all up, to make sure the beef bouillon is mixed through. Add maybe a half cup of the beans (you’ll add the rest when the rice is cooked). Add your carrots, herbs and red pepper flakes and turn up the heat, stirring often so the rice doesn’t scorch, until the mixture comes to a boil. You want to get it to a boil as quickly as possible.

As soon as it comes to a boil, turn down the heat – for me, I turn it down as low as my medium gas burner will go – cover with tight lid, and let it simmer for 20 minutes. Don’t lift the lid or do anything to it for that 20 minutes – this is a bit of a faith element, as you have to trust the heat is neither too low (it won’t cook) or too high (it will scorch. . . .) . Pretty much cook the rice the way you usually cook normal rice, though, and you should be ok.

After 20 minutes, take pot off heat and let it sit – still covered – for another 5 to 10 minutes. No peeking!

Now for the moment of truth: lift the lid, and fluff the rice with a big fork. [and hope it’s neither undercooked or overcooked!] Stir in the black beans, and adjust seasonings if necessary.

Serve with sour cream and the chopped onion/parsley mixture (into which I also pour a bit of good olive oil).

Sorry, no pictures of either the dish or our outing. It was a beautiful setting. . . . Fireflies among the trees.

cayenne warfare

Last year, the queen-mum found a gorgeous day lilly garden in Bethany Beach, with an obliging gardener who will occasionally dig up some of his prize day lilies for you, for a modest sum. She ordered all kinds and colours from him, some of which made their way to the greenwood. Not having seen the garden in bloom, I had to take the rave reviews on faith. We planted them last fall.

The first blossom was certainly not a disappointment. It looked like a cross between a honeydew and a cantaloupe - almost good enough to eat! The next morning, I went out to see what new blossoms might be open. They were all gone. The deer ate all the day lilly blossoms except for this one.

Man! That's it. No more mister nice-guy!!!

The colour suggests my recourse. Cayenne pepper. Just a little over $3 from Sam's Club. This would hurt, going down. So far, so good. They haven't touched it. And that's good news, as that means I'll get at least a couple blossoms this summer, even if they are all cayenne-coloured! Next year, I'll break out the cayenne at the first sign of budding.

Oh, and for the green beans, too. The deer don't eat the beans themselves, but they eat all the leaves off the plant, which effectively stops the plant in its tracks. . . . Everything in the garden now sports a reddish glaze. Here, you can see wee green beans left behind when the deer ate the green bean leaf canopy overhead. . . . I peppered the remaining leaves. All's fair in garden warfare!

(but I will remember to wash my hands after picking green beans. . . . I will remember to wash my hands after picking green beans. . . . I will remember to wash my hands after picking green beans. . . . )