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“…the shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors…each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events and memories…”
–Chief Seattle’s Speech
Filmed alongside the Mississippi River (Memphis, Tennessee and West Memphis, Arkansas banks) and the Wolf River.
Restore, conserve, and preserve our waterways – lives depend on them.
purr, purr, purr
I recently had the imperative urge to make a wreath. I don’t know why. I’ve never made a wreath before. In fact, my lifestyle up to this point has been unconducive to entertaining whatever hidden forces compel people to adorn thresholds with festooned circles. I have owned exactly two wreaths my whole adult life – both were of the Christmas variety. Both were gifts. I have rarely managed to get them on the doors or take them off the doors during the proper seasons. When October swept in along came the need to stick a bunch of stuff in a circle. It was confusing to say the least.
But mine is not to reason why…I am a mere foot soldier in The War of Art.
When the battle horn sounded, the command rang out:
"Forward the Brigade! Charge the Salvation Army!"
Thus, into the Valley of Forsaken Things I blundered, Running with scissors and waving glue gun, While all the world held its breath and wondered, 'How dare this warrior woman fight so hard to have fun?' COVID to the right of me! COVID to the left of me! COVID in front of me! A cough and splutter ...eyes sealed and breath held tight against the potentially virulent cough cloud... ...and there...there in the distance ...buried in obscurity, came the small cry of a weak voice:
And I rescued the scarecrow from his Circle of Doom. May his golden years be spent in the garden watching the peas grow and giving the crows and hawk something to laugh about.
The circle was then restructured as such:
Keep fighting the good fight, Sweet Brigade of Light.
One cat just leads to another.
–Ernest Hemingway
*Yogi Goaty Goodness*
I’m not making this up.
It’s something that exists in the world now.
Just….LOOK!!
Nosowitz, D. (August 29, 2016). Goat Yoga: It’s Yoga with Goats. Modern Farmer. Online
T
And within the course of a week life went abruptly from this
to this
My pickle journey began on a crisp January day this year. I was flipping though Annie’s Heirloom Seed Catalogue, while fantasizing about warm weather and all the stuff I wanted to grow in the garden.
Me: “Hey! We could grow corn and make our own popcorn!!”
El-D Squidward: “No. The deer will eat it.”
Me: “Then we need to plant enough for the deer to eat too! What could be better than homegrown popcorn!?”
El-D Squidward: “Being dead…or anything else.” (ok, maybe he didn’t say that part exactly, but the sentiment was expressed in the look he gave me.)
I continued flipping pages in the catalogue and came to the page with cucumbers. Homemade pickles! I kept this thought to myself, lest I be told a plague of cucumber-eating locust were expected this year.
I pondered pickles for few months, then ordered the seeds for Boston Pickling Cucumbers. The date was March 24th.
I planted them on May 6th. Little fuzzy plants began pulling themselves out of the ground a few weeks later.
El-D saw them coming up and built them a fancy trellis. On May 11th it occurred to me that I really needed to be growing dill if I was going to make pickles, so I planted some.
As the cucumber blossoms started turning into fruit, I realized that this pickle thing might acutally happen. The search for recipes began in earnest. I watched the Good Eats episode on pickle making as part of my research because Alton Brown is THE MAN.
After painstaking research, I finally decided on Curbstone Valley Farm’s Classic Dill Pickle recipe. Four stores later, I had managed to acquire almost all the ingredients. (Where the heck does one find juniper berries??).
Today, pickle preparation began. Today alone was a 5 hour labor of love.
I have the scalded skin to show for it. Seven months after the pickle idea popped into my head, I have this…
<cue angels singing here>
Sing it with me y’all!
…and now I only have three weeks to wait. This batch will be ready August 2. *sigh*
This is us, this is love, this is where I’m home.
We’ve been on staycation for the last week. It’s all my fault. How can anyone be expected to vacate when the moonflower is unfurling all her Love across the fence? I mean really!
the moonflower leaves sweet Valentines
I can’t possibly tear myself away from this. Someone must remain present to witness it all.
Time tending the garden must be subtracted from time in transit, from time absorbed by electronic screens, and from time preparing agendas and itineraries.
Planning a vacation sounds like work in comparison when there is a Magic Queendom just outside the doorstep…
a squash blossom forest
…amusing sights abound at every turn.
this from a tiny seed dropped in the dirt!
Ants parade around accompanied by birdsong bands. A lizard mama skitters away-quiet as a whispered secret-when the hiding place for her glowing eggs is suddenly revealed to a startled human female, who quickly restores their cover.
Over the course of the week, we did venture a short distance from home. Just around the corner is an enchanted land where fairies frolic and gnomes make homes.
And just a little further out, though still remaining firmly rooted in the City of Kings, there was another garden to visit.
El-D commands the sea creatures
And that is what I did on my summer staycation.
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