Happy Thanksgiving!
Thanksgiving in the Garden
The vegetable garden is tucked in for the winter. Just in time, as we're supposed to dip down to freezing temps in the next couple of nights.
In the raised beds, vegetables are starting to appear.
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| spinach |
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| braising greens |
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| garlic |
Elsewhere, perennial veg is looking green and healthy.
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| artichoke |
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| asparagus - I imagine I'll need to cut all this back soon |
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| apple hit by frost |
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| 'outlined' blackberry leaves |
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| agastache |
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| borage |
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| buddeleia |
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| erigeron |
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| gaillardia |
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| gumplant |
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| hebe |
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| milkweed |
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| narcissus blooming already - not good |
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| nasturtium |
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| chuparosa |
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| sunflower |
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| tithonia |
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| coleus |
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| Chinese Pistache |
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| redbud leaf |
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| Chitalpa |
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| Crepe Myrtle |
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| Peach |
We opened the hive yesterday for the last time this year (unless something goes awry), and the bees (population down to a couple of thousand) are looking well-supplied for winter with plenty of honey. There was even a little bit of brood.
And now that we're on vacation for the week, that means lots of autumn walks in the open space.
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| The kids are starting to look awfully grown up! |
Looking forward to family time and good food this coming week!
Meyer Lemon Jam
I recently discovered the website Food In Jars, and it's provided a lot of inspiration for me. Next summer, I'll be making a lot of the recipes on this site. I wish I could make them now, but there's not much in the garden to preserve!
There is, however, citrus. Winter is the time for lemons and oranges. We don't have any citrus trees on our property, but my very generous neighbor has a Meyer Lemon tree. She is always ok with me picking some. There always seem to be more than enough for everyone! I've been watching the lemons, waiting until they were ripe, to try a Meyer Lemon Jam recipe, sweetened with honey. I picked several pounds of lemons yesterday. They were just this side of ripe and probably could have used one more week on the tree.
Then I proceeded to make this very simple but very time-consuming jam recipe. The house smelled heavenly through all stages! And I ended up with 12 quarter pints and 3 half pints of jam. I have to say it tastes very strange to me, though - I don't know if it's that I'm not used to citrus jam, or slightly sour jam, or if it's that the recipe uses the peel and pith of the lemons, so there was a good deal of bitterness - maybe I just have an undeveloped palate? Will people like a slightly bitter, slightly sour, slightly sweet jam? I don't know.
One thing I do know is that it sure looks pretty.
Maybe this jam will be more for grilled chicken or fish, rather than buttered toast.
Has anyone made lemon jam before? If so, could you tell me how it turned out for you?
There is, however, citrus. Winter is the time for lemons and oranges. We don't have any citrus trees on our property, but my very generous neighbor has a Meyer Lemon tree. She is always ok with me picking some. There always seem to be more than enough for everyone! I've been watching the lemons, waiting until they were ripe, to try a Meyer Lemon Jam recipe, sweetened with honey. I picked several pounds of lemons yesterday. They were just this side of ripe and probably could have used one more week on the tree.
Then I proceeded to make this very simple but very time-consuming jam recipe. The house smelled heavenly through all stages! And I ended up with 12 quarter pints and 3 half pints of jam. I have to say it tastes very strange to me, though - I don't know if it's that I'm not used to citrus jam, or slightly sour jam, or if it's that the recipe uses the peel and pith of the lemons, so there was a good deal of bitterness - maybe I just have an undeveloped palate? Will people like a slightly bitter, slightly sour, slightly sweet jam? I don't know.
One thing I do know is that it sure looks pretty.
Maybe this jam will be more for grilled chicken or fish, rather than buttered toast.
Has anyone made lemon jam before? If so, could you tell me how it turned out for you?
The Buckwheat Problem
I've messed up in a big way with the buckwheat cover crop. What started out as a soil-improvement plan (it's worked in the past!) has become a major pain in my butt.
Here's the issue. I seeded a huge amount of buckwheat over the summer. Every time a crop was finished and cleared out, I sowed buckwheat, hoping to get some extra tilth before winter planting. But it was so dry here, and so hot, and I was watering (using the drip system) so little, that many of those seeds never germinated. I gave it up for lost and just readied my beds for winter, anyway - planting my scheduled winter crops.
Then, we finally got rain. Two big rains. And guess what happened?
All those little buckwheat seeds were just lying there, deep and warm in the good soil, waiting for moisture. And they've sprung in to action, big time.
I have buckwheat coming up in every bed. It's a complete nuisance.
All that green you see there? Well, or 99% of it? That's buckwheat. Every bed looks exactly like this.
Keep in mind I just weeded this bed. I've been weeding constantly, every chance I get. It seems like for every seedling I pull out, another five come up.
And I can't just get in there and hoe it, because I've already seeded my winter crops! So they are all coming up in the same place the buckwheat is coming up. And hand-weeding has to be especially careful because if I'm too impatient I pull out the good stuff along with the buckwheat! ARGH!!!
I repeat: every bed. Can you tell what I'll be doing over my Thanksgiving break??? Double ARGH.
Lesson learned. Be more judicious with the buckwheat in future. I just assumed it wouldn't germinate if it wasn't super hot outside or in the soil. I was (clearly) wrong.
We've had some crisp nights, with light frost - another chore will be getting the rest of the row covers put up. (They also don't help with my weeding duties - hard to work around.) Meanwhile the leaves are definitely turning.
Afternoons are still sunny and warm. I found this baby lizard on one of my walks with Joe today. He was hanging out on a trail marker.
Here's the issue. I seeded a huge amount of buckwheat over the summer. Every time a crop was finished and cleared out, I sowed buckwheat, hoping to get some extra tilth before winter planting. But it was so dry here, and so hot, and I was watering (using the drip system) so little, that many of those seeds never germinated. I gave it up for lost and just readied my beds for winter, anyway - planting my scheduled winter crops.
Then, we finally got rain. Two big rains. And guess what happened?
All those little buckwheat seeds were just lying there, deep and warm in the good soil, waiting for moisture. And they've sprung in to action, big time.
I have buckwheat coming up in every bed. It's a complete nuisance.
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| The Pea/Kohlrabi bed |
Keep in mind I just weeded this bed. I've been weeding constantly, every chance I get. It seems like for every seedling I pull out, another five come up.
And I can't just get in there and hoe it, because I've already seeded my winter crops! So they are all coming up in the same place the buckwheat is coming up. And hand-weeding has to be especially careful because if I'm too impatient I pull out the good stuff along with the buckwheat! ARGH!!!
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| peas coming up in the buckwheat |
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| spinach coming up in the buckwheat |
Lesson learned. Be more judicious with the buckwheat in future. I just assumed it wouldn't germinate if it wasn't super hot outside or in the soil. I was (clearly) wrong.
We've had some crisp nights, with light frost - another chore will be getting the rest of the row covers put up. (They also don't help with my weeding duties - hard to work around.) Meanwhile the leaves are definitely turning.
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| Crepe Myrtle |
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| Peach |
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| Chinese Pistache |
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| Ribes |
"Taste a Little of the Summer"
Tonight I'm making a baked sausage pasta dish, and the recipe calls for a 28 ounce can of tomatoes. So I went to the canning shelf and took down one of my hard-won jars of crushed tomatoes. I wish you could have been standing with me as I popped off the canning lid, because I was immediately transported - the sharp, rich smell of tomatoes and summer filled the air.
And immediately I understood why. Why we stand at a steaming stove with bubbling pots on the hottest days of the year, wiping the sweat constantly from our foreheads, cursing at the canner and the slippery jars. It's so we can open a jar of summer in late November.
It's completely unlike opening a can of tomatoes from the store. That store-bought can is like a black and white copy of the homemade version, it is fine, but nothing like the homemade version, which upon opening takes you right back to the lushness of your July garden.
Right away, this song came in to my head:
"Let the December winds bellow 'n blow
I'm as warm as a July tomato.
Peaches on the shelf, potatoes in the bin,
Supper's ready, everybody come on in
Taste a little of the summer,
Taste a little of the summer,
You can taste a little of the summer
My grandma's put it all in jars.
Well, there's a root cellar, fruit cellar, down below
Watch your head now, down you go
Maybe you're weary and you don't give a damn
I bet you never tasted her blackberry jam
Ah, she's got magic in her - you know what I mean
She puts the sun and rain in with her green beans.
She cans pickles, sweet and dill
She cans the songs of the whippoorwill
And the morning dew and the evening moon
And I really got to go see her pretty soon
'Cause those canned goods I buy at the store
Ain't got the summer in 'em anymore.
Peaches on the shelf, potatoes in the bin,
Supper's ready, everybody come on in
Taste a little of the summer
Taste a little of the summer
You can taste a little of the summer
My grandma's put it all in jars." (Greg Brown)
Now, I'm sold. I wasn't this past summer, though canning was a fun project and it made me feel good to actually preserve the harvest - I wasn't sure it was really worth it. I've just reached the next level, though, one which I could not have imagined back in July - and that is how welcome a jar of summer tomatoes would be one cold night in November.
And immediately I understood why. Why we stand at a steaming stove with bubbling pots on the hottest days of the year, wiping the sweat constantly from our foreheads, cursing at the canner and the slippery jars. It's so we can open a jar of summer in late November.
It's completely unlike opening a can of tomatoes from the store. That store-bought can is like a black and white copy of the homemade version, it is fine, but nothing like the homemade version, which upon opening takes you right back to the lushness of your July garden.
Right away, this song came in to my head:
"Let the December winds bellow 'n blow
I'm as warm as a July tomato.
Peaches on the shelf, potatoes in the bin,
Supper's ready, everybody come on in
Taste a little of the summer,
Taste a little of the summer,
You can taste a little of the summer
My grandma's put it all in jars.
Well, there's a root cellar, fruit cellar, down below
Watch your head now, down you go
Maybe you're weary and you don't give a damn
I bet you never tasted her blackberry jam
Ah, she's got magic in her - you know what I mean
She puts the sun and rain in with her green beans.
She cans pickles, sweet and dill
She cans the songs of the whippoorwill
And the morning dew and the evening moon
And I really got to go see her pretty soon
'Cause those canned goods I buy at the store
Ain't got the summer in 'em anymore.
Peaches on the shelf, potatoes in the bin,
Supper's ready, everybody come on in
Taste a little of the summer
Taste a little of the summer
You can taste a little of the summer
My grandma's put it all in jars." (Greg Brown)
Now, I'm sold. I wasn't this past summer, though canning was a fun project and it made me feel good to actually preserve the harvest - I wasn't sure it was really worth it. I've just reached the next level, though, one which I could not have imagined back in July - and that is how welcome a jar of summer tomatoes would be one cold night in November.