Freezing Peas

I can’t think of a better spring supper than peas, briefly warmed in a saucepan with salted butter.

I have realized something. Every vegetable, every fruit, and every flower, is my favorite on the day when they are at their peak. One day asparagus might win the prize, the next it might be a tomato or a dahlia. I just can’t pick a favorite, so I will have a different favorite every single day.

And today, peas win.

Food production has not been a sure thing the past eight months in our garden, but one thing that’s done quite well is shelling peas. With one kid away at college, we are picking far more than we need. So for the first time ever, I can freeze some for the off-season!

The National Center for Food Preservation recommends blanching the shelled peas for 30 seconds in boiling water, then draining and freezing them in jars. So, that’s what I did! It could not be more simple. I’m excited to have sweet peas for the off-season, either to eat plain, or in one of our favorite dinners, pasta carbonara. Peas are not authentic to this dish, but we love them here.

Pasta Carbonara ala Poppy Corners

1 lb. pasta (we prefer thick long noodles for this, like linguine)
1 lb. bacon (preferably pastured), chopped
1-2 cups peas (fresh or frozen)
3 cloves garlic, minced
2-3 eggs (as fresh as possible)
1 C parmesan (plus more for serving), finely shredded
salt and pepper

Get some water heating for pasta.

In a very large skillet, cook the bacon until crisp and all the fat has rendered. Do not drain. Add the garlic and fry for 30 seconds until fragrant. Add the peas, and turn the burner down to simmer. Let that go for a bit.

In a large bowl, whisk the eggs with the parmesan. If you have very large eggs, two will be enough. For smaller eggs, use three. Add salt and pepper. Set aside.

Cook the pasta according to package directions. When cooked al dente, drain, then add to skillet with pea mixture and toss pasta so that every strand is coated with bacon drippings, garlic, peas, and bacon.

Add a scoop of the hot pasta mixture to the egg mixture, stirring vigorously (you want the eggs to warm up without cooking. This is not pasta with scrambled eggs!). Add a little bit more of the pasta, stirring all the while, until all the pasta is in and mixed.

Serve in large bowls with extra parmesan.

Some Recommendations

Rin and I took a brief trip to Savannah, Georgia, to visit the Savannah College of Art and Design, which is her #1 choice for college (she’s been accepted already, but I couldn’t let her attend school so far away without seeing it first). We loved the town; it’s flat and very walkable, with beautiful architecture, trees, and green spaces. We enjoyed some southern cooking and seafood, and even got to visit with some dear friends who were coincidentally in the area.

While on the flights to and from Georgia, I listened to a few really great podcasts which I wanted to share with you. One was NPR’s Fresh Air, with Dave Davies interviewing Scott Weidnesaul about migratory birds. I found this episode fascinating, especially how the biology of birds changes to prepare them for a long flight.

Another was Joe L’mpl’s (Growing a Greener World) podcast Joe Gardener, with scientist Jake Mowrer, talking about Regenerative Agriculture and Permaculture. I thought this discussion was one of the best I’ve ever heard that explains why these methods of planting help mitigate climate change, along with how they improve the soil.

The third podcast I want to recommend is A Way to Garden, in which Margaret Roach interviews Doug Tallamy (someone I’ve mentioned before, because he’s an insect guy) about the epidemiological value of oak trees. I love oak trees (that’s a Southern Live Oak, above, with Spanish moss), and it’s one of the best trees you can plant/nurture for wildlife, no matter where you live.

I have also been using a new app a lot, both at home and on the road, called BirdNET. It’s from Cornell, and it records the sounds of birds and then identifies them for you. If, like me, you hear a new bird and find yourself standing stock still while craning your neck trying to spot the dang thing, this app will help you no end. I can’t get enough of it and highly recommend it.

And because I’ve talked to several people lately about this app, I must again recommend iNaturalist. This app will allow you take a photo of anything natural - birds, bugs, flowers, moss, lichen, animal footprints - and identify it for you. If you get the app, follow me @poppycorners and I’ll follow you, and we’ll be able to see what the other is finding and identifying. The only thing that iNat hasn’t identified for me is scat, but I’m sure that will be corrected soon.

Before I left on this recent trip, I managed to pot up the tomatoes and get them in the ‘greenhouse’ for hardening off. The weather here was quite warm while I was gone, but it has cooled off some, so I don’t plan to plant out the tomatoes until the end of the month at the earliest. Tomorrow I will purchase 50 pepper plants from the Master Gardeners, which I will also likely stash in the greenhouse for a few weeks yet. Soon it will be time to plant out cucumbers and squashes and beans! How’s your summer garden coming along?

Fiddleneck Spring

My daily hiking practice has yielded views of wildflowers of all kinds, but the one I am definitely seeing the most is the humble fiddleneck (Amsinckia intermedia). These cheerful yellow flowers are part of the Boraginaceae family, the same family that gives us borage, forget-me-nots, and phacelia, which are also similarly prolific. Flowers in this family have an inflorescence called a ‘cyme,’ which has this distinct curved row of flowers, with the oldest one at the bottom and the newest in the center of the curve. Bees love flowers in this family, though it’s been cold enough here that I haven’t seen a ton of native bees out yet.

Unfortunately the fiddleneck, charming as it may be, is often considered a weed, because it is toxic to livestock - and the hills around here are not just available to hikers. Ranchers use them for grazing as well. The irony is that often our worst weeds grow in disturbed areas, and the hillsides are very disturbed - by those grazing cattle! So sometimes what we most detest is also caused by us, which is not news to environmentalists.

Regardless, I enjoy seeing the fields of sunny fiddlenecks when I’m out walking; a beautiful yellow sheen punctuated by the orange of poppies and the blue of Dichelostemma capitatum.

Well, I have some bad news. My peppers are pretty much all dead. I planted them waaaaay too early, but covered them in the hopes that they’d make it; unfortunately we had some serious cold snaps in early March and that spelled disaster for these heat-loving plants. I also had some sort of animal disturbance in one of the beds…. squirrels? the local marauding cat? Who knows. I’m pretty bummed by 100 dead pepper plants, considering they were babied by me, indoors, for two months. Ugh.

However, my tomatoes are looking just great. I’ve had good germination and they are getting quite tall and beginning to sprout true leaves. I’ll have to decide what to do with them soon. Do I take the pepper lesson to heart and pot the tomatoes up and keep them in the greenhouse for a while yet? Or do I ignore the pepper lesson, throw caution to the wind, and plant them directly into beds? Am I feeling more lucky with the weather now than I did in February?

Luckily, the Master Gardeners are coming through for me this year in a big way. Their yearly sale is going ahead as usual, just not in person. They will take orders on April 6 and have them ready for pick up shortly afterward. I’m planning on ordering a whole bunch of pepper starts! The proceeds go to their garden, where they grow produce for local folks who are facing food insecurity, so it’s a great place to buy your veg starts.

Pine Siskins and Bird Feeders

We’ve had this bird feeder in active use for a couple of years now; Tom made a place for it to hang on the corner of the chicken coop, so that any fallen seed would get eaten by our chickens rather than sprouting and making more work for me. We have just been delighted by the activity that the feeder has brought to our yard. At dawn, when I go outside to let the chickens out of their run, I also fill the feeder. All the neighborhood birds are in the nearby oak and pine trees, waiting for me. They watch me fill the feeder, and then they descend, even though I am right there working in the chicken coop. I guess they are used to me now!

There seems to be a hierarchy of birds in the order they feed; the house finches are often first, followed by the goldfinches, and then later on I notice chickadees and titmice getting taking a turn. Often times, a row of birds will sit on the fence that borders the chicken run. They chatter and sing and it’s a wonderful sound throughout the morning. The feeder is usually empty by early afternoon, with a stray bird visiting to get the last few seeds.

All of the sparrows, the migratory golden-crowned, white-crowned, and song sparrows, tend to forage on the fallen seeds below, ducking and weaving around the chickens. This morning I noticed a Bewick’s wren (usually an insect-eater) at the feeder. We’ve also had pine siskins in droves all winter. They are harder to spot because they look a lot like finches, and in fact, they are in the finch family.

In late January, we had two separate instances of a solitary pine siskin resting in our pots. Both times, the birds looked cold - feathers puffed up, a slight shivering or shaking in their bodies, breathing hard, and not at all afraid of us coming close. We thought they were baby birds fledging and did not want to intervene. The bird above looked especially cold, and both Tom and I went by it at separate times, wondering if we should move it into the sun. But we each decided, individually, to leave it alone. It was right by our back door so we were going past it all day. Eventually, Tom went out to check on it and found it dead. We were both so mad at ourselves at the time because we could have easily moved it into the sun. We thought it was our fault that the bird had died. Sometimes it’s hard to know what to do when you see an animal in distress.

But, it turns out, this was part of a much bigger problem that neither of us knew about until this past week. Apparently, there has been a Salmonella outbreak here this winter, which is affecting all members of the finch family, but especially pine siskins. Bird feeders and common gathering areas are to blame. The bacteria gets into the feces of the birds, and can then be spread easily near where the birds congregate. The advice from the California Department of Fish and Game is to take down any bird feeders and allow the congregation to stop. I want to comply, but there are an awful lot of birds who depend on our feeder right now, and I’m not sure taking it down is in their best interest.

So yesterday, I went to our local nature store (East Bay Nature), the place where I get my seed mix for the feeder, and asked the owner (Joanie Smith) what she thought. She said this information is not new, the disease and decline of finches has been going on for quite some time (and in fact we never get American goldfinches anymore like we used to, but that’s a discussion for another time and is related to climate change). However she feels that it’s not a good idea to take down the feeder now, since the pine siskins are migratory and are leaving for their summer breeding grounds (Canada), and there are so many other birds who are depending on the seed now.

Speaking of the migration of siskins, this year has seen an especially large one, called an irruption. What’s especially notable about this year’s irruption is that the birds migrated at night. Migration at night is a process that is still not fully understood; a study published in PNAS a couple of years ago found that migratory birds have something in their eyes called cyrptochromes which have evolved a mechanism which enhances their ability to respond to light, which enables them to sense and respond to magnetic fields. Pretty cool.

You might be wondering, as I have been, if any of these infected droppings have affected our chickens. The thing is, chickens live with Salmonella all the time, as we humans do. Our systems are usually able to handle and process and remove any of this bacteria from our systems. My flock seems healthy and well, laying eggs like crazy, eating and moving about as normal, so I do not think they are ill. Meanwhile we are still eating their eggs regularly. It’s also likely that, since we haven’t seen a sick or dead bird for over a month, this disease has passed on and away from here. However I will take precautions: I will be extra diligent about cleaning the bird feeder for a while, and we will cook all eggs before we eat them.

Waking Up

I was a fanciful child, always reading and imagining. I remember that in my childhood home, I had two favorite places.

The first was my bedroom closet, which was enormous, or at least it seemed so at the time. It had a sort of metal door inside at floor level (housing a duct of some kind?) that had a screw at each corner. I used to imagine that there was another world behind the metal plate, and if I just could find my way in, I’d have all sorts of adventures.

The second place was outdoors on the grass underneath the Japanese cherry tree. I’d lie down and stare up through the pink blossoms and watch the sun through the leaves, which would make a gold outline on the edge of every single leaf. Both places magical. Both equally alive in my imagination.

Every day that I can, I go outside. Sometimes I’m there for an hour, sometimes more if I’m lucky. And right now it is just magical out there. California gets a bad rap for a lot of things, and rightfully so, but one thing California does right is early spring. God, it’s glorious. We’ve had a little rain, the hills are still green, and the native wildflowers are all popping up. I hear birds I’ve never heard before, and see animal tracks and scat I don’t recognize. Everything is waking up.

Out walking through a canyon today, I couldn’t help but imagine myself in Narnia. Were there dryads in the oak trees I passed? Would they speak to me? I felt I could hear them when the wind passed through their branches.

“Lucy’s eyes began to grow accustomed to the light, and she saw the trees that were nearest her more distinctly. A great longing for the old days when the trees could talk in Narnia came over her. She knew exactly how each of these trees would talk if only she could wake them, and what sort of human form it would put on. She looked at a sliver birch; it would have a soft, showery voice and would look like a slender girl, with hair blown all about her face, and fond of dancing.”

“She looked at the oak: he would be a wizened, but hearty old man with a frizzled beard and warts on his face and hands, and hair growing out of the warts. She looked at the beech under which she was standing. Ah! - she would be the best of all. She would be a precious goddess, smooth and stately, the lady of the wood.”

C.S. Lewis, Prince Caspian

I just want to encourage you: If you can get out right now, do it. Don’t miss the poppies and the fiddlenecks and the red maids and the blue dicks and the milkmaids and the buttercups. Don’t miss the buckeyes unfurling their vernal green leaves or the pink of the wild plums. Don’t miss the nesting falcons, the foraging bluebirds, the shy flickers. Don’t miss the tiny rills, the deep gullies, the ephemeral streams. Don’t miss spring. Get out there and see everything waking up.