Letting Go

I'm thinking of potatoes again—yes, they are a soul food and this time of year when we're losing our light, more spuds are a good thing. Today I will celebrate the Jewish New Year with several friends and we will eat traditional food and let go of our "sins". With me, it is the preoccupation with the ex that gets me going inside, all worked up, etc., that I want to let go of. I don't want to think about him. I want to imagine all the new things I want to accomplish and head toward them. I want to learn to be close with others without being afraid. And I want to be in love again some day.

For this evenings dinner, I will roast potatoes. I grew a few in the garden, so will dig them today. I used to grow heaps of potatoes and eat them through the winter. Now, I eat fewer potatoes per my naturopath's recommendation. He says that eating them with protein denies the use of the protein to the body. Thus, I'm only making myself more cholesterol. Eek! But I have been eating my meals this way for some time. I have greens and eggs for breakfast, greens or broccoli and meat for lunch, and same-o same-o for dinner. Oh well. If it lowers the cholesterol, that will be great.

Yesterday I went to the beach with Brenda and Abbe and the grandbaby. My grandson was having a great time throwing rocks and picking up seaweed and walking into the water—he had on his little boots, and then at one point, out of the blue, he ran into the water, fell face forward, and of course there I was grabbing him out. We were both soaked. And he was crying. I didn't have extra clothes with me, but I did have an extra diaper. So stripped him and changed his diaper and put him in the cuddly pack. It surprised him more than anything and taught me a lesson. Got to watch them like a hawk.

We went to Larrabee State Park and Brenda showed me her favorite rocky places. There were some very nice gnarled trees I'd like to paint. And the day was glorious, one of our last summer days I imagine, as the rain will come again soon.

Libra New Moon

I mentioned the other day that the new moon was coming and now it is here, today around 8 degrees Libra. I've been thinking a lot about how to be in relationship and find balance, happiness, give and take, love. Libra is about balance. Being overly on one side of the scale would mean being co-dependant, giving everything to another and nothing to oneself. All the way on the other side, Aries: everything is for the self, nothing for the other. Balance in the middle, this is best my astrologer always said.

On the dock yesterday at Diablo Lake, I read an article in Shambala Magazine. Thich Nhat Hanh was talking about relationships and using the hands as a metaphor for two people. When the right hand gets hurt, the left hand is there right away. Helping. The right hand doesn't say, look at all I'm doing, I'm drinking tea, I'm doing calligraphy, and you do nothing. The hands are not punitive. The hands work together and relationship should work that way. This is balance, I'd say. Don't you think? More from from the Zen Priest True Love: A Practice of Awakening the Heart

We, participants at Diablo Downtime, all worked together on a peeling garlic project on the deck of the dining hall Saturday evening. The sun was low on the water, reflecting bright light, and it was a little chilly, a breeze coming up the valley, but beautiful. And we peeled garlic, a good thing to do since the peeled garlic you buy comes from China—warning! There were about eight of us and we talked about memoires and food and cattle drives. It was a good chat. And we peeled a gallon and one half of garlic cloves. Chef Charles suggested we buy local, even if it isn't organic. It is better to have broccoli from a neighboring farm than from China. Again China comes to mind—danger! This is the way I was raised, although then it was about unions and commerce. This is about where our food comes from and what goes into it—and the expense of shipping.

And of course the best is to grow your own. In your lovely garden.

Happy day,

Flower

Diablo Lake

At the North Cascades Institute, the mountains rise up like sentinals, rocky and patched with snow. The buzz of mountains, have you felt it?, is grounding and wonderful. I live by the water, a floaty place to live. In the mountains I breath differently, not so hectic, not so swishing about. This weekend is call Diablo Downtime. You can hike or do yoga, read, sleep, canoe. And the food, it's fabulous. And the night sky, pitch black with stars, a gazillion of them. Fabulous.

Here's where you can go to see learn more about this fabulous place, www.northcascadsinstitue.com. There are many art classes and nature writing classes. Your children can come for events. It's in the foothills of the cascades--lovely. And you should see the buildings. Fabulous--good in snow.

I'm here with two friends. We had a snoring event last night, some restlessness and loss of sleep. All in all, it was not the best, but okay. And everyone is happy this morning. Ahhhhhh!
Later,
Flower

Libra New Moon

Monday is the new moon in Libra. My favorite astrologer, Stephanie Austin says: "The next New Moon forms on Monday, September 29 at 1:12 AM PDT at 7º Libra. Libra is the sign most concerned with balance and equality, partnership and peace. Its shadow side is codependency and mistaking appearance for substance. This New Moon brings our attention to what we really want and whether we are being motivated by fear, fantasy, or truth."

So I guess where we are giving too much, we can find balance, being sure of our motivations for giving. I had a husband of many years who gave to me out of duty, not out of love. Well, if it was love, it was convoluted love. I guess for my own healing, believing it was love would be a good thing. Then I could settle into my heart in a different way. A satisfied way--afterall, it was a long marriage.

Today the garden is melting, it does this in the fall, twists and browns and melts. I'm not going over there for awhile, as I have so much work to do in getting it ready for winter, I just can't face it. My cold is mostly gone, thank you for your concern, and I'm on my way to the North Cascades Institute today for a down time retreat. I guess it's a beautiful and majestic place, with high mountains and a lake, Diablo Lake. I always wonder why things are named after the devil. That is what it means, isn't it?

I'm doing the The Artist's Way again. I've done it twice before, once for me and once with a group of women. It is a good process to see where one wants to go but stops oneself. To let go of perfectionism around art. Just this morning I was reading about shadow artists. Perhaps I've been a bit of a shadow artist for most of my life, why, I think because I was told I'd never make any money at it. You have to do work that makes you money, that was the credo in my house. Not work that you love and feel passionate about. No, money, money, money reigned. Well, it feeds you but doesn't buy happiness, that's for sure.

Okay, I'm sore today from Pilates. Do any of you do that for exercise? I've just started. It's hard work, all those tiny inner muscles—yikes. They're me biting today.

See you soon,

Flower

Cow Farmer Says Early Winter

The Farmer's Almanac is probably where he got his info. That's how a farmer would know it will be an early winter, wouldn't it? Well, natural signs can be read, of course, in the environment. I've heard that when you see the geese flying south early, when you notice your animals are getting their winter coats early, and not because it is cold outside, it'll be an early winter, that these signs tell you about coming winter. It's in the air, the bite, you can feel it. Yesterday I bought a new winter coat. That's a sign. I need to get my car in to have the antifreeze checked too. I thought of snow makes me shiver. But there are already reports of snow on Mt Baker. Sheez!

Well, the good news is that I've been asked over for dinner by a new friend. And he just went to the mountains and said he hiked in snow. Wet snow of course, but still, snow. When I was growing up in Spokane, we frequently had snow by Halloween. I'd like to see snow this year, maybe even enough to cross-country ski. I have old skis. They are practically embarrassing, like they could be nailed to the side of some building in the alps, a decoration. They are wood skies that need to be waxed. I'm not sure you can even buy wax now. Jack was good at waxing the skies. He would pick just the right stickiness, and dab it on the length of the wood, then heat is slightly, smooth it out. He was talented at many things, later his talent became tipping back a bottle. It's a sad story, we needn't go there.

The Farmer's Almanac also suggests when to pick vegetables and when to plant them. Sometimes it says how to measure them for proper growth. I haven't seen the magazine in years, but perhaps having a guidance chart for when to plant would be a good thing. Peas by a certain date, potatoes on Good Friday. Are there other holiday dates, corn knee high by the Fourth of July. I'm on to something here. Maybe dried beans by Halloween. Maybe…

Well I'm still in bed nursing this cold. Hot tea, a snuggy blanket, my cat. I can hear the wind howling outside the condo. The way the buildings are built here in a grouping causes the wind to howl through them. It's agonizing at times. Nerves, loss of sleep. Everyone complains. Nothing you can do about it, except maybe, a big sheet of cloth. Yes, stretched from building A to the parking lot. A sail. That's it. A sail to catch the wind.

Peace,
Flower

Potatoes

I love to dig potatoes in the fall, turning over the soil on a sunny day, gleaning from the rich darkness the white or red jewels. Oh, so poetic. But it is like finding treasure, those yellow fin and reds and you know of course how to find the new potatoes to cook with your peas in the spring? You find the flowering plants and reach carefully beneath, sort of like reaching beneath a hen for a newly laid egg. I've done that, the egg is warm, the hen cackles a bit--and the potato plant has all these tiny potatoes growing along the roots, they can be snapped off and the plant will continue to grow. New potatoes are the size of a plum and when cooked with new peas, ah, what a treat. I used to make a sauce of cornstarch and water and salt and blend it in with the cooking water--always I use a minimal amount as to not waste vitamins--and when creamy, salt and pepper to taste. I could eat that now, new potatoes and peas for breakfast, add an egg, viola, I'm in Heaven.

Soon,

Flower

List

1. Turn over soil.
   
2. Clean out boxes of stuff hauled from other house
   
3. Haul manure
   
4. Pack for Diablo Down Time
   
5. Brush Sid
   
6. Vacuum
   
7. Fill out Hedgebrook application
   
8. Eat
   
9. Write
   
10. Sleep
    
11. Recover from cold
    
12. Watch for snow
    
13. Buy warm coat
    
14. Buy warm hat
    
15. Buy new shoes
    
16. Pay bills
    
17. Earn money
    
18. Ha, ha, ha
    
19. Meditate
    
20. Sleep
    
21. I know I already said that.
    
22. Shower
    

Flower

Apples

My first husband loved old apple orchards and would take me on the back of his Bridgestone motorcycle and we'd wander through farmland on old dirt roads and find the gnarled old trees laden with apples, apples dangling over the road or already fallen in the ditch. Frequently we'd come home with bags of apples and cook them up into sauce. Delicious, tart and flavored with cinnamon. Or I'd make apple butter, cooking the apples down for a long time then putting them through a fruit sieve. Yesterday I gathered some Gravenstein in my friend's backyard. They cooked into a lovely sauce that didn't need any sugar.

When I was a kid, canned fruits and pickles were thought of as an awesome thing. They had a special place on our shelves—being of real value and respect. When food was put by, it wasn't some little kitchen project, it was the real deal, this was the food for the winter. Canned fruits and pressure canned meats, dried meats and fruits, pickled and salted items. See Putting Food By for more recipes.

If you have an abundance of apples, you could try making apple butter. The easy way is to peel and core apples and chunk them up in a baking dish. Add the cinnamon and sugar, not too sweet, and bake (350)until it cooks down thickly. You can stir several times during the cooking process. You'll be able to tell when it is a nice spreadable consistency.

Last night I attended an Equinox event. We celebrated with a great meal of chicken and vegetables and a dish of baked mushrooms and pecans and orange slices. It really is fall, colder, darker, and I have a little cold. Yes, almost on Q, the cold came with the cooler weather. Perhaps there is an apple remedy for colds, there is a honey and lemon one, I know that, and tea, of course, always lots of tea. And for the heart, seeing things in a new way. A new perspective is appropriate at this time. Well, that's what turning points are for.

At both Equinoxes and Solstices, we can set new intentions for what we want in our lives. I want to be happy running my own life. And of course I want my heart to heal. And I want my garden to flourish. Also a metaphor. Enjoy the abundance of fall and keep at that garden. It's good for you and for the earth. What are you intentions?

Peace,
Flower

Cheating

I downloaded the book from Oprah's website about Why Men Cheat, although I haven't read it yet. Has anyone else? I heard there was fallout from the show, the jest of it all being that men don't get enough attention to at home, and then they cheat. The women in the audience said they didn't always get sex either, and they didn't cheat. Well, some women do cheat--but generally speaking, they didn't. My husband was getting what he wanted but he just wanted something different. He felt we were in a rut.

I'm very comfortable with the same, with variation within the same, but I derive comfort from knowing what to expect, from having routine, from waking up next to the same person year after year. Unfortunately the last part of my marriage became a roommate situation, and then under the guise of a marriage sabbatical, separation. Now divorce. Everyday there are periods of time when my heart hurts like it's been tromped on by a herd of buffalo. It is unfathomable to me that the heart can hurt this badly. After all, it is just emotion creating this pain. Does emotion come from muscle, the brain, the emotional body—whatever it is, it is potent.

I learned in a class explaining emotional well-being and difficult emotions, that there is more information going from the heart to the brain than from the brain to the heart. This is an important fact that little of us know. As my husband and came closer to the end, the more he accelerated leaving behind his hunt by finding a new honey. And the more I tried to hold onto him, the more he shut me out. I realize he was dealing with his pain in his own way—finding a new honey was a solution, as valid as any, I guess. I feel sorry for her, however, because he couldn't possibly be finished with the grief--at least from my point of view that would be true.

Well, this isn't supposed to be about me, it is supposed to be about the garden. The garden—ah blighted tomatoes. Yes, it is rainging. I just don't have the stamina right now to go at it, build little tomato houses, keep things going well in to the winter. But I may have a burst of energy soon, who knows. I may get to that kale planted instead of pining away, my heart mending bit by bit. I have a meeting this morning, so have to get going. More later about the saga of the divorcee.

Flowering Flower

PS At the Unitarian service this morning the minister spoke about the healing properties of music. This I have forgotten, so a solution, a medicine for the ailing heart. I will take it for however long it takes. That and my hands digging in soil.

A Small Disaster

Once I had a garden that flooded one black night. The water came from the stream just beyond the barbwire, creeping across the field in the dark in a slithery manner. I stood in the yard with my husband and listened; it was so dark that night, we couldn't see the water reflecting moonlight, but I suppose we had a flashlight and we aimed it at the shiny predator moving slowly toward the dry side yard where we stood worrying. That was the only flood I've been around, and it wasn't a raging thing, it was a creek after all that had gotten jammed up with sticks and limbs and small logs. We'd stood by it one day while walking, taking in the debris and thinking nothing of it. We were young, in our late twenties. It was the oil embargo of the late 70s. We had never been in a flood. Really, we were city kids trying our hand at country life.

The flood had been more severe earlier on in that property's history. Once We'd had our own flood, then we heard about it from a neighbor. It had taken off the top soil of our garden, that is why the soil was bad, the friend said. She rode cut horses. She was the one who herded the cattle out of my garden the day they broke down the fence. She wore cowboy boots and walked a little bowlegged. She took up pottery because of me and became my competitor. Eventual we were no longer friends.

Well, that has nothing to do with lost top soil. When the wind blows on the Palouse, the topsoil blows away. Top soil can't be replaced, well not in rolling hills of acreage that is. However, it can in a tiny plot like I have. I could have someone haul in topsoil. A neighbor said my current plot was scraped clean of topsoil because the lot was sloped and they scraped it from the top to the bottom to make it level. That explains why the bottom plots are so lush So topsoil—come hither. Come to me lover.

It's raining today. I'm still hacking, so even though my friend left potting soil on my plot, I won't be there to do anything about it. This is a day for resting.

Peace, Flower Power

Rock and Roll

A new friend of mine said he grew up in an era of rock and roll, sex, and drugs. I grew up during that time too, all that free love, all that weed and loud music. Now it is kava kava to sleep and the drug I'm always trying to kick—sugar, and the music Be Good Tanyas, Everything But the Girl, Shirley Elkhard, Diana Krall, Senate, etc. A little different than the Stones, Beatles, Crosby, Stills, and Nash, etc.

But the theme that we had then, back to the earth, be natural, etc, is still a worthy theme. Practicing organic gardening is a way to vitalize the soil and the food. Practicing recycling is a way to use less, so to pollute less. And of course we all have the new fangled light bulbs so we save on fuel; what is it, one bulb saves 800,000 cars of fuel a year. Is this really true, and if it is, why not participate?

And did you know that folks were never healthier than when sugar and white flour was rationed during WWII. Our weight problems can be attributed to excess empty calories. Like I said, sugar is the drug I'm always trying to kick. It was originally brought to the US for the rich. A fancy drug that was very expensive. Now we consume sugar in just about everything.

I didn't set out this morning to preach. The fact taht I'm recovering from a little cold could be attributed to the binge I went on: sugar and wheat and dairy over the weekend. I lost control—yes, there were three birthday parties and each had sweets; ah I love cake. I friend of mine once said, There is no better food than cake." Well, if it's made with whole ingredients and sweetened with stevia or date sugar. Huh, not the same as the pure stuff—but if you want to make changes you can try some of these things. A good cookbook for natural foods is A New Food,

Peace!

Flower Power

Sounds

The sound of crows, lazy at times, frantic at other times, calling from above the garden, flocked in the maple trees as I garden. When I was a child, the crows sat in the pines outside my window. To me there gulk gulk gulk sound was soothing. And still, it makes me laugh. Here I'm awakened by the sound of gulls, loud cries coming early in the morning, and the terns, which have a scratchy screechy cry, settling in over the water.

In the city and the country, there is the sound of the train whistle. Here in Fairhaven, the train, not far down the road wails musically, reflecting off the water in waves at times, and at other times it is forceful and obnoxious. I can stand in the garden and hear not only the whistle, but the rumble of the cars on the tracks. My first husband loved the train. He said everyone should ride the train because eventually folks won't be able to. Trains will go by the wayside. This isn't true, of course, as we can see more folks are riding the train than ever. He rode the train with his father across the U.S. from Spokane to New York. His father was a buyer for a department store. The rocking, the rumble, the whistle, the train-crossing bells, sleeping in the berths with all this going on, things he reminisced fondly of.

I picked up Walden this morning and opened the old copy to a highlighted section, the chapter title Sounds. Thoreau says "The whistle of the locomotive penetrates my woods summer and winter, sounding like the scream of a hawk sailing over some farmer's yard, informing me that many restless city merchants are arriving within the circle of the town, or adventurous country traders from the other side….Here come your groceries, country, your rations, countryman!"

I don't think of the train as moving goods, although the freight trains do, I think of it as a loud noise that wakes me in the night. But Henry is right, it is commerce at work. Noisy commerce. And when the train whistle comes in the night, the gulls and terns lift off, squawking. They are awakened too, and then they riot with discontent.

Well, this morning, a fall cold has me down in bed. There will be no gardening today, not much of anything in fact. Reading in bed, drinking tea, listening to the sounds of the village, sleeping. It is all good, this life.

Peace! Flower

You Have to Be Strong

When you're married, you have someone there with you who's strong, who picks up the pieces, who wraps an arm around you and says, It will be all right. When you're single, it can only be your friends and yourself. And some say spirit; however, I've never felt the arm of God around me. Figuratively, of course, but not physically. This is what I want, a tangible experience of Spirit and of man—eventually, that is. Many people say they are atheists, and although I can't say what is really there, I do know that the earth is there in abundance, enlivening everything. There has to be a force to make this happen. And then there is the old heart pumping away. How does this happen, this animation, without some great force making it all in the first place? These are questions that ring inside of me, waking me daily to the awe of life, reminding me to be full of joy. Here's a book I'm looking at by Julia Cameron

The garden is difinitely full of joy right now. Beautiful colorful flowers: zinnias, dahlias, sunflowers, cosmos, and glads shout with joy. I have a bouquet of dahlias in my kitchen right now. There are lovely shades of red and yellow and white. So full, plump petals vibrating with life. My sister likes to squeeze flowers and ooh over them. She is in the right profession, a wedding florist. I like to paint flowers, so much color, so much beauty.

Last night I saw Garrison Keillor at the Western Washington Auditorium. He was completely fabulous, such a professional. Such a talented man. Present, listening, making connections as the show unfolded. It was truly an enlivening experience. There was a outward expression of Spirit if I ever saw one. I was completely taken. Now I have a book to read and will enjoy every word of it. My friends Kelli Russell Agodon, Brenda Miller, and Nancy Pagh went with me. We had a blast.

Okay , then, must shower and get on with my day. Be happy and smell the flowers.

Flower

Mum’s the Word

I guess this means to keep quiet. Since I turned 20, I've been unable to keep quiet. I read a lot and felt free to pass on the information to whomever would listen. My brother once called me a walking encyclopedia. But think of it, it's developmental right, to gather information. Look at the two year old saying, "What's that? That? That? That?"

That is broccoli raab, that is a zebra striped tomato, that is an Italian prune, that is yellow hammer dahlia, that is candy corn, that is a big boy tomato. Yes, we have names for everything, perhaps more than enough names for everything but love. Well I'm leaping here, and I know there is platonic love and motherly love, unconditional love, sibling love, but there have to be more nuances than this. Love for a friend, love for a pet, love for nature, love of work. Perhaps there are more names for love than I know, but still, not like snow in far north. I love this concept of having hundreds of names for something.

When it comes to soil there is clay soil and peaty soil, hardpan, rocky soil, humus, compost, worm castings—huh, I think I'm on to something here. There is sandy soil, mica soil, red soil, rich soil. I'll have to look into this further. Remember Forest Gump's friend going on about shrimp this and shrimp that. Funny. So my soil is used-up soil. I'm thinking of this as a metaphor for my life and what do we do when something is depleted? Fortify. Improve the diet, add the nutrients, let things rest. Today I need rest, but there is not rest for the wicked. Today Garrison Keillor will be in town with his new novel Liberty: A Lake Wobegon Novel

I have a ticket to the show. Actually, I have more than one ticket and my friends and I will be having dinner and then going to see him at the Western Washington University. One of my friends had a poem read on air by Garrison from her book Small Knots. Kelli Russell Agodon is a fabulous poet and friend and choose my art for the cover. The book is beautiful.

Okay, I have to get going here, cleaning, cooking, showering—and by the way, what are some of the words for love that you know? And soil? Pass them on.

Flower

Testing the Soil

You can buy test kits and check your garden soil for acidity and alkalinity. I had a kit once, but I never tested the soil. And once I had a hydrangea that I experimented with, feeding it baking soda to turn the flowers purple rather than blue. The flowers on these lovely shrubs range from pink to blue to purple to green, depending on how acid or alkaline the soil is. If you have a lot of pine around, your soil may be more acid than alkaline This could determine how your garden grows. Oh, remember that poem, Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With cockle shells and may bells…

This reminds me, you can add sea weed to your garden. In Ireland the farmers haul buckets of seaweed to the fields. It improves the soil like crazy. We, the ex and I, did this with our last garden, only it is a very steep climb to the beach and back, so I believe it was only a couple of buckets that got delivered, so we couldn't really test the thesis. But if they have done it for centuries in Ireland and it works, they know the why of it all. Seems like there'd be too much salt it in and ruin the soil.

The grandbaby and I were at the beach the other day and he kept giving me handfuls of eel grass. I could have him amend the garden. Yes, tiny buckets of eel grass piled around the tomatoes. Ah, I must be too tired to write coherently. I went to two birthday parties today. It is late now, and I've had more cake than any one girl should eat. Well, any girl who wants to keep her girlish figure that is. I decided today that it wouldn't take very much time every day to really whip my garden plot in shape. This I'm saying at the end of the summer. But hey, remember I said you can winter garden. It all depends on how cold it gets, but it is worth a try. Helps with the winter blues too. At least that's what my friend Deb from http://www.rainyside.com/ says.

Okey dokey, have a good rest of the full moon and see you soon.

Peace, Flower Power

Two Birthdays and an Anniversary

In the fall, the garden dies, although some of the plants come back: rhubarb, herbs, horseradish, artichokes. And some reseed: sunflowers, lettuce, kale, tomatoes. That is if you let anything go to seed. I have had lots of kale reseed and potatoes I missed digging in the fall. And carrots come back, but they turn woody. In the fall, you can plant onions and garlic. I've heard that you can plant peas in the fall too, but have never tried that. Around here, it seems that they would rot. But I have some old seed, perhaps I'll throw it out in the garden and see what happens.

Right now the community garden is lush with sunflowers and dahlias the size of dinner plates. There are acorn squash littering one plot and beautiful corn another. And the plums are ripe, yippee—a drying opportunity.

Yesterday I picked several big boy tomatoes. And bought a bouquet from a sweet flower stand set up in front of a neighbor's house. It reminds me of the lemonade stands my sister and I used to have on Audubon Street across from Audubon Park. More my sister's project than mine. She was and still is the better entrepreneur of the two of us. Our father is an entrepreneur and it rubbed off. He has gardened on occasion and grew up in wheat country. His mother canned the prunes (Italian Plums) instead of drying them. Ooh, were they delicious.

Today is my daughter's birthday and the anniversary of my ex asking me for divorce. Need I say more? Holidays are important to me; I like to celebrate. It just so happens that all the bombs he dropped fell on holidays. That can't be by accident, as he's claimes. But now, I'm going to two parties, two lovely women celebrating birthdays. It's a beautiful sunny day, and I've moved on--that's the good part. There is power in moving on. It has to be this way—or one would go batty with grief. For finding meaning through the stages of grief see Elizabeth Kubler- Ross's book On Grief and Grieving

Yesteday my friend Brenda and I made Soul Cards to mark the this transition--turning away from divorce and focusing on the rest of my life. We also had a great meal and then went on a walk around the harbor. There a row of ragossa rose sports bright red rose hips, which I love. I ate a couple and when Brenda tried them, groaned and spat it out. Really, they are high in vitamins C and make great preserves. Try it. Delicious. And, the sunset and full moon: divine.

Okay then, off to the garden. And for all of you out there that are weeding your inner garden, love yourself to pieces. It's what the world needs more of—wasn't that a song?

Flower

True North

The farther north you go the more angular the light becomes and the less light you absorb into the body, and the body suffers. This isn't a scientific discussion, but it is important to consider, perhaps read up on light and the body. Light is as important for the body as it is for plants. Here's a book that might shed some light (pardon the pun) on it: Health and Light: The Effects of Natural and Artificial Light on Man and Other Living Things

I wonder why we think that energies effecting life on the planet, don't touch us. The planetary energies come in sounds and magnetic waves and heat waves and light waves--and other waves I don't know much about. The tides come and go—this is a huge thing. Barometric pressure changes—there's high pressure and low pressure. Anyway, what I'm trying to say this morning is everything is connected. Humans aren't separate from nature. We are nature and as we interact, things change, come and go, flourish and fade.

This morning I couldn't find my journal and so I opened an old journal to an entry dated 2005. I was in graduate school and working hard. My marriage was failing. I'd decided I needed time off from my marriage and lived separate, taking to heart the theory of the marriage sabbatical being a good thing. It is hard to believe that it has taken three years to dissolve this union. But then, it was a long marriage. Twenty-two years total. Well, even numbers have meaning and perhaps energy—if you've ever looked at numerology, you can discover a lot about the number you were born with, the year you are in, etc. Twenty-two is what they call a master number. I'm actually not sure what 22 means, yet, somehow having the total number of years married be 22 seems significant. Anyway, I digress.

What I mean to say here is that our planet needs us. Our earth needs us to be in harmony with her. Our gardens are important. How we treat the soil is important. There is a balance that must be found and when we are in balance, we are happy. I seek this balance. And in the garden, the tomatoes are ripening and things are bending toward the ground, heavy with fruit. And the leaves are turning orange and red. Things are overgrown in places, twisted and dying. All of it is good, it is the moon cycle. All sprouts, flourishes and goes back to nothing, and then it all starts over.

Be happy and flourish,
Flower

Full Moon In Pisces

The full moon is opposite the sun in the sky Sunday—the sun is in Virgo—anyone having the urge to clean and organize? And with the moon is in Pisces—anyone feeling emotional, vulnerable, spiritual? And Jupiter is close to the moon in the sky. I heard that the moons of Jupiter can be seen through binoculars at night. Jupiter's energy is expansive and with its relationship to the moon at the moment, we could be asking ourselves how we can expand our belief systems—could we stand in the shoes of another? I'm trying this very thing with the ex. However his shoes are confusing. Today, until 7 pm, you can download from Oprah.com the book Why Men Cheat I downloaded the book. I'm curious. Maybe it will give me the answers.

Okay then, the grandbaby is here. He wants to look at the "putter", so more later.

Flower

Cozy Blanket

Have you ever seen blankets thrown over plants so the frost won't kill them? How about raincoats, or umbrellas. How about plastic? I made a little shelter for my tomatoes at my last house. I tented them by taking the plastic to the house and then A-framing it out to the ground, keeping the rain off the tomatoes made it so I had tomatoes until November. Of course, this is the PNW and the frost doesn't come until late, November or December. Some winters it never comes. Some we get the 20 below like other places. Like Spokane, growing up 30 below wasn't uncommon. When the ground freezes deeply, it is hard on the plants. But still I managed to have winter carrots, it just took a lot of cover to keep the ground from freezing.

Now this week it's supposed to be in the upper 70s all week. Maybe we are having an Indian summer. The nights are cool, the air coming in the window smelling a bit of wood smoke. That's one of the delicious things about fall—a bit of wood smoke in the air. When I went to Taos to Natalie Goldberg's writing workshop, it was Pinion smoke in the air, very fragrant and lovely. I enjoyed it completely. And around here, fir or spruce or cedar, and sometimes pine. Pine burns fast as does cedar. I love having a wood stove to heat the house in the winter.

Okay, the garden is resting. I'm resting. I realized at 3 in the morning that I'm pushing myself. Perhaps I've approached the garden that way too. How can I push the garden? Well folks do push plants, with green houses, hot frames, heated soil, plastic to warm the plants, those water heated tomato tubes. But pushing is exhausting. Letting things unfold is better, just set course and see what happens. What else is there?

This morning I'm writing in bed, my cozy throw wrapped around my shoulders. I've decided lingering is a good attitude for me as I heal from this divorce. Just relax and enjoy—things will be moving along again in no time. Might as well enjoy the down time. As for the garden, my shovel is waiting.

Peace,
Flower

Quilts & Potatoes

I always thought the Palouse looked like a giant quilt, all those plowed fields, fallow dirt next to squares of spring wheat. A patchwork of greens and browns and the little strips of unfarmable land, sagebrush covered—a lovely sage green. The community garden is a patchwork, too. Not as lovely from a distance, in fact somewhat homely with the netting and posts and garden art, a garage sale of plants. But up close, it is beautiful. The colors and scents delicious. Once an art teacher said to me, paint dead leaves. I was painting all these swirling, twisting leaves at the time. So I tried it, sketching the curled and dried leaves of the tomato plants, the twists of corn silk on the aging ears of corn, the sunflowers, with their huge leaves browning and curling. The airbrush painting ended up printed in a herb magazine. To me it looks like tobacco hanging to dry in a North Carolina barn.

I lived in North Carolina for a couple of months. Ended up in Boone where I worked as a key-punch operator in a college computer office. All that big equipment that took up several rooms we now have stored in little boxes, laptops, etc. Amazing. Anyway, the neighbors had a garden in the yard between our rental house and their home. One day the used the pitchfork and pulled out spuds the size of grapefruit. It was amazing to see. I remember those potatoes like it was yesterday. Mashing them, making the little mound on the plate with the spoon indentation, a lake for gravy. All those delicious potatoes.

If you grow potatoes, it will be time to dig them and let them air dry. Clean off the dirt with a brush or rag and store them in a bag in the cupboard or basement. They need to be dry and dark. Light makes them sprout and also makes them turn green. I've grown many different varieties of potatoes—yellow fin, red potatoes, and the regular Idaho Spud. My mother once said she picked potatoes when she was a kid. I said you don't pick potatoes, you dig them. She looked at me very indignantly, she had a way of doing that, we picked them she said—off the ground, they'd been turned up by the tractor. Oh, I see. I imagine the field and my mother and her sister and brothers, picking potatoes in the hot fall sun.

I'm thinking of potato salad, potato pancakes, baked potatoes, French fries, potato puffels, potato soufflé. hash browns. Here's a book of spud recipes that looks interesting- More Than Mashed

Flower Power

Thanks For the Memories

It feels a little nostalgic to turn the garden under in the fall. I used to wait for the first frost and then pick all the squash and cover the carrots with leaves. That was in Spokane, a different climate than the PNW. Concord grapes were better after the first frost. Sweeter. Jack and would pick the two rows that formed the walkway to the house. The grapes overflowed the wheelbarrow many times. We gave some away and I would make grape juice with the rest. Someone told me how to fill the jar with grapes, add some sugar syrup and hot bath the jars. That was it. Grape juice. You could also use a juicer and hot bath the juice. There probably has to be some lemon in there for the proper citric acid level. That is important in canning. If you've never canned, the jars glistening on the counter, their tops popping as they seal, you don't know what a good feeling it brings to the heart. A feeling of security, I think. Especially when the fruit cellar is filled with jars. All that food there to feed the family throughout the winter. And the wood stacked high for the woodstove. Good and secure.

I had a friend once who said she was freaked out by having too much food in her house. I had cupboards full of food. Cans of tomato sauce and soup and olives. When I cooked a meal, I had the ingredients, usually. So part came from the garden and part from the cupboard. When I went back to the land in the 70s, I hoped I could have everything come from my mini-farm. It didn't, but I did well with all the canning, etc. One thing about this type of lifestyle, is it takes time. And we don't have as much time now to do homey things these days. Lots of folks aren't at home in the same way. This makes me sad. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I love the idea of milling about the house and yard and making a home. I'm sad to not have that now. It's hard to make a condo. I'm going to move. I decided that in the night—I've decided it other nights too. This is how it goes being a divorcee. Deciding and then being unable to know how to get to where I want to go. Then I feel nauseous. Urgh!

To put the garden to bed, layer it with the compost you've been making all summer. You can grow a cover crop. Many people think this is a good way to amend soil. I doubt I will sow a cover crop, more than likely I'll find someone to haul manure for me. Next year the garden will produce. This year, well, at least I'm eating tomatoes and greens. And I get to chat with the other gardeners. All of this is good.

Flower

Kandinsky

My garden looks like a Kandinsky painting, with the cosmos and the calendula, bright masses of yellow and pink backed by the neighbors sunflowers, and the sun low in the sky, shading the western part of the garden, brightening a mass of dahlias. A good book for a look at the lovely chaos of avant-garde color see Theme and Improvisation: Kandinsky and American Avant-Garde

A chaotic garden. Chaos, the theory is that it will make sense at some point, that things, be they objects, natural elements, feelings, will make sense at some point. Where is that point, a distant point in space perhaps? From space the patterns are obvious, in my bedroom, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the chaos inside, nothing is obvious, everything is a wind storm blowing away the last petals of a lifetime.

Ah, the plums, they hang like flesh, and the tomatoes, so plump and soon ripe. Ah, I'm so poetic this morning. More rested in my own bed. This is good and the cat, he's mad because I left him—although I have a cat sitter, but when she doesn't stay here at my place, he gets into mischief. He pulled things out of the closet and knocked over a plant and the lamp. Nothing damaged, but he was indignant when I asked him why he'd made such a mess. Such chaos. He said he was mad because I was gone for too long time. It was no longer than before, I argued, but he wouldn't listen.

This morning the grandbaby comes for the day. I haven't spent much time with him in awhile, so am excited to see the little dickens. He has food intolerances and is being tested this week for wheat, oats and eggs. They want him off eggs for now and he can't have lactose. He has more allergies than I have. Another reason to eat well from the garden. Eat good food, stay away from sugar and white flour. Everyone knows that. During the war when they rationed sugar and they couldn't afford to bleach the flour, everyone grew healthier. Huh! It didn't stick.

Okay, happy day and happy garden and don't worry about the chaos.
Flower

Plums

The plums are luscious. So many on the stem right now at the community garden that the branches are practically bending to the ground. I actually ate a few while there earlier. It will be only a matter of weeks before I can pick enough to dry. I had a neighbor in Yakima who made a sweet plum dessert. She was German and it was one of her family recipes. The plums were sliced in two and set on top of cake batter. I imagine brown sugar and cinnamon and butter crumbled over the plums. When the whole thing was done, powder sugar was sifted over the plum cake. Very good. Very much a fallish dessert. For more recipes see Peaches, Pears and Plums:40 Recipes for Fine Dining At Home

Also in the garden, the sunflowers are full of seeds and the birds are flocking to them. I grew the giant sunflowers in my Yakima garden and when the birds came in the fall, it felt good to see them there they, eating at their natural bird feeders. The birds are also gleaning seeds from cones now. In the fall they move through the trees, chattering away. So sweet and soothing, all those tiny birds eating and chattering away.

On the island, we had a herd of deer in the meadow beyond our cabin. They were gleaning from the apple trees. At the farmer's market, the smell of fruit and vegetables is sweet and tangy. Many baskets of blueberries and tomatoes. At my garden, I discovered something I haven't seen before. One of the stems of the tomato plant rooted where it touched down to the ground. I know you can plant a tomato deeply and it will root along the stem, but I'd never seen it happen on its own.

Okay, then. Tomorrow, try putting in a fall crop. For many of you, it's not too late. For others, you may be getting frosted soon. Then there will be other things to do in the garden, like pick all those pumpkins and squash.

Best in gardening,
Flower

Mt. Lake

On Orcas Island there is a mountain that overlooks the sound and the other San Juan Islands. I haven't been to the top of the mountian in over 20 years. I believe the last time I was there I was with my ex. Now I'm contemplating driving up there and leaving something behind, a act of completion of my marriage. I honeymoon was on this island. I have no idea what the symbol would be--something representing the marriage, the growth, the pain, the learning.

Now I'm in town at the Sunflower Cafe eating crab cakes. I'm contemplating gardens, since there is such a pretty one outside this cafe. Mine isn't doing well; it needs kind tending as I do. The garden here in Eastsound has no sunflowers, however, it does have lovely yellow roses. A rose is a symbol for love. I could take a rose up to the mountain top.

I find it interesting how things come around. How dates jive, how coincidences seem to say, this is a correct move. In divorce, there is a lot of hurt. I was hoping the divorce wouldn't be so painful, that there could be a concern for each other even in the unraveling of the institution. That hasn't happened. There has been more pain caused by ongoing attacks--all because of grave hurt, I'm imagining.

Here at the Orcas Writer's Festival, Sam Green, the Washington Poet Laurate read a love poem for his wife. I've heard it before and hope that some day I will be loved and love like that. So my wish is for great love to be had by everyone, and the hope that all will experience it once in a lifetime.

Flower

One Cop Island

Here on Orcas there is only one policeman. That's what I overheard in the coffee shop in Eastsound. And the crimes on the island, basically stuff getting stolen out of cars. The cars don't get stolen, as there is no place to go on the island. Interesting. Perhaps if there is no place to go, we would all be better off. I think that works with highly charged emotional states as well.

Whenever I go to a new town, I contemplate living there. I imagine living on a small island; if I had a falling out with someone, then I'd have to not look at them, or be like Seinfeld when he greets Newman, say "Hello, so-and-so" with disgust. There would always be a discomfort there for me, because I want to like everyone and I want everyone to like me. But that's not the case. My ex doesn't like me—and hasn't for a very long time. I'll just sleep a lot, and then it will be better. If you've read the book Eat Pray Love you will know that one way to deal with grief is to eat. Another is to pray, another is to love. I'm doing the first two right now. And I think there is another necessary element in healing from grief. Sleep.

I'm staying at Moran State Park through Sunday, teaching at a writing conference. It is very quiet and very dark. Something I need after all the noise of Fairhaven, the trains, the trucks, the folks yukking it up at 1 in the morning, straight from the tavern. Here at the park the deer graze in the field. And this morning, crows were grazing too. The smell of the sea is in the air. There is a pace that is slower, relaxing. That is good, I think. A slower pace is good.

Here the gardens are fairly lush. The rain shadow, which is the Olympic mountains splits the clouds and the rain goes around. This probably isn't exactly what happens, but it's my interpretation. Blueberries are a big crop here too, as are wine grapes. I wonder how they keep the deer out of the fields. So many deer.

Well, I'm at a coffee shop and won't be here long, since I teach again at one. So until next time, get some rest and I will too.

Best regards, Flower

Trust

To be a farmer takes trust. You never know when a late frost will hit or a blight, or a long cold spring and then an early fall. This year, I think it's the long cold spring and the early fall that is a real thing. Folks are overheard saying, "What, it just got here three weeks ago." That's summer in the NW. Well at least this year, for there have been others when it is just one sunny day after another, and then people complain about that. I'm wondering why we complain about things, after all, our lives are mostly good. I knew this woman who taught folks about being in the present moment. She said, as I was worrying aloud, is there anything wrong right now. And there wasn't. Nothing was happening in the moment that was life threatening or bad in anyway. Of course, this wouldn't include every moment, but many during the day and the night are just okay, good even. So I'd like to be aware of that more of the time, that there is good in the moment, or at least, there isn't anything wrong with this moment.

I'm sitting on my bed with my cat listening to violin music. Very beautiful. There is a completely cool breeze coming in the window. A whiff of wood smoke, yes, really. And tomorrow I'll go to Orcas Island to teach writing. It's not like teaching someone to make a quilt, or even to blend oil on a canvas. Some things are more tangible than others. With writing there are always those moments that come clear, but usually they come to one after having heard the instructions over and over and over, such as show don't tell. Or write what you know.

Anyway, we can be happy, yes we can. We can feel the love that is there. We can be in the moment, just listening to the sounds of the day, the traffic, the birds. It's all that there is, right?

Caio! Flower.

Virgo New Moon

I like to follow the new moons, full moons, balsamic moons. We just had a new moon last Saturday. Interesting it was the day I moved my final belongings from my marriage house to storage. The new moon signifies a new beginning. Even if one is working on an on-going project, the new moon could be a recommitment, or a new phase of the project set in place. It could be a plan for the next step of the garden. It could be a planting for the fall. It could be the beginning of a new life.

When the moon phase reaches the full moon, this means whatever your project is, you should be seeing it at a more complete stage now and once again, reevaluate—is it going in the right direction? If not, tweak it so it does. There is a great book I read monthly called <a type="amzn"> New Moon Astrology</a> by Jan Spiller. You can make ten wishes each month. Write them in a journal and check back later, perhaps after six months and see what has come to fruition. It completely works.

Now in the garden, some swear by planting by the moon. The Farmers Almanac will tell you what to plant when. I have never done this, but my ex swore by it. He also swore by haircuts on the new moon. I went to cosmetology school, sounds like something in the cosmos, some galaxy, and no one ever said cut the bob on a full moon, a flippy bang on a new moon, on the balsamic do a tint, and when the void of course is for bleaching. No, we just did what came our way. As we do with the garden. And life.

If you want to plant a cover crop, you might try winter rye. Be sure to turn it in before it goes to seed. And if you want to amend the soil, you can use the manure and leaves and blood meal, or you can use my friends technique, lasagna—which is putting a little bit of everything in the garden, recycling paper, food scraps, leaves, manure, cardboard, etc. Worms love it. It works.

All for now,

Flower

Blackberries

Yesterday while walking with friends through the off-leash dog park and on along the rails bordering the waterfront, we stopped and picked blackberries. Blackberries brought to this part of the country from overseas. Not the native variety, which grow close to the ground and have a berry the size of a child's thimble, but the fat blackberries the size of a an adult thimble. They were sweet and juicy, drippy. Eating them caused us to talk about picking blueberries—they are ripe now and easy to pick because they are abundant on the bushes. And then huckleberries, ripe soon in the mountains. My first husband and I would ride the Bridgestone from Hill's Resort at Priest Lake into the mountains and pick coffee cans full of berries. We could sell them to the resort for the pies they made for the customers. One woman who lived nearby and worked at the resort was the best pie baker of all the hired help—although I came in a close second. I could make a flaky crust as delicate as a grandmother's. I was only 20 at the time, or perhaps 19, as I married young.

A friend of mine said to me after I'd told her my parents had both been married four times, that they must have really believed in marriage. I thought about "believing" in marriage and decided it wasn't a belief, at least not a personal belief, like a belief in God, but a cultural more. You got married—and had a family. That is what you did. And when my mother was young, perhaps also 19, she was to have a marriage or what? live at the base with my grandmother and aunt and keep house, maybe bake pies while Grandpa was off being a Colonel or whatever he was. So marriage is like having a job, you just do it. It's an organizational solution for the population. And of course, a procreation solution.

In the garden, you can marry plants. They are called companion plants, marigolds alongside lettuce to keep away the slugs, onions next to tomatoes to keep away small flies, nasturiums next ot cabbage, potatoes and beans. For more about this subject see Carrots Love Tomatoes Another way to marry plants is to graft one plant to another. This can be done with fruit trees. I have never done it but studied closely the diagrams. I'm pretty sure that if I tried it, all I'd have is a wounded plant and a dead graft. Well perhaps a peruse through Grafting and Budding might help. And hopefully this isn't my secret view of marriage. I'm sure it's not. Marriage is a good thing. And I hope that someday I'll have a partner again. I like how partners can work together, support each other, care and concern is there, love. Well, not always, but ideally.

Best companion,
Flower

Pancakes

Since I'm gluten-intolerant, I've developed many recipes that are tasty and easy to make using rice flour. The rice waffle is one of my favorites and this time of year the blackberries and blueberries can be used as a syrup or mixed into the batter and, viola—delicious, flavorful cakes for a Sunday morning breakfast. Sunshine coming through the window, a pot of coffee, a plate of waffles, perhaps some farm fresh eggs, and we're in like flin—fine dining. Oh, the recipe. I cup rice flour, 1 egg, 1 tbl. Baking powder, 1/4 cup Melted butter, a pinch of salt, milk or soy milk to make the batter the right consistency—approximately ½ cup. Don't stir much, barely in fact, so the rice flour will stay tender. If you want to mix in berries, toss ½ cup berries in a bit of flour first. I don't use sugar in my recipe because the flour is sweet and if you use maple syrup, another sweet. Ahhhh! Now I'm hungry. This recipe can also be made into pancakes. Try very thin slices of apple mixed in the batter. Always use real maple syrup.

So this is Labor Day. This was the weekend we moved into the condo. A honeymoon getaway to recharge our marriage. It was a year ago on the following weekend that I was asked for a divorce. So a year later, things are pretty tied up. It took longer all together, the demise of this union. It started back in 2003—when I knew I'd have to move on. Five years—that seems too long, but there was therapy in there and graduate school, and unexpected developments. Marriages like gardens have to be examined carefully to discover the real problem. Perhaps a year off is a good thing. In the bookThe Marriage Sabbatical the author says that women rarely get to take time away from their marriages without everyone thinking, oh the poor husband. He'll be lonely and therefore will cheat while she's gone. Whereas, if the man goes off on a business trip or is transferred to another town, everyone expects the wife to hold down the fort, they never say to the man, won't she cheat, she'll be lonely. It is an interesting book exploring women and retreat time.

Moving on: clean out closets, turn over garden, get the rugs cleaned, eat better, cry more, focus on your work. Well it is all good. All of it. My sister says she just thinks of everything as a blessing. Even when she lost her son two years ago. Me, I'm a little more callused and bitter. I'm emotional to a fault. I just can't help it—or perhaps I can. Perhaps like the garden, I could mend my soil. I could water myself more frequently, I could put more space between the rows. I'm not sure at this point. Everything is too new. Everything is different once again. I'll be at meditation at noon today watching my mind.

Happy happy,
Flower