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

Putting Food By

There is this great book, Putting Food By that will help you with stocking your larder with a cornucopia of garden delights. From this book you will learn how to pickle and can and dry and salt, etc. It’s a must for anyone who wants a kitchen that feeds the family all winter long. When I lived in Yakima there was such an abundance of fruit from roadside stands, seconds that were cheap. Big old peaches with lumpy spines, misshapen tomatoes, gangly cukes, and cherries that are usually only processed for ice cream (nearly as large as plums and sweeter than any cherry you’ve ever eaten), all for ridiculously low prices. I canned rack after rack of sparkling jars, brilliant peaches soaked in brandy, beets pickled in brine and sugar, pears, prunes, & dill pickles. All of the jars were stowed away in the cupboard next to the stove, a lovely sight to see.
Feeding the family in the 70s tailed the back-to-the land movement, brown rice and hand ground wheat berries, home grown vegetables and chickens in the yard. Wheat bread rising in a bowl on the counter and trays of cherries and tomatoes drying on screens in the sun. It wasn’t easy work. There was the goat to milk first—just after Jack went off to the golf course to tend the greens and the baby was still asleep—irrigation systems whooshing across the valley while I nuzzled my face into my Nubian’s wide side, smelling her lovely goatiness. She gave a gallon of milk a day, milk both my daughter and husband drank. I wasn’t fond of it, and it hasn’t been until lately that I’ve been willing to explore the creamy goat cheeses on the market. Pretty good.
Putting Food By became my summer Bible. I combed through that book daily during the growing season. It is still part of my collection—stained and spine-broken—although it has been a long time since I’ve canned. I may never can again, as it does take strength to lift boxes of fruit and racks of hot canning jars. And it takes time, all the boiling of jars, paring fruit, boiling syrup and brine. It’s worth it for many folks. Me, I’ll just buy fresh fruit year around at the co-op.
Ciao!