A Colored Egg Hunt

The long-awaited day arrived...probably a few days ago. We've been waiting for Gwen and Isadora, (our hens) who have been roaming the garden for months now. They have come of age, but there have been no eggs to be found.

Gwen did a disappearing act this morning, which was curious. She was nowhere to be found in the yard or the garden until after 11. Did she hop the fence? Did a hawk have her for breakfast? No, she just mysteriously disappeared.

I suspected she had found a place to lay, but it was not in the nest box I built into the chicken tractor and lined so carefully with oat straw. This afternoon I went in search of the elusive eggs.

I suspected a large growth of Pampas Grass at the back corner of the garden, crowded up to the fence. I tried one approach and found only minor indentations into the body of the planting. On the other side, I inched my way along the fence, past the saw-toothed blades and spotted a path that tunneled into the dense foliage. When I stretched my neck and peered into the tunnel...there they were! Ten perfect light blue eggs in a cozy bed of brown Pampas straw. (Let me explain...our chickens are Americanas...they lay beautiful blue eggs)

I am so proud! And so happy. I am high on the wonder of life in it's natural state. Who cares that they don't like my nest boxes. This is what I wanted from my bug control program.

I've been grinning ever since the marvelous find, and cannot wait for tomorrow morning's breakfast.

Edible Flowers

While vegetable production has slowed to a trickle, flowers continue to produce. Zinnias proudly display their deep gold and bold orange petals, marigolds are enjoying the cool weather, and impatiens, in all their colors, continue to bloom.

But it was the hyacinth bean vine that caught my attention this morning, still spreading it's limbs on the goat wire fence. The blossoms are small, but rich in color, and...they are edible! I tasted one...tender, of course, with a full flavored snap bean taste. They will grace salad at dinner tonight.

An amazing number of flowers exist that enhance a dinner plate. Herbs are an obvious choice...chives, basil, lavender...thyme, dill, and cilantro as well. Less obvious are day lilies, (tasting like sweet lettuce or melon) marigolds, (which vary from tangy to peppery) apple blossoms and squash blossoms. And then there is my hyacinth bean...

I'm not an expert cook, so I offer no advice as to how to use them, other than to match them for sight and taste with dishes which seem appropriate to you.

Something there is about eating flowers...a fuller sense of beauty, perhaps...a satisfaction most complete.

The Thing with Okra is...

I have my favorites in the garden, but even the ones I do not favor at the table, I do appreciate. Okra is one of those. I am not southern, and have yet to develop a taste for it.

But as I tour the garden, I find so many things to appreciate, including okra. This morning these words found their way to a page.

The Story of Life in Okra

they stand tall in rows

plumb and evenly spaced

like pine planted decades ago

on a scale of their own

they've grown tall and erect

masai warriors standing sentinel

one faded blossom still remains

some tiny pods

that never will mature

their many hands of green

are tinted light and deeply dark,

some still and brown on slender falling branches

i dislike the taste of okra

slimy and southern as it is

but i listen carefully to it's telling of life's story.

A further endearing piece of information just came to me...it is sibling to cotton, cocoa, and hibiscus.

A Tour of the Garden

At 6 each morning the crowing begins. At about 7:30 I pull on my wellingtons and foray outside to let the chickens loose and spread some laying mash. (it has just become apparent that two of the four 'hens' we bought are roosters, and that will not do, so a change is in the offing)

This also my prime time for touring the garden, fresh with dew, and today...splashed with sunlight. Though not a lot changes from day to day, this time is special for me. It's part of waking and knowing again that the world is right, that tiny seeds grow to be flourishing plants producing fruit and flowers. Time to touch the earth-foundation of life and know that my being, along with all that exists is unshakable.

This morning I found a number of things that pleased me. Purple cabbages and brussel sprouts look promising. Salad greens and swiss chard stay with us, plenty enough for table fare. Hyacinth bean vine begins to color the fence and squash plants are fading gracefully. But I am especially pleased with peppers-both sweet and hot. They continue to grow to maturity. And, oh...the taste!

I love touring my garden in the morning, I do!

Pansies...and Hope

I sat in the pure autumn sun this afternoon and watched a gardener planting pansies. Her pace was without hurry as she carefully removed the plants from the flat and laid them on the ground. She was likewise meticulous as she troweled holes for the plants, slipped them in place, adjusted them so that they sat just right, and then pressed the earth around them.

Her movements telegraphed that she was clearly enjoying the warmth of the sun, the beauty of the day, the vitality of fall flowers, and the feel of earth sifting through her fingers.

To me, it was a picture of hope. Hope...just a few stepping stones away from happiness.

The Days are Shorter

Horus crowed this morning at his usual time...6 am. Horus is our rooster that was supposed to be a hen. We named him Isis to start with, but when the crowing started, it seemed a name change was in order. As it was still dark at 6, I waited an hour before going out in the morning mist to open the door of the chicken tractor.

A little cracked corn and laying mash for the chickens, then I toured the garden, pondering the relative shortness of the days, and how this phase of gardening is decidedly different, but also good.



Quiet. It is very quiet these mornings; not so much birdsong now. And the growing has surely slowed. (sometimes it almost seems like I hear the whisper of growing) Not so much to do, either. Yes, I'll take some partially rotted compost and spread it on the vacant beds later, but it is more a time to be than a time to do. It's a season I can be content with.


These lyrics by The Byrds referencing Song of Songs came to mind, especially the ones I have made bold.



Turn! Turn! Turn!
To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to be born, a time to die.
A time to plant, a time to reap.
A time to kill, a time to heal.
A time to laugh, a time to weep.

To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to build up, a time to break down.
A time to dance, a time to mourn.
A time to cast away stones.
A time to gather stones together.

To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time of love, a time of hate.
A time of war, a time of peace.
A time you may embrace.
A time to refrain from embracing.

To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to gain, a time to lose.
A time to rend, a time to sow.
A time for love, a time for hate.
A time for peace, I swear it's not too late.

The Pleasure of Order

I understand why Japanese gardeners take such pleasure in their formal gardens, fastidious as they are to the smallest detail. There's something about order that feels good. Even the process of getting things in order, though it takes effort, has a pleasant feeling about it.

While I am not a person who pays attention to minute detail, I like it very much when I achieve order in some area of my life. This morning I found it in the back bed of the garden.

Unsightly it was...and neglected. More exhausted Roma tomato plants languishing, long since detached from their supports. Half rotted zucchini that hadn't produced much at all due to a mosaic virus. The ruins of a section of rustic fence, (compliments of a now no longer shadowing us Bradford Pear tree) more ruins from a hastily put together lean-to trellis for the zucchini. (they never climbed)

An hour of my time, pleasantly spent, uncovered onions waiting to season dinner, a few swiss chard plants, marigolds for color, and three still vigorously producing jalapeno pepper plants.

The compost pile has been fed. A new growing season suddenly seems not so far away. It looks good...and I feel good!

In an Undesired Place

A weed is just a plant in a place you don't want it. Oh, the weed might not look so good. More to the point, it might rob the plants I do want of light or nutrition.

Yesterday afternoon the rain slowed enough for me to tour the garden and notice the growth of some of those unwanted plants. They were flourishing! And since I do want my fall planting to have every advantage possible, I did some weeding. It was a bit muddy, but a lot easier to get the weeds out by the root with the soil thoroughly moist. And my digging tool loosened them with ease.

I have somewhat of a divided mind about weeds. Some of what most people term weeds can be spectacularly beautiful. I have chosen to let most of the open area on our property to grow wildly, and I'm happy with the result. A spring weed that I love is the dandelion. Such a cheerful weed...and fun! Not to mention dandelion greens and wine.

Ribwort Plantain is another 'weed' that I have come to appreciate. This summer, in the process of doing some clearing, I disturbed a nest of bees that loved the black shirt I was wearing, and delivered a number of very nasty stings. My girlfriend went out to the yard, plucked some plantain, made a poultice, and welcome relief followed as I applied it.

More about natural foods, good food et al at my girlfriend's blog: 
Healthy, Delicious, Cheap and Easy

Back to being of two minds about weeds. I don't go weed extermination crazy, and never with chemicals. I do, however enjoy the quiet process of removing those plants that hinder my goal of growing hyacinth bean vines, purple cabbages, summer squash (still growing) with a few carrots sprinkled in. (OK...I'm the spontaneous kind of gardener, not the organized kind)

Trampled...

The rain stopped for a while yesterday afternoon, so I took the last two pots of brussel sprout seedlings that were hanging around and put them in a small bed that had hosted (now exhausted) Roma tomatoes. The seedlings were not all that robust, and I'm not sure if they will mature this late in the season, but it felt good to plant again.

My planting caught the interest of the chickens, of course, requiring a bit of shooing. But Gwendolyn and Magdalena were persistant. They had to check out the planting in detail.  I love the bug control they bring to the garden, their soft chicken language, and their ungainly sprints from one side of the garden to the other. And though they do not really eat plants often, they do trample. Boy, do they trample!

No sooner had I turned my back to find netting to protect the bed, than the two of them were pecking and scratching...and trampling. Just being chickens, I guess, but it makes me wonder how often I trample what is being born in those around me, even in myself.

The good news this morning? After more rain during the night, the plants are looking fine. Thank God new life is so insistant!

The Spiritual Gardener

Way back to Eden, Spirit and Garden have been inseparable. I grew up in a religious family that always had a large garden, but I did not experience the link of garden and Spirit there. I've always been fascinated by Zen gardens, perhaps because of the spiritual dimension, though I have had no desire to create one.

This spring, I gazed on an enclosed and mostly sunny fenced-in area (that used to be a paddock) at our new country home, began thinking garden, planning garden and eventually tilling, planting, tending and harvesting. In the process, gardening became spiritual practice for me.

It was not that I planned the garden to be a place for meditation or prayer, but that I found a still place there, a place to know myself anew.

Don't get me wrong...I was very intent on creating a garden both beautiful and productive. It was bigger than just that, big enough to hold the mystery of my life and the magic of creation.

I'll be pleased when you join me on my backyard journey. We'll see where the Spirit takes us...and savor the fruit we harvest.