VARIOUS AND SUNDRY

Days go along, mostly like any other day.  The mundane presents itself, but always, if one is alert and open, the little things show just how big they are.

 
Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the beauty of the bread....

Lifting the lid on my water barrel the other day, revealed this tiny frog, not even an inch long....

Yes, these are (were) in my kitchen garden...

absolutely delicious....

I have never been successful in growing begonias, that is until now...

I believe I have found just the right location.

There are times when our surroundings simply pass before our eyes and make no impression in our mind, but there is profound beauty always before us.

IT'S ALL ABOUT FOOD

My garden is growing well, I think.  The tomatoes seem behind, as we have not had many hot days, but the cucumbers are on and providing a daily delight.

One of my favorite summer sandwiches...Garlic/feta spread and spread thickly on each side of the bagel, thick sliced cucumber, fresh dill weed, lettuce from the garden...a wonderful combination of flavors, and simplicity itself.

(This spread is beyond delicious:  8 oz. feta, 8 oz. cream cheese, (both Organic Valley), 1/3 c. mayo, 1 tsp. dried oregano, 1 tsp. dried basil, 1 tsp. fresh dill weed, 1 large garlic glove diced, a touch of dried thyme.  Mix thoroughly altogether.  Use on crackers, bread, veggies, or in sandwiches.)

I have been trying to use up my frozen vegetables from last year, and below is the last package of broccoli..

saute broccoli in olive oil with onions and garlic...top with fresh farm eggs, let cook covered until set, shred some OV cheese on top...serve with crusty bread to dip in the egg!

When I was growing up my father loved and was expert at grilling out.  The women never did the grilling so this was never part of my 'inner cook'.  However, unlike most men who like to grill out, Freddie does not, and after years of trying to get him interested, I decided to do it myself, and I am so glad that I did.  I love grilling out!  I do a great deal of it during this weeks...standing on the deck, watching and turning the food, trying new things, and sipping a glass of wine.  Now this is a great scene.

I do not eat a great deal of red meat, but Italian sausage is something I do love...thanks to my growing up years.

...grilled Italian sausage, asparagus brushed with olive oil and sprinkled with garlic powder, potatoes marinated in olive oil, garlic powder, oregano, garlic scape, and a small cherry tomato salad...

I rarely eat hamburg, but my neighbor Karen raises organic beef, Little Creek Farm, and it is truly delicious.

Karen's beef burgers, again the potatoes, asparagus, and this time, grilled tomatoes and small whole fresh zucchini..

As the strawberry season was so prolific, I did many things with the harvest, among them

strawberry turnovers with from scratch buttery layered crust

On another note, I am making BBQ'd Pulled Chicken for a fund raiser for the local library expansion project.  These sandwiches will be sold at the 4th of July Celebration...

onions, garlic, spices, sauteed, and then ketchup, tomato paste, vinegar, molasses, among other things added...placed into a crock pot (actually two)

with eighteen three bone-in breasts and twenty-three bone-in thighs with a leg or two, cooked on low for 6-7 hours

then chicken skinned and removed from the bone and shredded

this makes a mighty delicious sandwich.  Come to the 4th celebration in La Farge, I'll buy you one!!

LIFTING MY SPIRITS

Sometimes weeds just take over your life, both literally and figuratively...as they seem to have done to mine.  Each spring I weed my asparagus patch, which has been mulched through the winter.  Well, my plans to weed this patch were way-laid.

...my asparagus patch...

(Which despite my neglect has yielded as much as two pounds per day.)

Before my hand surgery, when I thought I'd have normal usage within 4-6 weeks, my plan had been to, not only weed the asparagus patch, but to remove young strawberry plants from my strawberry patch, till it up, and replant again.  Well, that plan was short-lived, 

...here is my strawberry patch...

if you look closely you can see strawberries...

and despite the copious weeds, this patch yields an ice cream bucket every two to three days.

Weeds of a different kind have been crowding my heart and my mind these days, choking out the sun and dampening joy.  Sometimes things simply get tangled and one grows tired of trying to extricate oneself from the mess...we've all been there for one reason or another...

 this morning's trip to the garden gifted me and lifted my spirits

I have planted many cucumber plants and watch them closely for growth each day, cucumbers being one of my favorite garden vegetables.  I had been watching one particular plant, watching the baby cucumber go from mere centimeters to now a couple of inches.  As I was lifting tendrils to the 'fence' I came to a plant I had not watched at all, and lo and behold hidden near the bottom was a fully mature 8" cucumber.  Quite honestly, this was joy!!

Blessings come in various forms, these, struggling through the weeds, are surely mine.

Perhaps this is a lesson for me.  Perhaps among the weeds crowding my heart and my mind are unsuspecting gems, hidden but real. 

MEETING A NEW 'OLD' FRIEND

Last Friday I had the great pleasure of finally meeting a blogging friend.  Lisa and I have followed each others blogs for several years now.  We seem to have so much in common, biking, food and gardening among those things.  She is originally from Richland Center and that is where her folks still reside.  As she was in RC to visit them, we arranged finally to meet.

Lisa is a lovely woman in all ways, and it was wonderful to have her come to Jug creek.  We had a great visit, and hope to do it again sometime in the not too distant future. Thanks so much for coming by, Lisa!!

On another note, just before she came, I picked spinach from the garden, and as there really wasn't enough for a dish to serve two, (spinach shrinks so much) and s I had dough slow-rising in the fridge I decided to make one of our favorite pizzas.

Many, many years ago, I read that when cleaning mushrooms one must treat them like a baby's bottom...and that is exactly what I have always done.  I dampen a paper towel and gently wipe each off before I slice it.  Above sliced button mushrooms sauteing in olive oil.

I saute them until they are quite brown as I believe it intensifies their flavor considerably.

...freshly picked spinach...

sauteing in olive oil with LOTS of chopped garlic

dough stretched into a cookie sheet rectangle and placed on parcheent paper, covered with homemade pesto (frozen, from last year), topped with spinach and the mushrooms....

a good grating of Organic Valley's Raw Milk Jack Cheese and fresh block Romano cheese...

put into a very hot (450-500 degree) oven for 10-12 minutes.  (My oven shelf has adobe tiles on it at all times, so the pizza on the parchment paper goes directly on these hot tiles.)

After a short time, it is ready.  The aroma is magnificent, and the flavors are unbelievable.

Served, of course, with a large salad dressed with homemade Italian dressing.

What a great way to use fresh spinach.  

RILKE, THE EARTH AND I

The iris' are exquisite this year, especially these yellow ones!

Just after my surgery, when I was 'confined' to doing almost nothing but reading, I embarked on a reading/writing journey.  Ranier Maria Rilke (1875-1926), who has for many years been my favorite poet,  newly inspired me.  (I realize that there are not many people who even like poetry, much less have a favorite poet.)  I do not have all of his work, but I do own a significant amount of his writings.  I can distinctly recall the very first time I read him, and how I was rendered almost speechless at his words.  I was deeply torn as well, between reverence and jealousy that his words were not my own.

On Rilke

 I can barely imagine his writing room

dark desk, dim light

dark young man…

bent heavy with love

and intensity

penning words

that preceded me by decades

yet seem to be mine.

I read with a devout awe

and a stinging jealousy…

and think that now, having been said,

I cannot drag these words

up from my own anguished soul.

They were taken from me

before I even was…

both riveted

and torn,

grateful and distraught

honoring yet coveting

I know these were my words,

these were my aching soul in Rilke’s tortured web of love

and he pulled them out one deep night

set them down

lifted them up into the holy mist

and I down these many years

anointed by such grace

wander and search and wonder

what words are left for me?

 Joanne Adragna Shird

January 1, 2011

  

Among the works I own are translations by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows, who in my estimation are the finest of Rilke translators.  One of the books is called A Year With Rilke: Daily Readings from the Best of Rainer Maria Rilke.  As I was reading the daily entry, a niggling began inside, my thought was that I would read each entry daily (but also the day/evening before so that would peculate in me) and each day write something of my own inspired by his work.  I began this journey on February 16, my first poem, and continue to this day.  You might say it has become somewhat of an obsession.  

The point of this post has to do with the reading for today, entitled by Macy and Barrows (Rilke didn't title most of his work) 'Earth, Isn't This What You Want'. This entry is a portion of a poem from the Duino Elegies, specifically the Ninth Elegy.  It is really a 'love song' to the earth, and I find it one of his most beautiful works.  In almost everyone of his poems I find one or two lines that I actually covet, wish with all my heart it hadn't been said, so I could pull it out of myself and set it down in words.  In this 'love song' Rilke's line spoken to the earth was, "Before I was named I belonged to you."  This resonated deeply with me, and as I continued to read and reread this entry in preparation for writing my own, I felt a swelling, a fullness emphasized by what was outside my window, what was in the garden I just stepped out of, and by the fruits of the earth I was holding as I prepared dinner.  

I fear this may sound a bit odd to many, but I knew the connection between the earth and myself.  I felt how it nourished me not just by giving me the food I was preparing but by the very rhythms of growth and decline.

Although I mostly prepare food with deep love and gratitude, I was so filled with Rilke's anthem to the earth that this meal's preparation seemed more holy to me.


One of my childhood favorite meals was called Chicken Oregano, and I have, over the years taken liberties with what goes on the roasting pan.

...organic chicken and potatoes, my own peppers and asparagus, organic carrots and onions...

Generally any fresh vegetable, especially straight from the garden, will do for this dish.  

Assemble the marinade (recipe follows).  Slather it generously over the chicken and place on a pan, slather more, and roast at 370 degrees for about 25 minutes.  Meanwhile in a bowl toss the cut up vegetables (not asparagus) with more of the marinade.  Add the potatoes, onions and carrots to the pan, making sure they are brushed with the oil/lemon juice mixture.  After about 15 minutes add the asparagus, and continue roasting until vegetables are done and chicken registers 195 degrees and is crispy.

Recipe for the marinade:

*1/3 c. good olive oil

*1/4 c. lemon juice

*one large garlic clove chopped

*2 tsp. dried oregano

*salt/pepper to taste 

I never lost sight of the interconnection with the earth during this meal, Rilke stayed with me, as he does today.

Here is my entry for today:

So much akin to you
     dear Earth, am I,
nothing of yours is foreign
     and I grow out of you,
perhaps not with the beauty
     of a flower
but surely like the knobby
     tree just outside my window.

There is nothing of me
     that you have not made
or touched, or helped to grow.

You circle me with your rhythms
     and the breath of those
that came before me.

There is nothing,
      that I do not owe to you.

I am your celebration,
    one thread
in this dense tapestry
     of life.

THE PARTY

Unfortunately my right hand, since surgery on January 31st, has been a central issue in my life, and often mentioned on this blog.  Most likely we all take our hands for granted, but were we to think about it, we would all be so grateful for them, their flexibility, their ceaseless labor, their loving touches, their creativity, their giving and their receiving.  I have learned that I can't take my hands for granted.  With the 'failure' of surgery to correct the problems brought about by Dupuytrans Contracture, actually making the problems far worse, I must say that I have, at times, come to detest my hand, to despise thinking about it all the time, and to feel depressed at its loss of normal function.  I have counted my blessings, and frequently realize that I could be so worse off, still it does not change the fact that my hand, in most ways, is no longer 'my hand'.  (As an aside, but a very related one, I was born with in-turning little fingers, really in-turning little fingers.  As a child I remember it bothering me some, but they did not impede my life, and I soon grew used to them, despite the 'ugly' nature of their being.  So adding the contractures to already not so pretty hands, was a bit of a blow. )

 

After surgery I was in Occupational Therapy for three months, wonderful therapists who helped me a great deal, and gave me hope.  Still, I am stalled in recovery, or at least feel that way.  Becoming disgusted with being down about this hand all the time, I decided that a Hand Party might be of some help.

This was to be a party of celebration for my hand, and to help me come to love this 'new' part of me.  I knew my grandgirls, Iris and Elsa, who spend much time gently petting and kissing my hand, would be so up for such a venture.

Invitations, and on the inside it reads 'Nonna's hand'.  On the back it reads, 'Fancy dress required'.  As I predicted, upon receiving these invitations and reading them, the response was, 'Oh, Nonnie' in their lilting but so pleased voice. 

On the morning of the party, we were, indeed, all dressed up. 

I made a cake in the shape of my hand, not realizing how not so pretty it was going to look with the crooked pinkie.  Unfortunately I took this photo before I placed a Wild Geranium flower on each finger tip, it looked quite a bit more lovely then.

In keeping with the theme, and knowing my girls love for my homemade bread, I rolled out some bread dough and using a hand cookie cutter, cut several pieces out and let them rise.

I also made one large hand-shaped loaf, using cherry tomatoes for finger nails...alongside are cheese slices cut with the cookie cutter.

...the tiny baked breads each hand holding a primrose...

As a party activity, I bought face paints and let the girls decorate my hands as well as their own.  This proved to be much fun.

My hands, as you can see the right hand (on the left) has a pinkie that is totally contracted, and the middle finger is contracted at about 45%.  Comparatively speaking, my left hand looks lovely.

Iris' hands

Elsa's hands

The girls loved the tiny bread hands, and while I was getting drinks in the kitchen they poked holes in the bread bottoms, stuck their fingers in and danced them around with much glee.
 

They sang a version of 'Happy Hands to you', kissed my hands endlessly, expressed their love for me and my hands and made this celebration a triumph.  

Do I love my hand?  I am learning to love my hand, and am committed to make it work for me without complaint.  I think that this is the hand that I will now have the rest of my life, and pray that contractures do not occur in any other fingers.  I am blessed that I can still do pretty much all that I have ever done, I ride my bike daily, bake bread frequently, cook elaborate meals, harvest, plant and garden endlessly, write, drive, sew, and know how blessed I really am. 

GARDEN: FIRST STAGE

It has been a rough few months 'recovering' from hand surgery on January 31st.  The use of my right hand is still far from normal, and I am battling pains and function issues that I never had before the surgery.  However, I have decided to simply plow forward and go ahead with all the things I love to do, and at this time of year that means gardening.

Below you see a view of my 'kitchen garden' which was established two years ago.  Last fall I covered the entire space with newspaper and laid straw over that.  I had intended to remove it and plant, but find that I am simply digging through it or moving it aside to plant, and leaving the rest as mulch.  (Plus, my dog Sapala thinks it is her new bed.)

Freddie was finally able to get into the garden to till it last Thursday late afternoon.  I immediately set about gardening.

I went out to the garden with my garden rake and started raking the loose soil into small raised beds.  This is labor intensive, and with a right hand functioning not so well, proved to be difficult.  Still, after a couple of hours work that night, I went into the house truly elated!  I was happy both inside and out, I was literally high.

There is something about the smell of newly worked soil, the feel of it, and the working it that is of the soul.  I felt the most like me that night then I have since surgery.  It made me most anxious to get back out there the next morning.

I spent two days raking loose soil into beds, some of which I planted at the time, and others I just made ready.

...here are some of the raised rows...

...some of the raised rows and raised beds, broccoli planted in two, along with some red peppers...

...garlic which was planted last November, sweet potatoes to the left, and cucumbers alongside the upright fence, under the milk jugs are tomato plants...

...another view...

I have been plagued with tomato blight for the last few years, so last fall I covered a brand new plot with cardboard and then straw, hoping never before planted ground would avoid blight.  We'll see.

...tomato plants under jugs.  This plot is directly in front of my compost pile, so I thought the tomatoes would benefit from any soil/nutrient seepage...

This morning I went out to my 'corn plot' (I do not raise the rows for the corn) and planted five rows, with more to be planted in a couple of weeks.  Last year I think the crows plucked most of my seeds, so my good old stand-by female scarecrow was staked in the middle of the corn patch.  We'll see if that helps.

I spend most of the day working the garden and no matter how hard I work, how much sweat trickles down my face and body, no matter the aches I have, I can honestly say I never feel better then when I come in from working the garden.

It is a magical pathway to all that is, and if one thinks about the soil, the seeds, the rain, the sun, and one's own part in it all,  there is a connection so deep and vital that one is profoundly renewed as well as blessed by the sacredness of it all.