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this rainy morning

A rainy morning and so it has been the past few days. Luckily, at least where I am, it is a gentle rain. Steady. The plants on the porch are happy with the exception of the lemon verbena. With the rain has come a briskness. While I’ve since learned that swiss chard and sorrel are cold hardy even into the winter months, verbena needs the warmth and so soon I suspect I will strip the leaves and dry them for tea.

It is too wet to sit outside. There are pools of water in the chairs. I should have tilted them. So I sit at the threshhold looking out, protected. It is where Steve used to sit in his chair. Sometimes from this vantage he would play a recorder. When he played, especially if he was on the porch and not just at the threshhold, I warned him to be careful of the young children across the street. Surely he did not want to become the Pied Piper and attract a gaggle of little people who would come knocking at our door. Although, but of course, a Steve of a different age/time would have loved just that and would have had me feed them. Or, if I wasn’t home, he would have surely taught them how to raid the refrigerator, use a knife, slice potatoes and cheese, whatever … and then school them in how to sit and have a meal together.

I sit here with my coffee and it is the falling rain providing music in the background. Later I’ll find the classical music station. We live on a quiet street without much traffic which makes it a mecca for children on Halloween. I have candy but I don’t know yet if I have the energy to sit outside that evening and be genuinely present to handout sweets. Steve enjoyed the ritual and sat out there a few times these past years doling out candy and costume compliments.

I don’t know yet …

As people start to talk about holiday travel and such … well, I don’t know yet what I want to do and I think that’s okay. Let others plan as they must and should but for now I am comfortable just being.

This past weekend was an intensely people-filled two days almost literally from dawn to dusk. Not in any bad way just full. So I don’t mind, perhaps I even relish, the “quiet” of the rain and the pearl gray sky. A good day to write (and I’ve plenty to do for work), and to read (also for work but also pleasure). And after that I will focus on the other necessities. It is amazing the paperwork once someone passes, and the need to develop new methods of tracking things that need to get done, now with one brain instead of two.

And after all that, might I dare go for a walk in the rain as I used to do so many years ago? Originally by myself but sometimes I would invite/coerce Steve to go along, even in rain or snow. Well, if so, at the first unseen puddle that fills my shoes with water freezing my feet, I’m sure I’ll look upward, as I used to do with Steve, as he warmed my hands under his shirt to keep me from getting frostbite, I’m sure I’ll look up and mutter innocently, “Please tell me again. Who’s idea was this?”

Onward … 🙂

not in europe …

… just walking through the Christian Science Center Plaza in Boston after a respite at the Boston Museum of Fine Art.

this morning …

… I have seen some astounding things as I sit with coffee on the porch. Clearly we are easing into autumn. A bit brisk. I’m tempted to toss on a sweater but it’ll be hot before I know it. As I look around … the grouping of basil, swiss chard and sorrel is still lush in their containers, thriving, and I chuckle at myself as I say fiendishly, “I might eat you tonight!” The strawflowers with their orange-gold heads seem harbingers of the approaching season. I will try to save their seeds though saving seeds has never been my issue; it is remembering to plant them in the spring.

A white butterfly flits around me perhaps annoyed that I have come out. I take moments to reminisce but I also make plans for the day. A hawk circles overhead, just one, not a pair. In the neighbor’s yard, sunflowers sway. The neighbor’s garden is usually very ordered but the sunflowers are planted randomly, and only lately as I watched a family gathering did I realize he did it for his young grandchildren.

Well, alright, while I do enjoy the sounds – the wind rustling the tree leaves, the blue jay’s raucous cry, and even the more distant rumbles from the highway – I need to be on that highway making my way into work. Work has been a tether and not in a bad sense. So away with me. Good morning, world. Have a good day. 🙂

… what a beautiful path. And that path was so soft and spongy with the fallen evergreen needles from above. The pond was busy today because it was such a lovely day before school resumes. So many children being taught how to fish. It made me smile because Steve had tried to share the pleasure of fishing with me here once, and later, as he was recovering after his stroke, one of his caregivers asked if it would be okay to take Steve fishing. They did indeed make the trek to this particular pond while I was at work and the caregiver sent me pictures. They didn’t catch anything. It was probably one of the last times Steve went fishing. As I walked along the paths adjacent to the water I thought about mobility and access which my journey with Steve these past years has made hyper-aware in my mind as I parade about in the world.

It has been a long time since I have wandered through a wooded area, suburban or wild, without thought to time. It was a pleasurable few hours of just wandering about, following the light and shadows. I actually engaged in conversation with a professional photographer after she asked was I seeing anything good as I leaned over a footbridge. As we chatted, she said, “You’re only a professional if you make money.” I don’t know about that.

I missed, as my Uber took the turn to take me home, that I could not tell Steve about my adventures, about the fall of light and shadows, the photographer chatting with me that same as when we together years before at another venue and a bird watcher wanted to tell us about 300 warblers. There was a welling of emotion and … with the tears there is always laughter or at least a smile. And for that I am grateful and heartened. We’ll see what future weekends hold for journeys with the camera into nature. It was a good day for all sorts of reasons.

when you look down …

… on a walk around a pond.

just garlic …

Hardneck garlic sown in a 2 x 2 small raised bed last autumn. Scapes harvested in the spring, and then finally the bulbs shoveled free early in the summer. Never learned the art of braiding things like this so the stalky bulbs sit in a big paper bag in the basement where I can easily fetch them. Tonight the garlic was used in a simple dish of sauteed baby zucchini drizzled at the end with a little sesame oil.

Quite tasty I have to say especially the unexpected charring because I, uhm, was in another room while the flame was up a tad high … but it all turned out gorgeously alright. I’m making this one again.

This past weekend I was energized, not to do what I needed to do necessarily, but what I wanted to do. I checked out cookbooks from the public library, ones with great photography and cultural history in addition to the recipes. I weeded the yard (one or two sections), I ordered seeds and such for things to plant this month and next in Zone 6 that will grow this fall and can be harvested after the early winter frost or indeed next year … like a new crop of garlic. We’ll see …

to the moon

Not bad. Thursday’s full moon. The image would have been better if I’d gone outside and used the tripod for a steadier shot. Instead I leaned out the second floor kitchen window contorting and trying not to shake the camera too much. Maybe by the next full moon, end of September, I will gather the courage to set up outside and take some proper shots. We’ll see …

foraging

Swiss chard and sorrel from the pots on the porch. The foundation of a tiny salad once topped with what I scrounged from the fridge, a bit of avocado not yet browned, spring onions nearing their last days, and the last of the cherry tomatoes sitting on the counter. Drizzled with olive oil and a splash of champagne vinegar. A good exercise after work.

I’ll be curious …

… how these turn out. It seemed like a good idea on Friday perusing the farmers market in Copley Square. Big beautiful baskets of mixed peppers. I need to keep busy and creative. Why not make some pickled peppers? 🙂

I’ve made pickles before but usually with cucumbers and/or thin slices of red onion. People seemed to appreciate them. This time, with the peppers, I added some garlic harvested from the garden. The cloves were small but the flavor very good.

I didn’t remember to pull on gloves but I did remember this time (ahem) to wash my hands after cutting the peppers before accidentally rubbing my eyes or eating a snack.

Probably the simplest recipe I’ve tried. Just a simple brine poured over the peppers and garlic. I’ve sometimes added fresh herbs. With the cucumbers I would have added some peppercorn. Uhm, not needed here.

Two jars. If tasty … I’ll know more tomorrow once they’ve had a chance to sit in the fridge for a bit … then one to keep and probably one to give away. What’s my favorite phrase? We’ll see … 🙂

on the porch

I’m actually having to wear a sweater as I sit on the porch this morning. It rained in the early hours though not enough based on the level of water in the birdbath. A gray day but still bright. A light that makes the white blooms luminous and the reds muted. Classical music wafts from the interior out here to me. As I look around I can see maybe one task for today out here, to properly plant the lemon verbena purchased this weekend.

The sorrel and sage I planted right away. Did a lot of deadheading this weekend and rearranging of chairs and small tables. Basically I reworked the accommodations that had been made for Steve’s wheelchair and long legs needing a significant turn radius to maneuver in and out of the house. So I made the sitting space tighter and more intimate and then clumped flowers, herbs and foliage for density. Then there’s some “white space” between the sitting area and the ramp. Nope haven’t removed the ramp yet. It’s actually convenient and it may prove useful if I need to roll some of the big pots into the house for overwintering.

The plants bordering the ramp are a bit chaotic if bright. Just playing around unprofessionally with color and height. I tend to buy what I can find in a moments notice, especially items on sale, and what I can ferry home by Uber or public transportation. I know that garden centers will deliver big pots/plants but I’m not ready for that investment. Maybe, for landscaping on the ground, in the spring. We’ll see.

So much of what evolved in this little garden space is a balance for my aesthetic desires and Steve’s strong interest in functionality and purpose. For instance he could appreciate the beauty of the strawflower and its biology … but they’re not edible and could a small tomato plant instead fit in that space? 🙂

We sure did have some interesting, ahem, conversations about edible flowers. You see, I bought several books on the subject. One day years ago I walked around the house and picked the petals of edible flowers, maybe a tulip and/or orchid. When Steve walked through the door, home for work, I just handed him the flowers and said, “Eat this.” He did and then raced for a sip of red wine (his go to medicinal when something tasted off) and then asked, “Why are you trying to kill me?” I held up the book. He threw up his arms. “Just because it’s edible doesn’t mean it tastes good!”

On this porch, our last one together, there are many culinary herbs. Of course, the basil, several pots, chives and oreganos, thymes, lavender and now the lemon verbena. I have to admit the chocolate mint is thriving and starting to smell better and better to me. There was a part of me soon after things happened where I considered just letting things go to seed and as things died I would simply clear the porch and not fill in … and then I could hear Steve’s voice. “Dear one, don’t be ridiculous.”

There is joy and well as tears in sitting on the porch whether quietly with a beverage or on the phone with friends as I juggle the phone and trying to put dirt in a pot. So far, so far, I have been able to make myself harvest something from the porch each evening for dinner. It is hard but can be fun to take a few moments to google how to use rosemary and oregano together and so on. When I shared with a friend at work about giving away the pinched basil because Steve was not here to make pesto, he said, “Understandable. And when you’re ready to make your own pesto, bring me some.” I agreed.