Scum of the Earth, Artistically Speaking

 

Naturally occurring scum and foam form on the creek.  This one spot, above a big log jam of flotsam and jetsam, is a particular favorite.  It's constantly changing, sometimes a mat as above, of blobs and accordion folds of brown and white.  Other times like an elaborate tapestry woven of leaves and pine needles pressed between foamy warp and woof.  And then, after heavy rain breaks it apart and clears it out, more like a swirling galaxy as the raft forms again.  

I've been known to stand for extended periods meditating on this eddy of foam.  Observing the way the current moves the creamy froth, rafts crashing into other patches, gathering together like Pangaea, then breaking apart and floating out to form new continents.

The other day I spied this perfect tiny circle.  A pine needle pared the edge as the sphere of foam spun in its miniature universe. The creek is different every day and such a glorious distraction and entertainment.

This week I heard a kingfisher chatter as it flew down the corridor.  A great blue heron lumbered up out of the shallows where it was fishing, so much effort to raise that long-limbed form from a stand still, I felt bad about scaring it off.

No walk today - more crap weather. The dreaded "wintry mix" rain, snow, sleet, ick.  Cold.  It was 78 on Saturday, the plums and cherries are totally confused, beginning to open their flower buds.  Hopefully they won't get nipped.  Tomorrow more of the same.  Enough already.  I want spring!

The power was out for several hours this evening.  When it got dark we bailed and went out to supper, fortunately the juice was flowing again when we got home. We are SO dependent.

Lately

Snippets of spring appear here and there, a primrose, a crocus, the prunus mume in bloom and smelling like cinnamon.  Then it snows, or it sleets, or the temperature plunges back into the teens.  I have faith that spring will eventually arrive in earnest.  And so I get out there and face a scenario like this one:

 

A bit daunting but I got it done.  240 onion plants are now tucked into those long furrows.  It was timely that the plants arrived on the day we pulled the last of the onions out of storage.  They were looking a little worse for wear, the outside layer mushy, the center sprouting a green tip, but still edible and a good addition to that nights supper.

The days have included many walks along the streams and through the woods, taking in the clear skies and sunlight sparkling on babbling waters.   I love winter walking, no sweat, no bugs.  I vowed at the new year that I would attempt to make a daily pilgrimage to what I call the "Church of the Woods".  I've not been entirely successful but I have managed to get out most days, even if just to make the trek to the mailbox and take in the sky and pastures.  

And for you bird watchers out there.  I did make the trip with brother Chris to see the snowy owls at Ocracoke.   And we did, despite high winds, rain, cold and other impediments, finally get to the island.  And yes, we did get a very nice, if fleeting look at a real, live, big white and brown snowy owl.  Before over eager others scared it to flight.  Darn them.  And a second look, before it was scared again.  Oh well. Everyone wanted to see it. For a full trip report hop on over to Slow Birding for Chris's version and a couple of good photos.  This little Casper above is a stone I found in the Current river last summer that spoke "owl" to me, so I carried it home for the collection.

Here's hoping March will get more hospitable soon.

PS- I just searched for onions on the blog to include a link above and realized I am officially an onion geek, there are about 10 or 12 posts related to onions on this blog!  So I'll spare you. Search for yourself if you are an onion geek too.

The Winter That Never Was

Its been spookily warm this year and has never really gotten very cold.  We've seen lots of 50's and 60's and the thermometer hit 70 this week. The daffodils are starting to bloom what feels like about 2 weeks early, normally they come around valentines day.  The prunus mume still has flowers after about 6 weeks of flowering, I saw cherry trees beginning to turn pink in town this afternoon. 

It is really tempting to think "that's it, spring is here" even though its only Feb 3rd.  Apparently both Punxsutawney Phil  up in Pennsylvania and Sir Walter Wally here in NC saw their shadows yesterday.  But I've never put much stock in their predictions.

Call me a geek, but I think it's interesting to study the weather records from time to time.  The record lows and highs for our area from Jan 20 through today run from the single digits all the way up into the 80's and across decades from the fifties until recently.  There was a little heat bump in 2002 with a couple of days running in the 80's and also back in 1989, but otherwise there is no real pattern.  There was also a record 17.9 inch snowfall in 2000.  So it's safe to say that the weather can be fickle in this part of the world this time of year.  Though I'm not saying I don't believe in climate change, I absolutely do.

In fact this past week the USDA changed the plant hardiness zone map for the US for the first time in 22 years.  Based on weather patterns over the last 30 years, the whole country pretty much got bumped up a notch, adding 5 degrees to the average low.  The Piedmont of NC is now zone 7b instead of 7a.

This clump of white hellebores has been going to town for about a month.  I'm used to them blooming during the cold times, but they still started a bit early I think, they are in a sunny protected spot.  It has certainly helped the vegetables to grow nicely despite the short days.

I'm tempted to toss out a few pea and lettuce seeds and see what happens.  Does the change in the hardiness zone result in a change in the last and first predicted frost dates?  I'll have to go look that up next...

Mystery of History

This chimney stands in the middle of the woods completely overgrown now by trees.  The stone monolith stands near one of the oldest roads running across the land that surrounds us.  They say it was an old postal road that ran from the western side of Orange County into Chapel Hill.  I think it likely passed the mill that once stood on Morgan Creek downstream from here.  What I do believe is that many a wagon and cart traveled that road over time, most likely in the 1800's and the wheels and rains wore a rut in the earth 8 feet deep or more in places.  Now it's a green moss and fern lined track. Like the chimney- I don't know when that road went out of use, but most likely it was back in the early 1900's.

I like to visit the chimney now and then during the winter.  I wander around it imagining who might have lived there, how old it is, what happened and how long ago.  Did it burn?  Most likely, there is no sign of any other part of the structure.  Just stones that formed the foundation, all buried under a foot or more of pine needles.  h
Here you can see them piled in the fireplace.

I wonder if the second story was added later, the tiny upstairs fireplace and the top of the chimney made of bricks, did they come later?  It's a massive structure that anchored what was a cabin measuring no more than 16 by 20.  The hilltop all around the site is covered with periwinkle (vinca minor) in its usual invasive fashion it has spread slowly but deliberately out from the house site only being kept in check by the shade and heavy pine needles that cover the ground.

I would love to do an excavation around the cabin site to see what I might unearth, if anything.  What must it have been like to live there, 4 or 5 miles from town, in that tiny cabin, possibly no neighbors for several miles and scratch out an existence off the land? I can only imagine.  Whoever built that chimney certainly built it to last and it has stood now for 10 or 15 decades or more.  I've pondered researching the history of that parcel of land back in time, but its tricky to figure out how I might actually do that successfully.  Any suggestions?

Happy New Year

I always like to welcome the new year with a walk around the land and a visit to some of my favorite places.  I've read, (but can't find the reference), that at this time of year, certain cultures honor the spirits that reside in powerful trees and rocks.  As I've walked the woods the past few weeks I've been connecting with that custom as the tree trunks, roots and rock formations really stand out now that all the leaves are down.

There are certain places that feel very powerful to me and this rock outcrop is one of them.  I like to climb to the top and look down over the creek.  Huge sycamores cling to the far bank, their roots merging with the stones on the edge of the stream.  I took time out yesterday to stroll the creek, visit these special spots and meditate a while at each.  I've even been caught tree-hugging from time to time.  You only need to study the trunks of beech trees to believe that they are endowed with spirits.

Today I celebrated the new year with lots of writing and organizing in my office.  I baked bread and made a brilliant purple pot of borscht using all vegetables we've grown; beets, cabbage, tomatoes, peppers, carrots, onions and dill.  I wish all my readers a joyous and bountiful 2012.  May we all be healthy and happy.

Snow Angel

A favorite spot along one of our creek ways, there is always water in this stone pool

My friends I have abandoned you once again!  But here I am with a thought or two to share.  I did start writing group again last week and it was wonderful to put pen to paper again.  So funny, that morning I woke and thought to myself  "today I will become a writer again" and then immediately laughed following that thought with this one "I'm always a writer, I just don't write!"  But that is an old, old situation for every person involved in any artistic endeavor, the struggle to produce, focus, create.  PUT IT OUT THERE.

So I thought I would share something that I wrote in class last week.  An except generated by the prompt:

"Snow Angel"

For many seasons our father bought us a new toboggan at Christmas, we always destroyed it within a month or so taking too much "air", cramming too many bodies on board.  Eventually he stopped investing.  But one of those cold Connecticut Januaries I remember the boys took me sledding at night, to the golf course near our house, out with the big kids, all of us piled on board and when we crashed at the bottom I got pitched into a deep drift.  There, under the soft white womb, I could hear muffled voices, laughing, other kids screaming as they flew down the steep hill.  I could see a glimpse of night sky through the opening created by my little body when it flew off the sled into the snow.  I felt a strange calmness there, insulated and warm, calling out in a tiny voice "help, help me, I'm in here".  Soon the boys found me, pulling me up and out, joking, jostling, dragging me back up the hill for another ride, more running, jumping aboard, flying down, tumbling off at the bottom of the slope.  All of us on the toboggan, me squeezed between the boys, shrieking as we flew down the hill, again and again, safe in the sandwich of bodies that was me and my brothers, my protectors, my knights in padded armor. 

This weekend I'm heading to the coast for a brief retreat and focus on work towards my certificate in Environmental Education.  I'll be taking the computer and hope to post from there.  Thanks all you faithful readers for continuing to come back for more.

Radish Festival Take 2

It was actually warm and pleasant earlier this week and I ventured into the garden to putter around a bit. Cut down the dead eggplants and peppers and put away their cages. Pulled up the frozen turnips. I tidied up, fertilized and mulched the strawberry bed in hopes of some berries come June. And in my travels, I unearthed a couple of major radishes. I had left these in the ground, partly out of laziness, partly in hopes that David might pull them up on December 23rd and carve them in an act of solidarity with me when I was down in Mexico taking in the Noche de los Rabanos (see blog post Dec 28,2009 ). He didn’t, so here they are.

I don’t know about you, but I thought this guy really needed no carving, sort of reminds me of the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland that sat up on that giant mushroom. What does it remind you of?

Check out the size of this dude-knife placed for emphasis- The lower half we’ll be able to eat, the top is hollow from being above ground during such cold weather. This is a variety that is actually grown for its greens.  I discovered last year, that while I don't really care much for the greens accept when quite small, it also produces these spectacular radishes mid-winter that are quite tasty and sweet. Looking at the Johnny’s website I see they say Hong Vit makes small inedible radishes, I’d have to disagree.

Today it’s back to bone-chilling cold and rainy, stick close to the woodstove weather, tomorrow we should see the sun again, just long enough to refill the wood rack before more rain on Sunday.

Must be January.

So to brighten your winter days wherever you are, here are a couple more of my faves from the radish fest in Oaxaca, the real deal.

Sun and Moon?

Asian drumming, singing troupe?

Go Zapotec

February Has Arrived

This morning we woke to a light dusting of snow. As is typical for this capricious month we have a forecast this week that includes nights in the teens and days in the sixties, Sunday they say may be 70 degrees!

January flew by and now winter begins to ease off. I struggle between my desires for winter to continue so that I can stay inside and cogitate, and for spring to come so I can get out and see the new world unfold. It's a tough thing. Sometimes I wish for a colder climate with a longer winter. I like to spend time reading and thinking, napping and making big pots of soup and beans, sleeping late. Here in Carolina the time for these activities is pretty short, December and January really, with a few wintry days in November and February, but by March, spring is really kickin' in.

The to do list is long as ever, things that didn't get done in the fall, like mulching, always more mulching, and cleaning and staining the decks. Now the spring chores start to crop up too, planting peas and prepping a bed for onions and the earliest spring veggies. Another seasonal cycle rolls around.

Check out my latest column in the News, winter bird watching. I slipped down to the coast last Friday with big bro to look for wintering seaside sparrows. They eluded us, but we did see striking black oyster catchers, marbled godwits, bufflehead ducks, hooded mergansers and a whole flock of loons. I copped two new life birds; purple and western sandpipers, so it was not a total wash in terms of birding olympics. And the day was gorgeous, my spirits entirely renewed by a short walk on a sunny beach, watching the clouds lining up overhead, the waves rolling in. I forget it's so close to go down there, only 2 hours to Wilmington, think I'll try to do it a little more often. The beach refreshes my soul.

Winter Woods Walking

My latest column for the Chapel Hill News came out today- I think its worth reading, about winter woods walks. I came across this photo the other day of one of the funny faces I've found in the trunks of beech trees over the years. Seeing the tree trunks is one of the best things about walking in winter, especially through a grove of old beeches.

I hiked the other day at Johnston Mill Nature Preserve. I've always wanted to check it out, a property purchased by the Triangle Land Conservancy some years back. It is a stunning section of woods that surround a winding broad section of New Hope Creek with high bluffs and several smaller streams. Lots of old growth beech, an old mill site to explore, plenty of water flowing now and I imagine it will be a spot for summer water play on hot afternoons. And only 15 minutes from home. If you live in Central NC and are not a member of TLC, you should be. They are working diligently to preserve some of the great natural places in our area and without them, incredibly important lands like Johnston Mill would be filled with houses by now.

It's another rainy day today but the sun keeps trying to come out. The winds are high and another front is coming through so I think the temperature will be dropping as the day wears on. I'm hoping to get in a winter walk at some point today if the weather permits. Ahh, Freedom.

Winter Finally

It’s great for it to be cold at last. The folks up north might not agree but around here, nights in the teens and days in the thirties are about the coldest cold we see. And the snow was a really welcome sight. Not the covering white blanket I had hoped for but still it was lovely to wake up the other morning and look out into the woods lit white and gray by snow covered branches, hear the sound of dripping water coming down. The tops of the big pines with globby white hats sitting on top of their bows, catching the first rays of morning sunlight, the green and bright white against the clear blue sky, just stunning.

I love the cold because it forces me inside most of the day to concentrate and work on indoor pleasures, reading, writing, and cooking. But I also relish walking outside when the air is so crisp and clear, everything is sharp against that bluest of blue skies, the winter air invigorates me, 360 from the thick hazy air of summer, when the heat and humidity make me want to die.

Down at the creek the other day I could hear the sound of chain saws and chickens clucking, dogs barking and distant traffic. They just logged 100 acres or more between the creek and Calvander so it is only a matter of time before they fill that space with houses just like every other space around Chapel Hill and Carrboro and not long after that more and more people will begin to appear along the creek paths, desperately eager for a taste of nature- a moment in the wild. I hope the creek keeps flowing for all our sakes. And that the traffic of people and dogs and kids won’t get so heavy that it begins to take a toll on the creek banks and woods.

Another day last week I sat for a long time staring out at the pond, watching the light and patterns change on the surface of the water from the wind, clouds floating by, the sun getting low, the clouds in the west were starting to pinken, then go peachy, blue sky between them reflecting in the rippling water.

I thought wow- just to stop, just stop, stop moving, stop thinking, just meditate on that water and sky, you don’t need anything else. Why can’t I just take this time to be? 8 months of freedom and I still can’t let a pretty day go by and not get out in it, just like I still sleep late sometimes 9 or 10 hours in bed, because I can, because I spent so many years inside when I wanted to be outside, sleep deprived and hungry for the rest.

Kahlil Gibran said “Forget not that the earth likes to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair” Forget not indeed.

Winter Solstice

Yesterday was the winter solstice, shortest day, longest night of the year. I see today as the real new years day, from here on out, the days will get longer until June 21 and then they’ll get shorter again until this time next year. In my opinion, Solstice should be the true New Year's eve.

I’ve made a point the last few years to recognize the period from the Solstice, the solar new year till Jan. 1, the calendar New Year, as my 11 to 12 days of Christmas, depending on whether the solstice falls on the 21st or 22nd. Astronomically the solstice fell this year at 1 AM on the 22nd, but I checked and discovered that both the 21st and the 22nd had 9 hours and 43 minutes of daylight and 14 hours and 17 minutes of dark, so I guess there were really two longest nights and shortest days this year.

I like to take time now to crawl inside myself a bit, take stock of the year past and think about the one to come. Allow myself the culinary pleasures of the season, of which there are many and I want to indulge. Also I want to pamper myself physically, yesterday I went swimming and took a steam at the Y, today I went to yoga and took a walk with my Honey Pie at sunset, watching the almost full moon rise.

It was great to get back home after traveling over 2000 miles in 12 days and sleeping in 5 different beds. I’ve been sleeping like a bear since I got back, in the sack by 10 or 11 p.m. and then at 8:30 or 9:00 a.m. we force ourselves up and out.

I loved getting back to our garden, I contend it is our best autumn garden ever, not sure if that’s due to the weather or simply to the fact that I’ve been around to tend to it and take advantage of the bounty. I roam the paths thinking about all the various dishes I could fix with dill or cilantro, green onions, spinach, turnips or cabbage. On Friday we cooked turnips with bacon, onions, cabbage, tomato, a few raisins, apples and turnip greens. Not a dish for sissy’s, the turnip flavor was strong from the greens while the apples, turnips and cabbage were super sweet. I always say we grow the sweetest veggies in Orange County, NC and I stand by it.

Tomorrow I am planning a dish of roasted veggies to include small turnips, golden beets, baby fennel , and potatoes to accompany a roast leg of lamb for our Christmas eve dinner, just us two. I’m going to start a batch of Grandmothers rolls and bake a few for the eve and more for the day when we will go to brother C’s and share a meal with family. I’m also planning a lemon chess pie, an old family favorite and special request of the bro.

I bought a pound of fresh salmon yesterday and started a batch of gravlaax, home cured fish made with tons of fresh dill, salt, sugar and pepper. A favorite winter time treat for us. Yesterday I baked a batch of rock cookies, another family favorite flavored with coffee, rosewater, vanilla, mace, allspice and nutmeg and chock full of nuts and raisins. They are dangerous to have around, I give a few to anyone that comes by.

We don't have a tree, though we were eyeing potential candidates on our walk this evening, neither of us really wants to mess with it. I will probably gather some greenery from the woods tomorrow to make a wintery centerpiece. We still have lights in trees in the yard from last year so we can always light those up for a little more cheer.

Southern Roots

I'm on the road this week, in the midst of a deep south tour of family history. I've been to Atlanta to see my cousin J., the only girl cousin on my mothers side that I ever knew well and haven't seen her in a number of years. I forgot how much we had in common, our mothers who were sisters, both died two years apart over 20 years ago. They were too young to die and we were too young to lose our mom's. Our fathers died more recently, after good long lives and while difficult, esp for J. whose father fell and broke his neck, they both died in their homes, with hospice care and their families around them, both ready to let go and their children ready to let go of them. J. and I are both the baby girls of our family, both had troubled teen years in the 70's getting into things that were dangerous and crazy but came out all right on the other side. We talked for hours and stayed up late poring over family trees, bibles and pictures, trying to link together who was who and how they were related to the others.

From there I rode on to Mississippi, to visit my Aunt C. my mothers baby sister, her last living sibling. She lives on her husbands family farm where she moved over 50 years ago. My cousin M. lives beside her in his paternal grandmothers home. M. farms 1200 acres of flat Mississippi delta in soybeans, hay, corn and cattle. He proudly toured me in his truck through each field and pasture, all clean and tidy, put to bed for the winter, flat and smooth and cut by deep ditchs edged with cane and bordered by hedgerows of bare hardwoods and green cedars. I was surprised by the beauty of the land in its winter starkness, flocks of birds flying up from the stubble in undulating masses. M. had two big bulls, one each in pastures across the road from one another, they snorted as they stomped around the field, 2000 pounds of shiny blackness and solid power.

Aunt C. looks exactly like my grandmother with nips of my mother jumping in now and then in a smile, mannerism or expression. She's still going strong, 13 years younger than my mother, we went to the gym together and worked out. She taught me to bake my grandmothers rolls, which she does by feel rather than by measurement, I hope I can carry on the gauntlet. We stood in the kitchen together by the stove, eating them for dessert, fresh from the oven. They were scrumptious; soft, brown and buttery. We too looked over the box of family history I had carted along with me, C. filled in some blanks, gave me info on my Grandaddy's side of the family to help fill in the picture, we have info from Grandmothers family all the way back to the first colonies in 1715. She helped ID some of the mysterious faces in my tattered albums, others stare out from the browning photos, dressed in victorian high collars, too old for anyone to remember.

I journeyed on through the Mississippi delta and crossed the wide muddy river. The low winter sun, just a week before the solstice, shone across the flat land, lighting the bare trees at the back of fields bright green with winter wheat. White cotton piled at the edges of the road, bare pecan trees, vase-like, lined up in ancient groves. On to Little Rock and my fathers side of the family. I'm at Aunt H's house now, my fathers mothers last house, tiny and filled with family heirlooms, china, crystal and silver from a century ago.

We too reviewed the pictures and family trees. Yesterday we marveled at my great grandmothers autograph albums from the 1880's, brown pages dissolving under our fingers, lined with fancy script and expressions from a time long gone. My cousins here, showed off their offspring and told tales of the family reunions, games we played as children, the deaths of those that have traveled on before us. This side of the family can trace our roots to the Virginia colonies as well. So much history, so much past, all waiting to be revealed.

Last night I tossed in the antique bed, birthing this post and woke at 5 to a flash of lightening and the sound of thunder. I rose and stood on the carport, listening to the sound of rain pattering on the roof, so foreign after all these months of dry. I looked down at the lights of North Little Rock, glowing like stars through the bare trees and fog. Today I will travel with my beloved brother J. to Hot Springs for yet another chapter, more reminiscing, more reviewing of where we came from and who we all are now.