the july garden

 

july 2

july 9

july 16

july 22

july 30

we had a lot of rain in july. the weeds have gotten a bit away from me, as i just can't keep up with all this rain. there are loads of slugs and so i spend a good 30 minutes morning and evening, picking them into a bucket to feed to my running ducks. it gives them so much joy. i have special slug gloves that i put on to do it, as i can't stand those slimy bastards. but i do it to see how happy it makes the ducks. i wish they could run around free and eat all the slugs themselves, but that stupid jerk of a fox is still hanging around. soon, there will be tomatoes, it would happen faster if we had slightly warmer weather. mostly days are only in the upper 60s. the rest of the world is boiling over and we're wearing sweaters around here. 

i can't stop growing avocado plants

 

please ignore all the dirt at the base of these, the kitten has been busy.

like many people during corona, i became a little bit obsessed with one thing in particular. growing avocado plants. i was ordering gorgeous boxes of buttery avocados from freshland and after seeing a tiktok (naturally), i started saving the seeds and trying to get them to sprout. i remember trying as a child, with three toothpicks stuck into the seed, suspending the pit over a glass of water. i don't think it ever worked, but tiktok had a better way. 

you soak the pit for a couple of days in water, then peel off the brown outer skin. then you wrap it up in a damp paper towel, stick it in a ziploc bag and ignore it for a month or so. after about a month, it should have sprouted a little root like this one. and then it's time to suspend it over water.

i collected old milk bottles in thrift stores, as they work perfectly for this and you don't have to do the pit any violence with toothpicks. you just fill it as full as you can and make sure the tiny little root can touch the water. 

i had five pits that had sprouted (and yes, i might have an equal number that are still nestled in their damp paper towel), so i set them on the window sill in the kitchen to sprout. the root will grow a bit more and then a little nub of the tree will sprout out and its leaves will begin to unfold. 

once they're well-established and have really good roots (i neglected to photograph that part), they're ready to be potted. i had five from late last summer that we were ready to pot last weekend and it was warm enough out in the sunny greenhouse to spend a bit of time getting them potted up. 

i have quite a few bigger plants from the ones i did that first year of corona. they're thriving and all have lovely new leaves forming at the top, as they sense the light returning. they're on various window sills all over the house. they make a nice gift when you're invited to a birthday or just as a hostess gift. they're quite easygoing. i give mine a good watering once a week and they all seem to be thriving. in our climate, i don't ever expect to be able to plant them out (though who knows, with climate change), nor do i really expect that they'll ever produce avocados. someone told me on instagram that they wouldn't, but i'm not so sure. all i know is that it's a little obsession that i quite enjoy.

i even drew some and made avocado plant prints last weekend during our printmaking course. it just feels somehow magical, getting a whole live plant from the pit of an avocado that i ate on toast. 

what you plant has a way of growing

we had a bit of rain of late and now the weather is warm, so the garden is going crazy. the zucchini is abundant, as are cucumbers in the greenhouse and the tomatoes are loving this warm weather and starting to come on. my broad beans are finished and i only had a few purple (green) beans. my spinach has bolted. the indigo is ready to play with (maybe this weekend) and i'm picking the first real bouquets of dahlias this weekend. i've decided i love zinnias (they're now in my top five with lilacs, peonies, ranunculus and dahlias). i have one huge white pumpkin (and a few small ones). i'm going to have a good supply of hokkaido squash, which i have to find a way to store and keep into the autumn. i'm drying herbs and freezing them down to cubes (with olive oil, i'm looking at you, basil) so that next winter future me will thank present me. but most of all, i'm enjoying hanging out there at the end of my days, watching my lovely indian running ducks, who are so quirky and sweet and shy but curious and rather talkative and social despite their shyness. 

all of this contentment in the garden coincides with contentment at work. i've recently had an enthusiastic go-ahead on two things that i proposed and i'm feeling very positive about being given time and space to just make cool shit. that's all i really want to do. i don't want to be anyone's boss, or get a big promotion. i just want to work with great people and make things i can be proud of, while having a bit of fun. and i'm in the position to do that now, due to the seeds i've planted. what a great feeling! maybe we really do reap what we sow. how did it take me so long to learn that?

garden progress

june 21

 july 16

almost a month apart. 

we've eaten the first zucchinis and broad beans and loads of herbs. and we can't keep up with the cucumbers, though having the child home helps. soon, there will be more tomatoes than we can eat, but those first ones will be so welcome. i replanted the strawberries, so no crop this year. but i supported a local farmer who sells them. that's ok too, though it didn't result in juice or any berries in the freezer (if i'm honest, i still have a bit of both from last year).

i'm growing indigo (it's just out of sight on the right), and i'm going to play with it next week. i'm on holiday, enjoying time with the child, sleeping in, making loads of good food, going for long walks, hanging out in the garden. it's a good summer. and i hope you're having a good one too!

holding on

it's time for a new toothbrush. i bought this one last november when i arrived in sioux falls without my luggage. after 15 hours on various flights, i was desperate to brush my teeth and insisted that my sister stop at a drugstore so i could get a toothbrush and toothpaste before we went to the hospital to see dad, who lay dying at the hospital. and somehow, this toothbrush has gotten bound together with dad in my mind and i can't bear to replace it. it's funny how that happens, how an ordinary object takes on a magnified significance in your mind.

i read a guardian piece yesterday about the significance of words when someone dies and i've been thinking about it ever since. i realize that i felt the opposite of author gary nunn about those words of condolence that people offered. the distancing phrases like "passing away" infuriated me, causing a slow boil inside that i had to keep bottled up. and everyone's need to say something or express how sorry they were also filled me with a rage that i had to stifle. i understand fully that people feel they need to say something, but losing dad felt like something that was mine and my mother's and my sister's and that no one could possibly understand it or be as sorry about it as we were. it felt private and solitary and so profoundly singular that no one else should have the right to say anything. i wanted to scream that at them and i wanted to run away from all those empty words that weren't going to bring him back.

and i guess in a way that i did run away from it, flying to london, determined to finish a project that i'd worked on for months. i don't regret doing that because it's the one gut feeling i had in the whole experience - that dad would think it was the right thing to do. but looking back, i think i was escaping all of those well-meaning but empty words of condolence. i wasn't able, at that time, to share dad's death with others.

while i was there, we had a storytelling evening, where well over a hundred people came to have a beer and share their stories about dad. it was that evening that i realized, to an extent, that i did share his death with the whole community and when it really hit me how important he had been to so many people. but i wasn't ready to share it yet then and i'm not even sure that i am now.

just last night, i woke up from a nightmare in which that horrible picture of him with a shirt and tie that didn't match at all was blown up poster size and displayed at the funeral. my dad, who was fired from his sports reporter job for refusing to wear a tie, immortalized with an awful tie on in that awful photograph. it still haunts me, even tho' we were able to get it switched out quickly in reality. i guess i'm having a hard time getting over it, just as it's hard to get over dad's death.

i think of him a lot as we're working in the garden. and i don't go around crying, it's more of an internal conversation with him that i have as i'm weeding or picking asparagus. i know he'd love to see our asparagus, it's finally doing well and there's enough for some for our meal almost every night. he would like that we have asparagus in the garden and i'd love to be able to talk to him about how our sandy soil and the right amount of horse poo seem to be perfect for growing asparagus. i think he'd also be impressed with our rhubarb. it's pretty shockingly prolific. he'd also get a big kick out of the way that our little molly cat loves to "help" out when i'm in the garden. it makes me smile to think of that. it feels like thinking of him in the garden helps the healing.

but i'm just not ready to let go of that toothbrush. so, i'm keeping it for now.

100 happy days :: day 39

a couple of solid days of sunshine in the garden. temps are still rather cool, but we soaked up the much-needed sunshine and optimistically planted and fertilized anyway. we started this pear  tree espalier and have divided our one big blackberry bramble into a whole row of individual plants that we are hoping to train to climb a similar setup on the other side of the garden. at last, the garden is starting to shape up into a manageable space that we feel we can actually really use. these things takes time and a lot of hard work. but seeing it begin to be something brings a great deal of happiness.

cataloging and compos(t)ing the weekend

i swear something happened to the blue of this photo in the upload. it doesn't look like that in iPhoto

a weekend of physical work outdoors. spring cleaning - of bunny cages, stalls, the chicken coop and the little barn where we store the chicken feed and feed the cats. plus lots of work in the garden. planting willow and moving some little oak trees. husband is creating a oak "hedge" in the middle of the garden to create a bit of protection from our ever-present west wind. cutting down last year's raspberry canes, working in the strawberry beds, preparing the soil for moving some asparagus that's way too close to the rhubarb (we didn't expect the rhubarb to do so well and get so big), fertilizing all of the fruit trees and bushes (that horse poo from the stalls had to go somewhere). it felt great. fresh, cool air. lots of sunshine (today at least). results that you can really see when you're finished. happy chickens. happy bunnies, happy horses. and the cats thought it was awesome that we were outside all day - molly and tiger thought we were there just to hang out with them. we even ate lunch in the garden today, it was so nice outside. tho' it clouded up and rained at the end of the day, i was tired by then anyway, so it was ok to go inside.

such a list of activities might sound a bit boring, but it felt so satisfying. there is something about honest, repetitive physical work and fresh air that soothes the soul. much of the time, i listened to various podcasts (99% invisible, radio lab and benjamen walker's theory of everything). it was good for my mind. the work was good for my body. and i think cleaning and tidying was good for my soul. it's just nice to do tasks where you see a concrete result when they are done. there's also something to there being no shortcuts. all of these things just take the time they take, there is no shortcut. i think it was just very good for me. i certainly feel much more at ease inside my skin at the moment. ready to welcome the week ahead with open arms, whatever it may bring.

* * *

i did quite a lot of reading this weekend as well. i've got several books of essays on the go. ursula le guin's the wave in the mind. i've never read le guin before, but i do admire the way she thinks and she says, "i think best in writing." i can so relate. i'm picking and choosing among the essays in this book, reading whatever grabs my fancy, but her thoughtful way of looking at the world definitely makes me want to read more of her work. i'm not sure why i never had read her before. i especially enjoyed her essay on fiction vs. non-fiction. 

i'm also reading siri hustvedt's book of essays, living, thinking, looking. i have enjoyed her novels, but these essays are grabbing me much less than le guin's at the moment. there is kind of a haughty, over-wise, pretentiousness in them that i'm just not in the mood for. it's rather disappointing, actually, as i normally love her work.

the last volume is musings on mortality edited by victor brombert. it's got pieces on the topic by such folks as tolstoy, kafka, camus (the reason i ordered it from the library) and virginia wolff. not exactly light reading.

i'm also reading all russians love birch trees, a novel by olga grjasnowa on my iPad via the kindle app. i am not impressed with the kindle app, i must say. i haven't actually read that many books that way and i've never used a real kindle. i, a great writer-inner-of-books from way back, cannot stand the dotted underlining of passages according to what others have underlined. the help claims you should be able to turn it off, but it doesn't seem to work, at least not in my version. i find it so distracting and it makes me just loathe it. the app, not the book. i'm enjoying the book. it's fiction that feels quite autobiographical, which is interesting in light of reading the le guin. she talks about the way that writers are influenced by their experiences and suggests that they form a kind of layer of compost from which the writer draws her fiction.

quite fitting to think of words that way when my weekend was spent in the garden, don't you think?

* * *

another thought-provoking look at the LEGO community

on the building debates blog.

* * *

go for a walk and find the answers to life, the universe and everything. 

* * *

this rather makes one not want to be on twitter.

* * *

this will give your brain pain. in a good way.

pinse planting

today was pinse, the last of the easter-related spring holidays that mean loads of days off in denmark.  it is ironic that the danes take that whole jesus thing so seriously when they're some of the least religious people i've ever witnessed, but hey they'll clearly take all the time off they can get. and so will i.

it was a great day for planting the garden. overcast, but warm and unusually still.  we've been preparing this piece of the garden for nearly two years. it's been covered in black plastic to kill off all of the weeds and husband has tilled in a bunch of cow poo as fertilizer. we have extremely sandy soil, which makes for great drainage, but which requires far more fertilizer. it's taken us three years to realize that.

molly, who is going to have her kittens any day now, had to inspect my work in the herb beds. i fear she thinks they're a giant litterbox, just for her.

she's so cute, i had to include another shot. it seems like her tummy just couldn't get any bigger. i can't wait to see her kittens.

here's a whole day's handiwork. we planted leeks (winter and summer), kale, red cabbage, carrots, beets, parsnips, asier (a kind of hearty cucumber), zucchini, squash, edible flowers, peas, borlotti beans, green beans, potatoes and shallots. look how happy our rhubarb is down at the far end. i've picked enough to make 6 liters of juice and a rhubarb crumble and it hasn't made a dent. apparently rhubarb loves sandy soil.

the strawberries are blooming. in just another few weeks, we'll be eating them and freezing them and making jam and juice. strawberries also seem to like sandy soil. and plenty of poo. it finally feels like we're getting the hang of this gardening thing.

there's the rhubarb. encroaching a little bit on my asparagus, which is also doing really well. two rows from seed - they have to grow one more year before we can harvest them, but the roots we planted the first year are producing very well and we've been eating asparagus for the past week. it's a short and fleeting season, but worth the wait.

our planting today made husband very happy. he said at one point that having a garden like this was like being in the john seymour books he so loved looking through during his childhood (and still does today, to be honest). it's a gradual process, but we're getting there.

watching the asparagus grow

at long, long last, it was a lovely day today. warm, sunny, light breezes. i swear you really could actually see the asparagus growing. tho' my dad needs to get back here and weed it again. the weeds, you can definitely see them growing, right before your very eyes.  i also planted 50 strawberries plants today. in a month or so, we're going to be so glad i did that. it's such a relief that spring seems to have actually come, i was really beginning to lose hope.

what the plants learned at school

today, as you can see, i haven't spent much time here...

that's because the weather has been beyond glorious outside, so i was called out into the garden by birds singing and sabin's cheerful voice and husband asking me exactly where i wanted that new purple rhododendron planted. so i came in the house only to make a big pitcher of fresh lemonade and then to make dinner late in the day. but we ate it outside. and now although it's nearly dark out, we've lit candles all over the garden and will stay out until we can't stay out there anymore. but first, i had to sneak in and share a bit of the gorgeousness with all of you...

in danish, a nursery--as in the kind for plants--is called a planteskole. i love that name, because it makes me think that the plants go there to learn how to behave when they come home to your garden.

and here's a bit of what the plants learned at school...

and then, after dinner, we ate our fill of these...the first of the local strawberries. with sugar and cream.

it would have been a fitting end to a wonderful weekend, but tomorrow's a holiday, so it's not over yet!

note: these photos are just as they came out of the camera. no retouching, no turning up the colors. they've never been near photoshop or lightroom and i didn't even do the little snazzy iPhoto enhance magic wand. nikons are just that good at color.