Falling for Autumn



 It is already full dark and not yet 7 o'clock in the evening. Fall is upon us. As much as I lament the loss of summer, there is a sweet anticipation in the Fall, when the leaves turn and crackle underfoot and the air is chill and tainted with smoke. Not quite mittens, but certainly sweater time, and a fine time for brisk walks. hot tea and good company. Today, I took the garden out.

Squash, beans and tomatoes nearly filled my basket. I managed to rescue a couple of ripe Black Krims from bandity raccoons - their greedy paws and sharp teeth snatching the best from the vine (how do they know?). The rest I'll ripen safely indoors, wrapped in newspaper in a cardboard box. The herbs are neatly trimmed and the little space under the stairs looks a bit barren as a few straggling vines cling to the trellis and the tomatoe stakes stand empty.

Yesterday, we attended one of the last outdoor Farmer's Markets for the year. A gloomy, overcast day broke into clear sunshine and blue sky and market-goers lingered, having formed friendships over the summer, sharing recipe ideas and pointing out favourite vendors.

Loaded stalls were filled with summer's harvest. Cranberries and carrots, squash, garlic, celery, potatoes and peppers, cauliflower (*swoon*) and corn. Honey. And mushrooms, those earthy, naked denizens of Fall.  We filled up packsacks and shopping bags and brought a bounty home with us.

I devoted  the afternoon to cranberry sauce making.Thanksgiving is just around the corner - next weekend for those of us in Canada, and Christmas is not just a remote possibility any more.

Tonight I am making fresh Cream of Celery and Autumn Mushroom Soup. Fresh pungent celery and King & Enoki mushrooms. It is simmering on the stove as a type. There is that sweet anticipation, again. Soup. Soon. Yum.

And the other anticipations - what will winter bring? And the pause as the garden slumbers - what will grow there next year?

Autumn is like the rest between the notes in music, so important  in the composition. Fall, it seems, makes me a little philosophical too. How about you?

In a Happy Garden

There is a way that tending a garden brings out our goodness. Caring for soil and seedlings, watering and feeding - there is no fundamental requirement to plant flowers and shrubs, ornamental beds and borders, yet somehow we are compelled to put hands in earth and tease tiny sprouts from the dark dirt.

I recently visited my mother's rooftop garden - a place she has transformed from a rickety tar and gravel outpost above her business to an intriging, tranquil green space that manages to be both soothing and whimsical (a little like her, actually).

What refreshment it is to sit in this leafy flowering place and contemplate a cup of tea and toast with jam. A little buddha statue sits unperturbed and inscrutable amid lobelia, herbs clamour out of their pots and Picasso petunias flirtily display their fushia and lime-green loveliness. And never mind the happy-faced pansies sticking their noses into everything.

Beans, peas, lettuce and cucumbers compete for root space and riot out of window boxes and across tabletops almost as though they are unbearably happy to be growing and eager to be plucked for salads, soups and snacks.

This is full-hearted gardening and perfect profusion. Un jardin d'amour.

Loving Up the Garden

Crazy for loving up the garden today! Yesterday, I harvested the first few lettuce leaves which became a yummy salad for me and hubby. And today I have four gallon-size hierloom tomatoes to plant and stake. Black Krim, Tiger Stripe, Italian Paste and a gorgeous looking Yellow Brandywine Beefsteak. Just imagine how pretty my salads are going to be. The scarlet runner beans are beginning to climb. The peas are are getting bushy, and despite a woeful lack of sun (please Mr. Sun, stay out!), my basil is valiantly leafing out and devoting a few stalks here and there to spicing up our lunches and dinners.

And speaking of herbs...I do need to sing the praises of my rosemary - well, not just mine, but rosemary wherever it grows. What a delightful, hardy, spicy, aromatic useful little tree-bush this is! Mine grows really well for me. I have it in-ground and I also keep a pot of it on the deck for quick access when I'm cooking up a storm. I can also move the pot close to the house for warmth and winter it over (I wrap mine in little white twinkle lights in the winter, which help to keep the plant warm and look absolutely gorgeous through the sliding doors at Christmastime).

I use sprigs of rosemary mixed in with cut flowers and I love to stick a sprig into a ribbon to decorate a parcel or gift. I once used it to decorate the table for a dinner party, tucking it into napkin rings for each guest. I thought one of the couples coming to visit might be in a tiny bit of tricky water, and since rosemary symbolizes fidelity ... well, it couldn't hurt! The couple seems to be doing really well these days and I like to think it had something to do with this friendly little herb - and possibly the support of good friends, good food and good intentions.

Long known as the herb of remembrance, rosemary symbolizes loyalty and friendship and has traditionally been associated with both weddings and funerals. Believing the gift came from Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, brides wore it in wreaths as a symbol of their fidelity.

A Home for Herbs

A home for herbs! Having been gifted some lovely scented herbs and being woefully short of available garden space, I decided to plant them in a box - which means I can move them into different locations as the mood strikes or space requires, and at the same time contain their growth - anything in the mint family can rapidly take over (although to be honest, I can't say I really mind). Mint is good for the tummy, a delicious addition to lamb dishes and iced teas and, I hear, discourages ants. I planted up the start of the scented herb collection in a cheapest-of-the-cheap wooden box that my hubby painted with a light stain - purposely leaving it rough. I added some touches in keeping with the bird motif using a combination of decoupage and stencilling. Catmint, spearmint and lemon balm are all happily crowding together in the new box and I plan to add scented geraniums and bee balm (bergamot). These herbs smell great, add colour and zing to cookery, soothe nerves and are a paradise for local bees. As we exclaimed in the 70's..."Mint!"

"What is Paradise? But a Garden, an Orchard of Trees and Herbs, full of pleasure, and nothing there but delights." ~ William Lawson, 1618.

Birds on the Brain

The bird picture is finished and on display in my shabby chic garden - it is a kind of an outdoor parlour where hubby and I can take view breaks - simply rest, watch the river and listen to the lettuce grow. I am feeling self-satisfied and absolutely floored by how I have fallen for the bird and bird-related motif. Inspired partly, I think, by the abundance of bird-feeders my neighbours have perched throughout our common garden. Sweet little birds come and go all day ... and we get to watch & listen. So it is a bird theme for our garden and who knows where next? I'm thinking the bedroom as I've also fallen hard for the Chinoiserie line designed by Dwell Studios, worth an online visit: http://www.dwellstudio.com/modern-home-decor/dwellstudio-collections/chinoiserie.html

And, with birds on the brain, here is something worth twittering about - a beautiful excerpt from the poem Mockingbird, by Mary Oliver

This morning

two mockingbirds

in the green field

were spinning and tossing

the white ribbons

of their songs

into the air.

I had nothing

better to do

than listen.

I mean this

seriously.

Sewing in the Garden

Sitting in the garden today - sometimes sunny, sometimes cloudy - sewing. Or, at least my version of sewing which involved hand-basting pillow covers for my new-old chairs. I found these toile de jouy covers in my fabric bin - no idea why they were sitting there ready-made by me. I think I made them for a redecorating project for my niece and she rejected them (sigh) and we replaced them with denim. Anyway, happily for me, no more effort required than to baste them closed and plop them, and then myself, on the chairs. A good excuse to sit in the sun and admire the river and the rhododendrons. While I was at it I performed an arm surgery on my little stuffed bear (named, creatively, 'Baby Bear'). He lost his tail and part of his wee arm to an enthusiatic doggie visitor. Looks pretty good, too!