Time for Communion, Time for Sharing

This morning I wandered my little acre with eyes and heart open to the offerings around me. Abundant offerings. I still witness so, so, so many rooted friends that I know little or nothing of, while others, so familiar, clamor for my attention - yet again. It's a humbling and inspiring experience, if not a bit overwhelming too. 

Sambucus canadensis pending flora.

Ribes nigrum, fuctus ripening and herba awaiting harvest.

A front yard patch of happy, smiling meadow.
What the neighbors must think.
And I hope they're thinking.

Fragaria virginiana herba waiting for harvest. And so patiently.

Beloved Trifolium pretense, my long-time friend and ally. 

Achillea millifolium, again. More to be harvested. More LoVe for the taking. And for the giving. In all directions. Ashe, sweet yarrow. Ashe.

The mighty Phytolacca americana. She thinks of buds, them flowers, then fruits. As we all do.

Ruta graveolens... the Herb of Grace. 

"Here in this place
I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace;
Rue, even for ruth, shall shortly here be seen,
In the remembrance of a weeping queen."
~The Bard  

Schisandra chinensis ponders ripening fruit that startles and delight with vibrant hue. 

Actea racemosa (though I *do* still call her Cimicifuga racemosa, privately, a love and honor shared between us). 
Even the pollinators dance about these buds, conjuring their spikes of sweetness, light in the shadow.

The wild Vitis species. The wild Vitis. There's some wisdom to consider. To embrace. To act upon.

And I look forward to her flora, fructus and herba. 
In Vitas veritas!

Inula helenium, conjuring her flower stalk, the sentry blooms that watch over a damp and patch of sacred earth on this little acre. 

Today, among other things, and while doing them, I'll be making note of the Green and Rooted wisdom that I've asked to be shared with me, gently, one-at-a-time-please, throughout this lovely, lovely day. So that I may share the wise and abundant blessings with you.

Peace.

Harvests, Infusions and Jarred Up Preserves

 Today I started an infused oil of thyme...

...harvested more mint to dry and jarred up last week's harvest...

... harvested some comfrey to start an infused oil and jarred up last week's harvest, of which this is only about half, and that's a one gallon jar, packed.

And the day's not over. Yet I sense a book in the shade on the deck as next up for me. And I'm sure the main vegetable garden will call to me before the sun get too low in the west.

That's what I made today. Peace.

Preparations for Open Studios and Open House Day at Whiting Mills

This weekend welcomes the Spring Open Studios at Whiting Mills in sunny Winsted, Connecticut... of which the first day coincides with Connecticut's Open House Day. So it will be busy weekend at the studio for me and the many other creative and inspired folk with whom this historical space is shared.

I have free gifts with Saturday purchases and giveaways going on both days, so if you're anywhere near the northwest hills of Connecticut this weekend, be sure to stop by Whiting Mills studio 310 a visit!

With that... there's preparations to get to... gotta run! Peace.

Way for Nature's Cue

Today is mild, damp and drizzly, so I'm getting more plants into the earth. Yesterday was warm, dry and sunny so I harvested herbs for drying.

As for tomorrow... I shall wait for Nature's cue, that is until it's studio time. Then I'll await Nona Muse's cue.

Peace.

Little Acre Botanical Magic

Yesterday I harvested the first batch of motherwort, my lion-hearted ally, Leonurus cardiaca. It hangs to dry in my little hut, and will likely be joining me to grace my studio space. I'll be harvesting a bit more to start a tincture. And a vinegar. And who knows what else?

Today I'm blending a ferment starter of rhubarb with some spruce tips that have been infusing in water a couple of days. It's an experiment inspired by Pascal Bauder to create some beverage flavors unique to my own backyard. I mean, heck, I've done these sorts of things in the past, but my conscious awareness is fully engaged now. And it delights me! And by the way, the spruce water alone is deliciously refreshing. 

Today I'll start harvesting a bit of lemon balm, my ol' friend, Melissa officinalis. And speaking of fermenting... if all goes as planned... Monday will involve more harvesting of this blessed botanical to start a batch of Melissa Ale. I found my notes from a batch made years ago that I simply adored. I'm hoping to recreate it... as close as Nature, that fickle wench, will allow. I remember it well and chuckled at my notes, "like a lemony iced tea with a kick."

As for the rest of the day, I have more plants to get into the earth, including these Jimmy Nardello Italian peppers, a favored heirloom pepper. In fact, these are the only peppers I'm growing this year.

So that's what been in the making, is in the making and what's yet to be made. Magic, all of it!

Peace.

Preparations for The May

May fast approaches and with it some major life changes here in my little realm. The spouse will once again become an integral and constant part of the daily homestead rhythm. He will be making art again. The apple and pear trees will bloom alongside the countless other lusty blossoms of May. 

Things will be shifting up, at home, in the gardens, around the little acre, at the studio, in my life. Like the garden beds I prepare for annual plantings, so too my life. Like the blooms of spring that yield harvests of beauty, challenge, nurturance and sustenance, so too my life.

Stay tuned! Peace.

Appreciation and Honor with Reason

March has been a month of focusing on green things. Between starting seedlings, planting cool-weather crops, wild harvesting, and preparing the tax nuisance, all things green have been in the forefront of my mind and my will. Some of the tasks are more pleasurable than others. Know what I mean? 

I've been enjoying wandering my little acre and observing my rooted friends awake from their mild winter slumbers into this early spring. Odd weather aside, I'm always delighted to see the return of this little green ally, Hypericum perforatum, known in the Wise Woman Tradition of herbalism as Saint Joan's wort, yet better known in the conventional world as Saint John's wort. It took me years to convince her to make a home on my little acre. She's now making herself quite at home, showing up around the "lawns" and in my main vegetable garden too. I've learned to give her authority in her choice of rooting, and she grows where she choses, with limited intervention from me. Though I do remind her that I appreciate her playing nice and sharing with our other rooted friends.

Yesterday I harvested this non-native wild invasive, Allaria petiolata, commonly called garlic mustard. My goal was to clean up some the "proper" gardens and to start the first batch of garlic mustard infused vinegar.

So the the whole plants were washed, the roots separated and chopped, add to a quart jar, topped with as much aerial plant matter as would gently fit and filled it up with apple cider vinegar.

In eight weeks or so I strain, filter, bottle (and label) it to use as is or to mix with other infused vinegars. I love using this super-abundant plant in this way, the root vinegar reminds me a bit of horseradish, and I have added it to many a Fire Cider variation over the years.

As the season progresses I'll continue harvesting this plant to ferment and dry the roots, to use the leaves in various pestos and dry some as well. And to infuse more vinegar too.

When it comes to our non-native invasives, I choose to step-off the track of convention, which has enjoyed too-long a history of demonizing Nature. Instead I choose to learn more about them and how to work with them, to appreciate them for what they have to offer, and to honor the truth that they're here for a reason.

Peace.

Spirals, Spirals, Spirals.

Winter feels like it never quite arrived here on my little acre, yet here we are, mere weeks to the vernal rebirth. So saved seeds are inventoried, several are started, some planted, and still more ordered to honor the spiraling return of annual activities of nurturance, sustenance, legacy and honor.

I finished this, one of several recent Creative journeys. A return to portals and a sweet reminder of the spiral and value of journey over destination, on so many levels.

 I made this recipe:

Banana Cacao Finger Cakes
4.5 cups unbleached flour
1 Tablespoon baking powder
.5 teaspoon salt
1.75 cups sugar
1 cup butter
4 bananas, mashed
4 eggs
1 Tablespoon vanilla
1 cup cacao nibs

Measure and blend the first three dry ingredients. Set aside.
Cream the sugar and butter, blend in the mashed bananas, blend in the eggs and vanilla.
Add the dry ingredients to the wet in two waves, mixing well at each, mixing in the cacao nibs before the second wave. Know what I mean?
Spoon onto a cookie sheet (I lay down unbleached parchment), bake at 400F for about 11 minutes. Cool on a rack and enJOY! That's how I did it, anyway. And they came out quite good.
And baking - anything Food - invokes more spiraling.

And my winter finger spun fiber project has yielded 6 balls of upcycled cotton "yarn." I'm not sure of the linear measure that was produced, but I do know that, once the fabric was ripped and tidied, it took an hour to create 3 linear yards of "yarn." This Creative journey also yielded a nice, rough callus on my right thumb and forefinger, the fingers that work the spiraling fibers.

So that's what I've been up to: Spiraling. Spiraling. Spiraling. Back to the vernal verve of spring.

Peace.