Take Joy!

Apropos of Nothing

This is the huge oyster mushroom we saw last time we went down to Charley Owen Park. (Which was, let's see . . . last weekend? The one before? Too much to do here to sneak away right now!) I just like it.

Other than looking at mushroom, we have been getting more garden in (John is out plowing now, since it's cooler). We drove out to Henn's yesterday and bought tomatoes and peppers and eggplants, since our home-started tomatoes and peppers have mostly succumbed to being lain on by cats. (Note to self: we must have a small greenhouse or a cold frame or something next spring! Keep an eye out for old windows.) I got a few more herbs (marjoram, roman chamomile, more chives), but I am mostly saving my money for Herb Days at the WNC Farmers' Market this weekend. Also a couple of Patio Tomatoes to grow in big pots on the side deck, so we can nip out and grab a bite-sized tomato or two. We hope so, anyway.

I worked on weeding one of the worst flower (hahaha) beds this morning and got a big wheelbarrow full, so we had happy goats and chickens. Then made stuffed macaroni shells and braided eggy bread for Karolyn's impending afternoon visit—which, unfortunately, didn't happen. They were moving furniture to West Virginia this weekend, and there was some confusion about getting the truck back to its home on time. They will be moving for good in a few weeks, so will stop by then . . . and in the meantime, we have an entire giant loaf of egg bread to eat, all by ourselves! And much more pasta than we need. I think I can freeze enough of it to feed them when they do show up, since we certainly don't need to eat it all.

Sam has been ill, moping around and not eating (but drinking) for a couple of days—apparently he got into something that did not agree with him. It might have been a vole, or some sort of plant, or possibly the baby possum he brought in to me on Friday night. (It was alive, and not very happy about Sam's attentions, either. John took it outside and we made Sam stay in all night. He wasn't happy, either. That's us—never a dull moment.) But this morning he came in and had a bit of smelly fish catfood, and graciously allowed me to pet him, and went back out under his recuperating bush. We noticed him wandering around his usual haunts this afternoon, so I assume he is on the mend.

You could practically see him muttering to himself, things like, "OMG, she moved my log! How dare she!" and "Someone has dug a hole in the middle of my wallowing patch!" After which he came back in and laid under the bed sneezing happily while I was attempting a short nap, despite the six cats on the bed who had the same idea, and who were there first.

Iva is home from the nursing home, and very happy about it. She has been forbidden the basement stairs, and her coffee table and throw rugs had to go, but everything else is pretty much back to normal. I made a bag for her walker, so she can carry things without having to deal with a purse:

(pardon my stellar photography; John was on the way to visit when I realized I had no picture). The checked bit across the bottom is a pocket. The tabs have velcro, so they just fit over the walker bar and close up.

Also, I have finished a couple of outfits for Bella and Sara (pictures later), and cut myself out a new apron—black with loads of lovely spring green ferns across it.

Saturday Morning

Species tulips in the front flower bed, along with the ubiquitous (around here, anyway) violets, daffodil foliage, and a dandelion . . . Supposed to be in the mid-80s here this afternoon; the laundry (rugs and winter blankets) is on the line, food has been cooked and eaten and cleaned up after, and I am going to sew for a while and then see about transplanting some tansy from the upper front bed (where it spreads, but refuses to bloom) around to the south side into a couple of big planters that had tomatoes in them last summer but now have only violets, and possibly potting up the three geraniums I bought at the produce stand the other day. And then maybe I'll take the last of the whole wheat bread down to the goats and William; they think it's a wonderful treat. And then we'll have ramps and fried potatoes and cornbread and country ham for supper, and after that I'll take the current crocheting project out on the side porch and work on it while I watch the cats and the birds (we saw a pair of courting downy woodpeckets in the side yard this morning) and the squirrels. And then we'll go to bed—with the windows open! Finally!

Sam Among the Garlic

We Went Down to the River

on Sunday, when it was misting rain and everything was grayed and quiet.

There are mayapples everywhere—I felt like Dorothy in the poppy fields.

We (meaning John; I walked along, and leaned on my stick, and took lots of not-very-good pictures, and tried to avoid at least some of the water dripping off the trees) fished a little, and walked further down, and fished a little more . . .

Bass and bluegill. (They all went back in the river.)

More rockstacks, too.

and a face
. . . possibly shrines to the river spirits?

Eventually, though, it rained harder and harder, so we gave up and squished back to the car. It's amazing how different things are when it's raining: quieter, but the birdsong is clearer. The whole world is hushed. We had a restful and reverent morning, even though we did look and feel like drowned rats when we got home.

I am going about my work: to bear witness to this part of the Old Mother's world.

Good Stuff to Look At

Here are the first two poems from Kathleen Stripling Byer's "Searcher," which has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. The rest can be read in Asheville Poetry Review; I need to acquire a copy posthaste.

African Alchemy is one of my favorite blogs—on her "about" page she says, Marya exploring the alchemy of place and relatedness from a homestead in Africa. Discovering the extraordinary in the everyday and listening with all the senses to a wilder rough magic both ancient and new… Yes. Lyrical and down-to-earth. You should read her, at least once—especially this post, and this one.

Catherine Kerr's blog, Beyond the Fields We Know, is one I've recommended before. But this post's poem, and the lovely photographs in this one, are well worth a second look.

Bedlam Farm Journal is mostly photos and occasional writing by Jon Katz, novelist and perceptive photographer. Lots of photographs of his four dogs (Rose, Izzy, Freida the Helldog and Lenore the Princess of Love); and he's currently posting a series of photographs of old stone walls.

Kalyn's Kitchen: Every recipe I've tried has been very good (especially this one, for Whole Wheat Spaghetti with Italian Sausage, Red Pepper and Hot Pepper Flakes), and they're mostly low-GI, which is handy since we're both diabetic.

I've just discovered Earthenwitch, and I really like her sense of humor.

Monday Tulips

For, lo, the winter is past,
The rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth;
The time of the singing of birds is come,
And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.
               —The Bible

This, That, and The Other

This is where I spent yesterday afternoon—out in the side yard, picking violet blossoms. I got a gallon of blossoms, which will translate into about 12 cups of infusion, probably, when I decant it this afternoon. It was lovely: birds singing (now I know what a titmouse sounds like, since I saw one singing; if I can only remember the sound!) and hopping about in the big tree, not paying me the slightest mind, and cool damp ground under my bare feet. I had help, also:

and supervision from afar (i.e., out of reach!):

While I picked, John potted out some little tomatoes; the peppers will be for today, I think. He also has celery and celeriac coming up in the trays, and maybe something else; I've forgotten. For supper we had chicken noodle soup made with the stock from the first-of-the-week's roast chicken, and the little bits off the bones, and some leftover noodles . . . and there's still enough meat for sandwiches once more, and maybe some chicken salad. It's gratifying to get three or four meals from a $6 chicken. And I still have two or three cups of stock left, too.

I finished another project from the $7.30 walmart fabric; a skirt for Eliza:

(The eyelet trim came from The Stash; Mom gave it to me from her stash last year. She's gradually transferring the contents of her attic—at least the fabric part—to my house, whether I have room for it or not. I don't, but that doesn't mean I turn anything down.)

And this is my other project-in-progress:

Faces for some dotee dolls, to be swapped at Doll Street. I haven't done any faces (or any dollmaking, for that matter) in a while, so I'm practicing.

Other than that, we've been either reading (when it rains: at least John is reading. I am waiting for my new glasses to come in at WalMart. Yes, I know. It's a long story.) or out in the yard, weeding madly. We have onions and garlic nicely up, and peas, and cabbage/broccoli/cauliflower; the rhubarb is two feet tall and wants cutting, and there are a few blooms on the strawberries already. We've gotten a little bit of asparagus (I can't remember which year this is for the asparagus bed; either the second or third); the bush cherries seem to have dodged the snow and have set fruit, I think; and the fig has leaves on a couple of branches. I have no idea whether it will leaf out or not, though; those single-digit nights may have done it in and we shall have no figs once again. Oh, well; figs are marginal here anyway. If it doesn't leaf out right away, there will be more light on the burdock and the nandinas, which I planted in a bad spot and am too lazy to move. Right now, anyway.

The catnip I put in before the weekend's rain seems to have taken hold nicely, other than the pot by the deck. (See previous post's picture; right after I took that, first Maggie, then LeeLee rolled in it. We are referring to it as the sacrificial catnip—it may die, so that the others may live.) The grapevines are gradually leafing out; there are several kinds, and they don't all begin at the same time. John put in two or three more this year, over by the beehives, as well as two heartnut trees and a . . . oh, shoot, I can't remember. Quince? Something that fruits, anyway. I planted a sweet autumn clematis in my round flower bed, and I'm going to start some marguerites from seed, I think, and nasturtiums . . . and herb days at the WNC Farmers' Market will be in a couple of weeks (the first weekend in May; if you're in the neighborhood, it's worth a stop. But parking—or the lack thereof—is horrendous. We're planning to get there early and sit in the car with books and crocheting until they open.), so I am saving all my available cash for that. I have seeds, but I'm lazy and would rather buy plants if I can get what I want without spending everything . . . the seeds will save unopened until next year.

Life's pretty good, you know? Even if sneezing cats do wake you up at 3 a.m. It's spring, after all.

Catnip: Shall I Eat It Now . . .

or let it grow larger? Decisions, always decisions! For a look at more critters (with or without catnip), nip over to The Friday Ark!

Love

Oh, what a catastrophe, what a maiming of love when it was made a personal, merely personal feeling, taken away from the rising and the setting of the sun, and cut off from the magic connection of the solstice and the equinox! . . . [W]e are bleeding at the roots, because we are cut off from the earth and sun and stars, and love is a grinning mockery, because, poor blossom, we plucked it from its stem on the tree of Life, and expected it to keep on blooming in our civilized vase on the table.
      —D.H. Lawrence

Happy Easter

from the Easter Flamingo

or, as he's familiarly known around here, the Easter 'Mingo.

His appearance was enjoyed by all—

(note the lizard pants!)

except, perhaps, Maggie.

Happy Easter, y'all!