Preparing for Autumn

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The weather turned chilly at the end of last month, and the nights have stayed that way.  Slowly the trees are turning from green to orange and red.  The smallish people have started to adjust to school, the fall raspberries are ripening, and hoodies are becoming standard morning attire.

Fall is most definitely coming.  I see it in the way the vines and tomato plants are dying down, as I rush to harvest the last of the Sungold tomatoes, our favorites.  The San Marzano tomatoes are ripening as well, and they are the best for sauce.  Tickets for our fair are on sale, and extra blankets are back in use.

Now that the wedding is over, Eli and I have turned our attention to preparing for the cold weather.  The chimney sweeps come next week to make sure the wood stove is clean and safe, and wood needs to be ordered.  Tomatoes still need to be canned, the rest of the basil needs to be turned into Pesto and frozen, and there’s Tomatillos to turn into Salsa Verde, so this weekend, in and around our usual things, is a canning weekend.  I’ve got the first 2 batches done, and there’s more to come.

We have 4 pumpkins ripening in the garden,  plus one white one that has already taken up residence on the porch.  4 more is enough for Halloween and some roasted pumpkin dishes besides, although we’ll probably let the kids do the pumkin patch thing – the rule for us is that you can pick a pumpkin as big as you can carry.  One of ours will hopefully be put aside for my favorite Christmas side dish, the wildly indulgent Dorie Greenspan recipe for Pumpkin Stuffed with Everything Good.

Over the next few weeks, air conditioners need to be pulled out of windows, and we need to finally finish the garden fence and gate before we tuck the garden in for the winter.  All this work will allow us to settle into the holidays and then winter, and relax.

Which is good because we’re ready for the pace of things to slow down a bit.  This year has been a busy one, full of projects and changes, and when we take stock, Eli and I are both proud of what we’ve accomplished and also just, well, really tired.

Tonight is a repeat performance of Chicken Souvlaki Bowls – it’s grey, rainy and chilly out, so we’ll enjoy sitting inside, with some of the last of the season’s sunflowers to keep us company.  Summer has a few days yet, and we are going to relish them all, but look forward to more chilly nights and warm days to come.

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August Food

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I admit it – as much as I love summer, love salads with fresh lettuce from our CSA, love making pickles and picking berries, and love getting away to the mountains as we do every year, I’m ready for fall.  Which means on some level, my garden enthusiasm for the year is starting to slowly wane.  It’s funny, I get like this every year just as the preserving, which I truly enjoy, ramps up.  It’s as though I know if I power through a few more weeks of Salsa Verde, Oven-canned tomatoes, and homemade salsa, I can start to rest on the literal fruits of my labors.

Of course, there’s the garden clean up to do in late fall, and this year we finally need to finish that last fence section, but in about 6 weeks the only thing left to do will be to pick the last pumpkins and squash and put the garden to bed for the winter.

I finished off the pickle making with one last batch of the bread and butter type.
We have enough pickles to put jars on every table at the wedding, and plenty for us as well.  There’s more pesto, to make,  of course.  Canning tomatoes and tomatillos is coming, but not quite yet – our harvest is increasing by the day but the volumes aren’t there yet.  I am ready for chilly nights, pumpkins on the porch, and no more weeding.  I want roasted vegetables, a pot of soup on the stove, and lazy weekend mornings followed by apple picking.  I want to be able to put on a pair of jeans without them sticking to my skin, and a pair of boots.

I love the 4 seasons.  I used to think I hated winter, but then I moved to South Florida for a couple years and while I loved so much about it – Florida is so much more than Disney and hot – it wasn’t home.  Since then I’ve come to like winter – the stillness of it, the softness of falling snow, even the ice.  I work from home more than half the time, which makes it easier – when the weather is bad I don’t have anywhere I need to be, and if I’m traveling, it’s hotels and no shoveling.  Winter is peaceful.  We don’t rush off to ski every weekend – I don’t ski at all – and often the most exciting thing to do, other than training runs for me, is to plan what’s for dinner.

Spring is exciting – there’s seeds to plant and outside to be excited about. Every time the first of our crocuses bloom, I get a thrill.  I still remember the first year here, watching the gardens unfold into flowers and greens.  That excitement never changes, nor does my optimism about my gardens.

But fall is by far my favorite season, with all it’s New England-y assets.  There’s the colors of the leaves, and the crunch of the way they feel under my feet.  There’s hot apple cider with cinnamon sticks.  The way the air smells, clean and crisp.  For us, there’s the Topsfield Fair, which for 10 days in October every year turns our town into candy apple-covered mob scene, complete with giant pumpkin contests and fried whatever-on-a-stick.

The garden will wind down , the wedding and all it’s associated planning and projects will be over, and once the fair comes to an end, there’s nothing other than starting to get ready for winter to be done.  For us that’s firewood delivery – we’ve used up most of the viable firewood the previous owner left us, insulating windows and doors, and making sure storm windows are ready.  A brand-new firewood rack for the porch should be here soon too, something we’ve been needing to get for a bit now.

For today though, sunflowers are in bloom at the farms nearby and the temperature hit a high of 89 degrees – it’s hard to imagine being cold again.  The idea of no fresh-picked salads, no sweet corn, no roadside farm stands is almost impossible to contemplate.  I want the fresh food to linger while the days cool, an impossible feat.

That said, I’m hearing small complaints of boredom with the grilled-chicken-and-salad-with-side-of-corn-on-the-cob repetition, which are probably the smallish people’s way of communicating their readiness for a change in seasons as well, or maybe just Mom’s lack of inventiveness on the subject of dinner.  So tomorrow we are having taco night, complete with Instant Pot Carnitas, homemade guacamole, and all the toppings.  I know when my ratings are dropping, and clearly, action is required.

Still, we’re in the home stretch of summer, and I might throw in some grilled corn just because I can.

 

 

 

Late Summer Delicacies

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This evening my daughter is off to a wedding with her father and grandparents, and my son stayed behind with Eli and I – he’s a little young as an attendee for evening weddings yet, and mostly happier to be left behind.

He dug his own little garden and planted, telling me that while he’s not sure yet he wants to be a gardener, he might be so he’s giving it a try.  And maybe we’ll get some late season flowers and wax beans as a result, which never hurts.

I spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen, canning and preserving.  Pesto, pickles, and a start at tackling the bounty from our trip to pick blackberries, which typically ripen around now, just in time for my birthday.   I’m not quite sure yet what we’ll do with the ones we don’t freeze, but I’m leaning towards Blackberry Financiers, which are a favorite and store and freeze well, for a summery treat in the cold and dark of winter.   I have some wild Maine blueberries too – the net of this is that in and around the tasks we have in the final 12 days leading up to our wedding, there’s a lot of food to put up.

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Which is why lunch was a simple arrangement of tomatoes and cucumbers from the CSA, basil from the front yard, and red pepper and feta spread with mozzerella from the farm we picked the blackberries at. Simple, tasty and absolutely beautiful, as summer food should be.

Dinner was slightly more involved, but only slightly – Rosemary Ranch Chicken, fresh corn, couscous and salad, but still one of those fresh summer meals that fills without leaving you feeling too full.  I’m sitting and listening to the cricket chorus, and our sunflowers are in full bloom, both sure signs that summer is coming to an end.

We are just a few days away from the wedding, and deep in the throes of both house projects and of food preservation for the summer.  So far we’ve put up several kinds of berries and made pesto and canned pickles – both the bread and butter and dill kind – and blanched and frozen kale.  The tomatoes, peppers and tomatillos are just starting to ripen, which means September weekends will be filled with sauce-making and salsa verde.

Summer meals are best when light, leaving the intracacies of cooking for the colder months.  Eli is always ready to grill, and we have a salad to complement our meal most nights.

Summer is, when done right,  is easy and delicious.  Soon it will end, and with that ending comes the chilly nights and more complex meals and flavors – curries, roasts, soups and root vegetables.  But for now, I’m grateful for the bounty of the season, for the pleasure of picking my Sungold tomatoes for the season and adding them to our butter lettuce from the CSA.  This is the time of year where everything is delectable, right outside the door, and for far too short a time, readily available.  I love all the seasons, but I will miss the summer lettuces and cucumbers, even when I happily trade them for squash and pumpkins.

For now though, I am reveling in the bounty that our warm season brings.  I hope you are as well.

 

Pickle Time

 

It’s a sleepy, IMG_1034 (1)chilly morning here already – 54 degrees, which is a little odd for August.  It almost feels like fall is arriving early, but this is New England, so we’ll likely get a heat wave soon.

It’s been a while – not because I was too busy (although I was pretty busy) or because I ran out of things to say, which I do once in a while, but because just as life was humming along with the final wedding details being ironed out, the downstairs bathroom renovation moving along, and the garden starting to produce tomatoes, my computer died.   And died just as I was about to kick off nearly 4 weeks of nonstop travel, which made the shopping for a new one a bit complicated.

While losing my computer for a few weeks wasn’t the end of the world – I have other electronics – it was beyond irritating, not in the least because it was yet another unplanned expense.  But today I finally made the time to sneak out and acquire my fabulous new HP Chromebook, and I am already in love.  I carry my laptop everywhere, and this one is going to be a pleasure to use every day.

So let’s see…where was I before all of that?

The garden is once again a jungle, this time of tomato plants, rather than the squash run amok from last year.  Sungolds are ripening, and this year, having trained the squashes and pumpkins up, they are not the majority of the chaos.  I planted a lot of tomatoes, and I think in a few weeks I may begin to regret that.

But despite that and all the busy, this year I’m making more time to preserve the fruits of my – and the CSA’s – labor.  The first of our endeavors was to freeze strawberries and raspberries that we had picked, but the more labor-intensive but utterly worth it effort was put into making bread and butter pickles, which are a favorite of mine.  Our CSA has had several weeks of all-you-can-fit-in-your-bag pickling cucumbers, and I’m taking advantage.

The key for pickles is the prep.  Salting and soaking the cukes, making the brine, prepping the jars.  Other than just setting the expectation that you’ll get a few dish towels messy while ladling the cucumbers into the jars, and you really do need a jar lifter so you don’t burn yourself,

It will take about 2 hours from start to finish to make 5-6 quarts, but in the end you will have the best pickles you have ever tasted.

I learned from my neighbors that pickle crisping additives can be replaced by putting a single grape leaf at the bottom of each jar.  Since they happen to have mature grapevines and don’t mind when I crib a few leaves here and there, I availed myself of them.  That said, there’s plenty on the market if you don’t happen to have neighbors with grapevines.

Today I’m on to dill pickles – I like this recipe from Practical Self Reliance, but there’s a lot of good ones out there.  The key for dill is to use pint jars and make sure you are using a recipe meant for canning.

Canning your own food is not scary.  I repeat, not scary.  Anyone can do it, I promise.  And when you are done you will have the best

You need:

Jars
Jar lifters
Couple dish towels
Wet towel for wiping off the rims of the jars
Big pot of water
Recipe for pickles (or whatever)

That’s it.  Add to that a couple hours on a Sunday afternoon, and you will have deliciousness to eat and give away.  And here’s the great news – you can often find jars free (get the lids and bands new) and once you have them, reuse them.  This can be a cheap, and tasty, hobby.

Happy pickling!

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Summer Bounty

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I woke up this morning a little too early, with morning rain rolling in.  The kids have been with their grandparents this week, but they are finally due home later today.  It’s a mellow week – I work for a few days, then we’re off to the mountains for a bit.

The combination of rain every few days combined with sun means the gardens are growing and everything is lush and beautiful.  The chickens are let out most days to perform one of the most critical jobs on the farmlet – eating ticks and other bugs.  Deer ticks are a huge problem here in Massachusetts, and chickens are one of the best defenses for our little space.  They view them as nothing so much as tasty snacks.

Our CSA started up a few weeks ago, and is supplying us with lots of greens.  We are enjoying salads almost nonstop.  My current favorite is a little feta, some lettuce and tomatoes, a sliced-up mango, avocado, and toasted pumpkin seeds.  It’s a really great combination of savory, sweet and sour,  but really any type of salad this time of year will do.

We’ve mostly jettisoned pre-made salad dressing for the simplest and most delicious kind – squeeze one lemon over the salad, add salt, pepper, and olive oil, and toss.  I’m never going back to a bottle of dressing.  Ever.

We’ve also been getting broccoli and kale in enough volume that it’s time to start blanching and freezing it for the cooler weather.  It seems almost ridiculous in June to be planning for winter, but it always comes, and the more food I preserve now, the less we will need then.

The Honey Locust tree is in bloom, dropping waterfalls of  beautiful white flowers all over the driveway.  The blooms last only a few days, but create the sense that driving up to the house is a Hollywood dream sequence, with flowers wafting over you in slow motion.

The garden is growing beautifully, and other than the rabbits that tunnel under the fence a la Peter in Mr. McGregor’s garden to compete for the bounty, we should have an amazing harvest this year.  It’s a late-summer garden, mostly tomatoes and peppers because of the effort to build and finish it, but it’s almost time to add fall greens, and finish the fence and gate.  In the middle sits a small fig tree, planted just a few weeks ago, but starting to leaf.

All in all, we planted 5 fruit trees this year – a Cinnamon Spice apple to replace the one that is dying and needs to be removed (it tastes just like it sounds), a Seckel pear, 2 apricots, one an Iranian variety, and one a Japanese Ume type, and the fig tree in the middle of the garden.  My dwarf cherry didn’t survive the winter, but I will wait until next year to try again on that.  I bought my trees from Trees of Antiquity, started by a preservationist in order to save some of the older, less planted species.  Since preservation is part of what is so important to me here, paying a teensy big extra to know that I’m continuing a line of trees that has grown for hundreds of years makes me smile every time I see the tiny leaves growing on what amounted to little more than sticks with roots when they arrived.

One thing that has been critical in building and preserving this land is amending the soil.  Last year nearly 16 yards of organic compost went into the new garden, and this year I’m adding more everywhere I plant.  The mostly ignored front of the house got some newly-divided daylilies from the Moms, but when I started digging I realized the soil was mostly dust.  A few buckets of compost later, the daylilies are preparing to bloom.

I never grow tired of listening to the rain, especially when I can just sit and enjoy it.  All too often, I sit on Saturday mornings and make a to-do list.  But this morning I decided that despite all the important things that must be done, so too is it important for me to reflect on how far we’ve come since that cold December night when the children and I first arrived.  Not even 3 years yet, and we’ve added so much to this place.  And it keeps adding to us.

I hope your home brings you as much joy as ours does.

How Does My Garden Grow – June 2019

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It’s foggy this morning, but finally back to being warm, after a week of weather chilly enough that we caved and put the heat on at one point.  The outcome of the rain and chill is a landscape that is even more impossibly lovely and magical than before.  Living here in this fairy-tale landscape is a gift.

I’m giving up a day in the garden today for a milestone with my daughter – after 2.5 years of dedicated work, she’s off to her first horse show.  All week we’ve been madly prepping – an extra lesson, shopping for all the attire she needs, polishing boots and packing snacks and extra clothes for the day.  It’s not the kind of thing we can budget for frequently, but it’s worth every dime.  My daughter, who generally asks for nothing, wanted this more than anything.

We’re deep in getting the garden together, but we also took a little time out to introduce the chickens to the yard.  It’s time for them to start earning their keep by eating ticks and other garden pests.  Statler the chicken, one of our adored Polish breed, took a bit of time to explore whether tree-climbing was also a ‘chicken thing’.  We’re not sure what she

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thinks but she seemed more interested than distressed.  Her sister, Waldorf, and their other companions seemed to find the earth more interesting.

Eli and I have been hard at work on the garden.  It’s a combination of building, weeding and planting at the same time.  We need to finish up in the next couple weeks so we can turn our attention to projects on the house itself.  This is some hard work, but it’s also a labor of love.   We’ve managed to plant tomatoes of all sorts, peppers, both the sweet and spicy kind, cauliflower, spinach, Brussels sprouts, lots of herbs, rhubarb, carrots, a couple sugar pumpkin plants, and a Japanese cucumber we are trying out this year.   So far, so good.   The Thai basil is looking a bit sad, but I think a little heat will perk it up.

We’ve mostly gotten the flowers planted as well, with the only holdouts being the two climbing rose bushes that we got to train up the butterfly gate.

Still to go are more tomatoes, more greens, butternut squash, and a few other things.  In August I’ll plant some more kale and greens.  I didn’t get to tomatillos or beans this year, but 4 new fruit trees are set to arrive any day – Japanese and Iranian varieties of apricots, a Seckel pear, and a fig tree.  This year, we’ll take extra caution with protecting the new trees for winter, since the bitter cold has devastated the ones I have planted to date.

Eli has taken on most of the construction tasks while I weed, move dirt and plant.  We’ve gotten a 5th garden bed built and planted already, and next weekend at least 6th should get done, if not more.

The garden with 5 beds planted

It’s looking beautiful, and I find it nearly impossible to describe how it feels to dream of a potager garden and then see it come to life.   The old bricks I used for the first few beds will eventually need to be replaced, and there’s still a full half of the garden to build, but it’s transforming before my eyes into the paths and beds of my daydreams, complete with Hollyhocks along the front edge.

This was the beginning.  This was the daydream that became a sketched plan over tea with my neighbor, that became an almost-finished fence and brick beds that became the place where I go to play in the sunshine.  So much labor and time went into it.  Sweat equity that I treasure as much as the finished product.  When I look back over my life, it is the things that I’ve built and grown and tended that matter the most.

My children.  Eli.  And this place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Motherhood and Gardens

Sithean May 11 2019

This morning I woke up early  to cook for the Mother’s Day brunch we are hosting at noon today.  I probably could have opted to do nothing instead of making Butternut Squash Lasagna, Asparagus Tart, Deviled Eggs, and some other treats, but I take a lot of joy in feeding people, and work though it is, it’s pleasurable work to have the people I love around me.

After everyone leaves, I’ll turn my attention to the garden if the weather holds. After weeks of nearly nonstop rain,  I was able to spend some time cleaning up and working on it yesterday.  Of course, now finishing it is going to be a mad rush before I have to plant, but this is a permanent structure, with finishing it being a one-time job.  It needs a final fence section, a gate, some last bits of compost spread, and only 4 of the 11 garden beds got built before giant squash plants ran amok last summer.  I need to be done by the beginning of June, but I’m not worried this year – I’ve got some help, and the work isn’t that daunting.  And even if it is, I’ll get done what I get done.  This place is the work of a lifetime.

Spring is in full bloom here, and the rain has made everything green and lush and blossoming.  The school year is winding down with concerts and events absorbing our time, and summer planning is in full swing. Eli and I have some inside projects to do too – painting the downstairs hall, sanding and re-staining the front porch, and some work on the downstairs bathroom.  Between that and both of our jobs, we’re likely to have a very busy and exhausting summer.

But also a lush and beautiful one.  The seedlings, which are in the process of hardening off, will grow into vegetables, and herbs.  Several fruit trees will be planted, new ones and a replacement for my cold-hardy cherry that didn’t survive the winter.  More trees will need to come down, some of them because they are dying, others because they pose a threat to the house.  Pine trees are great for wildlife but their root systems are shallow, and I’ve already had one fall on the house after a windstorm.  I’m working on reducing the risk.

That’s how summer works on a farmlet.  We do our share of relaxing, and there’s few things I like better than to just go out and weed in the sunshine, but from May 1st on, it’s pretty high-energy until we put the garden to bed in November.

Being a gardener is much like being a mother.  You add food, water, attention and love and a home, and you hope that you aren’t too tired and flawed to muck up the growing process.  Sometimes you screw up, run out of time and energy, or just wish for a break.  But in the end, you hope that your children, like your garden, bloom.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the amazing mothers out there.  May you, and your children grow and thrive.

K & C May 9

 

 

 

Asparagus Day

First Asparagus 2019

 

I love waking up before anyone else is stirring on the weekends. It gives me time to think and write.  I feed the bunnies and the ever-growing chicks, water my seedlings, and take a look at the yard and garden.  I was gone for 3 days this time, and it felt like a lifetime.  I left with a few things in bud.  I returned yesterday morning in a chilly rain, to spring having exploded around me.  The peach and apple trees are in bud, the raspberry bushes are starting to once again take over the yard, and the daffodils are out.

I’m lucky enough to have a thriving career, and I love what I do, even if it means time spent away from home.  The surprise and joy of seeing how Sithean changes from day to day next never ceases to impress me- the setting here means there’s always something new on show.

Last year, just as the garden and yard started to produce, I got about as busy as a human can get at work.  I put up less than an eighth of what I had planned to, and a lot of the garden went to waste.  This year, with Eli’s help, the big garden will get finished, and we will preserve more of our food. The seedlings are growing quite large, and it’s almost time to start hardening them off, and planting some early cold-weather crops like Edamame and Lettuce.

Seedlings April 2019

But nothing, nothing is more exciting than when the asparagus bed starts to produce.

Starting in early April, I check the asparagus bed every opportunity I have.  Usually starting way too early in the season.  But it’s hard to wait –  fresh asparagus tastes nothing like it’s grocery-store counterpart.  It is sugary sweet and ideally picked about 2 minutes before it is cooked.

This morning while it was still dripping,  I went out to feed the animals and wandered over.  And lo and behold, it was there.  I couldn’t resist picking it on the spot, even though it’s too early in the day to eat it.  This year we seem to be getting an actual spring, if a slightly soggy one, and I think that means we’ll get a bumper crop.

Asparagus can be boiled and then salted and served, or, my favorite, broiled with olive oil, salt and lemon.  Grilled.  Wrapped in bacon or prosciutto and baked.  The simple possibilities are endless.

But if you want to get really fancy, as I will for our annual Mother’s Day brunch here, you make Carolyn Roehm’s Asparagus Fontina Tart.  It is simple, and beautiful enough to replace flowers as a centerpiece.  I sometimes add tomato slices in a spiral under the asparagus, which adds flavor and beauty, but you could just as easily top it with a few edible pansies and serve as-is.

8 ounces frozen puff pastry thawed overnight in the refrigerator
1/2 cup Fontina cheese
16-20 stalks of asparagus, cut to about 4 inches long

  1. Preheat the oven to 375
  2. Roll out the puff pastry on a floured surface until about 1/4 inch thick or slightly thinner than that.  Use a saucepan to cut an 8-10″ round and return to the fridge to chill for 20 minutes
  3. Remove the pastry and place on a greased baking sheet – I like olive oil for this.  Pierce the pastry with a fork all over
  4. Arrange the asparagus in a spoke with a few asparagus tips in the center, upright
  5. Cover with the cheese to about 1/2 inch from the edges
  6. Bake for 20 minutes until puffed and golden and you can pierce the asparagus with a fork.
  7. Serve warm or cool

You’ll look like Martha Stewart for about 10 minutes of your effort .

If you want to be really fancy for dinner too, take the leftover puff pastry, some prosciutto and cut into rectangles about 4″ long.  Lay in a slice of prosciutto and 3-4 asparagus spears and bake as described above.  When it’s out of the oven melt a little butter with lemon juice, salt and pepper and glaze the asparagus puffs in the lemon butter sauce.

Happy Asparagus Day!

Leaves with Purpose

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“There are more things on heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy”

 – Hamlet 

The town where Sithean stands is an old one, by American standards.  It was incorporated in 1650, and the miles of old stone walls and the ability to trip over history everywhere you go bears that out.

Prior to incorporation, the Annisquam Indians called it something that translates to ‘the pleasant place by the flowing waters’, and that still holds true today – it is a pleasant place to be, with meandering country roads, wildflowers everywhere, and gardens of blossoms and vegetable gardens.  

We reside in a spot called ‘Witch Hill’.  The Salem Witch trials were not confined to what is now Salem, Massachusetts.  In fact, Salem Village is now named Danvers, in one of the earliest efforts at image rebranding ever to occur – Salem was anathema after the Witch Trials, for good reason.

Witch Hill got it’s name because Mary Eastey, sister to Rebecca Nurse, came here to her son’s home after being released from the Salem Witch trials.  She and Nurse were both upstanding citizens, and married to landholders.  Even Judge John Hathorne, who presided over the trials, and an ancestor of Nathaniel Hawthorne, went so far as to ask if the girls accusing her if they were certain she was a witch.

It’s hard to visualize what it might have been like.  Suspicion, and not a little bit of vengeance, reigned.  Women were dragged from their beds in the night and put in irons.  They didn’t eat unless their families brought food, and then it might be stolen by their jailers.  They didn’t bathe.  They were housed in places where it was cold, dark, and bug-infested, on the words of a bunch of pre-teens and teenagers.  If you ever doubt the need for due process but also the ability to challenge it by citizens, the transcripts are worth a read.  The originals are in Salem, but the University of Virginia keeps a copy online. 

After all, the Witch trials were perfectly legal.  Moral – not so much.

For Mary Eastey, she is released after 2 months in prison, on May 18th.  She came here to Topsfield, but not for long.  2 days later, Mercy Lewis accuses her again.  She was dragged from her son’s home in the night and brought back to prison.  She was hanged on September 22nd, 1692.  Her death, along with others, was the tipping point in bringing Witch Fever to an end.  On the gallows she begged for the murders – for they were that, trial or no – to stop.

Superstition seems to be part and parcel of the human spirit.  Here on Witch Hill, the real story of Mary Eastey has long faded, and she is spoken about most typically in order to establish the historical bona fides of this place.  In some ways, the peace and beauty force that forgetting.  There is no time of year that I don’t believe I live in one of the most beautiful places on earth.  Making it more so is one of my greatest goals.

One of the interests in the back of my mind as I have gardened over the years is herbs.  Herbs have very real benefits – let’s be clear here, there’s no magical food, essential oil, or herb that is going to change your life.  Herbs, oils and supplements have become intertwined with the idea that if we just consume cleaner, healthier and purer, we will be safe from disease, early death, etc.  It’s true that the healthier we eat, the healthier we live, sure and some exercise is necessary.  Herbs are helpers when used correctly.  They can relieve anxiety, calm a stomach, make a headache go away, and even restart a heart or kill you.  That these things can just grow by the side of the road, in nature, can feel a lot like a gift of magic, and maybe they are.  There’s much that still defies human understanding in the natural world.

Herb lore is intricately tied up in superstition and magic.  So while I diligently plant flowers to attract pollinators and vegetables and fruit to feed us, I’ll also be adding Witch Hazel, Dittany, Rue, Valerian, Yarrow, Lavender and others.  Sure, they are (mostly) edible, have medicinal benefits, and they are all lovely.  But they are also the herbs of protection.  From what?  I don’t know.  Maybe nothing.  It doesn’t matter.  But here at Sithean history incorporates both the beautiful and the not-so-much, intertwined together, and sometimes, like with magic and herb lore, the beautiful and the not are one and the same. As I grow them, I’ll post about what they do and how I use them.

Next year we will plant both a fig tree and a Rowan tree. The former will feed us, but of the two, I tend to think the latter will be more important.

Trefoil, John’s Wort, Vervain, Dill
Hinder Witches of Their Will
Betony, Dittany, Yarrow, Rue
Deprive Witches of Their Due

 

Spring Forward

House with new roof

The first day of spring arrived, and with it almost 50-degree temperatures here in Massachusetts.  After two years of almost nonexistent (read: frigid) springtime weather, this year feels like we might get something resembling the real deal.  It’s hard to tell, but it might be time time to start packing the winter gear away.

Still, it’s March in New England, so I’m not doing anything about that feeling quite yet.  The adage of ‘if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes’ is truly applicable here at Sithean.  Despite the unpredictability of the season here though, it’s definitely time to start making ready for the warmer weather.

The chicks are now almost 2 weeks old, and their fluff is starting to slough off and reveal feathers.  We lost two babies, including our beloved Peep, who just didn’t eat or drink enough to survive.  We buried her and her unnamed friend next to Aquarius the duck.  Losing animals is part and parcel of having them, but it never gets easier.  The other 26 are thriving though, and their mad cheeping fills the house.

I’ve been starting garden seeds.  So far, cool-weather crops and those that need a long time to germinate take priority – kale, broccoli raab, tomatoes, peppers and Brussels sprouts along with cucumber seeds are tucked into the dirt.  My goal is to plant at least one thing a day through May, and harvest one thing a day through October.

This year we’re going to add to our small orchard as well – we lost 2 baby apricot trees last year, so we’re trying again, and a dwarf Seckel Pear will be espaliered in the center of the new garden.  I was going to put a fig tree in there, but this land grew pears when it was first farmed, so it seems right to put one in a place of honor.  A fig can be added somewhere else next year.   I’m also looking for a spot for a few cranberry bushes in the hopes we can add ‘zero food miles’ to parts of Thanksgiving dinner.  I mull over raising a few turkeys every year, but it won’t be this year.  Biting off more than one can chew is endemic to gardening and raising food.  “Just one more thing!  How hard can it be?” is the gardener’s battle cry, there always – in my head – being space for just a few more flowers or vegetables or herbs or one more chicken, and of course, infinite time to tend and harvest.

Delusional, but in the best of ways.

“Where is this all going?”, you might well ask, and to that I say “Oh, valid question.”

If you assume that climate change is coming for all of us, which it is, you also have to assume that the limitless variety, packaging and options at the grocery stores will alter too.  In my lifetime probably, in my children’s for certain.  Making home for bees, butterflies and other pollinators, as well as building in egg, fruit and vegetable options for the future is our way of trying to create that ‘ounce of prevention worth a pound of cure’ here.  Sithean is meant to be a haven for all the generations that require it – and not just human generations.  I can’t control what the future brings, but I can certainly try to hedge our bets.

Climate change is not for one political party or another.  Denying science because we can’t imagine another way of life will not make it go away, nor make it not be true.  I can’t predict what the world will look like when my children are having children.  All I can do is hope that their world is full of apples, pears, asparagus and fresh eggs like my own is, and do everything in my power to make it so.  I can teach them how to plant seeds, pull weeds, tend chickens and cook from scratch.  I can teach them to want fewer things.  I’m still working through my feelings about travel – mine for work and ours for pleasure.  I’m a study in inconsistent application of my beliefs, and I know that.  I’m a work in progress, which doesn’t exculpate me from my own impacts on the environment, but it does give me room to figure out how to apply them.

Sithean has stood for 169 years on this land or the land nearby.  I hope what we build here outlasts us.  Spring, to originate or arise from – the perfect definition for renewal of this place, of the land and our approach to it.   This place, the garden, fruit trees and landscape around it is my version of church.  I thank the universe that my baby cherry tree survived winter and plows.  I rake knowing my life is a gift, this place is a gift, and I am it’s caretaker, as it is ours.

Spring leaves me feeling renewed, year after year, my hope and joy rising like the seedlings in the dirt.

I wish you the greenest of springs, this year and every one after.