Tag: Garden

VIEW FROM THE HAY DOOR

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

Through much of the summer, the sun on the barn roof makes it difficult for anyone to spend much time in the loft, and later, the depths of winter add their own limitations. But there are stretches of spring and autumn that can be heavenly when it comes to a time and place to retreat.

Yes, we’ve discussed remodeling the loft to make the space usable year-round, but frankly I rather like it as is, with all of its rustic charm.

My favorite moments often come in the afternoon as I call an early happy hour, pour myself a martini, and nestle into the papasan in front of the open hay door. The view over the garden or out either window at the ends of the barn can be delightful, and in many ways I feel I’m in a tree house. This fall I’ve been catching up on issues of The Paris Review and a host of symphonic tapes, so it can even feel uplifting.

As we slip into the second half of autumn, though, I’m all too aware this pleasure’s about to come to a close again. Already we’ve had a few evenings of sitting in front of a wood fire and watching the flames dance.

Long ago I discovered how essential such seemingly short breaks are to my sanity. And then it’s full-bore back into the vortex.

LOVELY LEEKS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 20 Comments

Unlike the rest of my family, I have an aversion to onions. Or maybe it’s the other way around. It’s not pretty. I’ll spare you my rant. Likewise, I could cite a long history, with heavy childhood quagmire, but we’ll just leave it there.

Leeks, on the other hand, create no problems. They’re marvelous and so beautiful in and out of the garden. So it’s a glorious compromise, all the way around. (Shall we say that potato-leek soup is one of my favorites?)

And I’ve developed quite the love for garlic. In and out of the garden.

MOCKINGBIRD, ESPECIALLY

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

The amount of wildlife in our yard continually impresses me, especially compared to my childhood home. The abundance of squirrels, of course, and (yuck!) the winter rats we occasionally see but also skunks, opossums, the groundhog (woodchuck) can be added in, plus garden snakes and a rainbow of insects. We must be doing something right, or just be in the right location. (Once, a fox trotted atop my ladder stored over snow, right here in the city.)

A first: amid a throng of blue jays chasing a crow, a mockingbird: was its nest raided or threatened?

But remember, never mock a mockingbird. Like the one singing lustily from our neighbors’ when I’d drive in from work at midnight. They’re quite remarkable musicians.

In a Heartbeat~*~

The influence of the animal kingdom shapes my newest collection of poems, In a Heartbeat, on tap at Barometric Pressures.

GREAT TASTES FROM NEARBY SOURCES

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

There are some things we’ve decided not to grow. Sweet corn, for example, requires more space than we’re willing to allocate.

Part of our decision reflects the reality that we have some fine farm markets nearby, and we welcome the exchange of a local economy. The same-day butter-and-sugar or all white ears are unbeatable, especially when accompanied by our own tomatoes. Who says a feast has to be expensive?

A pick-your-own orchard presents another example. We have fond memories of family journeys to Butternut Farm in Meaderboro for peaches and apples. For me, of course, the visit reminds me of living in the orchard in Washington state’s Yakima Valley, so many years ago, now, though I welcome its many varieties other than Delicious. A Gala, anyone?

The annual trek to a Christmas tree farm here in the city feels related – first, to pick out our choice, and then, a few days before Christmas Eve, to harvest it and somehow fit it into the car. We still treasure the bird nests we’ve found in ours some years.

PYRAMID OF VINING BEANS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

Back on June 14, I posted a photo of our newly erected tepee for the pole beans. Now that they’ve sprouted and taken off, here’s how it looks.

The vines have climbed to nearly seven feet tall. I'll need a stepladder for picking.
The vines have climbed to nearly seven feet tall. I’ll need a stepladder for picking.

If the plants produce as well as our first round of sugar snap peas did, I’ll be feeling like a pharaoh of beans. (I hear the groans in our household already. So, she might ask, did that make me a sugar-snap daddy?)

BACK TO THE SCENE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 9 Comments

The groundhog story continues. Not to be content with the early raids on our garden, the attacks on our beds resumed. Lush Brussels sprouts plants that had been three feet tall were now mere spikes, and in the latest round we lost some kale and squash plants. Neighbors are relating their own losses, including peppers.

I did notice a small entryway had been dug out under our firewood stacks and eventually saw a pointy nose and beady eyes regard me. Not once or even twice but enough to make me suspect the worst. So I moved the trap from the garden and placed it near the entrance.

To my relief, I did find that the trap my wife bought at a yard sale a few years ago does indeed work, and that cubes of cantaloupe prove irresistible to the critters, but even that is taking its own turns. The first time the device was triggered, a bit of Brussels sprouts stem included as bait kept the shutter from locking … allowing an escape. Would the villain learn to avoid my means of entrapment?

I reset the trap and by lunchtime returned to check it out. Although both shutters had been triggered, a ‘chuck was propped up OUTSIDE, one foot on the top as it peered in, likely wondering how to get back to the bait, as if adding insult to my intentions. It seemed I’d been conned again. But, just in case, I circled around and closer examination revealed another was couched inside. One down, at least one more to go.

The short version of what followed includes a trip to Maine, just over the river. Released from confinement, that one bolted through the forest … straight toward New Hampshire.

For my part, back home, hoping they’re slow learners driven more by their guts than their brains, I reset the trap in pursuit of the other. Two hours later, I was back in Maine and evicted that critter, which dashed straight into the river and started swimming toward New Hampshire before rounding back to shore. I was grateful it was still high tide but dismayed to see what confident swimmers they can be. So much for that barrier.

Back home again, seeing new diggings around the firewood, we face the reality of having at least one more living under that neatly stacked firewood. If this keeps up, I’ll have to buy another melon today. At least I’m grateful we didn’t try growing our own; they would have cleaned ’em out, meaning I’d still have to buy one to use as bait.

All that's left of the once thriving Brussels sprouts.
All that’s left of the once thriving Brussels sprouts.