December Vegetables

 

Today i harvested the last 3 sprigs of broccoli and one turnip. That's a meal for one--turnip soup and steamed broccoli.

The vegetable garden keeps giving and giving. Even though this offering seems pale by comparison to the abundance of summer, it's enough. 

Thanks to the bright green and purple generosity of the garden.

Winter Berries

All summer i've been looking at a non-descript shrub outside my kitchen window. That shrub is spreading. What the heck is it? What was i thinking when i put it there?

Now that it's covered with red berries, i see that it is a holly called winterberry. The red berries are a pleasure to look at while i'm doing the dishes, and the berries will last 5 months, until the end of winter.

The shrub has teeny-weeny flowers in the spring, and the plain deciduous leaves have no fall color, but now winterberry is the star of the winter garden.

Meditation practice may look boring and dull in the summer of our lives, but it really bears fruit when we are reduced to the bare bones of life. 

Second Summer

It's been a beautiful second summer here in the North Country. Last week and this, temperatures have been in the sunshiny 60s during the day. I keep taking off the layers i put on pre-dawn until i'm down to short sleeves and long cotton pants. Then, as soon as the sun sets, the day-dusk cools down to fleece weather. Even so, the evenings are lovely under a clear starry sky.

Change. So many changes of clothes during the day. Fleece pants, a long-sleeved merino wool shirt, and a fleece hoody as soon as i arise for morning meditation at dawn. By ten in the morning, i've shed the long sleeves for my short-sleeves underneath. Next to go are the fleece leggings. If i'm outdoors, even the short sleeves may be discarded for the tank top underneath that. Then one by one, i put them all on again.

Change. Change. And more change.

The November Garden

It snowed a couple of days ago, followed by a killing frost. All the annuals are good and dead now. And the fall garden is beautiful in stark relief: kale, broccoli, Swiss chard, and my lone cauliflower.

Gone is the "clutter" of the summer garden. Bean plants pulled up. Squash plants melted into mush. Tomatoes in the compost.

Summer is good and dead. How can something be "good" and "dead" at the same time? Is dead good? Well, yes. Sometimes.

The fall garden is good.

The summer garden is dead. Gone. Gone. Gone.

Pink Queen Anne's Lace

This year, several of the Queen Anne's Lace in my garden were pinkish-burgundy. Though i've never noticed this color before, they are really attractive and coordinate well with the magenta trim on my house. I hope they reseed themselves.

This COVID summer, i've seen many things in the natural world that i haven't noticed before. This slowed-down summer has created space for my inner naturalist to bloom.

This coming slowed-down fall and winter offer opportunities for at-home retreats. I'm signed up for a silent concentration retreat in mid-October.

On retreat, i will probably see things i hadn't noticed before. Those seeings are called insight. I practice insight meditation.

The pink Queen Anne's Lace is stunning.

Red-Twig Dogwood

Red-twig dogwood (Cornus sericea) is especially beautiful in the winter when its red twigs stand out against the white snow. My red-twig has variegated leaves, which make it interesting all summer long. The dogwood flowers do not look like dogwood flowers; instead, they look like an umbrella cluster of small white flowers.

I have to prune it back to the ground every two or three years in order to obtain the bright red young growth. Old branches are thick and brown, sort of like old people.

Ah, the beauty of youth.

Houseplants in the Tropics

The very small garden (4' x 4') at our vacation condo's front door is crowded with plants that i have in my solarium at home. Banana tree, variegated scheffilera, agave.

Here in their native habitat in the tropics, they thrive and look lush. My houseplants at home--banana tree, plain green scheffilara--look pathetic in comparison.

During their summer vacation outdoors, my houseplants perk up and look lush. Then i bring them in doors and they start to decline and look piqued.

I have houseplants in the first place for the joy they bring me. Ahhh. Green and growing plants. Some, like geraniums, with flowers.

When the mind compares my housebound North Country plants to the tropics, i and my houseplants always lose.

The comparing mind can't help but compare. That is its main job. And the comparison? Useless. Really useless.

I'm sinking into the beauty of what is. Right here. Right now.

Growing Kale Indoors

Last summer, i put redbor kale in three of my flowerpots on the front step to add color and height. The pots--with the kale--came indoors in October. My kale plants are now 3 feet tall. I harvested the leaves for dinner tonight.

Kale is a cold weather crop, so it's still growing outdoors in the garden. And it's fun to have it growing indoors as well. One of the plants has baby kale sprouting all along its naked stem.

In the summer of our lives, what can we plant that will bear fruit (or vegetables) in the winter of our lives? Many people rely on family as their refuge. I remember my grandmother sitting in her recliner looking out her picture window and knitting slippers for her ten grandchildren. Nine out of ten of them lived hundreds of miles away as did two of her three daughters.

I rely on the Dharma for my refuge. Not matter the circumstances, no matter the internal "weather", the Dharma bears fruit.

Fire Fly Cherry Tomato

My favorite cherry tomato this summer was Fire Fly, an All-America Selection for 2019. This blond, pale yellow tomato surpasses even my very favorite Sungold.

I'm just now harvesting my very last tomatoes. Alas, the tomato season has come to an end, as we must also.

I'm taking training at hospice to become an Advance Directive volunteer. But first, i need to update my own directive for the end of my "season" here on earth.

When tomato season ends, i simply pull the dead tomato plant out of the ground, and store away the tomato cage. When the season of a human body is coming to an end, the decisions are not so simple.

Have you filled out your Advance Directive? Named your agent? Given them instructions for what to do when you can no longer speak for yourself? It will be so much easier for you and your family if you take care of this.

Red Malabar Spinach

In July, i bought Red Malabar Spinach to spruce up the flowerpots on my front step. Even though the name sounds like a vegetable, the plant looks very decorative--shiny green leaves on a red-stemmed vine with small white-pink flowers. Best of all, the spinach continues to grow happily during the hot days of summer since it comes from Malabar in the southwest coast of India.

My green, leafy vegetable is waiting for me every time i walk in the front door. Mindfulness is waiting for me every time i walk from the garage to the front step.

Snake Skin

Last evening was cool, so i fired up the woodstove. In between the first two logs i pulled out of the woodshed was a snake skin. Which gives the word "woodshed" a whole new meaning now that a snake has shed its skin in it.

I am shedding my summer clothes in favor of long sleeves and corduroy pants and fleece vests.

A change of seasons. A change of skins. From warm bare skin to cool.

Summer changes slowly, quickly to autumn. Wriggle out of warmth into a new day of freshness.

Still Lightning Bugs

A few lightning bugs are still lighting up the fields and forests these hot summer nights. The males fly around and look for the flightless females lying in the grass. The males drop down to mate, and then the female eats the male. Whoa! That is not a happy ending to the story. It turns out that sex (for the fireflies) is dukkha ("bummer!").

This reminds me of a chant.

Separation from the liked is dukkha.

Association with the disliked is dukkha.

Not attaining one's wishes is dukkha.

Well, we could apply all of these to our sexual relationship(s).
Separation from the beloved is (sometimes) distressing and creates a longing.
Association with the disliked (state of aloneness and yearning) creates a desire for change.
Not attaining one's wishes (i will leave the sexual details to your imagination) can create disappointment.

Those beautiful male lightning bugs light up the darkness

Photo from nytimes.com

Galloping Gardens

The garden is galloping through the summer. No way can i rein it in--pull all the weeds i want to, transplant flowers, rearrange the design here and there. Nor can i harvest everything that's in the vegetable garden.

Company, day trips, swimming. Ahhh. Summer. It's all so delicious. And the garden comes in third, or sometimes last, place.

The mind is way ahead of the body. The mind wants this, wants that, wants a beautiful garden. The mind plans to do this or that.

The body says Relax. It's summer. Let's go to the lake and meditate beside still water.

Summer Tires

'Tis the season to change winter tires for summer tires. I took the risk yesterday, had my tires changed, and veered home through the snow/sleet/slush. Very exciting driving.

One of my neighbors has already switched to his Crocs summer footwear despite the snow. He's already wearing his summer "tires," which makes for very exciting walking downhill on the snow-ice.

Sometimes, the seasons change faster than we do. Sometimes, the weather changes faster than we are prepared for. Sometimes we change faster than our friends do.

Change. By tomorrow, the snow will be mostly melted, and it will be time for summer footwear--again.

Foggy Mornings

These autumn days dawn foggy as Mother Earth loses her heat to air. Last night i sat vigil for a 94-year-old woman who is losing her body heat. Her life energy is slowly leaking away, and she must have had plenty because she had 15 children, four of whom have died before her.

"Everything dies at last.
And too soon."

Summer dying into fall.

Perennial Ageratum

My local garden group, Perennial Swappers, toured my fall garden this evening. It's the last swap and tour of the season. Hard to believe, since it was 85 degrees today.

I still have lots of color in my garden. In addition to purple asters, white sanguisorba, and pink turtlehead (chelone), i have lots of perennial ageratum giving a sweep of color to several flowerbeds.

My Hoosier cousin, Jeana, gave me a single start of this ageratum a few years ago. Thanks to her generosity, i share big clumps of this ageratum with five or six of my friends every September.

Generosity is one of the foundations of gardening. I give plants to people. People give plants to me. This evening Ruth brought me a double white trillium.

Generosity is one of the foundations of our spiritual practice. Let go. Give.

Stop Transplanting

Summer has arrived. Two weeks early, according to me. This means i have to stop transplanting, unless i am willing to water those transplants every day for 3 or 4 days.  You understand, that left to my own desires, i could transplant a couple dozen plants every day, and thus forget to water. It's a better policy to just stop transplanting.

The arrival of summer also means that all my gardening needs to be done by 9 a.m. I already miss May when i can be out in the garden all day long. Sigh.

The season has changed. Daffodils are dead. The early spring of lettuce green, and the mid-spring of tulips are gone. I'm not sure what happened to late spring, but i call these 80- and 90-degree days "summer." Time to stop playing in the dirt and go play in the water instead.

Our personal seasons change, whether or not we are ready. Right now, my hip flexors have seized up so i have trouble bending over. This is what my grandmother called having a hitch in her git-along. Wait! I still have so much gardening to do. I don't want to slow down! But, for once, the body gives the orders, starting with Ouch! And the mind tries to relax.

Cherry Tomatoes for Breakfast

A cherry tomato plant grew in my compost pile. Two months ago, at the first frost, i picked the (mostly) green tomatoes and brought them in to the kitchen, where they've been ripening ever since. My sweetie fries a few tomatoes for breakfast every morning, so he's almost at the end of our surplus. Good thing, because the tomatoes are beginning to wrinkle.

It brings us great joy to still have a summer harvest as winter begins, in earnest, tomorrow. A taste of summer. A taste of joy.

Breaking the Heat Wave

Thunderstorms broke the heat wave last evening, and more thunder showers are predicted for today. Which means that today is a good day to transplant.

I have volunteers growing in all sorts of places i don't want them--cherry tomatoes in a little flower garden, and flowers in the vegetable garden. Today is the day for them to switch places.

In the summer of our lives, when we are busy with family, job, and paying the mortgage, it's hard to focus on our spiritual life. It's harder still to transplant meditation into our busy lives.

But sometimes, our lives don't play out "like they're supposed to." A thunderstorm rolls through our life, alerting us to the need to do something different.

Transplant mindfulness into your life today. Reading this blog mindfully, clicking the mouse mindfully,  touching the keyboard mindfully. Allow mindfulness to walk with you away from the computer and out to the garden. Transplant yourself into summer.

Weeds Like It Hot

Full steam ahead. It's summer. It's hot. My gardening dribbles down to an hour in the early, early morning while the temperature is still in the 70s, and maybe half an hour in the evening after dinner. Sometimes, i dare to go out and work in the shade, but I'm not keeping up with the weeds, which are jumping for joy. More every day, particularly in the spots that didn't get mulched.

The weeds in our minds jump with joy every time we give them an opportunity to grow, every day that we don't mulch our minds with mindfulness.

What are the weeds that grow in the garden of your mind? Irritation? Frustration? Self-blame? Anxiety?

The first thing we do is sit down and watch them. Sit down and have a glass of iced tea with anxiety or with self-blame. Notice its habits. Where and when does it like to grow. Be curious. Get to know your weeds.

Because, you know, weeds make an excellent green mulch in the garden.