Getting the Lay of the Land in Early June

Tetley's Morning WalkThis morning’s walk with Tetley after yesterday’s monsoon-like storm, everything felt charged. Green stuff erupted everywhere – certainly the bittersweet that threatens to topple the trees along this wooded stretch of ignored land seems to have grown by feet overnight. The blue sky through the green canopy promises a lovely day.

Blue sky beyond the bittersweet.
Blue sky beyond the bittersweet.

A few years ago, I threw a few strawberry plants in the sloping patch beside the driveway just to get them out of my vegetable patch. Here they thrive and continue to multiply and after this storm, so did ripe strawberries. I had to bring Tet inside so I could use both hands to pick the good ones.

Strawberry Patch
Strawberry Patch

In harvest-mode, I wandered around to the back of the house to see what else might have erupted into ripeness. Before yesterday’s soaker storm there had been days of sunshine and heat – just what a garden loves. Looks like a little salad might be possible. Certainly there’s arugala-a-plenty as you’ll see in the next image.

Baby lettuce mix.
Baby lettuce mix.

Plenty of horseradish and a tomato plant holding it’s own between them. And mint hovers in the background ready to strangle everything.

Tomato tucked between wild arugala (it just keeps coming back - a good bite to it - yum) and horseradish.
Tomato tucked between wild arugala (it just keeps coming back – a good bite to it – yum) and horseradish.

Unfortunately, my beloved Peonies took a beating yesterday and I’m not sure I’ll even be able to salvage another bouquet. Is it ridiculous to say that the incredible bank of Peonies is one of my favorite things about this little patch of property? They’ve been here forever and were also beloved by the old woman who I bought the house from in 1997. Their heady perfume evokes all that is sweet about summer as well as the melancholy of passing too quickly. Ah well. Seize the day … and the flowers, while they blossom.

Battered Peonies
Battered Peonies

The weekend weather report looks good for planting – if I could only decide where to set these Zinnia and Cleomes so they don’t get eaten by the ravenous groundhogs. I guess the not-yet-eaten lettuce patch bodes well, I may tuck them in there.

Waiting for a home.
Waiting for a home.

The Roses blossomed over night and after the storm, have taken a dramatically desperate pose, don’t you think? I really like Roses although they are a bit prissy. Give me a giant, scratchy Sunflower any day over these posies. But then again, I appreciate their hidden toughness – they are deceptive with those treacherous thorns!  And I love their scent. I do make it a point to always stop and smell the roses – much to my daughter’s embarrassment. In any case, these need to be tied up. (!)

Roses striking a tragic pose.
Roses striking a tragic pose.

Around the side of the house I check on the Blueberries. This is the first year I’ve seen so many berries. These bushes are smack under a Mulberry tree that grows like a weed. The birds will be swarming in a few more weeks, to get the fruit of the tree and maybe they’ll miss these little guys waiting to ripen. Bird netting is on the to-do list.

Blueberries not yet blue.
Blueberries not yet blue.

As is mowing the lawn, weeding, weeding, weeding. And the hedge is crazy-high again.

Behind the house.
Behind the house.

And, looking at this photo, plenty of cleaning up to do. Time to clean up the furniture and get ready for outdoor feasting. In the pots, I confess, I thought I was planting Dahlia bulbs I’d carefully saved from last autumn — but I think they’re Gladiolus. Again, not my favorite flower — rather funereal, don’t you think? I’m thinking I’d rather not be wasting those pots on them – better to pick up a few herbs or plant some of the Zinnias in there … work, work, work!

Homemade yogurt and granola with just picked strawberries - and aspargus! (not for breakfast though.)
Homemade yogurt and granola with just picked strawberries – and aspargus! (not for breakfast though.)

But first, breakfast.

Groundhog Wars Commence

The groundhog is lurking and ravenous as ever.  A mysterious volunteer has appeared (does anyone know what this is?) next to the asparagus bed and it must be something good since the bastard has already been munching on it.

Groundhog Deterrent

We’re trying a new trick this year and it seems to be working: pinwheels. Apparently woodchucks are frightened by shiny, moving things. (Old CDs strung up with fishing line might also work ) So far, so good – these plants are recovering nicely and have yet to be munched on since we set up the spinning sentinels. Yesterday, we visited the dollar shop and loaded up on American flag pinwheels for our own  version of homeland security.

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Newly planted pea seedlings are pushing through the dirt and a few random bonus patches of lettuce, chard, cilantro and other herbs are emerging from last year. With a fresh layer of topsoil to cover the crumble of leaves ignored last autumn and we’re ready for planting.

For over a decade now, bastard (I’m sure it’s the same one) has been decimating my lettuce, soybeans (a groundhog favorite) broccoli, cucumber, squash – you name it. And every spring, in spite of my previous heartbreaks, I plant again. I refuse to give in to the bastard. For me, it’s become not as much about my wish to harvest vegetables as it is about not giving up.  The garden as a metaphor of hope. Worth fighting for.

A Year in My (Fantasy) Life of Retirement

In another 8 months, my daughter will be off to her new life as a college student. This imminent change for both of us has cooked up a veritable soup of emotions but also, a sense of possibility about what adventures might also be awaiting me. My dreaming was inspired by this list of “best places to retire” article on this morning’s Yahoo page. I can never resist reading through their choices, imagining myself in any of those places. Forbes’ list launched me into a full-fledged fantasy about what I might do, of course, (since this is fantasy) if I could indeed retire. Once an expat, the itch never quite goes away. Here’s my plan:

Call me a scrooge, but still reeling from 15 years of holiday retail, I’d give all the Merry Christmas business a miss and disappear to Japan where December 25th is basically a day to eat クリスマスケーキ pronounced “krisumas-cayki”.  After ringing in the New Year in lovely Kyoto, traditionally a time of cleaning and contemplation and ringing a big old bell at a neighborhood temple (details here) it’s off to find the warmth of the sun.

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Definitely time I went back to Bali. (thanks Yukiko for the great photo) Creativity is everywhere in the hill villages of that tiny Hindu island in Indonesia. (please note: I was a pre-Elizabeth Gilbert visitor) I imagine a month of writing, eating, walking, while reveling in the sound of gamelans, the rice paddies, waterfalls and the brilliant smiles of the warmest people I’ve ever met. And the food is good.

Next, all the way to the bottom tip of Australia.

courtesy of trip advisor
courtesy of trip advisor

Tasmania is where Jenny, one of my most missed and dearest friends in the world lives. We are friends from Kyoto days – and I have never laughed so hard and so often with anyone in my life and that alone makes this a trip to take. Bonus that it will be summer there and Tasmania looks incredible with wild beaches and incredible bush.

After exploring around the South Pacific, (Fiji? Papua New Guinea maybe?) it will be time to make my way back towards spring in the Northern Hemisphere. First stopping for some good eats and the crazy energy of Hong Kong and a little exploration of South East Asia. (Laos?)

Spring comes early to the incredible coast of Croatia and Montenegro. I long to marvel once again at the Adriatic light, the most remarkable spectrum of sea colors. Ideally, there will be a sweet house (or this incredible place looks fine!) looking out at that rugged landscape where I will write and maybe even paint for a month or so.  I imagine the scent of eucalyptus, the light, the soft breeze through the cypress and the crystalline water lapping over the rocks. I’ll sit here and read, stare, swim, doze…

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Next, a visit to Greece. I haven’t been since becoming entranced at 18 when I landed on the island of Paros and could explore no further. There is an art school there so even in November, although the tourists were gone, I discovered a dynamic arts community. It was as if I had been drugged by the sweet lavender air – the days drifted into one another – exploring the rocky hills, the restaurants, the retsina? What was it about that place? I’d like to see if I’d feel it again. And – to eat the food! To, as I did a lifetime ago,  wake to the fisherman slapping octopus against the rocks.

Italy always calls to me. Perhaps I can make that visit with Molly – a pilgrimage to her birthplace in Puglia, to the hospital in Brindisi and if we can find them, meet up with the doctors who saved her life. Then, up north to a villa – in Tuscany or here less saturated Abruzzo.  I’d invite my Studio 70 sisters for one of our creative retreats. This would do nicely, don’t you think, gals?

19I imagine our days overlooking the hills, dinners of incredible food and endless red wine. Still, we’ll wake early and find our solitary corners to drink too many cups of coffee and feel inspired. Bliss.

By then it’s time to return to Connecticut to plant my garden at my sweet house and catch up with loved friends. Of course the groundhogs will still eat most of what I plant but I won’t mind as much. As I’m retired, there will be no excuses not to host all the dinner parties I always imagine – set at our lovely table out back. The sunflowers (these past years, eaten as seeds, every one) will be bountiful.

GardenLots of kayaking out to the islands and long overdue trips into the city to museums and restaurants and visits with missed friends and family.

As summer wanes, it’s time to hit the road again — into the groovy AirStream of my dreams DSC_0152_800x531_for a leisurely trip across the States. I know it’s terribly muggy in Kentucky at this time of year but that just makes everyone move slower – savoring the sweaty nights of catching up with more missed friends from Studio 70 days. We’ll sit along the muddy banks of the meandering Ohio River as if no time has passed but rather just been an endless current of connection unbroken by time or space. And of course, like the old days, we’ll discuss time, space, art.

Then, meandering across the US – (the northern route this time) – popping in to National Parks (check out the webcam of Old Faithful!) oldfaithvcA few weeks of luxuriously visiting friends, making new ones, browsing bookstores and thrift shops, farmer’s markets.

Now it’s autumn — a good time to tootle along the Pacific Coast — hikes through the (to me) exotic landscape and perhaps landing in an idyllic spot overlooking the ocean — to contemplate, walk, write — somewhere temperate – Monterey area maybe? I remember a summer spent in San Francisco – and again, the light and sweet air smells.

And as we roll into December it will be time to head back to Kyoto again – to get ready to ring in another year of itchy-foot plans. India? Definitely Morrocco…

What would you do?

What Next?

As my daughter enters her last year of high school, I’ve joined her in pondering the question: where do I see myself in 5 years time? While I love this little house and neighborhood, the idea of no longer having to stay in one spot or to live life according to a school calendar, excites me. So just like Molly, I am researching and dreaming.

While floating out on the Long Island Sound, Rob and I sometimes concoct crazy ideas. He likes barges and imagines us living on this big metal stretch planted with a garden. No groundhogs – I like that. But where to dock? I’ve trawled around houseboat blogs that make it look enticing, but honestly, I think the perpetual rolling motion of being on water would get to me. I love a few hours of heaving-about but mostly, prefer land.

So my latest favorite fantasy involves a RV. Vintage Airstreams appeal to us  but we’re more inclined toward the less-cool, all-in-ones rather than dragging something behind us.  Tootling around at our leisure, we’d explore the country, scour garage sales and thrift-shops for hidden treasures we’d then turn into lamps, chairs and tables to sell to Anthropologie-type stores.

Tetley could come with us… but who would feed the birds?

Why I Hate Groundhogs

In a brief walk around my garden this morning, this is what I found:

Nibbled Tomato Plant
Devoured Spinach
Decimated Gladiolus
Ravaged Black Eyed Susans

But most upsetting of all is this –

Wounded Tetley

That flash of green is his foot wrapped in gauze. To be fair, the groundhog responsible for Tetley having to wear this mortifying cone is dead. He killed 3 in one week. Not the beast of a rodent lurking around here for years, but smaller ones. A 4th adolescent (at least) has been brazenly loping about, teasing my brave hunter who throws himself against the screen door to get at him.

Not a banner garden year, as you can see. Between the weeds and the critters and some scorching days, I’ve lost heart. Not quite given up but certainly disheartened. I drove by a community garden yesterday – all neatly penned-in and bursting with health. How does your garden grow?

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