harvests

Today is Lammas, the traditional time to mark and celebrate our first harvest. Since it's been a little while again since I've posted, my first-harvest photos will begin a few months back. 

The orange tree/houseplant that we bring inside every winter and take back outside every spring produced two oranges in May. This is the largest of the two and true to its botany, there are ten sections. We were so happy she finally succeeded in ripening her first fruits after one and a half years of carrying them in her branches.

In May, lilac-infused water was made over and over.

In May, lilac-infused posset was made, a rich cream and honey dessert.

In June, mullein root, leaf and stalk tincture was made. When I learned that mullein is used for spinal conditions (in addition to its other more common uses), it only made sense when you think how tall and erect the mature plant stands.

 

In June, the iris bloomed -- one of my favorite displays of the month.

In June, a chicken coop and fenced-in run were delivered to our home in the middle of the city.

In June, two Barred Rocks and three Buff Orpingtons arrived.

They have changed my life forever.

In July, I made Monarda fistulosa leaf and flower tincture.

In July, lavender was dried.

In July, I remembered that I had made an egg basket about 25 years ago. That was a very long "build it and they will come," wasn't it?

In July, the chickens -- Margaret, Henna Penny, Lilith, Honey Moon and Cinco -- began to free-range in the evening until their bedtime. They always visit the Buddha garden first; it's so densely-planted they really can't cause much damage plus I already had wire cloches set up because of the rabbits.

I didn't know how much I wanted them until they came.

Which brings me to now -- to mark the harvest today, I am filling all my little green vases with flowers and herbs to put all over the house.

And making little incense bundles with Palo Santo wood, lavender, white sage and mullein.

August is the beginning of autumn and there is a definite shift in the light. The air seems to literally turn green and when I breath it in, I turn into a plant of the human kind.

Today, I wish you all the beauty and abundance you can contain. xo

a little while

It's been a little while.

I put most of my crystals to bed on their very own mossy mattress to rest and rejuvenate. This is sort of what I've been doing too, resting and rejuvenating, after the bustle of the holidays followed by our youngest daughter's wedding.

In January I found my sewing mojo again when three moons and a butterfly started coming together. The paper fans were components for a holiday decoration that never quite made it to the finish line.

My first knitted socks were washed and blocked.

I love the rabbit sock blockers from the Knitting Shed. 

I'm back to sitting at my little altar table to meditate, read or journal. At the beginning of the year I drew The Star as my theme card for 2018 and I've had it on the table every since. Today I wistfully put it back into its deck and shuffled the entire deck thoroughly. After a quiet time, I drew a new card for today's guidance and it was The Star, which made me very happy indeed. Most appropriately, the herb shown on the card is skullcap, a calming relaxant and a good sleep aid. 

 

I pulled out roses and eucalyptus from some of the wedding centerpieces -- then hung and dried the roses in bunches and saved the eucalyptus for the dye-pot some day soon.

I am juicing nearly every day now. I've tried many different combinations of vegetables and we pretty much love them all...the only constants are celery, cucumber and lime, the other ingredients vary. 

Twenty-five moon squares made from plant-dyed cloth are being backed by hand with more plant-dyed cloth. And then assembled into rows of three. As I stitch, I think about all the women before me who sewed everything for their families by hand -- before sewing machines. They made dresses and skirts and pants and shirts. They made jackets and coats and linens and undergarments. I wonder what they think, seeing me sew these squares together...because I know they're watching, I can feel them.

Even though we're well into the month of February, I keep reading (and then reminding myself) that this is still a time of deep rest in Nature where I live and should be for people who live here, too. I very much like not hurrying on to the next thing or even thinking about what comes next. It's a dreamy time for sure. 

Good days to you. xo

dyed and dried

Late July. Early August. Something comes over me this time of year and I have a hard time putting that something into words but I want to try. It's the thickness of the air and how it looks and feels green to me now. It's about the pace and intensity of insect sounds and bird songs and kids playing outside at dusk. It's the way my bare feet seem to spring roots that sink into the ground with each step, how I am drawn to lie down on the grass to be pulled oh so close to the mother. And for some reason, I just seem to quit caring about all the things I thought needed doing. Instead, I wander.

The dye and mordant pots have been in use. With a mixture of fibers, the gray results are from red basil aerial parts and the golds/rusts are from dyer's coreopsis aerial parts, with a pup to match. My favorite pieces are the two doilies. This growing season one small bed in the Buddha garden was dedicated to just dye plants and it's done so well. Soon the Japanese indigo will be ready, maybe using some simple shibori.

I stitched a likeness of a tarot card from The Herbal Tarot and decided to pin-storm (pinning up a storm) it to the black linen journal cover as a sort of preview. I like it -- and can use the journal to record tarot/oracle cards and layouts and aha moments that I always think I'll remember forever but never do. The misty star patch is from Spirit Cloth's ThreadCrumbs Shop and the moon was cut from my handwritten Rumi cloth.

The first green pepper from plants grown from seed was eaten. A bowl of bindweed blossoms was picked to dry and burn and a big pot of bindweed vines is on the stove right now making dye.

That's about it. Thanks for visiting and happy weekending.

xo

right outside the door

I found perfection right outside the door the other morning -- rigor mortis had already set in so she'll join some fluff and pods and such in my little curio cabinet. Even if I could open her wings, I don't think I could mount her onto a piece of paper. That would just be wrong, to pin down someone's wings.

This is part of a small grove of bluish-white clary sage, Salvia sclarea, in our front moon garden. I adore this variety -- stocky with huge flower stalks, it glows on cloudy days and shimmers at night.

A bundle of the bluish-white clary sage was hung to dry. Do you notice that plant catalogs often refer to the color purple as blue?

Almost done stitching the last eco-dyed moon square on the linen drum case, but there is one more thing I want to add before hemming the edges and calling it done.

Elder flowers and more elder flowers. One of those white hollyhock flowers held a sleeping Japanese beetle. I let her sleep even though I knew she would go straight to the grape vines to devour at least three leaves immediately upon awakening.

Elder flower liqueur was begun.

I filled a quart jar to just below the shoulder with the flowers and filled it again with 100 proof vodka. After a few weeks I'll strain out the flowers and add other ingredients, maybe a sugar syrup or some honey, depending on the taste.

Lemon balm water infused under a full moon followed by a full day of sun...I make this pretty often, even when the moon isn't full.

I love seeing flower heads on some of last summer's onions that I missed. The flowers are delicious mashed into butter but the bees like them too so not sure about cutting them. I read that you should cut the flowers off and harvest the onions immediately as they will start to rot if left in the ground. But harvesting and using every single thing in the garden isn't really the point for me -- if I use just a little bit of something once or even take time to notice and appreciate a plant, then our connection feels complete.

St. Joan's wort, Hypericum perforatum, flowers started blooming right in time for Summer Solstice. At solar noon a friend and I sat before her holiness and made flower oils. One of the plant's most common uses is to soothe burns and other skin afflictions. By the way, I learned to call this plant St. Joan's wort instead of St. John's wort from Herbalist Susun Weed who says St. Joan knows more about burns than St. John. I agree.

Garden love. Right outside the door. Connecting to the natural world just always brings out the best in us. Where else would you ever find, and leave be, one beautiful little Japanese beetle, all covered in pollen, asleep inside one perfect hollyhock blossom?

Thanks for visiting and happy weekending. xx