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My door to the world

I am a sentimental and nostalgic person. I love symbols and traditions and fairy tales. Smiling at the whisper of a fairy’s wings or the twinkle of a star is often the highlight of my day.

 

Our lovely home and garden in the Okanagan is my sanctuary. We have a beautiful expanse of space with my wild gardens. I say wild in part because there are wild blossoms courtesy of the wind and birds, but also because I can’t seem to be disciplined enough in the dirt to create a formal structure. Like my life I suppose – elements of a framework but never enough to close the box.

 

My original plan was to have the flowers in my raised beds but when you plant heirlooms in a windy place, well…

Ella doesn’t mind that sunflowers pop up wherever they like…

I am inspired by quirky things, and I love to cheer for the underdog. (Another reason my gardens look so unkempt- everyone gets the benefit of the doubt until they demonstrate more evil than good.)

The back garden is full of artifacts and artful tokens. Some are simple junk, retrieved because I loved the memories they evoked or wanted to ponder the ones they contained. A few pieces I created, and a few I inherited. All of them add to the natural character of our place with a worldly sort of homey-ness.

My homemade heron sculpture
A scale from a junkyard now measures time in the garden…
A thrift store bunny is now an ambassador at Rabbit Hollow

We always envisioned a sort of gateway to the world even though we had no intention of a fence. Our original vision was for a moongate, inspired by our honeymoon visit to Bermuda with many of them showcasing the sunsets. We talked of an arch, but that became the passage from the garden to our harvest table. When we rebuilt the front door to our old farmhouse, I knew I had just the thing.

There are so many expressions about doors, with many of  them seeming appropriate for 2020:

  • getting one’s foot in the door (what the virus did around the world)
  • closing the barn door after the horse has bolted (what happened in some regions as the pandemic struck fast and hard)
  • having the wolf at one’s door  (the financial situation for so many after the pandemic lockdowns)
  • don’t let the door hit you on the way out (what I’d like to say to the virus)

You might say I ought to have left the door open to foster a spirit of hospitality and welcome. I’ll add an expression to the historic list to defend my case – a sort of “be prepared for any occasion” idiom: 

Never leave the door ajar on a windy day.

I am heartened to see the door when I look out the window now. It announces the rest of the world is out there, waiting. It keeps out the negative energy as it makes me smile, thinking of all the good times it brought into our house. And it’s there for us – day and night, through every kind of weather – ready when opportunity knocks.

Who knows when the winds will change and the world will return to one that allows for more work, more hugs, more visitors through our doors. But in the meantime, I’ll watch out the window and remember…

When one door closes, another one opens.

 

The view from one corner of the garden, out to the world.

 

Surviving, one bake at a time

I’m going on a bit of a rant – if you’d just like the foodie part of this tale, skip over the section in italics. I won’t mind, really.

It’s been 65 days since the covid-19 pandemic was officially declared. Hubbie and I went into self-isolation then, having already started to prepare for some of the challenges.

We are movie fans; you’d think we would have seen the signs. But then the characters in the movie never see the signs until it’s too late to do anything.

I’m a mostly optimistic person. Our lifestyle was already one that involved trying to be grateful and make the most of moments, so we looked for the positives:

  • Canada is a relatively safe place, with universal health care and plenty of infrastructure
  • We live in a smaller community where there were initially no outbreaks
  • Spring is traditionally slow for our business, so the initial lack of work was manageable

Following the movie analogy though, everyone knows that a Polly Anna story doesn’t sell. And Mother Nature loves that guy Murphy.

You know the rest of the story after this point – it hit the fan. Once we passed into the third month of this with no real end in sight, I decided that I need to regroup. I can’t listen to more news or read more articles or see more memes – I need a chance for my brain to focus on something else, something that involves an accomplishment. A bit of that will refuel me for what comes next.

I am so very thankful one of my passions is something as essential as food. It’s easy to lose myself in the garden or the kitchen.

At Rabbit Hollow we have the garden and the kitchen together in summer!

Spring is the beginning of gardening season – my grubby green thumbs could not be luckier. I have weeded my heart out and transplanted all my seedlings, the first time ever on schedule. But the garden takes months to deliver its bounty.

My real saving grace has been baking. Okay, and working out – ‘cause someone has to eat all those goodies once they come out of the oven 😁

I have to give a shout-out here, to Matthew & Erika and their team at Bread Ahead Bakery in London. I stumbled upon them early in the lockdown and quickly became a “breadaheader”, watching their live Instagram baking tutorials. I learned about sourdough and pastries, got recipes for numerous classics, and found a way to mark my days with the accomplishments of treats to share with my guy, and anyone else whose doorstep was willing.

Sourdough – and amaretti
Sourdough – and cinnamon buns
Sourdough, and chocolate chip cookies (are you getting the theme here?)

It may sound silly that following baking videos kept me sane, but it’s true. The sense of community I feel with food is truly magical. Cooking and eating allows us to experience all our senses, and sharing food is the most basic gesture of gratitude and respect.

What is my point to all this rambling? Honestly, I’m not sure yet. But I do know that food brings people together – even when they have to be apart.

I wish I had the finances to provide meals or even snacks for those less fortunate. All I can manage is to offer smiles to friends and loved ones, and share my passion in hopes it will spark someone else’s fire. At least in sharing we have a sense of camaraderie. If we are all in this together for the pandemic, why not be in something together that offers hope and a smile?

So, I’ll get up tomorrow and decide what I’m cooking (after I work out 😉) Tonight my chef hubby and I filmed our dinner prep on Facebook and it felt good, to wave at friends and share little tips. Life finds a way to persevere.

We will keep going, a few weeks at a time, just like they tell us now. Where will it lead? To the table, for another meal, more sustenance. Each season has its purpose. I have faith that in practicing my skills I will find a way through.

Does it seem logical to anyone else that if Murphy’s Law is consistent, then if anything is going to go right, it will do so at the best possible moment? As Matthew kept saying in all those tutorials, “Practice, practice, practice!”

Busy baking away in my first online cooking class. Boy, were those doughnuts good! 😋

Lions and lambs and lettuce

March is a mixed up month. I never know if spring is really here or if winter is just gearing up for her grand finale. The days get longer but if it’s grey they can still seem gloomily short, in my opinion. As a result, one day I feel like eating salad for dinner – celebrating the sprouting tulips and sunshine – then the next day stew is on the menu, to ward off the damp and cold of a frosty day.

March with lion and lamb

It is said that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. In Canada those little lambs aren’t the ones eating ivy, though, for the snow could still be on the ground.

A silly aside here – does anyone else remember the old song, “Mairzy Doats”? The story goes that one of the songwriters was inspired when his 4 year old daughter came home  singing her version of a nursery rhyme, simple cute jibberish to his ear. He wrote:

Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey

A kiddley divey too, wouldn’t you?

The lyrics of the song’s bridge provided a clue to undoing the code:

If the words sound queer and funny to your ear, a little bit jumbled and jivey,

Sing “Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy.”

Then we can translate the final line as

a kid’ll eat ivy, too; wouldn’t you?

But that’s a matter more for the month of April, don’t you think?

To avoid feeling overwhelmed by the month’s maelstrom of emotions, I decided to focus on the gentler lamb image and find something “springy”. More light, more new things – that’s what was needed. I found it in my Tower Garden.tower garden

Now I plant lettuces and herbs inside and get to watch them grow in the wonderfully cheery tower brightened by LED wands. It’s a delicious sort of magic being able to eat homegrown lettuce in the month of March, without having to brave the whistling winds and half-frozen dirt that comprises my garden plot at the moment.

It’s still a bit early to plant my seeds for the outdoor veggie garden. Experience has taught me that I’ll end up with leggy shoots that can’t stay up in the continuing winds of later spring. Their stocks will mold or break in the damp outside world and I’ll have to start over. For now, I am just plotting out my plan, choosing which seeds will be featured and how everyone will fit in the space.

In the meantime, at least I can feel nourished by what is to come; I don’t have to subsist solely on the stock of the winter larder, or my winter spirit. Having a bit more colour in my diet helps me notice the colour in the world. It cheers me and brings back my sense of humour.

On that note, I’ll close with the other quote I found about March. It sums up my sentiment quite nicely.

March is the month God created to show people who don’t drink what it feels like to have a hangover.  – Garrison Keillor

march with cocktail humour

True patriot love

IMG_3493

I woke up this morning to birds chirping. My dog and I had a peaceful walk in the neighbouring orchard and then my husband and I had a leisurely breakfast on the deck, eating the cherries we picked from our tree and enjoying the panoramic views of farm fields and Okanagan Lake in the distance.

I putzed in my gardens today; first the vegetable garden, where we have tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, eggplants, various lettuces and some herbs. Then I did some tidying in the edible flower garden out back, listening to the hum of the bees and the trickle of water into our little pond. All summer long we will have edible things growing on our little property.

We are conscious of our water consumption, living in an arid climate, but even when restrictions are in effect we can still water plants and drink from the tap.

Hubbie and I stopped for an ice cream cone this afternoon. We could easily afford two scoops each and we chose from over 2 dozen flavours. Like many other decisions here, I could pick whichever one I wanted, without judgement. It didn’t matter that hubbie and I chose differently, and next time I could pick something else. I don’t need to defend my choice, or changing it.

Being a Canadian doesn’t mean I have to shout my patriotism from the rooftop – it is true that many of us are more reserved, less demonstrative than folks of the neighbouring United States. But that doesn’t mean we are any less proud of our nation.

I am so very pleased that I was born and live in a place where life can be good for so many people, and there are so many beautiful corners to enjoy everything from wilderness to urban jungle. I am proud we have farmers and fishers from coast to coast who work to provide us with so much bounty. We celebrate them every day, honouring the land and the sea that surrounds us.

I hope as we move forward that our country can be a good example of how to work towards sustainability.  How great would it be for Canadians to not only be polite and kind but also good stewards of our planet?

Happy Canada Day!

 

I wonder…

…if the person who invented fireworks was inspired by Mother Nature?

As I watered the garden today it occurred to me that it holds  plenty of inspiration. 

Ready…


Set…


Go!


Children draw “simple flowers” … but have you really looked at a sunflower lately? It looks just like a child’s drawing. 

But there are many possibilities, both in individual blossoms and the entire plants as well as the landscape itself. There is no set design…


There is no single way to grow…


For the kid who loved to wear pink striped socks with a purple embroidered tunic, all this is still  great encouragement every morning. 

Mary, Mary, quite contrary

How does your garden grow?

With silver bells and cockle shells 

And pretty maids all in a row. 

It always seemed like a silly nursery rhyme to me; anyone can see that gardens don’t want to grow in a row. 

Here’s to unruly blossoms that wave in the wind and gardens that inspire the child in all of us! 

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