Saying yes to color

Spring is in full swing in this part of Oregon, and the fields, highway median strips and yards are all filled with gorgeous color -- daffodils, azaleas, cherry and flowering pear blossoms, all doing their part to make the local area a more vibrant, enchanting place.

My own contribution to the world of color came when I swapped out a boring beige study for a buttery yellow one. As someone who (years ago, in my minimalist phase) would have argued that Navaho White is, indeed, a dramatic color, going for this splash of yellow is true progress. This room gets predominantly northern exposure, so it does not get much direct light in winter. Plus it will host our large library units, which are dark wood. So I thought a definite shade of actual color would do well alongside all that wood and wintery exposure.

When using color on walls, the three stages of progress are excitement, fear, and then either satisfaction or horror. Luckily for me, Stage Three was satisfaction, although I went through a good half hour of abject terror as I was cutting in with my paint brush, mainly because it was such a different color than I'm used to using.

But I figure, this is a farmhouse, and so some warm farm-like colors are a good thing. In small doses -- most of the house will stay painted in shades of neutral. But a creating a nice warm, country feel in a library seems like it encourages reading and relaxing. Or, as we say in the country, readin' and relaxin'.

The other nice thing is that I see myself bucking that recent trend of gray everything. Although gray is one of the colors I'm considering for the exterior, so I can't sit on too high a horse. Either way, I'm happy with how this room turned out.

Fear...

Feeling slightly hopeful...

And in love with the look!

The birds

How I used to feel in my spring garden.

This spring has been different in one very substantive way...I have not had to fight either the wind, the birds, or the insects in my garden. Right now there are potatoes, carrots, lots of lettuce and some spinach growing, which will mean a bountiful harvest until about June I would guess.

It's been so lovely to pass by the lettuce section of the produce department every time I visit the grocery store without needing to purchase any, after a couple of years of frustration in trying to grow it.

This year, it's different.

The trick, it turns out, is shade cloth. I will fully admit stealing my inspiration for this new addition from my friend Beth, who showed me her garden last year nestled under its white canopy of shade cloth. Seemingly free of insects and certainly not damaged by wind or birds, all her crops looked beautiful and I got a serious case of crop envy.

And so this year, I installed the row cover supports and put everything except the potatoes and onions under wraps. And it worked. 

Munched! A lapse of judgement -- no shade cloth -- quickly rectified.

I know all this made a difference because this morning, with a rainstorm coming in, I put in some spinach transplants, and figured a couple of hours without a cloth cover wouldn't make much difference in bad weather. The birds wouldn't be out and about, right? I was wrong. When I went back out the winged criminals were fleeing the scene, after picking apart one spinach transplant completely, and probably getting ready to move onto the others. And so, in the middle of the rain, I covered the rest of the spinach and left the birds to find forage in our pasture.

It may have taken me five years to figure out, but I think I finally understand the rules to growing here: grow it under wraps.

Rearranging Deck Chairs and Chopping Wood

Sometimes it feels absolutely surreal to go from the morning news to outside, around our property. With so much turmoil, how can there be such peace within nature?  Do you ever feel that way?

The spring grass is getting tall, the birds are starting to seek out nesting materials, and they're perfectly content in their lives -- quite unlike what I see when I turn on the news. Most days that feels we're all just stacking up the deck chairs at the non-sinking end of the Titanic. The band still hasn't played "Nearer My God To Thee" yet, so we still have a long ways to go, however. I just hope Jack and Rose are okay.

Living on the west coast that's actually how it feels sometimes...like the rest of the country is tilting and we're sitting on a little island of dryness and safety...for now, anyway. 

Of course the tilting country analogy is not really the case; there are plenty of other places in the country that feel like we do here, but after years of planning my exit from California, for once it feels good to be knee-deep amidst all the "silly" environmental regulations, generous state health care, and at times ridiculous seeming touchy-feeliness. It doesn't feel so ridiculous anymore. It's actually quite comforting to know I live in a state that embraces the voiceless, the downtrodden, and the dreamers. And the environment. Even if sometimes it's at a semi-ridiculous opposite end of the spectrum, I'd rather be here than more "red" parts of the country, let's just say that.

I don't have to worry about my representatives voicing my opinions in Congress, because as one of the most liberal areas in one of the most liberal states, I know that's going to happen. So we have that going for us. 

So what's a resistance fighter to do? Chop wood, carry water, as the Buddhist saying goes. In other words, the usual routine -- so comforting when things seem crazy elsewhere. So in light of that, I realized that I was overdue for two improvements in my home garden. One was an automatic irrigation system in the raised vegetable beds, and the other was floating row covers, so in the last week or so, Big Ag and I have been busy installing both.

Why did it take me so long to put both these things in? I guess sometimes life is like that...you get into a rut ( also known as "a routine") you don't even realize you're in until you're out of it. Most of our industrially-focused civilization we live in is like this, all the time...we don't know how much we need something until we have it. The cell phone. The laptop. The food processor. That can cut both ways; it's always important to know how to do most things by hand, but there's nothing wrong with shortcuts if you're proficient and just need to save either time or energy.

That's certainly the case for our country as well. Those of us who have assumed the environment would always be protected, that the highest levels of government would be run in an orderly fashion, and that if our leaders did not always welcome the inquiries of the press that they would still honor them, have had a wake-up call about just how quickly all that can change. 

And so vigilance all around appears to be the call of the day. The nice thing is, at least we still have the birds, the wildlife, and nature to enjoy while we're going about our business. But no small effort of vigilance is important there, too, if we value what we currently enjoy.

So pick your metaphor. Chop wood and carry water. Move those deck chairs. Either way, stay vigilant, but also stay in touch with those things you're most invested in protecting. Those are the things that will keep you sane through times like this.

Welcome June

June is bringing in the hottest weather of the year so far; no June Gloom fog and clouds here this year, sadly -- although the month is young, right? But things around the garden are loving this spate of heat, which will likely go away within a week or so. (hear oh Lord our prayer)

Milk Carton Tomato Kids.

The tomatoes are snug in their milk cartons to protect them from the wind and are quite happy.

As are the zucchini squash I said I wasn't going to plant again this year....Why do I plant zucchini. Why? Why? Because I need something to leave on my coworkers' desks when they are not looking. That's why.

I even planted a bed for cutting flowers this year with a couple of Bell Peppers thrown in for good measure. We'll see how that goes.

20 more just like this one!

And I've had the best berry harvest since moving here. More than enough for pies and sauces and galettes galore. While I sold some of these beauties in the past, this year everything is being preserved, because last year I got only a handful of berries. The moral of that story is that you just never know what the weather is going to to for, or to, your crop. The Great Berry Deficit of 2015 was a crisis of epic proportions, so this year I'm not taking any chances. Sorry, friends and neighbors. It's every man for him/herself where berries are concerned. Get your own.

My garden at work is producing zucchini already, along with tomatoes and lots of herbs. And my corn and pumpkins are popping up, too! (Pics later this week)

But still, when it's this hot, the order of the day is to finish work early, say by 10 a.m., and shelter in place somewhere cool, like inside with a good book. I'm currently reading "The Geography of Bliss" by Eric Weiner...a look at the places on earth where people are the most happy. Fascinating.

Berry good.

I'll tell you what...as long as I have plenty of berries and a cool place to retreat to in the heat of the afternoon, I'm convinced I'm actually in one of the happier places on earth, even when it's triple digits outside.

Hope your spring is springing up lots of greenery and food!

Spinach and Spinozad

Bountiful harvest.

After a slow start, I'm happy to report that I had the best spinach harvest since moving here, which I blanched and put up yesterday. It feels good to know we'll have enough for frittatas, dips, omelettes, and whatever else we need a little green in.

Amazing how little comes from so much once it's blanched!

The insects almost completely killed this crop. The only reason it survived was due to the thick nature of the leaves and the fact that they couldn't demolish the leaves completely, thereby allowing the plants to grow despite damage. Insects did kill all my spring lettuce, and after planting a new Globe basil plant yesterday I went outside only to find it reduced to nothing but stems. Completely killed in less than 24 hours! I was just dismayed when I saw the little basil skeleton this morning, and it strengthened a resolve in me to not let this be the end of my spring gardening. I also have two Ichiban eggplants that are getting attacked, but they will probably survive if I can take care of things quickly.

Eggplant damage

And so I will be stepping up my insect control game, starting now. No more traps with oil, soy sauce and salt. No more diatomaceous earth. I'm moving up to Spinozad. Unfortunately, Spinozad is toxic to bees within the first three hours of application, so I will be putting it on at sunset to make sure everyone's safe. Our evenings are projected to be down into the 30's, so I figure it will be sitting for about 12 hours before there are any bees about. That should make it safe for them.

RIP little basil.

I just can't keep losing entire crops to the earwigs, and this year there has been a banner hatch of them, probably due to having a decent amount of rain.

In the meantime, I'll just celebrate my spinach win and call it at that.

Volunteers

There are several humorous online tests you can take for OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) and more than a few funny memes to test yourself and see how bad you are, like this one:

If this irritates you, you may have a few (or a lot) of OCD tendencies. But here on the homestead another good gauge of OCD is how (and what) you do with your property's volunteer population -- those plants you had nothing to do with buying or seeding -- which just show up one day, usually in a funky place where they do not belong or fit in.

This gaillardia, for example is so stunning I am dying to move it to a place where it can be shown off, rather than where it currently sits in our pasture. But since it looks like this with absolutely no supplemental water and has been here for as long as we have, I am afraid if I try and move it I'll sever the tap root that's probably keeping it alive. I'm sure if we ever get livestock I will fence it in or borrow a tractor to dip deep and bring it up, but for now I get to enjoy it every once in awhile when I am down pruning berries or weeding.

These coyote bushes showed up in the exact spot you see them in, when we killed the front lawn (intentionally) the first summer we moved in, as we prepared to plant some drought tolerant plants. I decided to leave them in and they are now two massive, oval-shaped shrubs, which do require shaping but little else (including water). And both the birds and bees absolutely love them, so I'm happy to allow them to stay. True, I had to do my landscape design around them, but to have two such mature-looking plants in the yard after only three years was worth some revision.

These baby coyote brush plants (above) will be transplanted up to the top fence line of our property, where we plan on having a privacy hedge. One thing I can say about coyote brush is that while many of our neighbors remove it as soon as they see it, we use it.  Free native plants, right?

And this little tomato somehow withstood all our winter freezes and is planning on blossoming soon. This is perhaps our most important volunteer, because through its survival, I now know we have a significant warm microclimate in this spot in the yard where it may be possible to grow citrus. So thank you persistent tomato plant. 

Spring blues

Vinca, foreground, with Wooly Blue and Rosemary in background. Spring blues.

This is the time of year when everything blue and purple seems to bloom. Rosemary, of course, is in total crazy abundance, which the bees are thrilled about. Our rosemary bushes literally hum this time of year. But also Vinca and Wooly Blue.

This 10 year old rosemary is magnificent this time of year and hums with bees.

Our large planter bed in the back yard now has finished brickwork (except for the capstones for low seating, which we'll install once the planting is done) and is filled with soil. We hauled the last five yards of soil using our neighbor's tractor, which made it so much easier. 

Just starting to plant this bed, got the Irises and Agapanthus in place so far. Watch this space!

And we have the first wildflowers coming up in the pasture. Actually it's amazing how green everything is right now, although there are still plenty of trees that are dormant and bare. 

Vines are sleeping but wildflowers are up and at 'em.

Vinca loves spring but hates summer around here.

Our El Nino seems to have pooped out as far as rain goes. Thus far we've had average rain. Since we've only lived here since 2012, when this drought really got started, we've literally never seen a normal rain year here...and if February and spring are as dry as everyone is predicting, we'll go another year without seeing the rain that is "normal." 

I like Wooly Blue and Yarrow together.

Unless, of course, this is the new normal. Let's try not to believe that until we absolutely have to.

January spring

It's early spring here on the homestead. Around the central coast, we generally get a long spring and long summer, and late January is generally when we start seeing our first hints of spring. Fall and winter are both extremely brief, which people either love or hate, depending on their general temperament. I'm in between, loving the long spring but hating the long summers. And missing a good fall every year. Someday we will retire and do something about that, but for now, there is plenty here to love. And it seems appropriate to have a lot of green inside, too, to match what's outside.

Anyway, even though the first almond blossoms are starting to appear and the hills are turning emerald green, you don't dare plant anything yet, as frosts and even freezes are still probable.

If summer is the time to be inside in the air conditioning (while all you midwesterners and easterners are outside loving the sunshine and your garden) then late January and February is the time of year for us to be out and about outdoors. It's cool enough to work (65 degrees F this week as a high temperature), sunny enough to be pleasant, and a great time to get things done before the heat comes. Because it's coming. Of that there is no doubt.

Today I pondered what's going to go into my big raised stone flowerbed, other than irises and milkweed. Such endless possibilities! Building this wall was very easy. Now we just have to add the back and fill it up with good soil.

I added some beach pebbles to the metal agave plants and their colorful pots. Decided the gazing ball belonged with its similarly colored siblings, the pots. So now I have some color and interest where I needed some but did not want to add any more plants.

Found this Enrico Coveri scarf at Goodwill for $1.75. Score. Wore it to work last week at the winery and got tons of compliments on it.

We have salads galore and have been using a dressing of Mandarin Orange Oil and Fig White Balsamic to go on them from our local olive oil company, Olivas de Oro. So delicious and refreshing. I planted some more lettuce and spinach this week to keep the greens coming.

All in all, it's been a lovely January spring so far.

Goings On

Three out of four seasons finished.

It's been a busy week here at the homestead.  This has, in many ways, kind of been my ideal week; lots of creative projects, all of which were fairly low-budget.

First off is that the barn quilts are finished and are just waiting for Big Ag and Groceries to hang them.  Correction:  Big Ag and Groceries have been ready to hang them for awhile now, but their days off have unfortunately coincided with rain, so we've waited.  But here's a preview (above) of three out of four of them.  The "fall" quilt was under construction when this photo was taken, but has been completed since that time. They will hang on this wall as a way to remind me of the cycles of the garden -- winter, spring, summer, fall.

The quilts came out so nicely that the owner of the winery where I work commissioned me to do two more for the outbuildings there, which I'm looking forward to doing. It will add a welcoming touch for visitors to see from the road, for me it will be something I can always look at when I drive by and say, "I made that," even after I'm retired. I love where I work, and so this will be a pleasure to do.

Sit down and stay awhile!

The other big project has been the cleaning and reclamation of the former Homestead Room, the glass-walled mystery space and, for us, storage room, where we stored All Things Homestead..that is, until a few weeks ago, when all the homestead accessories moved into the garage, leaving a big glass room with no clear purpose.

I have repurposed it as a quiet retreat for myself, complete with a comfortable futon with a throw blanket and pillows, a nice rug, and of course lots of plants. It will still be a functional greenhouse, growing not only all my spring seedlings but also a dwarf Bearrs Lime Tree and a dwarf Meyer Lemon, plus assorted succulents and other tender or frost-sensitive plants. But it will also be my place of quietude, perfect for when Big Ag wants to watch his crime/war/cheesy nature-reality shows and I want to be outside (but not in the direct sun) watching the birds and wildlife.

We have other news as well, but it will have to wait until it's official in a couple more weeks, so until then my lips are sealed.  But it's something very good. The other good thing is that spinach and snow peas went in the ground yesterday and the lettuce crop is giving us salads each and every night, so we feel very thankful.

My tender babies.

Good news and plenty of creative projects seems to be the key to happy, happy days.  At least it seems that way to me.  I know most of the country is battling a killer winter, and you've been in my thoughts. Wish I could send some sunshine your way.

First Fruits

First lupin.

After our rainy weekend, we are drying out and warming up, which is actually quite nice.  All over the signs of spring are becoming apparent -- the early-blooming trees, and a few flowers and buds on almost everything.  The rain was a much-needed drink for everything and a great softener of the soil, so I spent most of this morning weeding around my trees and vines, by hand.  I love the frogs and toads who sing to me all night long, enough that I am willing to forego spraying anyplace which might provide a habitat for them.  And when the soil is this loose and wet, pulling weeds is honestly just as easy as spraying them.

As I was working this morning, I spied the first wildflowers on the hill, as well as the first lupin blossom.  My own habit is to never take the first fruits of anything from our property -- not flowers, fruits or vegetables -- for ourselves. Instead, I like leaving it, if possible, as an offering to God and the land itself, as recognition that I play only a small part in the cycle of life around this place, and that most of it is not within my power.  Flowers are easy to leave, but since leaving produce on the vine to rot is not always wise, where it's not practical to do so I give it to the field or the chickens, as a way of passing it on instead of taking it for myself.

I realize I'm not the first person to dedicate "first fruits" to the Creator or Mother Nature, so I'm guessing there's something instinctive and hard-wired into this method of honoring the natural world.

Mr. Roadrunner.

As I was working in the sunshine, a large roadrunner sat on one of our fence posts and sang his song to me. The song of the roadrunner is a low, almost mournful kind of "hoo, hoo, hoo," but mournful is in the eye (or ear) of the beholder; I sensed my roadrunner friend was feeling good and looking for a lady friend, so obviously the low hoo-ing is a spring sound, filled with hope and anticipation.

And so, with my seed packets and empty mason jars, I am also filled with hope and anticipation with the start of this new season.  Hoo hoo to the roadrunner and everything else coming back to life in this season of Newness.

Out and About -- Photo "Phriday"

An errand day around town today, and so I thought I'd post some pictures of our very early, but nonetheless lovely, spring.

Bradford pears outside the local sports club.

Mustard in bloom on the road home.

Vineyards are still sleeping.

Winter's List

My chore list for winter is now about halfway done, which is good because I saw the first Bradford pears in bloom a couple of days ago outside the local supermarket, meaning spring is just around the corner.

I don't remember spring coming in January; by my accounts that's about three weeks earlier than in my childhood, but considering the impacts of climate change I don't doubt the change.

It does, however, make me want to speed the plow a bit where my winter list is concerned.  The barn quilts are almost done (I'll post pics once I'm finished!), the raised beds are almost ready for spring planting, I do already have some nice lettuce in the ground and the carrots are all harvested.

We have a couple of landscape projects to start, which will entail removing even more lawn than we already have.  In this drought, I just can't tolerate putting fresh drinking water on a pleasure lawn, and so we may end up with a bigger patio area (which means more room to entertain and lounge outdoors!). Plus we'll be adding some nice, drought-tolerant landscape shrubs, to provide some pretty color. 

If we can make it through this list, I will feel a great sense of satisfaction as the days grow longer and warmer.

How are your winter projects coming?  

Holding the hill

Native plants, holding our hill in place.

We've had about 5 inches of rain since the new year, and it definitely shows on most of the hillsides.  All over, there are native grasses, mustard and lupines, along with about 10 other species I can't yet identify.  

Lupines and other flowers amid the raspberry vines.

When the rain comes there are always certain places in California where mudslides are a possibility, but we have chosen to let our hillside remain in its native state, with no plowing down or discing going on. I believe it not only helps the native insects, reptiles and bees in the area, but also the topsoil.  Which can only be good, for us as well as all the other creatures we share the land with.  

Natural beauty with a purpose.

We will whack some of this down once it's gone to seed and turned brown, but for now we're enjoying the green grasses and flowers dotting the hillsides.