Mindful gardening

I bought a book today - which in itself isn't unusual, because it happens all too often, but this one looks different, interesting.

One of my most cherished books is Zen and the Art of Quilting, by Sandra Detrixhe - I have read it, and re-read it nearly a dozen times. Thinking of that quiet book with calm confidence saying yes, I do know what I am doing with my quilts -- I picked this one up. The Art of Mindful Gardening, by aptly-named Ark Redwood. (If he was a character in a book, you'd never believe it.)

It helps that it's cute. And so 1930s in style (I freely admit that I'm a sucker for 1930s design ethic: I am reading a biography in the 30s now, and I love classic prints in the style like this cover).

So, what am I doing, blogging about a book I've barely read? I'm excited and I wonder if it will live up to the dippings-in I have tasted and enjoyed.

The garden is lush now, the tomatoes this week measured not in numbers but in bucketfuls. The season is changing and mists in the morning on the farm tell me the days of summer are almost gone.

I read, once, that the true measure of a garden is in the delight it gives you as you notice daily changes. The slow ticking turning of the year. Today I admired new shoots on the scarlet runner beans (maybe another crop is coming) and enjoyed my rustic wooden trellis, the red flowers all tied up with scraps of gingham red-and-white fabric. I delighted in snapdragons pushing out second shoots short but fat with flowers, seed pods rattling dry - break them open to gather next summer's colour. Zucchini for dinner, round ones the size of a tennis ball and two little long dark, dark green ones. Black beauty, they're called. Grilled. The sweetness of tomatoes from the bottom of the bucket.

I can't think of anything much more mindful than a garden. Let's see how this one goes...

Looking to the open sky

I'm working on a little crafty project for work at the moment. I know, yes, I do savour this moment.

We're printing an alphabet of bunting flags for kitchen gardens. Everyone's sent in their artwork or great ideas for words and images. If this works, we'll do a cooking themed one, too.

This is one of my flags for the row of bunting. The triangles will be cut out and the plain coloured ones (which will be complete) go in-between. I'll show you some more if and when I finally finish it!

We're printing via Spoonflower, of course, and this is the project for which I chose the palette, below.

Can't wait to see it fluttering in the breeze!

B

Colourful vegetables; vegetable colours

I'm having a little fun this morning, playing with colours.
Well, more like - playing in colours, as I'm just browsing the palettes made by other people.

From left to right, this reminds me of kale, cabbage, cauliflower, pumpkin (roasted) and, mm, very dark carrots.

Tomatoes and peas and - oh my! That's exactly the colour of the green caterpillars I've been picking off my broccoli plants. (Ate the plants to twigs, damn them.)

And watermelon on a hot day. Dusty grass. Cicadas. Tree bark.

I'm looking for something that reminds me of what a lovely vegetable garden looks and feels like. It's for a project on Spoonflower, some bunting flags for a garden. Or reminiscent of a farmer's market; a big basket of vegetable goodies.


This one's what happens when the blueberries roll to the bottom of your calico bag and mooosh...

Yes, something like this, only with lots of blueberries:

(My goodness, the nectarines are amazing at the moment. Can't stop eating them...)

And this one? Not vegetables, just lovely retro bright happy sunny colours. Blue skies, painted aeroplanes, that sort of thing.

Have a look for yourself: the site is ColourLovers, and they have millions of palettes to distract you, trends and patterns and all sorts of colour fun.

I'm trying out the discipline of choosing a palette and making a project with the palette in front of me.

That nasty >groink< noise

So, first seam on first damentop, let's call it 'shoulder number one'. I've measured and cut, pinned and checked, bought seam tape and consulted my book on how to sew knit jersey. The machine's feeling a little odd, but I think it'll be fin--GROINK. End of damentop sewing.

So this was last weekend, and I've been hunting for a sewing machine repairperson ever since. Me and the old Janome went for a drive on Saturday, but the sign I'm sure I saw advertising sewing machine repairs, isn't there.

In the meantime it's back to planning my garden for the spring. How about this photo for inspiration? This was a B and B we visited years ago not far from here, which had all sorts of 'junk' scattered amidst the plants and the trees. It was a wonderland -- although I felt a little sorry for the singer sewing machine (in the picture above).

So far, progress: I've almost got out all of the mint that bound up the vegetable patch -- mint will take all the available root space and spread like mad. I think it's had 5 years, maybe more, and some places are a solid heavy lump of mint roots. Over the last several weekends, we've hacked and pick-axed and ripped out all of the roots we can find. Most of the bed is resting gently under a nice warm blanket of manure (do your job, wormies!) and there's just a bit that remains to be done. A couple of months of organic rest, and then we plant in spring.

In the meantime, it's back to the hexagons, which are growing like mad (we've hit the upper 50s in hexagon flower production). Nothing like being forced to work only on one project, for results!

TomaToes

We interrupt today's scheduled blogpost to bring you news from the garden. Salad is in. And the tomatoes are popping off the vines - ripening at a rate of ten or so per day.


Lucky, they're little sweet bombs of juice, coddled through the heat with shade of their own and every saved scrap of soap-free water I had.

No, I didn't go out with such a huge bucket, expecting to fill it with tomatoes! It's the laundry basket, emptied onto the line - returning with mint and basil, fresh oregano. I made a yogourty garlicy tsatziki, with salt and cucumbers and a dash of lemon juice, and we had big plates of salad with cold poached chicken, tiny slivers of chorizo, tsatziki and basil on top. Yummy? You bet.

I have load of things to blog about, and pictures to show you. Sadly, they are all on the laptop, and the scheduled crafty photo post is interrupted by the imminence of a paid-for article deadline. There's no way I'll ask for the laptop now.

So, with the main computer downloading images one..... at........a...........time.........zzz.......... my pickings from the garden are greater than my harvest from the camera. Maybe tomorrow.

B

Good things

I got up early this morning, needing to shake the sleep and some clingy bad dreams out of my mind. What better than an early-morning run with the dog?

It's a glorious day - 'Uno altro bello giornata!' calls my little old neighbour as Toby and I jog by. He's a keen gardener, and today he wants us to share some of his lettuces, fresh and smelling like pure green would smell, if it was a smell. 'Grazie tanto, e Toby ditto grazie anche' - we both thank you, in our dreadful Italian. We love garden presents!

Off we trot, to pass the next Italian garden. Now, this is one I've got my eye on. I am trying to work out how, in Italian, to ask about the multi-grafted tree in the front yard. It has lemons (citrone), grapefruit (that's pompelmo, right?), and at least 2 other citron fruit all grafted onto and happily growing on one tree. And once a year it gets all of its branches lopped off -- ohh, ouch, it looks awful -- but sproing, it comes back again and fruiting like mad. I want to know if I could do this to my lemon tree.

When we first moved in, I seem to remember telling Mr Tacc. about the 'scary' old man who stands on the street every morning, watching people walking past. Then we got a dog. Now, every morning, they have an open-armed reception, a big Italian-dog cuddle and lots of 'Ay!' hellos. My dog adores this man. Even when accidentally broad-sided by the hose (now, that was funny!) Soaking wet, Toby leapt over the wall, tail wagging furiously, he barked once at his friend as if to say - 'Hey! Look what you did to me! I'm all wet! Want to play again?!'

On Friday, a leaflet for classes at the Centre for Italian Studies arrived in the post. I'm pretty tempted. Not because I want to learn holiday Italian but for the gardening goss. I want to know how these guys get such amazing gardens with artichokes, aubergines, zucchini, and of course, rows and rows of tomatoes in the front garden. There's only so much you can say with words like 'bella verdure' and 'grazie'. And 15th century art history terminology. They didn't talk much about grafting in my textbooks....

I'm off to enjoy my cafe, panettone, e la bella giornata.

B

My garden grows - in my mind

Something's eating my garden. And it's not me.

It's the perennial problem of the gardener: you plant in excitement, wait in hope, greet shoots with glee, and then despair as the caterpillars move in.

At least there are two things in the garden that are going great guns. My tomato plants are a wild and unruly bunch of long-legged green ladies (To use too many adjectives and a mixed metaphor. Must be the editing job, I'm on an adjective diet, which means occasional binges.)

Anyway, these lovelies are also holding up well: must be because they're not edible.


But they are sweet, aren't they?

Late....

It's late, and I'm sitting up with my laptop, just a quick post before bed. I can't fall over now, the second-to-last day of Blogtoberfest. Not after the superb cake-roundup, Nana's cool shirt, or the pattern goodness with delightful envelope drawings. You - we - have all put in so much effort, written so many interesting and thoughtful posts, and made some new connections.

Everything has gone quiet, and there are fewer trains, just the occasional car, and the sound of seed pods popping on the tin roof as they fall. Today's fierce wind is gone. My latest mini-quilt is a saturated wet square hanging on the line in the dark, wild man of the forest painted, eyes black and mouth spouting leaves. An early Hallow's Eve sprite; an old man of the woods, Jack in the Green.

Tomorrow it all starts up again: work, play, talk, organising, doing, being, out and about. An all-night craft-a-thon midnight pyjama party with my crafty gang, we're going to dabble in the art of stichery witchery. But for now, I'm off to bed to dream of leaves, moss and quiet things.

B

Tea... pots!

I'm playing along in the Veg About going on over at Bellgirl at the moment. My planting progress this week has been a leetle slower than I'd like, but here are a couple of shots of the new residents of my garden.

First to hit the decks and be planted: twelve tiny basil plants.

Grow, kiddies, grow! Youse all gonna be pesto.

Then, this got the dirt good and grubby under the nails as I prepared these pots for the veggies and herbs that await them: tomatoes - 6 roma and 3 tom thumb tinies, coriander, and the strawberries are already in and have been vetted by Mr. Blackbird.


If I have a large pot left over, I'll plant one potato plant, probably kipfler, known as Hattifattners in our house, after our favourite children's books of all time. And I found a self-seeded tomato that looks strong enough to leave it in and see what it comes to.

Finally, if there's only one thing I know about gardening, especially in a pot, it's that vegges really like a nice cup of tea.

They like it strong. Sun-brewed, no milk.

That's manure tea, right: 3 large handfuls of manure, warm water, mixed well and left to sit in the sun all day. Pour it on when the sun goes down (less evaporation, good water wise-ness), and let the plants soak up the muck. Not too often: once every couple of weeks sounds right for me (anyone know for sure? Leave a comment - I could do with the advice!)

More fun over at Bellgirl, where you'll find a list of lovely veggie-planting bloggers, including fun from Life in the Dome and Bowerbirdz. Go enjoy some hunting and gathering!

- B

Blogtoberfesting, country style....

Guten Morgen, meine Blogtoberfesteren! (?)

Today we are out and about, looking for creative inspiration. We smile through clouds of bees - in between sneezes. We search for zee seeds of zuper-crafty art ideas!

Ah, I see it now.....

Inspiration is dawning....

I see a range of....

Yellow Quilts!
Yellow bags!
Tissue holders!

(Back tomorrow, I'm just out and about today.)

B

Red roses and resident blackbirds

Paperweights, preserved moths, beetles and shells. (ROM museum, Toronto)

I'm sitting in the window of my front room, looking out at red, red roses glowing in the sunshine. I don't know how it happened, but we have a bumper crop of roses all of a sudden, and they are a real joy. Even to a girl who isn't a huge rose fanatic and who loves eucalyptus flowers, bottly-brush grevilleas and all of our spectacular native flowers.

This is not my garden, but every girl can dream... (South island, New Zealand)

After yesterday's big blog rant, I am uninspired today. Perhaps I burned up all I had to say for the moment. Your comments and emails were much appreciated -- isn't it funny how we're not alone? I spent most of the day working on a freelance contract, but when the sun came out, I just had to dash out into the garden to get some soil prepared for the veggies. I'm participating in the Veg About over at Bellgirl: are you?

Our resident blackbird Papa and Mama perched on the fence and kept a wary eye on me, occasionally darting into the ivy. Whenever I found a slug or an earwig, I put it on top of the garbage bin next to me, and although I didn't see or hear the birds come past me, the offerings disappeared at a regular rate. I've got seven large tubs ready to receive tomatoes, strawberries and coriander, and I've left them for the birds to pick over the soil before heading out to plant one or two things. I do love spring!

Tomorrow, it's back to my volunteer job, and I'm looking forward to it. It's exciting to get to flex these new editing skills and the writing muscles in aid of a cheffy-foody charity that you admire. Hurrah, I say! And another interview. And a talk at the Victorian Writers' Centre in the evening. Busy, and all good.

I'd better plant some tomatoes. So much for having nothing to say... I'll file this one under "Rambles"!

B

Love Friday...

... because Mr. and Mrs. Blackbird are nesting in our garden.

No photos, yet, they are very shy - but the peeps are demanding their grub(s), so there is constant coming and going over our high back fence.

They land on the fence - eyeball us - bounce-left, bounce-right and - zzZIM! - into the ivy.

Mad delighted hungry cheeping noises emit.

B

This is...

What I do with a spare ten minutes:
(But then ten minutes can be a euphemism, as in "I'll just be ten minutes" - translation: "Go away and stop hassling me for a bit.") Application of hot water usually helps.

Here's another favourite ten minute idea:
Many years ago, I had a 70km commute to an early start at a job I didn't like much. Most mornings, I built in ten minutes to my schedule - and I planted something before I left. A seedling, or a handful of seeds. In a pot or tucked in the garden beds. I felt that even if I didn't like where my time was being spent, at least the seeds were in and growing every minute of that day. (And I ended up with a packed garden plus a house full of flowers!)

This meme was brought to you by the lovely folks Handmaiden (love those clocks!), Hoppo Bumpo, who suggested the theme, and Three Buttons, who started it all off.