Last weekend I helped my yard wake up from its long winter’s nap. I swept thick layers of leaves off the paths, did hours of pruning, pulled up loads of winter weeds, and planted pink and white dianthus around my three stone birdbaths near the …
Some time ago I worked with a very nice man who loved fall. On the first slightly cool day in October during the first year that I knew him, he arrived at work exhilarated, full of happy plans for the season, and he shared those …
For the last half of January, all of February, and most of March, I was working obsessively (in the evenings and on weekends) on a small painting of our backyard. The painting was very hard for me to finish because the scene I was trying to capture included about a billion leaves. I’m a beginner in acrylics and don’t know how to suggest leaves the way a more skilled painter would do. No, instead I have to sit there and paint every leaf individually, one by one, because I haven’t mastered any advanced techniques yet. Oh my gosh, painting all those leaves was so laborious. I kept complaining (jokingly) to Rob that I was “in a hell of leaves.”
But to be honest, I loved being in that hell of leaves. I loved working on my dumb painting every evening as Buntin sat in my lap doing “crabby cuddles” (purring and snuggling and then growling softly whenever I had the gall to move). I fell into the habit of listening to old episodes of Unsolved Mysteries on my phone as I worked. Unsolved Mysteries was such a great show, especially the “Lost Loves” segments, in which family members or old friends would be reunited after long years of searching for one another. Almost every night as I listened I’d get Buntin’s fur wet with tears.
When I finally finished my painting on March 21, I felt relieved but also a tiny bit lost. What fun little project would I work on next? Luckily, spring had sprung while I was painting, so there were lots of fresh possibilities. I could take pictures of our beautiful white plum tree that I like to call the Snow Queen . . . or plant more purple coneflowers for the butterflies to enjoy . . . or I could make a cake for Rob and garnish it with wild violets. Winter was over, and maybe the pandemic would be over soon too. It was a whole new world with so much to look forward to.
Tabitha and Julie Belle among the ferns:
Golden ragwort galore:
The wild azaleas in bloom:
American plum blossoms:
When I was a child, October was my favorite month. I loved Halloween and the special crispness and sparkle of the early-fall days. All month I’d live in a state of high excitement and dread going to sleep for fear I’d miss something–a visit from …
Spring is my favorite season. It always has been. When I was a child, spring started, in my opinion, in February, when the wild violets appeared like magic in the little scrap of woods behind our backyard in Tallahassee. My sister Kris and I would …
Fall is here in all its glory. We’ve got camellias and sasanquas blooming like crazy, and our beech trees have turned gold. Bright satsumas and lemons hang like ornaments, like Christmas balls. The ageratum has turned ghostly. In the late afternoons the sun gets so dramatic, slanting through the meadow garden. It lights up all the downy seed heads and makes them shimmer and sparkle.
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| A Shi Shi Gashira sasanqua |
The chilly weather is definitely a bad influence on our cats. They are so lazy. These days most all they do is lie on the heat vents and sleep (while getting blasted with hot air), or sleep in our laps, trapping us (“Well, I guess I’ll be sitting here for a while,” Rob will say, “because I can’t disturb Frankie.”).
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| Becky doing bunny paws in a sunbeam |
This weekend was pretty cozy, full of fall-y activities. We raked leaves and stored them away in the garage so we can use them later in our compost bins. We popped popcorn and made cranberry sauce and picked baskets of satsumas and collards and hot peppers. We even picked our first pummelo—it was melon-sized and so mild and sweet.
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| Some of the satsumas we picked |
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| The great pummelo |
Our Tabasco peppers are really going strong right now. Our two plants look like little candy trees because they’re covered in bright shiny petite peppers that make me think of Mike and Ikes and Hot Tamales. The peppers are green, yellow, orange, and red. This weekend as Rob and I were picking them, we were talking about how cute they are. “I think they should be called gumdrop peppers,” Rob said.
On Saturday night we sat around the kitchen table and cracked pecans from our own trees. It was really fun. We weren’t hurrying. We were taking our time. I was drinking hot lemonade (made with our own Meyer lemons) and wearing my new plaid pajamas (I love new pajamas). The cats were gathered around, of course, and we were having dumb little conversations about them.
“Has Carl told you about his part in the school Christmas pageant?” I asked at one point. I always pretend that Carl goes to school and piano lessons and such even though he’s a cat. In my games he’s a cat, but he’s fully integrated into human society. He’s a cat, but nobody seems to notice. “His class is singing ‘Silent Night,’ and he’s playing the triangle.”
“You must be very proud,” Rob said.
“Oh, I am. I need to go to Dillard’s and get myself a new dress to wear.”
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| Sweet Carl. I pretend he goes to private school. Nothing but the best for Carl. |
Rob had never cracked pecans before, but I’m an old hand. When I was a kid, our family would often crack pecans on cold winter nights. My brother and sisters and I would sit at our kitchen table in our pajamas and pick at the nuts with dental tools. Often the heat didn’t work in our house, so we’d turn on the oven and open the door so the warmth would pour out. The oven was like a little fireplace. We’d tell lots of jokes and eat funny, delicious snacks—maybe Velveeta cheese melted on saltines, or Velveeta melted on popcorn. Whatever it was, Velveeta was generally involved.
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| One of my little displays—vintage chowder bowls and cordial glasses. I just thought I’d show you what I see when I’m cracking pecans. |
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| A pleasant corner of the china cabinet |
I’m so glad it’s finally spring. Rob and I have been harvesting spinach and cabbage and planting peppers and tomatoes and reveling in the scent of wild azaleas. The picnic table is covered with pollen, and the columbine is blooming, and there are catbirds “meowing” …
On Saturday Rob and I drove to Thomasville, Georgia, to order stone so we can make paths around our pond. I always enjoy the drive to Thomasville, but it’s especially beautiful at this time of year, when the country roads are …
No, it’s not a hummingbird or a fairy; it’s a hurricane lily.
This is a level of frou-frou-ness unparalleled in the world of flowers.
Right now I just want to eat up the world because everything is so pretty! Suddenly we have hurricane lilies–everywhere! They come up without leaves, without warning. The bulb sends up this ridiculously fancy flower that reminds me of the Forsyth Park fountain in Savannah (the fountain is two-tiered, with Tritons, and the flower is really over-the-top like that).
Our yard was looking so boring, worn out by the heat–and then the hurricane lilies showed up. And then it rained and the temperature dropped, and all sorts of other stuff started blooming, too–ageratum (purple and powderpuff-like), cutleaf coneflowers, golden asters, Georgia asters, goldenrod, and rosinweed. I’ve been seeing lots of box turtles around the yard, and fat banana spiders. Rob said he saw a possum eating out of the cat food bowls the other night. Rob always says our cat Leroy looks like a possum, so he claimed the possum was Leroy’s father.
We’ve got a lot of our fall vegetables in the ground now. Last week we planted 64 cloves of Inchelium Red garlic, and when we looked at them today we realized that they’ve already sprouted! We planted Holland Red shallots last weekend too, and kale, collards, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and purple and white cabbage. We’re still harvesting lots of clown, habanero, cayenne, and datil peppers–oh, and some Matt’s Wild Cherry tomatoes.
But nothing’s doing as great as the sweet potatoes. The sweet potatoes take the cake! Today we dug our first Beauregard sweet potatoes and we were totally amazed and elated. These things were HUGE–literally football sized!–and they were erupting out of the ground all on their own, just bulging out of the dirt. Digging them was so much fun and so easy, like mining in a magical land salted with enormous gems. Rob said that as we pulled them out “we were both squealing like preteen girls at a Jonas Brothers concert.”
Our biggest sweet potato weighed three pounds all by itself. It was perfect–bright coral pink inside and so sweet. We used it to make an awesome curry. Here is the recipe:
Sweet Potato Curry
Main Ingredients:
Olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
8 clown peppers, chopped
4 habanero peppers, minced
3 lbs sweet potatoes, chopped
2 baking potatoes, chopped
1 head cauliflower, chopped
2 cans coconut milk
1 28-ounce can diced tomatoes
1 small bag frozen green peas
2 Tbls mustard seeds
Curry Paste Ingredients:
5 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbls vegetable oil
1/4 cup fresh mint leaves, chopped
1-2 Tbls fenugreek leaves
2 Tbls cumin
2 Tbls coriander
1/2 tsp asafoetida powder
1/2 tsp paprika
2 tsps ground ginger
1 tsp garam masala
Salt to taste
Directions:
In a large soup pot, sauté the peppers and onion in oil over medium-high heat until the onion is tender and translucent. Add the sweet potatoes, potatoes, and cauliflower. Cover the pot and sweat the vegetables over medium heat until they are tender (about 20 minutes).
While the vegetables cook, prepare the curry paste. Combine all the ingredients in a bowl and process with an immersion blender until you have a smooth paste.
Add the curry paste to the pot with the cooked vegetables. Then add the coconut milk and diced tomatoes. Add the frozen peas. Stir everything together until it well combined. Cover and cook over medium to medium-low heat for 20 minutes. Stir occasionally to prevent the curry from sticking to the bottom.
The amazing Beauregard sweet potato haul!
Look at the size of this thing!
Gratuitous cuteness: Becky on the screen porch
