Well hello Summer!
And hello again dear readers! In case you haven't noticed, my column was called "Spring Gardening", and now we're well out of Spring and into Summer. No, the gardening doesn't stop, but the focus changes, and as I wrote last week, this is time for general upkeep and lots of waiting, But I'm still here to blog, just shifting to quieter times spent cultivating a different style of living, full of flavor and new experiences.
I don't know about you, but I'm weekday worker, and have been found myself becoming "one of those" people. The one that wears (albeit metaphorically) "I work for the weekend" tee shirts and dreads Mondays worse than menstrual cramps. The kicker is (obviously) Monday happens once a week.
Don't tell the boss, but I spend a lot of time at work daydreaming flavor combinations to work into evening dinners. Usually I turn to 101 Cookbooks, and even finds like Lizzie's Home Made have inspired the likes of peppering fruit and experimenting with mostarda.
I'm not what I would consider a Slow Foodie, but the Slow Foods USA website explains:
Slow Food is also simply about taking the time to slow down and to
enjoy life with family and friends. Every day can be enriched by doing
something slow - making pasta from scratch one night, seductively
squeezing your own orange juice from the fresh fruit, lingering over a
glass of wine and a slice of cheese - even deciding to eat lunch
sitting down instead of standing up.
So this workday drudgery has left me searching for ways to slow the relaxing hours down, to leech each moment for all the rejuvenating experiences Friday through Sunday has to offer. Some things that have paid off big: parking the car after work on Friday until it's time to get back in it on Monday. A new experience that has taught me the luxury of not driving. Considering food to be part of the entertainment. Which also leads to the treasure hunt of local foods, making it to the Farmer's Market, researching local sources of dairy (if you care to consume dairy), and finding the chickens that lay your breakfast eggs. Commune in your community.
The limited travel distance, as the wary and unfit bicycler that I am,
leaves plenty of time to stay on the homefront, watching birds and
hanging clothes on the line to dry. Have you ever had the luxury of
smelling towels fresh off the line? The scent is something reminiscent
of a tee shirt worn for a day on the beach. It's something akin to
fresh air and vacation, all rolled up into one subtle, olfactory moment.
This week, I've been feeling full of slow, wondering what to do with
the spent rose petals leftover from dead-heading. Integrating the
"using the whole animal" philosophy into my gardening, I decided to try
my hand at homemade rosewater, this recipe seemed next in order. Actually, it's not just because I'm up for making rosewater. {enter tangential story}
So yesterday evening, me and my man were getting geared up (haha, bike humor) for another car-free weekend. Biking everywhere provides the opportunity to stop and say hi to your neighbors, look around and find native plants and the secret magical nooks of your neighborhood--the ones you miss when zipping by in a car. Leaving the stress of defensive driving behind and smiling as you pass people getting into their autos, knowing your experience isn't numbed down by glass windows.
We were working on final details of our new bike cart, a
project that will ultimately give us more freedom on car free weekends to carry dog food and other bulky items home from the store should the need arise. We used the Flatsy for inspiration and bought nearly all of the materials from the Habitat for Humanity ReStore (conduit and clamps) and the Salvation Army (old bike with good tires).
From our front yard, where we pieced together the trailer, there is a clear view into the unfenced back yards of the
4 neighboring houses. It's a strange set up, basically the result of
subdividing lots over the past 60+ years.
Lo and behold, 2 houses down I saw a fruit tree. I couldn't tell what
kind it was from where I was standing, but I thought it might've been a
flying dragon (big bushy growth and what looked like small oranges), or
a poorly pruned peach tree.I sneaked on over to check it out, and found instead a wildly overgrown plum
tree. The huge smile of excitement on my face was enough to convince
Charlie to go with me to ask the neighbors if we could have some. They
didn't even know they had a plum tree (apparent due to the number of
fruits rotting around the base of the tree) and told us to help
ourselves! Minutes later, I was collecting all of the ripe and nearly ripe, bug free plums I could find on the wild branches. Now the serious flavorful daydreams are flowing full force. Tasting one, with a thin, tart skin, and a honey-sweet pulp so juicy it spilled down my shirt. And I happily let it, wearing the juice like a badge of honor.
And that was when the internal buzzer went off, letting me know it's time to start canning. Time to start mulling over the potential of a free plum.
So yes, trusty reader, all of that rambling was to let you know there will be a shift with this column, as the weather changes the content shifts, but all in all I hope it'll be a slow, enjoyable ride. There'll be a little bit about petals and a little bit about pedals, with a heaping helping of homegrown produce along the way.
Since it's Friday, I leave you with a question: This weekend, what will you do to make the days last a little longer?
Renee Garner has a passion to make things grow, although her brownish
thumb wants her to believe otherwise. When mud pies aren't on the
menu, you can find her doodling the days away at Wolfie and the Sneak.
Well, with some relief and some sadness, today is the day- the last day that the Modish: Handmade Goods shoppe will be open. It was a most fantastic run, lots of fun was had and I will miss much about it dearly, but I know it was the right choice for me to say goodbye and move on to some of my lifelong aspirations. So, this is officially your last chance to shop, the last day to grab a hold of any of the goodies you've been thinkin' about, the last day for the Modish shoppe, for. like. EVER! :)
Renee Garner has a passion to make things grow, although her brownish
thumb wants her to believe otherwise. When mud pies aren't on the
menu, you can find her doodling the days away at 
