August and Blueberries

I wish, wish, wish I could share these beautiful blueys from my garden, but they aren't mine to share. They're from a great page on growing them in containers. 

I planted four plants this year. Some early bloomers, some later and some late. All with plenty of acid soil amendment and food and so far, my sweet little bushes have not looked like those above. I'll chalk it up to a cool summer (our Catalina Eddy has hung out long past June gloom season has lasted into August) and a lack of bees. I miss my little garden friends and I'm as terrified as the next person wondering what's next. We had a horrid attack of wasps early in spring and had a couple of areas sprayed. The company promised bees don't live in the same places as wasps and, well, blah, blah, blah. I fear we may have contributed to the problem in hind sight.

On a nicer note, the 10 or so blueberries we have farmed have been delicious. I'm thinking of pulling them up into containers over winter. Really forcing the acid soil and hoping for a less bleak harvest next summer.

So how about you? How does your garden grow.

Joy at Christmas:: the pomegranate

I do love the sweet and tart beads of fruit peeking out of the beautiful pomegranate.

Perfect in a kale salad.

Perfect on the plate.

And a long-standing family tradition. I can recall purple fingers for days when I was a kid.

My 85 year old mom loves this new technique and seeds every one from her tree. Then she shares them with her pastor! Mom, bring them by!

November 29 - Giving Thanks:: the Kale Rose

And, as a garden lover, I will say, I'm always grateful for the plant someone else started. I will love these well as an addition to my front garden, welcoming friends; and to the life of my just-started Potager garden. (Can you hear the delight?)

Giving Thanks - November 16:: Brita for Inspiration

In the next town there's a beautiful garden store -- Brita's Old Town Gardens.

It's the store that inspires me to go beyond and seek new plantings and to love a mish mash of colors and always add this and that. (As long as they get the right sun and the right kind of soil.)

I doubt that Brita, a beautiful tall woman with joy exuding as she strolls the garden looking for just what you need, would remember our first meeting. I do. We'd moved into our first home. I knew a bit about gardening, but knew I wanted to know more. And there I was with a flower bed right in front of my living room window. All shade. I was determined to have flowers.

Brita helped find to helitropes and bleeding hearts.

I went to visit her this morning with a couple of tasks. First we had to pick a rose for a climbing wall, then, part shade flowers for beds to live with rooty birches. But the most fun was when I mentioned the Potager garden.

I have a very eclectic garden on the way there now, roses and strawberries and lavender.  But I'm ready to dive in with sweet peas and lettuces and cabbage, and, and, and. Her eyes lit up as we gathered from her stock and toured the lanes of her store grabbing the thymes, and mint and pansies and chard. She heard my love for the white rose next to the lavender, but not just for the color, for the uses and fragrances. She's the gardening friend, but really, the shopkeeper with zest and knowledge for what the garden can be.

I'm enthused about the next steps.

The best inspiration in film is Meryl Streep's potager in It's Complicated. Mine isn't quite this big and won't have the perfect rows, oh, and I don't look like Meryl Streep, nor am I married to Alec Baldwin - but you can believe the colors and joy of the mixture will be there. I love, love, love the tomatoes working up the frameworks. Tomatoes will have to wait while Sweet Peas meander up in mean time.

So, here's my Thanksgiving today: to Brita whose sea blue eyes sparkle and whose ideas breathe breeze into my project. And for the stylist who designed Ms. Streep's garden. To Alec Baldwin for standing there. And for my own Dear Husband, who keeps saying, "I'm glad your doing just what you want there, Dear."

I'm inspired and so grateful for the ones who join in.

Ahh, the Bergamot

Like many, many people my only understanding of the Bergamot was some essential oil memory. An oil sold with the likes of Patchouili oil. It had something to do either with hippies or massage therapists.

Thankfully, life provides experiences (and a  foraging neighbor) so my understanding has been refined.

Stick with me here.

In the early 2000s, a lovely gardening man I worked with, used to bring small vases of Freesia into my office in winter. At first I just thought they were beautiful. Over time, I realized that they were beautiful and fragrant and drove me to want a cup of tea. And, as my unintentional explorations led, I found my desire fulfilled in Earl Grey. I've become quite an Earl Grey connoisseur, I enjoy the subtler, not to perfumey types and I like the hint of Bergamot. (See how we came full circle - wait there's more).

I was content with my tea and freesia experiences. Then this summer my friend, the foraging friend, introduced me to a beautiful line of pure and delicious olive oils. They are tres special. The way the olives are harvested and crushed makes for a very complete flavor. Garlic is crushed with the olives (for the garlic olive oil) rather than garlic oils being added to the olive oil. No infusion. Full on flavor marriage. You can learn about the oils here. I'm never going back!

In the end, the flavors hold up in cooking or preparations really well and that pleases me.

One day, I was looking at the Bergamot label and was truly surprised to learn that Bergamot isn't extracted from actual hippies, but from the Bergamot, a citrus fruit grown in Calabria, Italy or perhaps France.

Finally, yesterday, Mary handed me an actual Bergamot from one from her travels. Yes, it looks like a lemon and your knowledge of citrus has probably made your mouth water as if to smell or taste the sour. But the fragrance is intense and beautiful and clean and freesia like.

I have to cut into it and taste it. It's said to be more bitter than the grapefruit, which seems impossible with its beautiful scent. I plan, however to wait. I want to leave it on the counter in my kitchen and breath in all the aroma this beauty has to offer.

Apples in the country.

It started here in Colonial Chesterfield - Riley's Farm in Oak Glen, CA. It is one of the most beautiful places in the state.



While you may drive up in a four wheeled wonder, you move into the 1700s when you cross into the farm. We've enjoyed much fun here in the past, including a Revolutionary War re-enactment, but that is not this story.

On this day we started with lunch at the Hawk's Head pub including music of the Colonies whilst being served by costumed maidens with British accents.

Then we headed off for our mission: picking apples.

Shenanigans and hi jinx ensued.

And yet, we found the mother load.

And then some.

And apples, beautiful, crisp, fresh and yummy,  came home.
The pumpkins are Part 2.

Yesterday and tomorrow

Yesterday we went apple and pumpkin picking at Riley's Farm.
Tomorrow you'll see pictures.