WHAT’S FOR LUNCH? MY JOB

To continue my last report on Phoenix, here are a couple of photos. This first is a look at the machine Ian and James applied to the lawn area on either side of the driveway:

And here is a view of what this machine accomplished:

As you can see in the first image, the “lawn” isn’t in good shape at all. So no big loss. However, the objective was to disturb only the surface, not the underlying soil, and, second image is the result. Tomorrow, the men will be back to “grade micro-basins in the area for natural water catchment, followed by the addition of mulch and compost.” Planting of native shrubbery and grasses will come later, in the fall. We’ll have to wait to see what that will look like, but in my imagination, maybe an English country garden with rock work, butterflies and honey bees at work?

A perfect transition to our last few days in which Larry and I planned to spend time at the family vacation house in Black Butte. Peter and Andrew are there in advance of the P.Viehl’s annual visit to celebrate Andrew’s birthday on 8/10. On our way across the mountains, we were suddenly battered by a miles-long great swarm of apparently-migrating Monarch butterflies. A kaleidoscope of butterflies. I looked it up. Yes, “kaleidoscope” is the collective noun. Lovely!

Well, not so lovely on the windshield and grate of the car, and the realization that we were killing so many of mother nature’s most artistic creations by interrupting their destined flight. But a few days hitting golf balls, sharing stories, watching Andrew bake pizzas for dinner, and a turn on the putting course was tonic. Missed Allison, who was working in New York, but we hope to catch up with her soon.

Recently I heard or saw a comment on my blogging to the effect that life here was apparently led mostly by Larry. What have I been doing in support of the big habitat-restoration effort? I believe I did mention a few posts ago that labor here had been bifurcated, and that Larry did, indeed, apparently do most the work. True. But?

Work inside is still work, isn’t it? So here’s what I’ve been doing:

Yes. Pickle season. These are dills, first batch. I bought a 10 pound bad of “medium” cukes, which would have been more accurately described as “huge.” And, as you may know if you try to “can” anything, those 1 1/2 pint jars are so rare that people actually collect them. But quarts are clumsy in the refrigerator, and pints don’t quite do the job. So I scrounged the shed and pantry for the few desirable-sized jars and moved on. Larry had the bright idea of creating one jar of already sliced dills (forgot this wasn’t supposed to be about Larry, but he did help). I have a shipment of the 1 1/2s coming Thursday, so will buy another 10 pounds, this time of “small,” cukes and make another batch. Following last year’s success of skipping the boiling-water bath finish, producing more crunchy pickles, I was very relieved when they all sealed anyway, and are good to go into the pantry. (Vik — let me know if you want some)

Here’s another image of what I do around here:

Last night’s dinner, featuring the red cabbage grown in you-know-who’s garden. No, the corn isn’t local, nor, of course, is the chicken, which has capers there in the dressing. But there’s another red cabbage, the size of a basketball, in the back refrig, and I’m on the hunt for good recipes. Requiring less than 2 hours to complete. This was a slaw with red onions, Italian spices,(strangely), and oil/vinegar dressing. Sat and cooled for a couple of hours, and was pretty good.

This next photo is just meant to represent the work I do — I actually shot it because I thought it would make an interesting water-color painting. Or maybe charcoal drawing? Gordon?

Anyway, laundry. You know the story of the sorcerer’s apprentice? It’s the way I do feel when I’ve folded and put away one basket of laundry only to find another basket-full waiting in the closet. Farm work is inherently dirty! You can’t look at a shirt and think oh well, maybe another day . . . Mostly I don’t hang it on the line, just usually the jeans, so don’t go feeling too sorry for me.

One more job of mine, most important, actually, is to identify things-to-be-done around here. Can’t say Larry always appreciates my talent on this score, but here’s an example: An azalea growing in front of the house had died, needed to be dug up and replaced. I, of course, realized that it was dead because it was totally brown. Duh. Got a spade and was attempting to dig it up when Larry noticed and asked what I was doing. See, brown? And, as some of you know, my color-blind husband can’t see the difference. And a good thing it was that he came along, because the spade would have sliced into the watering system surrounding the planting. A pitch-fork was the better tool. Maybe not a pitch fork, but a pitch-fork shaped spade with tines. What’s that called?

It’s almost noon, and I’ve been wanting to hike down to the wetland to see what’s been happening in the oak copse this past week. The crew had been back to take out more blackberry, but also importantly, identify which trees shall be taken when the great thinning project is underway. This will be a coordinated project between Phoenix and another company, Advanced Land Management. They anticipate removing some 300 trees per acre, leaving 250 standing. The area is approximately 7 acres, so, doing the math, that is one hell of a lot of trees to come down. We’re talking about oak trees, here, to be clear.

What’s supposed to happen to all that wood? It will be saved for firewood, chipped, burned for char, with the remaining slash burned on site. The on-site burning is supposed to last no more than a day. Let’s hope, for the temperament of the neighbors!

This will leave corridors through the woods, and we’re asked to describe how we’d like this to look. Winding paths between stands? I can’t get my head around the magnitude of some 2100 trees coming down, much less what it will look like without them. The point is that oak trees need to develop a broad canopy, which they can’t do when this crowded. So, Mom Nature? What would you do here? Ice storms? High winds? I’m sure Phoenix will be able to tell me, if I think to ask them, but one way or another, the trees would come down.

What’s for lunch? My job, remember? Dinner this evening will be pork and sauerkraut, which we both love. The pork will be from an unwise collection of pork chops acquired from Costco which have proved to be relentlessly tough despite time in the oven or Instant Pot. I tried to make something work by thawing and grinding two of the chops to create sausage, but that was a lot of difficult, and ultimately unsatisfying, work. Pretty sure sauerkraut will be the answer.

Before I head to the kitchen, two books I’ve been reading:

Electric Universe, on loan from Marjorie, which feels like a quick, deep course in engineering, but fascinating to the point where I stay up late reading it, and The Dawn of Everything. This one on loan from Tim Crosby, banjo teacher, is equally fascinating, but I have to ration myself to try to absorb what I’m reading. Wait. Not to say that I can easily get the subject matter in Marjorie’s book either, but don’t let my challenges prevent you from looking up either one. Did I not go to college? Why don’t I know this stuff? Never too late, right?

Having trouble thinking of a title for this post. No apparent underlying theme. Guess you’ll see if I find something.