Days of Zucchini and Roses

"What a lovely thing a rose is!"

Arthur Conan Doyle

Outside my window clouds cover the sun and a light breeze stirs the leaves and ripples through the garden. A couple of cooler days are here before the temperatures warm up to summer weather on the weekend. The first flush of rose blooms is over, but some, like Boscobel, are producing more beautiful blossoms the second time round. This soft pink colour is such a delight and the scent simply amazing. 

From my garden I pick a several slender, dark green zucchini two or three times a week. I spent a couple of mellow hours one morning making ratatouille. Each vegetable is sauteed separately, then combined at the end with fresh basil and a bit of lemon juice. We enjoyed it with a grating of Parmesan as part of our dinner. I froze three containers of it for a quick hit of summer when it's raining and cold outside in a few months. 

When we were in Wales four years ago, we enjoyed a delicious Courgette, Garlic and Stilton Soup in the tea room at Newton House. I found the recipe on the National Trust website and made it exactly as it reads for a simple tasty meal. I hope we'll be able to return to the UK one day. For now, I'm finding contentment in reading my travel journals and reliving some of the wonderful trips we've taken. I'm enjoying this quieter summer and have been spending more time in the garden. 

To serve alongside the soup I made a sourdough focaccia bread that turned out well. There is really nothing like fresh bread and soup for satisfying the tummy. 

"...it's a blessed thing to love, and to feel loved in return."

E. A. Buchhianeri

Who are these kids? They thought they were all grown up 43 years ago. I'm so thankful to God for my husband and for the life we've spent together. We're venturing out to a restaurant to celebrate this anniversary. 

Last year we celebrated in Leonding (Linz), Austria. How the world has changed for all of us since then. Still we live and love, and try to make the most of each day. 

The days pass, a mixture of the sublime and the mundane. Beauty exists in both. 

At Home in June

"It was June, and the world smelled of roses." 
Maud Hart Lovelace

June. The month beloved of poets, gardeners, students, and perhaps most of all, teachers. By the end of next week papers will be marked (on line), reports given (on line), graduation ceremonies finished (in a physically distanced manner), and summer holidays will begin. For many, this summer will look very different from others. Travel is limited. Summer camps are mostly cancelled. 

This week I was in a store queue behind a woman purchasing tents, sleeping bags and mats, and a variety of back yard activity equipment. "We can go anywhere," she said, "so we have to make being at home fun." Such a good plan. 

I love being at home. Even as restrictions ease I'm not going out much more than I have in the past months. 

June is strawberry season, sweet and juicy. I attempted a "Fraisier" last weekend and was half-pleased with the attempt. I'm planning another one for this weekend and know what to do to improve. The taste was wonderful; the appearance lacking. 

We invited four friends over to share an antipasto platter light supper (along with dessert) on the patio last weekend. It was so lovely to be together after four months.

"It is the month of June,
The month of leaves and roses,
When pleasant sights salute the eyes,
And pleasant scents the noses."
Nathaniel Parker Willis

I'm in awe of the roses this year. June has been a cool damp month and the roses have flourished. Bloom after fragrant bloom appear. I cut bouquets for the house and for friends. I look out the window and my mouth curves upwards at the beauty. 

Pots of herbs sit on my windowsill and countertops. Mint is lush and green and I pick handfuls of it to stuff into pitchers of water in the fridge. Rosemary, basil, dill, oregano, thyme, and parsley flourish. June is filled with fragrance. 

This morning, before sitting down at my computer to mark and report, I picked a small bowl of ripe raspberries and just a few blueberries. The season for both is just beginning. How luxurious it is to wander outside and pluck delicious berries. 

The sun is shining today and a little breeze ruffles the leaves outside my window beckoning me to leave the house. So I shall. 

What delights your heart these June days?

Five on a Rainy Friday: Roses and Rhubarb

Mid-June. Outside my window the raindrops fall. I'm wearing jeans, a t-shirt, a light sweater, and socks. The socks are a nod to the weather, normally I go barefoot from May to September. I can hear the faint chirp of birds outside, along with the tumble of the dryer inside. 

The above photo is of Boscobel, on a non-rainy day. She's giving me great delight.

I stepped out into the garden for a few minutes for some mint, and went back for my camera. Gertrude Jekyll, and Secret, below, are blooming in the rain. 

My reading is not very exciting. I don't have the mental energy just now for anything challenging or very exciting. I'm re-reading Coming Home by Rosamunde Pilcher, and found her words about the beginning of the Second World War applicable just now -

"Afterwards, in retrospect, Judith was always to remember the war as being a lot like a long journey in an aeroplane...hours of boredom interspersed with flashes of pure terror."

I don't know about the terror aspect, but I fear this Covid-19 will be a long journey that is often boring and uncomfortable. And I say this from an Island deemed free of the virus. Restrictions still apply. 

Our border with our friends to the south, where many of my readers live, is closed. We are becoming quite appalled by the way a few people think that the border doesn't really exist. We've heard about boaters coming up to explore our waters as they always do during the summer. We welcome them, but I'd just like to tell everyone to stay away for now. Washington State has many, many more cases than BC - with more new ones every day. 

It's almost lunchtime here. I'm going to have some cucumbers, red peppers, and cottage cheese with pickled onions, sunflower seeds, and a drizzle of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Followed by a square of dark chocolate for dessert. And probably another mug of steaming tea since it's a chilly day.

Being out in my garden fills me with deep content. We're enjoying fresh strawberries, not many, but enough, and last night I picked the first small bowlful of red raspberries, the perfect mix of tart and sweet. We enjoyed them with our breakfast this morning. The feverfew lightens up the dark corners of the garden. I let it grow to fill in spots, and it's easy enough to yank out where it's not wanted. The peonies, as you can spot, are bedraggled in the rain and dropping their petals like mad. 

 

In the kitchen I've been making rhubarb syrup for a thirst-quenching drink should the weather decide to warm up. The big jar is in the fridge, but the smaller ones are sealed and headed for the basement storage shelves. 

When we were in Europe last summer it was hot, hot, hot. I normally drink only water, but the cold "lemonades" they served were wonderful - not too sweet as we often make drinks in North America, but refreshing and tart. I'm attempting to make my own concentrates this year, with seasonal fruits. I think blackberries and raspberries will be delicious. 

There are lots of recipes on the internet if you do a search. I adapted a Rhubarb Syrup one to be heavier on the rhubarb and lighter on the sugar. 

There is a glimmer of light across the sky just now, behind the clouds. A good reminder that Light is always present, even on the darkest days. 

Weekend plans include some gardening, some housecleaning, a bit of baking, and getting together with friends on Sunday. How about you? Any plans? Are restrictions easing in your area? Happy Weekend, my friends.

These September Days

Today, Wednesday, was the first full day of classes.Yesterday was a soft start for new students only. And so begins another school year. 

On Monday evening we took a walk at Island View Beach. Light fades earlier and earlier. 

As twilight falls, shadows cast strong contrasts on sculptural driftwood. We walk in the sand where none of the sun's warmth remains. Gulls drift quietly on the water as if sensing the close of summer. 

In the garden, tomatoes ripen. Tomatoes, zucchini, and green beans play starring roles in dinners throughout the week. For a simple Sunday supper I roasted tomatoes - a mixture of plum, cherry, grape, and regular varieties with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and lots of fresh garlic cloves. When the tomatoes began to caramelize just a bit, I sprinkle feta cheese and capers over, then baked it for a few more minutes, and finally tossed fresh basil over it all. Spooned onto crusty bread or whole wheat toast, it made a fine meal. 

I tried something different for a recent breakfast. Sauteed mushrooms and chopped asparagus, plus crumbled fried bacon, and a scattering of grated Cheddar cheese on the bottom of the baking dish, topped with 8 eggs mixed with 1/2 cup sour cream and 1/2 cup milk, seasoned to taste, fresh herbs - chives and parsley, topped with sliced tomatoes and baked until set. Delicious, and the leftovers are great! 

What I'm currently reading. I finished Once Upon a River in short order and have been perusing the two cookbooks with leisure. Literary Paris is a book to enjoy slowly; it's full of quotes and photos of that lovely city. Louise Penny's latest I'm going to save for this coming weekend, for I know that once I begin, I won't want to stop. 

Summer still lingers in my garden. I picked a lovely bouquet of roses - Bolero, Winchester Cathedral, John Cabot, and an unknown variety, and arranged them in a marble vase that once belonged to my mother-in-law. It's sitting on the fireplace hearth and petals are dropping, a lovely litter of pink and white.

Days are summer, early morning and nights are autumn. A sweater to begin and end the day, a light dress suffices in the middle. Golden light through darkly silhouetted trees. Change is in the air.

May Days at Home

"May and June. Soft syllables, gentle names for the two best months in the garden year: cool misty mornings gently burned away with a warming spring sun, followed by breezy afternoons and chilly nights." Peter Loewer

9 pm. Light lingers long. This evening, for the first time, I walked without a light sweater or jacket. It feels like summer. Beautiful days. Yesterday, Tim and I walked to the top of Christmas Hill. Butterflies flitted here and there, lots of them, chasing each other among the grasses and trees, alighting on the ground from time to time. Painted Ladies, gorgeously designed. 

Radishes are ready in the garden these days. And strawberries. I like the long French Breakfast radishes. They've become part of salads, dipped in melted cheese, and eaten plain. I like them sliced on buttered bread, too, with a bit of salt.

In my mind, a bit of pickle elevates a salad or a sandwich. On Saturday I did a quick pickle with red onions and another with radishes. Ready the next day for whatever takes my fancy. 

The jar holding the radishes is old - my mother used it for canning when I was a child. It has a glass lid and she used to buy rubber rings for sealing. I don't know if rubber rings like that are available any longer. The old zinc screw top still works like a charm. 

Lilacs and bluebells have given way to peonies, ruffled beauties with a delicate, sweet fragrance. There are plenty to come in the garden, and a bouquet of them is opening in the house. 

I found a spot for a new rosebush - a David Austin Gertrude Jekyll. Each evening I observe how the buds are forming and will soon open with the lovely warmth we're experiencing. 

The blueberry bushes are loaded with fruit. I'm amazed at how quickly the plants go from bare sticks to fruit. Spring and summer are so urgent in the garden after the long dormancy of autumn and winter. 

A couple of years ago a yellow poppy appeared unbidden in a corner of my garden. I let it linger and it rewards me with a spot of brightness in what is otherwise a bit bare at this time of year. A lovely bit of serendipity.

Two new little items for my kitchen - a Garlic Store by Mason Cash. It has air vents and a lid with a little hole in it for lifting. The copper oil dispenser is perfect for drizzling olive oil on vegetables for roasting, or salads. I like the shape of both items. William Morris' advice to "have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful" is something I like to adhere to.

Finally, one last rose - this a John Cabot climbing rose that really climbs. I cut it way back each year and each year it rewards me with bloom after bloom. This is the first. 

I leave you with these words by Mary Berry: "Without doubt, without hesitation, I choose gardening over the gym. I can't stand going to the gym. It doesn't appeal to me at all. Give me gardening every time." Ha! Me, too. I tried a gym once, but gave it up after not very many visits. 

Now in the Garden: Mosaic Monday

It's always a bit of a thrill when the garden begins producing. One evening this week I thought I'd go out with a small bowl and see how many ripe strawberries there might be. I ended up returning to the kitchen for a bigger bowl and filling it to the brim. Sweet and juicy strawberries are a great way to kick off almost-summer.

Then I pulled up a bunch of radishes. I got mine in late this year; usually they are the first thing to harvest. 

To go along with dinner last night I paired the radishes with cucumber, fresh snipped chives, and a simple dressing with olive oil, white wine vinegar, salt and pepper. Crisp and delicious. Bring on summer food!

My potting bench needed a serious tidying up, so that was done this weekend. I cleaned up the paperwhites from Christmas (still in their glass containers), scrubbed pots, threw away old plastic pots, and swept off the bench. It looks much better now and is actually usable for potting, not just for throwing things onto. 

The stars of the garden just now are the roses and peonies. I'm torn between clipping them for the house and leaving them in the garden. Fortunately, there are enough to satisfy both places. 

I've been talking to the roses and peonies out in the garden, complimenting them on their showiness. I do it quietly as I wouldn't want the neighbours to think me entirely batty. 

A day or two ago, I heard my neighbour talking: "Good morning, Mrs. Robin," she said, "I can hear you singing your pretty song." 

Instantly, I felt better. Do you talk to your garden or the wildlife that happens by? 

Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Maggie of Normandy Life. 

A January Walk

Last Sunday the clouds scattered, skies lifted, and the desire for a long walk led us to the Selkirk and Songhees walkways. From Victoria's protected harbour, a winding waterway, The Gorge, meanders inland. Along its shores residential and industrial buildings mix in relative harmony. 

Several bridges cross The Gorge Waterway, including our infamous Blue Bridge, soon to be replaced by another. Construction has been long and fraught with delays of one sort or another, but in a few months, the iconic bridge above will be replaced by a sleeker, modern version. 

Roses in January? How can that be? These were blooming in the shelter of shrubs. Such pretty blossoms for winter. 

We saw many birds along the way, including Mr. Old Grumpy, aka Great Blue Heron. 

Others had the same desire for fresh air and when a woman coming from the other direction cried out, "oh look," I looked. From a stone wall above the walkway, a clump of snowdrops looked down on passersby. 

Cloud-streaked skies and delicate colours let us know that it was time to head back to the car, an hour away. 

Since Sunday, more rain has fallen, but have you noticed the days are noticeably longer? 

Just Before Thanksgiving

Sometimes, weeks don't turn out as planned. Each year, on the two school days before Canadian Thanksgiving, our school gives the students time off while the teachers go to a conference. It's a great time of learning (for the teachers) and having fun together. 

On Monday night, I came down with a sore throat that turned into a cold. So, no conference for me. I stayed home. By Friday I was feeling much better and rather wished I had gone. My colleagues were happy for me to NOT share my germs, however. 

I rescued some flowers from the garden from an impending rain and windstorm. Those white roses, Winchester Cathedral, have wicked thorns and I plunked them down onto the table without much fuss. 

I gingerly separated this one bloom from the bunch and posed it for its portrait. Such a pretty, fragrant flower. 

This basket of tomatoes and squash were also rescued. We've been eating the little Millionaire tomatoes like candy, for they are so sweet. The bigger tomatoes were cut in half, sprinkled with chopped onion, fresh thyme and oregano, drizzled with olive oil, and roasted until the house smelled like an Italian restaurant, redolent with flavour. 

Our Vancouver kids arrived last night for the holiday weekend, and I made the effort to prepare a special breakfast. A fresh corn tortilla, lightly crisped, topped with sauteed onions and sweet peppers, topped with guacamole, one of those luscious roasted tomatoes, and a fried egg. A few sprinkles of Cheddar cheese finished it all off. Very filling and very delicious (patting myself on the back just a little).  

On the mantel a cheery vase of hydrangeas and sunflowers seem apropos to the season. 

Dinner preparations are what's happening around here today - turkey, savoury stuffing, crumb-topped sweet potatoes, and more. We'll gather tomorrow with our children and grandchildren. Truly, we have much to be thankful for. 

Rambling on a Friday

I visited Butterfly World with my daughter and granddaughter last week. I caught Shadow, the blue macaw, trying to nap, his head resting on one branch, his body suspended, and his feet and tail resting on another branch. As he relaxed, I watched his feathers slowly fold together, dropping one at a time before his eyes closed. Every so often he would jerk, as one does in such an uncomfortable sleeping position. I wanted to go straighten him out and tuck him in properly.

He didn't seem to mind the discomfort and woke up looking quite perky. "Ah, that's better," he says, standing once again on his perch.

In my kitchen a modest (some call it more than modest) collection of cookbooks collected over the years sits on shelves. Lately, I've been perusing some of the older ones. I find it interesting the way food trends come and go. What drives food trends? I know that we eat differently than we used to. I make fewer casseroles and less starchy foods. This week I made lasagna for the first time in several years, and very delicious it was. 

We had company last weekend and I wanted something simple for dessert. In the 70s and 80s a group of Canadian Women published a series of cookbooks whose titles are based on the game of bridge. The Best of Bridge is the first one and others that followed included Grand Slam, That's Trump and other bridge-related names. I've used many recipes from these books over the years. 

For Saturday dinner I made a Sensational Lemon Roll - a sponge cake filled with a tart lemon and whipped cream filling. Our strawberry plants are loaded with berries and so I decorated the top with a few, along with some sprigs of mint. Our guests enjoyed it, and then we enjoyed the leftovers during the week. 

I wish you could see the roses in my garden. They began blooming in earnest. Winchester Cathedral, above, is fragrantly ruffled. See the white spider making herself at home there? I flicked away part of her dinner - a fly she'd caught and brought home. 

It tickles my fancy to think that some distant relative of this rose also blooms in the Queen's Rose Garden at Sudeley Castle near Winchcombe where we spent some time last summer. 

More of Winchester Cathedral getting ready to bloom. 

I've been reading the Rhys Bowen Royal Spyness mysteries. I've read most of them now, but out of order, and I hadn't read the first one. That's my current book. They are light and full of fun details about life in England during the 1930s.

I immortalized this unwelcome, but bright and valiant, buttercup with a photo before yanking it out. We have several neighbours who do not care for their gardens very well and as a result, buttercups are rampant. I dig them out when I see them, but this one bloomed up against the fence, so I'm giving it its time to shine.

With all the turmoil in the world, St. Paul's words keep coming to mind. These days, I'm thinking about delightful things like pretty pink poppies, fragrant roses, the scent of freshly cut grass, cool air rushing over my face through the wide open window at night, blue and white china, how my grandchildren make me laugh, and a host of other lovely things. 

How are you handling the doom and gloom of the world these days? What's delightful in your world?