mushroom madness

The sun came out today and I went outside to take a few pictures of the amazing mushroom madness happening out in our front yard.









Eva and I talked a little about who might be eating the mushrooms. We decided it could be squirrels and/ or slugs. Then we found this little guy munching on one of the larger red mushrooms. Clearly slugs have an appetite for mushrooms!

Dinner tonight

was ground mild Italian chicken sausage with a few potatoes from this week's CSA basket and sauteed greens (from last weeks basket)- what looked a bit like collards, but smaller than you usually see them. Plus apple crisp with three different local apples- Pink Ladies, Gala and Braeburn. I really must get to the farmers market this week for more apples because as local and seasonal as the ones I bought from New Seasons were, they were nothing like the ones we bought a few weeks ago at the market. I missed the apple upick this year and am definitely feeling it now. Still, three kinds of apples will make a very good crisp. Plus- and here's the best part, in my opinion- this amazing salad with cabbage, mesclun mix, arugula and carrots, all fresh from my own garden tonight! I added pomegranate and slivered almonds, our first pomegranates of the season. We have all been nibbling on those and the first satsumas of the year all evening with visions of pomegranate granita dancing in our heads. I had all but forgotten about satsumas (how does that even happen?) until a woman at the grocery had some in line ahead of me and I rushed back to pick out a few of my own. It is still a little early so they are on the expensive side, but so worth it for the boost in spirit alone. {Not to mention the taste.} {Not to mention how excited Eva is.}

The day started out slow as they have been of late and I bought two blues buster light bulbs at the store this afternoon AND took a walk in the middle of the day in the sunshine AND went out to the garden to find vegetables for a fresh salad. All of this contributes to a better mind-set. The salad was the icing on the cake, to make it stick a little longer. Plus, I found a few baby sunflowers just now blooming on thick stems bending down toward the ground and still so many flowers outside for November. My Wisconsin-trained-mind never can remember how warm it stays here for so long.



Carrots planted a few months ago picked tonight. Petunias still blooming...



Baby sunflowers blooming, several on an already bent stalk. Salad!

Look closely

Seeds in the garden-





Four sunflower shots



and one cardoon.

Fall

And now it's most definitely fall. For this brief bit of time, the season is balanced. Fully itself. Caught between where it has come from and where it will eventually go. Everywhere I look there is evidence of fall. Where better to notice these changes than in the food that surrounds us. Apples on the counter. Banana bread. Cauliflower cheese soup. Each vegetable in this week's produce basket was filled with fall. No more lingering tomatoes. It's all cauliflower and fennel. Cabbage, not salad mix. Celery root has made it's second appearance. Fall.

The leaves have changed. Many have fallen. Bare trees, those first to turn last month, share space with other trees only now just changing their colors. Some of the neighbors have been raking for a few weeks now. I'm lucky that our oak tree is comparatively late to drop its leaves. We will have red leaves in our front yard for the next few weeks. Yellow leaves from our maple blanket the backyard lawn. My plans to mow one last time gone now that the rain has begun in earnest. Fall.

And it's looking for indoor spaces. Indoor time. Sunshine but mostly rain. Crisp leaves underfoot. It's carrying hats and gloves wherever we go. It's boots. It's darkness beginning each day earlier than the day before. I breathe deeply the crisp, cool air. I let it sink into me. For this moment, just for this moment. It is simply fall. Fall.

poncho love

OK- turns out I love the poncho. I am actually wearing it right now. We have been having lovely fall weather complete with sunshine and warm winds. I took my sweater off today and put on a short sleeve shirt. The poncho with that out on the patio is just the thing.

Today I was going to write about this migraine that I had yesterday, all last night and half the day today. I am actually still recovering from it and have to take it easy and go to bed early lest it get reved up again and return, as migraines in the past have been known to do. This morning I had an amazing time out on the patio with the sunshine and fall leaves and migraine. The wind was blowing and the trees were dancing. This type of high pressure, warm wind weather, while lovely, also reminds me of migraines, probably because it seems to be a trigger for me for migraines, at least some part of it. I'm not sure if it's the dry wind or the sudden increase in pressure or both, since the warm winds don't seem to exist without the increase in pressure, at least not around here.

For the geese, though, this weather seemed to be all about flight practice. While I sat on the patio eating potatoes and drinking coffee, enjoying the fresh air after a sleepless night, the geese flew over our house and back to the park several times. Each time I would first hear the build up a few blocks away. Then I would see a few of the first geese to take off, just behind the trees a few houses over. Then a rush of dozens- perhaps 200 geese?- as they flew up and around the trees, past our house, over to the left and back to the park. What I love most about watching the geese stretch their wings is just how much they have to say to one another about flying, while flying. It felt to me at times like their energy, their sheer numbers, could pull the migraine up out of my head and release it into the air. Free. The migraine now free of the boundaries of my head, constricting it's movement to dull pounding, could pulse unbridled through the air with the geese. My head, now free of the migraine's insistent pounding, could bask in the silence. In the peace. I breathed a sigh of relief just thinking of it.

But now- even more than then, I am tired of the migraine's presence in my life. It should have gone away hours ago. It should never have come. And I don't wish to talk about it- much less write about it- any more.

So, there will be pictures of Eva's art project today. And a video of how it's done.

look closely

autumn dreaming

I woke up from a dream this morning. Well, more to the point- I woke up this morning from a dream when my cat Agnes came into the room meowing at me to wake up. In the dream it was autumn{already} and I was writing about it being autumn. There were red and orange leaves on the trees in the front and back yards and I took a few photos and compared them here, on this blog. One before, as in the transition to autumn, the Japanese Maple tree in my front yard with a few red leaves here and there. Can you believe there are red maple leaves in my front yard {even now}?

The other was a glorious photo of red and orange leaves in the backyard, which won't really happen, not now or later, because the Silver Maple in the back always has golden yellow leaves. Her leaves change much later than the Japanese Maple's (who I usually think of as a male, in case you wondered. The Pin Oak out front is also male.) And I love how in the dream I could be both then and now, looking at leaves that are changing now (in waking life) and seeing that as then (in my dream) and how I took both of the photos- both then and now- at the same time, moving only from the front yard to the back yard.

In the dream I posted the photos and then began writing a post with something like "Autumn is here!" The tone was one of finality and interest and enthusiasm, of course, all wrapped up into one. And I notice as I write this now, this writing is eclipsing the writing in the dream {that seemed so clear before}. And that is the way of it. The dream has done it's job of {waking me up}- inspiring me to wake up and write. Wake up and notice. See what is then and what is now. Think of that, all of it all at once and knowing what will come, but not quite, and making it up as we go along. And the sheer beauty of it. The dream got that right on as well. I felt as though I had never seen such beauty as in those red and orange leaves.

sitting outside during {one of} my favorite times of the day at {one of} my favorite times of the year. i've been taking note of the increasing number of signs that autumn is moving in. the transition of a transitional season- autumn takes us from summer to winter and is a season in it's own right, known to me as the season that takes beauty to a new level. i've written before (or at least thought it to myself!) that autumn makes beauty for the hell of it. sure, we know *why* the leaves have their many shades of reds, oranges, yellows... *why* they fall and blow tsk tsk tsk across the patio. not necessarily *why* everything seems to need sleep. rest makes more sense to our minds conditioned to make each moment count. be productive. get something practical done. or at least enjoy! ourselves, for goodness sake. and where does that leave us with sleep? with autumn?

even in warmer climates where autumn is less noticeable, there is still a changing of the flower guard. vegetables in season and out. sometimes. kale, not tomatoes. not all the time. here in the pacific northwest there is autumn- a much longer autumn than i knew growing up in wisconsin where autumn really *is* the transition to winter. a beautiful transition to a steadfast season who comes early and stays late. an uninvited guest who is nonetheless always expected.

it's this time of year that i start to wonder if the remaining tomatoes on the vine will ever be able to ripen with this left over sun. will the sunflowers not-yet-bloomed ever burst open for the bees? will there be bees left flying or will they only groggily stumble from flower to next-burst-open flower, taking one last sip of sweetness before the winds really begin to blow.

but of course. then i remember how long autumn stays. how there is plenty of time for ripening (tomato upicking hasn't even begun, i remind myself) and picking and canning and bursting and blooming. a whole pint of berries is still on the last blueberry bush! there are fall raspberries to be had and pears to be tasted. the transition to the transition, always a harvest friendly time with vegetables from then, finally ripening now.

so i sit in this. this time. and make plans for how quickly i will or will not rake the leaves this year and wonder if the neighbor will care, now that she isn't raking her own leaves. i plan canning days and dismiss other projects, wondering if the kids will need new hats and mittens and fingerless gloves. should i even make mittens? will i ever have the time? i think of framing the ones they won't wear again...

autumn brings a wistfulness, a closing down, a contented beauty. and at other times- a zing! zow! i drive down the street laughing and pointing excitedly- "would you look at that!" trees bursting now, blooming in reds, {no blues, no greens}, but golden! and oranges. of all shades. just because. a few pink flowers linger in the flower box out front, the pots in the back.

but not yet. that's later. right now the flowers bloom pink, purple, bright gold, yellow. the mint blooms peaking, with bees hovering, flying back and forth, mint, no- sunflowers!, no- cardoons! plenty for all while spiders grow in girth, getting fat on fly season, once again upon us. it keeps coming, again and again, each time like the last in flavor and quality of light. but distinct, as it always is, unique and singular in this moment. i love recognizing the signs of what is to come, what is now. in this recognition there is appreciation for this season, for the next, when i never can quite decide which i like best and realize i don't need to. each a beauty of its own, gliding slowly, then quickly, into the next.

slowly, then all at once

Sitting outside ready to meditate, I noticed the sun had shifted ever-so-slightly in the direction that signals the coming of autumn. The pagan holiday for this time of year is Lughnasadh (Lammas). It is a pre-harvest celebration, midway between the autumnal equinox and the summer solstice's longest day of the year. For me, it is signaled by this subtle change in light, particularly in the morning. There are peaches, blackberries, tomatoes (finally!) the beginning of melons, the end of my blueberries. The heat of summer can still be found some days even as the sun's intensity is diminished overhead.

I love holding these two seeming dichotomous states- the {sudden} shift of light and the knowledge that this process has been in effect each day. Every day. An imperceptible change in sunrise, sunset, until one day a noticeable difference. It reminds me of Hemingway's quote on how people go bankrupt, "Slowly, then all at once." And so much of life. Our children's transformations, learning new skills, new developments. How did I learn to knit? Slowly, slowly, over the course of many years. Then all at once. And suddenly I had a project I couldn't believe I had made.

Of course, the movement of the seasons hardly stays all-at-once {for long} and is by it's very definition, a continuation of slowly. The process constantly changing, shifting, moving in the direction of the circle. We notice the all-at-once on a particular day, label it fall, and watch as it shifts again toward winter, the uneasy nebulous nature of change given a static label. We switch our shoes. Coats. Activities. As the movement becomes imperceptible again. Until the next subtle shift of light becomes noticeable to our eyes. Our minds. Slowly. Then all at once {we notice}. Again.



Very hungry caterpillars. I don't know why I thought the slugs were eating these petunias. (A hazard when growing petunias to be sure. Everyone seems to want to eat them. They must taste as good to them as they smell to me.) Eva and I have been studying the three, four, then five! caterpillars living on this one petunia plant for a few days, noticing their different colors and how they sometimes stand up or lay down, depending. Somehow one of them (or a family member) ended up on the patio near the peaches and we duly placed him back on the petunia with the others. Perhaps later in fall when these guys have all turned into cocoons would be a safer time to grow petunias. The two I planted out by the sweetpeas have {so far} remained untouched. It is flower central out there with plenty to choose from, which probably has a lot to do with it. Or maybe purple petunias are particularly tasty.



The sweetpeas and chamomile are having a long season this year. I have been drying the chamomile as I remember and am thoroughly enjoying the strong fragrance of these particular plants. I love these multi-colored sweetpeas with the different shades of purple.



I let several of these plants stick around this year to see what they were. I love them with the sweetpeas and calendula. Their clusters of tiny flowers are a lovely shade of pink. Any ideas on what type of plant they are?

outside gorgeousness

We have had the most gorgeous weekend and I am happy to have spent at least some of it outside and a lot of it simply appreciating the gorgeousness of it all. Yesterday the kids and I went to the farmers market for the first time in a long while. It had cleared out quite a bit and wasn't as crowded as it had been. I had gotten a little burned out over the summer and part of the early fall because I had to pick up my second CSA basket from the market every Saturday and when that ended in October I went a little in the other direction and simply didn't go to the market for a few weeks. I love my CSA that is delivered and I think I will probably just stick with that one in the future. It's easy to not go to the market on the weeks when it is rainy and I know the kids aren't up for trudging through the wind and rain for extra greens, even if they are for guinea pigs. This Saturday, however, was warmish and sunny-ish and I had a wreath on my mind. We ended up with a wreath (ironically- if you believe in irony- it was from the same farm that my CSA was from) for us, some carrots for Albert and Terrence, and some kale to split between the piggies and me.

Today I spent some time out in the yard raking up some leaves.



There is nothing quite like finding a treasure trove of mushrooms underneath all those leaves. If I rake very very gently, they can stay until they are ready to leave.



Some of the mushrooms we uncovered today. And these were from a couple of weeks ago!



Eva took this one and the one of the white mushrooms above. Up and Down.

This year's stuffing-
sprouted grain bread
apples (Oregon)
shallots (CSA)
garlic (my garden)
celery (CSA)
thyme (my garden)
giblet broth

Also this year I am making pomegranate sorbet which is based on the pomegranate granita recipe from Chez Panisse Fruit. We love it! I am making extra because it is gone before I know it every time!

Juice of one pomegranate
1/4 cup sugar with 1/2 cup water, simmered until dissolved. Mix. Put in ice cream maker until done. You can make it into a granita by putting it into a bowl and putting it in the freezer and taking it out to break up the pieces every once in a while. Either way it is delish!

And the thankfuls? Last night I asked the kids to think of something they were thankful for. Samuel said, "I'm thankful for you guys. For making this such a great life." That about sums it up I thought.

And off the top of my head, here's what I am thankful for today- yarn and eva singing and guinea pigs, good food, plenty, now, love, friends, trees, rain, heat, pomegranates, satsumas, love, walks in the woods, upicking, berries, pie, chocolate, friends, love, joy, meditating, writing, feeling, being, alive, dreams, kale, pea shoots, reaching, growing...there's always more. The more I find to appreciate, the more there is. Cliche as it sounds these days, it is indeed true. Love and there is love. Trust and there is trust. Appreciate and there will be something to appreciate. Happy Thanksgiving!

raking leaves

I was outside raking leaves today. The kids joined me for a little while and we raked up a big pile for them to jump into. They wandered off and I was still enjoying the raking, so I kept raking out into the street. There is a leaf service that comes by to get the leave and they turn them into mulch. This, I believe, they do to keep the leaves from building up in the sewers, it being the rainy season and all. I won't tell the whole story of my neighbors giving me a hard time about raking the leaves "late" because I am enjoying being in a good mood and if I go over it too many times in my mind, well, my good mood will go wherever their good mood went.

The way I see it, raking leaves can be a really enjoyable way to spend a little time outside, if you are in the mood- but isn't that the way with most things? People are in such a hurry to get things cleaned up that they never wait to get in a good mood about doing the things in the first place. And then they go around scowling and complaining about things like raking leaves, when let's be honest here, no one needs to rake another leaf, ever. The best part of the whole scene with my neighbor was that I said, "Well, maybe it will rain!" because really what she is worried about it my leaves going into her yard (such devisiveness makes it hard to enjoy neighborly love, or neighbors, really.) And she agreed! "Yes! Maybe it will rain and they will get all clumped down!" She was so excited by this thought that she walked off smiling. Do you think I will ever be able to get her excited about rain again? [huge grin].

OK, onto the photos.



raking and jumping



Samuel and Eva



done!



Small parts- mushrooms, what the squirrels are after, box elder bug's forest



where they came from; flowers still blooming even as leaves cover them