Garden musings...

I've been trying to get my garden compiled on paper, or at least in my head! Although I've saved seeds, I still have some varieties of flowers and vegetables. I also want to concentrate on drying and blending a wonderful and lovely-to-look at tea this year! I usually dry scads of various mints and combine them all together for winter use, as well as Wild Raspberry and Blackberry leaves, Lemon Balm, Bee Balm, Nettles and Dandelion. But I'd like to create a blend that's a little more elaborate for gift-giving too. I've been wracking my brain and revisiting herb books I haven't touched in a long time, and I created this chart above as a quick visual reference to help me along the way. (I need all the help I can get sometimes!)
I know it's not a complete compilation, but it's a starting point to remember to harvest and dry the many herbs and flowers that I do grow, and concoct a pleasing and tasty blend. I am not partial to strong-tasting herbal blends or spices in my tea, so I will go lightly on the more pungent flavors.
Have you any particular favorites when it comes to growing and blending your tea herbs? Is there a particular herb I've left out of a category that you simply must include in your blend?

As I was browsing the web this past week, I stumbled upon this link from Garden Betty on making your own seed tape. (i'm sorry, you'll have to copy and paste; it won't link) I'm curious to know if this is feasible, as I have never tried seed  tape before. Perhaps I'll at least give it a try... it just may cut down on the transplanting or thinning.

http://www.gardenbetty.com/2012/03/make-your-own-seed-tape

I am keeping cabin fever at bay fairly well and trying to be patient with winter. We got the sugar maples tapped yesterday, and I'm waiting on the sap flow to commence in the next few weeks. We had a few inches of snow last night, and may get another storm this weekend. The chickens, ducks, guineas and geese are probably suffering from cabin fever more than I am, as it has been bitter cold with the winds we've had, so I've kept them in the coop more than in other years. Word has it that there is either a mountain lion or a bobcat out back. It's tracks have been spotted throughout the woods, so it is best that the poultry are in anyhow.

I am hoping all is well in your corner of the world. I leave you with these few lines...

Reverie

A warm and cheery fire roars merrily
And shadows dance about the darkened room. 
Beside the hearth a gardener sits and dreams
Of sunny days, of flowers in full bloom. 
Some hollyhocks should tower near the fence,
Bright red. ones that the bees can't help but find.
The trellis at the gate again must wear 
Blue morning glories, or the rosy kind. 
To lend a bit of distance to the scene,
Close to the rear I'll plant in shades of blue
The tall and stately larkspur, double ones­
Of course I'll put in scabiosa, too.
I couldn't do without a pansy bed­
Snapdragons make such beautiful bouquets­
Frilled zinnias and yellow marigolds 
Add just the proper touch to autumn days. 
The flowers grow and bloom with loveliness 
Until a sound destroys the fantasy­
A burning ember falls and I must leave 
My garden and my charming reverie. 
-HELEN BATH SWANSON

For the birds

It is ironic that wintertime languishes and tempts me with hours to be filled, so unlike the other three seasons when the only other things you do with your free time are eat and sleep...

Poultry do not require much time in winter... a drink of warm water laced with apple cider vinegar and molasses and all the trimmings from soups and salads, mounds of warm hay and some cracked corn, and an airing out when the weather is feasible and a snug home is about all they ask this time of year. They don't venture far in cold weather; thus there is no chasing down a flock of errant guinea fowl at 9 pm to make sure they're all safely in the barn for the evening. Predators are less apt to be a bother now, as they too are snugged away except at dinnertime, and the snow gives evidence if they come close.

I certainly do appreciate the calmer pace... I've managed to read a book or two, which is unheard of during the growing season, and I just adore my time spent frivolously tending to Pinterest (ahemmmm..) I can find time now to create a bit more, and that is a luxury in and of itself. I hope you can make time too! I've posted a few bird-related images you may be able to use... they are copyright free from my always-growing collection. These particular ones were compiled by Nancy Rosin in the Memories of a Lifetime series. Enjoy!

Winter, a lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments,
embark upon a sentimental journey, and enjoy every idle hour.

John Boswell

Surely as cometh the Winter, I know
There are Spring violets under the snow.
-  R. H. Newell

February is merely as long as is needed to pass the time until March.

-  Dr. J. R. Stockton

When the snow is still blowing against the window-pane in
January and February and the wild winds are howling without,
what pleasure it is to plan for summer that is to be.

Celia Thaxter

He knows no winter, he who loves the soil,
For, stormy days, when he is free from toil,
He plans his summer crops, selects his seeds
From bright-paged catalogues for garden needs.
When looking out upon frost-silvered fields,
He visualizes autumn's golden yields;
He sees in snow and sleet and icy rain
Precious moisture for his early grain;
He hears spring-heralds in the storm's  turmoil­
He knows no winter, he who loves the soil.
-  Sudie Stuart Hager 

There is a privacy about winter which no other season gives you … Only in winter…can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.
-  Ruth Stout

Out of the bosom of the Air, 
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, 
Over the woodlands brown and bare, 
Over the harvest-fields forsaken, 
Silent, and soft, and slow 
Descends the snow.
-  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

WINTER EVENING

The crib stock fothered, horses suppered up,

And cows in sheds all littered down in straw,

The threshers gone, the owls are left to whoop,

The ducks go waddling with distended craw

Through little hole made in the hen-roost door,

And geese with idle gabble never o`er

Bait careless hog until he tumbles down,

Insult provoking spite to noise the more;

While fowl high-perched blink with contemptuous frown

On all the noise and bother heard below;

Over the stable-ridge in crowds,the crow,

With jackdaws intermixed, known by their noise,

To the warm woods behind the village go;

And whistling home for bed go weary boys.

                                John Clare (1793 - 1864)

Home is the place that goes where you go,

yet it welcomes you upon your return. Like

 a dog overjoyed at the door. We've missed 

you is what you hear, no matter how long

 you've been gone.

                                 ~ Michael J. Rosen, Home

A recipe for you... click to enlarge

The wintry hedge was black;

         The green grass was not seen;

                The birds did rest

                On the bare thorn’s breast,

Whose roots, beside the pathway track,

Had bound their folds o’er many a crack

                Which the frost had made between.

                                      ~Percy Bysshe Shelley

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home

The Old Barn...

by Marlin Pine

In memory I see the barn
Faded red and weatherworn

Inside the hayloft, ladder stands
Its rungs worn down from countless hands.

From cracks between the sagging walls,
The sun slants to the dusty stalls.

I hear the barn door's rusty rasp,
The summer breeze, the broken clasp.

Sweet fragrance of the newmown hay
Still lingers with me yet today.

The nail I drove next to the door,
Where hung my old rope hackamore.

O, stay the youthful memory...
The barn returns the boy in me.

So when I sleep, I dream I play
Inside the barn, upon the hay.

1. Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more,
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out thy mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
~Alfred, Lord tennyson

Merry Christmas

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan.

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone.

Snow had fallen softly, snow on snow

In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

What can I give him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.

If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part.

Yet, what I can, I give him... give my heart.

~Christina Rossetti

September days

Ahh, September! The month I've waited for. The month whose cool winds whisk away the heat and humidity that have lingered on the shoulders of the earth like a heavy, damp, unwanted cloak. The month that offers a hint of what is yet to come. She restores and refreshes not only the land all about, but snaps me out of my languid mood like the wind moves a sheet on a clothesline. Suddenly I am aware of the pile of weeds awaiting me out in the gardens. I realize that again the barn needs a good cleaning, that soon I will need to stack wood for the winter, that kindling needs to be gathered from the woods. The gardens will need a good cutting back and final weeding before they are put to bed for the winter. The birds feeders will soon be dusted off and re-hung in the dying maple near the house, oh! But first I need to harvest all the sunflower heads from the back berry garden. The kale too needs to be brought in and dried for winter soups. Apples are waiting to be picked, and it is time to clean out the tool shed, outhouse and garden shed, as well. What remains of the comfrey needs drying and setting aside for the chickens this winter... and the list goes on. But I am looking forward to working out in weather like this, instead of avoiding the sun and too-warm temperatures til evening or early morning offers some coolness.
It is curious how much weather can dictate our being in so many ways. As soon as the weather gets crisp, I want to bake and cook and, yes, even clean! Soup once again is on the weekly menu, Sunday suppers replace a weekend cook-out and oatmeal or pancakes are the preferred choice for breakfast after months of fruit and yogurt.
So I shall rejoice September days and look forward to the riotous glory of October, carrying old hope in my heart that winter shall arrive early, snow often and last long!

The golden-rod is yellow; the corn is turning brown;

The trees in apple orchards with fruit are bending down.

The gentian's bluest fringes are curling in the sun;

In dusty pods the milkweed its hidden silk has spun.

The sedges flaunt their harvest, in every meadow nook;

And asters by the brook-side make asters in the brook,

 From dewy lanes at morning the grapes' sweet odors rise;

At noon the roads all flutter with yellow butterflies.

By all these lovely tokens  September days are here,

With summer's best of weather, and autumn's best of cheer.

But none of all this beauty which floods the earth and air

 Is unto me the secret which makes September fair.

 'T is a thing which I remember; to name it thrills me yet:

 One day of one September I never can forget. 

~Helen Hunt Jackson

It is the month of June, The month of leaves and roses

When pleasant sights salute the eyes, And pleasant scents the noses."

-   N.P. Willis

Dear friends, I have been away for months. I decided to take this rainy day to catch up on things inside the house, and one of those things was to post something in my long-neglected blog! Tis not a long post, nor wordy... just a few photographs from around the barnyard and gardens should you care to take a peek... have a lovely day~

Food for thought?

I have a confession of sorts to make, dear friends. And, as is typical of me, I'll take the long way around to do it. You see, I have been debating about switching to conventional feed for quite some time, as the cost of the organic feed I have been purchasing for my poultry has been climbing steadily. When I went to the feed store a couple of months ago, I asked about the cost of conventional feed versus the organic. I was informed that organic was double the cost of conventional, even when purchased by the ton. The store manager and I discussed this at length, and I almost caved right then. A month later (just before the incident I'm about to share with you happened), I stopped by the feed store again, and we hashed over a few more things. Again I almost switched to conventional, but heeded my inner voice. Mind you, I measure in decades the years I have given my critters organic grain.

Something came about last month that solidified my decision to stick with organic feed. I debated sharing it, as I am not one to "tell" people where they should stand. Please know that is not my intention... it is just to offer my story and perhaps give us all something to consider...

Last month after I posted about clipping wing feathers, I awoke with a very itchy sensation on my face. It started out as a tingling feeling... almost as if I had gotten my forehead and one side of my face into a patch of stinging nettles. There were no marks or red spots, just a painful, itchy feel to my face. After a few days, there appeared to be a few tiny bite marks in my eyebrow area, then another appeared on my forehead and another on the bridge of my nose, and another near my hairline. This was all very perplexing, but I assumed I had gotten bit by a spider whilst at the barn. After a few days more, I developed a mild fever, the "bites" had swollen and turned an angry red, my right eye had almost swollen shut, and the lymph gland on the right side of my neck became very swollen and tender. When my oldest son came to pick up the grandchildren that evening, he made no bones about telling me what I looked like, and I called the doctors and headed in at 8 pm. The doctor on call said it had not been a spider bite, and thought it was impetigo along with a Staph infection. After a short lecture about not coming in sooner, he prescribed an antibiotic. As we were talking about what could have caused this, he made an off-the-cuff comment about giving me a stronger antibiotic due to the fact that I may have been scratched while in the barn. I asked him why that would cause me to need a stronger antibiotic. He said that unless I did everything organic, it was a better precaution. Well, it took me off-guard for a minute, but I asked him to repeat what he had said, and then I told him I DID do everything organic. Needless to say, I got the less-powerful antibiotic, and he got another question from me. I asked him what the difference was, and he said that conventional feed is so often full of antibiotics that merely coming in contact with it over all these years would have made me more resistant to the effects of the antibiotic. I shouldn't have been stunned... but I was.

So, that tipped the scale for me, and got me thinking about so many other things. And I can't help but wonder about them on a daily basis. I mean, if just so many years worth of handling the feed or mucking out the barn can do that, what about... well, never mind. I'll leave those questions for you to formulate if you're so inclined. But I will reiterate what my heart has felt all along... we are what we eat, and it is necessary to really think about what we eat and how it is really grown. Perhaps that is the true meaning of the phrase "food for thought".