Tag: inspiration

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Stories of the New Summer Flowers

How is it that something so bright and colorful can bring a sense of calm? I admire the tiny florets that combine to form the grand hydrangea and the tumbling clematis vining up the fence. They are at once complex yet simple.

As the cool spring has moved to toasty summer, the buds have grown to ornate blossoms. The sun kisses them, and they grow larger while their color brightens and deepens. When these flower friends greet me each day, they lift my spirit and bring me peace and joy.

Flowers appear simple, yet they are the lynchpin in a complicated food web. For example, as I write these words, two dainty hummingbirds and a rotund bumblebee dart from flower to flower on the honeysuckle vine right outside my door. Flowers truly are the insect and bird world’s kitchen, or should I say dinner plate.

Clematis

For years, I’ve had a whimsical clematis vine climbing my fence. Its delicate tendrils curl around the wrought iron with deep purple flowers poking out here and there. Politely reaching up and out, it slowly expands its reach every year. I try to tell it, “grow faster, grow higher, my beautiful vine. You can never be too much for me.” But it takes its sweet time, growing little by little as the years unwind.

Blossoms envelop my clematis vine for many weeks throughout midsummer. I find myself dreaming up new spots where I could place a trellis and tuck in another variety.

With all its colors and variations, clematis is a vine that the gardening world has been collectively enamored with for centuries. Hailing originally from Asia, it was brought to Europe in the early 1800s and finally made its way to the New World. It is regarded by many as the Queen of Vines, and that it is, possessing both grace and beauty.

Hydrangea

For myriad reasons, I recommend planting hydrangeas more than any other bush. They are like that person in your life who’s practically perfect in every way. Not only are the flowers beautiful, but their bloom times extend for months, from early summer through to the next year when you finally prune them. Additionally, they get more beautiful as they age, often going from ivory or pale green to pink or even deep rose as autumn progresses.

Many plants, trees, and bushes are suited to particular climates, called hardiness zones. Being in a northern climate, there are several southern plants for which I have intense zone envy. Some include the more ornate hydrangea varieties, like the lacecap and mountain hydrangea.

These jewel-toned beauties have graced southern gardens for eons. However, thanks to our busy scientists, more of these colorful varieties are becoming available in the northern zones.

Dahlia

If you’re looking for just one very good reason to live in a southern hardiness zone, it’s the ability to grow dahlias as a perennial. These plants sport massive pom pom-like blooms that can stand several feet tall. Humans have fawned over dahlias for centuries, and for good reason.

The flowers come in every color of the rainbow (except blue and black). They can be a dainty two inches in diameter or a massive 10 inches across. Hailing from Central America, dahlias are the national flower of Mexico.

While I can’t quite imagine digging up this beauty just so I could sauté its root, it was originally classified as a vegetable thanks to its edible, mocha-tasting tuber. I guess the powers that be agreed with me because it was eventually reclassified as a flower. One of its most favored qualities is its late summer bloom time. Right when other flowers are starting to fade, dahlias are going strong, and they continue right up until the frost.

Lavender

As I breathe in the deep purple color and the intoxicating aroma of my newly gathered lavender bouquet, my worries melt away. On gray and rainy days, I often light a lavender-scented votive candle and let the fragrance waft throughout the house, creating a warm, cozy mood.

My love for lavender runs deep, and the scent elicits a deep emotional response in me. I can’t get enough of it. Whether it is in a sachet in my woolens, in the dish soap by my sink, or in a vase on the counter, it’s the one flower I come back to when I’m looking for something special. Maybe it allures me because my northern clime prevents me from growing vast purple fields. Lavender’s relative scarcity up here makes it that much more special.

I suppose until the day I can own a lavender farm, I’ll resign myself to filling my house with lavender-scented tea, lavender candles, lavender soaps, lavender honey, lavender lotion, and lavender water for ironing…Is there ever too much?

The New Summer Flower Art Collection

Now that you see the inspiration behind all of these incredible flowers, you can see why I had to paint them. We really can never have too many flower designs to choose from so here are five more: clematis, lacecap hydrangea, panicle hydrangea, dahlia, and lavender. I hope you enjoy these new designs as much as I enjoyed painting them.

And whenever you sit down to write a note in one of these cards, no matter the time of year, I hope it takes you back to those carefree summer days of sipping iced tea in the garden while the hummingbirds dance all around you.

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The Trout Collection: Fly Fishing and the Waters of My Youth

As a little girl, summertime brought my family to the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness of Montana, where the primary pastime was fly fishing. Still today, the memories remain etched in my mind. I would sit on the rocky bank of the river, watching my father work his way upstream. He elegantly whisked his fly rod back and forth, the line barely grazing the top of the fast-flowing water. If he got lucky, an unknowing rainbow trout would mistake his fly for dinner and take a bite.

My dad famously advised anyone learning to fly fish to “pretend you’re holding a whiskey bottle under your arm. Work your rod back and forth while pretending to hold this bottle.” Now if you knew my father, you’d know him as a borderline teetotaler, not wont to indulge in the beverage. Thus he probably never actually owned said whiskey bottle, making his advice all the more humorous.

Golden Trout

Fly fishing stories and lore intertwined into the fabric of my upbringing. I remember hearing of a handful of high mountain lakes, accessible only by off-trail hiking, that were full of large golden trout. These elusive beauties were always deemed to be the ultimate capstone of trout. As you probably can imagine, these trout remained unreachable and thus safe from our fishing rods simply because we could never get our heads around bushwhacking over mountains to reach them.

Yellowstone Cutthroat Trout

Just a tad closer to our flies and tippets were the yellowstone cutthroat trout. This beautiful trout is distinctive for the bright pink splash of color around its gills and down along its sides. Even though they are considered native to the Yellowstone Park watershed, they historically and naturally migrated across the continental divide from the Pacific drainage into the Atlantic drainage, specifically the Yellowstone Park area.

Only very occasionally has a cutthroat been caught by a member of my family. When we stumble upon these beauties, we immediately release them back into the waters from which they came. Since we’re usually fishing in Montana rivers or streams, per that state’s regulations, we can’t keep them anyway. With such careful management as is happening in the states whether they’re found, these gorgeous fish will continue to flourish and multiply.

Arctic Grayling

One of the most captivating trout designs I’ve painted has to be the arctic grayling. Their too-big-for-their-body dorsal fin gives them a comical air. Then their thin stripe of pink along the edge of the fin is the perfect finishing touch, not unlike a hint of lipstick elevating your look from “everyday” to “evening wear”. Their little splashes of pink and random black dots remind me of a toddler playing with forbidden make-up.

The arctic grayling, while relatively common in Alaska, is quite scarce in the lower 48 states, found only in a handful of high mountain lakes in Montana. Because of this, I’m sad to say I’ve never seen one of these in person.

Rainbow Trout

Ah, the rainbow trout! Possibly the most caught and most talked about type of trout in my fly fishing circle. Every time I see the gorgeous rainbow stripes running down the sides of these trout, I remember again how special these fish are. This beauty graces our eyes for only a few minutes, as I run with the catch-and-release type of fishermen. Thus, these beauties always quickly return back to the waters from whence they came. However short and sweet our encounters, they never fail to delight.

Brook Trout

It would seem that brook trout have a bit of an identity crisis. If you live in the eastern United States, where they are under stress, you adore this fish. However, those of us in the mountainous western states don’t have quite so much appreciation. That’s because the brook trout’s ability to flourish is causing populations of native trout to decrease. No matter your level of affection, you can’t help but admit they sport a captivating pattern of yellow and red splotches on their sides. Their squiggly spots made them quite enjoyable for me to paint.

Brown Trout

Finally the brown trout, the most spotted of all the trout I painted. I love the coloring of this beauty, with its buttery tan lower abdomen that morphs into brown higher up on the body. Brown trout originated in Europe and were transplanted to the United States in the 1880s. These behemoths run an average length of 12 to 20 inches. Although they can be found in tributaries, they prefer to hang out in bigger waters. They are wily and can be elusive, making them “the one to catch” for many anglers.

The Trout Art Collection

It was pure joy to paint this trout series. Not only do the trout themselves hold a sacred place in heart, but their habitats do as well. Some of my favorite places in the world are the clear waters of the rivers and lakes they call home. The sound of the rushing stream, the smell of lodgepole pine, the flicker of a trout flipping its tail fin above the water during the evening rise…This is where my soul lingered as I painted these beauties. And like a mantra echoing in the recesses of my soul, I heard the voice of my father saying, “Now don’t drop that whiskey bottle!”

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Captivated by Coffee: Introducing the Coffee Greeting Cards

Starting my day with a steaming cup of hot coffee is one habit I particularly enjoy, and one I’m sure many of you share. Coffee is especially comforting in the bleak midwinter, hence the arrival of my new coffee cards.

Coffee’s sweet aroma wafts throughout the house as I grind the beans, and then again as I pour the steaming water over the grounds. This decadent smell seems to float through the air, following me around as the house awakens. I usually take my first sip in the middle of my morning workout. One would think I’d prefer a cold drink of ice water, but hot coffee seems to hit the spot.

A Step Above the Ordinary Cup

On a particularly cold or blustery day, I fire up my La Pavoni espresso maker. This vintage machine has been serving me faithfully for nearly 25 years. It continues to deliver delicious coffee drinks to friends and family alike.

While I have several syrups and can create a wide array of specialty drinks, my personal favorite is a straight-up latte, made with locally sourced whole milk and locally roasted and freshly ground coffee beans. It’s no wonder that I’m quite attached to my coffee habit.

Why We Love Coffee

Why do we crave a hot drink on a cold day? Why do we choose to meet friends in coffee shops? Where does our coffee obsession come from? I believe it at least in part stems from our predilection toward the nostalgic.

A Source of Memories

For me, drinking coffee started as a social event with those who were special in my life, my family or friends. We enjoyed sweet treats and a cup of coffee, always resulting in lengthy conversations and thus cherished memories.

A Travel Companion

Coffee drinking also holds significance because of its role in my wanderings. When I travel, I regularly scout out the best coffee shops. Some of my fondest memories include sitting with family or friends in a funky coffee shop in some strange and far-off city.

A Place to Meet Locally

Then, of course, I must not forget the local coffee shops. I’ve spent more time and money in these wonderful places than I care to admit! However, good times and great conversations are the irreplaceable fruit of these meetings. Time with loved ones is hard to come by, so I cherish each of these visits…and the accompanying cup of coffee.

My Husband’s Moka Pot Tradition

A number of years ago, my husband started a tradition. He would make us a moka pot of coffee when we were in the depths of a big (and usually unruly) outdoor project—one typically involving the yard, garden, or garage. As you moka pot aficionados know, these pots don’t make much coffee, just two small cups of this very stout elixir. But it hits the spot every time.

Not to mention, my husband usually makes it when we’re working in cool, blustery conditions, thus a hot beverage is welcome. Over the years, this little moka pot tradition has blossomed into more than just a cup of coffee. It’s a shared memory between me and the man I love. It’s a pause that refreshes and unites.

The Coffee Art Collection

Because I often drink coffee while writing cards, I inevitably needed to paint a series of art designs that revolved around coffee. I chose to include my favorite methods of brewing along with some of my favorite cups.

La Pavoni

Truth be told, I am in love with my La Pavoni espresso maker, so I had to paint it. As I created this design, the lines and details of this beloved machine had to be just right. Now as I look at the card design, it epitomizes what I love so much about coffee: serving it steaming hot to those who enter my home.

French Press

The next brewing method I painted is one I use every day, the French press. My husband and I have brewed coffee using a French press for decades. After breaking many glass beakers, we opted for a stainless steel insulated pot a few years ago. The insulated quality is a particularly nice feature. I admit I have a quirk; I like my coffee really hot. This pot does the trick in fine form.

Moka Pot

The most common method of brewing coffee in Italy is a moka pot. These little pots were invented by Alfonso Bailetti in 1933. He named the pot after Mocha, a city in Yemen that was renowned for particularly good coffee. My fondness for this brewing method made this pot a shoo-in for this collection.

Coffee Plant

Coffee beans are actually the seeds inside the coffee fruit, which looks like a small cherry. The branches hold beautiful clusters of red coffee cherries. A coffee tree will take four to five years to produce its first fruit and then will only produce about a pound of coffee beans in a single year. Knowing that these beans take so much work makes me appreciate each cup of coffee even more.

Coffee Cups

I have many favorite coffee mugs and cups, but choosing which ones to paint was an easy decision. My first choice was an ancient blue and cream Spode espresso cup and saucer that I picked up years ago in a second-hand shop. The other cups are a set of multi-colored, striped espresso cups. Their bright colors bring me joy every time I drink from them.

The next time you sit down to write a thank you note or get-well card, I hope you’ll choose a card with a coffee pot or cup on the front. And inevitably, doing so will inspire you to make a cup for yourself. Because what better way to write a card than with a steaming cup of coffee at your side?

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Let’s Ditch the Dry Turkey

Can I admit to you, my dear friends, that I sometimes find the Thanksgiving meal boring? There it is. Out in the open. But hear me out. This is one holiday where we are all tied to the exact same meal on the fourth Thursday of November. To make matters worse, usually we use the exact same recipes as we always have and often the same as our mothers did before us.

Don’t take this the wrong way. This boredom doesn’t take anything away from the value and appreciation I place on Thanksgiving as a holiday. Or, for that matter, my love of the month of November.

The Glories of November

November really is an unsung month. It no doubt has middle child syndrome. But like a middle child, November has charming characteristics all its own. For me, it’s a relaxing month. The busy rhythm of summer has ended, and the craziness of December is yet to begin.

I spend more time sipping coffee. Long evening walks watching crisp and clear sunsets become the norm. I start making braises and soups, all the warm cozy foods. I wash windows and organize my closets, taking out all the wool, knitted pieces I’ll need in the winter months. Taking long deep breaths of relaxation, I catch my breath. By the end of the month, I am fully thankful, if for nothing less than for having had a wonderful month.

What’s to Love About Thanksgiving?

As far as the Thanksgiving holiday goes, it has much to offer. First, the purpose of giving thanks is something essential to our well-being. An attitude of thankfulness changes how we view life. In my experience, we always have something to be thankful for, no matter the situation. When we find those things and are grateful for them, it’s like the dawn of a new day.

What’s Not to Love …

All this said, I have to admit I’m not thankful for canned sweet potatoes topped with toasted marshmallows. I’m not super thankful for glazed carrots or green bean casserole, canned cranberries, shredded carrot jello, or grocery store pie. While I appreciate the tradition that goes along with the decades of serving these menu items, I can’t help but think they’re boring. And even though all the mothers that have gone before us (God rest their souls) might disagree, they’re not that tasty.

What I’m Doing About It

It is with this combination of boredom and a healthy respect for tradition in mind that I have ventured on a quest. How do I un-bore Thanksgiving dinner and add some zing to the menu items, all the while keeping it fairly low on the labor-intensive spectrum?

Dessert

Let’s start with dessert because, well, why not? The capstone is always a good place to begin. I’m considering whether to remove pie from the menu altogether … There has to be something more spectacular that can serve as a replacement. But the stakes are high. If I don’t succeed at dessert, my family may boycott the meal altogether.

To make the day flow easier, I’m going to choose a dessert I can make a day or two ahead. The first thing that pops in my mind is pumpkin cheesecake. Cheesecake needs to be made in advance, and my recipe is delicious. However, it is still mildly boring, plus I’ve made it for Thanksgiving before. Perhaps pumpkin tiramisu or a pear galette. Either would be delicious and interesting enough.

But I finally settle on a goat cheese cheesecake topped with cranberry gelee and salty/sweet pecans. Oh, and individual persimmon pudding cakes served with cinnamon whipped cream. Cranberries and persimmons are two of my favorite fall fruits. The creamy cheesecake counters the freshness of the cranberry gelee, a true show stopper. As a nod to those who must have pumpkin on Thanksgiving, I may have a few individual pumpkin custards sitting in the wings.

Turkey

Moving backwards in the meal is the piece de resistance, the turkey. I have to tell you that I could probably write a book named “55 Ways to Cook a Turkey.” I’ve tried them roasted right side up, upside down, brined, marinated, high-heat roasted, slow-roasted, stuffed, unstuffed, rubbed with herb paste under the skin, rubbed with herbs on the outside … I’m always searching for ways to make the turkey both flavorful and tasty. But the preparation must be simple. There are enough parts to this meal that I don’t want a complicated turkey recipe.

The challenge is keeping the turkey meat moist while also making it delicious and unique. After much thought and research, I am going to use a hybrid of one of Thomas Keller’s recipes, Bouchon Roast Turkey. Here he uses a mix of techniques to achieve two of my three criteria. This turkey will be both moist and delicious.

He starts by soaking the meat in a brine mixture of lemon, garlic, herbs, pepper, and kosher salt. This particular combination of ingredients will really amp up the flavor of this bird. He then uses a high heat method to cook the turkey. The theory behind doing this is that the higher temperatures of the oven seal the juices inside the bird, making it more moist.

The Accoutrements

As far as the side dishes go, they happen to be the favorite part of the meal for most of my family. The edict from my clan has always been, “Don’t mess with the side dishes!” Thus, my challenge is to change things up without changing things up too much.

Cranberries

Typically, I like the cranberries to be unadulterated, cooked with just water and sugar. This year, though, I am going to make a second cranberry sauce with added apples. I’ll substitute apple cider for some of the water and add a finely chopped apple to the cranberries before cooking them. The extra sweetness from the apple and cider is enough that I won’t need to add any sugar in the recipe—always a good thing.

Sweet Potatoes

I’ll whip the sweet potatoes into a puree, adding a bit of cream and mascarpone cheese to make them creamier and increase the richness. The marshmallows will stay in the pantry. I prefer sweet potatoes to be on the savory side of the flavor wheel.

Stuffing

Stuffing is something one never wants to skimp on, so this year I’m going to amp up the classic version using dried sourdough bread from a local bakery, sautéed Italian sausage, garden onions and celery, and an abundance of herbs harvested from my garden.

Green Bean Casserole

In homage to certain members of my family, I’ll make green bean casserole. Mine, however, will use fresh French green beans, mushrooms, shallots, and thyme sautéed in butter and sherry vinegar, then finished with heavy cream, salt, and pepper. I’ll cover it with crispy fried shallots. Now that is my kind of green bean casserole!

A Spot of Something Sweet

Lest anyone get faint from hunger during the football game, I am adding a new iteration of snickerdoodles, chai-spiced. They’re a standard snickerdoodle dough rolled in a mixture of sugar, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and cardamon. What a delicious riff on a classic cookie.

I Can’t Forget the Dinner Rolls

Alas, I would be remiss if I failed to mention everyone’s highlight. These homemade dinner rolls entered my family’s Thanksgiving tradition more than twenty years ago. They have been deemed essential, and thus, they must be freshly made on Thanksgiving Day. God forbid day old dinner rolls …

You wonder why these humble rolls hold such a hallowed spot? Firstly because their aroma when baking is what wakes everyone up in the morning. Coffee and fresh dinner rolls enjoyed in your pajamas are a highly valued tradition in our house. In the evening, they become a necessary component of the ubiquitous turkey sandwiches. With all this early and late ingestion of dinner rolls, you are no doubt wondering if there are enough for the actual meal. Don’t tell anyone, but I tuck a certain percentage away only to bring them out for the Thanksgiving meal itself.

There you have it. My rough and tumble plan for this year’s Thanksgiving meal. Hopefully you glean a few bits of inspiration from my slightly askew interpretation of the meal. Now that this planning is out of the way, I’m going to sit down with a cup of tea and try to figure out how to make my December more like its easy-going sibling, November.

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Introducing the 2022 Holiday Greeting Cards

As the Christmas season nears, I wanted to share the stories that shaped this year’s collection of holiday greeting cards...

Pinecone

It was autumn on the shores of Lake Tahoe. As we walked along the path that bordered the lake, majestic pine trees rose grandly all around us. As we ventured through the trees, we stumbled upon some of the most beautiful pinecones I had ever seen. Upon investigation, I discovered these pinecones belonged to the Jeffrey’s pine, a close relative of the Ponderosa pine. Jeffrey’s pine trees are found in a long strip from Oregon to northern Baja California in Mexico, at higher elevations, and in my case, on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada mountains.

We gathered as many of these gorgeous, chunky pine cones as we could fit in our car. Draped in twinkle lights, along with sugar pine cones, they have since graced my fireplace mantle every Christmas. Interspersed with candle votives, wax-dipped pinecones, and Christmas tree balls, Jeffrey’s pinecones create the calming holiday ambiance I seek during a busy holiday season.

Pomegranate

As soon as the calendar flips to December, I get in the mood for all things pomegranate. Fresh pomegranates await in my fruit bowl, ready to garnish a variety of dishes. These ruby seeds find their way into my cocktails, salads, and hors d’oeuvres boards. I use reduced pomegranate juice in glazes for meats and in several sauces and braises I make over the holiday season.

Pomegranates are one of the quintessential Christmas fruits, bringing a crunchy zing to any dish. They were an obvious choice for including in my holiday greeting cards this year.

Holly

Holly, the shiny-leafed evergreen, is one of my favorite Christmas plants. On a stark winter day, their bright green leaves and red berries remind us that spring will come again. The plant’s thorny points that encircle the leaves and bright berries give a distinctive look that enhances any holiday bouquet. It’s my hope that this year’s holly wreath design will brighten your holiday and remind you of the life and love ever present in this season.

Nuthatch

Red-breasted nuthatches are a darling and quirky little bird. All winter they flit around our yard, moving between our bird feeder, where they eat upside down, and our massive pine tree, where they run up and down the trunk looking for bugs underneath the tree’s bark.

The nuthatch’s upside-down view of life helps find bugs that are missed by birds that only look at things from a right-side up perspective. Nuthatches may be small, but they fiercely defend themselves and their young against larger predators, such as hawks, woodpeckers, owls, and squirrels.

The spirited personalities of nuthatches mesmerizes me and keeps me returning to the window to watch them. Acrobatic, agile, and loud they surely are. They’re in and out, up and down, back and forth. This amusing and energetic northern bird is a pleasure to include in this year’s holiday collection

Red Pine

As a young girl, I spent my days building forts, playing hide and seek, and picking wild blueberries in the shadows of the great red pines. You see, for many years of my childhood, my playground was a vast forest of red pines in northern Minnesota, where they’re uniquely known as Norway pines. The ubiquitous Norway pine tree is Minnesota’s state tree. With its top-heavy nature, the Norway pine doesn’t resemble your stereotypical conifer.

There are a few distinctive things about northern Minnesota, pine forests and lakes being two of them. Oh, and those -20°F winters! Minnesota is called the land of 10,000 lakes, but it could as easily be called the land of 10,000 Norway pine trees, except it’s probably closer to a million.

These tall majestic trees can grow to heights of 150 feet with straight trunks that often grow to three feet in diameter. When young, they are a popular choice to use as a Christmas tree. This variety of pine is self pruning, which leads to a large percentage of the bottom of the trunk having no branches. In turn, they open up the forest floor, which leaves lots of space for fort building!

Conifer forests of one sort or another have played important roles in my life, whether it’s the lodgepole pines of the Absaroka Beartooth mountain range in southern Montana, the ponderosa pines that scattered across my property in Colorado, or the Norway pines of my youth. When thinking about which conifer to paint for this year’s holiday collection, the red pine quickly rose to the top of the list.

The Holiday Greeting Cards

It is with joy that I offer you this year’s holiday collection of greeting cards. It is my hope that they inspire you to slow down and savor the season. Take a moment to look out the window and watch the winter birds skitter about. Breathe in the pine scent of your Christmas tree. Sip on that pomegranate martini. Light the votives on your holly and pinecone-laden mantle. And through it all, remember what’s truly important in life, and hold them a little closer.

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Fall Art Release: Vegetable Watercolor Collection

The Hum of Autumn

The dawn is crisp as I step into my garden. This coolness is new and refreshing. I know the day will heat up later, but for now I contentedly pause to breathe in the chilled air. I arrived at the garden early today to assess which vegetables are ripe and ready to be turned into rich pots of sauces or pickled into crunchy delicacies.

Something about the late summer days calms me even though the days and nights are full with harvesting and canning. Maybe it’s because the heat of summer is over and all that I’ve been preparing for since early spring is now bearing fruit.

Harvesting Garden Vegetables

Evenings and weekends hum along with a similar tune. I open the kitchen windows, turn on jazz saxophone music, and start creating from the garden bounty. It’s my happy time. What have I made before that I want to repeat? What new venture will I try this year?

Carrots

Back in the garden, I start with the carrot patch. I planted three varieties this year. Nantes and Chantenay are the two orange carrots I chose. They are trusty producers, always sweet and juicy. The other variety I planted is Purple Dragon. This is such a beautiful carrot, purple on the outside and orange on the inside. It’s always a crowd pleaser sliced into a salad.

Tomatoes

Across the aisle from the carrots are the tomatoes. Let’s just say I went a little overboard when I ordered my seeds last winter. It was a frigid day in the depths of January when I perused the seed catalogs and websites. This is a dangerous combination for me, as I’m bound to start dreaming of summer and a prolific harvest.

Now, as I look over my tomato collection, I’m glad I planted so many varieties. Most are interesting and delicious. I have what I call the United Nations of tomatoes and peppers.

They hail from most corners of the globe—with many countries in Europe, eastern Europe, the Mediterranean, and the Americas represented. Some of my favorite medium and large tomato varieties include German Pink, Japanese Black Trifele, Black Sea Man, and Dester. I’m newly addicted to two cherry tomato varieties, Blondkopfchen and Sunrise BumbleBee.

Garlic

Planting my garlic has become a cherished tradition for me. I spend many evenings scrolling through the garlic producer’s websites, reading about each type, and trying to choose what varieties to plant. Of course because of where I live, I have to pick from the hardneck options, which thrive in cooler Northern climes. This year I played it safe with the reliable Music variety, and I ventured into the unknown with Georgian Crystal, Pehoski Purple, and Chrysalis Purple.

For our blog posts archives, we are showing a photo of a garlic clove on a ceramic plate

Radicchio

Every year I challenge myself by planting a new type of vegetable in my garden. One of my favorite introductions was radicchio. This is such a sturdy little plant, whose best trait is that it shines in the very late fall when the days are cool. Radicchio is an Italian chicory. It’s delicious sautéed and tossed into risotto along with Parmigiano-Reggiano and pancetta. The leaves’ complex bitterness offsets the creamy richness of this dish. In addition, radicchio has been the subject of many experiments in my cooking, its flexibility making it an asset to any garden.

Mushrooms

On summery Saturday mornings, I hustle into line at the local farmers market to stock up on mushrooms. In my town, a local grower offers several varieties of unique mushrooms, and Chanterelles have become one of my favorites. They can form the base of a rich, savory bisque. They are heavenly when sautéed in butter and white wine and then finished with truffle salt and served over warm brie. Chanterelles are a mushroom I return to time after time, and for good reason.

The Vegetables of Fall

Autumn vegetables: from artichokes on my hors d’oeuvres platter to the bundle of flint corn gracing my front door, this group of vegetables is in a league all its own. They shine in both beauty and flavor. They elevate my cooking game. I say that tomatoes are my favorites, but that’s not really true. After all, then I’m abandoning the peppers, olives, onions, and squash in my life, and I could never do that.

These vegetables are at their delicious height right now, and I can do nothing but slow down and savor their bounty. In the spirit of these bountiful garden harvests this fall, I’m sharing my gourmet and autumn vegetable greeting card designs with you. I hope you find these pieces of art will bring joy to each person you send them to. Visit my shop to view the designs available in this new card collection.

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Summer Flower Cards: About the New Art Collection

Every summer growing up, my family would pack into the car and travel across Minnesota and North Dakota. We’d end up just into the eastern slice of Montana at my grandparents’ ranch. As we drove west, we couldn’t help but notice the countryside getting more and more arid. As we drove past the stunning North Dakota badlands, the multicolored lines in the rock formations jumped out at us in their stark beauty. As we drove, fields of sunflowers and corn turned into rolling hills with rock outcroppings, and fields of wheat transformed into cattle pastures.

Petunia

My grandparents’ ranch was located on a great, open prairie. Rolling fields of wheat, barley, and hay greeted us as we drove down the gravel road leading to the homestead. Upon turning into their driveway, however, our eyes turned to another scene. Billowing beds of brightly colored petunias circled the white stucco house. My grandmother, always one to turn a challenge into something of beauty, had found one of the few flowers that thrives in hot sunny spaces. Give petunias some soil, water, and sun, and you’ll have a colorful profusion of flowers all summer long.

On the hot, dry expanse of northeastern Montana, she created and tended a garden so lovely that it welcomed visitors into her space. The desolate nature of the location was lost in the colorful floral greeting.

Zinnia

In recent years, I have followed in my grandmother’s footsteps by planting an inordinate number of flowers in my vegetable garden. Planting flowers not only helps out the pollinator insects, but it also allows me to share flowers far and wide. After all, flowers always seem to lift our spirits and brighten the day of everyone who gets to enjoy them.

The flowers I leaned into were zinnias. I purchased them in many colors and sizes and proceeded to plant them in every nook and cranny I could find, and they did not disappoint. They flowered, and flowered, and flowered some more from late June until frost finally took them in October. Zinnias will always hold a special place in my heart because of their uniquely colorful hues and their ability to bring life to a kitchen table.

Nasturtium

I’ve had trouble deciding who loves nasturtium more: me or the robins. Promptly after I plant my nasturtium seeds, the robins descend, feverishly digging around in my planters, searching for the seeds to eat for dinner. On the off chance that one of my seeds evades their notice long enough to become a flowering plant, nasturtium tend to bloom with abandon.
All parts of the nasturtium plant are edible. The flowers and leaves appear as often in my salads as they do in my bouquets. Then, the seeds produced after the flowers are done blooming taste delicious when pickled with other garden vegetables.

Nasturtium plants’ brightly colored flowers, quirky twisted stems, and circular leaves are an essential addition to my planters. Together with basil, I tuck them in and around my tomato plants, using companion planting to my advantage. The flowers cascade down from the pots, acting as both an attractor for pollinating insects and a deterrent to the destructive ones that might want to do harm.

Yarrow

In xeriscape landscaping, the goal is to choose plants that thrive on neglect. In this area, yarrow is a frontrunner. Yarrow prefers hot, dry, sunny conditions, so it is an obvious choice for water-challenged regions of the country. Yarrow is also an excellent pollinator flower. On any summer day, you’ll find it covered with bees and other pollinating insects. Yarrow comes in colors ranging from white and yellow to pink, red, and burgundy, so it can compliment many types of flower beds.

The downside of yarrow is that it has a tendency to multiply, so regular weeding of the baby plants is necessary if you want them to stay in the boundaries of your landscaping. When you’re weeding yarrow, dig down at least a foot to get out the whole rhizome. Any broken off piece of the rhizome can become a new plant.

In addition, remove the flowers as soon as they are fading to control the spread through seeds. A single plant can produce thousands of seeds, which can remain viable in the ground for up to nine years. While there are many great reasons to grow yarrow, don’t plant it unless you can keep it in check.

Rose

Roses are in full bloom, the billowy bushes covered in red or pink. Their aroma captivates me as I walk through the neighborhoods. I come upon an old wooden arch covered in the climbing pink variety. These look to have been growing here for years, their tangly branches reaching up and over the arch, forming what would be the perfect backdrop for a garden wedding.

I think of my mother-in-law, who was a gardener and grew the old fashioned hybrid roses. These varieties possessed a fragrance that is challenging to find in current varieties. What I would give to have some of her rose bushes in my garden.

Garden roses elicit memories of times past. A small bouquet of roses sitting in a vase next to my cup of coffee: This was a common scene when visiting my mom, aunts, or mother-in-law. Fresh roses, hot coffee, a spot of something sweet, and meaningful conversation make for fond remembrances.

Pansy

Pansies tend to be the first flower I purchase in the early spring. As the tiresome gray winter months transition to spring, the weather slowly warms, and the days lengthen. 

As the spring dawns, the purples, oranges, yellows, and pinks of pansies are the perfect antidote. The faces of the flowers almost look as if they’re smiling, and their colors no doubt brighten anyone’s day. 

As soon as the nights warm, a planter full of pansies settles in by my front door. As neighbors pass by, the pansies tell of times to come, affirming that more color is on the way. Green grass, yellow daffodils, red tulips, and purple iris will be here soon. The pansies are just the doormen to the gateway of spring.

Sweet Pea

Sweet peas are the iconic spring vining flower that climb up trellises and over garden gates, spilling over the tops of large planters. Their intoxicatingly sweet scent brings me back to the cottage gardens of our grandmothers. Long treasured for its sweet fragrance, this flowering legume has graced the walls of gardens since the 17th century. 

Sweet peas are easy to grow, and they quickly add color to any garden space. Being a legume, they enrich the soil because of their nitrogen-fixing quality. These early flowers will also bring pollinating insects into your yard, a much desired trait. 

One of the best ways to plant sweet peas is to intermingle them with other vining plants, such as pole beans, around the base of a tall bamboo tripod. Place this in the center of your garden, and the birds and insects will be sure to visit. 

The Summer Flower Cards

Flowers abound, filling my garden and my vases. The gray of winter seems more bearable contrasted against the vibrance of flowers present in the summer months. I’m soaking up the beauty while it lasts.

These flowers have inspired the creation of my latest watercolor art and greeting card designs, the summer flower collection. Composed of designs of eight distinctive summer blooms, I hope this collection warms your heart and the hearts of those to whom you send them.

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The Charm of Garden Bulbs: New Watercolor Art

It seems like spring has had to work overtime to get winter to exit the scene this year. But finally, the rains are here, the grass is greening up, and the trees are beginning to bud. More than anything, the lovely spring bulbs are starting to bloom. In this vein, I’d like to introduce you to my new collection of garden watercolor art, the flowering bulbs.

Spring Bulbs

I have always had a thing for early spring flowers. Maybe it’s the grayness of winter; maybe it’s the stark empty branches of the trees. First, I see crocuses and muscari, then daffodils, and then tulips and irises. As these flowers begin to shine their colorful faces for all the world to see, it does something to my spirit. Just like that, life is new and fresh. 

The birds’ chirping seems louder and happier. People are starting to move outdoors. Runners and cyclists are taking advantage of the warming days to exercise on the paths and streets of my city. In every spring thaw, life emerges after a deep winter sleep.  

Gardening with Bulbs

Years ago, I sort of went wild planting bulbs around my yard, choosing everything from fritillaria to muscari to many unique interesting varieties of tulips, daffodils, irises, and lilies. I planned it in such a way that we had bulbs of many kinds constantly blooming from early spring well into summer. 

Some of the advantages of planting bulbs in your landscaping and garden beds include: 

  • They are perennials, so they come back year after year.
  • Spring bulbs are often early to emerge, offering spring color. 
  • Most bulbs are low maintenance.
  • Bulbs multiply on their own, so you can divide them and spread them out in your beds or give them away to friends.
  • Many bulbs are deer and rodent-resistant (amaryllis, daffodil, snowflake, crocus, muscari, iris).
  • Lilies have a long bloom time, and you can stagger the bloom times of the various bulbs by planting a mix that bloom at different times throughout the spring/summer. 

This year already, I have seen muscari, tulips, and daffodils in bloom, and they never cease to enhance the landscape with picturesque vibrance.  

Learn more about creating a garden this year through my virtual home gardening course. You still have time to sign up and get started with planting your garden this spring.

The New Garden Watercolor Art Collection

It is with these flowers in mind that I painted the new garden watercolor art bulb series, choosing to include lilies, tulips, iris, and daffodils. I painted them with the bulbs attached, hailing back to the many vintage botanical paintings I’ve enjoyed looking at over the years. 

I’ve created these designs into both cards and art prints. The cards are available individually as well as in packs. I’m also excited to announce that for the first time, I’m offering these four flowers as smaller individual art prints, matted into an 8×10 inch size.

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Cooking with a Hint of Sweetness: Gourmet Fruit Art Collection

Figs, apricots, quince, persimmons, and grapes; these gourmet fruit varieties stem from such unique lineages but possess similar captivating applications in the kitchen.

These are a collection of gourmet fruit ingredients I use time and again in entertaining because they transform the level of a dish. Their panache is unparalleled. I use them in appetizers as a sweet counter to savory meats and cheeses. They’re delightful as a part of the main course in braises, tagines, or roasts.

Then finally, they act as a sweet capstone in tarts, galettes, cakes, or toppings. These fruits have the power to change whatever you are serving from ordinary to special. They lend an earthy classiness to your meal.

Apricot

When I was a little girl, my mom would regularly make apricot jam. I grew to adore this jam on a piece of freshly toasted English muffin. I still taste the apricot flavor in my memories. Now, as an adult, I return to apricots as often as I can. They often find their way into braises, such as a chicken, white wine, and wild mushroom braise atop potatoes or rice. Apricots perfectly balance the savory hues and help create well-developed sauce. 

Quince

Likewise, quinces have played a role in my culinary journey. I was first introduced to this fruit when I lived in the French province of Alsace. The mild climate of eastern France is perfect for quince trees to thrive. Harvested in the late fall, they turn into pastes and butters, and they’re baked into cakes, tarts, and galettes. Quince also adds a refreshing sweetness when sliced and roasted with lamb in a tagine. 

As an added bonus, if you happen to live where quince trees grow, you get the privilege of enjoying their spring blossoms, which are the most electric color of pink coral possible. I swoon at the far-fetched idea of having a quince tree in my yard.

Fig

Figs seem like an almost mystical fruit to me. I’m always experimenting with interesting ways to use them. My most recent find was a recipe in Dorie Greenspan’s Around My French Table cookbook: 

I take fresh, homemade pasta (trust me, it’s worth it to make the pasta for this recipe from scratch), and toss it with browned butter, figs, and pistachios, among other things. What stands out to me in this recipe is the crunchy je ne sais quoi nature of those tiny fig seeds. It’s worth buying the cookbook just for this recipe! 

As with quinces and apricots, making a fig paste, or a very concentrated jam, to serve with cheeses and meats proves a sweet counter to the more savory hors d’oeuvres items. These intensely flavored fig pastes are also amazing with a slice of buttery pound cake, in the filling of a crepe along with some Brie, or melted into a marinade for grilled meat; the list could go on and on. Pretty soon I’ll be putting it on my toast. Wait a minute, that’s actually a great idea…

Persimmon

Persimmons meet and exceed the same thresholds as the other fruits in this collection. They can have both sweet and savory applications. When included in your menu, they elevate the playing field. The color and shape of persimmons are almost cartoonist. They make me smile. As with many fruits, the wild ones have the most interesting flavor. When cooked into pudding and butters, persimmons’ bright flavor adds a complicated sweetness that’s hard to pin down but delightful to the palate.

Red Grape

I have left my oldest friend for last, the red grape. For most of us, grapes have woven their way in and out of our menus our whole lives. They’re an easy and nutritious fruit that your mom packed in your lunchbox during elementary school. For me grapes showed up in their wild form first. Wild grapes grow all over Minnesota. They spread by the birds, so they can be found along many public fencelines or climbing up poles or trees. These aren’t the sweet grapes from the grocery store. Rather they are tiny explosions of richness in your mouth. They really shine when made into jam, juices, or pastes, which I grew up eating. The best grocery store jam pales in comparison. 

Moving into adulthood, the first savory use for grapes was a chicken salad recipe from Lukins and Rosso’s original Silver Palate cookbook. Here red grapes serve as a delightful surprise up against the slivers of chicken, celery, and onion. A chicken, grape, and white wine braise over curried rice was my next iteration.

The grape I chose to paint for this newest collection caught my fancy because of its charming story. A vine was discovered winding its way up and around an old oak tree on Longanesi’s property in the Emilia Romagna region of Italy. They took cuttings and planted them in their vineyard. The grapes grew and thrived, and today roughly 500 acres of this grape variety is grown. Many Uva Longanesi varietal wines are now made from this grape.   

The Gourmet Fruit Art Collection

I painted the gourmet fruit varieties in this culinary art series because each lies close to my heart with its connection to great cooking. They are delicious in countless meals, and with them you can create complexly flavored food year round.

This art collection honors just a few of the sweet and beautiful ingredients in our repertoire. It’s my wish that you enjoy these fruits on greeting cards and fine art prints as much as you would enjoy them in your cooking. 

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The Story Behind the Mountain Wildflower Collection

Wildflowers of My Life

Mountain wildflowers have been part of the formative memories in my life. Not only did they proliferate on the dry mountainside of our Colorado home, but they have been ubiquitous on our mountain hikes and backpacking trips. Whether it was Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, or New Mexico, the native flowers that have been a part of my life are both tenacious and beautiful.

The Blue Hue of Lupines

Wild lupines transport me back to Montana, when in the early summer, cerulean violet lupine flowers begin to cover the mountain valleys. They form a luscious carpet. The meadows surrounding my family’s cabins take on a blue hue as all these iconic flowers come into bloom. 

Many years ago, my dear aunt Joyce even named her cabin after them, Lupine Lodge. When I think back on lupines, I remember all the summers spent in Montana from the time I was a young girl to now. 

The Bitter Chokecherries of My Youth

It is somewhat of an oxymoron to pick a fruit as bitter and poisonous as the chokecherry only to cook it into something as delectable as chokecherry jam.

I first encountered chokecherries in the days of my foolish youth, when my parents, siblings, and I would stop along the road and pick the Montana berries. We would fill ice cream buckets and then haul them back to the log cabin nestled in the backwoods of the Absaroka Beartooth mountain range. There we would begin the long process of transforming these bitter berries into luscious jams and syrups. 

Backpacking with Thimbleberries 

Likewise, thimbleberries have been part of many a mountain hike. The day typically goes like this: we’re walking along the trail, maybe having just crossed a hot sunny rockslide. We progress into a shaded area, and there’s a small mountain stream that runs next to the path. 

Billowing among the undergrowth are thimbleberry bushes. Of course, we stop, nibble on some for a few minutes, take a big swig of water from our bottles, then start moving again. This scenario could repeat itself over and over depending on how much of a hurry we’re in. 

Thimbleberries to me represent a refreshing pause for a fatigued body. They are a fresh respite to a hot day and a touch of nourishment to our increasingly hungry stomachs. 

Beauty on the Edge of a Mountain

Our house sat just back from the edge of the steep Rocky Mountain foothills of Colorado. The hills were stony with clusters of scrub oak and prairie grasses. Cacti poked their thorny faces out from the rocky soil, just asking you to step on them. 

As I made my way down to the valley below, I couldn’t help but marvel at how so many varieties of wildflowers seemingly thrived in such harsh and adverse conditions. The soil was very poor, and the hillside faced southwest, so it got a beating from the afternoon sun. What moisture did come either evaporated off or ran down the incline. 

Indian Paintbrush

In this unwelcoming xeriscape, wildflowers dotted the hillside, cheerfully beaming their colorful faces. Darling little burgundy Mexican hats, Indian paintbrush, ruby colored penstemon, yellow potentilla, and rudbeckia scattered across the dry slope. 

These wild beauties have adapted to the conditions of their environment. Many of them have long roots that drill down to the moisture and nutrients that are deep below the surface. Indian paintbrush thrive despite the conditions. Being a hemiparasite, this flower piggybacks off the surrounding grasses. They attach themselves to the roots of nearby grasses, which are already burrowed deep in the soil.  

A Flower’s Inspiration 

Is the Indian paintbrush’s stamina and unexpected beauty a metaphor for life? When one fights hard for something, the result becomes particularly striking. Over time, these flowers have figured out not only how to grow, but they’ve learned how to flourish in adverse situations. In fact, for these flowers, their environment isn’t adverse; it’s the norm.

Joy from Wildflowers and Berries

I find wildflowers to be inspiring. When I am huffing and puffing up a mountainside, I look over the steep slopes or high mountain meadows, and I see spectacular beauty in the wildest environments. How can I not breathe easier in their delicate elegance? 

My eyes light up when I see wildflowers in bloom against the stark and vast background they call home. Then the wild berries come as a rare gift in the wilderness when tasted on the edge of a remote trail.

As I sit here, painting within the bleak January landscape, I wait for next summer. I hope my family’s trips into the mountains coincide with the bloom times of our favorite flowers or the ripening of our favorite mountain fruits. 

Until then I draw them, and I paint them, and I offer them for you to enjoy on art prints and cards as well. This is so you can dream along with me. We can wait together for warmer days, for summer mountain wildflowers, for buckets full of chokecherries, for bushes alongside high mountain trails that offer up what little they have so that the fleeting visitor might be refreshed. 

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Art from the Garden

My Love for Art

In my kitchen hangs a painting of a sprouting potato. An unassuming thing, but it brings me joy. Its creator was Betty Strand, an artist and family friend. I’ve always been enthralled by art. Drawings, watercolors, sketches, weavings, batiks, pottery; the list could go on. My walls certainly reflect this passion, and art takes up residence in every possible area of my home.

As you all know, my fascination with cooking and gardening is all-consuming, and a day doesn’t go by that I’m not dreaming about freshly sliced heirloom tomatoes or something of the sort. So why not tie my love for art with my love for all things food and garden? Thus an idea bloomed. 

My original sketches when forming the idea to create garden art. You can see I carried some of my original designs into my later finished pieces.

As I thought about what I could offer you, my mind went to the passion I have for drawing and painting. If only I could give you a taste of the garden within the home, a reminder of the daffodils and crisp sweet peas of spring when you are surrounded by a January blizzard. The garden and kitchen bring me such contentment, and I hope they will bring you the same. Whether you hang my creations on your walls or send them as a greeting card to a friend, I hope they will brighten each blustery day.

Why I Love Paper

Over the years, as I have wandered through little boutique shops on lazy Saturday afternoons, what always catches my eye is their fine art paper and supplies. I don’t quite know why this is, but I have always had an odd obsession with beautiful, high-quality pens, pencils, and brushes of every ilk.

Don’t even get me started on art paper. Sheets of all sizes and colors stacked in cubbies that line an entire wall. Paper hung in large sheets on racks. The thicker the better, I say, and ideally it has some great texture, as well. Paper is such a simple thing, but I love high quality, thick paper, paper with frayed edges, and envelopes in unique shapes that tie shut with little leather strings.

I no doubt leave the boutique a poorer but happier woman, loaded down with a stack of thick cotton vellums, rolls of paper, several pens, and brushes of various sizes and thicknesses. 

The finished card sets. How do I show paper in a still image? Just rest assured, the paper I found passes the Cami test. Thick, linen-textured, faint ivory color, divine.

The Creative Process

Drawing and painting is an activity I have come back to time and again over the years. It’s in my bones, a part of who I am. I started off this project by sketching. Then I painted. They were small at first, and then they evolved to larger, more refined paintings that can stand the test of time. 

Left: my original artwork as well as some of the original, smaller designs. Top right: close-up of a few of my original ideas. Bottom right: the finished card sets.

There have been many iterations along the way, and I am sure there will be more. It is my pleasure to introduce you to my initial three collections, selections of favorite fruits, vegetables, and garden flowers. I am excited to continue creating more designs as well.

As we tread in the new water of this artistic endeavor, I hope you appreciate my lovingly painted watercolor art. I also wish for you to find meaning in the prose that I crafted to inspire and teach about each plant. I hope these designs printed on thick, beautiful, linen cardstock will make charming, classic greeting cards. Finally, when these pieces of art adorn your walls in frames, I hope they provide an elegant reminder of our collective love for plants.

I am excited to launch this new venture, and I look forward to hearing your suggestions for future designs.

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The Autumn Garden’s End

One Dreary Autumn Day

It had rained overnight, so as I stepped out the door, a fresh layer of fallen ochre-colored sugar maple leaves greeted me. Like gemstones, when strewn on the wet gray cement, the autumn leaves were almost luminous.

Oak and maple leaves in the fall with the play between the yellow, orange, rust, and wine colors, continue to inspire me. As the world around them is shutting down for winter and is becoming brown and gray, they shine in their brilliant splendor for all the world to see. 

Autumn bounty from the garden

Autumn Animal Visitors

I watch as a squirrel carries a large walnut in his mouth over to a spot in the lawn where he starts to dig. Nope, not quite the right spot. He moves a few feet over, then moves again. Finally he finds what he deems the perfect location to bury his precious nut. He starts to feverishly dig, into the hole drops the nut, and it’s quickly buried.

A mama cardinal lands on the fence and sits, looking over the situation before flying into the feeder to get an afternoon snack. It seems that all the birds are back in our yard. They’ve been out in the bushes, trees, and prairies all summer, but now they’re back at our feeders. It’s good to see them, the little nuthatches, the red-breasted woodpeckers, the slate-colored juncos, the chickadees, and of course the cardinals. 

Kale and green tomatoes from the garden.

Clearing the Garden

I turned away from my little friends. There was a laundry list of things to get done, and I had to get busy. I needed to harvest the last of my vegetable garden before the temperature drops. Working outside in the cold, I picked the season’s final tomatoes. It has been a great year for tomato production, but the vines started to turn brown. I pulled them out of the ground and stacked the cages. 

Next, it was on to digging up the carrots and beets. Then the leeks and onions, Then the peppers, eggplants, and cucumbers. My baskets filled up, and yet there was more to do. I dried the beans to shuck at a later time, so I laid those out on a tarp in the garage. I clip the herbs and store them in freezer bags for me to use this winter. 

Autumn bounty from harvest time.

Planting for Next Year

The final task of the day was planting my garlic in my newly empty garden bed. I chose some interesting varieties of garlic this year, and I’m excited to get them planted. There are a couple of purple varieties, one that grills up nicely, and a couple that will be sweet when eaten raw. I picked all of them for their lasting quality, as I hang them in my kitchen to use throughout the winter. First I dug holes in my rich dirt, buried the cloves, labeled the spaces, and covered the bed with piles of the dried oak and maple leaves. At last my work was done. 

Top left: onions from the garden, bottom left: more garden bounty, right: kale leaves from the garden.

Transition to Winter

It’s almost as if I just finished up reading a riveting novel. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the journey and now am in the final chapters. I don’t want the book to end. But end it does. Such has been this summer, the greenery, the garden bounty, the profuse flowers, the long, idyllic evenings. The chapters in this summertime novel are long and have captured my heart. Closing the cover to this book is bittersweet. 

With late autumn we move our lives indoors. We take the piles of vegetables on our counters and create rich stews and braises. We don sweaters and light candles. Soon the lovely scent of fireplaces burning will permeate our neighborhoods. The next novel, a wintertime one, is at my doorstep, and I’m ready to begin reading.

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An Ode to My Mother

Chokecherry Picking

We stained our fingers deep red, and our buckets mounded high with the chokecherries we’d been gathering all morning. My mother, my children, and I had driven down to a large thicket on a side road along the mountain river. It was a forgotten spot, a little traveled place where few went. Here the chokecherry bushes billowed over the ditch on the edge of the gravel. We felt like we held a precious secret in knowing where this stash of bitter berries grew. The berries grew abundantly, and we picked with abandon.

Now as we looked at our haul, we knew the work was far from over. We needed to turn these currently inedible berries into the sweet and delicious canned goods we treasured all winter long. My mother, a native of Montana, had grown up around these wild gems and knew the secrets to pulling out their flavor. We followed her lead as she patiently instructed us on how to clean and cook them and then extract the meat from the inner seed, resulting in a thick liquid. This deep, garnet-colored juice became the foundation for our jams and syrups. 

The tradition continues: this year's strawberry jam

Wild Grapes

Not long after this, my mom and I went through a similar process again, this time in Minnesota. It was early September, the time of year when the wild grapes ripen. We picked on the fence lines that bordered the freeways in spots where birds had planted the grape seeds years before. Once again buckets filled the kitchen table, and as we looked upon the bounty we had just gathered, we knew we had hours of work ahead of us. Undaunted, my mom pulled out the big pots from the cupboards, filled the sink with cool water, and we began the tasks of sorting and cleaning the grapes and then creating the delectable wild grape jam we treasured so much. 

Untamed grapes found in our neighborhood

I am grateful that my mom taught me how to go out into the woods and pick wild berries, be it wild blueberries, wild plums, wild grapes, or chokecherries. The concentrated nature of wild fruit results in an unusually flavorful jam. I grew up eating these delicacies, so they became a part of my cherished memory. 

Mom in 2017

Growing Up

My mother was the daughter of Norwegian immigrants who had homesteaded land in eastern Montana. Life on the prairie had not been easy for my grandparents as they worked tirelessly to tame the land and carve out a ranch. Cold, heat, grasshoppers, an overall lack of resources, the Great Depression, and more all worked against their success. I’m not sure that my mom or her siblings ever noticed, however. The spirit in the home was one of resolve, humble tenacity, and a calm graciousness. They crafted niceties from scraps, making intricately embroidered linens, dinners for neighbors, and warm loaves of bread baked in a coal-fired oven. 

Mom's wild rice soup

You see, it was a part of my mom’s inner soul to create sweet delicacies from sour grapes. It was who her parents had been and their parents before them. Eeking out beauty from scarcity. Hospitality bubbled up from a natural interest in others and their wellbeing. This graciousness was ingrained in her fiber as she welcomed family, friends, and strangers alike into the home. They often stayed for just a cup of coffee and a piece of something sweet, but sometimes they stayed for years.

Lemon bars

A Seat at the Table

From an early age, my mom modeled many things for me. She was an effortless hostess. That generation didn’t fuss for guests. You see, a tin of homemade goodies always sat in the freezer waiting to be enjoyed. Sometimes it was a lemon bar or a piece of apple crisp. Other times she treated us to was a plate full of hamburger mushroom casserole or a bowl of Minnesota wild rice soup. Sometimes all we needed was her listening ear. Other times it was a warm bed and a shower. She spent her days thinking about others. When people came to visit, my mom feted them and welcomed them wholeheartedly.

Mom's beef and mushroom casserole

The two constants were the tables. One was in the kitchen, the other in the dining room. The first greeted you on frosty mornings with a hot mug of coffee, a bowl of oatmeal topped with bananas, or crispy toast smeared with the jam du jour. The other table became the site of prolonged story telling by hosts and guests alike as dinners and the accompanying conversations ran late into the evenings. The food always remained simple, hearty, and home cooked. Soups, stews, casseroles; food to feed a crowd of hungry stomachs. We came, hungry for conversation and nourishment, and we left sated on all fronts. 

Making krumkake at Mom and Dad's house

The Gifts My Mother Gave Me

Even as the years passed and age began to get the better of her, hosting her dear family remained my mother’s favorite pastime. I like to think I inherited that from her. Whether we arrived early or came in after dark, the windows of the house would be glowing with a warm yellow light, the porchlight welcoming weary travelers.  My mother greeted the family with open arms, cozy beds, and fresh towels laid out for us.

Fresh peach pie

What remains today are the memories, the inner pull to emulate the gracious ambiance for others that she so faithfully created for me. An ambiance that pulled people toward her, that made them feel in that moment that they were the only ones that mattered. She wasn’t one to jump to a decision, but she carefully weighed the options. Mom gave me her measured thoughtfulness. She gave me the gift of time, her time. Such a precious and rare gift this is. It’s simple yet seemingly increasingly unavailable. She gave with no expectation of reciprocation.

A listening ear, a cup of coffee, a piece of pie, a jar of chokecherry jam, a couch on which to sit and chat awhile, a quiet wisdom; these are what I’m bringing with me into the future. These are the gifts my mother gave me.  

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Vice Principles

Apple Butter Memories

The apple butter is bubbling thickly on the stovetop. Bubbles the size of quarters is what I’m shooting for. The rich, sweet aroma steaming out from the pot is the definition of autumn for me. Whiffs of apple and cinnamon remind me of Saturdays spent chasing kids around orchards, their fingers sticky from holding caramel apples, their cheeks sugary from devouring piping hot apple doughnuts. Oh, how they loved to run through corn mazes and agonize over the best pumpkin to bring home to our front porch. This is the essence of canning apple butter, the essence of fall.

The Time for Canning

I realize as I painstakingly stir this pot that lately I have been doing a great deal of harvesting and “putting up,” as they used to call canning. This practice is one of the ways I’ve found joy in these less than ideal times. It has been a bounteous gardening year. In spite of the stores experiencing a run on canning supplies, I have managed to preserve several hundred jars of jams, jellies, salsas, pasta sauces, soups, pickles, etc.

However, it’s more than just the chore of preserving garden-plenty. This is my happy place. The rhythm of harvesting, cleaning, chopping, cooking, pouring into hot, sterilized jars, and hot-water bathing the filled jars seems as natural as breathing. The act of sharing with others, whether a random act of kindness or an intentional gift, confirms that both gardening and cooking are meant to be communal. Garden vegetables and canned goods both unequivocally yearn to be given away. (Always befriend a gardener; you’ll never need to garden yourself!)

Canning and Other Glorious Ways to Cope

My mind wanders to the other things that have kept me occupied and content, which leads me to think about vices. This word, vice, has a negative definition and connotation in every dictionary I could find. The most positive spin of the meaning is the word idiosyncrasy. For purposes of this discussion, I’m going with this meaning because vices are not always evil. They can be a way to cope with life’s circumstances.

My idiosyncrasies have been key in adjusting to and then enjoying this summer of relative isolation. I have been taking the time to smell the basil, the marigolds, and the tomato leaves (I can’t “smell the roses” because my sole rose bush decided not to flower this year). Savoring that early morning cup of French press coffee, watching the robins splash water everywhere as they spiritedly bathe in the birdbath, meandering through pristine college campuses as our sweet dog and I go out for our evening stroll, or the snaps and pops of paella grilling over hardwood coals. These have become my vices, my idiosyncrasies. These are how I remain content and bring this contentment to others.

Too Much of a Good Thing? I Think Not.

As we have slowed down and created new space in our lives, we can let either the bad habits or the good habits rise to the surface. I have chosen jam making, bread baking, garden weeding, book reading, sock knitting, and backyard nibbling with my pack as my vices. I’m not yet sure if they are good or bad. I think I might have overdone the jam making. My stash of socks and baby booties has gotten much too large. Can gardens be too weed-free? Possibly. One thing I know is that I can never have too much time nibbling with loved ones in the backyard. Can one bake too much bread? Hmmm. After all, I do need somewhere for all that jam to go.

Have our habits reset? Have some hobbies become fine-tuned? Has some of the unnecessary fluff in our schedules disappeared? Do we possess increased intentionality? If even some personal improvements have occurred, this is score one for the winning team, you.

Joy and contentment are choices we make not dictated by the circumstances that surround us. Consider adopting some vices. In these odd times, choose a couple of health-producing vices, choose joy, choose to spend time on those things and with people that are important to you. It’s a well known fact that negative circumstances often result in positive outcomes that you could never have imagined would be possible. This is one of life’s more interesting juxtapositions.

Are you having trouble deciding which vices are right for you? Well, you can have some of mine. I probably have too many anyway.

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Random Beauty: Self-Seeding

It was a cool, late spring afternoon. The sun shone, but there was a slight bite in the air. We were itching to dig outside in the dirt. My kids inspected the garlic patch, which was by now a foot tall. They called out to me, “Mom, we can’t believe you haven’t weeded the garlic. Look at all the weeds coming out of the ground.” I came over to inspect, and then I started to explain each little plant. This one was arugula. That one was fennel. Over here was dill. There was cilantro. These weren’t weeds at all. They were self-seeding plants from previous years.

Arugula growing amid the garlic
Arugula growing amid the garlic

Self-Seeding: What is it?

Self-seeding happens when a plant is left to flower and then go to seed. In the summer sun, these seeds dry out and drop onto the ground or are blown by the wind. They sink into the soil and stay there until the time is right for them to germinate and grow into a new plant. This is nature’s way of sustaining itself. It’s also how a weed can go from one plant to 300 in no time flat.

Over the past number of years, I have been increasingly intentional about letting my herbs and vegetables produce flowers so the beneficial insects have nectar to eat. On any summer day, fennel, cilantro, arugula, and lettuce flowers are covered with little hoverflies or bumblebees busily sucking in the sweet nectar these flowers provide. As they move from flower to flower, these diminutive bugs play the essential role of pollinating our fruit and vegetable plants.

Radish flowers that I am allowing to self-seed for next year
Radish flowers that I am allowing to self-seed for next year
Sporadic onion flowers growing up after they were missed in last year's harvest
Sporadic onion flowers growing up after they were missed in last year’s harvest

Why Self-Seed?

Many might say that letting plants self-seed is the lazy gardener’s way of operating. That is true in some respect. It can also be a frugal way to garden. When you let plants self-seed, you don’t have to buy the seed or plant the seed. It just comes up on its own.

I tend to have a favorable perspective on the philosophy of self-seeding. I love the whimsy of a coleus flower poking up in the middle of my radishes or a bachelor button in my beets. Cilantro taking root within my carrots brings me joy. Loveliness arises when a broad, white dill flower stands proudly next to the cucumbers. Order is laced with beautiful disarray.

Cilantro next to the garlic
Cilantro next to the garlic
Lettuce flowers that will self-seed for next year
Lettuce flowers that will self-seed for next year
Resting on the kale, a sporadic onion flower that grew up after being missed in last year's harvest
Resting on the kale, a sporadic onion flower that grew up after being missed in last year’s harvest

Ordered Chaos

Yesterday as I was harvesting berries, tucked up under the branches of the mulberry tree which the birds planted years ago, I noticed that the clematis had vined up around a lower mulberry branch. The plum-colored flowers intertwined with the dark purple berries. This simple artistry caught me and drew me in. The intentional encircling the accidental, the fanciful result of order marrying chaos.

Clematis vining up the mulberry tree
Clematis vining up the mulberry tree

Many gardeners set aside a designated garden space for self-seeding plants. Sometimes they combine this with their perennial vegetable garden. Perennial vegetables include plants like asparagus, rhubarb, raspberries, strawberries, walking onions, thyme, chives, and oregano. If these two categories mix in the same space, technically one never needs to plant these vegetables and herbs again. As the saying goes, “One only plants tomatillos once.” Tomatillos are famous for self-seeding.

Exceptions to Self-Seeding

There are a few caveats in this whole discussion. I do weed extensively in places where I do not want self-seeding plants to grow. For example, a lot of dill came up in a section where I had planted beets. I harvested the dill when it was five or six inches tall, opening up the space for the beets to grow and thrive. A similar thing happened where I planted my Basil Genovese. Arugula was happily growing very tall, shading the tiny basil plants. Guess what I ate for dinner last night? An arugula salad. The dill is going to top a baked slab of fish shortly.