Bittersweet Bounty

How many peas could a shifty sheller shell if a shifty sheller could shell peas?
Answer: a couple of kilograms worth.

Sad news: summer is winding down.

Glad news: the garden is winding up. The harvest has begun.



Linda's mom makes a harvest soup called peas podge. Until I met their family I had never had it, or heard of it. It is a dish that signals the bounty of a late summer garden, and the impending end of the season. 

It is, therefore, a bittersweet dish best served with a side of "holy-shit-where-did-the-time-go?"

Peas podge consists of recently picked peas, newly dug potatoes cubed, milk/cream, and butter. Salt and pepper to taste.

This soup would be nicely complimented by a freshly baked, still warm pita bread with za'atar spice (although I think that would enhance any meal). 

Happy harvest to our northern hemisphere readers, and happy seeding to those of you in the south. May you all have a bittersweet bounty at just the right time.

Last Day Of Summer 2018

Our backyard woods are beautiful this time of year.

Today is the last day of summer. That kind of snuck up on me. 

After a summer filled with many sunny days and high temperatures and humidity, I don't think I am mentally prepared for the cool weather conditions that we have shifted into already. 

I am happy to not have permanent heat exhaustion any more, although it was nice not needing bothersome things like clothes or blankets or supplemental heat for a few months. 

That really simplifies things.

This was the second summer drought in the last 3 years in our area. Many of our neighbours had the unfortunate experience of having a well go dry, again. You can't run a household without water. No water, no home.

We had a bit of a deterioration in our well's water quality, but not in quantity. It came to taste so bad that we had to pick up an on-tap filter system.

Tomorrow is the Equinox, when day and night are roughly the same length. From then until December 22, the hours of darkness increase, while our time in the sun decreases. Temperatures will rapidly drop off. 

I am beginning to come to terms with the change in season, again. Fifty-seven times I have been through this cycle, and it still feels like a surprise... or cruel joke. On the other hand, the woods changing colours, and brisk, crisp days, are something to be cherished.

We will just have to get used to getting fully dressed in the morning, after sleeping in a bed piled high with blankets. Wood stove, coats, gloves, toques (wool hats), and snow shoes now all have to be made ready. 

Problem is, my head and heart are still lounging in the garden. Onions, potatoes, carrots, and beets are still in the ground. We will can pickled beets over the weekend, while the wind and wet blow around outside. The rest can stay out for a while longer, since average first frost in this spot is some time between October 1 and 10th.

Happy last day of summer to Northern Hemispherians. Happy last day of winter to our Southern Hemispherian friends. Welcome fall/spring equinox.

Red Shift

Rhubarb from our garden space. First fruit of the season.

To borrow a term from astronomy, there is a red shift happening in my life right now. I can see it all around me as we shift from winter to spring, and from spring to summer.

Astronomers use the concept of red shift to ascertain how far away an object in space is from Earth, and to tell whether that object is moving toward us, or away from us. Objects moving away from us shift toward the red end of the spectrum, therefore, red shift. It is like a visual Doppler effect.

Red shift/blue shift.

Right now winter is moving rapidly away from us, and thank goodness for that. Even spring is moving away from the land, although that shift is a little slower here than other parts of Canada.

I can see this shift in slowly rising temperatures, and in the life that is returning as the cold and grey of winter recedes into distant memory.

Trees are leafing out, seeds in the garden are germinating, and colour returns to the land. Some of that colour is red, indicating another kind of red shift.

Rhubarb is an early spring plant, and one of the first to emerge in the garden. While everything else is slowly waking up, rhubarb bursts forth out of the ground to herald the shift in seasons. Before long its greenish-red stalks are holding up giant green leaves letting us know that the first fruit of the season is ready to harvest.

Some of our summer neighbours enjoying our feeder.

While that is going on another bit of red is flying into the scene. This year we got our hummingbird feeder out early to attract these beautifully red-throated visitors as soon as possible. And did they come. So far, the record is five hummers at the feeder at the same time.

After months of a cold, grey and white landscape we can see winter red shifting away from us. As that happens colour returns, and red is one of the most beautiful, and tasty. Today I watch hummingbirds from my kitchen window as I bake up a stellar rhubarb raisin custard tart.

I can see summer moving toward us (that would be blue shift), meaning heat and clear, blue skies.