Rites of Summer

What a magnificent weekend I had! Like many good ideas, these plans were conceived while chatting over a beer with friends at Elsie's, our neighborhood bar/bowling alley. Lisa, my friend, fellow archer, and intrepid camper, suggested that we take a trip to Devil's Lake in Wisconsin, to check out the sites in that area. We drove up on Friday and camped in Devil's Lake State Park, where we weathered a pretty significant night-long thunderstorm in our new tent (an MSR Mutha Hubba, which is worth every penny and more), and managed to stay relatively comfortable and dry. The next day dawned clear and bright and after the purchase of some trusty Aqua Socks, we met up with more new friends and took a trip to Pewit's Nest Nature Area, where we hiked/slid/swam down a series of waterfalls. I didn't get to take a picture, but an image search for Pewit's Nest yields a lot of stunning results, like this one:


As if that outing wasn't inspiring enough, our next stop was Dr. Evermor's Scrap Metal Park, where we walked amid hundreds of brilliant sculptures of birds, robots, and the Forevertron, the largest scrap metal sculpture in the world, which looks eerily like a doomsday device that's fallen into disrepair.

Sunday was beautiful, and we set out on what was intended to be a "short, easy" hike, which took a turn towards "long and difficult" when we failed to find the actual trail entrance (I blame the map's lack of detail) and somehow ended up hiking bits and pieces of pretty much every one of the interconnected trails on the bluffs and cliffs above Devil's Lake. Even though we probably looked a little out of place as we scrambled and picked our way up and down the jagged rocks in swimsuits (me) and cowboy boots (Travis), some of us pausing for smoke breaks (Tony) along the trail, the hikers outfitted in all kinds of fancy gear couldn't have had more fun than we did. While the highlight of Travis' hiking experience was probably when we spied a baby red squirrel eating a giant red mushroom he held in his little person-hands, I think my favorite part was sharing dizzying vistas high above the treetops with the circling turkey vultures at a natural rock formation called Devil's Doorway, or maybe identifying the myriad mushroom species we spotted in the damp leaf litter along the trail.

Devil's Doorway and the Lake below. None of these photos are mine, unfortunately! I'll try to post some of our pics soon.

Today I realized it's the last week of July already, which means the end of "High Summer" and the beginning of Lammastide. As many of you know, in spite of my lack of affiliation with any organized religion, I take a lot of pleasure in practicing the ancient rites associated with the turning of the seasons. The transition of High Summer into Lammastide (or Harvest Time, if you prefer) is marked by the Pagan holiday of Lammas, or Loaf Mass, on August 1st. Several years ago, I wrote a little book as a resource for myself or anyone else who enjoys celebrating these holidays, and this is an excerpt about Lammas:

"Nearly every culture throughout history has traditions and rituals tied to the harvest. After all, the survival of an entire community relied on the success of the harvest and whether or not there was grain enough to see them through the lean times of winter. In our modern world, where food seems to appear spontaneously upon grocery store shelves, it is easy to forget that what we are eating had its origins in the ground. Lammas is about remembering that it is essentially the Earth that gives us life, and our survival.

Around the same time that Lammas was being celebrated in Europe, on the other side of the world, the Hopi Indians celebrated the Green Corn ceremony in order to give thanks for the harvest and to purify themselves for another ritual year. People cleaned their homes and fasted in order to cleanse their bodies and spirits. According to Kavasch & Baar, “Renewal and forgiveness were, and continue to be, the touchstones of the Green Corn rites.”

Lammastide begins during the last week of July. This is a good time to go camping or to take a trip to the country in order to witness first-hand the bounty nature gives us at this time: the corn ripening in the field, flowers beginning to go to seed, baby geese nearly grown and readying for their first autumn migration... It is hard to imagine that winter lurks right around the corner, but the days are already getting shorter and soon it will be time for children to start preparing to return to school. Hence, it is a good time to clean the house and to purify one's space by burning sage and incense. Decorate with fresh summer flowers. Spend some time in the garden on the day the feast shall take place, meditating on the delicate and miraculous balance of life on earth, and giving thanks for the things that grow and sustain us. If no garden is available, visit the local farmer's market and appreciate the bounty displayed there. On the eve of the celebration, burn ceremonial incense and allow no harsh electric lights to be used after 6pm. Bake a bread man as described in Aereaus' diary entry*, including (if possible) herbs harvested from the home garden. Serve a special dinner whose menu includes many other items from the garden (or local farmer's market). During the ceremony, toast to long life and continued prosperity, break the bread man and, during the meal, reflect on the high points of summer."

*A bread man is a loaf of bread, baked with the first grains of the new harvest and fashioned into the shape of a man. This loaf represents the grain/solar god of ancient Europe, who is thought to give his life every year as a sacrifice for our continued survival.

A depiction of Lugh, the Grain God, being sacrificed at the harvest.

This Lammas dinner, I will certainly have a lot to reflect upon! Visiting friends and family, pursuing my passion at school, and spending long days in the woods - it's been quite a summer.

A Tour of my Garden

After a brief blog hiatus, I am back and ready again to share my escapades. As usual, most of them are food-related.

Julie's kitchen herbs: creeping thyme, sage, lemon grass, and chamomile, to name a few.

Let me start by saying the garden is looking amazing these days. The peas are mostly done, but still pop out a pod here or there, which I usually just eat right off the vine. I made a few mistakes with the peas -- the biggest being I didn't plant enough! Also, I've learned that peas, being one of the first plants to send out sweet, succulent shoots during a time when relatively little else is growing, are irresistible to rabbits. After trying every other method I could think of (predator urine, some organic repellent called "Bunny Barrier" that I'm pretty sure was composed of the ground-up carcasses of other rabbits, CD's on strings, pinwheels, and chili pepper spray), I've resigned myself to the fact that a physical barrier is the only surefire way of keeping bunnies out. Julie thinks chicken wire is ugly -- and I agree -- but my small yield was probably due to the fact that the bunnies all the leaves as soon as they emerged from the ground, and it took the poor plants at least two weeks to recover and grow new ones.

Julie's black violas - small but striking.

Anyway, the peas are done, the kale is getting woody, the spinach is long since past and the lettuces are bolting, but that's okay, because the leviathan squash plant that was once an innocent little seedling in my windowsill has completely taken over that part of the garden.

"Oak Leaf" lettuce, getting ready to bolt. The giant leaves in the background belong to the encroaching yellow squash.

Cucumbers are climbing, and thorny little junior pickles are happily multiplying.

Fair Physalis, or "Peruvian Golden Berry" Groundcherry, loved by me and every Japanese beetle in the garden.

My groundcherry, the mystery fruit that nobody can tell me much about, is putting out delicate, lantern-like husks every day. Its leaves are downy-soft and it has morning glory-esque black-eyed flowers; it would be a wonderful ornamental if the Japanese beetles hadn't completely disfigured it! Also, the plant receiving more light seems to be doing better than those subjected to some shade - a note for future groundcherry gardening.

Calendula (aka: "Pot Marigold") on the left of the path, and regular marigolds on the right. Calendula is a great companion plant for just about anything.

Calendula is a workhorse of a flower and I pick handfuls of blossoms every other day, which are currently drying in my kitchen (calendula is good for making soaps and ointments). I started these indoors from seed, and they took off magnificently in the border as soon as I planted them.

Basils - "Purple Ruffles" on the left and Holy Basil on the right. Its flower spikes attract pollinators.

Basil is another plant I can count on to harvest every day. We have about seven varieties, but I really only end up using the purple ("Opal" and "Purple Ruffles") or basic Italian ("Italian Large-Leaf") varieties on a regular basis.

"Peacevine" cherry tomatoes - so-called because their high antioxidant content is supposed to foster a feeling of inner peace!

The real show-stoppers right now are the tomatoes. They are beastly. My two cherry tomatoes ("Peacevine" is the name of the cultivar) are becoming downright problematic. They refuse to stay in their cages, sending out new runners faster than I can prune! Their taste is phenomenal - the best cherry tomatoes I've ever eaten. I'll for sure be growing them again next year, but I won't be putting them in a position where they can shade other plants, like my poor, stunted peppers. My "Calwonder" organic bell pepper has yielded exactly one pepper, "King of the North," zero, and my random purple pepper doesn't even have a flower. The jalapenos are doing well -- I'm sure the squirrel that tried to steal one now thinks twice about messing with this potent little plant!

"Early Jalapeno," flanked by "Siam Queen" and "Opal" basil. The basil is a good companion plant for peppers and tomatoes, and looks pretty in the border.

"Purple Russian" is the ugly stepsister of the group, with her curled leaves and stringy stems, and yet she is flowering and setting fruit just as reliably as the much prettier "Brandywine" plants that I lovingly started from seed.

Brandywine, thought to be one of the best-tasting tomatoes, is also the prettiest!

They have "potato-leaf" foliage, and our neighbor admitted she didn't know what they were until they started flowering!

"Roma" tomatoes -- an old stand-by with loads of pear-shaped little fruits.

"Roma," the only hybrid I'm growing, is producing almost as prolifically as my Peacevines, which surprises me a bit since I started the Roma seeds as a bit of an afterthought, and they're about two weeks younger than the other tomatoes I started from seed. I've been feeding every other week (or when I remember) with "Mater Magic," and watering only when the plants start to look stressed. I have quickly become convinced that Mater Magic is indeed magic, especially when combined with all this heat, humidity, and rain that we've been getting this summer!

Above is a typical day's harvest for early July. We're just starting to get summer squash and there's more basil than we know what to do with. As we transition into the hottest summer days, we say farewell to salad season and eagerly anticipate pestos and marinaras to come!