What Size is Your Flower Pot?

Our summer salads making their debut at the Parris House.

I’ve been thinking a lot about pots lately.  I recently started my seedlings for this summer’s garden (yes, I know it’s terribly late, even for zone 5 in Maine) and after just a couple of days, the mixed salad greens have sprouted.  I love this particular mix, by Pinetree Garden Seeds right here in Maine, for its variety of flavors and colors.  As I looked at the tiny seedlings this morning, some of which will have to be thinned out, I thought, “There are this summer’s bountiful fresh salads, right there in that tray.”  I was projecting them in to their future, though right now they are the tiniest of sprouts.

This weekend I’ll be working on the raised beds, getting them ready to accept the seedlings that are only now emerging in my trays and for the seeds that are sown directly in to the soil.  For us, in this climate, planting time happens in the very last days of May or the first days of June.  Our growing season – at least without the aid of greenhouses and other warming equipment – is short and we have to make the most of it.  By September, and certainly by October, we’re harvesting the last of things save for hardy kales and the like, and winter squashes and pumpkins.

People who know me well know that I can find life analogies in almost everything, so here we go…

Right now these little divided pots my seedlings are being born in to are fine for them.  In fact, I would go as far as to say they are right for them.  They are providing a small space where the plants are watched over, nurtured, and not overrun by nature in a larger environment.  Some seeds don’t require this small space at the outset and can be planted in the bigger expanse of the garden or raised bed right away.  Seeds are all different, but one thing is sure:  very few seeds are meant to grow in a confined space forever.  My little salad greens will never become robust, zesty, hardy, ready-to-bolt-if-not-picked-in-time food producers if left in those little pots.  And – you saw it coming – it’s the same for us, and I think we know it.  We know when we are becoming metaphorically pot bound, when we can’t expand, when we can’t grow.  We know when we can’t breathe, when we’re thirsty, when the nutrients are scarce, both literally and figuratively.  It’s the way we’re made.  What to do when our pots are too small?  The garden continues to provide guidance.

These little salad sprouts are going to need thinning.  Of all the gardening tasks there are, this is the most painful for me.  I just hate thinning plants.  Hate it.  I know it has to be done so that the remaining plants are hale and hearty, with plenty of space to grow, growth being the objective, after all, but I can not completely shake the guilt of killing off the sacrificial plants.   It can not be too long delayed, lest the roots be intertwined and you damage the primary plants when you pull the others.  It is always harder to thin later.  Best to do it as soon as it’s required.

As it turns out, I hate thinning my life too, or at least, I used to.  As with thinning my seedlings, I’m starting to take comfort in the wisdom of it and know that it’s the only path for growth.   What I say “no” to is becoming as important as what I say “yes” to these days.  Some thinning is quick and painless.  For example, this morning I uninstalled Twitter from my phone.  I still have my @ParrisHouseWool Twitter account, but I don’t have to have the app on my phone.  I can visit it intentionally and with a purpose when I want to share something (for example, this blog post) and eliminate it as a distraction on my phone.   In a similar way, I can set my phone aside or in another room when I want an undisturbed block of time to write or do making work.  I can tell people – again – that email is the very best, by a large margin, way to reach me and stick to that as my preferred mode of communication.  Other things are less easily plucked and have to instead be moved through and out of the time pipeline.  Commitments made in “yes” mode have to be honored, but not renewed if they are not consistent with your life’s primary goals.  Once out of your time pipeline they have to become “no”s.   When “yes” feels like an obligation or a “should” but is not coming from a deep place of purpose in your life, say “no” and do not second guess it.  Say “no” and move forward with your remaining “yes” activities.   If you have a task or obligation that for some reason you can not eliminate, find help with it, paid or unpaid as the case may be, but exhaust all other options to weed it out before you do.

Still feeling pot bound after a good round of saying “no” and thinning the field?  Maybe you need a bigger pot.  I’m not talking about buying a four thousand square foot house.  I’m talking about living your life in a way that expands it.  Do not be afraid to plant yourself in a bigger environment if the one you’re in feels restrictive or is not providing for your needs or dreams, and do not be afraid to be afraid.  I had to learn this the hard way and have still not completely mastered it.   Three examples from my own life come vividly to mind.  The first is when I decided to take my work in person to Josh and Brent of Beekman 1802 to ask if I might become part of their artisan collective.  The second was when I was invited to teach at the Squam Art Workshops among a field of teachers I regarded as having much stronger credentials than mine.  The third was just recently, when I went out to Down East Books to meet my editor for the book I am currently writing.   In all of these cases I saw opportunities to plant myself in a bigger pot, and in all cases I was so nervous I was physically ill:  heart palpitations, nausea, GI upset I’ll leave to your imagination, feeling faint, sleeplessness the night before, all of it.  Train wreck status, really.  I knew I was nervous and afraid, even if I couldn’t pinpoint why (well, probably lots of past conditioning, but this is not the space for psychoanalysis), but I was hell bent on doing these things anyway.  I have found that the level of reward of doing something is almost always proportional to the level of blowing through the self imposed limitations, in this case, fear, required to get it done.  Related to this is that you don’t have to know up front every detail of how you’ll get whatever it is done.  You just have to start, have a general plan, and then do the steps as they present themselves.   Get in to that bigger pot or garden bed so you can thrive, even though that move is going to be uncomfortable and even though you can not – will never be able to – completely predict the outcome.

Your flower pot can almost always be bigger.  I know very little about ceramics, but I can see by watching my husband make pottery that sometimes a pot comes out small even if there’s plenty of clay on the wheel to make it bigger.  Sometimes this is because the potter didn’t draw it up and thin it out to its optimal size, leaving it somewhat stunted and leaden in its finished form.  The clay was there; it just wasn’t optimized.   But this a post based on gardening analogies, not pottery making analogies, so we’ll leave that there.

Part of last year’s Parris House garden harvest.

In the time it’s taken me to write this post, the pickling cucumber plants in my trays have also emerged just a little more from beneath the potting soil.  Their insistent progress even in the span of an hour or so inspires me, and it will be with great expectation that I plant them in the bigger space that they both need and deserve in just a few week’s time.  Today’s brave emergence is tomorrow’s harvest, for plants and for us.

In both a literal and metaphorical sense, what are you growing this year, and how much space are you going to need?

Happy gardening and happy hooking.   – Beth

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Gray Gardening Day in May plus the Parris House’s Honey Lemon (or Lime) Mint Tea Recipe

Today I put in most of the plantings for the Parris House vegetable and herb garden.  As some of you who follow me on social media may recall, around the time I was planning to start my seedlings, our local water utility burst an underground water main directly in front of our home, sending thousands of gallons of water in to the basement.  Unfortunately, this is the area where I usually have seedlings set up with grow lights.  The basement was a complete wreck and the cleanup and recovery have taken a couple of months, so…this year…no seedlings.

Fortunately, Smedberg’s Crystal Spring Farm in Oxford, Maine always has a huge variety of vegetable and herb seedlings, so this year, that was my solution.  I am usually picky with my seeds, selecting a lot of heirloom varieties, but this year growing my own plants was off the table and, having used Smedberg’s plants at times in the past, I know I will not be disappointed with my harvest.

I got the following in to the garden this morning, even though the weather on this Memorial Day is gray, cold, and frankly miserable:  tomatoes (three varieties), bell peppers, banana peppers, swiss chard, kale, eggplant, slicing cucumbers, pickling cucumbers, lavender, basil, thyme, rosemary, and oregano.  I have a good sized spearmint plant potted and over near the kitchen door, because let’s face it, that’s an invasive and if I put that in my raised beds it will party on until it’s filled them up.  Also, our rhubarb has come up once again and it’s really time (maybe past time) to cut some of that and make something delicious with it.  There’s still work to do, even though it’s getting so late in the season.  I still plan to add some dye/flowering plants to the herb bed and also to the container area near the house.  My husband put up the electric fence for me again this year and our stalwart plastic owl is standing guard as he has for many years (successfully) now.   In looking over my plant selections I’m pretty sure my Italian DNA is showing.

Here are a few pics of the fledgling vegetable garden.  I assure you that in a month or so, this is going to be lush and just starting to put off some food, that is IF it’s ever warm and sunny for more than a day or two at a time this spring.  I’m starting to wonder.

I really couldn’t resist taking some of the spearmint, even though the plant is relatively young and small.  I love mint in my iced tea and I make my iced tea a particular way.   The recipe is right here for you, if you’d like to give it a try.  Let me put forth the following caveats.  I do not like my iced tea very sweet (sorrynotsorry to those of you in the South; I know this is considered an abomination down there).  In fact, the only reason this recipe has honey in it is because a) I like the flavor of honey and b) I have bees and am about to extract my first load of honey (it will be called Tovookan’s honey and will be for sale – watch for it) in the next few weeks.  It wouldn’t be ok for me to not use it in my tea, after all.  Since I don’t have my own yet, the honey shown in the pic is from Beekman 1802, and it’s delicious.  What I do not like is for sweetness to obliterate the flavor of a really good tea.  Second caveat is that I like my tea like I like my coffee – so strong you could stand a spoon in it.  Please adjust for your own taste.   Third caveat (hello, Canadian friends!) – I am using King Cole tea which my son James dutifully picks up every time he goes to visit his girlfriend in Nova Scotia.  This is a very popular Canadian tea that has ruined me for most other everyday teas, but if you can not procure this, just use your favorite.  Each King Cole tea bag is made to brew 2 cups, so you just have to double how many you use in your recipe.

1 half gallon Ball canning jar or a half gallon container of your choice  (but let’s face it, the canning jars are really cute)

3 King Cole Orange Pekoe tea bags OR 6 tea bags of your favorite tea

2-3 tablespoons honey or to taste (go ahead Southern friends, pour that jar upside down and count to 100)

1 lemon, cut in to quarters (lime is also tasty)

1 sprig of fresh mint, cut in to slices and put in to a tea ball

About 4 trays of ice (the Parris House icemaker broke about ten years ago, the repair guy said $600 to fix it – we use trays)

Fill your kettle with hot water and start it on the stove (or plug it in).  Meanwhile, put the honey in the bottom of the jar, and cut up your lemon and mint.  I don’t worry about the lemon seeds, but if they’ll bother you, remove them.  I put my mint pieces in to a tea ball so that I don’t have to fish them out of the tea later.  This may compromise the diffusion a little bit and you can certainly just put them in whole.  However, do NOT put them in the jar yet.

Once your water is boiling, fill the Ball jar to about a third with it and then stir the honey from the bottom until dissolved.  Add your tea bags, fill to about half with the hot water, and steep with the lid on for as long as you like.  As I said, I like my tea super strong, so I let it get plenty dark, about 10 or 15 minutes (ok, sometimes longer – yes, I know it can get bitter – yes, I kinda like that).  When steeped to your liking, remove the tea bags and add the ice.  Notice that I have not yet added the lemon and mint.  This is because I do not like the lemon to take on that “cooked” flavor that can happen when you’ve put the lemons in while the water is still too hot.  I also think it alters the freshness of the mint.  So I wait until most of the ice has melted and cooled and diluted the tea.

Once the water is not hot enough to alter the freshness of the lemon and mint (about room temperature), add those to the jar.  Let these flavor the tea for at least an hour or two.  I recommend getting them both out of the jar the same day, though, because I think the lemon starts to take on an odd flavor if left in the jar too long.   I store the tea in the fridge so that the flavors stay fresh and so that when I use it it’s very cold.

Unfortunately, today is not an iced tea day.  Today is a hot tea, hot coffee, or possibly even hot chocolate day here in Maine, replete with wood stove burning to knock the chill off.  But…I have to think iced tea days are coming, so try making it this way and let me know what you think.

Happy Memorial Day and happy hooking.

P.S.  I have not failed to observe Memorial Day; in fact, I am always deeply reverent of its origins and meaning.  If you follow me on Facebook you will have already seen a Memorial Day post I wrote for the Paris Hill Historical Society today.  Take a look by clicking HERE.  Thank you!

The Parris House Garden, Like a Tortoise. A Pictorial Trip Through.

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A moth takes a rest on one of our green bean blossoms.

One of our Parris House hookers, Edna Olmstead, is already harvesting and pressure canning green beans for the fall and winter.  Another said yesterday at Tuesday group that her tomatoes were in.  And, of course, the local farm stands, run by professional growers and farmers, are overflowing with produce.

Here at the Parris House our garden more resembles the tortoise, from the fable, The Tortoise and the Hare.  I’m not at all saying that my tortoise is going to win the gardening race.  It’s not.  But it will, save for some unforeseen early withering frost, come through in the end.

This was my first year teaching at the Squam Art Workshops in June.  I was in a bit of a tizzy preparing for it and I could not face putting the garden in before I got back, which was the second week of June.  Additionally, I had really wanted raised beds this year, and my husband and sons had not yet built them.  When I returned from Squam, like magic, the beds were in place.  The menfolk had built them in my absence.  We took a trip to Shaker Hill Landscape & Nursery in Poland Spring, Maine for a bit more soil and compost and I was ready to roll.  Very late, even by Maine standards, but ready.

The following pictures were taken on Monday, August 3rd.  I think what they show is promise.  Itty bitty beans on the vine, harvestable salad greens (we’ve had some; they’re delicious), modestly sized basil, pumpkin and squash blossoms, and more.  I think the biggest race against time out there is the corn, which is only past knee high at this juncture, but we all need a little suspense in our gardening, don’t we?

I will be teaching at Squam again next year, but will probably be more relaxed in my preparations.  The garden will go in earlier.  Five years ago I would have been beside myself with this year’s tortoise garden.  I know better now.  A lesson learned at Squam and in a million different ways in the steady growth of Parris House Wool Works:  it’s the process that matters most, one day at a time, doing everything you know how to do with heart and commitment and as much love as you can muster.  Those are the conditions for growth, even if you’re starting late in your season.

And now, some pictures…hope you all like green!

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The Parris House garden. That thing that looks like a bomb from the Roadrunner cartoon series is actually a composter, courtesy of my friend Renee Krajci. What the Parris House hens don’t get in vegetable and kitchen scraps, goes in there.
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I can not wait for these to ripen. Organic tomatoes given to me by my friend Eric Davis.
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More tomatoes – these look more Roma style – given me by Eric Davis.
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Pinetree Garden Seeds fantabulous salad green mix.
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Beets. These will get pickled and canned.
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Peas. Yes, that’s how late this garden is.
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Fresh beans and shell beans. We have green beans and purple beans (although they turn green when you cook them), Jacob’s Cattle Beans and Vermont Cranberry Beans.
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The purple ones are my favorite.
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More tomatoes, kale, and purple cabbage. The kale and purple cabbage were rescued from Smedberg’s Crystal Spring Farm late in the season, the last of their vegetable plants still for sale. I think they’ll be just fine. The corn is our suspense builder.
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Pumpkins. Or possibly a winter squash. I’m actually not sure.
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Purple cabbage.
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Kale.
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Garden owl keeps watch. He has a little help from the electric fence.
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Basil.
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The Parris House apple trees operate on their own schedule, so they’re not behind at all. They are utterly loaded this season. There will be many days spent canning and freezing apples this fall. A million thanks to Post Carbon Designs for trimming them so beautifully last winter.
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More apples.
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The day lilies have “gone by.”
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The giant hostas, which are always a delight for the bees, have also “gone by.”

Just yesterday in the Maine studio a relatively new hooker was lamenting on how slow she is in finishing projects (actually, she isn’t…but…you know…).  Another hooker immediately came to her defense, telling her to be patient, that this was normal in the beginning, and praising the work that she had done.  I also assured her that her future work would start to go more quickly.  Sometimes, we just have to be ok with the pace of things.  So it is with our late blooming garden.

I will post another story in about six weeks on how the harvest has gone, taking pics as we pull things in.  By then my favorite time of year will be in full swing!

Happy gardening, don’t worry if you’re a tortoise, and happy hooking! – Beth