Past the Midpoint

It occurred to me last week that August 7th was the midpoint of summer. We are past the middle and on our way to the end. Midsummer is a glorious time, especially for wild flowers. I love wild flowers. On my daily walks and anytime we drive, I always watch the roadsides to see what is blooming (which is why my family doesn’t let me do the driving). I mark the passing of the seasons by what is blooming along the verges of roads, from the first yellow colt’s foot in March, to the last goldenrod and aster in October. Last week as I walked along highway 49 between the beaver pond and Burrell’s, I noted the wild flowers in bloom with all their colors: blue chicory (Cichorium intybus), white Queen Anne’s lace (Daucus carota), orange jewelweed (Impatiens capensis), yellow bird’s foot trefoil (Lotus corniculatus), yellow St. Johnswort (Hypericum perforatum), purple Joe Pye weed (Eutrochium pupurea), yellow evening primrose (Oenothera biennis), white and pink mallows (Malva moschata), purple heal-all (Prunella vulgaris), pink wild sweet peas (Lathyrus latifolius), pink crown vetch (Securigera varia), white daisy fleabane (Erigeron annuus), white oxeye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare), purple knapweed (Centaurea jacea), yellow mullein (Verbascum thapsus), purple bull thistle (Cirsium vulgare), purple teasel (Dipsacus fullonum), and the first of the yellow goldenrods  (Solidago) and purple New York asters (Aster Novi-belgii). I love their Latin binomial nomenclature – it makes them sound magical. Wild flowers bring form and color that enlivens the landscape. But it occurred to me as I walked along, that most of these are not native North American plants and many are considered highly invasive – plants that proliferate and disrupt ecosystems by overtaking native flora. Many of them were introduced as garden flowers, food crops, or medicinal herbs that escaped into the wild. In fact, of the plants I just listed, only evening primrose, jewelweed, Joe Pye weed, fleabane, goldenrod, and asters are native plants. The rest came from Europe, Asia, and Africa. Not all non-native plants are considered dangerous invasive species. Despite my ecological conservatism, I’m rather fond of some of them. I can’t imagine a spring without colt’s foot or dames rocket or a summer without chicory and Queen Anne’s lace gracing the verges. Some highly toxic non-native plants, like wild parsnip and giant hogweed, I will not tolerate and I destroy them if they try to grow on my property. And then there are the non-native weeds that plague me in the garden like galinsoga, purslane, chickweed, and corn speedwell.

Some roadside flowers: St. Johnswort, heal-all, asters, fleabane, evening primrose, chicory, Queen Anne's lace, teasel.

Chicory along highway 49.

This year the teasels on the embankments are especially beautiful. They are biennial plants that grow to be six or seven feet tall. They are prickly plants with an egg-shaped spiny flower head (technically called a peduncle) covered with tiny purple flowers that open in rings. Originally from Europe, teasels were brought to North America because they were used in making textiles. The spiky dried flower heads were used to tease up the nap in woolen cloth – hence their name, teasel. Birds love to eat their seeds and, despite being non-native, I love to see a stand of them growing along a roadside.

One of the finest floral spectacles right now is not wild, it’s sunflowers planted in the fields near Colesburg. They are just starting to bloom and they are beautiful. I have sunflowers in my garden that are blooming now too. Besides the sunflowers there are other splashes of color in my flowerbeds – helenium, zinnias, and the last and most sweetly scented of my lilies. The tall phlox are at their peak of bright beauty and fragrance now.

Sunflowers near Colesburg.

Same field, different angle.

Sunflower in my garden.

Another sunflower.

Helenium.

Zinnias.

The last lilies.

Different colors of phlox.

Speaking of fragrance, two Thursdays ago I began to notice a bad smell while working out in the garden. It smelled like rotting flesh and every day it grew stronger and stronger. Then that Saturday morning we spotted a turkey vulture sitting in a tree across the road and we knew something big was dead over there. Miriam and I went exploring and found a dead deer about twenty feet from the road in the tall weeds. We’re not sure what happened to it. The doe and fawn that maraud in my garden are still here. I see them all the time. This dead deer looked like another large doe. We thought perhaps it got hit by a car and then wandered into the weeds and died. However it came to be there, the stench of it was so bad that by Sunday we couldn’t have the house windows open. Being in the garden, unless the wind was blowing away toward the north, was unbearable. Finally, on Monday, I couldn’t stand it anymore. Thankfully we have great neighbors who have great machines. I called our neighbor Neal and he came down with his tractor and buried it. It was nice to be outside again without gagging.

The source of the stink.

On Monday afternoon we picked peas. The vines are starting to die now and are nearing the end of their production. We will only get a few more pickings. They gave us a plentiful harvest this year. We spent most of the evening shelling them. On Tuesday morning, I blanched and froze them. I also harvested the last of Kurt’s huge cauliflowers and blanched and froze that too. Our next big harvests will be onions and tomatoes. The onion tops are starting to flop and the tomato vines are loaded with fruit that’s beginning to ripen.

The last cauliflower.

Peas ready to freeze.

Blanched cauliflower ready to freeze.

I grow dill every year, but not for myself. I grow it for my friend Stan Atherholt, who makes the best garlic dill pickles I’ve ever eaten. I’ve made pickles plenty of times in the past, and they have never been as good as Stan’s. It’s pickle making time now and Stan came by on Monday evening to pick dill. I think he must make a hundred quarts of pickles every summer. We have an excellent arrangement – I supply him with dill and he supplies us with pickles. The dill is especially nice this year. It’s about six feet tall and seems to be particularly potent.

Dill.

While I don’t make pickles, we do make pickle relish. On Wednesday we decided to make our first batch of the season. I had a lot of newly harvested onions and some bell peppers big enough to pick and a drawer full of cucumbers that had accumulated in the fridge. The recipe I use was given to me by my neighbor Brownie Stilson the first year we lived here. Brownie has been gone for twenty years now, but his famous relish lives on. We set up the grinder up in the work room and sliced up and ground cucumbers, onions, and peppers. We really missed Josiah while we were grinding. That’s been his job for many years. That evening I salted the mash and let it sit over night. Thursday morning I drained it, added the sugar, vinegar, and spices, cooked it up, and canned it. It made eleven pints. There will be more batches as summer moves on. Maybe Josiah will be home to help with the next one.

Grinding relish.

Pickle relish ready to cook and can.

My daily activities are heavily influenced by the weather and I watch the sky and forecasts carefully. On Tuesday morning I thought rain was coming because of the old adage, “Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning,” which is usually pretty accurate. When I went out at sunrise, the sky was red, which means there is moisture in the air and a low pressure system is coming and that usually means rain. I really wanted it to rain and, believing it would, I went out to get as much work done as I could before it would arrive. I harvested some onions and set them to cure. I cleaned out two of my raised beds. I planted some lettuce seed. I weeded. By the time I finished the afternoon chores, the wind had picked up, thick clouds were rolling in, the sky grew dark, and I felt for sure the rain was coming. I sat on the front porch and read for a bit while waiting, but it never came.

Red sky in the morning.

But it didn't rain that day.

Wednesday morning there was no red sky – there was no sort of sunrise at all. It was a gloomy morning with heavy, overcast skies. The air was warm and very humid. Because it hadn’t rained yet, I considered watering the gardens by hand. They were dry. But I didn’t want to spend an hour or two doing that just to have it rain later. So I put off watering all day. Around noon the sky started to clear. Where was the rain? Sarah had reported a downpour in Toledo that morning. Down south at the Thayn’s house it had poured. But nothing here. So I decided to tempt Nature and maybe force her hand by mowing the lawn. That usually brings on the rain. But not this time. At 4:00 I gave up waiting and dragged the hose out and watered the long border, the vegetable garden, and the flowerbeds at the front of the house. I went out to the big garden and turned on the drip line to the tomatoes. It never did rain.

Thursday morning was another gray and gloomy morning. I checked the weather forecast and it said we had a 60% chance for a thunderstorm. The forecast had been off all week. None of the predicted rain had fallen. I thought Thursday’s thunderstorm would be another no show. After making pickle relish all morning, I decided to go out and thin apples. It was warm and humid and the air was very still. There were cicadas buzzing high up in the maple trees – one of my favorite summer sounds. Then around 10:30, the cicadas went quiet and I heard the first distant rumblings of thunder. The sky grew dark and I headed back into the house. I made it just in time. At 10:35 it began to pour. I went out on the front porch and sat and watched it fall. The lightning and thunder became quite intense as the storm moved over us. It lasted an hour and then the sky cleared. Then, as if to compensate for all the times it was supposed to rain but didn’t during the week, we had two big thunderstorms with downpours on Friday afternoon and another during that night. The rain was a great blessing – not that we’re parched here, but water from the sky rather than from the ground is always better.

The rain on Friday knocked over my already top-heavy gladiolus, so yesterday morning I cut them and brought them into the house. They have been especially beautiful this year. I’ve decided that next year I will plant an entire bed of nothing but glads to make bouquets.

Bouquets of gladioli.

Stacey brought home a box of peaches on Wednesday. I’ve been asked before what my favorite fruit is and it’s a hard question to answer. When the strawberries or raspberries are ripe, they are my favorite fruit. If you cut up a ripe pineapple for me, I’ll tell you while I’m devouring it that pineapple is my favorite fruit. And apples hold a special place in my heart. But ripe peaches might really be my favorite fruit. They were last week anyway. That evening, Miriam made peach ice cream out of some of them. The rest we decided to make into jam. Friday morning I blanched them, mashed them, and turned them into delectable jam. The aroma of the cooking peaches was wonderful. Now I want some good buttered salt rising toast to spread it on.

Peach jam, pickle relish, and sourdough bread.

Miriam has become an expert at making sourdough bread. She bakes several loaves a week and we love it. She got her starter from Sarah who has had it for seven years and she in turn got it from the MGM Grand when she worked there and they got it from Wolfgang Puck, so this sourdough starter goes back many years. The bread is delicious. I told Miriam that now that she has mastered sourdough, she should try her hand at salt rising bread. Salt rising bread is also a yeast-less bread made from a starter made by fermenting milk, cornmeal, sugar, and salt. It is a stinky starter and the bread itself smells kind of cheesy, but salt rising toast is one of the most delicious things I know of. Toasted crisp, buttered, and smeared with jelly or jam – I salivate just thinking about it.

Yesterday was a typical Saturday except there was just the two of us here. There were errands, chores, and all the usual preparations for the Sabbath to do. I got a haircut. I mowed the lawn and worked in the garden. Stacey did laundry and worked on food preparation. While we were out and about we drove over the hill beyond Ulysses to the farm where the Amish bulk food store is. The Brennemans, whose farm it is, have been cutting oats and the shocks were drying in the fields. It was a perfect scene from a perfect summer Saturday.

After the rains.

A large puffball mushroom in the orchard.

The Brenneman farm.

We’ve arrived at one of those times when it seems everyone is coming and going. The Shilligs arrived home on Wednesday evening. We’re so happy they are home again. Kurt has resumed his careful watch over the big garden. Miriam and Hannah left on Friday to go down to the Thayns. The Thayns just arrived home last Sunday night from two weeks out west at Tabor’s family’s reunion. On their way home, they picked up Josiah from school and brought him to their house. Then yesterday that whole group – Miriam, Hannah, Rachel and her girls, and Josiah – drove to North Carolina. Tomorrow they will meet up with Sarah who is flying in from Toledo. Our big family reunion is this week and they all went a few days early. Stacey and I are driving down on Tuesday evening. Tabor will fly out to join us on Thursday. We have family traveling from all over the country to be there. We will be home again on Saturday night. While we are gone this week, Kurt and Julie will take over caring for my gardens and my flock. This reunion is the big event of the summer. I’ll tell you all about it in next week’s Journal.

Dan