What a month. What. a. month!
It went something like this: Week one, traipse through the snow in Tahoe. (Have you seen the video of my baby snowboarding in Tahoe Donner? Twelve months old and already riding like she’s too cool for school.) Week two, brave an 8,000-mile flight to Vietnam with a baby and sweat buckets in the tropics. Week three, watch my crawling baby turn into a walking toddler while visiting pagodas in Myanmar. Week four, take aforementioned toddler for her first swim in the South China Sea. Week five, come home to the first egg from the new flock (it’s blue!) and a wildly weedy garden.
In early spring, before my basil has grown big enough to harvest, I usually buy them as “living herbs” in the supermarket. You’ve seen them in the produce aisle: the fresh herbs in little pots with their roots still attached.
The logic behind these living herbs is that they stay fresher longer than the cut sprigs sold in clamshells. I’ll sometimes keep mine on the windowsill for up to three weeks, pinching off a stem here and there while I’m cooking. For most people, however, the herbs have already keeled over by this point. Living herbs are produced with the ordinary consumer in mind, so they aren’t meant to last more than a week or two.
I’ve been gardening, blogging, and living here for the last seven years, yet this is the first time I’ve ever done a garden tour. Needless to say, it’s been long overdue!
I think I’ve always held back because there were often other things I wanted to do first to get the garden “camera ready.” Things like blowing the leaves, raking the paths, rebuilding the beds, waiting for plants to grow bigger and better or putting in new plants and waiting for those to grow bigger and better. A working garden is neverending, right?
Over the years, I’ve had many readers ask for a good overview shot of the garden to get a sense of how everything is laid out.
I’ve attempted this a few times, but never felt that the pictures painted an accurate view, as the entire property sits on a steep hill and the yard is terraced the whole way down.
So, what better way to show the property than from a bird’s eye view?
Above: My last trip to Vietnam in 2008.
By the time you read this, I’ll have flown across the Pacific and be sitting in a Vietnamese sidewalk cafe, drinking an ice-cold glass of cafe sua da while people-watching and nursing my jetlag.
Confession: I never knew how many animals roamed the night until I moved into a house with a yard that was a veritable buffet for said animals.
Raccoons, opossums, skunks, even coyotes and foxes — all of them are common sightings in my neighborhood and a real problem for residents with edible gardens, nicely mulched landscapes, or small cats and dogs.
Our beautiful Barred Rock, Kimora, passed away on March 6, 2017. She was five years old, more than middle-aged by chicken standards, but you couldn’t tell by looking at, interacting with, or hearing her. She was loud and proud, especially after a good egg-laying session, and was as spry as the day we brought her home.
The five little things that made my week…
1. The first strawberries of the season. I wish I could tell you how scrumptious they were, but by the time I went back to harvest a few, they were gone. All of them, poof! like magic. And someone with chubby dimpled hands and a suspicious strawberry juice mustache was giggling nearby.
The ever-pervasive dandelion. It’s one of the first plants to sprout in spring, when the ground is barely free of frost, and remains steadfast through the season with vibrant pops of yellow and downy balls of seeds so nostalgic of childhood wonderment.
Somehow, somewhere along the way, this humble plant that has fed and healed humanity for thousands of years became a blight on our landscape. Dismissed as a weed, eradicated at all costs, cursed and scorned for its stubbornly long taproots that often refuse to give from the earth, it’s earned a reputation for invasiveness and uselessness.