August Moon

Grain Moon, Green Corn Moon, Red Moon, August Moon, Blueberry Moon, Full Sturgeon Moon, Blue Moon. All magnificent names, each significant to someone or none at all. One glorious sight.

Full moons always astound me. There is something so beautiful about the light of the moon falling across a pasture, illuminating the lingering flights of horseflies and bats. This August moon is especially lovely. The mild summer that we have had here on the plains made tonight perfect for "moon watching".  I anticipated the moon's appearance all evening. We listened to murder ballads and blues albums and I read a collection of American folk tales. I went to bed and set my alarm for "early".

Ginger and I sat outside in the wee hours, when you can just smell the morning coming, and I watched the moon slowly set. I sipped a cup of coffee between glances to the sky. I allowed my mind to wander as I watched that moon sink low and the morning stars faded.

I thought about this great big ol'earth and our stewardship thereof. I thought about the plants and animals under our care. I thought about dirt, and the bees, and the smell of sweet rain, and drought. I thought about the miracle of sprouting flowers and the wonder of holding their root systems in your hands. I thought about the fish in the sea and the birds in the air. I began to feel downright tiny and full of wonder.

Mint Oh, My!

Thwarting our north-facing exposure our little hanging basket of mint has thrived (as mint is want to do). But as most mint growers know, when you have mint, you have a lot of it. Not wanting to waste a single gloriously fragrant leaf, we have been looking for ways to use our mint. So, we started by researching cocktails. Now the obvious choice is a Mint Julep, but here is a confession, Grant and I hate Mint Juleps. Instead we discovered the Ellison, a delicious and simple gin-based cocktail.

Gather These:

Thin cucumber slices (average about 4 per serving)
Mint leaves (about 4-5 per serving)
3/4 ounces lime juice
3/4 ounces simple syrup (or Raw sugar)
1 1/2 ounces of your favorite gin
Lime wedge for garnish

Method:

Muddle half the cucumbers and mint leaves with the simple syrup
Add some ice and top with the gin and lime juice
Garnish with remaining mint, cucumber, and lime wedge.

Cheers.

Musing

Season's End

Today I said good-bye to my faithful bamboo plant. My mom bought him for me when I started college. He survived six moves, college dorms, apartments, rent houses, and our first home (well, really, just another apartment...but whatever). I thought that he was just browning like bamboo plants are want to do on occasion. However, I was wrong. The poor thing was not going to come back. It was sad to extract him from his vase and rinse off the rocks that had cradled his roots.

However, today was not all sadness. I planted four new plants on our balcony. Two ferns, a blue plantain lily, and purple coral bells. Our balcony is starting to look thoroughly cheerful again, and just in time for the summer season. I took my afternoon tea outside after I had finished planting. It felt downright decadent!

Wise Words

"If you want to live in a rose-covered cottage, then you have to be willing to get a little dirty and plant the damn things yourself."

-Co-worker of mine a few years ago.

A Bit of Earth and Faith

Today is the first truly warm day of the year. The crabapple trees have started to bloom and their branches are heavy with buds. Birds are singing, actually singing (!), as they alight from tree to tree.
The breeze is a breath of fresh air, pushing the smell of spring into the city.

And today is the day that I decided to clean off our balcony and prepare for spring plantings. I find that cleaning out this space is both a physical and emotional activity. Sweeping the floorboards, dusting off the bench and table, putting fresh candles in the candle holders, and changing burned out lightbulbs. Softening the soil, pulling out old growth from last season, adding nutrients and compost to it.

In doing all of these things I am anticipating and meditating on the fact that new things will emerge from this effort. Plants will take root and flourish. New green life will come again from the grey winter season. Regeneration and the promise of renewal is the faith of gardeners. All those who work in the dirt share this sense of promise and purpose.

Gardens provide comfort and calm, they bear nourishment, are inherently beautiful and wild, provide shade in the heat and respite for our souls. Did you know that even in the ghettos of World War II and in the Japanese internment camps, that people planted gardens? They were probably small, maybe these "gardens" were just flowering weeds in a container, but they were symbols of hope...a promise. For those that were trapped, in a world no longer in their control, those gardens were a bit of earth to call their own.

When Grant and I moved to a new town at the beginning of the winter season, I thought our world was ugly and I could picture nothing beautiful. The stress of being newly married, broke, and jobless did not help. But by early spring we had found our feet and I remember one day leaving school and buying plants, out of nowhere. It must have been a day like today, that first touch of spring that compelled me to do it. I worked on the balcony for hours, starting from scratch. I collected rocks from the roads in our apartment complex to irrigate the bottom of my new pots. Breaking up the new soil and carefully pouring it into the pots so as not to spill it onto our downstairs neighbor's porch. Hanging and filling our bird feeder that was a wedding gift. And last, smelling the watered plants as I swept up, a sensory experience that has always been one of my favorites. I remember sitting on the floor amidst my new plants as the sun set and thinking "this will be good, we will make it good".

Our balcony garden is small. I am limited as to what I can plant because it does not receive direct sunlight. Not everything I plant grows. Only hardy plants tend to survive despite my best efforts. But this small, shady balcony garden is mine. It is my bit of earth, my piece of heaven.