The Apple Of My Eye!

 

"Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree today."

~ Becky Anderson 

There are two things I absolutely love about September: the start of football season and apple season! 

Yesterday I had my fill of NFL games and enjoyed every minute even if my favorite team didn't win it's first game. The fact that we even have a football season this year, even with no preseason games to get the guys ready and whet our appetites, is a gift and I will hang in there and root for every game in gratitude.

Today, however, what I refer to as my applesauce itch is starting to make itself known. That's when I get up one morning, breathe in the cool, crisp air, smell the apples sitting in the fruit bowl on my table, and think "is it too early to start making applesauce?" The answer in my case is, of course, it's never too early to start making applesauce. In fact it's never too early to start making apple everything as far as I'm concerned. I've already tasted my first slices of apple pie for the season and have been buying apples since the orchards have started delivering their wares, although it's hard to keep my fruit bowl filled as each visit from my youngest granddaughter and great-grandson seems to empty it. That's okay. I'd rather have to go out and buy more apples then see them munching away on unhealthy snacks. Besides, now that apple season is here, I love to have a reason to get out there and check out each variety.

I don't know what it is about apples that stirs my soul in such a way. Sure, they are delicious and versatile fruits with an apple for every cooking and baking need. They have a wonderful aroma that reminds me of apple picking with the kids when we were all younger and days spent in the kitchen together peeling, chopping, and cooking the apples, adding the brown sugar and cinnamon that I love. Ah, the smells that filled the house! The jars were all washed out and lined up on the table awaiting their precious cargo. But I think it's more than the tastes and the smells. I think it's another symbol of the season, of harvest time and glorious fall foliage, of looking up to the sights and sounds of geese flying in formation as they make their way to warmer climates, of Halloween and pumpkins. I think that this year, however, these things mean even more to me. With all that has been going on, it's all of these little, happy things that keep me and others going. It's having something to look forward to that brings a smile to your face even if it's just peeling apples and filling jars. It's saying to myself that if I go to all the trouble of peeling and cooking this apple, it means that I have hope for tomorrow and all the tomorrows to come, when I will be able to pull a jar out in the depths of winter and still enjoy the tastes and memories of fall. If an apple a day will keep the doctor away, as the old saying goes, maybe it will keep despair and hopelessness away as well. Maybe it's hope in a jar.

And so it is. 

Summer's Grand Finale

The season has come full circle in my tiny garden, from the first pictures I shared of empty pots, seed packets and bags of soil, to the beauty and bounty above. It took a few false starts and having to learn the lay of the land, (aka how this apartment used - or didn't use - light and air quality), but all of my hard work finally paid off. I have already cut back my basil plant several times and enjoyed some fresh in sauces and stir-fries while drying the rest to keep and use over the winter. The same holds true for the parsley, rosemary, and spearmint. We'll see how long I can keep them going under the grow light as the days, and especially the nights, get colder. Just to show you how brave I've gotten with this experiment, I even started some new basil seeds just to see what they'd do and, low and behold, they are coming up. I might even get another plant going before the first frost.

I have come to believe that this tiny garden was my lifesaver over these last few months. The sowing, watering, pruning, moving pots around from grow light to window sill as the weather got warmer, and finally enjoying the tiny harvest while absorbing the beautiful colors of the begonias, geraniums and impatiens, has kept my spirits up and put the cycles of nature front and center for me. That has kept me focused on the beliefs that keep me going, like acknowledging that nature keeps evolving and so do we, that life also has seasons to go through just like in nature, and that, in the end, all the work and learning will bear flowers if we just believe and sow love into the seeds we plant in the dirt and in our hearts. 

Soon it will be time to put all the plants back under the grow lights to see which ones will solider on through the winter and which won't. Next spring I'll take what I've learned this year and put it to use to make my tiny garden even better and more productive. That's kind of what we're supposed to do with life as well, to take what we've learned and use it to build an even better life. It just depends on what you want to grow, and how much work and love you're willing to put in.

And so it is. 

Messages From The Mist

 

It seems like every morning for the last two weeks I have opened my eyes to a vista shrouded in fog and mist. Laying in my bed I listen for the sound of the birdsong that sings in the day, every day, only to find that it comes across muffled, sounding far away when I know that there are daily visitors to the tree outside my window even before the sun comes up. I'm no scientist but according to the all-knowing Google the distortion in sound is caused by the water droplets in the mist that weigh down the sound and keeps it from moving freely. I know it makes me feel as if it's weighing down my ability to get out of bed. Is it any wonder that, waking up to a foggy morning, we just want to pull the covers back up over our head and wait for the sun to put in an appearance? 

As with many things in my life lately, synchronicity, a.k.a. The Universe, showed me the following quote this morning while I was browsing for one for the "Flower Bear's Thought For The Day" daily post on the Flower Bear's Garden Facebook Fan Page:

"In between fog and mist nature finds its way to bloom."

Swati Priya 

It doesn't matter how many mornings we wake up to fog and mist, at some point the sun will burn it away and nature will continue doing what it does best ... bloom. The trees and the flowers will shake off the wetness and reach for the warmth of the sun, sending energy to their roots. The birds will sing louder and we can hear it more clearly. Vegetables and fruit continue to ripen in the sunshine and, at this stage in the year, are getting ready for harvest. Even in the deepest fog there is always the promise of sunshine.

I know this year has seemed like one continuous, huge, blanket of fog, but the sun has to come out sooner or later. In all honesty, it was always there but we've been too busy trying to survive to remember that life is doing its best to summon up enough strength to burn through to us. We have to keep the faith and know in our hearts that it will come out and we will begin the process of blooming again. Like the birds, we just have to keep singing until we can all hear the song.

And so it is. 

 

Tweets, Twitters, And Other Critters

 

Someone asked me recently why I didn't have a Twitter account. I told them that I had enough to handle with email, blogs, and Facebook that already took up a big chunk of my time. Besides, I prefer the real tweeters and twitters, the ones with feathers who sing me awake each morning and entertain me all day long.

The other day I was sitting at my desk staring out of the window at the sky as I usually do when searching for an idea or some inspiration when a sudden movement to my left caught my attention. Suddenly the huge pine tree next store was covered in black spots as a flock of tiny black birds flew in and landed. There was easily a hundred of them and I wondered if they weren't starlings or similar birds, the ones who fly in what they call "murmurations," like when you see a cloud of them wheeling and soaring in the sky in formation like aerial ballet. While I have certainly seen that phenomenon before, I had never seen a flock up close and personal. After what seemed like only a minute or two they took off again. A bunch of stragglers who obviously had been catching their breath in a nearby tree too off after them, followed by one, tiny bird who was struggling to keep up with the others. It only took a few minutes for the entire drama to unfold, but it was both beautiful and mind-boggling at the same time.

I have come to know from years of personal experience that there is nothing I can find in cyberspace or on the cloud that can compare with what Mother Nature has to show us. Watching those birds working together in perfect unity only showed up the glaring differences between animals and humans. There wasn't any in-fighting between two sides of the flock, like two political parties, about which way to go or what in-flight dance they were going to do. They just followed each other and it all got done, with great majesty, I might add. Whether it's a flock of starlings, or geese heading south, or beavers working together to build a dam, or a colony of ants carrying food back to the others, nature knows how to work in harmony with each other to get things done for the good of all. Perhaps we need to pull our eyes away from the news and digital tweets and start looking for answers outside of our windows. Mother Nature, it seems, already has a handle on things. She has, after all, had a few million years head start. It would be nice if we could give that kind of head start to the next seven generations of humans as well.

And so it is.

Saved By A Donut And A Cup Of Apple Cider

 

Nothing ties people together like a love of food, and nothing ties a community together better than opportunities to share that love with each other via local gatherings like festivals and fairs. Our community is no different but this year, sadly, just about every festival and gathering has been cancelled or postponed. So far we've lost the Maple Festival, the Strawberry Festival, July Fest, and even, possibly, the State Fair which is seriously in question. Our biggest event of the year locally, The Spedie Fest and Balloon Rally, is tentatively rescheduled for October and we're all keeping our fingers crossed. So when the brave folks over at the Cider Mill announced that they would be opening August 1st as usual, you can imagine the cheers that went up all over the county and beyond.

I've written about the Cider Mill just about every year that this blog has been active but this year it is bringing a special dose of much-needed joy to all of us. In case you have somehow missed previous postings about it, let me bring you up to speed. The Cider Mill is a local establishment that opens for the season in August of every year. Their specialty is anything and everything made from or with apples: cider, pies, candied apples, apple butter, apple jams and preserves, plus the best donuts you've ever had. As the surrounding farms start to bring in their harvest, the outside bins are filled with every kind of apple imaginable (did I mention that just an hour's drive from here is the home of the much loved Cortland apple?) for eating, cooking, and baking. By September the autumn harvests of pumpkins, gourds, and every kind of squash are added along with other goodies. It is a paradise for those of us who live for fresh, home-grown produce and a nice, cold cup of freshly made cider. It wouldn't be August let alone Autumn without the Cider Mill.

Yes, they are following social guidelines and only letting a few people in at a time. Yes, they have added curb-side (or should I say parking lot side) service. Sadly, the tours to watch them actually make the cider and the donuts are closed for the present, but when we drive by I can see the trucks starting to pull in and the outside bins being set up to bring in the harvest. I can't wait to get down there and get my first glimpse of those lovely red beauties - applesauce, here I come.

These are sad times for everyone but when the community comes together and steps up to the plate, we all benefit. When I took my first bite of one of their donuts (cinnamon), and washed it down with my first swallow of cider, it was like coming home after being away for a long time. Sometimes it's the little things that bring us the moments of happiness that turn into happy memories. My family and I are blessed to live in a community that gifts us with those kinds of moments. Seriously, who can't smile over a donut? 

And so it is. 

When It's Time To Weed And Prune

My, oh my, where has the summer gone? You'd think we'd all been out and about, traveling here and there, when in reality many of us have spent the summer turning our yards and gardens into "staycation" paradises, or as close as we can get to it. For those of us who don't even have a yard but must depend on our tiny container and tabletop gardens, we've been just as busy trying to be ever so creative and to not only think outside the box but create a whole new box to boot. However, no garden, regardless of how big or tiny, can get away without a whole lot of love, attention and, when needed, some serious, sometimes ruthless, weeding, dead-heading, and pruning. A tiny tabletop garden is no exception.

Over the last two weeks I've had to seriously prune back my herbs, saving some to dry and use in cooking, and taking some cuttings to start new plants. I've had to dead-head my begonias and impatiens, and, believe it or not, actually weed my pots. I use an organic potting mix that has compost in it and it is not unusual for me to be pulling clover out from around the bottom of my rosemary and spearmint. Just like any other garden, if you don't pull them out when they first show themselves, they will take over your garden as well as your pot. Sometimes I think people who don't garden don't understand the time and attention it takes to grow something not only beautiful but healthy as well.

Our gardens of life require just as much time and attention to weeding, dead-heading and pruning as our nature gardens do. We all have some nasty weeds - old habits and past beliefs that we thought we'd weeded out but that keep coming back - that need to be pulled out as soon as they pop up again. When we feel days just going on and on, one after the other but with no sense of growth, that's the time to prune from the top, pinching off the topmost growth to encourage side shoots to spread out and send their energy into growing more fruit or flowers - the rewards of living a life with passion and purpose. And, of course, when something that worked before is no longer working and, in a sense, is dead to us, that's the time to dead-head with great abandon and send our energy into new growth and new opportunities to thrive.

I've always been a fan of finding connections between the natural world and our own lives (hence the purpose of this blog), but if there is one lesson I've learned from old Mother Nature, it's this: the work you put in now will reap great rewards in the future. All that back-breaking work will be worth it when you sink your teeth into that first, juicy tomato, or cut that first beautiful rose to take indoors and enjoy. So, too, will all that work you put into tending your garden of life be worth it when you wake up one day and realize: What a glorious day to be alive!

And so it is. 

After The Storm

"The earth laughs in flowers."

Ralph Waldo Emerson''

We had quite the rain storm blow through here last night after a day that was the hottest of the summer so far. The temperatures were in the low 90's while the heat indexes were right up there as well. This morning the sky is once again blue and the colors of all the flowers and foliage are bright and bold as they sway in the morning breeze. It's as if they are laughing with the joy of a sweet sunny morning after a much needed deep drink overnight. Across the street I see a huge planting of Black-Eyed Susans in a neighbor's front garden with yellow's all bright and beautiful, and hydrangeas lifting their huge, round heads towards the sun to dry them off. All around me the grass is greener, the trees seem happier, and, as Emerson says, the earth laughs.

That is one of the things I think I love most about Mother Nature. No matter how dark and stormy  the world gets, nature goes on and can still find ways to make us smile. Even after the long, dark days of winter, sooner or later, we see tiny green shoots poking up out of the ground and the first green buds begin to sprout on the branches of trees and shrubs. After the storm comes the sun, always. An old Native American saying that Wayne Dyer loved to quote was this one: "Even in nature, no storm lasts forever." The storms that are pummeling the world we knew right now seem like they are going to last forever and there are some days when it really feels as if the storm is getting worse. Yet even in the face of all of it, no storm lasts forever. If we do a good job of preparing the soil and planting the seeds now, they will grow strong, healthy roots that will one day produce healthy, happy plants that will nourish our bodies and our souls. That works for people as well as it works for nature. It's what we do now that will determine what will grow later. I don't know about you, but I want to plant things that will not only make me smile, but will make me laugh out loud in joy. So what are you willing to plant?

And so it is.