June in my garden means all of my roses are either blooming or are just about to bloom. While I was working on the novel the other day my mom surprised me with this vase full of gorgeous “Cottage Rose” roses, a David Austin variety. I don’t know how this rose behaves in anyone else’s garden but in mine it is towering and reaching and wants to be a climber. The roses are prolific and gorgeous. The scent is light but definite. Roses in my garden either have to have a scent or they have to perform some other purpose (rose hips, for example).
Here’s “Cottage Rose” in its natural environment, the jungle of my yard.
This is my bean bed which is coming along nicely. I need to buy another bean packet to fill in some holes where beans didn’t pop up or where they were eaten to the ground. I planted all I had in this bed.
I’ve grown bush beans and they’re good but my favorite is always the pole bean. I am growing Scarlet podded, Helda, and Lazy Housewife.
I have some wild purple lupines from a wild seed packet but this one my mom bought at the nursery and I can see it from my eyrie of an office. I’ve been enjoying the almost coral color mixed with the orange calendula and California poppies it shares a bed with.
I have been wanting to grow red currants forever. I have made several failed attempts. For the first time I’m getting berries and they’re so pretty! Gooseberries are another ambition I have and now I’m encouraged to try for them next year.
This week we finally heard from the bank about our house. Through a gross miscommunication we have been applying for the HAMP loan for a year and the bank was ignoring us because our bankruptcy file never officially closed. You can read about it on my other blog if you like “If My Bank Was My Boyfriend”. The upshot is that they aren’t ignoring us anymore and we should find out whether or not we get to keep our home within the next month. Now I’m looking around feeling both dread and excitement at the same time. I find myself saying (constantly) “If we get to keep the house we’ll replace those dying diseased peach trees with more “Frost” peaches…” or “If we get to keep the house I’m going to plant a gooseberry…” or “If we get to keep the house we’ll get a tub we can actually soak in…”
The reality is that if we get to keep our house we’ll be so broke we’ll just have to sit tight and buckle down with budgets and make do with what we have and there will be no real improvements for the foreseeable future. I can live with that. For the chance to see my sour cherry tree mature and put out a full crop? For the chance to harvest our first Spitzenberg apple? Worth the poverty. Not having to move, not having to leave this house we love, not having to uproot ourselves to God knows where and in what hovel… completely worth being broke as dirt. All my fingers and toes are crossed. We think the numbers are in our favor and the bank says the only thing they care about is the numbers.
Whatever the outcome, I’m enjoying my roses and seeing my fruits and vegetables growing and maturing. June is a lovely month in Oregon.
It is terribly easy to become depressed and hopeless in times of war or when tsunamis unleash death and nuclear instability on the world. Death trudges on its determined route and we sit stunned while counting our sorrows. What have we got to look to for hope in times of darkness?
Don’t ever dismiss the simple answer. Never assume that the small things don’t count or can’t weigh against the big things meaningfully. Maybe the bright coral of a tulip can’t bring back the loved ones you’ve lost. No one is going to argue that. But can you not see the joy that nature offers us, the color she splashes across our path to arrest thought, to provoke laughter? Can you not recognize a path there to light?
What about the fruit tree that has hitherto never produced more than a meek smattering of blossoms and suddenly plasters itself with creamy flowers reaching sky high for the impossible spark of life? Can you be blind to the hopeful ignorance of war and death your plum tree claims? Listen.
Listen to the life around you. See the fractional evidences of love and hope the world gives even in the grimmest hour. There will always be grief. We will always be losing ourselves in graves and the calamities that bring us down to the surface of soil. We will always be mourning for something. Therefore we must always be looking for light to mitigate the dark. 
The most life affirming gift I have ever received in my life were elderberry cuttings from a dear friend who is like a sister to me. This very elderberry you see, budding as though it was a large-hearted lion of the landscape is nothing more than a sproutling declaring its love, its scrappy will to live, to thrive across continents, between friends. This cluster of buds is promise, it’s new life, it’s a message of continuity and peace.
After five months of applying (and reapplying) for a 
Owning a home gave me the freedom to discover cooking, gardening, housekeeping, and keeping hens. It gave me the inspiration to learn to can my own food and it taught me to ask what I can do for myself so that I can avoid calling someone in to do it for me. 
I think it’s funny that when I’m in the middle of canning it’s almost impossible to prepare actual meals. I end up eating a lot of sandwiches and easy food. Back when we had more money it was a great excuse to order in from restaurants. This week the best thing I ate was this pan of roasted vegetables all of which I got from the two 
I did make (and freeze) some tomato soup. I consulted friends for herb ideas and everyone has something different to suggest. I ended up using fresh thyme from the garden and the very last of the fresh local basil. I thought it was really nice but Philip preferred it as a dip for a grilled cheese. He didn’t love it on it’s own merit, which is why I didn’t bother posting my recipe here. It needs work. All soups should be worthy of standing alone. 
I made my annual trip to the local farm Bernard’s this year for tomatoes, summer squash, and eggplant – all upick. I ended up getting some jalapenos even though I promised myself I wouldn’t. Here’s what I packed on my scooter:
Last year my friend Laurie brought me a box of walnuts she’d collected from her mother’s tree. I put them in the freezer and only just cracked them all open in the last few weeks. I portioned them into vacuum sealed bags and put them back in the freezer. Walnuts are expensive to buy and I can go through a lot making this recipe for 
The corn is good this year! The corn is very very good and plentiful and not too expensive but I still choke at the thought of seven ears wasted! However, the cobs, after giving up much of their flavor to a stock, made the chickens very happy.
My basic roux always has a little dash of cayenne in it- but for this project, the corn chowder, it made it too hot! 
Knock knock? Anyone home? Can I come in? Surely there’s a grub or two you need cleaned up?
Hey Dot, whatcha peckin’ at? Thanks for dropping in the kitchen for a chat!
The first two artichokes! They are so gorgeous. I haven’t eaten them yet. I plan to cook them today because I’m leaving for New York tonight. I’m so not freaking out. 
Is this Curly-Sue or Mo? They grew up to be the same size so I can’t tell! The flock integration has worked out well. There are enough of the young ones to huddle together for safety when Dot charges them. Yes, Dot wants dominion. Actually all of the older hens rush at the young ones but there has been no substantial bullying, no eyes have been pecked out, and the little ones are getting bigger every day so that soon I think there will be less rushing at them and a true pecking order will be established.
It has been such a pleasure to see all the hens running around in the garden. They’ve been plucking at the low growing blackberries. That’s fine with me. It will make their eggs richer and better. But they probably won’t taste like blackberries.
