Apple Sauce For The Soul

The boys are taking turns running out to the yard and filling a basket with windfall apples from our tree and running in to dump them into the giant tub on the kitchen counter next to me. We are making apple sauce. I peel and core and the boys collect fruit, cut up the peeled pieces, stir the bubbling fruit on the stove and root around in the spice cabinet electing seasonings that strike their fancy (no to the dill seed, yes to the applespice).

We have been making a saucepan full at a time....two or three pint jar of hot packed sauce in an episode, every batch a small limited edition. It's super fun and super slow and I have had several moments after the kids were in bed when I stared at the mouldering fruit we didn't get to that day and the wispy cloud of fruit flies and thought...."Maybe I should throw them all out and forget the whole thing."

Maybe I will....all projects have a lifespan....but for now...we are making do, squeasing in couple more jars here and there, adding some pureed apricots this time and cardamom, letting each kid play chef and learn to wield a cutting board and a paring knife. I see a long, cozy winter ahead of us, all of us comforted down by applesauce spiced to the palate of the hour.

Yarn-Bomb!

I am always a fan of public art. Especially the kind that seems brightly, unexpected and makes me smile when I stumble on it. The boys and I just bumped into a tree that had been "yarn-bombed" and was sporting a perky, striped turtle-neck. Yarn-bombing is a recent phenomenon and its fun to see it appear in my urban backyard...think bright graffiti with knitting needles. Somehow it feels like stealth caring for random objects, dressing them up in colorful, personal, warm little costumes. I think this lucky little tree was grinning, happy to have been made into happy public art by some sneaky fiber artist. Don't you think?

How to Identify Trees

View up the trunk of a Tulip Tree.

Do you think trees are beautiful but feel clueless about how to tell them all apart? Maybe you didn't grow up in a "naturey" family or maybe you learned a few by osmosis in childhood (maple, oak, birch...etc.) but feel unimpressive at that level and stumped about going further. Maybe you're a homeschooling mama like me who wants to teach her kids the names of the trees she doesn't even know. Don't despair! You can do it!

American Beech meets the ground.

I am always teaching my little boys about how to identify trees. I think A gets a little annoyed sometimes by my, "Hold on! Look boys...what's this?" bunny trails when we're hiking or walking the neighborhood or on our way from the house to the car. The man deserves credit though....he keeps his mouth shut and lets me keep on with my perpetual, nature pop quiz.

Underside of a fallen White Oak leaf.

I love trees. Who doesn't really?!?  They feel important and warmly beautiful and they demand our attention.  Learning their names is a good way to feel like you're genuine friends. I often have people watch me identify a tree and then sigh and shake their heads, "That's amazing." they say... "I could never do that."

Truth is, they could. And so can you. Here are five steps. 

1. The best way to start is to pick one specific tree to learn. Choose a tree you have on your property or in your neighborhood, something you see all the time will jog your memory, give you more practice and help your new knowledge stick. I think the best way to learn a new tree when you're starting from scratch is to ask someone you know who knows about nature. Either have them pick one tree and show it to you or show them a tree you've selected. Its not cheating to have someone tell you the answer....its learning. That's how you start when you don't know anything yet! Use your network with no shame.

American beech leaves, all bronze after the frost.

2. Once you have the name of the tree...google like crazy! I use the internet all the time now for plant i.d. There is all kinds of information out there now and its all just waiting for you to use it! Type the name of the tree you found into Google and read about your tree. Type: "tips for identifying ___________" and fill in the blank with your tree's name. Read about the special things unique to that tree. Write down the list if you wanna be really comprehensive, if you're feeling fast and loose, try to remember one or two of the things you read. Some of the sciencey words used to describe the tree parts might be off-putting and unfamiliar...don't be cowed...google those too!

Nib sniffing leaves he found on a hike.

3. The next time you see "your tree" again stop for a minute and look at it for the special characteristics that you read about. Notice anything else you missed before. Look at the tree like its a person. Pretend you're a kid...generally fool around: notice how it feels and how it smells and what its shape is like. Smush up a leaf and notice the sap and the scent of the smashed greenery. Snap off a twig and put it in your pocket to look at later. Kick around under the tree and see if you can find any seed pods from it to bring home. If you think of it, take pictures.

Fallen, autumn Ginko biloba leaves.

4. Teach someone else about your tree. This is where kids are fabulously helpful. If you don't have kids...teach your grandchildren or a neighbor boy or a kid at the bus stop. Teaching other people passes on the knowledge that we have (very few people know how to identify a tree...most people will be impressed and will want to know what you tell them) and it is also the very best way to cement your own knowledge in your mind.

Tulip Tree seed pod.

5. Do it again! The more times you learn a new tree and go read about it the more technical, descriptive words for tree parts you will absorb and eventually you will be able to find a tree in the woods, type the characteristics into Google (deciduous, opposite leaves, glaucus buds, palmate leaf shape) and you'll have figured out the answer to a puzzle on your own! Its a tremendous feeling. Until then, remember:

• Practice makes perfect.
• There's no shame in making mistakes....its how we learn.
• Celebrate every victory! 

 Go be a nature genius! You've got it in you.

Fruit Of Our Labors

This is the first official produce of our new mini-orchard we planted last year. We have a bunch of new baby trees we planted on our property last spring: two plum trees, a peach tree, a cherry, a pear and a nectarine to keep our ancient apple tree company. Last year they just grew, and this year that's still where most of the energy went (they are starting to look like real trees now!) but one of our plums pulled out all the stops and made a single golden fruit.

It was condensed deliciousness. All our fruit farming hopes and gardening efforts congealed in one glowing orb. A and I split it one very early morning for breakfast while the dew was still on the grass, dripping juices on our hands, alternating bites. Sometimes we share an achingly happy vision of life together.

Related articles

• Dwarf Fruit Trees for Small-Space Gardens
• Heavy Branches and the Lonely Peach
• Eating Fruits Can Reduce The Risk Of Obesity
• Tips to grow fruit on a small scale
• Bag of plums

Poetry Friday: A Botany Poem

I have been soaking in Amy Merrick's stunning blog An Apple A Day whenever I get a spare minute. Between that, spring being present and spring cleaning addling my brain a bit my thoughts have become quite blossom-soaked. Why fight it? Spring wants to be center-stage...so let her.

Flowers on Dancing Woman (Photo credit: TheArches)

My poem today is all about this very favorite season of mine...and maybe explains a bit of the madness we all feel suddenly at this time of year. May she ever shake her blossomy mane on my street....

Sunlit leaves in spring with and without backlight (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Once A Sensualist Dame...

Spring is doing her passionate tarentella
All down our block and the next one too
Pursing her bold red tulips and fiercely
Kicking up chartruese, grassy spears.
She shakes her tinkling forsythia mane
And drops rings of daffodil at every door.
She lays herself a rosy, blossom rug on
The corner under the lush magnolia tree.
Where she blows a flirty kiss of pear petal
Confetti after every oblivious, passing car.
She winks a forget-me-not eye in each yard,
Reaches her long, leaf-tipped limbs skyward
And performs a saucy, hosta-fringed hip-roll
That always leaves my old house open-doored
Lolling dusty rugs from every window.

Wall painting from Stabiae: Flora with the cornucopia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

You can find the other Poetry Friday participants contributions over at Book Talk, today's host blog. Feel free to chip in with your own additions too! Participation is open to all....just link up and join the throng.

Some Women Knit Booties

Some women (even me) have been known to make booties in the third trimester. I get crazy ideas about making giant sculptures out of sticks in the yard. It takes all types to make a world. Last year I posted about my first round of pruning the apple tree, and this year I knew another big whack needed to be taken at it but it was a daunting task for a pregnant chica in winter. Teetering on a ladder in January with a saw is now always advised in prenatal texts. Wow was I relieved and excited when A surprised me and manifested his own spontaneous interest in fruit tree pruning and decided to practice on our apple! Whew! He really went to town and took off several limbs I was too intimidated to try to saw through. When he was finished there was a giant pile of sticks and branches sitting on the lawn. He hauled some of them to the curb for spring cleaning pick-up by the city and then I stopped him because a wild, hair-brained idea struck.

Beginnings. A big heap of apple trimmings. You can see how I was starting to lay out the arch shape, flat on the ground on the left side of the photo.

"Leave the rest! I'm going to build something!" And so I did.

And here's the finished project...at least as finished as it gets until it has plant occupants.

Lots of scratches on the arms and loads of grunting, hoisting and weaving later...we have a giant stick sculpture arbor that leads from our driveway into the back garden. Kind of fun! I'm not sure how long it will last, its not exactly permanent but for now it is a pretty fun thing to have accomplished. I was thinking of the hood-type willow weaving I did in our condo garden a couple of years ago and then as I worked it ended up being a lot bigger than I was expecting. Am still trying to decide if it needs some kind of foot anchoring via stakes or something or some other reinforcement but it is pretty heavy and although it flexes a little in the wind it has managed to stay standing quite solidly so far. Now...the big question is what to plant on it! Clematis? Morning glories? Climbing roses? Honeysuckle?

Bells, Whistles and Chit-Chat

Handel's Messiah, original manuscript. Image via Wikipedia,

This morning when we woke up there was a misty fog all over our neighborhood. Even though it is December we are really still having late fall weather. I left Michigan years ago now but I still expect winter once December begins and seeing my lawn for so long and leaving the house in a hoodie seem really out of place, however handy. The leaves are all down now, except for a few stubborn clusters of oak leaves and the shriveled bits of Japanese maple leaves that cling so long. The neighbors are all starting to wrap up the raking and I'm trying to remember to get the gutters cleaned.

The boys and I are doing bits here and there to get ready for Christmas. We've been making paper chains to decorate all our doorways room-to-room in the house, we had a gingerbread house party with friends and we're  all stocked up on flour and sugar in preparation for the big mess of cookies we plan to start churning out.

Nib is a small wordy man these days. We went to a Messiah sing-a-long last night and he was a little too vocal to be in the auditorium during the solos so I ducked in and out with him; when the nice loud, grand choruses were being sung we'd appear at the back and then as soon as they ended we'd adjourn to the lobby while A and big brothers stayed in their seats inside. During our many intermissions we had a long word tour together. He walked around the lobby telling me all the words he knows: "Tree." (pointing to the Christmas tree), "Fah-er" (pointing to the irises in a Van Gogh print on the wall), "Wah-er" (indicating the fountain), "Tree." (the potted ficus near the door) etc..etc..etc. Such fun to hear a recitation of his current vocab list and see his earnest insistence about being taken seriously. Watching a human learn to speak is great fun.

Related articles

• Tree? Check. Vatican Gears up for Christmas (abcnews.go.com)
• Gingerbread House Frenzy (rubellesandmoon.wordpress.com)
• Making Teacher Gifts (outofsickdays.com)
• There's no Christmas like snow Christmas (wheresmyrubyslippers.wordpress.com)

Autumn-That-Almost-Wasn't

Here, in the middle of November, we've finally come to the visual apex of fall. A bit late but hey. Better late than never. And I really, really thought it was going to be never this year. Looking back through my photo files from last year tells me, surprisingly, that the colors really aren't any later than they were last autumn. If it weren't for bulging photography files I could have sworn to you that the colors this year were so much later than they normally are. When we got that snowstorm in late October and everything was icicles and frost and the boys were out in the yard swinging their snow shovels around for old time's sake and A and I looked around at all the trees, still green in the leaf and though, "Well, there goes our fall color show!" I was sure that once the snow melted and the air warmed up again all the leaves would turn brown and insta-drop.

Heh. Never second guess Mother Nature...she is her own boss. Looks like all that really happened is that we got an early taste of winter spirit to put a little extra spring our step and then we went back to our regularly scheduled autumn show.

Maples are my favorite trees, second only to beeches, I'm so glad to have several of them on and near our property. In the back yard, over the garage a big grand sugar maple and her neighbor has gone school bus colored and are starting to drop leaves in a pile the boys like to jump in every morning. 

In front of our house, we have two Japanese maples, one on either side of our front walk reaching up towards our bedroom window.They spread their double canopy right about even with our second floor and specifically my bedside window. They are now the most amazing flame scarlet and waking up in the morning to see the sun rising out my window in cotton candy wisps and swathes of pink and gold through those bright red leaves is completely surreal. I wish I could paint it or photograph it for you but it is one of those breathtaking things that makes you leave the camera where it is and just open your eyes a little wider instead. There is no capturing certain visual moments except with the mind. This Autumn-That-Almost-Wasn't is a really beautiful thing.

Apple Pieces

Apple season looms. I keep thinking about getting back to apple cake making and wondering if today will be the day that it sounds like a good idea. So far, no dice really. It is still warm and the sun is (as Suess says) "still sunny" so the oven has mostly stayed off and I haven't even felt inspired enough about the topic to dig through my recipes for untried options. No, not even A's incredibly kind aunt soliciting my best contender yet encouraged me to get out my binder and have a look-see. Am a genuine inspiration swamp about it. (So sorry Aunt A!!! I promise I'll get that recipe to you soonish!)

I do think about it though and still believe in the idea heartily. The best apple cake recipe on earth has to be found. It has to be a classic cake...it has to be soft and has to be thick with apples and spices and it must, must, must be moist and delicious.

Going home, I realized that part of why the apple bug is so deep in me is because I without a doubt come from a land of apple paradise. There are apple trees, wild, abandoned,  forgotten, thriving, loaded, glowing apple trees on almost every tract of untended land...most houses seem to have an apple tree.

One of my paintings, "Four Apple Glow"

Plato represents to us that in the old days the apple was a symbol of love and tossing one to a person you fancied was a symbolically deep offer of affection.

"I throw the apple at you, and if you are willing to love me, take it and share your girlhood with me; but if your thoughts are what I pray they are not, even then take it, and consider how short-lived is beauty."

—Plato, Epigram VII^[21]

I had to have an apple tree at our new house, it is a deeply connected home-piece for me. Apple trees mean peace, familiarity and utility and even on some level a kind of whimsical mystery. I know Eve didn't really eat an apple but I think about it anyhow, and Avalon, the land of Arthur had nothing to do with apples, the name just means "apple land" but it somehow still feels important...I even think about the old name for the tomato "love apple" when I find myself in an orchard and smile to myself thinking that it sounds right.I think it is not for without reason that I feel really home now that I have made my own sauce and feel that if I need to have a good cry, a mug of cider is one of the best companions. Aphrodite and I like our apples.

Pie Secrets

 Just making and eating pie again, as is my usual custom this time of year. It seems like pie would be a great thing to make in winter when it is cold (and it is, if you freeze or can some of the summer fruit!) but I seem to mostly make it in warm weather when the bushes and trees are dripping with fruit and all hands are stained with juice. I love pie. Passionately. You can keep your cake...I'll stick with pie.

 I was busily making pies this week and then eating pies and think to myself about a small correction or two that I owe the pie making section of my blog audience. A while back I shared my favorite pie making cookbook and typed up the recipe I always use for blueberry pie.

 Well, a good friend used that recipe to make a pie and was much disgruntled to find that it sank down a very slumped in, and pale version of itself and came marching back to me to ask exactly why her pie didn't look anything like mine even though she'd used my recipe.

 I am my mother's daughter. I use recipes but I am also not afraid to experiment, and sometimes do so without my conscious or deliberate thought, even habitually. Can you believe that of me?

The hitch with my pie making is that I discovered in my newlywed pie making days that any standard recipe seems to yield those sort of sunken results and so requires tweaking. I follow the recipe's suggestions for sugar and thickening agent (usually cornstarch) but I pour in far more fruit than anyone would advise. They say, for instance, to add 3 1/2 cups of blueberries? I put in 6-8 cups. Pies should be teeteringly piled with fruit, so much so that the crust is required to hold it all in, because during the baking everything will shrink and compact and a bit of evaporation will occur. Always add more fruit. Add as much fruit as you can practically manage to squeeze in. Truly.

Another thing I always change in my pie recipes is the amount of water in the crust. Invariably recipes suggest far too little water for me to be able to get it to work. I just add water in tiny amounts...say a tablespoon or two at a time until I am able to get a dough to form. It is easy to go to far so go slow, and try to stir briskly and minimally in order to avoid making your dough tough, but I often end up adding as much as a half a cup of water. I just keep dribbling it in until the dough behaves.

So, there are my secret pie confessions....go forth and make pastry!