Boz and I share a love of lilies; me for its beauty and perfume; Boz for its vertical nature.
Lilies, Oh Won’t You Stay Just a Little Bit Longer…
August is the month when my garden really goes full-on Victorian, a color explosion of old fashioned flowers plucked from a John Singer Sargent canvas. Hollyhocks, phlox, lilies and roses dot my landscape as if applied from the artist’s palette. At night when all is still and a gentle breeze cuts across my porch, it carries the perfume of late summer, that of the lily.
Thanks to a little photo-editing magic, my lily regale is firmly rooted in the Aesthetic Movement.
Disneyland is to a child as the Pacific Northwest is to the lilies; the bulbs are very very happy here. Our cool summers and fast draining soils produce a robust flower of gob-smacking proportions and presence. This queen of flowers holds court and my attention at every turn.
Lily wonderland: Perfumed porch and eye candy corner of the garden.
Because the blossoms of lilies can be fleeting, I’ve explored ways to extend their visitations and enjoy their blooms for a longer period of time. It’s a simple ploy and one that doubles the vase and garden life of most lily flowers; I remove the stamens before pollen can be produced.
By removing the stamens you stop pollen production (and nose staining).
The flower’s purpose is to attract a pollinator, facilitate seed production and then fade away when the mission is accomplished. By plucking the stamens off of lilies, you circumvent the floral foreplay so there’s no pollen to trigger the process of reproduction.
When the lily flower begins to open, simply pluck the pollen-less stamens from the flower. If you wait too long the pollen appears and resistance is futile, the pollen spores will locate the pistil and love will find a way. The flower having done its job will retire to the garden bed below and enrich the soil as it once enriched the view.
Horrified housewife frozen in fear by butt crack arising.
Life’s journey can take you down a myriad of paths, around a couple detours, and sometimes back to where you started, but I really had no idea I was approaching the exit to the Plumber’s Butt (PB) off-ramp (where there is purportedly no return). For those who don’t know of or have never had a leaky faucet or broken pipe, plumber’s butt is the affliction where a man’s gut is bigger than his butt, and loose pants and gravity take full advantage of the disparity and worm their way down around the hips only to expose the upper two to three inches of the wearer’s butt crack. (Let me just say, it usually ain’t a pretty sight.) Because plumbers combine an inverted gut-butt ratio with bending over, the visual and the name stuck, especially after several homeowners around the country reported temporary blindness and recurring flashbacks.
Ironically, the young men of America find this style fascinating and waddle about daily like denim-ed penguins. As you age, it’s a look you try to avoid. So last week, when a friend found me in the garden hunched over pulling up weeds, and chortled, “Danger Will Robinson, Danger, approaching PB crack!” I had no idea what she was rambling on about. Then it hit me like a ton of reality-show bricks; she’s was saying I have plumber’s butt. (Lucky for her my water wand was out of reach.)
For a woman who challenges propriety in her ready-to-wear, I found her pronouncement cheeky (on every level). I continued weeding, laughed politely, pondered the cost of a security fence and tucked in my shirt. Unfortunately, my tucked-in tee was as obliged to stay put as a sprung roller shade. When I looked up, I paused and countered, “nice yoga pants.” We both laughed, and called a truce.
A week later after coming to the conclusion that plumber’s butt is the new sexy, I received a catalog from Duluth Trading Co. with a bold announcement: A Solution for Plumber’s Butt. There on the cover illustration a gobsmacked woman peered down at a bent-over (and suspect) plumber with his unsightly butt crack showing (though not in our field of vision thank goodness). Their solution is simply a long-tail T-shirt or as the catalog states it, “The three inch extra shirt body length solves the ‘rear exposure’ problem.” How awesomely simply is that and with two or more just ten dollars each, my butt crack issue is solved. Of course, I could also just exercise and eat right, but that’s a longer term solution. One I’ll address after finishing this morning’s stack of pancakes and bowl of raspberries and cream. For now, coughing up two Hamiltons can buy me (according to Duluth Trading Company) “comfort and dignity.” I wonder what their solution is for yoga pants?
Here’s Boz’s solution to plumber’s butt: sitting down.
How to Get More Fruit From Your Home Orchard Trees
Talk about firm fruit! Actually these are homemade branch weights I add to encourage fruiting.
Sometimes my young fruit trees get out of line, that is they send vertical shoots to the high heavens and leave me standing out of arm’s reach and picking distance, only to become a sky cafe for the birds and squirrels. In addition, most fruit trees produce less fruit on vertical shoots so I like to encourage lateral growth. As trees mature, heavy fruit will bend the branch naturally and create a better branch angle for fruit production. I just like to speed up the process and the harvest with my homemade stone fruits, which are nothing more than rocks wrapped in wire and hooked to a tree branch like a very heavy Christmas ornament. (Think Charlie Brown tree.) Here’s how you can make you own.
Since I am the thriftiest man this side of the Hood Canal, I recycle my materials from found objects. You’ll need:
rocks of various sizes and weights
wire coat hangers (Calm down Christina)
wire snips and/or pliers.
Cut the wire coat hanger in the middle of the triangular base.
Straighten wire to be perpendicular to hanging hook.
How to Make Stone Fruit (Fruit Tree Branch Weights)
Position wire around middle of the rock
Choose a rock that has a dent or two to hold the wire in place
River rocks are not suggested because the smooth surface causes slippage.
Wrap wire around the rock’s middle and twist very tightly with pliers.
Cut the ends off.
Stone Fruit Placement
In the top split photo, no stone fruit added
In the bottom split photo, the stone fruit is placed far enough out to encourage lateral bending and fruit bud growth.
Add weights after this years fruit has been picked.
You don’t want the stone to create an inverted U-shape; that would cause too much stress on the branch.
A gentle lowering of the branch is the goal here. You are not trying to make a weeping willow.
Over a season or two the branch will grow into the angle created and you can remove the weights.
Remove the weights if heavy fruiting occurs as the added weight may break the branch.
Bad rock, bad: this weight is placed too far out on the limb. A strong wind or heavy downpour may cause the branch to break or the rock to slip off.
Some heavy tree fruits (like apples) act as their own branch weights and create lateral branches naturally, but trees with small fruit (like cherries) may need a little help with lowering branches.
So if you have some fruiting branches reaching for the sky, bring them back down to earth with some branch weights. A year from now, your effort will be rewarded with a tastier, more succulent stone fruit then my homemade versions. (photo: Lapins cherries)
A quick press can leave a lasting and unpalatable impression
Peach Perfect
It’s no secret I love peaches–their rich flavor, succulent juice and heady perfume. I’m even starstruck (and foolish) enough to try to grow them in the maritime Pacific Northwest. This year my eleven Peach Leaf Curl Resistant trees remain basically fruitless. I have a very wet spring and bees that prefer pollinating native Oregon grape, cottonwood, and wild cherry to thank.
Boz shares my sentiments about poorly handled fruit
So when I spend a big chunk of change buying peaches, only to have them morph into moldy spheres of mush days later, I become a very grumpy man who wants to stand by every produce case in America and lecture the clueless folks who squeeze them relentlessly before moving on to molest the nectarines and avocados. Squeezing peaches tells you nothing. It ruins the fruit and demeans a full year of hard work by the men and women who bust their keesters to grow and harvest some of nature’s finest fruit. Simply put, don’t do it.
Tough talk about firm fruit: Don’t press the peaches!
Peaches will be firm at market 9 times out of 10
Even a ripe peach can still be firm
Instead select heavy peaches of rich color
Peaches cannot be shipped totally ripe or they would be very bruised upon delivery
A peach will ripen nicely off of the tree.
Allow time for the fruit to ripen; you can’t rush it.
Use your nose to determine ripeness, not your thumb.
The following link is a popular post of mine that shares the steps to ripening an unripe (and very firm) peach at home and it has nothing to do with a brown paper bag.
I bought these gems when they were rock hard, and let them ripen on their own schedule under cloth (which was about five days). If bruised at purchase, they would rot before ripening properly.
Indian Free peaches from my trees: I pick them firm (in early October) and ripen them off the tree to beat fall rains, ravenous raccoons and squirrel gangs. It takes about a week, but the methods in the link above are simple and well worth it. Good luck! Now treat your peaches like slow food and you’ll be reward justly. And you better not let me catch you pressing your thumbs into peaches at the local Thriftway or I may have to return the favor (on behalf of bruised and rotting peaches everywhere).
Utah Giant cherry: first of the season, first for the tree
While the rest of the country smolders under the debilitating heat of summer, the Pacific Northwest chills out with unseasonably cool days and generous cloud cover. In fact, this year Seattle meteorologists have only recorded two times, for a total of 78 minutes, when the outside temperature exceeded 80 degrees. Despite our slow start to summer, I’m happy to say it’s been a summer of fine firsts.
Lily Regale: The first fragrant lily to bloom in my garden
My sister, a welcomed guest and berry picker, shows off the first tub of Tulameen raspberries
And when the sunlight does appear, it’s nice to stand back and appreciate one’s newly washed windows (now that’s a first).
The first bouquet of dahlias can brighten up any corner of the house.
After my first harvest of loganberries, I have to ask myself, “Why didn’t I plant these sooner?”
And for the first time in his life, Boz was fine with being called a lapdog.
MacGyver Mom to the rescue; the deer never stood a chance.
As you may recall from previous posts, my mother is a woman of many hats, a can-do lady of infinite skill, capability and charm. So while I sat around whining about my recent Attack of Mutant Deer from Outer Space, my Mom put on her thinking cap and took on the challenge of finding a way to keep deer out of my garden and orchard. I can see her now at the kitchen table hatching her clever plan and ingenious deer-thwarting device.
The bells that ring terror into the hearts of mutant alien deer.
My mother did not disappoint. As I removed a parcel from my mailbox, it jingled, I mean really jingled. Walking back to the house I sounded like a Clydesdale at Christmas, enough so that I broke into song… “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way… .” (And this is why my neighbors scratch their heads.)
To thwart the deer, you must first become the deer
The return address told me MacGyver Mom had sprung into action, but just what was this cloaked calliope. Perhaps Boz and Gracie would be sporting new jester capes or holiday harnesses. A shiny avalanche of chrome bells and a spool of waterproof line spilled out of the package along with a note about how to use this noisy assembly to deter deer. Because the deer were wedging there big fat herbivore heads through my gates, my Mom believed affixing bells to said gates would startle the deer and make them hightail it to easier pickings (or at least saunter in a different direction). I smiled and thought, this elegantly simple solution may just work. I strung the bell-studded lariats across each gate, testing placement for optimum decibel and startle factor.
Dazed by the ringing bells, this buck tries for a quick getaway in my truck. (Good thing I removed the keys earlier.)
So how’s it working? It’s been a couple of weeks with no buck or doe breakthroughs, so my Mom may have something here. And when not acting as a deer deterrent, the bells alert Boz and Gracie of my return from the orchard, a clear signal that they may resume begging on the porch. One thing’s for sure, every time I open or close the gate, a slew of angels get their wings. (Glad to help.) Mom, from me and on behalf of Boz and Gracie and some once wingless angels, thank you very much! Now for those of you who scoff at the idea of bells deterring deer, may I remind you that these same bells are purported to keep hikers like me from being a Grizzly’s next meal, and a hearty meal at that. (My friend Joan asserts the bells really act as a dinner bell.)
This weekend all roads on the island lead to the Vashon Strawberry Festival as we celebrate 102 years of bringing together friends, family, fried foods and fun. Somewhere in the mix you’ll find a strawberry or two, as islanders also honor the berry that put Vashon on the map, that is before K2 skis and Seattle’s Best Coffee.If you waddle (yes funnel cakes and fries will be served) by the Vashon Island Pet Protectors (VIPP) booth, you may have a chance to enjoy some other fine fare at the fair, namely my sour cream pound cake layered with cream cheese whipped cream and fresh strawberries. (Yes for Tom, more is more, especially in the dairy department.) The cake in the photo is my test cake. My expert panel of taste testers and I all agree, it’s a cake worthy of a raffle to help homeless pets. Uh, let me rephrase that; it’s delicious, rich, creamy and tastes like a summer day. Now if you prefer cats to cakes or pooches to pastries, forgo the raffle and still visit the booth to learn how you can help our island’s four-legged friends.
Local strawberries bound for gateau greatness and of course a very good cause.
Now should you eat a bit too much at the festival, I hear the Zumba goddesses welcome participation in the Saturday parade and there is also the Saturday night street dance to burn off a few extra calories and inhibitions. And if you wish to make the cake yourself, the recipe follows:
RECIPE: Strawberry Festival Layer Cake
Main Ingredients:
2 pounds of cleaned, halved fresh strawberries, 3/4 Cup sugar
Pound cake (or sour cream pound cake)
Cream cheese – whipped cream
Strawberries
toss berries in sugar, let stand
Sour Cream Pound Cake
make or purchase your favorite pound cake
Cream Cheese – Whipped Cream
Ingredients
8 ounces cream cheese
3/4 Cup sugar
1 t of vanilla
pinch of salt
2 Cups whipping cream
Preparation:
Whip up cream cheese in a mixer
Slowly add sugar until well mixed
Add vanilla and salt, mix
Add a slow stream of cream into the cream cheese mixture, add all the cream
Mix on a medium high speed with whipping whisk or attachment until cream doubles in volume and holds its peaks
Cake Assembly
Slice cake in half to create two layers (three if a thick cake)
Drain sugared strawberries
Add berries to the top of the bottom first layer
To that add generous layer of whipped cream mixture, covering the berries
Add top cake layer over the top of the berry cream layer
Add whipped cream mixture to the top, smooth out carefully
Add individual berries to the top in an artful (or not) arrangement, using a toothpick helps
Refrigerate for at least an hour before serving
I think this cake may be even better the next day as the flavors meld (or maybe I just ate too much the day before).
Boz and Gracie thank you for supporting VIPP (especially if you drop a crumb or two their way).
Rhubarb Pickles for a change of paceRhubarb pickle chips: easy to make, easy to eat.
Last Saturday, the third of July, I was enjoying a salad prepared by my friend Chris. I munched. I chewed. I loved. His fresh homegrown garden greens heralded summer with each bite. Then, like a little sparkler tucked away in the mix, a blast of flavor took me by surprise. “Chris, what the heck is that wonderful sweet, sour, crunchy thing in the salad.” He answered, “pickled rhubarb, Tom.”
Now I’ve been around the rhubarb block a time or two, and I’ve never had the tart stalk pickled. If I may channel my inner-thirtysomething voice, “It was flippin awesome!” Even before sopping up the last slick of vinaigrette on my plate, I knew I had to make this crispy condiment sooner than later. Chris assured me the rhubarb pickles recipe was beyond simple, and Chris is a man of his word.
My rhubarb is still going gangbusters, thanks (I think) to a cooler-than-normal summer.
Super Simple RECIPE: Rhubarb Pickles
UPDATE July 11, 2011: I wouldn’t bother canning these as they turn slimy. Instead eat them when fresh and in season. If you want to keep them crisp like a pickle, keep them fresh in a lidded jar in the fridge. They’ll keep a good long time.
Makes about 6 half pints
Ingredients:
2-3 pounds of rhubarb
1.5 cups sugar
2 cups apple cider vinegar
pinch of salt
Preparation
Clean rhubarb
Slice on the diagonal into chips (about the thickness of saltine cracker)
Place in non-reactive bowl (glass, pottery, stainless)
Add sugar, and stir to coat all pieces
Cover and let stand room temp for a couple hours
Add vinegar and stir until sugar is dissolved
Keep in the fridge
Save any extra liquid to use in salad dressings
Variations:
Add herbs and/or spices you like for a twist
peppercorns for a little heat
whole cloves
fresh ginger (I added candied ginger)
allspice berries
mustard seeds
bay leaf
If you add herbs or spices, I’d drain the liquid into a pan, heat and steep the liquid for a few minutes, then letting it cool to room temperature before adding to jars.
Rhubarb has a small fan club from what I can gather. As an acquired taste, most folks prefer it teamed up with custard or strawberries or some other flavor-diluting component to help ratchet down its strong personality. I understand, so believe me when I say, this pickle will make you a recipe card carrying rhubarb devotee.
A Washington State ferry plying the protected waters of Puget Sound on its way to Vashon Island.
Discovering Vashon Island
Journeys rarely make sense and mine is no exception. Lucky for me, I drifted ashore on Vashon Island, a sweet spot moored in the middle of Puget Sound, home to the quirky, the kind, and the unabashedly laid back. A stunning ferry ride from West Seattle or Tacoma, Vashon Island is just inconvenient enough to deter the impatient and cultivate the eccentric.
A February sunset takes its final bow over Vashon Island.
The Vashon Island chapter of my story began many years ago. As a first time visitor, I dug my toes into the sand of a west-side shore on a fine summer day in the company of good friends. My drink chilled by an incoming tide, my heart warmed by an outpouring of island charm, I was smitten. Our tall tales and laughter echoed down the beach and followed the sun’s descent to the farthest reaches of the Olympic range. The onset of dusk could not quell the hospitality of the day, so a starry night sky took over the next watch. Chill, darkness and decorum were no match for the fun we were having; the revelry continued until the last ferry called.
Dockton Harbor on a sunny summer day.
Surrounded by the beauty of nature, embraced by the richness of friendship and pampered by the gift of abundance, I succumbed to Vashon’s spell that day, setting in motion years of incurable daydreams about my future island life. I was to return again and again, knowing one day I would reverse the direction of my ferry route and call this special place home.
As a local fixture (actually everyone’s a local fixture here), I love Vashon for what it is not: an island impressed with pretense. Dressed-up is a shirt with a collar and no coffee stains. A flat tire is just another way to make friends. A puzzled look in the produce aisle will get you five recipes and a dinner invitation. Hip is a term we reserve for other ferry routes.
Friendliness never goes out of style.
Vashon is an island where no bumper is safe from an sticky quip, where unicorn decals and dream catchers festoon cars with greater frequency than smashed bugs, where power outages fuel friendships and Scrabble games by candlelight, where a nice ride is any vehicle with a muffler and a seat belt, and where the potluck is a time-honored tradition and high art form.
Living on an island does have its challenges, but it also has its rewards, revealing special moments that speak to the kinship of isolation and the camaraderie of everyone being in and on the same boat, so to speak.
While commuting by ferry creates bottlenecks and travel headaches, it also fosters a bond, an unspoken appreciation that someone else shares your round-trip seagoing odyssey, relative isolation and desire to enjoy this seaside Arcadia. Smiles and nods to strangers one day yield the like from those you now called friends.
At times when I’ve returned to Vashon after a long day in a less-welcoming place, I stand on the bow of the car deck for a wake-up call from the sea and sky, a salt spray slap that refreshes me better than any bracing aftershave. The ferry continues to clip along, occasionally stuttering below deck with chugs, rumbles and vibrations unique to the vessel. I savor the simple joy of nearing the island and watching the Olympic Mountains grow before my eyes, seizing the horizon and my imagination each time.
A 1919 journal entry found in my old farmhouse reveals an earlier resident was hooked as well, stating, “As a home place, there is no more pleasant or satisfactory location on Puget Sound.” I couldn’t agree more and extend my appreciation to the hand and heart who shared those words and these walls close to 100 years ago and no doubt pondered his or her own homecoming.
Home sweet home, gussied up for the Fourth of July
Vashon has been called The Heart of Puget Sound, a moniker as much about disposition as location. And not surprisingly as an island and a community, we wear our hearts right on our sleeves, sleeves that are well-worn and well worn, fashioned from threads that may dapple in tie-dye or be spun into pinstripe; be covered by a motorcycle jacket or trimmed in lace. The Heart of Puget Sound may follow its own beat, but the pulse is always one of welcome and delight for those lucky enough to drift ashore here.
I take my hat off (Elmer Fudd wants it back) to any homeowner brave and hardworking enough to participate in a garden tour. For a man who thinks folding clothes is a chore, the idea of maintaining a dandelion free lawn or growing a rose bush without black spot sends me scrambling for the security and comfort of my backyard hammock.
While I do struggle with the concept of pastoral perfection at my place, I had no trouble being treated to some of Vashon Island’s finest home landscapes and dreamy locales on the VAA garden tour last weekend. Bravo and Brava to the island gardeners who worked their tookuses off for charity and the enjoyment of others. In the process, I had a blast and enjoyed my own comparative sturdy in gardening philosophies and techniques. For some, the grass really is greener.
Boz and I share a love of lilies; me for its beauty and perfume; Boz for its vertical nature.
Thanks to a little photo-editing magic, my lily regale is firmly rooted in the Aesthetic Movement.
Lily wonderland: Perfumed porch and eye candy corner of the garden. 
By removing the stamens you stop pollen production (and nose staining).
When the lily flower begins to open, simply pluck the pollen-less stamens from the flower. If you wait too long the pollen appears and resistance is futile, the pollen spores will locate the pistil and love will find a way. The flower having done its job will retire to the garden bed below and enrich the soil as it once enriched the view.
