Tall Clover Farm

Easter Wears a Slicker…and a Smile

Tomagrams

Tom

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April 12, 2009

5

The face of Easter may be wet, but she’s undettered (psst, look to the left).

When the Easter bunny comes to the Pacific Northwest, he better bring along his gortex, galoshes and plastic eggs.

Easter egg hunt galoshes

There’s a joke that when a newcomer to Seattle asks a neighbor kid, “Hey Jimmy, does it ever stop raining here?” He replies, “Gosh Mister, how would I know; I’m just six years old.”

primrose path

But then again, April showers do bring May flowers. Not sure what May, June and July showers bring. Oh wait , I do; glorious berries. The good news is we broke a rain record yesterday and still had a glorious day and spirited easter egg hunt, though toward the end it began to resemble pint-size mud wrestling.

What I was blogging about a year ago: Embracing My Inner American Breakfast

Baked Beans, Bamboo & Bees: Recipe for a Mason Orchard Bee Home

How-To

Tom

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April 8, 2009

24

One can, a bunch of bamboo and one home for your mason orchard bees

How to Build a Mason Orchard Bee Nest, House

I discovered the benefits of Mason Orchard Bees years ago when I stumbled upon Brian Griffin of Knox Cellars at the Washington State Flower and Garden Show. He was selling bee starter kits and generously sharing his keen knowledge of this unsung native pollinator. In the cool, wet springs (two adjectives also suited for fall and winter) of the Maritime Northwest, Mason Orchard bees are little pollinating powerhouses at a time when honey and bumble bees are holed up in their hives. As grateful as I am to these solitary, gentle critters, there have been some years when I’ve had to take matters into my own hands and pollinate by hand. (And yes, I do look relatively ridiculous, paint brush in hand.)

Over the years, I’ve created my own Mason Orchard Bee boxes out of found materials, everything from paper straws in milk cartons to blocks of fir drilled with 5/16 inch holes to accommodate the bee larva. My latest bee house design is basically free to make and calls on tin cans and hollow sticks to do the job.

You’ll need:

Tall tin can
Bamboo (cut into small tubes)
One screw

Assembly is a cinch. I usually wash out an empty can Bush’s Baked Beans (a staple here and unfortunate favorite of Boz and Gracie). I then drill a small hole in the bottom of the can and tighten one screw through it so the can is perpendicular to an exterior wall. It’s best placed under a sheltered eave. Mine are attached to my barn and chicken coop.

When the can is secure, I fill the can with bamboo cut into even tubes not to exceed the end of the can. You want them to stay dry as possible. Shoot for bamboo with hollow cores around 5/16 inch diameter. Tah dah, you’re done. The bees pollinate for a short but important time in early spring and then lay eggs in the tube that will hatch next spring as whole new generation of welcomed pollinators.

Update: This photo was taken a year later, after native mason orchard bees moved in. Note the capped mud ends on the bamboo tubes. The ‘nests’ are placed under the eaves of my chicken coop for a little weather protection.

Mason and Native Bee related links:

What I was blogging about a year ago: How to Plant a Bareroot Tree

Violets: Sweet Scent of Spring’s Arrival

Plants I Love

Tom

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March 26, 2009

12

Violets: Sweet Scent of Spring’s Arrival

Early spring has few players in the garden that awaken the spirit and the landscape like violets. I especially like how they seem to appear overnight through a rush of brittle leaves like petaled placards declaring winter is behind us. Botanically speaking, they’re viola odorata. Don’t let their meek presence fool you; they pack a heady, lasting punch of sweet perfume.

When not being watered by wayward bulldogs, violets enjoy growing and spreading in dappled sunlight or light shade. In my garden they need little care and all but disappear in the summer resting up for their winter sleep and spring review.

A cordial glass of violets within arm’s reach and a well-placed nose can make a quiet moment magical; one more sniff and you’re guaranteed a self-induced daydream.

Orange Peels: Too Good to Toss, Candy Them

Tom

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March 21, 2009

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Orange Peels: Too Good to Toss, Candy Them

Candied Orange Peels – Sweet treats rich in flavor!

Candied orange peels left hanging to dry

It’s no secret I hate to throw things out. A spot inspection of my pantry would likely surrender enough yogurt containers to fashion a full-size igloo or satisfy the production needs of a Yoplait plant. And while all that I glean is not gold, orange peels are a strong exception. In fact, I argue it’s one of the best uses for California and Florida’s finest fruit. No denying, a fresh juicy orange is an exceptional treat, but candied orange peel takes citrus to a whole new level of edibility.

It’s the perfect marriage of texture and flavor. Dip them in dark chocolate (known as an orangette) and your tastebuds won’t know what hit them. I first started making candied orange peels after a sweet visit to David Lebovitz’s blog who wrote about them in his Quick Mincement Pie Recipe. I’ve been hooked ever since.

Before you slice one orange, see my tips below to simplify the process and enhance the flavor at the same time .

Tips for making candied orange peels:

Use organic oranges, no telling what’s on the sprayed variety.
Don’t soak rinds in salt water (step one in killing any and all flavor)
Don’t boil rinds in water and drain repeatedly before adding to sugar syrup (step two in ensuring you have nothing more than a flavorless chew toy)
I add sliced peels directly to the pan as I eat oranges. I just keep them in a lidded stainless steel pan on the stove. I add peels, simmer, cool…add more, simmer, cool until I have a good batch.
After racked to dry but tacky to touch, I dredge some in sugar, as seen in last photo–a very fine candy.
Chop up some candied peels to use in baking, or on top of steel cut oats, or tossed in salads
Save syrup (and spike with Grand Marnier) for a million uses as a flavor syrup

Here are the basics steps and the Candied Orange Peel Recipe

Commute With a View, When Daylight and Clouds Allow

Vashon Living

Tom

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March 15, 2009

1

Commute With a View, When Daylight and Clouds Allow

It’s a dark and lonely commute by ferry in the winter (as seen on the covered bow deck)

Light at last! April 15, 2009 at 0623 PT, Mt. Rainier reveals itself

May 01, 2009 at 0622 PT, ah…a daylight commute at last

I bid “Good morning” to Mt. Rainier and toast the Olympic range on my return home. As commutes go, I would wager that few are as stunning. When I moved to Vashon Island (while retaining my day job in the city), I promised myself the beauty of Puget Sound would not go unnoticed on my daily ferry run, that the majesty of this place would not be diminished by familiarity and routine. Years later, I’m happy to report that no written passage, no cordial conversation, no wistful daydream can upstage the spectacle that rises above the ferry’s wake on any given horizon line on any given day. Add the gift of a clear sky and rogue cloud and you’re rendered speechless and small.

The moods of Puget Sound (and its ferry-riding commuters) are many. Here are some coming-and-going photos of my commute with a view, when clouds allow.

Going: SE toward Mt. Rainier Home: NW to The Olympics

March 02, 2009 at 0635 PT March 02, 2009 at 1700 PT

March 06, 2009 at 0820 PT March 12, 2009 at 1706 PT

May 21, 2009 at 1647 PT, heading home to Vashon on a gloriously clear day, a view of the Olympics from start to finish with Blake Island in the foreground and the southern end of Bainbridge Island just to the north.

Boz and Gracie Are Real Cards, Alright

Boz & Gracie

Tom

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March 6, 2009

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Bullish on Biscuits: Boz and Gracie grace a card from Great Dog Greetings

What’s not to love about a Bulldog mug? It’s hard to believe so much cuteness can be packed into one canine and it still has room for wrinkles. For those who comment, “It’s a face only a mother could love.” Boz and Gracie recognize such remarks are keen barometers of whom one should or should not waste a wet and well-placed canine kiss on. They’d certainly have one for Rondi Lightmark , a friend and photographer who appreciates their inner and outer bulldog beauty. She just dropped off a sample of her latest photo brilliance: Bullish on Biscuits, a greeting card prominently featuring Boz and Gracie in my beater truck, seemingly ready for their next adventure, or biscuit, or close-up as the case may be.

Boz is not so sure that’s his best side; Gracie has yet to weigh in.

Raising Canes: Tulameen Raspberry a Juicy Choice!

Growing Fruit

Tom

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February 27, 2009

47

Raising Canes: Tulameen Raspberry a Juicy Choice!

Clockwise, starting bottom left: Tulameen raspberries 1) in my garden mid-July, 2) swimming in homemade ice cream, 3) sharing counter space with a pint of golden raspberries and 4) calling me to breakfast in the company of cream and sugar.

It may be our ‘gift’ of cloudy skies or the loamy soil kindly left behind by thousand of years of glaciers not staying put, but whatever it is the Pacific Northwest is berry country–a region so well-suited to growing cane fruit, that my blackberry hedgerow is an impenetable wall, formidable enough to block deer and puncture tractor tires. On the kinder, gentler side of berry genetics is the raspberry, an upright cane tame enough for an urban garden and delicious enough that one berry is ample reward (every ten seconds).

What’s the best raspberry to plant? My favorite variety (hands down) is the Tulameen raspberry. It grows in a clumping fashion, has minimal thorns and produces berries the size of cherries that yield to a gentle pull when harvested. They keep and freeze well, but in my kitchen lack of willpower keeps them a stranger to cold storage. They seem just as delicious on ice cream as on whipped cream as on your palm awaiting to be plucked up and popped into your mouth. If your garden is missing Tulameen raspberries, you’re missing an opportunity for a juicy summer treat.

Debonair in Duct Tape at Any Age

Tomagrams

Tom

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February 21, 2009

6

Are you ever too old for duct-taped glasses? Nah…

Recently my eyeglasses had an unfortunate encounter with a well-placed foot. The good news is that at the time, they were not on my head. My eyewear journey has been a fire drill of fashion do’s and don’t’s along the way. There was the Harold Lloyd phase, 1920’s round specs framing an equally round face; the early Elton John years (rhinestones notwithstanding), where the surface area of the eyeglass easily covered a third of my mug; and the several pair of horn rims that bespoke of (in my mind) old money and beach houses.

Oddly, the ones I wear now are much like my first pair. I call them my modified Cary Grants, hip now but not in fifth grade. By seventh grade I had upgraded to wire rims, shiny gold halos around my eyes, much like those crowning the countenance of one John Denver. What did they all have in common? Nary a one had missed the indignity of being bandaged in silver duct tape during their stints on my fashion-forward face.

So today, I look in the mirror and thank the chemical and materials engineers of 3M, not only for their invention that saved both a space mission and my ability to see clearly, but for their never-ending quest to innovate and afford me the color option of basic black duct tape—a milestone that enables this fashion faux pas to believe he can be debonair in duct tape at any age.

Boz Likes to Help With the Dishes

Tom

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February 15, 2009

9

Boz: focused and dutiful in his quest to leave no crumb unaccounted for

What’s my formula for sparkling dishes?

One vintage Whirlpool dishwasher
One determined, tidbit-obsessed pooch
An opened dishwasher door that can support 60 pounds of rockin’ bulldog
Having a mindset that indulges such unrefined–albeit entertaining–behavior.
Ensuring that invited dinner guests don’t read this blog post.

Sweet New Job for an Old Sugar Bowl

Tomagrams

Tom

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February 10, 2009

2

One morning when coffee had no effect on coaxing my eyes open and the kitchen counter engaged in its normal trickery by retreating two inches from my reach, a favorite sugar bowl found itself on a fast track to the floor. The sugar bomb didn’t miss a corner and Boz and Gracie worked faster and more effectively than any Swiffer Sweeper ever had. Super glue, a wee bit of patience and a handful of porcelain puzzle pieces later, the fractured bowl reemerged whole again, well almost.

Its rim of chipped teeth grinned on the way to the pantry, unaware of its new resting place on a pile of refined refugees sporting similar repairs. Too pretty to toss, I retrieved the sugar bowl for an unlikely audition as a paint pot for trim work. The handle fit snuggly through the thumb; the lid lip was the perfect place to cut extra paint off the brush. And while the artisans of Limoges could never have foreseen this role for their handywork, I think they’d agree that a longer life for anything as special–albeit chipped and glued–holds something just as sweet as sugar.