Wordless Wednesday: Lily

I could take a thousand pictures of the lily and never tire of its beauty. Bold, crisp, arresting flower that it is.


Lily photo, by L.L. Barkat.

Formerly Known As Delicious

Above: homemade bread topped with melted cheddar and fresh garden stuff... chopped red russian baby kale, chives, garlic seed-head, and basil. Drizzled with olive oil. Sprinkled with salt and pepper. Totally out of this world.


As a child, I loved to go to my grandmother's house. She grew vegetables in army quantities... potatoes, zucchini, carrots, tomatoes, peas, green beans. Her land also swelled with fruit... cherries, mulberries, gooseberries, raspberries, strawberries, currants, blackberries, plums, pears. I knew what a real vegetable tasted like. I understood fruit beyond canned cocktail.

In Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Barbara Kingsolver discusses a generation of children — our children — whose life expectancy will be shorter than the previous generation's. And it's largely due to what we're feeding them.

Some of it is our own fault. We live with the mantra of "convenience", sacrificing homemade meals to the gods of busyness. And some of it is a more subtle problem. The fruits and veggies, especially those taken out of season, just don't taste like they used to. Why should we expect our kids to want them?

I like the way Kingsolver explains the loss of deliciousness...

"How did supermarket vegetables lose their palatability, with so many people right there watching? The Case of the Murdered Flavor was a contract killing, as it turns out, and long-distance travel lies at the heart of the plot." (p.48) This plot centers largely on the breeding of "indestructible vegetables...creations that still looked decent after a road trip." Forget about the whole issue of being picked green or sitting for weeks before landing on our plates.

Maybe the place to start is to hand our children a hoe and a seed packet, then later a watering can, and finally a morning of harvest. Whether we let them wield a knife in the kitchen, to help serve it up, will be according to our level of bravery.

I can say that this has worked in part for me. We're still trying to cultivate tomato love. But squash and cucumbers are in the bag. Not the grocery bag mind you. Just the one that my kids label, "I'll eat this, because it's home-grown delicious."


"Fresh Herb Sandwich Above Sara's First Nine Patch Square." Photo, by L.L. Barkat.

Green Inventions Invitation: if you write a related post and LINK back here, let me know and I'll link to yours.

NEW LINKS TO THIS POST:

L.L.'s Tomato Abstinence

Acceptance

When I first moved to this tiny tudor on the hill, I had visions. Of tomatoes and green beans, corn and blackberries, peaches and kiwi. I wanted to make my tiny parcel into a lush mini-farm of fruits and vegetables. I even considered giving some of the bumper crops to my local soup kitchen.

Well.

Tomatoes won't grow here. Not enough sun. Green beans and corn can't get the proper space (unless one is happy with enough plants to yield 10 beans, 2 ears of corn). My spouse didn't want any more trees on the property. And I did plant kiwi, but one of the plants died, and you need two (male and female) and I don't know which one is still thriving (kiwi are uncooperative that way... they don't wear dresses or ties so you can tell them apart).

So.

I began to learn the discipline of acceptance. As it turns out, I have a good number of wild edibles that are quite happy here. My herb garden grows in spite of me. Snap peas climb the hemlocks. Blueberries like my acidic soil. Peppers thrive in the front yard, against prevailing social convention (and I'm trying tomatoes there this year too).

Maybe this is the lesson I need in many areas of life. To put aside my visions, if only for a season...to see what wants to, will even delight to, grow.


Mint in the Rock Garden photo, by L.L. Barkat.

Green Inventions Invitation: if you write a related post and LINK back here, let me know and I'll link to yours.

Lawn Care

I find the term "lawn care" ironic. Care implies knowledge, first of all. And compassion. It means I do not think of myself first.

Yet, when it comes to lawn care, I am tempted to do the opposite.

- I want to think first of my neighborhood reputation. (Look at the Barkat lawn!)

- I desire to do what is simplest, requiring the least amount of knowledge; thus, I am faced with the temptation to use a chemical fix. (See Craver's discussions on dandelions and a mysterious chemical and herbicide temptations. Very thought provoking.)

- Indeed, society asks me to care very little for the creatures that live in my lawn, walk on it, or receive its runoff. (Which means, ultimately, I am asked not to care for my own health or that of my children's generation.)

So, I was excited to find these, on How to Keep a Chemical-Free Lawn and How to Create a Lawn That's Sustainable. Just a little advice, to put me on my way to lawn care. The kind without irony.


Green Inventions Invitation: if you write a related post and LINK back here, let me know and I'll link to yours.

Front lawn photo, by L.L. Barkat.

Wordless Wednesday: Redemption

May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. Psalm 126:5


On the Way to Secret Spot, photo by L.L. Barkat.

Wordless Wednesday: Garden

"This land that was desolate has become like the garden of Eden..." Ezekial 36:35


Painting by Saima Barkat. Used with permission.