Apple Picking Time!

Have you ever had a childhood memory that was so lovely you felt it was only right that you shared the experience with your children? Well I do and so I did. Last Sunday I packed up the kids, the hubs (who worked a double shift the day before and was beyond exhausted) my parents and a picnic basket and headed to Tree-Mendus Fruit orchard in Eau Claire, Michigan.

My heart raced as we approached the orchard and I reminisced with my kids how their uncles managed to annoy the mounted orchard cop (no kidding, they had a lady on horseback who monitored all the pickers and caught my brothers scaling trees to get to the highest fruit.) Apples were launched from high places into waiting baskets below. My mom and I were in charge of catching the apples and my dad was in charge of catching the boys.We tend not to follow the rules from time to time. It's a Blackmore thing and keeps life interesting!

Bins full of apples lined the aisles of the orchard's shop.

The orchard shop, where you registered to pick, housed a selection of jams, syrups and coffee mugs in addition to various kitschy items. One wall of the shop, that was off limits to customers, contained an incredible selection of heirloom apples whose beauty was revealed at the sampling counter.

Trays set on the counter contained an assortment of heirloom apples grown at the orchard. Each apple was labeled with it's name and we could pick and choose what we wanted to try.

My girls kept asking to sample and the gentleman behind the counter was a good sport. Fortunate for us we were the first customers that morning so there were no lines.

I wish I could remember the name of this beauty. Have you ever seen one with flesh like this?

After we bought an assortment of heirlooms, we headed out to the orchard with our 3-gallon buckets to start picking. My goal was to accumulate an assortment of tart apples for pie. Lots of pie. So we got to picking until my dad discovered the Honeycrisp. And this is what happened...

 
No more talking or picking. Just relishing every bite.

Funny how time skews your memory. The trees seemed so much bigger 35 years ago, but then I was only six and everything's bigger when you're six. What I remember most about that day and this one was the feeling of pure joy. To be with the ones you love making memories...and eventually, lots of pie.

We're not big fans of the selfie but we figured what the hell. Photo-bomb courtesy of Abigail.

Perhaps someday these two gals will return with their kiddos.

 

Turds... 

(and other discoveries under the snow)

Turds. Nuf said.

They're the bane of my garden and about the only thing that invokes murderous thoughts. Piles of their perfect, spherical turds decorate my backyard like pigeon poop on a windshield. As the snow melts, I'm reminded of his (or her) omnipresence. My husband swears one particularly fat one (who likes to chill on our patio frequently) flips me off every time he sees me. I send the dog out, she loves a good chase, yelling "Get that rabbit!" and watch delightfully as she rips through the yard, zigging and zagging until he and his little white tail disappear under the fence. Next time I mumble, next time. Is that bad? 

Pussy willow catkins

The pussy willow trees in the back corner of my yard are fuzzy and white, kinda like that darn rabbit's tail, but enough about the rabbit. They should be humming soon with honeybees and we'll enjoy standing among the trees as they go about their business, completely undisturbed by our presence. It's wonderful.
 

A new critter has come to town.

During my backyard walkabout yesterday, I discovered an interesting labyrinth that lay hidden until the snow melted and ran from my patio to the veggie boxes. Voles. Great. These mice-like rodents run trails beneath the snow in search of food like tree bark and shrub branches. Good thing I wrapped the trunk of my tiny Little Twist cherry tree, whose bark would be a perfect delicacy, before the snow arrived. Have to admit I kinda like the backward "S" shape of his trail.

And since I started with turds, I'll end with them. Yesterday marked my traditional poop pickup, where I tip-toe and jump around the yard on the first warm day after the snow has melted, shovel and bags in hand, to pick up all the lovely presents my dog left but that became covered with snow. Yep, that's right. Those two bags in the foreground are full and I was just finishing up when my daughter snapped this. As I tied this last bag, Stella (my dog named so my husband could channel his inner Marlon Brando) meandered to the back of the yard and took a dump. I think she flipped me off too!

Everything-But-The-Kitchen-Sink Veggie Soup

It's always a challenge coming up with fast, healthful recipes everyday but I struck gold a few nights ago when I raided the cupboards and came up with a soup that has a little bit of everything, with the exception of animal protein which you could certainly add if you have it. I didn't so I made the best of it and came up with something pretty tasty and FULL of veggies. Even my kids ate it!

A warm ciabatta roll completed my veggie soup.

My family loves soup of any kind and I love an opportunity to take things that I typically have and combine them in such a way that causes silence at the dinner table. They're too busy slurping. That's when I know I have a winner.

I'm pretty conscious of sodium in our diets, especially since the hubs has issues with it. His ears turn fire red when he's had too much so all my prepackaged ingredients are either "low sodium" or "no salt added" varieties. I'm a label reader and have been ever since my oldest was diagnosed with nut allergies when she was five.

Feel free to tweak this with whatever you have. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Ingredients:
2 32-oz boxes no salt or reduced sodium chicken stock (I use Kitchen Basics)
1 5-oz bag fresh spinach
5 carrots sliced into circles
1 turnip cut into strips
2 celery stalks, diced
1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 14.5-oz can fire roasted tomatoes
1 can reduced sodium cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
2 cups ditalini pasta (or whatever you have on hand)
2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper
red pepper flakes (optional, we like heat)

Cook pasta separately according to package instructions. Cooking it in the soup will reduce the amount of broth. When finished cooking, rinse and set aside.

Heat olive oil on medium high heat in dutch oven. Add onion, celery, carrots and turnip until softened - about 8 to 10 minutes, stirring frequently. Pour in undrained tomatoes and spinach, stir and cover until spinach wilts (this only takes a few minutes). Add beans and chicken stock, stir and bring to a simmer. Add pasta. Salt and pepper to taste. I add a liberal amount of red pepper flakes.

The Mulch Conundrum 

February can be such a dismal month. Thoughts of  honeybees humming in the pussy willows and fiddle heads unfurling their green grace in the shade garden carry me through. Fortunate for me, I have a TON of reading to catch up on. I'm constantly adding to the list which mostly is composed of gardening and cookbooks that I have little time to get to in the growing season. So February is perfect.

At the top of the list was The Know Maintenance Perennial Garden by Roy Diblik. For those not in the know, Diblik is an incredible plantsman and designer best known for his work with Piet Oudolf on the Lurie Garden in Chicago's Millennium Park. He also designed the plantings around the Shedd Aquarium. As I was reading his book a few weeks ago, an invitation arrived to hear him speak at an Illinois Landscape Design Association meeting. Talk about fortuitous. So I trekked on over to the Oak Park Conservatory to hear a man who knows a thing or two about gardening in clay.

As I listened intently to his ideas on planting and garden composition, something he said jumped out at me.

"Stop following traditions blindly, things are meant to be questioned and changed."

Which got me thinking about an idea I had been considering this past year but was hesitant to embrace. We mulch because that's what we've been told we need to do to conserve water and suppress weeds. I'm all about conservation, and I've been a loyal mulcher for years. Do the Brits mulch? No way. They plant tightly to crowd out weed competition. Funny thing is, this last year I wondered how it would be if I just stopped with the mulch altogether. For whatever reason, his permission to do something I had been contemplating was what I needed. I noticed that when I water, far more water is needed to actually reach the roots because it's first absorbed by the mulch. Likewise for any rainfall. My husband will be happy not to have five yards of wood mulch piled in the driveway this year! And so will I.

He continued:

"Plants are not genetically prepared to linger in years of mulch accumulation. They'll linger beautifully but they won't live. How many of us just want to linger?"

That comment sealed it for me. I've never been one to sit back and idle, and neither will my garden. Thanks Roy! Next time I'll trust my gut.

Do you have the guts to kiss wood mulch goodbye? I'd love to know why or why not.



 

Take This Clay and Shovel It!

I garden in clay. LOTS of it. I also live in a relatively knew home which means that the builder left about an inch of topsoil and a menagerie of buried building artifacts. Screws, nails, pop cans. You name it, it's probably there.

But through it all, over the last decade, I seem to be coming out on top. Sure, I've killed plenty of things. You ain't gardening if you ain't killing something. Fortunate for me, the living outnumber the dead.

I've spoken with so many people who, when they see my garden, say something like "I tried to grow roses years ago but I killed them and gave up." The common thread being that they chose beautiful eye candy (roses are hardly a "beginner" plant) without a working knowledge of their growing conditions. Truth is, we have to start somewhere, but if these starts are met with more failures than successes, we're more likely to throw in the trowel.

I invite you to come along with me as I share great tips, tools, plants, projects and recipes to get you growing. My goal is to inspire you. Small triumphs fuel the fire for growth and lead to great things. 

A red-spotted purple rests on my daughter's fingertips in our backyard garden. I get such a thrill from watching my children marvel at and appreciate the beauty just beyond our door.