Garden and Yard Update

Feeling a bit restless early Saturday morning, I decided to finally address the weeds in the recent, rain soaked softness of the vegetable garden. In 2 hours time I managed to pluck two thirds of the entire weedy mess. Then the sun rose above the trees and the heat and humidity drove me back inside (it is Labor Day weekend after all…don’t want to work too hard). So, what else remains in the garden? Three bean plans have a total of about 9 drying bean pods. Ten carrots sit amongst a yet-to-be-weeded plot of weeds. Fifteen diminutive cornstalks, of a second planting, hardly rise above the snaking watermelon vines. Resting on the vines are two cannonball size melons. Five okra stalks stand about 5 feet tall, now spired with multiple pods. Tomatoes continue to droop and drop; a few burst after the tropical deluge, midweek. Arugula remains the lone green leaf in the garden, since I neglected to start new lettuce. I pulled the squashes and cucumbers (the squashes because they looked tired, and the cucumbers because we’ve had our fill). Leeks are still green. The sunflower, huge, now follows the force of gravity. I’ll cut it soon.

A walk around the yard revealed the late summer wild blooms.

My Fingers Crossed

Last weekend we drove 30 mile west to Cedarock Park near the revolutionary battlegrounds of Alamance County. The park sits atop a fielded ridge, then slopes down and around through a mixed hardwood and piney bottomland. Small streams, creeks, and rivers descend and mix here in a watershed headed to the distant Cape Fear River. On this day and in this season, the land was dry. The creekbeds lay stony. The bigger streams did not stream, but sat mucky and dank. Raccoon tracks circled the edges where the dark water pooled into mosquito havens.

Cedarock Park has a surprising array of recreational offerings including disc golf, bridle trails, picnic space, canoeing (given adequate water levels), jungle-gyms for the kids, and a historic farmstead complete with goats, sheep, cows, and a mule.
Sometimes parks with such a variety of attractions tend to get overused, with roughly worn trails, and littered landscapes. But the park looked good during our visit.

We focused on the hiking trails and managed to not get too lost despite the relatively poorly marked routes and lacking a map (yep, we deserved it). A muggy, but shady, hour amongst the trees led us through several woodland habitats over moderately changing elevation. From the photos, you'll see a few sites of note. Some impressive boulders dot the trails and hillsides. If you like Bald Cypress(I forgot to photo), there are several healthy specimens standing watch over Rock Creek, apparently planted early last century. A monster American Beech, with exposed root mass, graces the side of an old, hidden footpath near the Old Mill Dam (most people probably miss it...not the Dam).

***Warning: The following contains nerdy (but earnest) tree observations***

A sight that disturbed me initially was the white fungus I saw on the small branches of a few young Beech trees. On the ground below these trees was a gray moldy residue that looked like death. I've seen the blights that have destroyed many of the northern Beeches, and I was suddenly aware they might be moving south. Ugh.
However, I've since done a little research with encouraging results. What I saw was likely the Beech Blight Aphid which apparently does only minor damage to small limbs.
I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

We had a warm, good time in Alamance. We bought a bottled Nehi Peach at the nearby gas station. Next time we'll visit during one of the Farmstead Exhibitions...maybe feed the goats and bray at the mule.

Pea Creek and Dunnagan

Our Sunday Walk was along the Eno. We took the Pea Creek and Dunnagan trails in late morning under a dense green canopy. We had planned for sun and heat, but were pleased to have coolish gray humidity. I thought it might rain at any moment. It didn't. We had not taken this route before. We will do it again. More than any of my walks along the Eno, this one most reminded me of my Spring canoe trips along the same course. This trail is so close to the water, you hear it, smell it, breath it. It asks you to join it for a distance. Of my times on this water, I've written much. The words are bound in memory logs and on the bedside shelves. I did not canoe the long Eno this year. This walk begged my return. We'll see what next Spring brings.

Looked Eye to Eye

Going Green, Going Local, Going Organic, Going Crazy, Going Around in Circles. I’m hearing and seeing these words and phrases more often it seems. To be honest I like these ideas. (well not the Going Crazy, and Going Around in Circles…those are just the funny counterpoints I thought would temper the tone of that opening sentence. Did it work?)
I’m going to lump those values into the grand category of “Going Sustainable.” As the verbiage suggests, we are not necessarily there yet, but we are “going” there. I use "sustainable" to define actions worthy and capable of being maintained for "a good long while." I think these trends and fads are worthwhile experiences. Why not “Go” in a different direction from time to time? You know, just to see if it works. I don’t mean to be political here, (I’m too hypocritical for that) but I do mean to lend a voice of experience, however minor my experience might be.

I‘ve raised a modest bed of vegetables for three years now. It’s a hobby, it’s an outdoor activity I enjoy, it brings good food to my table, and it brings me immense pride from time to time. Yes it also brings some back pain, sunburn, bug bites, dirty fingernails, occasional frustration, and it demands extra time when I don’t have it. But it seems to be working so far, so I plan to keep going. It makes me want to support those around me who are committing their lives to providing good food for us.

We drove north for 20 miles on Saturday to the rolling, tree lined pastures of Baldwin Family Farms. We do this periodically to restock on beef. Yes, in addition to my veggies, we like the taste of beef. We like it even better when we know how it is raised. On this visit, we met Mr. V. Mac who hand picked our chosen cuts. In the process, he described, with earnest pride and unpretentious confidence, the history and lives of his cattle…of our food. We thanked him. We trusted him. In a global economy, the producer-consumer relationship is seldom sealed with a handshake. Trust is rarely tangible. As we headed home, we stopped along the fenceline, and scanned the green acres… looked eye to eye with our sustenance.

Later that evening we cooked and shared a meal of local foods with close friends.
I hope to maintain these actions for a good, long while.

To Keep a Fresh Outlook

To get to our house you turn left onto a short dead end road. I do it every day. As soon as you make the left turn you’ll see our small house on the second lot on the right. The first lot on the right is woodland and creekland. Edging the road is a roughcut utility line where only fast growing vegetation can vegetate. Hidden beer bottles and Wendy’s cups get periodically pulverized by the county mowers. Occasionally, when the weather is just right, wildflowers rise above the mat. Some don’t need to rise to be seen; their brilliance shines.

Usually when I take the left turn, I’m thinking of home, of food, of taking my shoes off. Too often I’ll cut that corner tightly and then swerve oh-so-gently around an oncoming neighbor, quickly giving them a half-smile-sorry-nod. If I’m making that left turn on foot or bike, I’m usually sweatstained and muscleweary, with tunnel vision focused on the approaching front door. I’m not saying I never scan the ditches or gaze the treeline, but around the middle of each season the views tend to grow similar, less engaging.

On Saturday, Heather was driving and I was the passenger. We finished a long day of errands in a couple towns and were headed home. I didn’t have plans. I didn’t have hunger. I had air conditioning on and my seat reclined one notch beyond the usual. As we made that left hand turn, Heather took it at a reasonable pace (good job Heather!) which placed me closer to the right side of the road than I had been in awhile. Something caught my eye. I had to think about it for a few seconds before alerting Heather with an “Um, back up!” I guess I didn’t explain my reasoning. She shot me a “what now?” look though I could see the curiosity in her rolling eyes. She pulled into the driveway and then pulled back out, delivering me to my discovery. “Ohh” she said softly. I jumped out of the car into the melting afternoon heat and stumbled through the prickly underbrush. I just stood in awe over the exotic stranger. Unlike in the photo I took today, its petals were draped like a cloak. It was only warming up that first day. Presently it radiates.

I’ve been driving much slower now when I make that left turn. I’ve stopped at the corner every time since Saturday. Though the Dog Days are upon us, we need not grow stagnant. I owe much thanks to this Carolina Lily, for reminding me to keep a fresh outlook. Oh, yes, and a big thanks to Heather for driving.