Black-eyed Susan

Trivia fact - the Black-eyed Susan has been Maryland's state flower since 1918. 

My foremothers always had abundant patches of Black-eyed Susan. It's a hardy, free-seeding plant and gives a lovely pop of bright yellow to the August flower garden. Back in the day, I was given a baggie full of seeds and told to simply scatter them on the ground. I did and the next year I had lovely flowers. 

These days, I'm down to one plant but now I have hope! For the first time in years, the deer have not come in close enough to eat the buds before they flowered. I have hope of harvesting a crop of seeds to scatter over the manor. 

Black-eyed Susan may be an old-fashioned flower, but I like it. It comes back every year and spreads on its own (usually). Maybe I'll get lucky and end up with a patch to rival that of my grandmother. 

Old-fashioned? No. Black-eyed Susan is the stuff of memories living and blooming today.

The Lady of The Hideaway

Homemade ice cream

We love ice cream. There's no reason to deny it. There's no reason to BUY it, either. 

Here on the manor, we like to eat and we eat a lot of different foods. We disagree about spinach (I like it but he doesn't) but we're in agreement on almost everything else. I've long looked forward to "retiring" and moving towards a more traditional country kitchen. 

Several years ago, we agreed we needed to be more aware of the additives in our food. We didn't toss out half our pantry, but we've gradually moved toward more whole foods and more homemade foods. At the top of our list was ice cream. 

Funny thing about ice cream. If you purchase it, you may be tempted to eat the entire carton to satisfy that craving for smooth texture and sweet taste. With homemade ice cream, we find a very small portion completely satisfies our craving for a dessert or a snack. That's a good thing because the recipe we finally found that we both love is not exactly diet-friendly.

Full disclosure - we found this recipe on YouTube from Laura in the Kitchen. It's so simple it's probably outlawed by the food channels. You need four cups of heavy cream, fourteen ounces of sweetened condensed milk, and vanilla extract to taste. That's it. Nothing fancy and no cooking. 

I whip some air and vanilla into the sweetened condensed milk and set it aside. Then the heavy cream and a bit more vanilla goes into the mixing bowl and I whip that until very stiff peaks form. I have a Kitchen Aid Artisan mixer and I use that for just about everything. 

Once I have the SCM and whipped cream ready, I mix strawberries, peaches, or whatever I want to add into the SCM. Then I slowly fold that into the whipped cream. Once everything is sufficiently blended, the mixture gets poured into a large plastic container, or maybe several small freezer containers, and it goes into the freezer for at least eight hours. Right now, we have Reese cup ice cream. I took five Reese cups and chopped them up in the food processor until no big pieces remained and added it to the ice cream. You can add cocoa powder for chocolate ice cream. Just add the cocoa to the sweetened condensed milk and whip it until thoroughly blended before folding the SCM into the whipped cream. 

Yes, that's a bit of sugar and fat, but ten bites and you feel like you've eaten an entire gallon of store-bought. It's that rich and delicious. Not only do we eat less of it, but we also don't want it every day even though we know it's in the freezer. And speaking of the freezer, you do need to set this out about ten minutes before you dish out portions. With this, frozen means it's frozen hard. 

So is it that the homemade has no additives to trick our brain into thinking we need more, or is it something else? We think it's the former, not the latter. He and I look at the no-fat craze the country went on and we know that was the beginning of the obesity epidemic. Now we have the Keto diet which is all about the fats and people are losing weight. Go figure.

We have a busy day planned and I need to get ready. The sun will be up soon and it will be time to walk away from the computer for a while. Today is once again about apples, and this time, it may include selecting a dwarf tree. We'll have to see. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

A touch of red this year

2004

2020

 From my office, I have a great view of one particular maple tree that always puts on an autumn display. The first picture was taken in 2004 when orange was the color of the year. The tree has grown a lot since then, but it never fails to draw the eye. This year, the color will be redder to red-brown, I think, but October is young yet. 

Sitting atop a little knoll on the edge of the treeline helps with visibility. I've often said it's the only tree I never want to cut down. 

Will it outlast me, here on the manor? I hope so, and I hope whoever comes here after me has an equal appreciation of the manor. Living in the woods isn't for just anyone. If you have any fear of the dark, the woods are not the place for you. 

Perhaps my love of the poet Robert Frost has influenced my choice to live apart. His poem, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," written almost one hundred years ago, speak to me of a magical moment in time. Does it matter where he's been or where he's going? I think not. But in that moment of complete albeit cold solitude, the language of the woods speak to the poet. The woods are lovely dark and deep, this I know at my very core. 

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost (1923)

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy winds and downy flake.

The woods are lovely dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

The Strawberry Jar

It's nothing extraordinary to admit we like strawberries. Unlike a lot of people in the country, I have to admit I can't grow them. Or rather, I've not been able to grow them up to this point in my life. I'm not done with trying. There's always next year, and the year after, and the year after...

At some point in my life, my grandmother gave me her strawberry jar. My grandfather gave me seven strawberry sets of an "ever-bearing" variety, and I planted them in the jar. Nothing. The plants died just to spite me.

In subsequent years we tried again. We tried strawberries in a raised bed, which worked but did nothing to discourage the birds from eating the harvest. We tried making a tiered planter and covering it with a thin cloth. It stopped the birds but not the bugs. 

The bottom line is we've not given up. We acknowledged that strawberries are something that needed to wait until we were both home all day, i.e., retired. That time is just around the corner. I think our decision is to try the tiered bed again. If it still doesn't work, the tiers will look good planted in annuals. 

But what did I do with my grandmother's strawberry jar? 

My grandmother's favorite color was red. She was the first person to tell me to always wear red. (I've since learned my coloring is "winter," meaning reds, pure white, blackest blacks, and cool tones rather than pastels look best on me.) Mam loved red flowers, in particular red begonias (wax plants). And that has been my solution for many years.

Every year, the strawberry jar is planted with six red begonias with parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme in the top. I do this as a remembrance of a woman who loved me well and taught me so much. The strawberry jar sits beside the walk, and so at least twice a day I'm reminded of her. 

I think it's a good thing. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Gratitude in a September walk

Last Sunday I went for a walk in the woods across the road from my house. I'm grateful it's parkland and no houses can be built there. The manor is in a conservation district which means there isn't room for any houses on my side of the road, either. I'm grateful for that, too. 

I walk in those woods frequently, but every walk brings something different. On this walk I saw a little wildflower growing out of a stump, bright orange toadstool/mushroom fungus growing at the base of a tree, and an old tree limb with white mold or whatever growing on it. None of it is new to me, but I was grateful I got to see and photograph all of it. 

I also spotted a few red leaves on the tips of a maple tree branch. Autumn is coming and I'm ready to embrace cooler days. With my life-long dream of spending my days on the manor about to come 

true, autumn is the very best time for new beginnings. 

Now it's time to work on the dream of turning an unused bedroom in my house into a butler's pantry. I can't wait to see all my stockpots, baking dishes, and small appliances on a shelf we can both easily access as we get older. No more climbing onto a step stool or going up and down the basement stairs. 

Life at Holly Tree Manor has always been good, and now it will be better. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor (The Hideaway)

A short video of our babbling brook:

A fun new tool for on the Manor

The year 2020 being what it is, I've had to wait, wait, wait to receive items I've ordered. Time was, if I wanted a Stihl product, it would be on the shelf for immediate purchase. Not this year. It took four months to get this little gizmo - a Stihl GTA26. 

I think they call this thing a pruner. We call it a baby chain saw. It's lightweight and battery-powered. A very cool addition to our arsenal.  

I probably shouldn't rant about the local Stihl dealer, which is also our John Deere dealer, but I think I will. 

What a pack of misogynists! When a woman walks in the door, they all stop and glare. I'm not militant but damn. I get pissed off every time. But the spousal unit insisted we go there instead of taking a day trek to a dealership about an hour away (which would have been a pleasant afternoon drive). 

But - pandemic. COVID-19. Gotta stay close to home. 

When I told the guys at the John Deere/Stihl dealership what I wanted they said 'no problem, we'll get it ordered'. Sure they did. They ordered a big, very expensive full-sized chainsaw. Yes, I'd like to have one of those someday, but not that day. I not-so-politely told them no, and don't try to work an up-sell on me again. I want a GTA26 and if you won't get it for me, the people in W---r or F---k will. 

I've got my baby chainsaw and I like it. 

The (not-so-ladylike) Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Buck rub

buck rub on a downed tree

The neighborhood buck has come to visit, and he left a calling card - a buck rub. 

In the summer of 2019, one of the cherry trees out in the "west forty" toppled over for no apparent reason. It happens when you have a lot of trees. We don't really question the why of it, being accepting of nature's ways. It's slated for firewood, having had a season to dry. Allowing it to dry will make it easier to cut and split, and if it still has too much moisture in it, we'll burn it next year. There's no reason to get excited about it. Life on the manor unfolds at its own pace. 

This morning, when I stepped into my sunroom office, I noticed two things. First, the big poplar tree on the fringe of the yard dropped a lot of leaves overnight, and two, the buck rub. Buck rub happens as the bucks scrape their new antlers on whatever object strikes their fancy to rub off the velvet that has protected their antlers as they grew out over the summer. Yes, whitetail bucks grow a set of new antlers each year. If you're very lucky, you could be walking in the woods and find last year's set. You can even train your dog to scent them out.  

I've seen the young four-point buck in the woods, with his little harem of three doe and four fawns. I doubt the fawns of 2020 are his, but next year, those born will most assuredly be his. He must have that certain something since he already has the ladies lined up. 

I'm also very happy he chose a downed tree for a rub. There are visible gouges in the wood, deep enough to damage a living tree, or even kill one. That's what happened to an Ash tree twenty years ago, long before the borer beetle invaded. 

As destructive as deer can be, I'm glad to have them around. They are shy, graceful things when they're not eating everything in sight. Hunting them used to disturb me, but I know now that if there is no hunt, up to one-third of the animals in this area may starve to death over the winter. A quick death is preferable. 

But when hunting season begins, I step outside and talk to the local deer, advising them to stay on the manor and be safe. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Morning glories

Yesterday, on my way to work, I drove past the local UM Church, generally referred to as the 'lower church' by the long-time residents of my community. That's 'lower' as in at the bottom of the mountain, not 'lower' as in a reflection of its community status. To my joy and amazement, I noticed the edge of the cornfield situated across the road from the church. It was laden with morning glory vines, glowing in varied shades of pink and purple in the sunlight. 

In all my years I've never before seen so many morning glories blooming in one place. I don't know what the farmer might think of it, but it was stunning. I turned the car around and went back to take a few pictures, none of which do justice to the beauty of the moment. 

Moments like that cannot be planned. They simply happen if a person is open to receiving them. Why did I choose to take that road to work yesterday? Whether I take the first or second turn to go to the highway doesn't matter. It's simply a matter of about half a mile on a country road vs. driving that half-mile on a two-lane highway. I have no set preference. Some days I take the first turn, other days the second. Being yesterday was a Friday, had I taken the first turn, I'd never have seen this as it will be Tuesday before I pass that way again and the blooms will be faded by then.

I wonder if that's a metaphor for life. Do we too often jump off on the first road, or opportunity, and miss what the next road has to offer us? We must make choices to move forward in our lives, and yet we often agonize if we're making the right one. And then a 'yesterday' happens to us. 

Among the many things I wanted to do yesterday was call my pension fund manager and get the numbers. How much is in my employee account, how much is in my employer account, and the three pay-out options for me. 

I'm not a big believer in signs. I think when we have a decision to make, our subconscious mind, if given time, works it out for us. What one may suddenly see as a sign, is actually a notice that we've thought about something long enough and it's time to act. Could I be mistaken in that? Certainly.

Was driving on that particular stretch of road to see that amazing vista of morning glories a sign? Was I being shown it's time to take the time to enjoy the simple country pleasures that mean so much to me? Did the universe use that long, long row of morning glories to tell me to be at peace and celebrate my decision? I'd like to think it did.

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Small process candied jalapenos

Cowboy Candy (candied jalapeno peppers)

Living in the year 2020 has meant I've needed to become determinedly focused on the items in my pantry and freezer. While I can't expand the space inside my freezer, I've been quite able to expand the space allotted to pantry items. 

We've been processing small batches of fresh produce. It's not enough to get us through to next year, but it is laying the groundwork for future seasons. Canning jars are more expensive than ever. A pressure canner now costs $100 and up, although I'm not sure I'm going that route. My great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother only ever water-bath canned and nobody died from food poisoning. If the contents of a jar looked bad, 
which it rarely did, the contents were dumped on the compost pile. And still, nobody died from the compost. 

Food canning isn't new. I confess I didn't pay enough attention to my grandmother when she was deep into the canning season. But maybe I picked up more information than I thought. The canning process isn't foreign to me. 

Here on the manor, we take the time to plan our next steps in managing our resources be it a cash outlay or spending our time. It will take time to build up a reserve of canning jars, but it will be worth it in the end. This weekend I was able to obtain a small number of jalapeno peppers which made two pints of Cowboy Candy (candied jalapenos). It may not sound like much, but it helped reacquaint me with the canning process. Planning ahead, I'll plant my own pepper patch next season and be able to make more than two pints.

While none of my foremothers probably ever touched a jalapeno (much less ate one), I like feeling a connection to something that was an important part of their summers. For my great-grandmother, canning meant having food available for a year. In her day, one didn't just zip off to the grocery store in a heated automobile in the middle of January. For my grandmother, canning preserved the bountiful harvests my grandfather provided. They made it through the Great Depression because of those harvests, and she was able to share with family and neighbors in need. In later years, she shared part of the harvest with my mother and me. 

My mother canned because she liked to have better fruit available. She was also a fan of jellies and jams and we had a lot of those on hand. In my mother's time, hopping into the car and going to town for groceries was easier than canning and preserving. Grocery shopping was her norm, and so it's been in my time up until The Year of Our Lord 2020. 

We've already started to be more aware of what is in the products we purchase to eat and taken steps to reduce food additives. This year has opened our eyes to how fragile our supply lines are. So now I make plans and take steps to preserve our life here on the manor, one jar at a time. May that life remain fruitful. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Not all garden scraps are scraps

A few years ago I became a fan of Pinterest. Back in the day, before it was taken over by advertisers, it was a gold mine of a full range of ideas from cooking to crafts to gardening. It became my habit to browse in the wee hours of the morning, before dawn, with a cup of coffee at the ready. One of the gardening ideas I came across was regrowing celery.

The method is pretty easy. Buy a stalk of celery and use it, saving about three inches of the root. Then set the root in a small bowl of water, using toothpicks if necessary to keep the root upright. Every other day, change out the water to keep it fresh. I proceeded to do that and in about two weeks, I had roots forming. It was time to plant the root in dirt. 

I didn't do anything fancy. I got a flower pot that had potting soil in it, dug a hole about an inch deep, and plopped the root in and backfilled. Since the roots were used to growing in water, I made sure to keep the dirt moist. In a matter of days, ribs began to grow. 

So far, I've harvested a few ribs for use in cooking. I sampled for taste and found it to be a little stronger flavor than the original stalk, but that's okay. It simply means I'll use less in cooking. 

I now have two plants growing and it's time to move them out of the flower pots and into a grow bag for better tending. The plants themselves are very attractive, but I need to tie up the ribs so they grow better. 

Since the experiment with celery worked, I visited YouTube and have discovered there are a lot more "scraps" you can replant. Onions, spring onions, garlic, ginger, romaine lettuce, leeks, beets for the greens, carrots for the greens, cabbage, some herbs, and potatoes and sweet potatoes. I have several sprouted potatoes at the moment, so I'm going to plant them today. I don't expect to get a real harvest, just test the theory. 

All of this is prepping for my retirement years and is an enjoyable hobby now. The manor is my own piece of Eden. How much better it will be when I'm able to enjoy the dawn in my garden every day.

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor