Lifescapes

Drought-breaker!

At last, after nearly five years of drought, there's been enough rain to refill our 17-acre lake and recharge the little creek that runs along the western border of our homestead. Sadly, the rains were catastrophic south of us, and the Blanco River flooded Wimberley, one of the villages that occasionally appear in the China Bayles series. As the last update, two families are still missing. There's more rain due today across the Hill Country, due to a persistent dip in the jet stream, a strengthening El Nino in the western Pacific, and a warming Gulf that sends plenty of moisture in our direction. A tornado watch, too--the weekend storm spawned a radar-spotted tornado five miles northeast of us. I'm ready to head for Archie Bunker if the weather gurus say the word. Given the weather, Bill is cutting his New Mexico trip short. He'll be home tomorrow.

Book report. I've been working the past couple of weeks on the Fifties memoir I'm writing with my brother John, which we'll likely publish in 2016. One important outcome of the project has been the closeness it's created between us. John and I were busy with careers and families for most of our adult lives and were in touch only intermittently. We started working on the memoir about 18 months ago, and now it's a rare day when we don't exchange emails. We see our family past in pretty much the same way, so we haven't had to cope with any of the sibling disagreements that plague some families. The research and writing have been interesting and enjoyable, especially since from this distance (fifty-some years) we see the family skeletons a little more clearly and their place in the mysteries that confounded us when we were kids.

Garden report. Anybody want a bushel of yellow crookneck squash? The zucchinis are coming on, too. My favorite way to prepare these tender spring squash: saute in plenty of butter with mushrooms, peas, green onions, garlic, and a little chopped link sausage (Polska Kielbasa is our favorite) or a few fresh shrimp. Serve over gnocchi, tortellini, or pasta. The spring potatoes should have been dug last week, but the ground is so soggy I haven't even tried. 

Book travel. I'm headed next week to Iola KS to talk to a group of librarians about A Wilder Rose. I love groups like this--they're all dedicated Little House readers, but they're interested in understanding more about the way the books were written and the role that Rose Wilder Lane played in the initial marketing of the books and her development of her mother's draft manuscripts. It'll be fun to share the book with these librarians and have a Q&A that digs deep into the issues around the long-running literary deception that presented Laura Ingalls Wilder as an "untaught genius" who was the sole author of the books.

Reading note Sifting through long forgotten stories of my childhood and writing on a daily basis, I became obsessed with following the threads of my memories, one leading to another. I start pulling on a single, seemingly trivial strand, only to discover it is attached to a longer strand; that one in turn is attached to an even bigger one. Sometimes, I find have tugged a whole, hidden tapestry of my past into view, one thread at a time.--Alice Bag

In bloom this week: Coreopsis

Plains coreopsis--a beautiful flower, especially when they fill the whole meadow with their sunny yellow blossoms.

But Coreopsis tinctoria (as you might guess from its Latin binomial) isn't just pretty to look at when it's blooming. It's a great dye plant, and has often been used to create a strong yellow-orange color on wool that has been pre-treated ("mordanted") with an acidic or alkaline substance to "fix" the color. I've used alum, which is easy to find and use and not as caustic as some of the other mordants.

Picking the flowers is fun--you'll need about a quarter pound of fresh flowers, half that of dried. (I often dry mine, to do the dyeing later.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cover the blossoms (dried or fresh) with water and soak overnight in an enamel or stainless steel pot, then simmer for an hour. Take it off the heat and let it cool.

Meanwhile, soak your pre-treated wool yarn or fiber (you'll need about the same amount, by weight, as the flowers) . When the dye is cool, strain out the flowers through a couple of layers of muslin (you can compost the flowers or put them through another dyebath, for a lighter color). Squeeze the water out of the yarn and immerse in the dye. Bring to a simmer (please don't boil). Gently agitate the fiber every now and then (you don't have to stir, just push it around). After an hour, turn off the heat and let cool. Take out the fiber, rinse well, then wash in a mild soap and hang to dry. You can reuse the the dyestuff until the color is exhausted.

Here's an example of coreopsis-dyed alpaca, from hookedanddyed.com. Isn't it beautiful? You can see more here, and read about solar-dyeing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading note: The soul is dyed the color of its thoughts. Think only on those things that are in line with your principles and can bear the light of day. The content of your character is your choice. Day by day, what you do is who you become. Your integrity is your destiny - it is the light that guides your way.--Heraclitus

 

 

 

 

In bloom this week: Spirea

The spirea is blooming, mounds of white blossoms spilling over the creek bank beside the footbridge. I love this plant for the wedding-white purity of its blossoms, the grace of its arching branches. And for its healing properties. I'll gather a few branches and bring them in the house to brighten the fireplace mantel.

Spirea (like willow and meadowsweet) contains acetylsalicylic acid, the precursor of aspirin, as helpful as it is lovely. Nearby, along the creek, there’s a chaste tree (Vitex agnus-castus), widely used to treat PMS, and a toothache tree (Zanthoxylem hirsutum), supposed to cure an aching tooth. Standardized synthetic drugs are easier to use--you don’t have to brew up a tea or a potion or worry about variable potencies. But I like knowing that these are here. In a pinch, if I had to use them, I could. And I love the intimate view of the landscape that is given to me when I understand how humans have used the plants I'm looking at. The plants seem to take on a new reality. They're not just pretty--they're personal.

Garden report. The peas are done, but the yellow squash is coming on, with a vengeance. That's the thing about feeding a family out of the garden. When you have it, you have lots, and you eat it almost every day. I'll put some in the freezer, and the chickens will enjoy the rest. A few of the early tomatoes are ripening, and they'll put in an appearance in salads. It's time to dig the potatoes, but we've had rain (no flooding, thankfully) and the soil is too soggy to dig. They'll have to wait another week.

Book report. I finished the page proofs of The Darling Dahlias and the Eleven O'Clock Lady.These come in a pdf from my editor, and I email my corrections. I remember the old days, when correcting pages was a paper/pencil job. This is so much easier. Not fool-proof, of course. You'll still find errors when you read the book. But it's much more efficient than the old way.

The current work-in-progress is the 1950s memoir I'm writing with my brother John. Today, I'm working on a chapter on the clothes we wore--fun to remember crinolines and wide plastic belts, shoes and twinsets. And poodle skirts--oh, how I wanted one! For a while, life seemed to revolve around that unobtainable poodle skirt, which simply wasn't in the family's clothing budget. But it's good for kids to learn to live with disappointments, and after a while, that one took its relative place in the little universe of my kid-life.

Reading note. Remember that you own what happened to you. If your childhood was less than ideal, you may have been raised thinking that if you told the truth about what really went on in your family, a long bony white finger would emerge from a cloud and point to you, while a chilling voice thundered, "We *told* you not to tell." But that was then. Just put down on paper everything you can remember now about your parents and siblings and relatives and neighbors, and we will deal with libel later on.--Anne Lamott 

Feeding a Family in the 1950s

My brother and I are collaborating on a memoir about growing up in the 1950s. I've posted a chapter about the way our mom cooked back then. You'll find it on my Goodreads blog. Scroll down for Part 1 and 2. Part 3 is the top entry.

Reading note. I don't know what it is about food your mother makes for you, especially when it's something that anyone can make - pancakes, meat loaf, tuna salad - but it carries a certain taste of memory.--Mitch Albom

In bloom this week: Zephirine Drouhin

The Zepherine Drouhin rose has survived our four-plus years' drought and is outdoing itself this spring. This antique climber has been around since 1868, testimony to its amazing stamina. From two dozen or so roses before it stopped raining, I'm down to five or six, so I value this lovely survivor.

Garden report. Cabbage and peas all week. The cabbages (mini-size) keep in the fridge, but I've been freezing the snowpeas that we don't eat. Lots of them this year. This morning, I planted watermelon, eggplant (it's a little late, I'm afraid), and more basil--on the theory that there's never enough basil and that pesto freezes easily. The beans (Kentucky Wonder) and tomatoes (Porters and a few Roma) are blooming, and the spring potatoes are beginning to die back. We'll be digging them in about three weeks. The sweet potato starts are rooting and will be ready to go into the ground in about two weeks. Ah, life in the garden. Nothing sweeter--when the weather cooperates.

Book report. This week, I've been working on the memoir that my brother John and I are writing about our life as kids in the 1940s and 50s. We pretty much agree on what happened, but we have very different ways of describing it, and the differences are fascinating. To us, anyway--we hope readers will agree. But the important thing, for us, has been working on it together: revisiting old homes, digging up buried issues, trying to figure out our enigmatic (and troubled) father. John is himself a long-time writer, mostly for automotive magazines. Here's a sample of his work, and his crisp, punchy voice. The project has strengthened the connection between us, so if it never sees the light of day, it's already proved its worth. But it will: we'll likely publish it as an ebook in 2016, with an accompanying website. 

Other projects: A Wilder Rose continues to do very well in its new Lake Union edition. I just finished listening to the audiobook edition and absolutely love it. At only $1.99, it's a huge bargain. Bittersweet has gotten great reviews in the month it's been out. And I'm waiting for page proofs for the next Darling Dahlias. I'm blessed in having good work to do--and I'm grateful to the readers who make it possible. (That's you, you know.)

Reading. I was saddened to learn of the passing of Ruth Rendell, a writer's writer, if there ever was one. I haven't read her for a while, so last night, I downloaded From Doon With Death, the first book in the Inspector Wexford series. I'm loving my trip back to Kingsmarkham and the characters Rendell created. I think I'll read three or four in the series, and several of her psychological thrillers, just to remind myself of all I've learned from this very fine writer.

Reading note. Some say life is the thing, but I prefer reading.--Ruth Rendell