In with the new, out with the old

We think of spring as being all new life, pop-out-of-the soil vegetative wonders. But spring is also the end for some dear friends. Kale, for example. The kale we planted in the fall served us well, and in March and early April it got all pumped up out there in the raised rows despite the dastardly cold and rain and wind and hail. God, I love kale. Not just for how it tastes in stews and stir fries, but for who it is: incredibly tough, sweet, beautiful to look at, and a nutritional powerhouse.
About a month ago, in preparation for spring crops, and in response to the kale plants going into reproductive mode, I advanced upon the kale plot with a sharp knife and a tall kitchen garbage bag and laid waste. The harvest filled the bag.
The kale patch was maybe five feet by two or three feet. A tiny piece of earth, really. But still, after a long winter, we are kale-infused and green-tinged from this small plot, and we also have freezer bags of kale for ..... when? December, January, and into mid-February, the garden dormancy times in Southern Oregon.

Also rousted from the soon-to-be-spring garden was the volunteer red lettuce, which entwined in its bountiful exuberance with weeds to make a colorful patch. A healthy garden is loaded with volunteers, and it's kinda sad to cut em down to make way for the next generation. We always have volunteer lettuce, flowers, dill, and lots more, but end up either routing or relocating them to make way for the new delicacies.  Such as onions. Onions are usually cheap at the grocery store, so why grow them? Too many reasons to list, but just let me say "caramelized." We planted four or five varieties, some sweet with short-storage expectations and others meant for long life in our cool back-porch cupboards.

Onions ready to start the garden game. They always win.

And here are potatoes properly treated and dried for planting. Unfortunately, the day after the onions and potatoes initiated the spring garden, the sky cut loose with more rain, wind, hail and on and on. It pelted the garden for several days with sufficient force to loosen onions and many had to be replanted. As for the potatoes, the potato gods say not to water them until they push through with shoots. They could be rotting out there. We'll see.

Tomato plants surrounded by geraniums, which have been blooming for months. Waiting in the wings. Everybody's itching to go outside.

In the meantime, unseasonably cool and wet weather continues, and in the solarium, tomatoes, peppers, eggplants and flowers are getting leggy and impatient and aphid-threatened waiting for their moment in the sun. Spring. It's coming. I know it.

Stand and deliver!

It's a miserable rainy day. PK is at a conference. Except for an hour or so of paid work, I have nothing pressing. In short, I'm blessed with a perfect day at home alone with a big block of uninterrupted time to write. Except for one thing. Sitting at the computer for hours on end makes me so cranky. And creaky. And fat. I can feel my butt revolt as its capillaries close off, then spread out in defiance to fill my cushy office chair. I'm afraid to look, but I think it drapes over the sides.
 I'm compelled to get up and walk around, climb the stairs, stretch. On a nice day, I find it particularly difficult to stay seated. I have fantasized often, but obviously without imagination, about a work station that requires me to stand. As I became one with my chair this morning, I had an AHA!! moment induced by this New York Times Magazine article. It's all about the effects of exercise on weight. It concludes:

In a completed but unpublished study conducted in his energy-metabolism lab, Braun and his colleagues had a group of volunteers spend an entire day sitting. If they needed to visit the bathroom or any other location, they spun over in a wheelchair. Meanwhile, in a second session, the same volunteers stood all day, “not doing anything in particular,” Braun says, “just standing.” The difference in energy expenditure was remarkable, representing “hundreds of calories,” Braun says, but with no increase among the upright in their blood levels of ghrelin or other appetite hormones. Standing, for both men and women, burned multiple calories but did not ignite hunger. One thing is going to become clear in the coming years, Braun says: if you want to lose weight, you don’t necessarily have to go for a long run. “Just get rid of your chair.”

YES! I shoved my chair aside and bolted for a bookcase full of little-used tomes. My keyboard now sits atop three generations of the Atlas of Oregon, a picture book entitled Tibet, and my son Quinn's master's thesis. My mouse roams over History of Art,  Macmillan's Illustrated Animal Encyclopedia, and Bill Moyers' World of Ideas. How to Write a Nonfiction Book Proposal and Ghostwriting for Fun & Profit prop my computer screen at the appropriate angle. I have been standing for nearly five hours. I am so happy! Perhaps the ever-resourceful PK will look upon my improvised "stand and deliver" space and rush out to his workshop to whip up something more aesthetically pleasing. Til then, it's me and the books.

A spectacular late-bloomer

This cactus hangs all year in the solarium, and for the past few springs, it has come to life with amazing three-inch long luscious-looking stunners.

Right now, this baby has about 30 bedazzling blooms in various states of emergence, which are driving the hummingbirds outside insane.  At least 25 years ago when I was working for a newspaper, a woman I interviewed—she called herself the Plant Doctor—gave me this cactus in a much smaller state of being. She was moving and needed to off-load.
I stuck it in a six-inch raku hanging pot and paid scant attention as we raised two boys and some tomatoes and made a living and the years flew by. I don't even know why I kept it. It's was a spindly sad-looking specimen for most of its life. It never produced a flower.
Despite its homeliness, I brought it along the four years we moved to Grants Pass for our son, Chris, to go to a better high school, and then hauled it back when we returned in 2004 to our country home. It's still in the same pot, the same soil as the mid-1980s. The cactus first exploded with color and drama in 2006 or 2007 and is now kicken out the jams more spectacularly than ever before.
I've never really understood "late bloomer" but now I do. Twenty-five years? Come on!  And in my irresistible impulse to apply metaphor, I think of the human late bloomers I have known, and I think they are even more richly colored and interesting than the cactus. The cactus, after all, will soon revert to dormancy. Those human late bloomers? They just get more colorful.

Ultimate low-carb burger for spring

As I think I've mentioned, I got religion again for the low-carb regime, and a cold frame bursting with greens is an indispensable dietary aid. This sandwich is a bit of a challenge to pick up and eat, but here's what's in this "hamburger."

• One slice of Alvardo St. Bakery sprouted whole grain sourdough bread,  toasted: 15 carbs and 2 grams of fiber for a net carb count of 13.
• A small grilled burger made with McKibben Family Ranch ground beef, which is raised in Oregon's Willamette Valley, grass and clover fed, and free of hormones or antibiotics. I buy this at Gooseberries in Grants Pass, our only convenient source for natural foods except for the GP Growers' Market on Saturdays. I break up the grilled meat to make it easier to eat, and also to cut down on the portion size.
• A generous smear of homemade chipotle sauce
• Commercial ketchup
• Sliced cherry tomatoes - the best tomatoes available this time of year
• Sliced dill pickles
• Sliced red onions
• About six large whole fresh lettuce, spinach, or chard leaves

This is super easy and so good! Why eat those fluffy and tasteless carb-inflated burger buns?

Southern Oregon Soul Food

What is Southern Oregon Soul Food?
It's an earthy mix of vegetative extravagance—if there is such a thing—and carnivore indulgence.  It's a super savory blend of summer's preserved harvest mixed with especially dear winter and spring garden gifts.
In summer, it's a shopping trip to the garden with a will to work with whatever is ripe and ready.  It's a flair to dispense with recipes and rely on your culinary instincts to throw together whatever you have on hand to create something fabulous.
Here in Southern Oregon we're blessed with mild weather that encourages gardening nine months of the year. Our landscape is hill and vale, and those of us in the valleys are entrusted with rich bottom land begging to be cultivated. Not that the land gives itself up to easy harvests; a lot of work goes into every tomato and pepper. But for half a year's effort, there's a full year's eating pleasure. Want more?