Rekindling Yin

Roses on a garden fence, Magdalena, NM, May 2012

A client was speaking a few weeks ago about shifting her energy from survival mode to growth mode after a time of serious disruption and reconsideration of every aspect of her life. I would liken this process to a severe pruning, perhaps by a natural disaster such as an epic hard freeze or shredding cyclonic winds, that reduces years' worth of growth to deadwood down to the ground. Devastating, yes, but also an opportunity to reshape, even recreate a whole new life. After more than four years of struggle I've emerged from a leveling hurricane of a divorce into a far better new life as a single mother, graduate student, and, in just a few more weeks, newly minted professional family therapist.

Larkspur (opalotype filter w/vignette), Magdalena, NM, May 2012

My client gave me a huge gift that day: the insight that during the hardest part of her "winter of the soul" she neglected and suppressed her feminine energy. She said she recently realized that surviving and rebuilding seem to require a toughness and assertiveness that aren't part of the repertoire of "being a girl" behaviors most of us grow up learning. So now, having survived and wanting more -- namely, to thrive -- she feels it's time to change course a bit, not to give up her toughness but to soften and in fact strengthen it with more "feminine" flexibility, intuitiveness, and heartfelt emotion. Her insight helped me realize I'd done much the same thing these past few years: getting tough to survive, pulling out of and away from unhealthy dependencies (which, a few years ago, described just about all of my relationships), and pushing myself through graduate school and internship into a whole new career.

Bee at work (opalotype filter w/vignette), Magdalena, NM, May 2012

God, what a process, and I did have to let go of and prune away lots of old stuff to do it right, and I don't regret that. What I feel now, though, is that in some ways I've perhaps become... not necessarily "too masculine" in any absolute sense, because we all fall in different places along that spectrum, but certainly more masculine than my core "self" might be. So as part of reshaping my life I will spend some time uncovering and nurturing my "feminine" side, my yin, whatever you want to call it, not to uproot but to strengthen what has emerged these past few years. At first this will need to be conscious; for example, shifting my body language from forward and aggressive to more reclined, relaxed, receptive... in emotionally safe situations, anyway. And playing more, whether in the garden or with my camera, and doing what feels right, like planting and photographing flowers and other pretty things. Listening, something I used to be really good at but feel I've pushed aside to "get my point across" and be taken more "seriously" (and we all know how well that works... )

My apple tree is bearing fruit this year; a good sign, perhaps? 

What I want to nurture and what I want to replace aren't in themselves good or bad; I'm really seeking to rediscover my essential, joyful self and allow it to fully emerge, finally. Allow, not push... support, not construct... Trust and accept, not direct....

Maybe I'll call this my Summer of Yin...

I Heart Macro: Carrot-Tops

Carrot seedhead, Magdalena, NM, Aug. 2011

Photo-processing time has become rare lately, but tonight I am up very late (even later than usual) watching Hurricane Irene tear up the East Coast and awaiting news from my family and many friends around Philly and New York of how they're faring. So this week's I Heart Macro post is all about carrots -- the part of the plant we rarely see, which I had fun photographing earlier this week. In recent years I've started letting a lot of my root and leafy vegetables and herbs go to flower (despite traditional horticultural recommendations; no surprise there) because the flowers are often very pretty and unusual, they're attractive to good bugs, and the seeds help me keep the garden going on a tight budget. I find carrots especially fascinating, from the first fluffy flowers to the spiky, resilient seeds that can catch on a shirt cuff or a cat's tail and start a new carrot colony far from home.

Carrot flower, Aug. 2011

We all know that carrots have beautiful fern-like foliage that, sadly, is inedible, but when left to flower, a carrot also sends up a stalk that puts out a huge, showy white flowerhead that is busy all day long with all kinds of bees, wasps, butterflies and moths, and ladybugs. This may help explain why I never have to worry about low pollination or aphid infestations in my garden these days; in fact, I wonder if this is a bigger factor in "companion planting" (mixing herbs and flowers in with vegetables) than the specific plant combinations selected. Bring in more good bugs, and more good stuff happens in the garden -- how's that for horticultural good sense?

Pollinated carrot flowers turning into seeds, Aug. 2011

Developing seeds, Aug. 2011

As the flowers fade and go to seed, the head changes in fascinating ways, leading to the seed clusters shown at right and at the top of this post. They look so cool but also a little creepy, like a swarm of baby centipedes or something. I haven't bought carrot seeds in years, though, and having started with a non-hybrid variety I know I won't have to as long as I'm willing to "sacrifice" a few carrots every year. (Confession: it's pure neglect, or at least it was the first year I let some carrots go to seed; now I get to call it "seed saving" and feel all eco-conscious or whatever.) As you can probably guess from the photo at right, I have let more than a few carrots go to seed this year. I have had plenty to spare, though, and I just love watching the process unfold through the seasons, even all the way through winter as the seeds left out in the garden finally fall with the melting snow and plant themselves in the damp earth.

Carrot seedhead (the Mothership for part of this year's patch), Jan. 2011

No Place Like Home

Ed at sunset, Magdalena, NM, August 2011

Black swallowtail caterpillar in the dill patch, Aug. 2011

Oh how I love my home, as remote as it is, and my big garden and that view out on the "ranch" are just two reasons among many. Two weekly 200+ mile roundtrips to Albuquerque are starting to wear me out a bit (hence the lack of blogging lately), but I am absolutely loving internship -- every learning, growing, stretching, inspiring, rocking moment of it. Even the "failing" moments, those times I have no idea what to say or do next, have become great learning moments for me for two reasons: I generally suck at failing, meaning I never really learned how to handle it well because it was not "allowed"; and I suck at asking for help, which everyone needs to do sometimes so as not to fail again, or worse. This week especially I got some "practice" with these as well as core counseling skills, lucky me, and it was a timely lesson because I could feel my mind oscillating between, "Cool, I got this" and "Oh crap, what would I do if that happened??"

Zinnia among the fennel, Aug. 2011

I also love the drive home; I find every one of those 120 or so miles essential for processing the day's learning experiences, for unwinding, and for letting go of all the things I couldn't control or worried about or "failed at" or whatever. The drive up, I don't love that so much because that's when I worry, and I also just want to get started on the day, but my iPod playlists and podcasts keep me calm and well entertained, and I also get to contemplate the beautiful summer landscape.

Summer is almost over. Did I really just notice last night that the sun is a bit lower and is setting earlier, that the alfalfa fields along the Rio Grande are being cut and baled, that some growers are already selling and roasting green chile? The Blogger editor wants me to spell that as "chili" but that's not how we spell it in New Mexico, and if you've never had roasted green chile, well, it is an integral part of late summer and early autumn out here. Farmers and vendors set up in parking lots and sell sacks that you can take home and roast yourself or that they'll roast in big metal hand-cranked roasters for a bit more money. That smell... well, I'll get some pictures over the next few weeks, but you'll have to come out here in person to get the full sensory experience. And good luck trying to go back home once you do....

I Heart Macro: A Moment in the Garden

Ladybug on dill blossom, Magdalena, NM, August 2011

Last night I realized I haven't been taking creative time for myself lately, so I vowed to kick off this week with a morning photo session in the garden. I spent almost an hour out there and came up with so many beautiful shots that I couldn't decide which one to post for this week's I Heart Macro... until I opened up this image in Photoshop. Catching bugs, butterflies, birds, and other mobile creatures is always a challenge, so I remind myself to just keep shooting until I happen to capture the creature looking fabulous. It's much easier (and more palatable from a resources standpoint) in digital to snap the 10 or 20 (or more) shots needed to get just the right angle and movement and light AND focus; last week's butterfly shot was the 27th of 32 shots (that was one patient butterfly!), and I wasn't even sure I'd caught it in clear focus till I opened the image file. The ladybug above only gave me 5 shots before flying away, so I know I got lucky on this one.

As always there are lots of beautiful entries for this week's I Heart Macro -- check them out and leave some love!

I Heart Macro: Busy

Bee on red Papaver (?) variety, Magdalena, NM, June 2011

Small wasp on Gaillardia bud

If you plant it, they will come.... My gardens are full of life these days, both flora and fauna. I've seen several different kinds of bees, which bodes well for the veggie garden, along with black swallowtail caterpillars (who love fennel), various butterflies, ladybugs, some kind of winged aphid-eater, and even a dragonfly hovering around my fountain. Just about all of my perennials survived the winter thanks to a thick bed of straw, monthly deep watering, and an early spring dose of Yum-Yum Mix (an organic fertilizer); many of them also dropped seeds that are now sprouting, which will make the perennial beds that much more lush. Since everything is on the drip system, they get just the water they need, and I've noticed the birds and bugs also enjoying a drink while it's on.  I think I've gotten a pretty cool little ecosystem going here, kind of an oasis given how dry this year has been.



Moth on Salvia nemorosa "May Night"

So that's today's I Heart Macro post; I couldn't play along last week because the endless winds (which should have been gone weeks ago) made any photography impossible, particularly macro. Yesterday and today have been much calmer, thank goodness; constant wind makes me edgy....

Fuzzy-legged honeybee (Melissodes) on Gaillardia

I Heart Macro: Morning in the Garden

Rainbow chard, Magdalena, NM, May 2011

Arugula blossoms

Today's I Heart Macro post is brought to you by a perfect spring morning: sunny, warm enough to sit outside to drink my coffee and watch the cats patrol the yard, and not windy for a change. Despite our typically feisty spring winds I've been gardening like a madwoman (hence the recent lack of posts!)... I did resist the urge to put plants out last weekend because a frost was forecast (and did in fact materialize), so this weekend is planting weekend. Today is our last frost date, which means it's safe for everything to go out and for the glass covers (old windows) to come off the coldframe at night. The chard above and kale at right have been growing in the coldframe since March, and I've enjoyed several cuttings including a delicious greens-and-garlic stirfry last night. Also in the coldframe, conveniently located outside the dining room glass doors, are spinach and mixed lettuces along with basil, parsley, and fennel seedlings.



Asparagus tips

The main vegetable garden lies beyond and, with this spring's expansion, takes up almost one-third of our fairly generous backyard. This is the fourth spring I've worked on it, expanding it from one small 10-by-6-foot section to... lots more than that. In 2008, a deep spring rain brought up some old asparagus that has gradually recovered as I've tended it, and this year I was finally able to section off the half-dozen standing plants and add another two dozen that will bear tasty shoots next spring. I had also hoped to put in a strawberry garden but didn't get to the bare-root bundles in time, so that goes on next year's list. I might be able to plant those in the fall, with lots of aged manure and a thick bed of straw to help them grow roots over the winter.

One thing about gardening here is that I can't just clear some ground, put in plants, and let nature do the rest; I have to dig into and below the fine silty crust to break up the hardpan beneath (which accumulates as our heavily mineralized water settles and forms a hard sub-crust a foot or so below the surface), mix in lots of aged manure and straw (easily available here thanks to many neighbors who have horses) to create soil that doesn't turn to muck when wet, and create a series of raised beds so the first hard rain doesn't wash all this hard work into one big mess. The photo below shows an overview facing southwest, from the new summer squash bed back towards the long winter squash bed along the south fence and the woodpile along the west fence. Behind me towards the left is a bed for broccoli, onions, cucumbers, peas, and bush beans; the long beds extending from the left of the photo will be planted with tomatoes today or tomorrow, and lead towards the asparagus and tomatillo/eggplant beds (the latter one has the green Walls-o-Water, which seem to be working well).

Looking southwest across the veggie garden

Because rain is so variable (and non-existent so far this spring), I have to put everything on a drip irrigation system, which is labor-intensive up front but thanks to a timer provides automatic, measured watering. I've expanded the drip system along with the garden, adding a new section for each new bed (below is the new Pattypan squash bed, looking northeast), and along the way I've learned that drip emitters can go for a year or more before I have to clean them (individually, by hand) with vinegar whereas sprinklers and misters only work for a month or two before our hard water clogs them up. And then, to keep the soil from drying out and caking up, everything gets a thick bed of straw which, thankfully, is also easily available.

Looking northeast towards the house

I've learned these past few years that our short season (5 months at best) and cool nights do not favor tomatoes or peppers; rather than causing me to give up on these garden delights, these constraints have spurred me to figure out how to coddle these plants enough to actually harvest something before first frost. This year the peppers get a black plastic mulch and dark rocks around each plant to absorb sunlight and release the heat overnight, and the tomatoes get the black plastic along with Walls-o-Water to keep both heat and moisture around the plants. I am nothing if not determined....

Macro Study: Arise

Zucchini sprout, April 2011



Tomato sprout, April 2011

Happy macro day, and happy Easter to all who celebrate it. I find myself alone for the first time in 3 weeks because the kids have gone to their dad's for the week and my dad is in Albuquerque with a friend and her family. Although it feels strange and a bit squirrelly, I realize now how much I needed one full day and night alone to really feel and listen to myself. The first holidays after a loved one dies are difficult, people tell me; I definitely felt it around Thanksgiving and Christmas and had to really push myself to be cheery for the kids' sake. I didn't expect to feel it for Easter but then came all the death and resurrection talk, which reminded me of the many dreams I had in the months following my mom's death in which we somehow discovered that, wow, she's not dead, she just wandered off into the wide world and will come back to us someday. The quickening stream of Mothers Day ads is also getting to me... so, definitely a good day to be alone.

Cucumber sprout, April 2011

I'm not lonely, though; Lucy and the cats have been right by my side all day, inside and out. Despite the incessant wind I have been out gardening all weekend, digging beds for all these sprouts and laying new driplines for the Great Garden Expansion of 2011. I tell people I'm expanding the garden because of high food prices and declining produce quality, but really, I'm a woman possessed. Later this afternoon, though, I'll take a break to go walking with Lucy out on the property and clean up my mom's little stone house that now seems to be her de facto gravesite. Her ashes are back in Philly, but I'd like to bring them out here this summer. It feels like she belongs here.

Not exactly a cheerful Easter post, I know. A few people (who obviously don't know me very well) have taken pains to remind me that Mom is now in a better place, with God, in Heaven, moving onto a new phase of existence, and so forth. I won't say I do not believe that, but I'm not feeling it. Not today, anyway, and certainly not because I'm "supposed to." So being in the garden, preparing and planting and tending, is exactly where I need to be. I hope you all have a wonderful day, in celebration or whatever else occupies you today.

Zucchini sprout, April 2011

You know I love macro



Blue lettuce (Lactuca tatarica) from the kitchen garden, Magdalena, NM

 I was going to take a day off from blogging to garden and think about concrete actions I might take about the political stuff I ranted about yesterday, but I couldn't resist joining my blogging friends who are sharing their beautiful macro/close-up photos today as part of the "I Heart Macro" blog hop that Lori at Studio Waterstone is hosting. Lori's lovely blog is new to me, and I'm glad to see another person who digs jewelry making and photography, and dedicates her blog to both without worrying (as far as I can tell from her posts) about not having a "single-purpose" blog. My contribution to the blog hop captures the simple blossom of a wild blue lettuce gone to flower; it's not terribly noticeable or remarkable until those delicate blue stamens come into view through the macro filter. This is why I let some of my greens and herbs bolt and flower, then go to seed; many of my favorite photos have come from my and a friend's kitchen garden. Speaking of which, it's time to finish the drip system for my new asparagus bed...

Everything Feels Better in Sunshine

Tulip, Magdalena, NM, April 2011

I've been absent from my blog lately because, being on break from coursework, I'm not at my computer nearly as much -- I'm outside gardening instead! We've been blessed with warmth and sunshine this past week, to which my plants and I have all responded energetically by emerging from our winter slumbers. My most recent cold, which seemed poised to morph into my second bout of bronchitis/pneumonia of the year, dissolved as I spent time in the sun -- heavy doses of echinacea/osha/goldenseal root tea probably also helped.

In New Mexico the spring sunshine also brings strong winds, and it has been so dry lately (2 months without a drop of rain) that any spark can quickly fan into a fire, as happened on Thursday less than a mile from my home. I watched the smoke billow all afternoon and paused from my gardening to count the firetrucks and volunteer firefighters racing up my road to gain access to and control over the fire's southern edge. Thankfully, no one was hurt and no structures burned, but the fire came within a few feet of one family's home and was only arrested by a dozen or so people, including the homeowners, wielding fire and garden hoses. My neighbors across the road, whose property backs up to where the fire was burning, were readying their horses for evacuation as the winds abated and the firefighters gained control. I would have been over there in a heartbeat to help out, if only to lead the horses over to my yard for safe keeping.

I'll try to blog more in the next few weeks, but for now, I have lots of gardening to do! I've planted all my seeds for indoor and coldframe germination (I can't set anything out till May 15), and today I need to clear old garden beds and start digging up a new section so I can grow more veggies! I hear some of you are having rotten weather, so I'll try to send some sunshine and warmth your way. Enjoy your weekend, whatever the weather!

Mosaic Monday... er, Tuesday: Winter Garden

I got a bit derailed this week; lots going on here, so Mosaic Monday is a day late.... January ended with a minor snowstorm for us, a storm that is apparently turning into a monster as it heads east and hits moisture from the Gulf of Mexico. We got a bit more than an inch of beautiful fluffy snow, and (here's why I love New Mexico) the sun came out just before setting so I could get some nice pictures and take Lucy out back to play. She loves the snow! She sticks her nose in it and eats it and chuffs it, then frolics to another drift to lie down and roll in it and eat some more; since she's able to put more weight on her leg now she really wants to play, but I am managing to keep her calm so she can heal up in time for hiking. I haven't taken her out back yet today and am sure she will just eat it up. What a joy she is.

So the storm headed east... and left a vacuum for another storm to stream down from Colorado, giving us another four or five inches so far, with perhaps another half-foot to come by morning. Good thing I have nowhere to be this week except home working; we're pretty well stocked on food and can walk to the local market if we really need to (I do have some amenities here in my little town!). As long as I remember to leave a faucet running tonight we won't lose water when the temperature dives well below zero(F) tonight. Even if we lose electricity, we have a fireplace... the only real inconvenience would be losing Internet access! ;-)  But I know others are far worse off as the main storm heads east and strengthens; I'll be sending you all good thoughts to get through it okay. Sheesh, what is up with all this weather??

Oh yeah, it's winter. Think the groundhog will see his shadow tomorrow? If he does, he might need a police escort back down that burrow of his...

The Creative Exchange: A January Garden

Kale Sprout, Jan. 2011

Here's my offering for a new meme I just joined in on, The Creative Exchange, hosted by Lisa and focused on "photography from the heart." I love these round-robin things because not only do they get me thinking creatively, they also get me blogging regularly. And I probably would not have taken this photo were it not for some prompting to think about what, at this moment, is my heart's desire, and is right in front of me. I look over from my desk and see the lettuce and chard sprouts soaking up the sun, and I feel happy that I can garden, if only a tiny bit, right here in the dead of winter. I'll need to transplant these soon, or eat at least some of them as microgreens, which sounds like a great idea now that I think about it. Thank you, Lisa, for being another source of creative inspiration, and thanks to everyone who stopped by to see what I've been up to today. As always, I hope you were able to get some creative time today, too.

New Starts

Lettuce Seedlings, Jan. 2011

For several months now I've been trying to motivate myself to make some cold frames for a small area just outside the dining room/studio that gets full southern exposure. Last week I decided that, since it's too cold to hang out in the garage using the table saw, I'd make a small start with some Jiffy mini-greenhouses (black plastic trays with clear plastic raised lids) so I could get some greens going. A week later, the mesclun (mixed lettuces and other greens) is going strong, the chard is just sprouting, and the spinach is... coming soon, I hope? Just having new life is so gratifying, and with the trays on this side of the window I can keep close tabs on everything.

"I do not like the Cone of Shame." (from Up)

In other news, Lucydog is recovering well from surgery. We have a hard time keeping her quiet and still because she's such an energetic, playful dog, and she has had to wear the "Cone of Shame" to keep her from aggravating the incision, but overall she seems to be on the mend and should be back to normal in 2 to 3 months. Fingers crossed; I don't enjoy hiking nearly as much when she's not with me and so haven't gone lately, and my midsection is starting to show that.... A few people have suggested getting another dog, but it's hard to find one so loyal, so friendly yet protective, who is happy to ramble and roam yet always stays within earshot and knows exactly where her people are. One friend noted that hunting dogs make terrible hiking buddies because they're bred to catch a scent and run with it, and it's the owner's responsibility to keep up; herding dogs, on the other hand, stay close to their charges and always know where home is. Being part blue heeler, a breed used to guard and herd cattle around here, along with pit bull (also a loyal breed) and who knows what else, Lucy is definitely in the "herder" category. In any case, I don't want to have to pick and train another Bestest Hiking Buddy anytime soon.

Feeling Prickly

Thistle at sundown, Magdalena, NM, Oct. 2010

The autumn light continues to entrance me; I've always noticed and enjoyed how the light changes as the sun "falls" toward its Winter Solstice, but now that I'm doing photography again, I am immersed in it and am fascinated by how it changes everything. The sun's lower angle illuminates new landscape details and highlights things I hadn't noticed all summer... and someday I'll have developed my landscape photography skills enough to really capture this (to my liking). In the meantime, here are some of my usual (but, of course, none the less lovely, to me at least) closeups of some beautiful "residents" of this landscape. I'm feeling prickly these days, a feeling always soothed by a long hike, so these seem especially appropriate right now... I hope you're all enjoying autumn, too, and would love to see your visions of it.

Cacti near Kelly, NM, Oct. 2010

In the Kitchen Garden: Natural Pest Control

Praying mantis (Mantis religiosa), July 2010

Today was a great day for spying on garden life, thanks in large part to my friend Nicole's sharp eyes; in addition to this praying mantis (who is quite likely the same one Maggie saw as a smaller "baby mantis" a week or two ago) we saw numerous ladybugs and a Monarch caterpillar, the latter on one of my fennel plants. Not an aphid in sight, and in fact all of my plants seem pest-free despite my absolute ban on chemical pest control. I was amazed at how unphased this creature seemed by my lens, which was just inches away; it did crawl under the sunflower leaf it was on for a moment (below right) but was back up on top by the time I put my camera away. No doubt surveying dinner....

I've been a bit quiet this week because school has started up again and the kids are here for the week and need extra TLC because they really miss Granna and Grandpa (who went back to Philly last week). I plan to get out and about next week to practice my landscape photography (here's a great tutorial that I plan to study carefully), and to have some serious fun as well as get some great shots of the beautiful New Mexico landscape. We call this the Land of Enchantment for good reason....

Open in My Garden Today

Purple Coneflower (Echinacea purpurea), my kitchen garden; June 2010

This week's theme for The Sunday Creative (oh how I love these challenges!) is "open," and I've decided to go with that theme all week, in various media, starting with this entry. I added this echinacea to my kitchen garden last week both for its beautiful flowers and to eventually harvest some roots for my herb collection. My evolving kitchen garden is just in front of the house, visible from the kitchen window, and although it's mostly for herbs I've added some perennial flowers to "pretty" it up for myself as well as visitors.

Everything in front and back is now on a drip irrigation system; after 7 years here in the high-mountain southwest, I feel confident I've finally figured out drip irrigation, including how to clean the emitters that inevitably get clogged from our ridiculously hard water. If you garden in a dry climate zone, want to save water and labor, or are just a gardening fanatic and seek a new challenge, I highly recommend drip irrigation. I get all my supplies and most of my info from Dripworks, which has both a catalog and a Web site for ordering, but many other vendors offer equipment and guidance as well. Once you get the system laid out and operational, it's time to mulch the soil... which is what I'm off to do right now....

Creativity Boot Camp, Day 12: "Smooth"

Ladybug tiptoeing through cholla spines, Patterson Canyon, June 2010

Why does this picture make me think "smooth"? Probably it's the ladybug's smooth, hard shell, which of course contrasts with the cholla's pointy flower buds and spines that it crawls over with no trouble whatsoever. I know this photo isn't really in focus, but to me it seems to evoke the ladybug's industrious progress across this perilous territory in pursuit of the aphids tucked between the succulent bud tips.

Here's more "smooth," from my friend's kitchen garden: I've never been able to capture water droplets before, and this is a decent first try. I took this just after watering the flower border; before they open all the way up, the dianthus blooms make especially good water holders.

Water droplets on dianthus, June 2010

In the Kitchen Garden, Part 3: Cycling

Onion in early flower, June 2010

I go out into my friend's kitchen garden several times a day to water or to gather herbs or greens to add to a dish, and have to go back inside for my camera because I keep seeing something new to photograph. It is a rather small space and is geared mostly to late-winter and early-spring produce, yet the life that carries on in there is quite lively, all the more so when viewed up close. The onion flower above burst out of its papery cocoon during my visit last weekend, and this weekend some of the tiny (1/4-inch) flowers have begun to open.

The gone-to-seed chard plant at left (top) seems to be home to many ladybugs, and the cilantro plant below, one of many I also photographed last weekend, is beginning to "fruit" and will soon bear ripe, fragrant coriander seeds. I can almost smell the yummy hand-ground curry that's sure to come; as for the rest of the herbs and greens going to seed -- chard, kale, spinach, and lettuce -- they will reseed themselves and provide a wonderful fall-winter crop of fresh greens just when everything else has wound down or frozen. I do have my own (very) small kitchen garden; I had to start from scratch two years ago but now have some really nice sage, rosemary, and mint stands that have withstood two rough winters, along with some perpetually reseeding cilantro. This spring I've added thyme, oregano, lemon balm, and lavender (perennials) along with basil (annual, but I hope it reseeds itself like the cilantro does). Greens are currently out of reach, however, because I have no woodworking skills to make the requisite cold frames, which are a big part of what makes my friend's kitchen garden so prolific for all but the very coldest six weeks of winter. This winter, though, I see more green in my future...

Breakfast in the Garden

Robber fly (Efferia aestuans) at rest, June 2010

Robber fly consuming moth, June 2010

Watering my friend's kitchen garden (from which I will post many more pictures when I go home this afternoon) I saw this creature flitting around but couldn't get close enough to photograph it. Then he perched on the garden gate and didn't move as I approached... and I soon saw why: breakfast trumps flight. I suppose this moth would have met an untimely end with a porchlight tonight anyway; just as well it fed a fellow garden creature.

And a strange creature this is indeed; it sounds like a pesky housefly but looks kind of like a dragonfly, and it seems to hover rather than just flit. Turns out it is indeed a cousin to the housefly; the robber fly is of the order Diptera, same as house flies and fruit flies and horse flies and all those other pesky critters. Family Asilidae includes 7100 or so species of so-called robber flies that, unlike their Musca domestica cousins, prefer to dine on live prey.

And thus ends our lesson on flying insects... for now.

In the Kitchen Garden, Part 2: Portrait of an Artichoke

Artichoke (Cynara cardunculus), June 2010

When I start processing my images in Photoshop, I almost always find one or two that give me a visceral thrill, and that I can't wait to share. Being able to see the pictures almost right away and work with them myself (without darkroom chemicals) is just one of the reasons I have happily converted to digital photography, after years of holding onto the Luddite position that pixels could never capture life the way film does. I'm finally converted, but you tell me: are these images lifelike?

I spent some time the other day with an artichoke that, like the herbs in a previous post, had gone to bloom and was thus "useless" in a culinary sense. Inedible, perhaps, but absolutely gorgeous. The artichoke is a member of the thistle family, and when it blooms it's easy to see the resemblance. The filamentous florets look like sea anemone tentacles (indeed, the sea creature was named after the anemone flower), and the heavenly blue-violet color is a surprising contrast to the thick army-green leaves and stems. I used extreme-macro to capture these images; I could have increased the depth of field (and might experiment with that next time), but right now I am enjoying the creative possibilities of limited DOF, including highlighting details that might otherwise be unnoticeable if more of the entity were in focus. Are these images "most representative" of this artichoke's beauty? I don't think any image could be all that, and in any case making images is, for me, all about experimentation, which I've always believed is the best way to learn and, ultimately, to express my own vision of the world.

In the Kitchen Garden, Part 1: Unfurling

Cilantro (Coriandrum sativum), June 2010

Kale (Brassica oleracea), June 2010

I have always loved close-up (macro) photography because it reveals details that we often miss, either because our vision isn't strong enough or because we're just moving too quickly through life to stop and really look at things. The exotic-looking flower above is actually a cilantro plant in bloom; I spent the past few days at a friend's house and found gazillions of these in the kitchen garden, abuzz with bees and butterflies and other creatures. Once cilantro "bolts" and goes to bloom it is essentially useless as a leaf herb; these blossoms, each of which measures maybe 1/8 inch, become the spice known as coriander, doubling this fragrant plant's culinary usefulness. This in-between stage adds an artistic "usefulness" that I'm very pleased to be able to see now that I have a macro filter. Someday I'll have a real macro lens; until then, though, I am more than happy with the view I have now. The second picture is of a kale blossom, again on a bolted and thus "useless" plant. I have many more photos to share from my retreat, which I will call my macro meditations (for want of a better term)...