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Turkey Tracks: The Georges Valley Land Trust Garden Tour

Turkey Tracks: July 16, 2013

The Georges Valley Land Trust Garden Tour:

“Gardens in the Watershed”

Sunday was the GVLT annual garden tour.

The gardens are always along the St. George River valley–which covers a big area.

Giovanna McCarthy and I headed out at 10 a.m., dressed for walking, for heat (hats), and with water and our lunches iced down in a cooler. It was a beautiful day to explore gardens.

We started just up Howe Hill, where two gardens were located: the gardens of Tina Marriner and Robert Pearse and the gardens of Eilene and Leonard Ames. I’m going to do the gardens as separate entries, starting with my “up the hill” neighbors Tina Marriner and Robert Pearse.

We had lunch at Fernwood gardens, a nursery specializing in shade plant. What a treat to see Fernwood in its new location. i really enjoyed all the whimsical touches in their gardens. But more on that later.

Giovanna and I ended the day by stopping by John’s ice cream on Route 3, above the St. George Lake state park. That’s Giovanna, now hot and tired and ready for an ice cream.

I got peach, and Giovanna got coconut–and boy did that coconut ice cream look good. John’s ice cream is all homemade. We each took home two quarts in the cooler. My son Mike is bringing my two grandsons tomorrow, and they will all be delighted to see John’s ice cream in the freezer: rocky road and butter pecan!

Turkey Tracks: Margaret’s Rag Rugs

Turkey Tracks: July 15, 2013

Margaret’s Rag Rugs

Friend Margaret Rauenhorst just made the two prettiest rag rugs I’ve seen yet.

First, husband Ronald VanHeeswjik made her the hand-held loom–using the original stacked method, not the method that miters the corners which makes the loom totally flat and, we think, harder to handle. They figured a way to make a stand that allows Margaret to prop it over a radiator as she wanted to stand to make the rugs. Along the way, they made some other improvements in the loom and in the braiding that I think are really good.

Margaret collected her fabrics from Good Will, The Salvation Army, and local quilting stores with fabric on sale. Just remember to choose fabrics that don’t ravel easily and that will wash and wear–that probably means cotton sheets, tablecloths, curtains, and the like. (And wash everything you bring into the house to prevent bedbugs.) Margaret divided her fabrics in half so that she could keep the rugs similar in color.

First before anything, look at these beauties:

The one on the left is made by banding the same colors; the one on the right is more of a herringbone pattern, where you keep switching colors when a color runs out.

I love the clear colors Margaret has used–the rugs shimmer in the light. So pretty. And of course Margaret checked with the bride to see what colors she and her groom liked together before collecting her fabric.

Here’s Margaret braiding/weaving on her loom. Note how she’s using a dowel to separate the background strands–I like that idea a lot.

Here’s another improvement: the side bars slip up and down until you get enough tension on them–and can slip all the way out if you are not careful to grip them when you lift the loom. Ronald and Margaret solved this issue by drilling a hole in the bottom of each bar and attaching a clip that keeps the bar from sliding. They’ve promised to drill mine when I finish with the rug that’s on the loom now–which will be a winter project for me maybe unless one of the kiddos or Tami gets interested.

As part of the wedding gift, Margaret put together a little book of all the “sayings” she said ran through her head about healthy marriages and relationships as she stood and braided. She told me some of these one day when I went to see the first rug. I thought them wonderful–and still think she should maybe do something more formal with that book. (The bride loved it–how could she not?) Many of them speak to how lives get woven together as we live: the bride and groom, of course. But, also, Ronald, Margaret, and me as they took up this rag rug project. And, of course, all the lives woven together on this blog.

I can pretty much bet that those two rugs will be with that bride and groom throughout their lives together.

What a gift–on so many levels!

Earlier entries on this blog give more information about a good rag-rug book and how to make the loom. It’s pretty basic.

Turkey Tracks: Greg Heath and Crew: Last Night

Turkey Tracks: July 12, 2013

Greg Heath and Crew: Last Night

They came; they visited and saw our coast; they sailed; they flew home.

I picked them up a bit late from the boat–due to a time mix-up. They were ready for warm showers and naps. They were not hungry: Captain Annie sent them home with full and happy bellies.

After dinner, just at dusk, we went down to Camden for an ice cream cone:

Here’s a picture of Greg and namesake “Also Greg” looking at our harbor from the “harbor green” that lies at the harbor’s head:

Here’s what they’re viewing:

They all got a good night’s sleep, and this morning dawned clear and blue. We had breakfast on the deck, Greg mowed my lawn (yeah and thanks!!!!), and off we went to the airport.

Turkey Tracks: Gregory Heath Visits Maine

Turkey Tracks: July 9th, 2013

Gregory Heath Visits Maine

My brother-in-law Gregory Heath arrived in Maine Saturday morning shepherding his nephew “Also Gregory” Heath (18) and his granddaughter Fiona Whittle (12) for their first look at Maine and their first sail on a windjammer, the J&E Riggin, our family’s favorite. Absent was Greg’s granddaughter Emma Bryan Booker (almost 14), daughter of Catherine Heath Booker (deceased) and Jay Booker. Amie Price, who has momentary legal primary custody of Emma, refused to let her come two days before departure, though she gave permission for this trip earlier and though Greg had paid already for all of Emma’s travel and for the Riggin.

Fiona and Emma are my grandnieces, and Catherine, Emma’s mother, was my godchild and someone I loved dearly and miss dearly. If you read my initial essays on this blog, you will see that Catherine’s death is how I got to Maine in the first place. (Life is short and then you die, so you’ve got to live every minute fully and with joy, which for me came to involve moving to Maine.) In the short year of Catherine’s terrible cancer, I spent every minute I could with her, often sleeping in the hospital room with her for a week at the time. We all worked together to never leave her alone in that year, and she tried everything possible so she could stay with Emma, who was just a little over a year old when Catherine’s cancer appeared, and Jay. Catherine and Jay were not yet thirty when this tragedy occurred: Catherine died at 27 years old. You can tell by now that I’m not going to “play nice” about Amie’s cruelty to Catherine’s daughter, to Catherine’s family.

I collected the “crew” from the Owl’s Head airport around noon on Saturday. “Also Gregory’s” comment: “I’ve never been in such a small airport.” We went directly to the Owl’s Head General Store for “the best hamburger in Maine,” appropriately called “the seven napkin hamburger.” We took our food to the nearby Owl’s Head Lighthouse park for a picnic overlooking Penobscot Bay and some of its gorgeous islands. Along the way we passed a working lobster harbor and wharf’s, which was filled with lobster boats which had returned from their early morning lobster trips.

After lunch we toured the Owl’s Head lighthouse grounds and admired the water and harbor views. Owl’s Head sticks way out into the bay and from it, you can see a lot of the coastline, the nearby islands, and all kinds of boats in motion.

It was HOT, HOT, and humid. So we headed to my home, donned swimming suits, and went for a swim at Shirttail point, which is on the Megunticook River–which was once lined with dams and mills.

We had a fabulous dinner, which we all helped to cook. Fiona and I made a green salad from all our local fresh ingredients, including roasted beets and goat cheese–and dressed with a mustardy dressing made with my own garlic. (In my world, there is no such thing as too much garlic.) My pictures of the two salads are blurry, blurry, but I’m showing them just so you can get some idea of what we made.

We also made a potato salad using locally grown purple potatoes (full of nutrients), homemade mayo, and boiled eggs from my chickens. We added in my herbs and local scallions liberally to everything.

Meanwhile, Greg and Also Greg were cooking steaks:

The steaks could be topped with my basil/garlic oil, which I make in the summer and freeze in small containers and enjoy all year on meat, in soups, in salad dressings:

Off and on all that first afternoon, Greg set about helping me with some household chores that had gotten away from me–especially with all the rain. Among those chores was the sweeping of all the decks and cleaning the glass-topped table and chairs. Look how it shines!

We ate our breakfast out here on Sunday morning: blueberry fiddle cakes, real butter, real maple syrup, my blueberry jam, almond butter, strawberries from my garden, and cantaloupe. Afterwards we put on our bathing suits under our clothes and went to Mt. Battie.

Here’s part of the view from this point. That’s Owl’s Head sticking way out at the top of the coastline you can see. Camden Town is the beautiful harbor you see in the center.

Next we walked along the mountain top to the tower which was built after WWI. Prior to the tower, an inn sat on this site. Carriage trails up the mountain led to it–and they are now hiking trails. The inn burned at some point.

Here’s the crew at the top of the tower:

And here’s one part of their 350 degree view–which looks out to Bald Mountain and Howe Hill where my house is.

The poet Edna St. Vincent Millay grew up in Camden and once recited the poem “Renaissance” to the Camden Ladies Club at the Whitehall Inn. One of the women saw to it that Millay went to college afterwards. Millay used to hike up to Mt. Battie and created the first lines of the poem there. Here’s the plaque that lies near the tower, featuring the opening lines of the poem:

All I could see from where I stood

Was three long mountains and a wood.

I turned and looked another way

And saw three islands in a bay.

So with my eyes traced the line

Of the horizon thin and fine

Straight around till I was come

Back to where I’d started from.

And all I saw from where I stood

Was three mountains and a wood.

Again, we were HOT, HOT, so we headed to Fernald’s Neck–a preserve–for a swim. We hiked this path through the conifers–about 1/4 of a mile–to Balance Rock and the sunny ledges where it’s lovely to swim:

Fiona was always the first one into the water in both swimming events. She was fearless and stayed until we had to go.

Our mountains are very, very old and worn–so they seem to be more like big hills.

We swam and sunned for some time–and it was glorious and joyful.

Here’s the crew at Balance Rock–a huge boulder left by the retreating glaciers that scoured the surface of Maine, leaving all the depressions that turned into our many, many lakes.

At home, we had a lunch of our leftovers–on the shiny clean table–and the crew dispersed to get ready to go to the J&E Riggin.

When we got there, I was so happy to see Captains Jon and Annie that I didn’t take a single picture. Captain Jon oriented the passengers on the boat and then we were free to go out to dinner and to see a little of Rockland, which is a charming place filled with art galleries and clever stores.

Greg treated us to dinner at Cafe Miranda–which is a very fun place that has very fun food.

And now, the crew is out on the bay sailing. I hope that they are having a good time. The weather is mixed–and has cooled way off. I sent them with all my rain gear–I had two sets–so at least two of them are covered. I’ve been on the Riggin in all kinds of weather and it’s always been fun.

Here’s the Riggin under sail. She’s big and fast and very stable.

If you search on “images” and “J&E Riggin” you’ll get a page of pictures of what the boat looks like from a lot of different angles. And, of Captains Jon and Annie. By the way, Annie has published two cookbooks and has a great blog where she posts lots of recipes.

I will pick them up on Thursday morning. And we will spend some time in Camden and, weather permitting, will swim.

They fly back to DC on Friday morning, and I miss them already.

Turkey Tracks: July 4th in Cushing, Maine

Turkey Tracks: July 6, 2013

July 4th in Cushing, Maine

Every July 4th, Sarah Rheault and her children, Willow and Chrisso, host a potluck July 4th party at their Cushing, Maine, home, for, mostly, their Cushing neighbors and friends. This year, Willow could not come. The mother of a toddler, she is expecting her second child this summer. Chrisso was present, however, and spent some hours grilling us delicious hamburgers. And the potluck food, as always, was also delicious.

I brought deviled eggs from my soy-free, free-range chickens–made with homemade mayonnaise and local scallions. I sprinkled them with freshly cut chives. I should have taken a picture, especially after Sarah put my eggs on a big white platter she had. I had carried them in a container that I could fit into the cooler for the 45 minute ride out Cushing.

It was SUNNY and hot–and we all reveled in both after so many, many days of rain.

I thought you kind blog readers might enjoy seeing the views from this special spot in this world. Here’s a view from the front of the house–which is built low so as to fit into the landscape.

That’s Sarah in the blue jacket. See the solar panels in the background?

Here’s the deck. That’s Meg Barclay, standing, in the orange shirt. She’s talking to John Blydenburg. I was struck by the contrast between my first time at this July 4th party and this time. I have, in nine years, gone from knowing no one at this event to knowing so many of these dear people.

On the right is Joie Willametz, who kind of adopted John and me on my first time to this party. Joie is one of the most amazing people in this world. She is an artist; she is endlessly curious; she traveled extensively with her husband; I have to work really hard to beat her at WORD. She is sitting with her daughter-in-law and grandson, who together with Joie’s son, came down from New York City for the weekend.

I will leave you with a view that kind of says it all:

Thank you Sarah and Chrisso for…everything!

Turkey Tracks: Pea Soup Fog

Turkey Tracks: June 30, 2013

Pea Soup Fog

Pea soup fog in Maine is so thick you can’t see into it or beyond it–give or take the space just around you.

I’ve been on a mission for a while to capture the sense of that enveloping white mist with my camera.

I took this picture on Friday. The fog had moved way inland. It surrounded my car, limiting visibility to about 30 feet.

See?

The camera actually captured more clarity than there actually was on the road. And, makes the tree in the mist seem further away. Interesting.

I love it when I’m on Route One in the summer, and the fog bank that can sit over the water for days starts to come onto land. It sends out long tendrils of white at road level–almost as if the fog is trying to grab hold of road, rock, trees, meadows and pull itself ashore.

If you are on a boat on the water, suddenly you find yourself sitting in a white cocoon. Only the boat and the water are both moving…

Mercy! Everyone starts listening for other boats’ warning bells, the clanging of buoys, and any other hint of where one might be and what is near one…

Turkey Tracks: Counting Joys

Turkey Tracks: June 30, 2013

Counting Joys

I am counting joys today.

Sunshine, after days of rain.

The new Corian kitchen counters are in.

And aren’t they beautiful? I have snagged my sweaters on the shredding formica for the very last time.

The whole kitchen seems brighter and lighter… The color is beautiful with the oak floors and white cabinets…

Many, many thanks to Lynn Gushee of Dream Kitchens in Rockland. She’s amazing and is also helping me with some other details in the kitchen that needed tackling.

The leaky 70-gallon water tank is gone. Mark and Cappy of Mark’s Appliance said they had never seen the inside of a water tank so corroded. Friend Meg Barclay, an architect, tells me that was probably due to the acidity of our water from local granite.

We did more than replace the tank–we replaced the whole heating system, which was old and getting cranky. The old boiler sat on the floor and was about 2 feet by 5 feet. It took up the whole utility room and put out a constant wall of heat–so that in the humid summer, everything in the utility room was covered with a layer of running, condensing water.

Here’s the new boiler and the new water tank “helper.” This system is more efficient and will use less propane (my house is heated by water, which I love). The new helper has a lifetime warranty.

Yes, the new boiler is that little white box on the wall.

A new dog fence has been installed. Penny is delirious and so am I. She will not be patrolling the street below and nipping at feet peddling bicycles. Thanks to Sarah Rheault and the folks from Invisible Fence.

The moss has been cleaned off the roof. Thanks Horch Roofing.

The garage stairs, open to a bad fall from either the stairs or the floor of the attic, has been walled in. Thanks to Ronald VanHeeswijk. Neither I nor the grandchildren will fall off that death trap onto the concrete floor below. Best of all, they can make the attic of the garage their own space this summer.

The back deck privacy wall has been painted and shored up for another year. It’s pretty much rotten, and I will replace it next year. Thanks to Margaret Rauenhorst, Ronald VanHeeswijk, and John Marr.

All the leaky faucets have been fixed, thanks to plumbers Wes Avery and Ben Varner.

Mulch and weeding and all the spring tasks have been accomplished, thanks to David Hannan.

Hope’s Edge, our CSA, has started, thanks to Tom Griffin and crew.

The strawberries are ripe in the garden. The garlic scapes are ready to be cut. The peas are coming in. The cold frame is full of lettuce. And, it’s summer in Maine!

Turkey Tracks: She’s Back: Two New Nests

Turkey Tracks: June 27, 2013

She’s Back

Two new nests have appeared on the far right side of the porch.

She’s sitting on the furthest away one.

She’s a ROBIN!

Phoebe has been singing his heart out for days now, and last night I noticed that the pair is settling back into the nest over the kitchen door.

So, another nesting is starting…

Summer is such fun…

Turkey Tracks: First Strawberries

Turkey Tracks: June 23, 2013

First Strawberries

Well, they’re the second picking actually.

Sister-in-law Maryann Enright got the first bowl as I assured her I would be picking more later in the afternoon as they ripened in the sun and that she MUST eat some before she had to leave for her drive back to Boston.

This strawberry is “Sparkle,” and it is known for its delicious taste. It does not always keep its rich color if you freeze berries–and I do–but it always keeps its delicious taste. These are as sweet, sweet as can be–though they are a bit larger than normal. That would be an effect of all the rain I suspect.

Still…

Delicious!

And no comparison to those sour store-bought babes.

Turkey Tracks: I Mowed the Lawn Today

Turkey Tracks: June 15, 2013

I Mowed the Lawn Today

In 47 years of marriage, I never mowed the lawn.

I think John tried once to show me how back on Van Buren Street in Falls Church, Virginia. But I could not start our big heavy mower, and I already had so many other things to do in and for the house and gardens, that I never pursued it.

Besides, John liked mowing the lawn. There was something peaceful about it for him.

I can’t imagine why–as it’s one of my least favorite things to do in this world.

Oh, I like the way it all looks when it’s done. Just the way I like the way the laundry looks when it’s all folded and ready to be put away. Or, the kitchen when it’s all clean. It’s not that I mind the work. I like to work. I just don’t like mowing the lawn.

I’ll weed all day. But mowing? Not a chance.

Still, I do a good job. See?

That hill you see really slopes, and it’s murder to mow. Perhaps that’s why I don’t like mowing. Or it’s about juggling the electric mower we got me last summer when it became clear John could no longer mow and the long power cord. The mower is light and efficient; negotiating the cord is irritating, though I’m getting better and better at it.

It’s not a huge yard, and except for this hill, it’s flat up top and down below.

I trim up the bits along the edges by hand–right now that seems easier than using a string cutter. They don’t work so well along fence lines anyway, and it’s just another thing to plug in that makes a lot of noise.

That’s a big lilac at the foot of the stairs. It perfumes the whole yard.

That’s a row of raspberries along the front edge, backed by bayberry and rugosa roses and more lilacs. The wonderful David Hannan came and mulched the raspberries for me and weeded and edged the bed. What a HUGE help that was.

I wanted to get pictures of the new chickens for you, but they hid in the coop away from the mower. Rosie, the remaining Copper Black Maran came and visited with me. She’s the sole survivor of the fox attack in early spring:

She’s so pretty.

I miss her Cowboy fellow. I bet she does too.

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