Showing posts with label thimbleberries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thimbleberries. Show all posts

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Foggy, Misty Morn

57° and foggy, misty, damp and quiet this morning. I am reminded of Carl Sandburg's Fog

The Fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then it moves on.


Our fog is lifting ever so slowly but off to the west, the clearing sky offers hope of a sunny day. That's good as I have already accomplished lots but have a long list for today.

I was at the nursery at 5 to drive the tractor home for chores that need to be done here. I would love a trailer so I could avoid the drive. Back in winter I felt that this would be the season for purchasing a trailer. Now that's but a dream as customers are few and far between and just paying the pre-season bills has become a chore. I really do not care what the economists say, Vermont is a mess and the country is even worse. Things were bad enough before all the natural disasters and there's little doubt that many more businesses will fail. I don't think we'll be one of those but some days recently it has taken a lot to open the gate not knowing if anyone will drive in. Just the same, you still see a smile from Gail and me when you stop by. We're like that. We don't give up.

Last night Gail left the nursery at almost 5:30 while I was hosing down the tractor and getting the mower deck set up for today's journey. Essentially we were closed but half the gate was still open. I heard a car stop at the gate and I waved "Come on in" not knowing who it was. We are often known as "givers of good directions" and weekends during the summer finds us helping out someone most every day.

This was a farm lady and some members of her family heading back St Johnsury way after a one day escape from the farm. Farmers don't get many days like this and when they do, they pack in as much as they can. After only a brief conversation I knew I liked her. She inquired how we got through the flood and we shared bad stories while describing our need to persist. She farms a 100 cow diary and I farm flowers but the work is still 24/7 and the rewards are impacted by weather and the economy. Flowers are seasonal for us and a great deal easier than dairy, goats, sheep or even beef farming.

Like many farms, this family relies on maple syrup production as part of its bottom line. The lady said that the crop was very good this year (State set a record of over 1 million gallons produced) but sales have been down. I hadn't given it much thought but when times are tough, even something like a gallon of syrup for home cooking, baked beans and pancakes, takes a back burner to fuel for the tractors and Gramma's medicine. The farmer described how the first cutting of hay, baled in those big white wrappers, went bobbing down the river during the flood. The remaining hay and corn fields were covered in silt and gravel and subsequent hay harvests meant wearing protective gear because of flying stones and dust. I commented that the governor's big deal about making Vermont McDonald's sell their breakfast pancakes with Vermont maple syrup still left most all sugar makers with a bad taste for the media hype that politicians love. I didn't expect an answer to my opinion but I got a smile that said it all. As the family drove away, I dropped my wave and wondered if Vermont politicians really know what it takes to run a business in today's world.

I finished with the tractor and began walking the final tour I take every night before I leave. Have to make sure no tools are left around, hoses are shut off, pump closed down, walkways clear, garden carts cleaned and ready for the next day. A new Siberian Iris on the front table had just opened and I tested my memory on the name. I kept wanting to say Lavender Mist but then remembered that Lavender Mist is the name for a Thalictrum I like. The iris was Pink Haze. I stared at its beauty but kept asking myself about the name. It really isn't pink at all. What do you think?

Gotta scoot!


Writing from the mountain above Peacham Pond where Gail is telling me she's ready to leave. I have no choice but to get going as my truck is already at the nursery. As you're out and about today, stop by and say hello. Along the way you might notice that blackberries are in full bloom and suggest a good crop. Thimbleberries are just starting to bloom and although they aren't on my list to pick and eat, they have a nice color that some day I will paint. If you don't know them yet, check them out.

George Africa
The Vermont Gardener
Vermont Flower Farm
On Facebook as Vermont Flower Farm and Gardens and also as George Africa
On Twitter as vtflowerfarm

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Thimbleberries In Vermont


Sunday, November 21, 2010

A dark morning here on the mountain above Peacham Pond. When I woke at 4:15 it was as if someone left a light on as the moon was bright and it was easy to see the fields. I walked from window to window looking out for signs of deer, bear, coyotes or moose passing through but their company eluded me. Karl the Wonder dog sleeps on quietly in dog dream heaven, occasionally letting out dog dream whimpers but never awakening. The morning is cold at 18.3 degrees and I suspect it will drop lower as the sun begins to rise in another hour.

Fall chores have kept me away from writing for over a week. The wood for next year is cut and split and Alex is stacking the last cord a little at a time. He actually enjoys the work and confirms it as he hums songs and places each split log bark side up in perfect placement. He hums his favorite Civil War tunes and never seems to make adjustment for festive seasonal music. Every day I learn something new about autism and every day I wish it would evaporate...but it won't.

Work on the machine shed is coming along nicely and I hope the roof can go on tomorrow and Tuesday. There is promise of two days of warm weather between now and bad weather on Thanksgiving so I am pushing things along. Today the temperature will never rise above 30 degrees so hammering nails will be replaced by more chain saw work on the hiking trails I have been creating this fall. We have 70 acres bordering a state forest and my goal is to continue to reopen old logging roads and make walking trails throughout. 50 yards here, 50 feet there, I advance through the woods paced by other chores and the amount of fallen trees I come upon. Come for a walk sometime and I'll show you how this is coming.

Every day I spend a little time checking out what other gardeners are doing around the world. I love the west coast and the gardening opportunities there and always learn something new. Today I was reading Rainy Side Gardeners and I solved a berry mystery that has bothered me since I was a kid.

I have always been a berry eater since early days in Vermont when putting food by to make it through harsh winters was entrenched in my behavior. I learned about raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, blueberries and walking into the fields and forests with an old peanut butter pail hitched through my belt and dangling as I walked was a common occurrence. But there was always a berry, a flat purpley-red berry that I noticed the deer liked, that I never knew the name for. Fidelia and Lillian, our next door farm lady neighbors at the time once pointed out that they were ok to eat "but don't mix them in your bucket with raspberries, they make mush". No one knew the name and each year I would pick maybe two or three and eat them to confirm they were fine to eat and still didn't taste that well.

But this morning, while waiting for the sun to rise, I found the name to this mysterious berry on the west coast gardening site. The berries are thimbleberries, Rubus parviflorus, and they have been well known for centuries as their use by Native American cultures supports. If you get a chance, look at Rainy Side Gardeners and let me know if you have seen them in your area before.

No berry picking for now. Karl the Wonder Dog is stirring and I better get my boots on. Our morning walk is about the begin.

Writing from the mountain above Peacham Pond where deer hunters are driving by slowly, hoping not to have to leave the warmth of their trucks but knowing that there is only a week left in the season to bag a buck.

George Africa
The Vermont Gardener
Vermont Flower Farm
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