Pea Porn

 

Y'all are probably going to get tired of hearing about these peas before I get tired of talking about them. 

Or eating them.

Or taking pictures of them. 

Blooms in the Yard

April is a beautiful month. I want to say it's the most beautiful, but every month has spectacular moments. April just has a whole lot of spectacular moments.

Like Beatrice's birthday, which is today!! (Happy Birthday, Bea!!)

And my birthday, which is Tuesday! (Happy Birthday, Pammy!!)

Aside from those two special days, our April yard is full of some of my favorite perennials, and the last couple of weeks have been delightful.

COVID19: Bloom Where You're Planted. Or Somewhere Else

Mom and Dad have expanded their back porch, and the little offset flower bed by the kitchen door was sacrificed for the project. 

A few weeks ago, I rolled to the farm and helped Dad relocate a couple dozen marigolds and some pretty yellow and brown coneflowers which came up voluntarily this year. Someone gave Mom a bouquet of cut flowers at an event at some point in the past year, and after they shriveled-up, she tossed the stems out the back door and into that bed.

When the seeds sprouted, she wasn't sure what they were, but she suspected something good.

They turned into this:

Pretty, huh?

We relocated those, too. Some to the round bed at the front corner of the back yard and some in another bed by the electric pole. We dug a few and scattered out the older, seedy-headed stems in hopes that they will populate the new area as easily as these did.

The marigolds have taken to their new home. A hot day in August isn't the best time dig and replant, but it had to be done, so we watered them in immediately even though plenty of rain came later in the day. After only a few weeks, they look like they've lived where they are forever. 

Here's a picture I snapped as I was leaving the day Dad and I worked the beds. It looks so much better now. I'll have to take a shot or have Mom send one to share here! 

Dad and I were both exhausted, but we had a wonderful time and made Mom happy with our hard work. 

I brought a picnic, too. Fried chicken sandwiches (leftover from the previous night's dinnner) and homemade potato salad. Dad was much appreciative. 

Mary-Mary, How Does Your Garden Grow?

I snapped photos of some of Mom's flowers when I went to pick up a few groceries she'd added to her pick-up order from Kroger the other day.

.
These are all beautiful.

This one is from my yard, and though someone told me what it is, I can't remember.

Real Life with Real Storms

Jack and I thought we were in trouble Saturday night. Actually, it was early Sunday morning when a powerful line of thunderstorms with straight-line winds, constant lightning, and some of the hardest rain we've ever seen cut a path through our part of the mid-state. In discussing it later, we came up with memories of one or two terrifying storms in the 23 years we've been together (one here at home; one in the car on I-16 in Georgia on our way to visit Jack's parents), but this was the worst.

Only last month, horrible tornadoes ripped through communities in Nashville, Mt. Juliet, and Cookeville, killing twenty people and leaving hundreds injured, homeless, and devastated, so we were hyper-aware when our electricity clicked off and left us with only brilliant flashes of lightning and bowel-quaking thunder to gauge the progress of the approaching storm. The rain began as a torrent so strong, I was afraid our western-facing windows would break, and moments later, Jack said, "We may be about to lose our roof."

I could hear the wind pummel the side of the house and feel it rush through the space between our roof and the metal roofing, which was being constantly pelted with sticks and limbs. The windows rattled, and the howl of the still-bare winter treetops was eerily high-pitched. The lightning and thunder were constant and intense like a blitzkrieg.

The hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood straight-up and my skin tingled. My ears started to pop a little bit, and I could sense that the pressure inside the house had slightly changed. If everything in my world had suddenly exploded, which is pretty much what happens when a tornado hits your house, I would not have been surprised. 

At this point, we all knew were were in a serious situation, and by all of us, I mean all of us. Poor Josie was so frightened she peed the floor and then hunkered down in it. Kinky-kitty, who always heads for additional shelter under a chair or our bed whenever we have any kind of thunder or hard rain at all, let out a couple of screams before going into a state of catatonic shock. Phoebe, the new cat, was the exact opposite. She ran wildly from room to room, leaping from the dining table to the couch to the hearth before racing to the bedroom and back again in a frantic circuit.

I picked up our emergency lantern and said, "Jack, I'm heading to the bathroom."

"Do you need to go?" he asked from behind his flashlight.

"No. I'm going to ride this out in the tub," I replied, wasting no time hustling down the hall.

Moments later, from the perceived safety of our bigger bathroom, we could hear the gears of the storm slow with a slight easing of both the wind and rain and a noted lengthening of the interval between blasts of lightning and explosions of thunder. The house seemed to sigh with relief, and we did, too.

Flashlight in hand, Jack checked the ceiling for leaks while I made sure none of our pets had died of fright. Everybody but Kinky seemed jumpy and relieved. Kinky was frozen in place with stiff muscles and mostly not responsive for a couple of hours. I put him near me on the bed, and he finally repositioned himself on his side sometime around the beginning of daylight.

After the first hard line of storms had moved past us by several minutes, I drove through the sticks and debris up the hill and called Mom and Dad from the nearest place with cell reception. Their home phone, like ours, was out, but Mom answered her cell phone on the first ring and said she and Dad were fine and hanging out in the basement.

Two or three more clusters of storms rolled through, but nothing was severe, and we were finally able to calm down and relax enough to go to sleep.

Our power came on around 1:00 on Sunday afternoon, roughly eleven hours after it had gone out. The phone and internet interruption lasted longer - until almost 3:00.

We feel fortunate to still have a home, especially since we're sheltering here during the COVID19 pandemic.

On an unrelated note, here are some muscaria (grape hyacinths) I painted. They're one of my spring favorites.

Garden. Wait. Bloom.

This is absolutely my favorite time of year. Hand's down. Fall is great and beautiful, and I'm generally ready for it to arrive each year, but Spring? Spring is exciting and alive with eye popping colors and new leaves everywhere. Maybe being born in April has something to do with it, but what we're having right now seems more like the beginning of the new year than anything that happens between the end of December and the start of January.

The sweat equity Jack and I put into naturalizing our yard ten or so years ago is really starting to pay off. While the massive bulb-planting we did in 2001 brought us impressive color for a few years, tulips aren't well-suited for the woods and modern bulbs are so hybridized that you can't just "let them go." They have to be dug up and separated and chilled. They require, "please" and "thank you" and more attention than I'm to spend on any garden thing I can't eat.

What we have blooming now are things that get better with time, growing bigger and stronger. Becoming established. Taking its time before it blooms. This year we had five Trout Lily blooms - that's two more than we had last year, and we planted them eight years ago.

Patience is a necessity when you garden like we do.

Jack and I have both been fans of naturalized gardening forever. Every year when the oxalis blooms in my parents' back yard, Dad talks about how I dug up a handful somewhere on the farm and planted them "right there by that tree." 

I was probably in seventh grade, and those little pink flowers bloom every year without fail.

When I first met Jack, I'd never in my life seen a garden as enchanting as what he was doing with the yard of his family home in downtown McMinnville. Dude had ferns everywhere. He was using wild strawberries for ground cover under established, old hollies, spruces, and Japanese maples. There were whimsical concrete mushrooms strategically placed to keep the garden hose from dragging through his beds and an antique wood stove used as garden art with an operational rotary-dial phone hidden in the woodbox. He'd woven wind screens and borders from crepe myrtle trimmings. Herbs and native wildflowers intermingled with everything and in very unexpected ways.

Fun fact: The night Jack and I met, the moon was full and bright peachy-pink as it rose. Jack pointed at it and said, "I bought a daylily that same color at the farmers market today."

We still have the offspring of that very lily in our yard here at the lake. It will bloom in June.

In the meantime, this is what's going on and living testament to my love of this all-too-brief season:

Wake-Robin Trillium

Ferns

More Trillium

Painted Trillium

Painted Trillium

Little Brown Jugs

Wild Iris

Japanese Maple

Trout Lilies

Grapevine and Japanese Maple

White Azalea

Fire Pink

Happy Blogger-versary to Us!!!

Who knows what motivated me to sign up with Blogger and write that first post, but I did - eight years ago today!

I knew the anniversary was coming up soon - I remembered having shared a photo of our purple crocus blooming in the yard, and sure enough, today is the day.

Our crocus aren't as plentiful as eight years ago, but we still have a few scattered about, and they're still just as beautiful as ever.

Let's Have Lunch! The Readyville Mill

From our connections on Facebook, Jack and I have heard nothing but good things about the food and service at The Readyville Mill in neighboring Cannon County, so when our good buddy, Brad, invited us to meet him for brunch there on Sunday, we wasted no time in saying, "Yes!"

The original mill was built in 1812 on the banks of the Stones River by town founder, Charles Ready, and was purchased by his daughter and her husband shortly after his death in 1859, only a few years before the mill was burned to the ground during the Civil War.

After the war, the mill was rebuilt and continued grinding corn and wheat for the next century. Over the years, the mill had a number of ownership changes, but continued to be operational until 1978 when it was closed despite having gained designation on the National Registry of Historic Places in 1973.

Jack actually remembers going to the mill as a child with his family and his mother purchasing bags of corn meal there.

The mill and surrounding structures sat empty and quiet until 2006 when the mill was purchased by its current owners, the Bradys, who began an extensive, three-year renovation and restoration to bring the Readyville Mill back to its former glory and more.

In 2009, it reopened as not only a functional grist mill but also a restaurant and event venue for social occasions like weddings and parties and has been gaining fans and patrons since then.

When we arrived at the hostess desk, we were asked if we had reservations, which we didn't. After being informed of a forty-five minute wait for seating, we were invited to explore the property and enjoy ourselves, which was easy and enjoyable on a beautiful, autumn day.

The grounds are lovely in a natural, unforced way. Structure and form are provided by a handsome limestone hill to the east side and the Stones River to the west. The displays of ancient machinery and other rusted treasure are organic and unforced. It's a beautiful place.

Once seated in the open, comfortable space of the dining room, service was prompt, friendly, and surprisingly unrushed, considering the burgeoning crowd accumulating outside.

The menu includes selections for breakfast, brunch, and lunch, but all three of us stuck to the breakfast menu, because that's what all of our friends told us to do, and peer pressure is a real thing.

Omelets are also a real thing, and this was a real omelet - three eggs with the cheese of my choice (Swiss) and mighty chunks of ham. Breakfast entrees come with two sides, and my choices were grits with smoked Gouda cheese and a short stack of "cinnamon swirl pancakes," which might seriously be my very favorite pancakes ever. I left omelet and grits on my plate, because the servings were so generous, but I made those pancakes freaking disappear - they were indescribably delicious, and I will eat them again. Soon.

The price of a meal is comparable to chains like Cracker Barrel and IHOP, but the quality of both food and experience is echelons higher and rank among the top of what Jack and I have eaten out in the past year.

Go there.

What's Blooming: Pineapple Sage

Back in the spring, Jack and I cleaned out what was once our tulip bed and planted a nice selection of herbs for our summer kitchen. We had high hopes for the basil, thyme, and tarragon, but a combination of bad rain timing and the early arrival of Japanese beetles dashed our hopes for piles of pesto and tidy bottles of herb-infused oils and vinegars waiting to bring joy to our friends and neighbors during the holidays.

The only thing that seemed to care about surviving the beetles and competing with the weeds was a lone Pineapple Sage plant. We've never grown it before, and I purchased the one plant after reading a facebook post from P. Allen Smith about how pretty it is as late-season bloomer with the added benefit of providing sustenance to migrating hummingbirds on their way south for the winter.

Over the course of the summer, it has grown with gusto, becoming tall and fountain-shaped as the weeks have progressed.

When it showed no signs of blooming by Labor Day, I began to think that despite strong stems and healthy foliage, conditions in our yard weren't what the plant needs to produce blooms, but I was wrong.

Interestingly enough, as soon as we moved past the Autumn Equinox a couple of weeks ago, the tips of each branch began to quickly produce bloom buds and within days, they began to pop open into a spectacular display of indescribable scarlet.

The leaves, when crushed between your fingers, do emit a delicate pineapple aroma, and the flowers are tender and slightly sweet. I haven't fully researched possible culinary uses for Pineapple Sage, but I will be. Tea is definitely on the list, but who knows what else?

After this year, Pineapple Sage is going at the top of the list for our spring greenhouse trip.

Around the Yard: April to May

So far, Spring in Middle Tennessee has been gorgeous - here's a sampling of what's been happening in our yard.

Firepink

Painted Trillium

Baby fern

Painted Trillium

Oxalis

Painted Trillium (before pink-stained by sun exposure)

Black Haw (early bloom)

Great Solomon's Seal

Huckleberry Bloom

Black Haw (full bloom)

Wood Hyacinths

Wake Robin Trillium and Wood Ferns

Wild Iris