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Sunday - We haven’t lived near our daughter’s grave until now. I carry pink petunias, sweet alyssum, a hand trowel, and a jug of water to the family headstone. For the first time in 28 years, I kneel on the earth and dig into the soil, making space for beauty where her tiny body lies. For her, for us. For love and memories and all the wondering about who she would have been.
Monday - June is soaked in rain, cloaked in clouds. It shivers in temperatures not common to late spring. I pull on a wool hat, a coat, a raincoat, rubber boots, and gloves. I pop open my umbrella and venture out, then wish I had a scarf. I wonder for a moment if I’m not hiking across the foggy hills of Scotland in winter.
Tuesday - They say old wood is good, when it’s light and punky, on its way to rotting through, gathered from trees that have fallen seasons ago. We found some at the edge of the forest. I divided it into the bottoms of my ten oak half barrels, then added smaller bits —branch trimmings, pinecones, leaf litter, and such. Then, I added the soil. Hügelkulture, this layering of organic material, is called, and it’s my first time trying a version of this ancient permaculture method. (Thanks, Anna!)
Wednesday - The fox pair that lives under the floorboards of the old blacksmith’s shop up the creek? I’ve told you about them. He’s larger, strawberry blond, she’s smaller and darker red with jet black legs. We see them nearly every day. Maggie Mae goes wild with fury when she spots them across the fence; they pay her no mind. I’m happy to report that they finally have names: Ronald and Donna. (Christened so, after much thought and deliberation, by our little friend back in Wyoming.)
Thursday - He and Maggie Mae had found wild tarragon on a hike one day. Because I wished I was there, he told me where to find it: Cross the stone bridge, angle up the hillside toward the brushy rock piles, you won’t have to go far. Well, I did go far. I hiked a mosey trail all over the hillside, looking, looking, looking. Even went through the fence and to the top where the wildflowers are a garden as far as the eye can see. Back through the gate, then, I started down the hill. I guess I won’t be finding it today. Loves? It’s when you’ve given up that you find what you’re looking for. Only a few steps later, the bright, yellow-green leaves caught my eye. Tarragon. (You know what I’ll be making with it!)
Friday - There’s something about a circle of lawn chairs, a checked tablecloth, kids and a dog running around, and people chatting while loading their plates with bounty. There’s something about the pop of a can of iced tea or a strawberry fizzy drink, about the mmm with the first bite of dessert. There’s something about gathering wildflowers and wishing rocks and snail shells. There’s something about friends and one sunny, warm, perfect June day.
Moments Lately
Reading Lately
Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes
This one I read slowly, savoring the details of Italy, of an ancient stone farmhouse on a terraced hill, of the vision for what it and its gardens could become and all the work it took to wrest it back from scorpions, vines, dust, and neglect. (While we’re wresting a humble ranch house from a bit of the same.) I couldn’t help but think it was the Tuscany version of A Year In Provence by Peter Mayle, another favorite about a couple with a dream who moved into an old stone house and its neglected gardens in the south of France. My goodness, and while I’m at it, I cannot forget about The Magic Apple Tree by Susan Hill, another delightful book about a young family who moved from London to an old, worn cottage in the English countryside.
Eating Lately
When it’s June, there’s simply no apologies for the making and eating of all things rhubarb, especially when you’ve come into the care of the biggest, oldest patch of your life, growing along the fence by the creek up the road. And when you’re planning summer’s first picnic with friends, and are looking for everything you serve to be hand-held, including dessert, you make these (no flatware = fewer things to pack and keep track of with a crowd). It’s gutsy to make a dessert you’ve never made before and serve it to your guests before you’ve even had a taste, but thankfully, this one was a winner!
The crust is less pie-like and more shortbread-like, and so easy to put together. In fact, you can simply shred frozen butter on a cheese grater, then toss it with the dry ingredients before spreading and ever-so-lightly pressing it into a quarter sheet pan.
While the crust is baking, listen to birdsong through the open windows while you chop the rhubarb and mix the sugar and eggs. Pour the rhubarb egg mixture onto the hot crust and pop it back into the oven for the final bake. You can leave it out all night on the counter to cool.
On the day of the picnic, cut the dessert into squares and make sure all are loose in the pan. Then invert an empty duplicate quarter sheet pan over the top of the pan of bars as a lid and tape them together with paper tape. Pack this dessert package on the bottom of the cooler and load all the other picnic goodies on top - roast beef sandwiches and summer fruit in their porcelain serving dishes, covered with cling wrap for the journey.
Be prepared to share the recipe.
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My notes:
I used 1/2 cup powdered sugar in the crust and found it to be just right without the called-for additional 1/4 cup.
I’ll likely be grating frozen butter for the crust every time I make this!
I wouldn’t hesitate to add an extra cup of rhubarb next time.
My friend made this, substituting gluten-free flour, and it was delicious.
Favorites Lately
For wearing to a wedding (dress + shoes + clutch + bangle) So fun helping to dress a friend!
For summer scent layers (this + this, yes, at the same time)
For going to the market (or the beach, or a picnic, or the library, or…)
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