Monday - The box of dahlia tubers arrived. All colors of blush and peach, salmon and burgundy. I fill pots with soil, nestle the tubers in, and give them a long drink of water. In a warm, sunny room in the house they’ll get a head start on growth before we plant them out in a month’s time. All for harvesting blooms by the armload for the wedding(!) coming in September.
Tuesday - A shifty coyote trots across the hillside beyond the pond, pausing every few steps to glance over his shoulder, an unmistakable look of guilt about him.
Wednesday - In the stand of trees below the pond, we wade into the overgrowth, cutting burdock, hound’s tongue, and all manner of thorny things. He mows the matted grasses and trims the trees; I collect fallen pinecones by the bucketful. We find the little creek that wanders through. Then, between two spruce trees that he and his dad planted nearly forty years ago, we hang the hammock.
Thursday - In the soft light of golden hour, the muskrat paddles his way across the pond to the tiny island where bright green vegetation grows. He chomps a mouthful, plops into the water and swims his salad all the way back to his house in the bank below the water’s surface at the other end. He tucks his greens away his larder, then goes back for more — sometimes swimming more than a dozen laps. His name is Jim.
Friday - We pulled over and stopped on the edge of the quiet gravel road that had ribboned its way up the long, deep coulee. There, miles from its neighbors was an old white farmhouse with a tin roof. A covered porch stretched across its front. White lace curtains hung in the tall, narrow windows. Tulip leaves were poking up in the flowerbeds, and a lilac hedge ran the perimeter of the lawn. Behind the house, a creek burbled by. An empty house, living its memories of years gone by.
Saturday - Night has come. We are tucked into bed with the covers pulled to our chins and through the open window, a bird calls in the night. “What is that one?” he asks. “Maybe a nighthawk,” I reply. Then, I roll over toward him, trace my finger down the bridge of his nose and ask with a smile in my voice, “Are you becoming a bird lover?” He clasps my hand, pulls it across his chest and replies, “All because of you.”
Moments Lately
Reading Lately
The Correspondent by Virginia Evans - Seventy-three year old Sybil Van Antwerp writes letters. She writes to Ann Patchett, Joan Didion, and Larry McMurty (and they write back). She writes to an immigrant, a troubled youth, and her life long best friend, Rosalie. She writes to her brother in France, her widower neighbor, and a man in Texas. She writes to a new aquaintance in Scotland. You may even believe, by the end of the book, that if you sent a letter to 17 Farney Rd, Arnold MD, she’d write to you. This epistolary novel draws you into Sybil’s life, her world, her experiences, her heartache, her fears, her wisdom, her dreams. There is love, redemption, and hope. And one of the best parts for me? The book recommendations that Sybil and Rosalie give each other in their letters’ post scripts. And, how fun, that I’ve just discovered a list of not just those, but all the titles mentioned in the book.
Eating Lately
Erin and I worked together in interior design in Anchorage, Alaska all those years ago. We became fast friends, connecting over our love of design, creativity, gardening, and cooking, sharing many meals together as two couples before and after babies (we went on to have all boys). Twenty three years ago (the date is written on the recipe, such a great idea!), Erin made this fish chowder and served it for dinner at their house. It remains a favorite to this day.
A few notes before you begin:
Don’t skip the wine! It’s simply not the same without it.
Use excellent chicken stock/broth. I use homemade, but Kettle & Fire make a good one, too.
Use high quality, wild-caught fish. This makes all the difference - it won’t taste fishy, it’ll just taste good. (This time, I used halibut and haddock)
Old Bay Seasoning gives it a little extra, if you’d like. Sprinkle 1/2 - 1 teaspoon over the potatoes and fish.
You can make it in the slow cooker!
You’ll be really happy if you have oyster crackers to serve with it!
Oven Fish Chowder
4 medium potatoes, peeled and thinly sliced
1 lb fresh or frozen white fish, thawed and skinned (halibut, sole, cod, haddock, tilapia)
1/2 cup chopped celery
1 onion, thinly sliced
Salt & pepper
1/4 cup butter
1 quart chicken stock or broth
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 cup cream, scalded
A generous handful of chopped, fresh parsley (or 1-2 tablespoons dried)
In a large, ovenproof pot, layer the potato slices, seasoning well with salt and pepper. Add a layer of fish and season with salt & pepper. Add a layer of celery and onions. Cover with remaining potatoes and season lightly. Dot with butter. Pour boiling chicken stock over all and add the wine. Cover the pot tightly with foil or a lid and bake in a preheated 375°F for 1 hour. Remove from the oven and add scalded cream and parsley. Stir to combine, slightly breaking up the potatoes and fish. Adjust seasonings. Serve immediately with oyster crackers. Makes approximately 2 quarts. (I say go ahead and double the recipe!)
Favorites Lately
For tiny garden lovers (and last year’s too)
For baking, roasting, serving (porcelain is the best)
For cottage lovers (that shower!)
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