A week or so ago I noticed the last patch of buckwheat was starting to phase from flower to seed so it was time to cut it down. I often grow buckwheat whenever I have an empty bed or patch for green manure or mulch. Letting it flower allows the pollinators to enjoy it (though they've been very sparse this year) and it's quite attractive. If I don't cut it well before it goes to seed I end up with buckwheat "weeds" next year. I'd already taken care of two earlier patches. (I usually do this with the scythe but as the space was tight I tried our Greenworks battery hedger which worked surprising well, even though I had to run it on my knees.)

So I put it on my mental list to get to this bed of buckwheat soon. But about the same time I became aware of some persistent chipping when I was in that area of the garden. This was more strident and intense than the common chip-chirp of the Chipping Sparrows. Then I saw who it was - a male Indigo Bunting was directing his chips at me from a perch on top of the buckwheat. He didn't fly away, but moved next door to the corn, watching me, and chitting, the whole time. The next few days it became apparent that something serious was going on here. Not only did I often have the male chipping at me but I realized there were alarm-chirps coming from within the buckwheat patch. Then I saw the male and female emerge together to perch nearby. So, no question about it now; there will be no cutting down of the buckwheat patch, at least not for awhile. Are they nesting in there? It seems a bit late but with the unusual weather extremes of this year there really is no "normal" and it does appear that they've chosen that spot for an August event of some sort.

The male is so attractive amongst the white mass of buckwheat blossoms so when I saw him there again I ran back to the house to get the camera. He usually sticks around for some time. But when I came back both the male and female were off nearby fussing loudly at someone else. When I came back into the garden the male flew over to a nearby nest box to check me out, staying long enough for a photo op before going back to help his partner chase off whoever else they were upset about.

But in my reading of the ways of edible mushroom growing I came across a piece on harvesting and processing Chaga for tea. That interested me so I went over to our birch tree to see if I could get a piece of this hard black mushroom. Thankfully it's within easy reach. Sure enough, a good handful sized piece broke off without much trouble. Then I searched online for some instructions on how to prepare it. My next big discovery was that Chaga is definitively "in". There were posts all over, most best ignored as is the way of the internet. But there were a few well informed, personal experience sites so I read those and decided on my own method.

Thankfully, it is not a difficult process. Using a kitchen grater I soon had a little pile of what looked similar to rough coffee grounds. It took a bit of muscle but was quite doable. I put a tablespoon or so in water in a pan and put it on the woodstove to simmer, not knowing if I'd even like it. I'm an herb tea woman, not much fond of coffee, and it sounded like it was more coffee than herb tea. But I kept an open mind. The brew turned a very dark color and I not only liked it, Steve did, too. It's a bit of a mild bitter flavor but not overly so. A little honey takes the edge off the bitter if you want. The next few times I kept track of how much grated Chaga, how much water, and how long a simmer so I could have some consistency in the future. It's not an exact science considering the many variables of particle size, age of the chunk, how much water, how hot, how long it simmers, etc. So it varied. But it was fine every time, just a little more or less strong. The last time I made it I used a heaping tablespoon of ground Chaga in 4 cups of water, simmered for about an hour then left in the pan for maybe several hours. Pour the very dark liquid off the grounds (which settle nicely at the bottom) into a jar, and store in refrigerator (which in our case is still the cool root cellar). Use as you wish. I like it straight thinned with water, in a small cup made by a local potter, sipped throughout the day or evening. Steve likes it in his everyday drink which is diluted orange, or other, juice. As he uses a clear glass mug for this the color is a bit odd but the flavor is good. He's tried it is his coffee and that was OK, too, but as his coffee has other amendments he prefers the Chaga in his juice drink.

I spend a fair amount of time searching and reading, planning and planting specifically for the pollinators, thinking that as I add more and more fruit that I'm counting on them to pollinate I should be adding special extras for their enjoyment and use. This is fine, and they do make use of these gifts, but they also often remind me by their actions that they are quite capable of taking care of themselves with what is already there. I do know this, it's quite obvious as our homestead is blessed with a wide and generous variety of wildflowers, and many a blossoming tree is loud with buzzing during peak time. But our pollinator population has definitely dropped. Only bumble bees seem to be in good supply, or maybe they are just the most obvious. But flowers are being pollinated, fruit and seed is being produced, nature is doing the job that nature does. There are ups and downs in all things.

And it is the plants that I didn't plant for the pollinators that remind me that all is well in spite of my fussing and mild worry. The Wild Bergamot I didn't have much hand in. Early on, maybe the late 80's, I noticed this pretty lavender flower up by the gate at the end of our road. I transplanted a little clump into the edge of the front yard wild area. They have grown there ever since, expanding some though not much, losing themselves in the surrounding vegetation until they flower and they get their well deserved attention, from the bees and us.

Some years ago more Wild Bergamots showed up by the garden gate, to our delight. We marked those few beginners so we wouldn't mow them and they responded by spreading into a really nice patch, along with a growing population of Black Eyed Susans, apparently enjoying each others company. They are a pleasing welcome to the garden, loved by the bees and other pollinators (and us), and with no assistance from me.

Over the many years I’ve tried almost all the open-pollinated carrots available and none have compared to Kinko 6" (a chantenay type), which I started growing in 1980. It is sweet when young, still very good flavor when old, good in storage, good over-wintered, nicely shaped - a great all-round carrot. All this makes it rather frustrating that it was dropped from the industry - the seed no longer available. For years I hadn’t noticed it was not available because it somewhat common ‘back when’, and I’ve grown my own seed several times since, keeping my own line alive, and hadn't needed to buy new. But my latest seed supply was running low so I started searching to buy seed, with no success.

So why not just grow my own. In a way, carrot seed is one of the easiest seeds to grow. It's biennial so one has to overwinter the roots, either inside storage or outside in the ground. Both work. But there is one very large challenge called Queen Anne’s Lace, which we have in abundance. QAL is the wild version of our garden carrot. One can eat the roots but they tend to be thinner and longer, rougher, harder to dig, white (which isn't a problem) and quite strong flavored raw though they are sweeter cooked. Our garden carrots have been selected and bred over the years to be, generally, what we prefer. The problem in growing seed is that the garden carrot when grown for seed will cross readily with QAL resulting in future roots that tend to be strong toward the wild type.

When I grew my seed in the past I did my best to mow, cut, pick, pluck the QAL flowers in our surrounding fields to avoid crossing. This was no small endeavor, fussy and time consuming, in a way futile but fairly successful. I did my best and am OK with my crop of not pure Kinko’s having occasional white roots (which though rougher are sweeter and more tender cooked than ‘regular’ carrots). But we have even more QAL now and I didn't want to go through that again, nor do I want even more wild genes in my tame seed.

The solution is to keep the pollinators from visiting and carrying pollen from the wild flowers to the tame flowers when they open. But, carrot flowers being as they are, do need to be cross pollinated - someone has to carry pollen from one flower to a different plant's flower, easily handled by the pollinators, clumsily handled by humans, at least this human. But I figured I could do that. Normally I would choose my best roots in the fall, replant them in the garden to grow the next year. But this time I didn't decide to do this till I was digging the very last of the overwintered roots this spring, and many of them had been a bit frozen on the tops and so, though good for eating wouldn't grow a seed stalk. But I managed to get seven roots to grow and flower and, like Queen Anne's lace, thankfully they do that readily.

Carrot/QAL flowers are apparently well loved by a wide variety of and sizes of pollinators. Keeping them off the flowers is no small task. I made 8"x8" bags out of a light-weight fabric (maybe curtain sheers) found at the thrift store. Originally I thought I'd just uncover them all, taking my time, romantically and patiently hand cross pollinating the flowers with a soft artist paint brush, then gently rebagging them. I didn't figure it would be too hard to shoo off pollinators. Hah!! I had no idea there were so many different insects of all sizes intent with firm purpose on getting to those cute little carrot flowers. Many are waiting on the bags, others zero in the moment that bag is untied, some manage to get inside the bags. So in reality I quickly untie two or three bags at a time, pull the bags off, quickly run the brush around back and forth, flower to flower, around and back again, trying not to be too clumsy and damaging anything, quickly replace and tie them back on, all the while shooing off all comers and reminding myself that a bit of crossing with QAL isn't going to hurt, but hoping if the pollinators have just come from another flower it is a nearby carrot not a distant QAL. I did go around inside the fence pulling off all the QAL flowers I could find to aid this hope, but there are plenty more outside the fence.

A few days ago I was up at the mailbox (which is a half mile from our house) and saw our neighbor slowly walking across her lawn, intently looking down. Figuring she must have dropped something I walked over to offer help. She showed me what she had in the paper bag in her hand. Morels! And some nice ones at that, right in their lawn. Now we've only found morels on our property a few times and that was many decades ago, barely remembered. But then we've never searched for them either. Inspired by our neighbor's find I walked back home, slowly, looking carefully down and around as I went, getting distracted by any number of interesting things. But I persevered and wandered around here and there on the homestead where it seemed morels might be. Didn't find any, but it was a nice wander.

A few days later I was in the garden on hands and knees weeding a path particularly well endowed with such things, intent in the job and whatever was in my mind, getting towards the end. Sitting back on my heels and looking ahead I saw, to my great surprise, just a few feet away, a beautiful specimen of a morel, beautifully positioned in front of the big green leaves of the rhubarb as if for a photo shoot. Well, really! I stared at it for some moments, went closer and kneeled down - was it really? Yep, that was one nice morel. I had to laugh, then went to get Steve.

After all these years, right there in the garden. Well, they do say (and we do agree) that what is in your mind becomes in your life, and morels had certainly been in my mind. When Steve came out he glanced down near his feet and there close by on the south side of the rhubarb was another morel, smaller but certainly edible size. Later I discovered a still smaller one on the other side of the patch, nestled in the grass. Why by the rhubarb? Maybe for no particular reason but it might be because I often mulch the rhubarb with leaves in the fall. I shall certainly continue that practice.

So we had morels in our dinner. They sort of got lost in the shuffle since there weren't many of them, and since I'm not real fond of the texture of mushrooms I'd cut them up. But they added their bit of flavor and nutrition, and the fun of discovering them on this magical place where we live. 

It's been a particularly cloudy November heading into December. Though colder than usual the lack of sun isn't unusual for this time of year. We get rather excited and instantly cheerful when the rare sun does show, as it did for a good ten minutes today! Not only for spirits but also for that fully appreciated solar boost to our batteries. We take the days, and weather, as it comes without complaint; happy to have some sun, happy to have some snow (even if it's only about 4" thus far), happy to be living here. I like winter. But when I came across this photo from a beautiful August day this summer I found myself gazing at it overlong, melting into the feeling of that green warmth. Steve was, of course, warmer than I was that day as he was doing the work while I stood back and appreciated what he was doing. Mostly the garden and orchard are my domain but he gets involved for special projects, like this one.

Several years ago I decided there had to be an easier way to keep the surrounding vegetation out of the garden beds. We'd tried many things over the years - mulch, carpeting, tilling, hoeing - all OK but too temporary and not particularly satisfying. I wondered about concrete pavers. We checked what was available in the simple and inexpensive line and decided to try it. Steve agreed to the job (much neater than if I'd have done it) and did the west, east and half the south borders of the 50' x 70' garden last year. It worked well and I liked it. For sure some grass roots do find their way under but not many. I was a bit afraid it might look too formal for my very 'down to earth' garden/orchard but it would take more than a neat line of pavers to make this area formal. They fit in surprisingly well. Most important, I no longer feel like I'm fighting vegetation. My garden is a wonderfully peaceful area full of joy. I like it that way and the pavers are helping.

Our world is full of magic and magical moments which we don't always notice, but sometimes they are so right in front of you that you can't miss them. This was one such. A few weeks ago we saw that a Monarch chrysalis had appeared on the overhead metal evestrough right over our front door. So beautiful and delicate looking. The main door swings in which was fine, but the screen door brushed the chrysalis as it opened setting the pretty green decoration gently swinging. So off came the screen door.

We didn't know how long it would take for the butterfly to emerge but chose not to 'look it up', just enjoy it. The last days we'd noticed the chrysalis darkening so knew something would be happening soon. I was concerned that there wasn't anything near by for the emerged butterfly to grab, if it indeed needed anything. Maybe not, but I put up a small branch just in case.

When I stepped outside before breakfast today I saw an oval spot of monarch wing color and pattern on the side of the chrysalis. Today was the magical day! After breakfast I carefully opened the door to find the fully emerged beautiful butterfly holding onto its thin (but strong!) empty case. Wow!! It was a cloudy and windy day. I'd often watched butterflies in the garden sitting on a plant in the sun slowly working their new wings but there was no sun today. Maybe later. But it wasn't time to work those wings yet. Thankfully it was warm.

Conversations with other gardeners tend often to veer at some point towards the 'wildlife bandits and outlaws' -- those creatures whose desire and search for a good meal (or maybe just a good time!) are often in conflict with the gardener's own desires for a good harvest. Over the years I've come to terms with all the varied wildlife we share this part of the world with, and generally enjoy them (a good fence helps!). They get some of ours, we get some of theirs, and overall it's a peaceful co-existence. But this year was a bit more of a challenge, thanks to the over-abundance (in our opinion) of voles. When the snow melted this spring we had the most amazing network of runs in the grass that I've ever seen (or ever hope to see again!). And I understood why we had a Barred Owl move in and stay around all winter. It saw it often in the garden and orchard. I thought it was because of the logging around us. But I'm pretty sure now that it was because of the great food supply.

Thankfully, most of my trees and bushes had hardware cloth barriers so my losses due to vole damage wasn't as bad as it could have been, and many things have recovered/regrown over the summer. The wild shrubs, trees, brambles - anything that could be chewed and eaten - had a great deal of 'thinning out', too. I bought more hardware cloth and set in to make sure ALL of my plantings are protected for this winter. I wasn't concerned about summer months because the voles pretty much are eating grass and such, not bark.

But then about every time I went out to the compost pile I had a vole or two run in or out of it, almost across my feet. That was just going too far. It was obvious they had set up a vole housing complex in my compost pile. So I got out some wooden mouse live traps Steve had made many years ago, and started catching voles - one almost every morning, and I'd take what became a routine walk to a far section of our property and release them. I certainly didn't mind the walk, but after several months the three traps (made for indoor use) were looking pretty rough, and I was getting tired of transporting voles (and cleaning the traps). Plus they were eating my red ripe peppers and cherry tomatoes. It was time to get serious about clearing this community out. I knew I wouldn't get all voles out of the garden/orchard area (there are plenty of fields around for new ones to move in from) but I needed to get this population down. So soon I had 6 new purchased plastic vole/mouse live traps in place, baited with the the best (well, cheapest) peanut butter. I was ready.

First morning - no voles. Second morning - no voles. Third, fourth. Well this was irritating. I supposed I could have gotten them all, though somehow I didn't think so. Maybe the didn't like the peanut butter. Maybe they didn't like the traps. Then the fifth day I was making my rounds checking the traps and there in the middle of the path, near one of the traps was a small scat. Mmmm. Could it be? I came in, looked up in our "Animal Tracks" book (which includes scat drawings), and yep, there it was -- a weasel. A weasel had moved in and cleared out the voles. This wasn't too much of a surprise - there had been weasel tracks this past winter by the compost pile (along with owl wing prints). It had simply come back for some more good eating. I hope it sticks around this winter.

Life is so wonderfully full, especially in the summer! There is so much going on to share with you and so little time to do the sharing. I know we'll catch up come winter and I expect your lives are equally full so just a few photos and words to let you know we're still here and enjoying the abundance of summer. Food certainly, and the garden is feeding us very well! But there is so much more.

Populations rise and fall naturally with the years and usually adjust themselves without any attention from us but we do tend to mostly notice the extremes of the peaks and valleys. Here on the homestead this past year has been a record high for voles (and I'm sincerely hoping they are on the downswing now -- at least in the garden and orchard. But I'm sure there are those who are happy with the abundance, such as the resident Barred owl, weasel, coyotes, fox, and our own LilliB.) Equally noticeable has been the unusually low population of flying insects, which means a low population of birds who depend on those insects for food. We miss having so many birds -- but we haven't missed AT ALL the usual abundance of black flys and mosquitoes. We do have birds, just not as many. Some, like the trees swallows, simply came, checked things out, and went elsewhere where the food was more plentiful (I'm guessing), though they stayed around long enough to harass the bluebirds for awhile. Some just didn't show up, like the sparrows and juncoes. Others it seems we have just one family instead of several families - robins, bluebirds, hummingbirds, gold finches, wrens, chickadees, indigo buntings, catbirds, cedar waxwings, and the hard working friendly co-gardeners Chipping Sparrows. And others. Life wouldn't be much without the birds. I don't even mind sharing some fruit with them (well, within reason!) (my reason, of course, not theirs).

But the other big absence has been pollinators -- the many kinds of bees, wasps, hornets, others. And butterflies, too. Since their numbers are so down it's a special joy to see them busily supping at the variety of flowers this time of year. I'm happy that what I'm growing in the garden and orchard is popular, from dill flowers to catnip, each with their own admirers. And with much sharing between species, like the fritillary and bee on the echinacea. Now, personally, I think the Campfire Rose (above) is much more attractive and catches my eye every time I walk in the garden, but I don't often see insects on those flowers. While the very understated small hardly noticably flowered (but prolific and quickly overgrown!) catnip is always humming with many busy bumbles the moment the first flowers appear and is never without attendance. So I allow too many to grow in the garden, brush by carefully as it grows with abandon into the paths, and weed out the many progeny.

As in so many cases, I think there is some truth to the idea of rotating in some cases but it got repeated again and again until it became a hard rule for all with little questioning of why. It's been my experience that insects are very capable of moving from one row to another to get to their favorites! Nature only "rotates" occasionally and the trees, plants, bushes generally live a healthy life, building up their own balanced ecosystems and that is what I strive to imitate in my garden. There ARE times when I rotate, usually for convenience of fitting the pieces of my plantings together (I'm always changing something), sometimes for weed control (putting thickly mulched crops such as potatoes or tomatoes in a weedy spot to clean up that area), and occasionally for a problem such as root maggots in carrots. Though I'm not sure location matters as much as timing. My tomatoes the last few years have died rather early of blight (though the tomatoes also ripened early because of that so this may not be a "problem" in my very short season!) so I'm thinking of changing the tomato and bean plots. Maybe that will help.
    The one pest I consistently have is potato bugs, and blight, and after 30 years of growing potatoes, rotating and not, I have to say it makes not any difference. Some years there are a lot, and some years there are few with no reason that I can see (though I'm sure they understand it). This year I planted potatoes in the same spot and had the fewest potato bugs ever. Our neighbor (next 80 over) also planted in the same potato area and he had more potato bugs than he'd ever seen before. Gardening is ever changing even if one never changes what and where you plant.
    As always, I fall back on experiment and experience -- my own that is. Rules are never ever the same for all, but there are enough similarities that it makes sharing fun and gives one a place to start.

Potatoes can be dug to eat whenever they are a size you want to eat them. If you are  careful you can dig around with your hand to pull out a few of the larger ones and leave the smaller ones to continue growing, usually about the time the plant is flowering. For storage they are dug after frost in fall after the plants have died down and the skins on the potatoes have firmed up (can't be easily rubbed off).

Although you can buy "canned" horseradish sauce in the stores, none of the preserving books I've seen talk about canning it. Years ago, when I first grew and grated my own, I asked a long time homesteader and horseradish lover about canning it and he said you shouldn't because the heat would ruin the flavor. But it turns out it lasts a long time anyway without canning so that isn't a problem.
    In the fall I dig a bucketful of roots and store them in the root cellar (any place cool would do). Then I process a batch of sauce (which is mainly horseradish and vinegar) which fills four or five half-pints, and I keep the jars in the cool cellar (our equivalent of a refrigerator). That lasts us for 2 to 3 months. When we run out, I do another batch from the stored roots. I've never had any horseradish sauce spoil so I can say it will last at last 3 months in cool conditions. A friend stores his in the refrigerator. Neither of us have tried keeping it any longer. I do find that it mellows as it ages however (which I like!).
    I'm just ready to make the last batch from the stored roots which are starting to sprout but are still good. That will be the last I'll make until the fall harvest. You can dig the roots in the summer, too, but I prefer to leave them to grow until fall.

GARDEN SIZE -- My husband and I are selling our home in NH and looking for a few acres and a small house in Maine where we plan to raise as much of our food as possible. I have previously grown, canned and frozen food for winter consumption, but that was some many years ago and really wasn't enough to be considered self-sufficient. Is there a simple way to size a vegetable garden for two people other than actually trying to figure yield per plant, etc.,? If there is a general rule of thumb, i'd love to hear it. --Linda, moving from New Hampshire to Maine

I'm afraid I don't have any quick and easy way to plan the size of your garden. It so much depends on individual likes and dislikes, crops and varieties grown, weather, environment, etc. Our garden has changed many, many times over the years, adjusting and adapting to our changing interests, and I'm sure will continue to change as we do. We've progressed to eating direct as much as possible out of the garden, or out of the root cellar in the winter, which saves a lot of time. And I like that. Our meals change as the crops do. One of the biggest differences over the years in how much I needed to grow, or buy, was how much one or the other of us was home (or gone -- working out). I raise a lot of what we eat, but also buy grains and raisins and oil and such. And apples in the fall when our trees are on their off years. In the early years we bought more and now we buy less.

A garden seems to naturally grow as you do and you’ll learn what you like to eat and what you don’t and how much. But no matter how much you plan and organize nature does what nature does, and each year I find I have more of this, less of that. We adapt our eating to the harvest and make use of the Food Coop for big differences (such as the coons getting all the corn, or an unexpected summer freeze wiping out the tomatoes). The biggest help for me over the years has been a garden notebook and a food inventory notebook.

COMFREY FLOWERS, LEAVES -- Should I cut the flower stalks of my comfrey plants (which are growing very well!), and how can I use the leaves?   --Sandy

You don't have to cut the flowers off the plants -- they are quite hardy and you really don't have to pamper them at all. You can use the leaves for whatever you want to -- tea, animal feed, healing, mulch. It's a wonderfully versatile plant.

HEIRLOOM PEPPER VARIETIES

I only grew Vinedale a few years as I found another that did better in my garden (Georgescu -- a vigorous plant, large blocky yellow from NJ CA J), and I didn't maintain the Vinedale.   Meantime, I've tried a number of peppers since as I continually had some rot in the Geogescu's (but they did well other than that). I found two that were more reliable here -- Sunshine (large green variable bell and non-bell with a thinner wall, turns yellow-orange early) (IN BL S '00); and Red Belgium (earliest, thick walled, mild, light yellow non-bell, smaller plant, turns bright red) (MI FL J '00). Getting some rot in Sunshine as well, so I've decided to stick with Red Belgium. I also occasionally grow a hot pepper that came originally from Johnny's many years ago, since dropped -- Caliente Hot Pepper. You have reminded me how much I enjoy the "other part" -- experimenting with varieties, searching out the histories and stories behind them, and the sharing.