Tag Archive | apricot tree

Delicious Weekend

Apr13

It’s unfortunate that major media expends so much energy rehashing bad news, when there is actually a lot of good news happening every day. I’m grateful that Jess Craven publishes Extra! Extra! every Sunday to elucidate the good news that shows an undercurrent of positive, hopeful change in this country.

I made an interesting chicken and cauliflower soup over the weekend. It wasn’t simple or exactly delicious, but did introduce me to a tasty trick. The chicken thighs were seared in the pot first, then the crisp skin pulled off and roasted until it was “shatteringly crisp,” and crumbled on top of the finished soup.

I was grateful for a splendid success in the Birthday Cake Challenge. Not only did the cake turn out beautifully, but I acquired some new skills. Unintentionally, I learned how to make sweetened coconut shreds out of unsweetened flakes. There was no sweetened coconut in the store so my dear resourceful personal shopper purchased unsweetened flakes, above.

Locating instructions was the hard part; once I found them it was easy. I pulsed the flakes a half cup at a time for just a few seconds in my coffee grinder—it was a great excuse to give it a thorough cleaning. Then for each cup of shreds I dissolved a quarter cup of water and a teaspoon of sugar in a saucepan, took it off the heat, and stirred in the coconut. But first, I experimented with one cup replacing white sugar with maple syrup. Confident in the technique, I spread that out to dry and use later, mixed the remainder with white sugar, and set it aside for morning.

Then I baked the ‘Upgraded German Chocolate Cake’ from Sally’s Baking Addiction. I usually just fudge the high altitude adjustments, but due to my recent baking record I followed them all precisely, using the table on King Arthur’s website, tweaking flour, sugar, liquid and leaveners as well as baking temperature and time. The sponges were perfect.

After they cooled completely and before heading to bed, I stacked them with their parchment papers between layers so I could store them safely under the cakestand lid to prevent drying out or interference. I didn’t think Wren or Topaz would get to them, but better safe than sorry.

Sunday morning I enjoyed the cherry blossoms again, and a quiet read with Wren during coffee.

And then I started on the frosting. I toasted the pecans, beat the eggs, measured the coconut and brown sugar, and cooked everything to perfection in plenty of time to let it cool completely and chill for an hour in the fridge. Then I commenced construction.

But I couldn’t let it go at that. The day before I pulled out a bag of frozen apricots from the last bountiful year and cooked a quick compote with a bit of sugar and a squeeze of lemon juice. The consistency was perfect, and I hid it inside the frosting between the first and second layers. After all, the cake was to celebrate the apricot king!

I finished assembling the cake in time to check in at Cousins’ Zoom, and then delivered the cake next door right on time. It was precarious. Frosted, the cake was just too tall to fit under the lid so I grabbed a spare cardboard box and braced the stand with more cardboard, leveled the box on the back seat, and Wren and I drove around the block slowly.

Neighbor Fred has been pruning and consulting on the apricot tree for however long it’s lived here, neither of us can recall, but at least twenty years. I’m forever grateful for him. He seemed happy with his cake.

And after we each enjoyed a piece of it, Mary sent me home with a generous tithe that will see me through the next few mornings’ coffees. Now, who’s birthday is next, I wonder?

Local Color

Oct5

The past few days living inside the kaleidoscope…

Another Day Alive

Jul12

The Fire Moon, or as some would call it, the Buck Moon, full on Thursday night through the smoke haze.

I’ve got onions protected from grasshoppers in two net cubes, and this morning while it was still cool, I wore a wet cloth mask outside to remove the cube, thin the onions, and replace the cube.

Later I trimmed the onions and divided them into proto-bulbs to use instead of leeks in some vichyssoise, coarsely chopped greens to make into pesto, and finely chopped greens for garnishes and salads this week.

I grated one of the two little cabbages I’ve harvested, and some store bought carrots, to make coleslaw and put some in a sandwich with leftover roasted chicken.

The air by then was clear enough to eat lunch outside, though I could see smoke billowing from the South Rim fire beyond the apricot tree. Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park Facebook page shared several photos of the fire, and reassured people that the Visitor Center had not burned, and also that the fire had not jumped the canyon: they’d gotten a lot of calls from people on the north side worried about the thick smoke. Here are two of those images from the park’s page.

It’s startling to see that it’s spotting down into the canyon. It would take some precision water drops to put out those fire spots. It could easily spark from there to the other side with a few exploding embers. I started packing pet supplies into go-bags this evening just in case.

The smoke continued blowing due east rather than northeast, so by evening the air quality here had improved from 150 to 50. We were able to visit the tadpoles and spiders at the pond for awhile, and leave the doors open until bedtime to get a cooling breeze through the house.

For dinner, I used up some frozen corn that was open making this cheesy grits dish, sautéing a few of the onions in butter, adding the corn, then two cups milk and two cups water, and when it boiled stirring in slowly a cup of grits. When that had cooked into a creamy porridge, I added more butter, grated cheddar and parmesan and topped with a dash of homegrown paprika and chopped onion tops.

After supper, we drove up to get the mail, and a better view of the sky. Above, the South Rim smoke cloud settled over the West Elks, while below, the Sowbelly haze colored sunset, resulting in gorgeous clouds overhead. It was just another full day alive, for which I’m profoundly grateful.

Flowering Trees

May7

I’m grateful to see quite a few baby apricots that survived sequential deep freezes in early spring. And grateful to see the first-year cherry sapling buzzing with so many different species of native bees.

I’m grateful to spend time with the lilacs and their bees, and to perfume the house with fresh blossoms clipped daily; and grateful to see the crabapple continue hosting butterflies and bees.

And back to the cherry tree, because I just can’t get enough of it. I’m grateful for the warm sunny days that preceded the past two days of rain and hail: grateful for the moisture, and that the hail was small and brief and probably didn’t do much damage to anything in the garden.

Resilience

Apr11

I’m pleased to report a balmy forecast for the next couple of weeks, which bodes well for the astonishing number of viable apricot blossoms that have opened over the past three days. I’m grateful to have seen one honeybee in my dozen trips to move the deep watering stick around the crown line, and a number of native bees, mostly various tiny fast sweat bees. It’s time to bring out the husband-camera for a closer look this weekend. I’ll keep my attention trained on the beauty of the weather, instead of the unseasonable warmth (a high of 76F/24.4C) and rapidly increasing wildfire danger. Biko and all the seedlings are staying out overnight for the first time. I hope to get cabbages, onions, and fennel into their beds by Sunday night.

A native beefly, the hummingbird of the bee world, in the center of the image; and the largest of the pollinators in the tree today.

Resilience

Apr3

Though all the blossoms that had opened are frozen brown and wilted, there’s a suggestion of life in the remaining buds. Where there is courage and resilience, there is hope. Hope is a verb that may yet bear fruit.

Joys and Sorrows

Apr2

In Taoist and Buddhist philosophies there’s the idea of accepting both the ten thousand joys and the ten thousand sorrows in a life. We tend to seek after and cling to the pleasures, and try to avoid the inevitable sorrows. With equanimity, we can allow both joy and sorrow in our lives without unnecessary mental suffering. Today I experienced one significant sorrow and one memorable joy.

Our beautiful apricot tree was fairy dusted along with the rest of the landscape by yesterday’s snow. But sadly, the overnight temperature plunged to 13 degrees Fahrenheit, nipping in the bud any hope of future fruit. Oh, there may remain a few tight buds that weren’t destroyed and might ripen, but Neighbor Fred doesn’t think it’s likely. We’re both grateful we’re not professional fruit farmers, as he used to be. So that’s my personal sorrow for the day. I’m glad I savored the blossoms while I could. And grateful that I still have some 2023 apricots left in the freezer to savor this summer.

The joy, ah, the joy! Tonight was the 20th birthday celebration of the Bibliofillies! We had planned an afternoon in-person party at our Founding Mother’s house, but it was just too cold, so we met on zoom this evening. Diane emailed us all our full 20-year archive of books we’ve read to date; I baked lemon-blossom cupcakes with lemon-cream cheese frosting and delivered one to each Filly along with a candle provided by our Founding Mother. We reminisced about our very first discussion (Portrait of a Lady, Henry James), and newer members recalled their first Filly books. And we discussed and savored, swooned over and shared, our favorite characters, themes, and passages from this month’s book, Time of the Child by Niall Williams.

Of the many, one that resonated with several of us was this: “…not for the first or last time recalling his father’s adage that the central challenge of life was to accept that the world is a place of pain, And yet live. Yet live, Jack.” Which reminded me of the ten thousand joys and the ten thousand sorrows. The book itself is a humongous joy!

Stepping Up

Apr1

More moments of ephemeral beauty, snowflakes and blossoms off and on all day.

Lunch was a deconstructed Brie and apricot sandwich, spread with an ancestral silver butter knife, savored bite by bite.

Where’s Wren?

I thought it would be climate chaos that I had to worry over for the rest of my life, trusting that at least I’d have the luxury of a stable government, even if it might be reticent to brake the industrial exploitation of our living planet. I thought it would at least keep moving in right direction rather than expediting planetary systems collapse (acidifying and warming oceans, extreme weather fluctuations and storms, catastrophic drought and floods, species extinctions, and so on). I believed that at least some of my taxpayer dollars would go to protect public lands and conservation science. Also, I expected my tax dollars to support roads, bridges, healthcare, water conservation through wise irrigation projects, retirement and disability benefits I paid into, etc., rather than fattening the self-absorbed lifestyles of the rich and greedy. I’m disappointed.

But maybe New Jersey Senator Cory Booker will help us turn the tide. He really rose to the occasion with his record-breaking filibuster today. We can all join the movement to save democracy: step up and take to the streets this Saturday.

Priorities

Mar31

Late sun before the storm. These tenuous blossoms may be gone tomorrow, like anything else. I stepped away from a meeting this evening to savor the golden sunset light because it seemed more important.

Courage and Resilience

Mar30

The apricot tree is popping! In just three days since her haircut she’s bursting with spring blossoms. I’ve made sure to savor this ephemeral sight today. Though there are plenty more buds on each twig, winter weather is returning over the next week starting tonight when it could dip below freezing. A few days later snow is predicted and lows in the mid-20s. Fingers crossed enough flowers hang on through freezes to bring a healthy crop this year.

Though I’m thrilled there is also sadness. I have only seen a few honeybees so far this year. There are black flies hatching everywhere, but where I should have seen bees all over the crocuses and mini irises, I didn’t see more than a couple. Each time I checked the weather app today I thought, Where will we get our weather forecasts if they shut down NOAA? The stupidity and cruelty of the regime have seeped into every conversation and simmer beneath every conscious thought. I have moments of peace and flickers of joy, and I work hard for every one of them.

Almost everyone I know is doing something to resist the abuse of this incompetent, incomprehensible administration. Garden Buddy bought a bunch of sunflower packets to take with her to the HANDS OFF! demonstration next Saturday. Find one near you here! If you’re not doing anything yet, you can start by paying attention: You are being gaslighted. Everything we counted on about America is getting torn apart. This is really happening. We have got to fight back.

Given the already overloaded interdependent systems on our fragile earth, this full frontal assault on American democracy and human decency feels like the total collapse of our species is imminent. I’m too tired to enumerate all the unraveling threads, but I feel especially dedicated to staying physically healthy right now. The US was a keystone in public health across the globe, and every agency that held infectious disease at bay has been crippled or dismantled. Whether it’s mosquitoes, or measles, or a mutant AIDS strain, an Avian flu or some other crossover event, the elimination of US research, scientists, and health professionals on the ground around the world makes every human on the planet more susceptible to the next pandemic. I’m going to get my spring Covid shot next week because who knows if there will be another one? Cuts to Medicaid alone would decimate rural hospital and clinic systems, hampering healthcare in my county, and yours too if you live anywhere in rural America.

Some things I’m grateful for besides apricot blossoms, my strange little creature, learning how to knit cables, and red tulips, are that I got my hip replaced last fall (knowing that Medicare might collapse), that I started taking Social Security as soon as I was eligible (knowing that Social Security might collapse), and that I’ve had a good run this lifetime.

I’m also grateful for comic relief wherever I can find it, as in this musical message from the Marsh Family. They have a slew of great parodies on Youtube, doing their part to speak out and make a difference. Sadly, their Bohemian Rhapsody parody about J6 didn’t swing the electorate, but it was a smashing effort and well worth six minutes of your time. Their creativity, Garden Buddy’s sunflowers, our local Indivisible chapter’s dedication and companionship, my good neighbors, and my irate friends around the country all keep me from just hiding my head under a blanket.

My words for the year are Courage and Resilience. Because why not? As the Dalai Lama says, “Be optimistic. It feels better.” As W.S. Merwin wrote, “On the last day of the world, I would want to plant a tree.” And as Mary Oliver wrote, “You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” From that love you will find the courage to act, and the resilience to wake up and start over again each day.