From July 6th: The days pass in a colorful blur of verdant green, summer flowers, and blue sky. When I close my eyes, the sun dots them with phosphene blooms.This morning, thunder rumbles from across the bay; a storm forming as it moves over the water. The air changes and the rain comes. Summer’s version of the ocean effect. Coreopsis seeds that were planted in spring are now a riot of blooms on tall, feathery stems. Cheery yellow flowers all smiling, their deep red-orange centers dusted with pollen. I try to harvest them daily; it doesn’t always happen and luckily, they don’t seem to mind. Even the wilted ones will do just fine in the dye pot. Cotton muslin scraps were...
A few hours before dawn the other day, I woke to find the waning moon wearing the light of the sun like a jewel. It hung above the eastern horizon, sunlight painting a sliver of its darkened face bright and hot in the dawn sky, Jupiter and Saturn quietly looking on.In the fog of sleepiness, it’s easy to think we are still, unmoving; that the stars and planets revolve around us. But that fiery slash of sun in the dark is proof upon waking that we are all a-tumble in the sky; ancient inertia from the birth of the cosmos still giving us a shove.Tomorrow sun and earth will move into the vernal equinox. This marks the beginning and...
There are a few wild asparagus plants scattered about at this spot near the bay. I check in on them often. Each year, they are always a surprise. Feathery and light, in summer they’re barely discernible in the marsh grass and beach rose, just a tall mirage of shimmering green. A couple of cedar trees stand sentinel nearby, acting as a wind block from the weather coming off the bay, trunks bent like bonsai.In the 1930’s, almost 250 acres of Eastham was covered in asparagus beds; it’s said the nation’s best grew here. Generations later, their resilient offspring still dot the sands of Cape Cod, a connection to the past that continues to grow without the help or hand of...
It took 40 dips in indigo to create these blues. Each white linen piece took a turn in the vat 10X, and amazingly there is still color left in the vat for more. My vat is a living thing. I stir it daily - three times throughout the day to keep it breathing.Dyeing with indigo is a moving meditation. I get lost in the vat, in the flow of the fibers in my hands, the magic of the alchemy. The blue you see doesn’t come easy; indigo pigment is not soluble in water like most plant color. Indigo must go through a reduction process in order for the dye to show itself. And even in that form, it’s known as...
I counted 12 lavender plants in my gardens this season. Some I started from seed when Thomas + I moved in a couple of years ago, some were bought with a good head start.Just the other day, they began to flower and the bees have been dancing around them ever since.Easy to grow, yet a bit tedious to harvest, it takes about 20-30 minutes to work my way through each plant; I leave half the stems behind for the bees and their dancing, and for the promise of seed for next year.These flowers are precious. Some get sent off to my CSA customers, the rest will be hung for drying. Once the moisture has been removed, the flowers will be...
