This morning
There are three toms who hang together and have been visiting pretty frequently this winter. This morning one was a little less shy than usual. This is a really high definition image, I recommend maximizing it.
Here we are
We were alive
Now we are supposed to become permanent objects. It is a great journey and we are not sure how to complete it.
is not something one wants to wake up saying, I presume, yet these are a very well behaved bunch. I’ve not even seen them casting even the least sidelong glance at their friends and neighbors.
Solanum uporo. The cannibal tomato. There is no wiki link however – that’s suspicious. Reported/reputed to be a favorite of cannibals on Fiji, back in the day, to add to the soup. This is the second year I’ve grown them. They germinated very very well.
They’re a little bitter – that could be because I keep them well-supervised. They get added the harvest soup here, and what we harvest is plants grown here.
Early October.
I’ve never had big luck with carrots, not that I can say that I’ve ever tried really hard to give them what they might need. I threw a few purple carrot seeds down in the Spring and there is some return.
In the pot next to the carrot is the self-seeded outdoor across a New England winter solanum aviculare. If it wants to live that bad I’ll bring it in for the winter, as it did not get to producing it’s aborigine delighting kangaroo apples. It’s only droopy because I just pulled it out of the earth.
Below I was trying to get a back-lit picture of a great lulo leaf that grows on the porch. A little over-exposed, I think, but these leaves are fabulous.
Still some blooming, as here a cosmos struggles to get past the swan gourd vine that took over everything.
Still a little basking in late summer sun – as here a creature I’ve not observed before in Carlisle (a snail with a shell) does a little sunning on a moldy leaf.
Unperturbed, because they know winter not, my porcupine tomatoes quietly thrive unaware of their coming doom.
My sunflower had nothing else to say.
This post really could be also be called mid-September backyard walkabout as well, but that headline (month/backyard) was getting a little tired. As previously a lot of working for a dollar has interrupted the life of country gentleman wannabe. Desiring always though to be close to the beauty and wonder of growing things, this update.
First, I had done a wave of re-potting a few weeks ago. This trend cannot go on forever, as things get too big to manage, but for this season it looks like the most of the status quo can be maintained. The macadamia sapling previously reported upon liked it’s upgrade very much and responded by swapping it’s dead crown for a triune substitute. This is a very heartening thing, no doubt with mystical significance.
The encephalartos horridus of previous mention continues to unfold.
The lulos continue to make beautiful leaves. If anyone knows what makes them want to flower do tell. I know when I bring them in that the leaves are aphid-bait deluxe. Last winter I was barely successful in getting them through and this winter I will fight the good fight but I’d sure love a little flowering.
The cannibal tomatoes approach ripeness.
A green tree agate sits quietly
Baby pumpkins nap
Autumn approaches, weeds and Korean dogwoods show fruit.
Hollies get their berries.
and to get to the title, saved for last, great swan gourds – as in “Great Swan Gourds, Batman, the Joker has really grown a vegetable here” – ripen.
July raced by amidst a great deal of working for a dollar. I turn around and nature has just been racing through its seasonal agenda, so a bit of a photo-documentary follows. All these pictures are high-density, lots of detail when expanded.
First, a ‘stringybark’ – this is one of the Eucalytpus diaspora I have, showing now in it’s second year a bit of that characteristic. Now there are many kinds of stringybark and I usually lose the sourcing on my seeds, so which one I’m not sure, nonetheless:
Moving along, we find an update on the Encephalartos horridus, where last month I had expressed the hope a new stalk would be coming this year.
While at adjacent places on the deck, the young jackfuit tree keeps thriving – needs and presently will get a dedicated pot.
And just turning 180 degrees, the problematic lulos. I really want these to flower and fruit and it seems that despite the various environments I try them in, and while they go through thrivings and die-backs, that I don’t have the secret. Maybe it’s just that I can’t well mimic mountainous rainforest conditions – I don’t know.
Nearby, getting a little summer sun and enjoying it though, except that it’s leaves fry when we get greater than a sunny 90, is the macadamia. I picked up a few nuts on the big island with my younger daughter in 2010. One of them sprouted and has not looked back.
Next to that an herb that is good in omelettes, in sausage, in sauce – purslane. Grows like a weed, only sprouts in high heat. Look around, you’ll find it growing somewhere near. I’ve added it to my cooking in the last few years and am pleased with it.
Notice behind it too the wild solanum nigrum – some call it nightshade and if so, so what – the deadly one is atropa belladona. Do your research, of course. This one, or a close variant, is also often called wonderberry. I’ve added it to my cooking as well and preserves made of it – it’s a fabulous thing, a purple berry that’s built like a pea-sized tomato, is sweet and juicy. worth knowing. Easy to find in disturbed waste edges pretty much anywhere. General remarks about foraging must include the caution to pay very good attention and proceed carefully.
While we’re on the subject of solanums at the edge I must mention solanum aviculare:
yep, that’s that mottled thing in the picture, next to its cousin the thorny porcupine tomato I’ve previously introduced. I got some seeds of these from Down Under a couple of years back (2009), they sprouted well, grew well – I have tales of the wintering of the plants, the getting of them to bear fruit, etc, etc, yet to tell, the research to decide if they, known as ‘kangaroo apples’ are or are not poisonous. Aboriginals eat them when fully ripe, so there’s evidence they’re ok at least at some point. I’ve eaten them when fully ripe and some say to make salsa of them. All in all they don’t taste too special but I suppose if survival is the question taste is less of a question. Thing is this particular motley plant surprised me because it sprouted by itself, from fallen fruit from the previous year, not something I though would happen. When I save the fruit it’s made and next year plant those seeds I’ll be going into fifth generation North American kangaroo apples – practically vintage, as these things go.
OK, so leaving the bottomless subject of solanum then, a little freak of a euphorbia comes next, growing these last two years behind the palm tree.
All that triune wonder at the top with the red edges is new. It spent almost two years before deciding to grow, so I was not sure if it was just a suspended animation sort of plant.
And finally off the deck we go – not quite a walkabout if we don’t walk about. First we come to the surprise of the year, a ‘swan melon’ that seeks to dominate the world. I’ve had at most sporadic luck with squash across the years but this one seems to thrive on hardship. It has taken over more than its share – and of course, just to be ironic, not a fruit has it borne – as yet it’s an aggressive nuisance.
This can be walked past, though, without too much danger – or at least I was able to pass it – perhaps it had had lunch already.
Around to the other side, a tree whose story was told in Resurrection Oak:
connects me each time I behold it.
Now there are some obligatory shots. As I said in July the platycodon was late. It did finally arrive
And it would not be August if one did not stalk and photograph a dragonfly
that one is on a Montauk daisy leaf.
I’ve got two shots of rue – suitable for wallpaper if you like – the intent is deliver the benefits of rue (ruta graveolens) – in ancient times it was hung in doorways to keep evil spirits out, so please, download as wallpaper if you think it will help.
And I know this is just one of those things that goes on forever but I’ve saved the best for last – the Zombie Cat Pig – yes, that’s right. Well, ok, it’s really only a stone Zombie Cat Pig, but it should serve as word (or an image) to the wise.
What is it? I’ve seen the cousin in leaf shades before but never one with markings like this – also too I don’t know the name of the base thing/genre/creature.
Now this post may be about many things, but it also is about few, simple things. If you have music to cue, please cue a nice version of ‘Simple Gifts’ – if I can find one that’s kosher to link I will, but for the time being we’ll leave that as an optional part of the exercise.
You can see that these are blocks of wood. That’s pretty simple. There is a section of the Tao Te Ching – I think it’s section 15 – that was always one of my favorites.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fifteen
The ancient masters were subtle, mysterious, profound, responsive.
The depth of their knowledge is unfathomable.
Because it is unfathomable,
All we can do is describe their appearance.
Watchful, like men crossing a winter stream.
Alert, like men aware of danger.
Courteous, like visiting guests.
Yielding like ice about to melt.
Simple, like uncarved blocks of wood.
Hollow, like caves.
Opaque, like muddy pools.
Who can wait quietly while the mud settles?
Who can remain still until the moment of action?
Observers of the Tao do not seek fulfillment.
Not seeking fulfillment, they are not swayed by desire for change.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now what is being said there may or may not be simple, but it seems to think that uncarved blocks of wood are simple. These four blocks have been sitting unobtrusively on my desk for the last half year and until today they were rough cut – six cuts each – to make them blocks. Today I am not sure what came over me but I decided that they wanted to be sanded and have a light coat of tung oil applied – I think my rationale was that I did not want them readily picking up coffee stains or any of the other staining things that sometimes visit my desk. They’ve been very useful, I stand things like the phone or my token-generating fob upon them, I bring things to the right height for a given purpose. I array them aesthetically at times while contemplating larger matters. When the mice accept their poison evasion medals these are the pedestals upon which they stand.
Before considering the question of whether uncarved blocks of wood are simple I think there is some duty to examine each one a bit.
First the one that, at least the wood of which, I’ve had the longest. It’s a red gum Eucalyptus from California. I cut this from a much larger slab. It’s very dense.
The second is a wood I highly favor, the orange osage, maclura pomifera, hedge apple, also very dense. Bright yellow when cut, slowly darkens to a honey brown.
Getting on now to an unknown wood – it’s either cherry or redwood and a more experienced soul or scientist could surely tell, but not I – I’d be inclined to guess redwood if I had to because it just does not seem as dense and the many pieces of cherry I have known, but again. I have five pictures here, two prior to the tung oil showing really fascinating grain and then three afterward. Flames, as they call them, came out on the less figured sides after the oil but the figured sides darkened a bit more than was advantageous to showing the grain.
and lastly there was a sickly wild cherry in our yard that seemed an ideal subject to teach my younger daughter how to use a chain saw. This is a core sample, if you will. There were a lot of growths and infestations that had the tree really struggling. You can see some of those battles in the three pictures below.
Now before we get to simple, we’ll have to ask if these qualify as uncarved. I’d say they do inasmuch as it’s still just the six cuts. Anything less and it’s barely a block so much as a chunk. Is this our meditation for simplicity then?
Quietly listen as the stains of the music waft along –
… when true simplicity is gained to bow and to bend we shall not be ashamed
now I am not sure that the simplicity spoken of in the song and the simplicity in the Tao are the same, so we can turn the song down now if it’s causing cognitive dissonance. The Shaker sense of simplicity seems a lot about humility, which is a high virtue but perhaps not at the core of what simplicity is.
Simple, like uncarved blocks of wood. All that describes though is the appearance of the ancient masters. Simple, like uncarved blocks of wood. Sorry to put yo through all this – it just gnaws on my mind now and then. I see beauty and great stories of origin and experience, of becoming – expressions of potential realized through changing conditions.
Anyway, I have these four blocks of wood on my desk and they don’t do too much except be blocks of wood on my desk – simplest thing ever.
Good Evening,
This post intends to build on the recent Eucalypti post, the recent July Flowers post, and to set the stage for an upcoming Solanum post. First just following the July Flowers, there’s one lily that gets much more interesting as its bloom diminishes – a whole gradient of rich colors emerge. Tulips do this sometimes too, and irises.
Next follow the Encephalartos horridus, a rare blue cycad I’ve had for this is now it’s fourth summer. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Encephalartos_horridus. Not sure what makes it so horrible, except when repotting it earlier this year one little spine did stick in me and prove more irritating than usual for such a small thing. Supposedly it does not like too much moisture and getting too much diminishes its prized blueness, so I try to put it under things on rainy days and out in the sun on sunny days. Each of the first two years it sent up one stalk, last year two including the big one – I hope this year it will be vivacious but I’m not getting that feeling. Could be the weather.
A little nopalito sprout – you can eat ’em too, and that’s a spicy red rocoto in the foreground. Last Christmas I put five of those in the stuffing – they have a different heat than habaneros, very sturdy, a different flavor.
Next, since we’ve gotten to a solanum in the rocoto, some background. Last year I was on kind of a solanum spree, planting as many varieties as I could find readily on the internet, just to examine their kinship more viscerally. I’m quite fascinated at the divergent evolution of plant genomes and wonder how far they have to get apart before they cant’ cross back – now I know science has real answers for that but I always hope like Yogi Berra said “You can see a lot just by looking”. So anyway I planted porcupine tomatoes and cannibal tomatoes and lulos and pepinos and anything else I could find. The cannibal tomato apparently got it’s name because it was the ideal thing to throw in the pot with your neighbor – really brought out the flavor. I had three sprout last year, two bore fruit – I found it bitter. I saved some seeds and this year the germination was high. I certainly hope that there’s no reverse cause and effect gong on with them, that having them, well – but that’s magical realism for ya – have to be careful where you go.
continuing then, the porcupine tomatoes took a similar path except that they did not bear fruit. I was able to winter three over. These I planted in late April and they will bear fruit this year. Word is not to eat this fruit – the thorns may look scary but scarier are the special alkaloids – not to be messed with.
The pepino was planted late, I had three in the autumn, one made it to Spring, no picture just now. The lulos I went three for three on the wintering despite major insect challenges but they’ve very sensitive to heat and light and I’ve had a lot of epochs (in such a short time) of foliage die-off and regrowth. Right now they’re partially under our extruded kitchen, trying to find the right degree of shadow for them. Really hoping they will flower, not sure I can bring them across another winter indoors.
Alright, so that’s part of the present state and a partial introduction to the complete Solanum files, to be published incrementally here. Moving on to Eucalypti – you should by now be familiar with the history in context, and would that that were all, but I continued. Twice, in 2011 and 2012 I got batches of seeds, fewer in 2011 and more in 2012. A little bit more chasing of the holy grail of a Eucalyptus hardy enough to winter north of Boston, and a little bit on the chase of the gnarly seeded thing that for some reason I’ve come to believe is a kind of E. moort. Somehow during early seedling/sprout time I am certain to lose the identifiers to one malady or another, so I always end up with a collection of interesting eucalypti not all of which I can identify. First – the neglecta:
Supposedly the seeds wanted striation, six weeks at around freezing, like in the refrigerator, but I don’t know what I was thinking and I had them in the freezer for a few months. Then the summer (last) when they (there are four) were tiny (oh, wait, here’s a baby picture of this same one)
that summer was really blazing and many of the seeds were just burned to death despite thrice daily watering – 100 degrees, with oil in your leaves, just makes a sizzling bad outcome. The point of all this is that the ones who lived both through the extra long cold night in the freezer and this blazing birth rite of passage are likely to be the ones with the broadest tolerances (or so I hope) and to be fit when I put them out, not this winter but next, for that ultimate test.
Other eucalypti on the porch from the 2012 seed bonanza:
And that just about does it for this episode of Growing Things, except of course you were curious about the progress of the young giant Jack. He’s ripping.
