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Almost a decade ago I tried my first booze-free challenge. The sacrifice and discipline were minimal and the rewards were ample. So I repeated it the following year launching a welcome annual ritual. I eventually added a sugar fast to the yearly reboot, and having just wrapped up my 2023 alcohol and sugar detox, this weekend was an opportunity to celebrate.
Yesterday marked the conclusion of my 7th or 8th, maybe even my 9th “dry January”… For some sadomasochistic reason I’ve decided in recent years to add a sugar fast to alcohol abstention during the month of January, a timely recovery after the excesses of Thanksgiving-through-New Years… (Source: Midpoint Milestone: 6 Months Down, 6 Months to Go)
With January expired and my sugar fast goal achieved it was time to break the fast with a sugar binge. A maple sugar binge (see above) followed by an absurd daylong gorging on dark chocolate. Shameful! And divine.
Break Fast Haiku
Sugar free five weeks;
a maple syrup drizzled
pancake breaks the fast.
Sometimes it’s the simple things… Timely sweets. Maple syrup. Haiku. (Sometimes sugar cravings and poetry cravings go hand-in-hand!)
We walked down the road from the tennis court and stopped off at my parents’ house, still closed up for the winter. It would be several weeks before my parents arrived in Rock Harbor for the summer, and by then the asparagus would have gone to seed, so we picked enough for dinner and enough extra to bring back to the city for another meal.
I also picked a fistful of rhubarb to sauté with maple syrup for dessert. Susan disliked rhubarb, but I loved the lip puckering tartness. The taste transports me instantly to The Farm.
My parents, living and working in New York City, had purchased an 1840s farmhouse on 85 acres near Greenwich, New York five months after getting married. I was born less than two years later.
Although The Farm served primarily as a weekend getaway for the next five years, it dominates the geography of my earliest childhood. A stream of nostalgia gilded memories flow from this pastoral source: exploring the time-worn barns, absent livestock except for those conjured up by my energetic imagination and the swallows which darted in and out, building nests in the rafters, gliding like darts through dusty sunbeams; vegetable gardening with my mother; tending apple, pear and quince trees with my father; eating fresh rhubarb, strawberries and blackberries; discovering deer and raccoons and snakes and even a snapping turtle.
Lately I’ve been reflecting on all the trees I wish I’d planted in the fall of 2006 and the spring of 2007. We’ve been adding new trees for a year now — a half dozen or so each spring and fall — and yet I can’t help but imagine what might be today if I’d started earlier. Fruit trees ten or twelve feet tall would still be blooming. We would have been harvesting apples and pears and plums and apricots and peaches for a couple of seasons by now.
In fact, we have harvested some apples and pears during the last two years, but they didn’t come from newly planted trees. I’ve been restoring a couple dozen gnarly, long neglected apple trees (and two pear trees) scattered throughout the meadows behind our barns. Whittling a third of their old growth away each season, I’ve begun to nurse the old trees back to health, and several have begun to produce palatable fruit.
I’ve wiled away many beautiful hours lopping and sawing from the top of a ladder or winding my way through the limbs like a monkey. I’ve loved every minute of it and not just for the promise of future fruit.
It’s a funny thing, an orchard. So many functions wrapped up in one little plot of land, one little grid of fruit trees. Obviously one of the most important is also the most self evident: an orchard is a neighborhood “market”, if you will. A fresh fruit grocery less than a minute from the kitchen. An organic grocery where I can be 100% confident that no pesticide and no unwholesome ripening techniques have sullied the fresh fruit.
Doug carrying orchard ladder
And then there are the flowers. Gardeners, landscapers, poets and painters have romanced the seasonal blossoms of fruit trees for hundreds of years. I am no exception despite my utilitarian, upcountry ways. An orchard is a geometric bouquet of blooms, an annual riot against leafless canopies and gray, drizzly spring days. And even when blossoms flutter earthward and the boughs fill with thick plumes of adolescent foliage, there remains a subtle nobility in the orchard’s orderly procession.
During hot summer days the orchard becomes contemplative, concentrating on nurturing promises into bounty. The fruit trees reach deep into the cool earth for water and high into the sky for sunshine. They brace their increasingly heavy load against winds and thunderstorms.
And then it’s time for the harvest. Whether a crisp apple plucked during a mid-day walk with Griffin or a pear sauce cooked down with vanilla, cloves and a jigger of maple syrup, I’ve already begun to enjoy the fruits of my labors. This August through October should offer up an even more robust crop of apples and pears. And someday soon I hope to acquire a cider press and invite friends and neighbors for a weekend of fruit gathering and cidering. A potluck. Music in the meadows. And by then, with luck, the apricots and peaches and plums will have begun to produce as well. What fruity feasting we’ll do!
Old Apple Tree; New Chapter (Photo credit: virtualDavis)
During the winter months another often overlooked function of the orchard reveals itself. In order to maintain healthy fruit trees while improving their physical architecture and productivity it’s necessary to prune the trees during the period of winter dormancy. This is a chore, and the bigger the orchard grows, the bigger the chore. But unlike most chores, pruning an orchard is far more than a line item on a To Do list.
There’s a creative element, shaping and guiding the trees’ growth habit year after year. And there is a serotonin inducing pick-me-up triggered by dedicating yourself to an activity during the winter doldrums which will increase summer abundance. An investment in future harvests.
But for me, the single greatest reward of fruit tree orcharding occurs during the off-season. My bride is an avid and dedicated practitioner of yoga. Not I. For me it’s fruit tree pruning. I don’t think it’s a reach to suggest that pruning fruit trees in the late winter and early spring is my yoga. It’s my mindfulness meditation.
And then there’s grafting… But that alchemist’s hobby for another day, another post.
Now I’m off to sleep to dream of the orchards we might have had today if we could have initiated our orchard yoga sooner!
Another spectacular day in Essex! Perfect summer days mean great gardens, and soon enough I’ll be posting a garden update to show you how well the tomatoes, eggplants, peppers and Brussels sprouts are doing. But first I’d like to introduce you to one of the lifestyle luxuries we’re able to enjoy as Essex residents. Please meet Sara Kurak and James Graves of Full and By Farm.
We pick up our farm share every Thursday evening, and Sara emails the farm members in the morning to let us know what to expect. I’m including last week’s note in its earthy entirety below, and the video tells a little piece of the haying story described in in her note. I hope you enjoy both! Here’s the Full and By Farm note for June 17, 2011.
We are trucking right along this week—moving animals, planting crops, harvesting, weeding, cutting hay, cutting soap, building wagons, enjoying the moderately warm sunshine. This is our first year cutting our own hay and the learning and preparation curves have been steep. Given the uncertain weather predictions for the week and all of our new-to-us equipment we decided to cut one small field on Tuesday and get the process down before going for it whole hog. We took Abby and Lightning out on the horse-drawn mower, selecting the smallest field, but coincidentally the steepest and least rectangular. They took it on like champs, despite several problems with the mower, and the sneaking suspicion that lots of sharp scissors are following right at one’s heels. James is out now tedding the field, we plan to rake, bale, pick-up and unload all TODAY. Hay wagon building has largely been a late night activity. If we seem a little shell-shocked at pick-up tonight, please be nice, it’s been a long day and week.
The vegetables are perking up and getting green out in the fields. Our current harvests however are still being hampered by the earlier mud season issues of poor germination and cloudy skies, followed by the really hot week which caused the soggy, stressed out plants to bolt. All this to say that we are starting to harvest a little bit of a lot of things. Great news on the variety front, but hard to divide up 40 ways. We’re getting creative though and offering up some fun stuff at the share tonight and as well as sweet things to nibble on while picking them up.
Three important things to know today:
1) We are having our spring farm tour and member dinner two weeks from tonight, on Thursday June 30th at 6pm. We’ll provide a farm-fresh dinner and solid wagon ride. You all bring the desserts, a place setting and drinks to share. Please rsvp by email or the list in the csa room. I’ve put in the rainbow request already, but they won’t guarantee a thing this far out.
2) We are officially rolling out the Full and By Farm “Go Whole Hog” challenge tonight!!! The rules are simple: fill out a card for your household, this will live at the farm. Check off the boxes after you’ve used each of the cuts on the list**. When your card is completed you will get a hand printed “Go Whole Hog” shirt or grocery bag. **And don’t worry, we’ll help you out with some of the more challenging ones.
3) Our last spring calf was born on Monday into a muddy puddle. It was a rough entry, but his long legs helped him out. We had originally named him Gus after the legendary Texas Ranger Augustus McCrae. But after getting to know him a little the name just doesn’t seem right, mostly due to his challenge with direction (i.e. his tendency to walk the opposite way when we move the cow herd). We’re considering Gonzo and Gulliver. Bring your vote tonight, write in’s are welcome.
In the veggie share: lettuce, lettuce, lettuce, spicy lettuce mix, braising mix, stir-fry add-ins, spring onions, spinach, nettles (by popular demand) potatoes, celeriac, black and white beans. coming soon: garlic scapes, baby turnips and radishes.
In the meat share: pork, chicken and ground beef, lard and leaf lard, lavender soap.
Rosslyn boathouse, January 8, 2012 (Photo credit: Glenn Estus)
It’s time for another Rosslyn Roundup to share everything Rosslyn-related that I didn’t get a chance to post over the last few weeks. Champlain Valleysprings are unpredictable and exciting, sometimes arriving early (this year) and other times hiding behind rain, rain, rain (last year).
We’ve been celebrating our good fortune (quietly, with fingers crossed, while chewing on garlic cloves) that Spring 2012 has been considerably drier than Spring 2011. Remember the devastating Lake Champlain floods last year? For the better part of two months we experienced history making high water levels which inundated the Town of Essex and swamped Rosslyn boathouse under three feet of water for weeks on end. But we were lucky. Damage was minimal, and we recovered. Actually… we’re still recovering. Rebuilding the stone walls along the waterfront is ongoing, but that story for another blog post!
It’s a bit hard to believe that I launched the Rosslyn Redux blog just over a year ago. I’ve been finding my feet, trying to decide what goes into the book, what goes into the performance and what goes into the blog. I’m still filtering through artifacts and unadopted stories, but the most everything has fallen into place. The book (books? booklings?) are nearing their inevitable (and looong awaited) right of passage. And the blog, evolving in fits and starts has nevertheless averaged almost one post per week. Expect that rate to increase now that I’m in the homestretch with manuscripts.
Okay, enough bellybutton gazing. Well, almost enough. A couple of other interesting items to relay before plunging into the Rosslyn Roundup.
May Day was the busiest day on the blog ever! In addition to “Reawakening Rosslyn” which drew record readers, there were many people who showed up a day late to read “Old Glory & Mud Season“. The combination of these two posts included a magic elixir… If only I knew what it was! Please don’t hesitate to share your preferences for future posts, and I’ll do my best to honor your wishes.
I have to admit that I was pretty thrilled with the reception that “Reawakening Rosslyn” received. You may have already figured that it’s a central theme in the story of our epic home and property rehabilitation.
Less surprising, my post about cartoonist Sid Couchey was also well received. Proof that whether we all admit it or not, we all love cartoons! And if you ever met my Essex friend and neighbor, you’d love Couchey too. He will remain a local legend for many years to come. I feel fortunate each time I pass Couchey’s painting of Rosslyn boathouse which hangs in our morning room. I’ve decided that the fellow chatting with Champy — the Lake Champlain monster — at the end of the boathouse pier is the cartoonist himself. I’m listening carefully and hoping to hear the joke that they’re sharing.
Okay, about that roundup… Did you see that spooky photograph of Rosslyn boathouse at the top of this post? Spectacular. Eerie. The image is called “Essex, NY Boathouse #3” and it was shot on January 8, 2012 by local photographer, Glenn Estus. We have several of his photographs hanging on the walls at Rosslyn, and you can see plenty more in his Flickr feed if your interested.
Speaking of photographs, check out the new Rosslyn Redux board on Pinterest to see a growing collection of Rosslyn photographs shared by people all over the globe. Add your own photos, and I’ll heap praise and accolades upon you.
And you’ll find more photographs by me and others on the Rosslyn Redux Facebook page which has grown steadily in membership over the last year. If you’re not already a friend of the forthcoming Rosslyn Redux memoir, now’s the time. Please friend the page and feel free to share your thoughts. I look forward to hearing from you.
There’s something stunning if slightly startling about spotting (or hearing the howl of) our ubiquitous Adirondack canid. Agile and attentive, swift and stealthy, this familiar predator is a familiar and important part of our ecosystem. And yet much mystery and misunderstanding collects around this handsome neighbor, not the least of which is disagreement over whether what you’ve seen (or heard) was a coyote or a coywolf. Today I’d like to gather some helpful insights about this debate while showcasing some of the most recent Rosslyn wildlife cam photos of the carnivore in question.
Coyote or Coywolf? (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
The term “coywolf” is increasingly used to distinguish between the Eastern Coyote (Canis latrans) and a regional hybrid ostensibly blending coyote, wolf, and domestic dog.
By now, most of us who spend much time outside in the Adirondack Park have seen some sort of large canid that looks too big to be a Coyote, not quite big enough to be a Wolf. Quite likely, many of us have seen what some wildlife observers are calling the CoyWolf. — John Davis, January 23, 2016 (Source: Welcoming the CoyWolf: Whoever It May Be, Essex on Lake Champlain)
This topic is debated among naturalists and armchair pundits, curiously provoking much more emotional investment and editorializing than other similar topics. So, needless to say, I don’t pretend this post will decide the matter once and for all. But it just might provoke your curiosity, inspiring you to research and a little more. And perhaps these recent photos (as well as previous coyote images we’ve recorded and published) will afford you some visual context for conjuring your own opinion about the coyote-coywolf neighbor maintaining balance in our our wildway.
Coyote or Coywolf? (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
Let’s start with the first two photographs above, captured last Sunday. The top image of an unclose and personal encounter with a healthy and undebatable handsome wild dog was photographed on one of the Rosslyn wildlife cams exactly 18 minutes prior to my arrival on cross-country skies with John and Denise to download the photos. In other words, almost enjoyed this face-to-face encounter in person rather than digital facsimile. And about three and a half hours later, while John, Denise, and I were wrapping up a tasty brunch indoors, this same coyote (or coywolf?) returned in the opposite direction, perhaps after a similarly tasty brunch.
Coyote or Coywolf? (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
Persecution and Evolution
Too often conversation about the coyote involves judging it a nuisance or a threat. And too often “controlling” and/or attempting to eradicate the perceived nuisance or threat is treated as reasonable and even ethical. Our opinion differs profoundly, and the Rosslyn wildlife sanctuary is in no small part an effort to protect and preserve an essential part of our ecosystem. (I will defer frequently in this post to John Davis, our rewilding steward, who is far better versed in the merits and circumstances of both the Eastern Coyote and the Coywolf.)
The Coyotes and CoyWolves we’re seeing in the Adirondacks and Vermont are being heavily persecuted, which may not much depress their numbers (Coyotes practice compensatory reproduction) but upsets their social dynamics, and causes untold individual suffering.
Please read “Friend of Foe: Eastern Coyote” for a more detailed look at precisely why killing these apex predators is wrong.
Coyote or Coywolf? (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
Now let’s examine the intriguing overlap of DNA that appears to be altering the native Eastern Coyote population, blending the bloodlines of three different canids.
We have in northern New York an illuminating experiment that we may do well to let play out. Coyotes have interbred with wolves, producing a bigger, more wolf-like eastern coyote, or coy-wolf, which is hunting in packs and occasionally taking down whitetailed deer…” — John Davis, November 1, 2016 (Source: “We Shouldn’t Hunt Moose“, Adirondack Council)
Coyotes and wolves have interbred. Not by whimsical accident or desire, but by necessity. But more on that in a moment. First a look at the first time I began to realize firsthand that the coyotes I was experiencing seemed different.
The coyote—or possibly “coywolf”—was easily as large as a malamute… and the head and tail were notably larger than other coyotes I’ve seen…
I have witnessed firsthand coyotes of significantly larger proportions. My first experience took place almost a decade ago while brush-hogging one of the rear meadows. The coyote—or possibly “coywolf”—was easily as large as a malamute and considerably more robust than the coyotes in these trail cam photos. Coloring was mottled grays and browns, and the head and tail were notably larger than other coyotes I’ve seen.
My second experience was more recent.
An almost black coyote/”coywolf” of still larger proportions was startled by me during an early morning orchard inspection. S/he loped away from me across the near meadow, slowly and confidently, gliding through the high grass with a confidence and elegance I’ve never before witnessed among coyotes. (Source: Coyotes Captured on Camera, May 10, 2017)
Coyote or Coywolf? (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
These sightings of larger canids, especially when the question of interbreeding with wolves enters the equation, alarm many homeowners and farmers.
Conversation about coyotes, coywolves, and most other apex predators inevitably incites worry among pet owners, farmers, and outdoor enthusiasts. Popular mythology has long touted the ferocity of our charismatic, carnivorous neighbors. While we are wise to respect their feral nature, wise to minimize risk to our domesticated animals, and prudent to ensure that we not take undue risks or provoke wild animals of any sort, it’s also important to balance our concerns with a scientifically sound understanding. It’s even more important to adapt and embrace cohabitation; our ecosystem will pay dividends and our own health and pleasure will benefit immeasurably. — Geo Davis, January 6, 2022 (Source: Friend or Foe: Eastern Coyote)
Coyote or Coywolf? (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
And this blurred barrier between coyotes and wolves becomes even more complex, and for some homeowners and farmers, even more threatening, when we consider the fact that our domestic dogs have also sometimes interbred with their wild cousins.
Our beloved dogs, of course, are in the same family as wolves, coyotes, and foxes. Indeed, domestic dogs, Canis familiaris, are closely enough related to both wolves and coyotes that interbreeding does occasionally happen, when a dog goes feral. Our big eastern coyotes can be nearly a third wolf in genetic material but also may have small vestiges of the domestic dog genome. — John Davis, December 15, 2022 (Source: “Dogs of the North Country”, Adirondack Council)
There’s plenty of interesting information if you’re interested in researching further, and the graphic, Eastern Coyote Genetics – What is a “Coywolf?” from the Wolf Conservation Center is a visually useful reminder for the evolutionary breakdown of the coywolf.
Let’s wrap up with a few helpful tidbits and links from John Davis that help illuminate the coy wolf’s fascinating evolution happening in our time and presence.
Coyote or Coywolf? (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
What is a Coywolf?
The CoyWolf is a skilled predator combining the wily nature of the Coyote with a healthy mixture of Eastern Wolf (resulting in more heft and power) and perhaps also a small amount of our beloved domestic dog (resulting in more nerve around humans). Recent genetic testing suggests that these hybrid canids are probably on average something like two-thirds Coyote, nearly one-third Wolf, and a small fraction domestic dog. — John Davis, January 23, 2016 (Source: Welcoming the CoyWolf: Whoever It May Be, Essex on Lake Champlain)
Coyote or Coywolf? (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
From Whence the Coywolf?
How the CoyWolf emerged is a long, fascinating, and somewhat mysterious story. To greatly oversimplify, eastern North America originally had two or three Wolf species, at least one of which (now known as Red Wolf and surviving in tiny, imperiled numbers in coastal North Carolina) was closely related genetically to the Coyote. When European settlers eradicated our large Wolf species, they left a void that Coyotes moved in from the west to fill.
As Coyotes colonized eastern North America, they occasionally interbred with remnant Wolf populations in eastern Canada, and then moved south into the northeastern US. Coyotes in the US Southeast apparently came by a more southerly route (and were released by hunters, some accounts suggest) and did not interbreed with the larger Wolves (but do so now with Red Wolves), so are generally not as big as our northern Coyotes. — John Davis, January 23, 2016 (Source: Welcoming the CoyWolf: Whoever It May Be, Essex on Lake Champlain)
Coyote or Coywolf or Gray Fox? (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
How to Respect the Coywolf?
In my opinion, informed by thousands of miles of rambling Eastern forests and listening to and reading the words of naturalists and biologists, it is time to recognize this charismatic canid. Specifically we should:
welcome the CoyWolf,
consider the CoyWolf a native top predator,
and protect the CoyWolf as an integral part of healthy ecosystems.
The CoyWolf may be partly a consequence of human modifications of natural systems, but its emergence offers glorious evidence that evolution still works, even in our fragmented world. The Coyote and the CoyWolf are important regulators of prey populations which otherwise might grow out of balance with harmful results for natural and human communities. Plus, these big wild dogs are beautiful creatures, worthy of our respect and admiration. — John Davis, January 23, 2016 (Source: Welcoming the CoyWolf: Whoever It May Be, Essex on Lake Champlain)
Coyote or Coywolf or Gray Fox? (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
This winter Rosslyn’s trail camera silently monitoring a fence opening (along the margin of a woods-fields transition) recorded our second most frequent nocturnal visitor, the Eastern Coyote. The images in this post, captured this past January (2017), might even offer a glimpse at the animal frequently referred to as a “coywolf”.
[pullquote]The coyote—or possibly “coywolf”—was easily as large as a malamute… and the head and tail were notably larger than other coyotes I’ve seen.[/pullquote]Although none of these photographs portray exceptionally large canids, on several occasions I have witnessed firsthand coyotes of significantly larger proportions. My first experience took place almost a decade ago while brush-hogging one of the rear meadows. The coyote—or possibly “coywolf”—was easily as large as a malamute and considerably more robust than the coyotes in these trail cam photos. Coloring was mottled grays and browns, and the head and tail were notably larger than other coyotes I’ve seen.
My second experience was more recent.
An almost black coyote/”coywolf” of still larger proportions was startled by me during an early morning orchard inspection. S/he loped away from me across the near meadow, slowly and confidently, gliding through the high grass with a confidence and elegance I’ve never before witnessed among coyotes.
Spectacular!
Coyote Captured on Camera, January 2017 (Source: Trail Camera Photo by Geo Davis)
If you’re interested in learning more about coyotes and/or “coywolves” in the Adirondacks, I recommend friend and neighbor John Davis’s post on our Essex community blog, “Welcoming the Coywolf.”
I will share additional game/trail camera photos of Rosslyn’s native wildlife (including Bobcat) in the near future. Stay tuned!
Tito Ingenieri’s Bottle House (Source: The Telegraph )
Having invested so much life into Rosslyn, I often find myself wondering about other epic house projects, house design and rehab adventures that eclipse the normal homeowner/home balance.
Let me introduce Tito Ingenieri. This creative Argentinian built a beer bottle house out of six million empty glass beer bottles. He will gladly teach anyone how to build this kind of ecological house that simultaneously salvages and recycles materials while keeping the streets clean. In his town of Quilmes, Argentina, neighbors gladly give him their empty bottles and admire his artistic creation.
Update
Sadly the original video I featured in this post has vanished (old link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIx6f1DrQIo) from the ever mysterious internets. So, I’ve gathered a few alternatives to sate your curiosity.
Beer Bottle Buildings : Tito Ingenieri “For this ginormous house, Tito Ingenieri collected bottles from streets and neighbors. Aside from the obvious reason for letting that jaw of yours drop, I’ve left the best feature for last: the bottles whistle whenever the southern winds blow, signaling that the river is rising. Tito Ingenieri thought of everything.” (Source: Trend Hunter)
La Casa de Botellas “La Fortaleza” “Except for the concrete mortar, all of the materials used in his constructions are recycled. This includes not only glass bottles of all sizes, shapes, and colors, but also found objects of metal, ceramics, stone, and more…” (Source: Spaces)
This ‘Fortress of Glass’ is Made of Six Million Glass Bottles “‘The truth is, I owe so much to the public because thanks to them, who drank so much alcohol and threw everything out, I was able to make a house,’ says homeowner, artist Tito Ingenieri, who spent the last 20 years building the walls—some as high as 30 feet—of his recycled home. ‘It’s paradise for me. It’s like living in another dimension.’” (Source: Curbed)
In honor of Gaston Bachelard, I’d like to subtly bastardize the sentiment:
I should say: Rosslyn shelters day-dreaming, Rosslyn protects the dreamers, and Rosslyn allows us to dream in peace.
It’s not always 100% evident to me. When a foundation leak graces us with a basement flood. Or Lake Champlain spills out of her banks and into our boathouse. Nor when a 100+ year old maple tree succumbs to blasting winds and smashes the handmade fence. Etc.
But on afternoons like today, the smallest things, like the way the morning light illuminates the carriage barn windows, I know. I understand that this wonderful old, living and breathing home provides for us in innumerable ways every day. I know that Rosslyn is a house of dreams and daydreamers. And for this I am extremely grateful.
Thank you, Keri and Gaston for the timely reminder!
Adirondack autumn is sliding stealthily into winter. I’d better accelerate my fall iPhonography retrospective so that I’m ready to chronicle Rosslyn’s soon-to-be-snowy winter. In order to fast track the process, I’ll [almost] skip the textual annotations that I included in Adirondack Autumn 2012: Part I and Adirondack Autumn 2012: Part II.
The video slide show above is story enough, I think, but there are a few images that beg explanation. There are several photos related to boating because me bride and I stretch the season as much as “comfortably” possible in the autumn. In fact, we stretch the whole season, starting early and ending late. Most years we are able to enjoy a six month sailing, windsurfing, waterskiing, wakesurfing season starting at the beginning of May and ending in the final days of October. So these images are a watersports swansong of sorts.
A more rigorous editor would have eliminated the “live simply” snapshot, but I love this t-shirt given to me by my sister-in-law. Sure, the graphic’s great, but it’s the reminder that I value each time I come across it on my t-shirt shelf. I’m hoping to play with the idea in a cartoon soon, a sequence of the simple pleasures of rural Adirondack living with the slightly ironic banner, “Live simply!” Stay tuned…
Veteran RR readers will know that the squirrels occupy a dramatic place in our Rosslyn lifestyle, so I won’t get into that here, but those images capture the quirks and charms of our “Adirondack monkeys”. Squirrel-proof birdfeeders? We’ve tried five varieties so far, but the squirrels always succeed. And the squirrel perched on the edge of the stone water trough? Just try to convince me he’s not peeing in the drinking water!
I included my ever growing collection of gardening books because I was reminded again this fall that gardening occupies my imagination even as the gardening season is ending. One might expect their enthusiasm for planting and weeding and landscaping and harvesting to flag after many months of spring-summer-fall gardening. But instead, my mind turns to next season. Adirondack autumn means fall planting. Maintenance. Changes. It’s been a busy fall for Rosslyn landscaping and gardening projects, but I’ll postpone these updates until later. And once the snow begins to fall I pull out the books again and begin to sketch plans for next spring, make lists and schedules, order seeds for indoor forcing,… By late winter when my seedlings are well underway in our basement under lamps, I’ll begin pruning fruit trees. In short, even in the Adirondacks gardening is a year round passion.
The shots of tempting chalkboard menus come from the Essex Ice Cream Cafe which for the first time (ever?) is open year-round for breakfast and lunch. And, soon, they’ll be launching a turn-back-the-clock delicacy that not only tastes sensational, but carries some personal satisfaction as well. More on that once the secret is no longer a secret and the most delicious maple-derived confection in the world is available again, more than a century after it was first produced in Essex. Okay, I’m teasing you. Details soon!
Perfect transition to that odd photo at about 1:02 in the slide show. What’s that?!?! Dog food, perhaps? Actually that was a memorable venison stew with spinach. Deer hunting is an important part of North Country culture and though I do not partake (I’m a poor gunner, and I find it difficult to shoot anything that can bat an eyelash at me,) I love venison. Several generous friends share with me each fall, and this stew was the best I’ve ever made. Lots of onions and wine get cooked down with the venison, and lentils and wild rice are added toward then end. The spinach was a last minute stir-in. So, it’s a feast for the belly, not the eyes.
The next picture, a step closer to eye candy, is broiled cabbage. Sounds unpromising. Try it. Delicious. I’ve made it several times, and it I can manage, I’ll share the ultra simple recipe soon. Even non-cabbage stalwarts love it!
I think that everything is self-explanatory. If not, let me know. Thanks for sharing our Adirondack autumn.
Almost orderly rows of zinnias, eggplants and tomatoes.
Deep purple (almost black) eggplant enjoying the shade.
I skipped the hot peppers this season and focused on several varieties of sweet peppers.
These slender, curving Asian eggplants are beautiful and delicious on the grill or in stews.
The foliage on the Brussels sprout plants looks like lace. Full of holes!
We’re enjoying a heavy melon crop including cantaloupe, musk melon and watermelon.
We overproduced artichokes last season, but this season’s been disappointing. Still no chokes!
Gangbuster cuke season! They’re getting too big too fast…
It’s been getting considerably cooler at night lately, and feeling fall-like much earlier than the last few years. We’ve already had two nights that broke forty degrees! But still no killing frost.
The vegetable garden is still thick with produce. We’ve been eating cantaloupes and musk melons just as quickly as we can. The same goes for eggplant and tomatoes. We’ve lost the battle with cucumbers which are getting so big they’re almost obscene. I have to apologize before giving them away as a gifts lest I offend someone with tender sensibilities. Fortunately they still taste good. The key is to slice them the long way and scoop out all of the seeds the same way you do with melons.
Several varieties of tomatoes have succumbed to blights. Fortunately the affliction hasn’t really damaged many tomatoes themselves, just the plants. It seems to primarily be an issue with the determinate varieties. 75% of the indeterminate plants are still growing like gangbusters, pumping out large, delicious heirloom tomatoes.
The zucchini seem to have gone dormant, although they’re still producing lots of blossoms. I would love to cook up some squash blossoms before the season ends, but haven’t managed to do it yet.
Lots and lots of sweet peppers too. And a full crop of green beans, spinach, lettuce, Swiss chard, and baby kale coming online soon. I grew a small quantity of beets with the intention of harvesting their “greens” (actually, their deep purple/red). We ate about half of the crop in our salads this summer, but at this point many of them have grown into full grown beets. So we’ll end up harvesting those as well this fall.
What else? The Brussels sprouts are just beginning to set, so I need to snap off most of the foliage to concentrate their energy into sprouts. We pulled up all the corn stocks and composted them. The leaks will be ready to start harvesting in about a month, and only the artichokes have failed to produce. After last summer’s bumper crop, it’s a mystery. Half of the plants succumbed to root rot during the rainy month of June. And the half dozen plants that lived are runty and unproductive. To date none have set even the smallest of chokes. Not giving up yet though…
Early Autumn? The weather Channel tells the story…
Autumn appears to be coming early this year. For at least a week nights have been dropping into the chilly 50s. And this morning I see that temperatures slid even lower.
Perhaps this is normal? Yet it doesn’t seem normal. The 40s in mid August? In Essex, New York? On the shores of Lake Champlain which usually acts as a “heat sink” effectively extending our warm season?
Early Autumn’s Reminder
Early Autumn? The thermometer outside my bedroom verifies the chilly story…
Whether or not early autumn is here to stay, it’s serving as a reminder. Get out and enjoy the temperate weather before it’s gone. Today and tomorrow promise to be sunny and warm, perfect days for cycling and hiking and gardening. Perhaps even windsurfing? Or wake surfing? Hopefully one or the other!
And there’s another goal I’ve set but neglected for several years. I’d like to make a habit of working in the boathouse for a few hours away from my study, my desk, my piles and files. No better time than the present. No better motivator than a crisp, early autumn morning when I can faintly see my breath in the sir as Griffin sniffs around the yard. Soon it will be too cold to work in the boathouse. Soon…
Anticipating Autumn
Of course, early autumn whispers aren’t all “Caution!” and “Carpe diem…” After all, Adirondack autumns might well be the finest time of the year. The harvest reaches its peak. The hiking and biking are unquestionably superior to all other times of the year. Photography. Sunsets. Sailing. Fly fishing. Fall foliage. The day the ginkgo leaves shower down…
In short, August’s recent summer lullaby marks both a bittersweet ending and a joyful beginning. It’s a time to savor summer’s delicacies and anticipate autumn adventures ahead. I think I’ll call a chum and bum a sail!
