This morning came early. Really, *REALLY* early. Yesterday was one of those days when damn near everything that could go wrong did go wrong. It was so hyperbolic that if it were a movie, nobody would have believed it. So by 5:38 o’clock this morning I’d been awake for a couple of hours. And I was rewarded with this disturbing (because of the Canadian wildfires) but spectacular smoky sunrise over Lake Champlain.
Smoky Sunrise Over Lake Champlain (Photo: Geo Davis)
That photograph above captures most of the drama, but the burning orb ascending from Vermont’s Green Mountains was actually an even crazier color of fluorescent orangey pink. Surreal. And big. And super bright. The entire Champlain Valley was thick with mustard grey-brown haze. Yes, these smoky skies are courtesy of the hundreds of Canadian wildfires burning out of control. And, no, the uncanny twist of fate — we fled Santa Fe a year ago to escape the sooty pollution of out-of-control wildfires only yo be inunda with the same now in Essex, New York — isn’t lost on us. Crazy times.
And yet, the upside of our Adirondack Coast choking on alarming high particulate counts for our typically pristine air is the sunrises and sunsets. They’ve been otherworldly.
Smoky Sunrise Over Lake Champlain (Photo: Geo Davis)
As this morning’s smoky sunrise yielded to the smoke, our environs looked as if a huge storm were overtaking us. But no, in the second photo above, you can see no storm. Just the long lingering aftermath of burning forests.
Today quickly shifted into unseasonably humid and scorching conditions which was challenging for everyone working on the icehouse rehab, but the smoke lifted, and this afternoon’s air quality is considerably improved.
It’s time for a follow-up to my Organic Orcharding post, specifically a detailed look at how to use Tanglefoot for non-toxic pest control in a holistic fruit tree orchard. For readers wondering about zone compatibility and looking for a regional reference to help you evaluate the relevance of this post to your individual growing conditions, our orchard is located in Essex, New York along the Adirondack Coast of the Champlain Valley. We are purists when it comes to holistic orcharding and gardening (despite challenges unique to growing fruits and vegetables in the North Country) and we have come to rely on Tanglefoot summer after summer. (You may also want to check out my post, “How to Apply Tanglefoot to Trees“ for a simple, straightforward how-to video. Your holistic orchard will thank you in abundance!)
Pre-Goo & Post-Goo
Here’s a glimpse at the first two phases of Tanglefoot installation, documented in Rosslyn’s 100% organic orchard. This first photo was taken just before the sticky goo was lathered onto the corrugated paper.
Tanglefoot Installation: wrap trunk with corrugated paper (Source: Geo Davis)
So tidy, right? Not for long! Here’s what it looks like after the sticky Tanglefoot is installed.
Tanglefoot Installation: lather ultra gooey Tanglefoot on the corrugated paper wrapped around tree trunk. (Source: Geo Davis)
Yuck! Hopefully the noisome critters that like to climb up the trunks of fruit trees agree.
It’s a messy installation process, but it seems to work pretty well.
How to Use Tanglefoot
I’ll prologue the most important part of this post by saying two things:
Applying Tanglefoot to fruit trees a messy but relatively straightforward task.
Better instructors have already explained application, so I’ll defer to their able guidance rather than overlook something important.
One of the best step-by-step Tanglefoot installation videos was made by San Diego master gardeners Carol Graham (unfortunately no longer available online). Similarly thorough written instructions are provided by the products’s manufacturer, Contech-Inc:
We recommend using 4” wide wrap of waterproof paper or tape on the trunk of the tree and applying Tree Tanglefoot over the wrap. Tree Tanglefoot is oil-based and the oils will soak into the bark. Banding material eliminates staining of the tree and offers quick, complete removal of the sticky material. In addition, Tree Tanglefoot will remain sticky longer when applied on top of a surface resistant to oil. For rough bark trees it may be necessary to plug the gaps between the tree trunk and the banding, this can be done by using insulation or other materials.
Apply Tree Tanglefoot Insect barrier in a uniform fashion. It can be applied in a heavy or light coat. Heavy coats are approximately 3” wide and 3/32” thick. A heavy coat is used when the insects to kept from the tree foliage are large or numerous, or when there is little time available to maintain the band. Light coats are 3” wide and 1/16” thick. A light coat is good as a general barrier against smaller or less numerous insects, or when the band can be maintained regularly.
Generally, Tree Tanglefoot will remain sticky and effective until it is covered with insects, dust or other debris. A build-up of debris or insects will create a bridge for other insect to cross. This debris requires removal and possible re-application in spots. If an area is unusually dusty or the surface of the barrier is stiffened, Tree Tanglefoot can be rubbed around to expose a new sticky layer beneath. Remove bands at end of season. (Source: Tree Tanglefoot Insect Barrier Products – Contech Inc)
Still a little uncertain? (Or just procrastinating to avoid making a gooey-sticky mess?) Here’s another resource I’ve also relied upon for amazing step-by-step Tanglefoot guide with photographs. Here are the simple, straightforward instructions.
Using a putty knife or a cake decorating spatula. If you choose a putty knife be very careful with the edges and corners as they are very sharp and can easily damage the bark of the tree. I recommend using a cake decorating spatula because they have rounded edges at the tip.
1. Wrap your tree in plastic film
2. Soften up a glob of Tanglefoot with the spatula
3. Work it into a smooth lump without strings back to the bucket
4. Apply the product in a thin 1″ wide band a few inches from the top of the plastic all the way around the tree creating a complete circle
5. Drag your spatula in the same direction that you wrapped the tree with the plastic. If you go the other way you’ll just pull the plastic right off
6.Make another band of Tanglefoot a few inches down from the first band. This creates 2 barriers that work together to stop the pests from walking up your tree (Source: How to Use Tanglefoot – Backyard Food Growing)
I use the paper “tape” version and have not yet tried the plastic film, but I’m intrigued. However this post made me wary.
I got some Tanglefoot this year for my apple trees, had a lot of problems with ants last year. I tried attaching bands of saran wrap around the tree trunks and applying the Tanglefoot that way. That was a complete disaster/mess, so I called the Tanglefoot manufacturer and asked if it would harm my trees to apply their product directly to the bark. They said that other than a dark ring/stain around the tree, no, it should not harm the tree at all to be directly applied. So, that is what I did. Did it about a month ago. No signs of any tree trouble yet. (Source: Putting tanglefoot on trees directly – GardenWeb)
I decided to ask the author, Stacy, the about plastic wrap vs. paper banding.
Great post, and the photo play-by-play is the best resource I’ve found online! Thank you. This is my first foray into fruit tree pest tangling (wrangling?), and I’m curious about your preference for plastic wrap instead of the paper/cardboard option proposed by the manufacturer. I’m guessing you’ve tried both and decided that the plastic wrap works better? Would you be willing to explain the pros and cons of plastic instead of paper? Hoping to get this right the first time! Thanks.
Stacy answered my question the very same day (Wow! Thanks, Stacy.) as follows:
Thank you! I’m happy the pictures are helpful for you. You’ll do just fine, the hardest part is keeping it off of yourself and your clothes! I have a few reasons for the plastic.
The method that I show here (with the two stripes/plastic/cotton balls) was the way I was taught during my first experience with Tanglefoot, I didn’t even know about the cardboard at that point. It wasn’t until I started working in a retail nursery a few years later that I found out about the cardboard wrap.
I think the cardboard wrap could be good if your tree is perfectly smooth, as it leaves gaps that the bugs can walk under unobstructed. It might work ok if you put cotton balls under it and secure it tightly to close those gaps though.
Also, I don’t choose the cardboard because I live in a very rainy climate and the cardboard would disintegrate in no time at all. If your area is less rainy then it would probably be ok. I prefer the plastic too because it holds tight to the bark and stays put for the month or two that it’s on there.
I’ve just continued to use the plastic/cotton balls method because it was simple and used items I already had at home, there wasn’t an additional product that I needed to buy.
It’s just important to get the plastic off when the season is done or when the Tanglefoot becomes ineffective, the plastic allows no airflow for the bark. This would be a benefit to using the cardboard. (Source: backyardfoodgrowing.com)
Thanks again, Stacy.
Needless to say, I still haven’t tried the plastic film. Three years of installation with paper wraps, and the approach seems to be working. So, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it!
It’s Tanglefoot time again. Actually, we’re late — really late! — due to this rainy, soggy summer. But better late than never, especially since I’ve begun to spy the first tent caterpillars of the 2017 season.
First a quick refresher. A little over a year ago I explained how to use Tanglefoot and I explained why holistic orcharding benefits from this goopy ritual.
It’s a messy installation process, but it seems to work pretty well… Applying Tanglefoot to fruit trees a messy but relatively straightforward task. Better instructors have already explained application, so I’ll defer to their able guidance rather than overlook something important. (Source: How to Use Tanglefoot (And Why Fruit Trees Need It))
That post includes the excellent advice of “better instructors”, but I wanted to follow up with a quick visual instructional to show you how to apply Tanglefoot. Consider it a supplement. Quick tips.
How to Apply Tanglefoot (Source: Geo Davis)
How to Apply Tanglefoot
In the previous post I discuss using plastic film to wrap the tree trunk, but four years into our Tanglefoot adventure, we’re still using paper/cardboard wraps like in the photo above. It’s simple, quick, biodegradable, and it seems to work perfectly. And it’s a little less plastic to use and put into a landfill!
After securing the cardboard wrap with a piece of hemp twine, the only challenge is to sear Tanglefoot around the circumference of the tree without getting it all over your hands…
Following is a quick video / slide show intended for orchardists, fruit tree hobbyists, or basically anybody who wants quick and easy instruction for how to apply Tanglefoot on young (i.e. slender trunk) trees. Many thanks to Jacob for letting me photograph his hands during installation.
I hope you find the video helpful. We’ve been extremely satisfied with the results year-after-year, and we’re happy to recommend Tanglefoot (and confident in our recommendation) for other fruit tree growers. And if you’re looking for a little broader perspective on why we use and recommend this somewhat unconventional pest prevention solution in our organic orchard, definitely check out my post, “How to Use Tanglefoot (And Why Fruit Trees Need It)“. I’m confident you’ll be pleased with the results. Good luck!
High on my Adirondack Coast lifestyle list — my mental “Aren’t we lucky to live here?!?!” database of people, perks, and activities that add incalculable value to my existence — is bicycling backroads and byways from the shores of Lake Champlain to the Adirondack High Peaks. Sometimes solitary, sometimes accompanied by a friend, these pedal-power adventures through the Boquet Valley and rolling foothills, are like mini vacations, adventures concurrently familiar and exotic. From adrenaline pumping thrills to mellow meanders, shaded forests to bucolic farmland, breezy lakeside routes to stream and river crossings, the diversity of conditions, terrain, and landscape is captivating.
Often something catches my eye, and I stop to observe. An industrious beaver engineering a dam. A bald eagle breakfasting on a landlocked salmon. A team of draft horses pulling a blue shirted, straw hatted farmer through rows of crops, leaving a wake of disinterred weeds. A pair of young women, braids bouncing, executing a perfect jibe in stiff winds on Whallons Bay…
The bovine beauties above, photographed on July 22, 2021 (but visited frequently during my summer bicycle rides), are a poem unwritten. These gentle ruminants are a pair of wordless couplets, perhaps a hay chewing haiku, or a black and white ode to a sylvan sea. I suspect that, for each of us, the meter and matter of these roadside verses differ. We arrive at a moment like this with our own distinct experiential lens that distills our perception, that provokes our feelings, and that underpins our aesthetics. Each of us possesses a totally unique way of seeing. Sui generis. As distinct as our fingerprints. As our irises.
In the image below — the same photograph as above, albeit with color removed — the poetry is transformed. Same subject. Same context, background, composition, and framing. But the tone is not the same. The mood and the focus have shifted. Textures and tonal contrasts have replaced the richness and depth and vibrancy of color. The stark black and white figures in the middle no longer pop against a wide spectrum of greens and blues. They’re in harmony with the near infinite shades of grey that envelope them. The clouds have emerged from the chorus to deliver a spellbinding aria.
Bovine Beauties (Photo: Geo Davis)
Are you scratching your head and rolling your eyes? “Stick with cows in a field beneath overcast skies, please.” I understand the urge. There’s a comfortable ease in assuming that we’re all appreciating the same thing when we look at the photo, in allowing nuance to fall outside our frame of reference. Comfortable. Easy. But potentially misleading. Rosslyn reminds me time and again that reality isn’t as comfortable or easy. She has invited me, encouraged me, supported me in seeing that no matter how universal or congruent our perceptions, our ways of seeing are subtly (and often not so subtly) dissimilar.
One person’s bovine beauties might be another person’s dairy bar. Or they might be unnoticed altogether, just another blur on the periphery. A metaphorical garnish.
Rendering for Icehouse Rehabilitation: East Elevation Gable Window (Source: Tiho Dimitrov)
I mentioned recently that framing for the expansive gable window in the west elevation of Rosslyn’s icehouse was completed, and the change was monumental. Now we’re on hold, anticipating the big reveal in a few months when the new windows arrive and the sheathing can be trimmed. For now that facade is concealed behind a plane of green ZIP paneling, effectively shrouding the dramatic transformation until springtime. Anticipation, I tell my dog, is have the pleasure…
Today, however, I’m able to update you on Hroth‘s gable window framing for the *east elevation*. Hurrah! As you can see in Tiho‘s rendering above, the openings on the lake-facing facade will remain virtually unchanged except for a shift from opaque (solid wood openings) to transparent (glass window and door). But the the east elevation gable window will be integrated into a whimsical Essex sunburst motif that echoes the same detail on the third story, west elevation gable end of the main house. I will focus on this detail separately once we’ve made a little more progress.
In short, we’ve endeavored to maintain the public view shed much as it has appeared in recent decades albeit with a reimagined sunburst embellishment that weaves the icehouse together with the main house, the gates, and multiple additional sunburst motifs throughout Essex and the Champlain Valley.
Envisioning the icehouse rehab from within, the photo below helps orient the new window as it will be experienced from the loft (still not framed) and, to a lesser degree, the main room. Morning light will illuminate the interior, offering a restrained prelude to the magnificent afternoon lighting that will bath the icehouse as the sun sets into the Adirondack foothills.
Icehouse Interior, East elevation gable window (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
The closeup below captures Hroth at the end of a long day of carriage barn carpentry looking a more than a little bit ready for some heat and a more comfortable perch. But it also captures the just completed window framing below the header, perfectly echoing the slope of the icehouse roof.
Another closeup, gets a little closer to imagining the perspective when standing on the future loft floor.
Icehouse Interior, East elevation gable window (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
Framing East Gable Window
Shortly this aperture will be concealed behind insulated paneling much like the west elevation, but for a fleeting moment longer we can appreciate the natural light entering through the east elevation gable window framing, and we can try to imagine the daybreak view of Lake Champlain, warm sunlight illuminating the north elevation of the main house as it rises up into the summer sky.
A new perspective is emerging as Hroth frames my future office window (from the icehouse loft). Looking east (actually southeast in this photo), this will be my morning view. Panning to the left 10 to 15° the view will be filtered through the enormous American Linden (basswood) tree and across the upper lawn, through the ancient ginkgo tree and across the front lawn to Lake Champlain. (Source: Loft Office View)
Holes in walls. Such rudimentary changes to a building envelope. And yet such profound transformation!
By strategically introducing apertures and maximizing transparency in this small structure we’re endeavoring to dilate the living experience beyond the finite building envelope, to challenge the confines of walls and roof, and when possible and esthetically judicious, to improve porosity with abundant new fenestration, dynamic interior-exterior interplay, subtle but impactful landscaping changes (including a new deck) that will work in concert to amplify the breathability of the interior and temptingly invite insiders outside. (Source: Gable End Window in West Elevation)
The photo below hints at the future porosity of the this space. Imagine the window near bottom right once it is glass.
Icehouse Interior, East elevation gable window (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
Of course, framing in the balcony and eventually adding blisters will shift add interesting layers, shadows, textures, and other nuances to the transparency looking east from within. Perhaps an interior rendering or two will help imagine forward…
Rosslyn boathouse during Adirondack mud season (Source: Geo Davis)
I recently returned to Rosslyn after almost two months away. It was my single longest absence since buying the house in July 2006, and the extended hiatus was a bit surreal. I departed Essex in February and returned in April!
For readers familiar with life in the Adirondacks, you’ll remember that we have the distinction of a fifth season in addition to spring, summer, fall and winter affectionately known as “mud season”. Okay, not so affectionately. Mud season — tied with black flies for least sexy North Country inconveniences — is tolerable for two reasons:
Sugaring: Authentic maple syrup is an Adirondack staple. Remember the smell and flavor of real maple syrup, before corn syrup and artificial flavoring and coloring elbowed their way onto the breakfast table? Sugaring is as much a gourmet delicacy as it is a theme of story lore. Extracting maple sap and concentrating it into syrup or sugar wasn’t just a local sweet source before grocers and box stores. According to Bill Yardley, sugaring provided an occupation for lumberjacks during mud season.
Transformation: Like a rite of passage, the Adirondack mud season is sometimes dreaded, usually messy, often cathartic and almost always revitalizing. Tucked between winter and summer, two of the most glorious North Country seasons (the other two are spring and fall,) mud season is our annual reminder that we aren’t living in paradise, just a near-perfect facsimile of paradise.
This year I was traveling during mud season (not altogether a coincidence, I admit) which meant that I missed almost the only snowfall that the Champlain Valley experienced this winter. The silver lining? I also missed the slush and mud that followed.
Maple Syrup (Source: Wikipedia)
But despite my absence, life at Rosslyn sailed on smoothly. By now you may have realized that my bride runs a tight ship, possibly even more so when I’m away from home. And with Doug and Lorri contributing muscle and follow-through to my bride’s decrees, not much slips between the cracks. Except for the tattered flag…
Upon returning from my travels I discovered that a concerned passerby had stopped to complain about the tattered American flag flapping over Rosslyn boathouse. He spoke with Doug, referenced his years of military service and departed. By all accounts, the passerby was courteous and respectful, and his concern was justified. Old Glory was in a sorry state of neglect.
Doug promptly replaced the tattered flag and assumed that the case was closed.
It wasn’t.
A few days later the same gentleman returned and expressed his gratitude. And then he departed. No name. No way to thank him for his attention. A mysterious stranger with a patriotic soul and a neighborly spirit.
Autumn Landscape, October 27, 2015 (Photo: Geo Davis)
TGIF… time to put another log on the fire, pour yourself something refreshing, and unwind for a moment together. Busy-ness and a continuous cascade of commitments can gradually hypnotize us during the weekly hurly-burly, so let’s take a few minutes to exhale and redirect our attention at this dramatic time of year. Transformation all around us. Breathtaking beauty all around us. I invite you to round out your week by contemplating the autumn landscape.
As another week of icehouse rehab draws to a close, I’m shifted gears a little. I’ll post an update soon, however there’ve been several compelling-but-competing intrigues to pursue. Yesterday’s post about rehoming the “truckling” in exchange for an inspiring reuse/recycling story has elicited several compelling possibilities. (Hoping to make a decision soon, and I’ll share the winning story!) I’ve also been crowdsourcing (albeit quite limitedly among friends and family) perspectives on what makes a house a home. Can’t wait to share the riches tomorrow! For now, with this pair of jolly Jack-in-the-box updates about to spring out into the open, I’m recalibrating and refocusing on autumn landscape.
Autumn Streamscape
As wildlife crisscross
these riparian byways
scents, tracks, graffiti.
— Geo Davis
This haiku takes as its seed the layered narrative along Library Brook which meanders the western margin of Rosslyn’s back forests and fields. So much wildlife trafficking this vital corridor, and all of them communicating, carrying on a distributed dialogue, and creating artistic artifacts.
I spent some time flail mowing near a small portion of this riparian region last summer, eliminating some invasive that have clogged the stream, and encouraging native flora to thrive, ensuring a healthy habitat for our wild neighbors. I thought that I had taken photographs of a mesmerizingly beautiful glade thick with stream-side wildflowers, but I’m unable to find them. Perhaps these images were meant to remain wild, earned quietly on foot, cross country skies, snowshoes.
These contemplative places abound at Rosslyn. And my haiku doesn’t offer a sufficient snapshot. Perhaps I’ll be able to update this page with another poem that offers the scents and sounds of this this wild autumn landscape. For now I’d like to offer you a potent portrait by a Vietnamese poet, Hồ Xuân Hương (1772–1822), that hints at the intoxication I’m alluding to. If “the banana leaves” are overlooked, her poem feels as if it might be leaning against a stump beside burbling Library Brook.
Autumn Landscape
Drop by drop rain slaps the banana leaves.
Praise whoever sketched this desolate scene:
the lush, dark canopies of the gnarled trees,
the long river, sliding smooth and white.
I lift my wine flask, drunk with rivers and hills.
My backpack, breathing moonlight, sags with poems.
Look, and love everyone.
Whoever sees this landscape is stunned.
— Hồ Xuân Hương (Source: Narrative Magazine)
Let us all breathe some moonlight tonight, and let us all let go the of the week just lived and look at the autumn landscape, allow it to stun us, to remind us how to love. Everyone.
Another Rosslyn boathouse sighting, this time discovered via Google Earth. The photo was taken by czechsteve on Panoramio.com on 2005/08/12 which is approximately one year before my wife and I purchased Rosslyn. The wooden Chris Craft on a mooring between our boathouse and the Essex ferry dock belonged to our neighbor, but he has since replaced it with a sailboat which is visible in more recent photographs.
If you go click through to the original photo and enlarge it, you can see the degree of disrepair that we inherited when we took ownership and began restoring this stately old maritime structure.
I have contacted the photographer to suggest a title because the image is currently untitled.
Update: Today is Wednesday, February 2, 2011 and I’ve just heard from the photographer:
I have added a title to your boathouse picture. Thanks for your input – I have seen that boathouse for many years (I’ve been coming for summers in the Adirondacks since I was a teenage student at the Meadowmount School of Music coming from Texas to study violin.)
Was the boathouse there in 1980? I don’t remember when I first saw it from the ferry crossing but I have always enjoyed seeing it – that is why I took the photo years ago…I can’t wait to see what you have done…
All best wishes! Steven Rochen – a.k.a. czechsteve!
Wonderful response. I’m excited to have made the connection, and I’m hoping that I may one day have the chance to meet Steven Rochen and give him a tour of the boathouse which has intrigued him for decades.
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.
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.
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.
