Independence

Back patio at the Firehouse

It's been two weeks since we closed on the firehouse and we are making a great deal of progress. Sometimes it is hard for us to see it (knee deep in the pure toil of it all) but it is happening. The building itself has soul and loads of character. It is not perfect (much like ourselves) but it feels right and we hope that everyone will love it as much as we do. After a thorough cleaning and numerous coats of paint and stain, the interior is taking shape and it will soon be filled with art, tables and chairs. The exterior has a fresh coat of red paint and is ready for the new awning and fence around the front patio. The old front door, which we don't have the heart to replace, was given a coat of poly in the hopes that it will hang on just a little longer.

Last night, as I was popping in a few more plants in the back patio area, I felt at peace. Our daughter was there with me chatting about hot peppers and chocolate mint and "what the heck is okra, mom?" and I realized that everything we have done at the firehouse so far has been rooted in love--by good people and our own sweat equity. And that is deeply satisfying. An old friend stopped in the other day and said "you look lighter." Compared to the last time I saw her last summer … yes. I am feeling the levity, no question. Never mind the bags under my eyes and unkempt hair (that's what hats are for).

Paul has been burning the proverbial candles at both ends--up at the crack of dawn and at the firehouse every day making sure the work continues to move forward. One day he is painting, the next, cleaning the kitchen and mapping out equipment, up and down ladders, under sinks, on the roof, out front talking to the seemingly endless stream of people curious about what we are doing. When he gets home in the evening, rarely before 9, he is cashed. We have been doing a lot of cleaning and painting. Chelsea is there when she's not baking for Jen or competing in bike races. And I am there as often as I can be, between teaching two classes and working on final book edits. Always a deadline. But I can't stay away from the firehouse. It's become our second home.

Happy Fourth of July!

Ramping up

Here's the thing: I am teaching and working on a book, so I don't have much free time. Paul has been busy planning our new restaurant. He doesn't have much free time, either, and our dining room table is covered with papers, books, catalogs, and a computer. We've been eating in the living room, and as I write, the UPS truck is clattering down the dirt road. We are waiting for a delivery of small ware samples--more stuff to (necessarily) clutter our dining room.

False alarm.

Somehow, though, we manage to carve out enough time to do the things we love to do. For me, it is gardening, for Paul--cooking. Last night, he headed up the hill with our two dogs and our daughter and her buddy trailing behind. They poked through the woods and carefully collected two bags of fragrant ramps, also known as wild leeks. I say carefully because ramp pickers must respect the plants so there are more for next year. Same goes for morels. Don't yank those babies out of the ground, please.

By six o'clock, our kitchen smelled of vinegar, spices, and ramps, and then out came the jars. Here is the finished product:

Paul planted trays and cups of squash, tomatoes, fennel, and beets a few weeks ago, and until now, they lived under bright lights in the basement. We can finally set them outside each day so they can soak up the sunshine. I am looking forward to planting them in giant pots and in the ground, but we've got a month to go before the danger of frost is gone. This means small pots and trays will fill our kitchen (and yes, the dining room) each night. Our asparagus should be popping soon. We still haven't pruned our grape vines. Grass, dandelions, sorrel, and speedwell are choking out our once tidy rows.

There is a lot of weeding in my future.

 

Get outside and enjoy each day. Get close to the ground and smell the rich soil that ultimately feeds you and your loved ones. Plant a few tomatoes. Don't be afraid of bugs, or getting dirt under your nails.

        I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

        And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
        Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
        And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

        And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
        Dropping from the veils of the mourning to where the cricket sings;
        There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
        And evening full of the linnet's wings.

        I will arise and go now, for always night and day
        I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
        While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
        I hear it in the deep heart's core.

        ~ Lake Isle of Innisfree, William Butler Yeats

Building the nest

It's been a long winter. Spring has taken its time in getting here (which is good is many ways) but we are ready for warm weather and days outside planting tomatos, beans, eggplant, squash, and all the other goodies that make cooking and eating enjoyable. I can't wait for the asparagus to shoot out of the ground, and of course, to hunt for morels and ramps in the woods. With all this rain, things are sure to start popping.

We are nearly ready for our new culinary adventure and will be posting more details about our plans once everything is finalized. Stay tuned. May will be a frantic and magical month!

In the meantime ... a pair of robins decided to build their nest in the Porcelain vine that has woven itself though the beams over our patio. We can sit at the dining room table and watch them take turns tucking in pieces of grass, leaves, and sticks. Ella added the crocus to say, "welcome, fat robins and spring."

Futterwacken

Ella talked me into buying a 1000 piece Alice in Wonderland puzzle last Sunday. It was packaged in an attractive box designed to mimic a book, and over the course of the week--an hour here, 20 minutes there, jockeying all those pieces around until they fit just right--I finally finished it. I was convinced that several pieces were missing--they were either eaten by one of the dogs or sucked into the vacuum--right up until the final three clicked into place. I was very close to giving up, but determined not to deconstruct what we had built so far and toss the scrambled pieces back into the box.

It's that way with life sometimes, too.

February

 

Valentine's Day has come and gone, but I just stumbled across the photos I took of the cookies Paul and Ella made to celebrate. She has taken an interest in baking recently, and is obsessed with Cake Boss.  She talks about Buddy as though she's spent the weekend at Carlo's Bakery in Hoboken.