Behold, The Celadon Poppy

These small-flowered plants grew wild in the backyard of my childhood home. As such, they seemed less interesting than the exotic annuals and perennials in the proper beds, and I took them for granted. Only years later, when I saw them on sale for $15 a plant, did I realize how valued they were in certain areas. (If the common dandelion did not re-seed and come back so prolifically, we’d be paying through the nose for those sunbursts of blooms and jagged leaves.) The common name of the celadon poppy seems to reference the gorgeous bright hue of the matte foliage – with its hints of silver and cooler shades of green. The stems and flower buds are coated in light-colored hairs, lending a textural highlight that offsets the smoothness of the foliage.

As mentioned, the flowers are small, but of the brightest and clearest yellow. Visiting friends often mistook them for buttercups, holding them up to their chins and asking if they liked butter. The plant had its own subtle defenses too, with a sap that ran somewhere between orange and yellow when any of the stems or buds were broken. It stained skin and clothing alike, a warning signal that belied any delicate appearances.

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Twin Swim

A couple of weeks ago we had my niece and nephew over for a pool visit. They’ve come a long way as far as their swim skills go, and with a couple of swimmies on their arms they’re unstoppable (I have it on good authority that ‘swimmies’ is the proper name for those flotation devices). Thinking their aquatic exertions would allow for a nap at 5:30, their Dad let them sleep for an hour or so (against my judgment, but I don’t have kids of my own so it’s not my place to criticize). The fact that the kids were up until midnight made any criticism self-evident and unnecessary anyway.

 

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Chives, Chives, Everywhere Chives

My niece Emi likes to eat chives. She’ll go up to the small group of green stalks, pull one off, and just start chewing it. It’s a little strange, but kids could do far more destructive things, so this seems like a healthy quirk. (She also likes to pull off the flowers of irises, which is less healthy, but I digress…) Because chives are so common and hardy, I’ve never given them the adulation they might deserve, but having recently added them to a number of dishes, it’s worth noting that they can make all the difference in the world. As can be seen here, they’re even pretty in the rain.

The subtle, slightly sweeter hint of onion adds a delicate flavor to many foods, and their bright green color and clean form lends a refreshing pop and pizzazz to otherwise lack-luster presentations. I find it easiest to cut them into the desired length with a pair of scissors (versus a knife and cutting board) – it tends to leave a cleaner cut and results in less bruising. If you’ve ever been daunted by growing your own herbs, or chopping them up, chives are a great way to start.

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Break Free From the Chains

I hold the lock and you hold the key…

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I Begged Him to Save the Babies

Almost every year, a robin finds a way of making a nest and laying eggs near our backyard patio. Usually, Andy manages to catch her before it gets too far, (the one year he didn’t catch her in time, she terrorized us whenever we were within a short radius of her hatchlings). This year, right in the crotch of our weeping cherry (the tree closest to the patio – it actually shades part of it), she constructed a nest before he noticed, and soon enough these eggs were laid. Andy said he had to remove it, but I begged him not to do so. Let’s just wait and see if she’s okay with us, I said.

Up until now, she’s been well-behaved, leaving us to dining and gardening in the nearby vicinity. In fact, the Japanese umbrella pine I just transplanted was right below the nest, and she stayed without a peep as I pried it out of the ground.

We shall see what the arrival of children does to her peaceful disposition. In all that I’ve witnessed thus far in life, that tends to destroy almost all peace.

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Lady’s Mantle

There are certain leaves that hold water well, allowing it to bead and pool like sterling drops of mercury, perfectly capturing and throwing back the light, shimmering and sparkling like a thousand tiny crystal orbs. The lady’s mantle is one of these plants. A great garden plant without such tricks, it throws sprays of bright chartreuse flowers out at this time of the year, the perfect reflection of the freshness of the season. The day these photos were taken was following a stretch of rainy days, so they had more than enough moisture collected for their close-ups.

There’s a more subtle beauty to be found in the overlooked foliage of certain plants. It’s easy enough to be wowed by the flashy floral fireworks of roses and peonies and lilies, but without a proper verdant background, those things just wouldn’t pop.

Sometimes, with a helpful sprinkling by Mother Nature, those leaves become a show of their own.

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Monday Funday Recap

Yes, I’m christening Monday the new Funday, because we need it now. After a very gay weekend of Boston Pride, and Albany Pride (neither of which I quite made) – and the Tony Awards, which engaged me more than most (especially as I get to see ‘Kinky Boots’ and ‘Pippin’ this coming weekend!) it’s time to recap the previous week. Summer, and beautiful days, makes these recaps more tedious to write, and I’m guessing more tedious to read. I won’t feel bad if you skip it. Points for honesty.

Biggest news: I finally joined Instagram. And Instagram will never be the same. I’m behaving for the moment (not even one selfie yet!) but that won’t last. Nothing gold can stay…

There was the Great Gatsby party, in 95 degree heat, and it was hot, hot, hot!

This was a very floriferous week in the garden, particularly thanks to the peonies, clematis, tree peonies, dogwoods, more peonies, and lilacs – even if I had to be ruthless.

The first swim of the season happened.

There were some summer culinary treats, simple and true, in the form of one sizzling salad and some simple side dishes.

One of my favorite bands, James, provided inspiration for this memorable song.

Your Hunks of the Day were comprised of Pavel Petel and a naked Olympian, Evan Lysacek.

And last but most certainly not least,it was my best friend Suzie’s birthday. Pay respect. 

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My Best Friend’s Birthday

It’s Suzie’s birthday today, so if you see her, wish her a happy 38th!!! Every year I try to embarrass her with a photo from her past, but if you’ve seen her photos, you know nothing embarrasses her (World War 2 helmets, granny glasses, brass-colored hair, and every possible way of looking bad while eating have been captured to no avail). But she did pause when I mentioned the following photo. It was taken during a cruise our Moms took us on during winter break from our first year at college. We were in Bermuda, walking some crazy waterfall-surrounded path, trudging through splashing rivulets and trying only to keep from falling on our asses. As my Mom snapped this photograph, I still remember Suzie’s words of wisdom: “Nothing like walking a mile in your bathing suit.” Circa 1994…

Happy Birthday Suzie!!

And many happy returns of the day!!

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A Simple Summer Salad

Starting at this time of the year, I do not want the oven or the stove-top to be on. Nor do I want hot soup or steaming vegetables for lunch or dinner. For this light lunch with JoAnn, we started with a glass of cucumber water. I got the idea a number of years ago when we traveled to Virginia for a family wedding. After a flight and a taxi cab in the high heat of a Virginia summer, we stumbled into the hotel lobby, tired and sweaty and, at least on my part, grumpy as hell. Plopping down on a couch, I looked up and saw a large carafe of icy water, through which the cloudy visage of floating cucumber slices and watermelon pieces could be seen. I poured myself a cup, quickly downed it, and poured another. It was such a refreshing treat, the notion of a fruit-festooned pitcher of ice water has remained a source of relief from summer heat.

For the salad, a friend recommended thinly sliced fennel on a bed of arugula, with a simple Dijon vinaigrette (utilizing that wondrous white balsamic vinegar).

A few slices of cherry tomatoes for color, and a topping of grilled chicken (not done on the grill, but purchased already cooked from the Fresh Market – because when it’s 95 degrees out you don’t even want to grill).

To add further color, and another side dish of cool flesh, we repeated that simple take on tomatoes that so enraptured me earlier, with a yellow heirloom that made all the difference.

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Overlooked & Under-rated

One of the mystifyingly unheralded plants in my garden is the clematis. Aside from a sweet Autumn clematis that covers an arbor in the side yard, I never quite give them the love they deserve, the fault of which lays entirely at my feet (in the shade) in spite of the fact that they continually give good face (in the sun). This purple version sits on the other side of the arbor, where I plopped it mainly as an afterthought, yet here it is, brightening its little corner, blooming at the top of the adjoining fence, and valiantly performing despite my neglect. This year, I may have to work to make some amends.

Pruning is the tricky part of caring for the clematis vine. To be honest, aside from the sweet Autumn version and the common purple Jackmanii variety (both of which perform best when cut down to a foot in the earliest spring, before new growth starts), I don’t know enough to say anything on the basic pruning of the other forms. If you don’t know, ask for instructions or research which variety you have to determine a pruning schedule, as that is the key to getting them to bloom properly. (It’s also one of the reasons I’ve avoided them; easy upkeep is the way I try to operate in the garden.) There are beautiful flowers on some of them, though, so I may have to put in the effort one of these days to figure it out. ‘Nelly Moser’ in particular looks especially lovely, and with a name like Nelly, what on earth has taken me so long?

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Boston Florals

This weekend I’m headed back to Boston, partly for Pride (though I’m not sure I’ll do the parade this year) and partly just to get away. I have some plans with a long-time friend and her daughter (my how times have changed) and need to scope out some new summer spots. The last time I was in town the spring floral display was at its height. Hopefully there are some pre-summer delights in bloom now.

 

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An Edible Heirloom

Heirloom tomatoes are known as much for their unique, and quite varied, style as they are for their taste, and are best left without some additional crazy-ass culinary adornment. At the local Price Chopper (consider the source) they rang up as “Ugly Tomatoes” which seemed rather mean-spirited. I think they are beautiful, especially when the red and yellow pigments do battle in a riot of circus-like stripes, and the puckered ribbing leaves wavy designs along a cut slice. Give me gorgeous, flawed, natural imperfection over perfectly-proportionate precision any day.

Originally I was going to cut them up and add them to a salad, but they were too pretty to get lost in that wilderness. A friend advised that I keep them separate on their own platter, slicing them and arranging them as seen here, then amending just slightly with some basic ingredients.

A light drizzling of olive oil was a good place to begin, but it was the second addition that was the real revelation: white balsamic vinegar. I thought I might get away with a champagne wine vinegar, but was advised it wouldn’t be quite as sweet. This turned out to be true. The difference was profound. Sprinkled with some salt and pepper, a few chives from the garden and some sliced almonds, the tomato dish was complete.

Garnished with a sprig of pesto basil (also from the garden) and the foliage of a fennel bulb (coming up), it was ready to serve. It’s the perfect summer accompaniment, but substantial enough to stand alone as a light meal. For swimsuit season, that’s exactly what is needed.

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A Bouquet For the Dog(wood)

This gorgeously hammered vase was a gift from my friend Alissa. It is one of my favorite vases, and it stands in a place of prominence right at the main intersection of the house, where bedroom hallway meets living room meets dining room. This is the vase that gets filled with flowers whenever we have company over (and often when we don’t). It’s deep, and holds a lot, both flowers and water, so you need something substantial to fill it properly. In this instance, a few branches of Chinese dogwood, cut off as much for reasons of judicial pruning as for this bouquet, was a last-minute whim. We needed something to welcome JoAnn, and the peony and weigela bouquet was not quite filling out the space, so I went into the front yard, noticed the wayward branch, clipped it off and cut it down to size.

I’ve seen the American dogwood used in big hotel bouquets, the “blooms” (actually sepals) floating like butterflies on bare branches, but I wasn’t sure how well the Chinese version would take to being cut. Luckily, it took quite well to it – much better than I could have hoped, as it remains looking much like it does in these photos as of this writing (almost a week later). The best bouquets are the simplest, and it doesn’t get much simpler than two branches of dogwood. Too often people overdo it with flowers, crowding or combining when something more basic would be more beautiful. Like so much of life the adage is once again, ‘When in doubt, leave it out.’

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A Very Cut-Throat Year

Battle-worn, weary, with barely a fight in me left, I stare out at the late spring afternoon sunlight pouring into the backyard. The overgrown branches of a pair of mockorange bushes threaten to close off the view, which is mostly just a panoply of bright green, backlit by the sun. They are only beginning to come into bud now – summer is still a couple of weeks away. We can pause for a moment. Still the night, still the moment. After they bloom, I will prune them back hard. This is the year of cut-throat rejuvenation. If I can tame a thirty-foot cherry, I can topple a fifteen-foot mockorange. The gardener must be ruthless.

I just cleared an overgrown viburnum, and with little room left in our yard I had to let it go completely. After pruning the branches back to the main stumps, they wept, spilling their treacly sap in perfect emotionally-manipulative form. I almost felt bad, until my back felt how stubborn their roots were. Then the battle was ON. And it was heated. A few earthworms may have been innocent casualties. A whole bunch of sweat, dirt, blood, and tears later, and one very unhappy but finally dislodged little tree, and the day was done.

Not that I’m entirely heartless. In fact, the reason for all this effort was to make a better home for a prized Japanese umbrella pine, which had finally outgrown its underneath-the-cherry place in our backyard (as deep down I always knew it would). For something as rare and graceful as the Japanese umbrella pine, some coddling and pampering are warranted. Fingers crossed that the transplant does well. The ghost of a vicious viburnum may spurn anything that tries to follow in its path. In this world, no one is entirely innocent. The blood of trees is on all of our hands.

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