Maybe it’s the Northeast’s amazingly early spring, bringing out blossoms not normally seen at this time of year. Or maybe it’s the effect of the new greenhouse, bringing up thoughts of new landscaping to go with. Or maybe Eric’s just beginning to have vacation on his mind. Whatever the reason, get ready to enjoy English gardens as well as weeping pears.
Weeping Pear, Pyrus salicifolia ‘Pendula’
“Our little tree is four years old, planted at a foot tall and doing nicely,” he said about this specimen at Yale’s Marsh Gardens.
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Once more, a Founding Father proves unexpectedly durable. Eighteenth and nineteenth century diary entries were typically very short, and this has provided a handy hook for the Massachusetts Historical Society, which is now offering the daily tweets of John Quincy Adams.
Possibly an acquired taste, but I’m lovin’ it. You can sign up here.
The recent post on building a home greenhouse included a snapshot of flowers therein, tastefully set off by beaucoup de snow outside. Most responders wanted to know what they were, but one reader not only knew, she went me far, far better in doing justice to Iochroma cyanea, a plant that as far as I know has no common name.
Iochroma cyanea by Bobbi Angell
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greenhouse from the kitchen
When I posted this view of our little greenhouse, it was to emphasize how too-small it is for major seed starting. But sharp-eyed and perhaps hopeful Melinda asked about the brickwork; I passed the comment along to Bill (who built the whole thing) and he promised he’d describe building it, just as he has described building our wood-burning clay oven.
greenhouse from the lower side yard
Short version: Adding this greenhouse was neither difficult nor expensive. For longer version, with instructions
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In Maine, Last Sardine Cannery in the U.S. Is Clattering Out reads the headline in the New York Times, over a story about the end of an era and with it the end of a lot of jobs, in a place where not enough jobs has been a problem for generations.
Some examples from the comparatively recent past
Very affecting in its way, but as the story itself points out, you’d probably have to look long and hard for anyone who regarded this as a major loss to gastronomy.
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Here in the Northeast, as you may have noticed, spring’s gentle unfolding now seems more like a violent explosion. It used to be a slow progression: forsythia and hellebores before crocus, crocus before daffodils, delicate star magnolia well ahead of the big pinks.
Now we get the whole catalog in a rush, forced by temperatures 10 and 20 degrees above (formerly) normal. Makes me crazy, among other reasons because early beauties like star magnolia can get lost in the loud shuffle. Judging by the tone of this column, our friend Eric seems to be thinking along similar lines.
There are a score or more cultivated varieties of star magnolia, differentiated mostly by bud or flower color. The straplike flower petals give the species its name; the slow growth habit and modest size make it a great plant for cottage garden or terrace.
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This all started because for those of us who love baking, Easter is an ideal holiday; it’s just so doable. Instead of the glorious but daunting Christmas panoply: cookies, tortes, cakes and breads all clamoring for time and oven space, there’s only one thing you absolutely have to make: sweet yeast bread with eggs in it.
Hybrid Spring Celebration bread, yeast raised eggs and butter, basically, with lots of vanilla and citrus zest and a crunchy macaroon crust.
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Old Faithful: forsythia is the easiest spring bloomer to force – if you don’t count pussy willow -but it’s just at the head of the parade
My friend Ilana the chicken lady has been busy tidying outdoors. “I have forsythia, Viburnum carlesii, flowering quince and Kerria japonica cuttings from spring cleanup,” she wrote. “ Will only the forsythia bloom? What about gooseberry and mock orange?
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What can I say? Bill is an outdoorsy kind of guy and he’s starting to get antsy. I just opened my e-mail and there with a request to pass it on was this picture and accompanying quiz
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“…Dogs have taken over truffle detection duties from pigs because if one is trying to harvest a truffle wood discreetly without alerting the locals, it’s generally a mistake to show up walking a pig on a leash.” From Unearthing The Sex Lives of Truffles, by Nicholas Wade (in the New York Times)
