Garden

Meet lovage (Levisticum officinale), known to the French as céleri bâtarde, or fake celery. It really is like celery but without the stalk; its lush leaves have a very similar green, herby, slightly salty flavor. Since it's considered a "magic bullet" companion plant—one that improves the health of all surrounding plants—it always has pride of place in our vegetable garden. It's second only to capers in its concentration of quercetin, a plant-derived flavonoid that has anti-infammatory and antioxidant properties. The Greeks and Romans chewed lovage seeds to aid digestion and, perhaps because of its name, lovage has been used in tonics and potions to conjure up true love. An infusion of the seeds is said to to erase freckles, although it may also cause photosensitivity. The plant grows easily and quickly; pinch it back to make it bushier and to deter the flower spikes. Once they start showing, the flavor becomes quite strong. Use the leaves to make a compound butter, in soups and stocks or, our favorite way, in a simple syrup. This is ideal for cocktails or simply mixed in with sparkling water for a refreshing summer drink.
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By some miracle, I think all our landscaping will be complete by the time guests arrive for our annual 4th of July bash! A lot of planning and hard work went into a series of new stone paths that divide up our little property into new beds for planting. We also added a second, fenced-in raised bed for more vegetables; it encloses my medicinal herbs as well (angelica, lady's mantle, borage, bee balm, catnip, anise hyssop, rosemary, lavender) which were rabbit fodder last year. We are so happy to have found Mike D. from Catskill Native Nursery in Kerhonkson to oversee the design and installation of a gorgeous selection of native plants that have already brought us more bees, butterflies and birds. Some highlights: a berry patch with raspberries, blueberries, elderberries, gooseberries and red and black currants; honeysuckle; aromatic sumac; native grasses; a bed of sunflowers; wild roses. As things settle in and spread out, I'll get G to take more photos, but just wanted you to see the work in progress.

We're seriously considering buying this piece of land that was brought to our attention by a guardian angel up here in Sullivan County. The idea would be to build our dream house on it one day. It's a nice-sized 5-acre lot that starts with a gorgeous meadow and rolls down a hill to a breathtaking reservoir. The best thing is that across the reservoir is all state-owned land that is a protected sanctuary for the bald eagle. We put the canoe in there the other day and it's absolutely stunning. The prospect of being able to live in such a place seems almost too good to be true.So you can imagine how my heart broke when I watched Josh Fox's gripping documentary, Gasland, on HBO the other night. It was a hit at Sundance and I imagine it will get theatrical distribution at some point, but I urge you to see it now; you can watch it on HBO On Demand. Hot, bitter tears rolled down my cheeks during most of the film, which is about fracking—the hydraulic fracturing process that is being used to free up natural gas from within vast shale deposits. Natural gas is being touted as the ideal "transition" fuel that will take us away from fossil fuels and toward alternative energy sources. In fact, this extraction method is entirely unregulated, thanks to a loophole created by Dick Cheney, that evil and calculating sonofabitch. He even convinced the Bureau of Land Management, an agency that is supposed to look after 264 million acres of pristine public land—that's OUR land—to allow drilling.
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Rhubarb abounds at the moment. Driving along the little country roads out here, you see many a luxuriant patch with broad, lofty, ruffly green leaves and the occasional gorgeous flower soaring above. The markets are full of the celery-like stalks in shades that range from rose to raspberry. I'd been feeling a tad deficient for having produced such adamantly green rhubarb, but then I looked up the variety we planted and it turns out Victoria rhubarb is meant to be green! Naturally, it's not the one most commercially favored, since everyone is attracted to the gaudy red stuff, but I'm now quite proud of my green stalks with the discreet hint of pink at the very base. It tastes just as wonderful, and I find the color makes a lovely counterpoint to the vivid strawberries with which it's so often paired. Food52 continues to be an inspiration (even though my strawberry-fennel ice cream, nominated last week, did not win—#$@$%#!), and I think you'll love this simple but flavorful poached rhubarb that I've topped with strawberry preserves that deliver a bit of heat. Make it now, before all that beautiful red (or green) rhubarb has seen its best days.
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I've always been into birds. Where I grew up, in Santa Cruz, California, we had lots of bossy Stellar blue jays, noisy woodpeckers, seagulls, and hummingbirds that drank from our bottlebrush bushes. But I developed a great passion for spotting birds when we were in India. Gliding along the backwaters of Kerala in the South, binoculars glued to my face, I saw some truly exotic beauties—tiny, vividly colored kingfishers, long-legged herons, split-tailed drongos—and I was hooked! My girlfriend Lisa and I even kept a list of our sightings. It was truly a thrill to watch it grow. With the advent of spring, and G's frequent replenishment of our feeders, our yard is full of bluejays, mourning doves (I adore their sorrowful coos), waxwings, red-breasted robins and lots of other little brown birds I have yet to identify. And on our forays beyond, we've encountered many others, such as the enormous turkey vulture, above. The fringe-like quality of its wings makes it easily identifiable, and they're often circling in groups of three or four. This weekend we saw one hunched over a dead deer at the side of the road. They're rather ugly, these carrion-eaters, and yet they have their place in the cycle.
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I know I just posted some pictures of flowers from my garden, but I couldn't resist sharing this profusion of peonies. A couple of weeks earlier than usual, they all blossomed at the same time, weighing their branches down to the ground and reminding me of that old song June is busting out all over! I brought them inside by the armful and it's truly an embarrassment of riches. You can just make out the one single-petal variety, like a shy young girl next to all the bosomy, full-blown ladies in white, pink and fuchsia.

The heat came early this year and with just enough rain it coaxed out lots of flowers we normally don't see quite this soon. We added a bunch of peony plants to our patch, and the new arrivals are already making beautiful music in the garden. G's pampered rhododendrons seem happy, one group of lilies is up, the tiny roses are all abud, the succulent garden is colorful and my beared irises are standing tall. It's a sight to behold.

I am grief-stricken. Here are just some of the innocent creatures currently dying because of the gulf oil spill: Birds, Reptiles & Amphibians, Fish, Invertebrates, Habitats & Plants, Wetlands, Marine Mammals and Terrestrial Mammals, including but not limited to pelicans, sea otters, tortoises,  seals, shrimp, oysters, plankton, sea gulls, plovers, algae, turtles,  dolphins, egrets, insects, crabs, herons, fish, manatees, sea lions, whales, jellyfish, porpoises. This is an outrage and a tragedy: one that could have and should have been avoided. And yet further evidence that this country must turn away from fossil fuel consumption and toward a future of alternative energy sources.

This weekend was full of interesting animal friends. Pulling off the road to get a closer look at some baby geese, we wound up near a swampy pond where we saw a big osprey nest poised on top of a tall, limbless dead tree. With the binoculars, we could just make out the top of somebody's head and then, sure enough, mama (or daddy?) came swooping in with a big fish dangling from its talons! And just then, lumbering across the field and heading straight for the water was this big dame—a snapping turtle with a long tail like an alligator's, big beady eyes and plenty of attitude. She must have weighed about 20+ pounds, but they can get up to 45!
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That's sure what it sounded like some time after midnight last night, when this tree came crashing down onto our little barn. We were just drifting off to sleep when we heard a few strange squeaks that we thought might be some new sort of nocturnal visitor. (In retrospect, I think it was the straining of the wood before it split.) It was windy last night, powerful gusts blowing in the rogue snow showers predicted for early this morning. Suddenly there was a loud wrenching thud, the sound of damage. G went racing out with the night-vision goggles and reported back that a major tree was down. In the morning we were greeted with this grim aftermath...
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