We’ve had sunshine and snow blizzards all in one week, +17 to -5 and everything in between. I guess winter wasn’t quite ready to say it’s final goodbyes just yet.
But with that being said, I’m happy to report the greenhouse is doing great and the herbs are thriving.
We’ve even harvested our first Rosemary, cooking up some really delicious herby potatoes. They smelt so good and were absolutely yummy, we’ll definitely be making more in the future …
Anyway, we have more snow forecast for tomorrow … luckily we managed to install a heater and thermometer just in time … phew.
I really hope some gorgeous spring weather is just around the corner. Fingers crossed …
Yay … just finished planting our new raised beds (all handmade).
After a lot of consideration we finally decided, that we’d use our greenhouse to create a year round herb garden. So happy with how it’s turned out … we settled on some mint, oregano, marjoram, rosemary, bay, curry plants, sage, thyme and tarragon. So yummy, I can’t wait to start cooking with them …
We’ve also popped in an olive tree, so I’m excited to see how it fares … fingers crossed
Anyway, it was so nice to get out in the garden again … let’s hope this beautiful spring weather continues.
With the days getting longer and warmer, things are definitely ramping up around here. I’m so excited for Spring to arrive and can’t wait to loose myself in the garden. I’m transferring these guys to the greenhouse today: Rosemary, Caraway and Tarragon. I’m also hoping to grow some ginger this year, something I’ve never tried before … so if you have any tips or pointers, I’d love to hear them …
Oh … and also very excited to share, we have some Bees arriving soon. But more on that later.
Back in January I visited the Brooklyn Botanic Garden and saw this beautiful aloe flower. Inside the conservatory, you couldn’t even tell that it was freezing outside!
Forget all that you knew about warming. A red cardinal turning grey of a glass heart.
All you didn’t know of dancing on the moon. Zooming in on a tree and opening to it. Red wood. Red bird.
Pine roasted, you were grilling over an open flame. You were swimming above a blue lake. You were asking a friend what color of green her day was.
Forget all that I didn’t know of the patterns of stems, that calling names is just another way of claiming the weight
of you, which is to say when I learn your first word — light — I unlove and love you right then, just to feel it full again – this bird song, this green house, this lemon pith of warmth. Our own floating city.
Forget what month we devoured with citrus, that fog can fill us too. That in sleep, our bodies are just white tissue contained within flutes of streetlight.
Forget the rules of gravity. Forget locking the door.
This home is my home and yours. We wake to burnt blood oranges, coffee humming, un-shelling ourselves — the new sun resting her lungs on a deck of a hill house.
The moon caked in lemon peels, hollowed cavities where we creviced into sleep, inlets where we danced fog-bent and silly, made rainfall, showered below open pines, gathered moonshells, seas, patterned our breath, tangling, untangling and tangling again into the glass nest we call this warming, you call this shade of sage, this waxing love year, this unfastening of name song. Nick, I say, it’s always warm again.
