About 20 years ago I was working in a school with a very brusque custodian who I had very little in common with, but we often found ourselves taking lunch at the same time and would chat. He liked gardening and I told him one day about the family who hosted me on a high school exchange to Germany and their tremendous garden, where I had tasted red and black currants for the first time. A few days later he came in and shoved a branch at me without a word - it so happened that he had currants in his own garden and made a cutting from his red currant bush for me. I brought it home to my parents' house and my dad planted it in his garden, and for years it produced a small handful of berries, just enough to wash and eat one at a time standing over the sink.
This year, though! I moved home over the pandemic so I was here to harvested a bumper crop last week - two cups! Just enough to mix into a coffee cake, so that's what I did. Half of it is wrapped up in the freezer for a rainy (or more likely, wintery) day. And the other half we ate with big mugs of tea. Dad asked if the currants taste the way I remember them tasting. And they do.
Reading about your strawberry jam makes me think about the apricot and raspberry jams my grandparents used to make in the summers. Canning is something I would love to learn someday. These days I've been getting into salads because I can't bear to turn on the oven or use the stove much. I really like making a tuna salad with hummus instead of mayo. I like to add chopped celery, green onions, and a brightly colored bell pepper. Some lemon juice, ground cumin and coriander, and salt and pepper to taste round it out. Great to eat with corn chips or on toasted sourdough!
This was a beautiful post. Most days I'm so busy and I just skim emails, but today I really read this. I loved your points about how the rainbow flags are great, but it's our actions that really matter. I've been focusing on diversity and inclusion issues at my small business recently and this post just came at a great time. We need to love each other, accept each other, be there for each other, smile for each other. We're all humans and we deserve that. (Side note, I know that technically small businesses can still legally discriminate against the LGBTQ+ community, and some do - but many, many of us choose to open our doors to everyone.)
We were visiting friends in Seattle during the heat apocalypse last weekend and picked salmon berries, huckleberries, raspberries, and strawberries and made them into a loose jam. When the heat got too overwhelming, we hid in the basement and made waffles, topping them with the jam. It was beyond perfect.
Strawberry and basil is such a great combo! Try making strawberry lemonade and put a little basil in it...deeelicioius!
I grow cherry tomatoes and herbs on my small balcony. This year, the basil and rosemary are going gangbusters but the tomato plants are not very happy. DC area has been alternately too cold and then too hot. Oh well, I am getting a few....so far I think it works out to $9.24 for each tomato.
Thank you for this newsletter. I signed up after "meeting" you in The Chapel. I wanted to keep hearing your voice. I did need that blessing today.
I think this is the first time I've ever heard someone describe humility as "radiant and unashamed." haha Definitely associate that word more with being told to shut up and submit as a lowly female who needs to know her place. But we're all about reclaiming things this month, and if anyone can give humility new life, it's you and your writing!
Sad to hear about the weeds, literal and metaphorical in the church and publishing industry.
The rainbows to me are like signposts. If a gas station sign is still up at a place that doesn't have any gas, doesn't get us very far down the road. But if a gas station is hidden and full of gas, but no one knows it's there or what it is unless they know the owners intimately and have the right connections to know it's a safe place to stop and rest and refuel, that's also not going to do many people good. So for me, it's both. The rainbow on someone's phone case or social media post meant the world to me when I was in the closet because it helped us find each other on dangerous "roads," but if they were exclusionary or unsafe or rude to me in return, it was just an empty symbol. The infamous clanging gong.
Jeff, I read and look forward to your letters and there is always something good there. I often listen to the music, buy the book, always wish someone would make the recipe for me and always share your missive on my Fb page. You are a blessing in my life. Thank you.
This year I've been the Rip Van Winkle of the kitchen, falling into a long deep sleep of protest against cooking for myself. But I seem to be waking up and in anticipation of last week's heat wave I decided I needed nourishing things in my fridge. I made Ottolenghi's smoky feta: a big jar of feta sitting in olive oil with charred garlic cloves and red pepper flakes, lemon rind, and tarragon. He serves it over peas lightly processed with lemon juice, mint, tarragon, and garlic. It was a revelation. But the smoky feta was also wonderful with hummus and soft pita bread. It was such a simple thing to make but made everything it went with rather magical. Also wonderful straight out of the jar with a glass of red wine!
We live in a townhouse and have only a small front porch as our growing space. We also have a water softener, so the salted water from my hose is notorious for killing plants. I was determined to grow something this year though, so every morning I walk the half mile to the park, fill a 12 cup tupperware bowl with water from the drinking fountain, and walk home to water my plants. We're in the hot, inland San Diego summer now where days regularly reach 90+, but my tomatoes, mint, parsley, basil, and chives are thriving. The analogy of having to "go to the well" is not lost on me; there is something spiritual about having to travel to get the water my plants need. Oh, also thriving is an apple tree seedling that came from a seed that was already sprouting when I cut into an apple last fall. What a surprise that my snack turned into a darling little tree, nearly three feet tall now. The water journey is worth it.
I am definitely going to start using the phrase "artisanally harvesting" for the way that I meditatively pick four cucumbers, a pint of tomatoes or tomatillos and a handful of beans in the morning. I often think of the field workers when I'm in the garden and of how quickly they have to harvest to get fresh produce to our markets. My spouse and I were just discussing cover crops for our first winter in our new home. I will be looking more into field peas as an option after this latest newsletter.
I was away for a week (stayed with my family on a farm/nature preserve with lots of chickens!) and returned to a bountiful harvest of green/yellow beans, basil, sage, lemon balm, oregano, and chard. Now to figure out how to use them all. The bunnies, birds, and ground hog have feasted on the peas and broccolini. I do so appreciate your newsletter and how you share your triumphs and struggles in the garden - and how it all relates to faith. Thank you for giving me things to ponder.
Your comment about wanting to sauté pea greens with garlic and angry tears hit home. My partner has been battling racial prejudice in her field and has been living with the stress and exhaustion of this for quite a while. Most days it feels impossible to feel encouraged and hopeful, and I'm not even the one going out every day into the fray!
My little balcony garden never flourishes, so I love hearing about your gardening adventures!
I related to your experience of Pride and church. I too thought coming out meant losing the church. In the end I found a community of faith that loved, embraced by and eventually ordained me. Thank you for your shared experiences.
I look forward to reading your newsletter every week. I have also wondered about calling the month/the movement/the march Pride and the biblical meaning of the word.
I’m trying to keep up with what the split single share of our CSA brings us: beets, greens, rhubarb, spearmint and sour cherries this week.
This year, I picked strawberries with two of my kids the morning after a torrential downpour. We were alone in the field for quite some time, struggling with limited berries, wet plants, mosquitos and mud. After 15m I had picked enough berries to cover the bottom of my basket. I called out to my daughter (9) and son (4) to ask them how their picking was going..."Great" said my daughter, "I have 7 berries already!" (My son had 3). I felt despair - how long was it going to take to pick three baskets worth of berries? And so I did the thing that was hard (for me, at least), which was to embrace the mud and move several rows down the hill, shove my arms into the wet leaves, look underneath for berries that were not rotten or home to worms and try not to think about the mosquitoes. And we did it - we picked 3 baskets full!
Sometimes a new row, further down the hill unexpectedly alters my perspective. "Deep peace of the quiet earth to you."
Thank you for sharing your thoughts on Pride and compassion. You're so right about reaching out to people. It makes a big difference.
I just made a marinara sauce with fresh basil from my basil plant. We use the sauce to make a stew with fish or hot Italian chicken sausage and mushrooms.
About 20 years ago I was working in a school with a very brusque custodian who I had very little in common with, but we often found ourselves taking lunch at the same time and would chat. He liked gardening and I told him one day about the family who hosted me on a high school exchange to Germany and their tremendous garden, where I had tasted red and black currants for the first time. A few days later he came in and shoved a branch at me without a word - it so happened that he had currants in his own garden and made a cutting from his red currant bush for me. I brought it home to my parents' house and my dad planted it in his garden, and for years it produced a small handful of berries, just enough to wash and eat one at a time standing over the sink.
This year, though! I moved home over the pandemic so I was here to harvested a bumper crop last week - two cups! Just enough to mix into a coffee cake, so that's what I did. Half of it is wrapped up in the freezer for a rainy (or more likely, wintery) day. And the other half we ate with big mugs of tea. Dad asked if the currants taste the way I remember them tasting. And they do.
Reading about your strawberry jam makes me think about the apricot and raspberry jams my grandparents used to make in the summers. Canning is something I would love to learn someday. These days I've been getting into salads because I can't bear to turn on the oven or use the stove much. I really like making a tuna salad with hummus instead of mayo. I like to add chopped celery, green onions, and a brightly colored bell pepper. Some lemon juice, ground cumin and coriander, and salt and pepper to taste round it out. Great to eat with corn chips or on toasted sourdough!
This was a beautiful post. Most days I'm so busy and I just skim emails, but today I really read this. I loved your points about how the rainbow flags are great, but it's our actions that really matter. I've been focusing on diversity and inclusion issues at my small business recently and this post just came at a great time. We need to love each other, accept each other, be there for each other, smile for each other. We're all humans and we deserve that. (Side note, I know that technically small businesses can still legally discriminate against the LGBTQ+ community, and some do - but many, many of us choose to open our doors to everyone.)
We were visiting friends in Seattle during the heat apocalypse last weekend and picked salmon berries, huckleberries, raspberries, and strawberries and made them into a loose jam. When the heat got too overwhelming, we hid in the basement and made waffles, topping them with the jam. It was beyond perfect.
Basement waffles—they sound delicious! I hope you're doing okay and staying cool enough.
Strawberry and basil is such a great combo! Try making strawberry lemonade and put a little basil in it...deeelicioius!
I grow cherry tomatoes and herbs on my small balcony. This year, the basil and rosemary are going gangbusters but the tomato plants are not very happy. DC area has been alternately too cold and then too hot. Oh well, I am getting a few....so far I think it works out to $9.24 for each tomato.
Thank you for this newsletter. I signed up after "meeting" you in The Chapel. I wanted to keep hearing your voice. I did need that blessing today.
I think this is the first time I've ever heard someone describe humility as "radiant and unashamed." haha Definitely associate that word more with being told to shut up and submit as a lowly female who needs to know her place. But we're all about reclaiming things this month, and if anyone can give humility new life, it's you and your writing!
Sad to hear about the weeds, literal and metaphorical in the church and publishing industry.
The rainbows to me are like signposts. If a gas station sign is still up at a place that doesn't have any gas, doesn't get us very far down the road. But if a gas station is hidden and full of gas, but no one knows it's there or what it is unless they know the owners intimately and have the right connections to know it's a safe place to stop and rest and refuel, that's also not going to do many people good. So for me, it's both. The rainbow on someone's phone case or social media post meant the world to me when I was in the closet because it helped us find each other on dangerous "roads," but if they were exclusionary or unsafe or rude to me in return, it was just an empty symbol. The infamous clanging gong.
Jeff, I read and look forward to your letters and there is always something good there. I often listen to the music, buy the book, always wish someone would make the recipe for me and always share your missive on my Fb page. You are a blessing in my life. Thank you.
This year I've been the Rip Van Winkle of the kitchen, falling into a long deep sleep of protest against cooking for myself. But I seem to be waking up and in anticipation of last week's heat wave I decided I needed nourishing things in my fridge. I made Ottolenghi's smoky feta: a big jar of feta sitting in olive oil with charred garlic cloves and red pepper flakes, lemon rind, and tarragon. He serves it over peas lightly processed with lemon juice, mint, tarragon, and garlic. It was a revelation. But the smoky feta was also wonderful with hummus and soft pita bread. It was such a simple thing to make but made everything it went with rather magical. Also wonderful straight out of the jar with a glass of red wine!
We live in a townhouse and have only a small front porch as our growing space. We also have a water softener, so the salted water from my hose is notorious for killing plants. I was determined to grow something this year though, so every morning I walk the half mile to the park, fill a 12 cup tupperware bowl with water from the drinking fountain, and walk home to water my plants. We're in the hot, inland San Diego summer now where days regularly reach 90+, but my tomatoes, mint, parsley, basil, and chives are thriving. The analogy of having to "go to the well" is not lost on me; there is something spiritual about having to travel to get the water my plants need. Oh, also thriving is an apple tree seedling that came from a seed that was already sprouting when I cut into an apple last fall. What a surprise that my snack turned into a darling little tree, nearly three feet tall now. The water journey is worth it.
I am definitely going to start using the phrase "artisanally harvesting" for the way that I meditatively pick four cucumbers, a pint of tomatoes or tomatillos and a handful of beans in the morning. I often think of the field workers when I'm in the garden and of how quickly they have to harvest to get fresh produce to our markets. My spouse and I were just discussing cover crops for our first winter in our new home. I will be looking more into field peas as an option after this latest newsletter.
I was away for a week (stayed with my family on a farm/nature preserve with lots of chickens!) and returned to a bountiful harvest of green/yellow beans, basil, sage, lemon balm, oregano, and chard. Now to figure out how to use them all. The bunnies, birds, and ground hog have feasted on the peas and broccolini. I do so appreciate your newsletter and how you share your triumphs and struggles in the garden - and how it all relates to faith. Thank you for giving me things to ponder.
Your comment about wanting to sauté pea greens with garlic and angry tears hit home. My partner has been battling racial prejudice in her field and has been living with the stress and exhaustion of this for quite a while. Most days it feels impossible to feel encouraged and hopeful, and I'm not even the one going out every day into the fray!
My little balcony garden never flourishes, so I love hearing about your gardening adventures!
I related to your experience of Pride and church. I too thought coming out meant losing the church. In the end I found a community of faith that loved, embraced by and eventually ordained me. Thank you for your shared experiences.
I look forward to reading your newsletter every week. I have also wondered about calling the month/the movement/the march Pride and the biblical meaning of the word.
I’m trying to keep up with what the split single share of our CSA brings us: beets, greens, rhubarb, spearmint and sour cherries this week.
This year, I picked strawberries with two of my kids the morning after a torrential downpour. We were alone in the field for quite some time, struggling with limited berries, wet plants, mosquitos and mud. After 15m I had picked enough berries to cover the bottom of my basket. I called out to my daughter (9) and son (4) to ask them how their picking was going..."Great" said my daughter, "I have 7 berries already!" (My son had 3). I felt despair - how long was it going to take to pick three baskets worth of berries? And so I did the thing that was hard (for me, at least), which was to embrace the mud and move several rows down the hill, shove my arms into the wet leaves, look underneath for berries that were not rotten or home to worms and try not to think about the mosquitoes. And we did it - we picked 3 baskets full!
Sometimes a new row, further down the hill unexpectedly alters my perspective. "Deep peace of the quiet earth to you."
Thank you for sharing your thoughts on Pride and compassion. You're so right about reaching out to people. It makes a big difference.
I just made a marinara sauce with fresh basil from my basil plant. We use the sauce to make a stew with fish or hot Italian chicken sausage and mushrooms.