the Each Week, One Beast project: week 11

Norton in the ghost garden. A little something different this week, in memory of my parents' cat, who died a few months ago. He haunted my mom's garden even when he was still of this world. If you were out on a lovely night, enjoying the stars and the summer insect noises, and something small went stampeding past, rustling the undergrowth... It was Nortie. It was never quite clear if he'd been spooked by some spirit we couldn't see or understand, or if he was the one doing the spooking.

Third annual crocus post

I'm bad at remembering dates, or even years, of when important things happened. That's why I'm so pleased with myself for having posted the blooming of these little harbingers of spring three years in a row, because they are important to me, and I like knowing that they are perfectly in tune with their own particular climatic requirements. I don't know if day length has anything to do with it, but they do like warmth and sunshine, and perhaps a song sparrow to serenade their emergence...

Here they are blooming March 22, 2011 and February 22, 2012.

Two rats with a ribbon

I got to draw two very special rats for a recent pet portrait commission. I have never known a rat well, though I do have names for the ones who frequent my compost pile, and when I bring them something especially delicious (like moldy winter squash with stale baguette and a sprinkling of coffee grounds with wilty cilantro on top), I recite the menu for them. I have a better appreciation for my wild city rats now, after studying the photos of these two sweet pets, and reading stories from their loving owner.

the Each Week, One Beast project: week 10

Crazed squirrel taking five. Everyone is acting a little nutty around here, what with the lengthening daylight and the thrill of spring on the breeze.

I've discovered there's a challenge in this beastie project, and here it is: not only do I have to draw one beast each week, but I also have to draw ONLY ONE beast each week. There are so many other projects on the table, but the temptation is to push them aside and keep drawing little animals until I get one I like. Finishing one, then heaving it over my shoulder into the pile of rejects and shouting "well this is a piece of crap!" is not productive. So, sometimes I've got to post something I'm not real proud of, to stay on target. That's just part of the Grand Mediocrity of things, I guess. Which is not a judgement on this squirrel. This squirrel has his own problems to deal with, none of which concern my rendering of him.

In March

This is the very best time of year, I'm sure of it, because it is so full of anticipation. While the dreary weather is still something we have to haul our withered souls through in hopes of just one crocus... Well, the wishing is the sweetest part, right? And other than the very first bird song, nothing else has been and done yet. We have it all to look forward to. And also, the neighborhood cats are pissing on everything (isn't that great?).

the Each Week, One Beast project: week 9

Cooper's hawk on a branch of Siberian elm. This week's beast is very dear to my heart. The Cooper's hawks of South Side have been my companions since we moved here. Most years, we find a nest early in the season - they are big and built of coarse sticks, constructed before the leaves come out, so pretty easy to spot. There have been years when things went awry and the eggs smashed on the ground, and years when we watched as many as four chicks go from cottonball stage to fully fledged, soaring the thermals above the city. Now is the time of year I look for a pair staking their claim to a scrappy little piece of Scranton woods...

Plus a bit of this and that: Prints of the first seven beasts are now available in my Etsy shop! And I'll have some work at the divine boutique Freedlove, 532 Spruce Street in Scranton, for March's First Friday, 6-9pm. I'll be hanging out there for the evening, or at least until I get very sleepy, and would love a visit. You might not recognize me, because just by osmosis, spending a couple hours in Freedlove will have made me fashionable. Or so I'm hoping.

Eating my way out of winter

Birds began singing weeks ago, and to me, that marks the start of spring. I love this time of year, for the needy desperate craving for warm weather and outdoor industry, but also for the respite of true dark wintry days that, in all their depressing gloom, offer a few more hours to catch up on winter crap.

Last summer, we grew three kinds of flour corn in our little city garden - Painted Mountain, Abenaki Calais, and Hopi Blue. Since then, a mason jar of each variety has sat on the kitchen table, the colors being too pretty to shut away in the pantry. On Friday, we took our corn to the farm of some friends, and ran it through their awesome grain mill. The first cup of Painted Mountain went into a yogurty batter, and then into the wood cookstove, and then into our bellies as really yummy, beautifully speckled cornbread. We ground the Hopi Blue into meal, too, and had some in pancakes for breakfast the next morning, along with wild blueberries left from summer foraging. The Abenaki Calais we ground a little coarser, into polenta.

I made a tart with our very own whole-entire, rind-and-all, except-for-the-seeds Meyer lemon, and that was also delicious. Meals last week were built around our own roasted tomatoes, sweet (oven)dried tomatoes, herbs, black trumpets... Sausagefest done and happened, so our freezer is stocked with chorizo and friends. Bacon, too. Oh boy. Bacon. We have teas from chaga, reishi, and chamomile that we harvested ourselves, and a freezer still partly full of berries, blanched green beans, breaded eggplant, pesto, chicken-of-the-woods, and whatever else is lurking in the avalanche.

So that's that. We've just been eating. And I'm feeling good about what we put up last season. After giving up the gardening business, I had more time to grow food, collect food, draw pictures to trade for food, and preserve food, so between what we stored and the staples that come on the truck with Matt's bakery supplies, we haven't had to go to the grocery store much at all this winter. Except for blocks of frying cheese and avocados, because taquitos with guacomole is, like, fifty percent of our diet. But we grew the salsa.