Root Cellars

I've begun exploring the idea of root cellars in my art work. A tall clapboard house on a hill has been a long standing theme, but suddenly on last week I started seeing this space below the house, below the basement where a family would put away it's goods at harvest time for winter. I find this space intriguing, what do people's root cellars look like? What crops do they put away? What do they use for vessels? The root cellar was also the backbone of the family 100 years ago when most were still growing much of their own food. In this local eating business they are also a necessity for the farmers that keep potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic and so much more available to us all winter. There's also dry storage for grains and beans to keep in mind. I just find my synapses start firing as I think of all the work that goes into this cold damp room to keep food to eat until the next crop starts coming out of the ground. In our modern lifestyle its so foreign, so removed, but it was simply a way of life for so long in our culture. And visually I enjoy the idea of crates of produce being tucked away, waiting to be eaten. I have an idea to start a drawing project of area root cellars, we'll see where I go with it...

Potatoes & Peaches

We heard that it was time to hill the potatoes out at Shore Road, home of Scythe Supply, so we had a hearty oatmeal with Molly & Damon and then all drove out to Carol's together. It was sunny, humid and a lovely morning so we all got down and weeded the rows of potatoes together, I primarily worked on rows of fingerlings and yukons. Miss. Ce fell asleep on the drive out so it was also quiet, grown-up work which is always nice, as it meant Raf and I could both really get something done! After weeding we moved onto hilling, some with hoes, hands, shuffle-hoe or claws and then we put down a generous mulch with the hay we had mowed down at the scything party back in June. Cecilia woke up and helped with the mulching, she sat in the rows drinking water and playing with potatoes or cried out to be held while we put down the mucky hay. Inside for lunch and then onto the A-frame for ice creams just as it started to rain.

I talked to my friend Adam on Saturday morning, he was at the farmer's market in Philadelphia and asked if there were anything I might like for him to bring up to me. I thought a moment and asked... "do they have any peaches?" "Oh boy Anne, DO THEY!" So I said why don't you get us $30 worth of peaches (which turns out to be about half a bushel in Pennsylvania). So Adam and Jesse arrived last night right at dinnertime with all these beautiful, juicy, white Amish peaches! Jesse was very curious as to why we would want peaches at all, not knowing that in Washington County (and Maine!) peaches are not often found and they would not be of the same quality, or low price as in PA. In fact I would say that really freshly picked, truly ripe peaches are a commodity, a luxury, a special treat! So I'll spend some time this morning cutting most of them up and flash freezing them on trays and then putting them away for smoothies and cobblers and oatmeal in winter. And of course I'll leave a generous bowl out on the counter for us to eat up fresh, letting the juice fall down our chins.

Life in Image.

New Mama Blaise with first born chick.
Our freshly harvested garlic.
Miss Ce at the breakfast table!
A painting in progress on my studio table.
The nasturium garden.

New Family Members!

Of the chick variety! Our sweet, sweet little Blaise went totally broody several months ago, she has currently been sitting on a batch of fertilized eggs from Kilby Ridge Farm in Dennysville for 3 weeks! Yesterday just as Ce and I were headed off to Tide Mill Farm (for a fab-u-lous party) I popped my head in the coop to see if Rosie, our bantam alpha chicken, had left any eggs for us. When I reached under Blaise to see if she had hidden the Rosie eggs under her I discovered a brand new little baby chick head! Black, with little white markings! Cute! Blaise was none to happy with me disturbing her and her babies, and quickly tucked little black headed chick back under her. I thought I just caught a flash of some new little crumpled freshly hatched chicky legs, and Blaise was carefully eating shell from the new arrival!

This morning upon checking there are 2 new little heads poking out under Mama, and little cheep cheep sounds emanating from the coop. I held the waterer up for Blaise and she rapidly began drinking from her post, I also put in a few handfuls of feed as I figured she must be getting hungry, I know a fresh Mama would never leave her nest at a time like this. We are so proud of our little Blaisey Girl, who we raised from when she was a day old and now she's a Mid-Summer Mama!

the snuggles!

When a one year old comes running at you, with a giant smile and arms outstretched and grabs ferociously hold of your leg... could there be a better feeling?

How about flinging her body from one parent to the others searching for/sending a sweet kiss?

Then there's the morning wiggle work routine, laying her head on your arm, then rolling over, then flipping so her heads on your hip and relaxing then wiggling some more, then a bit of eye contact and a lean in for more snuggles!

Or catching one anothers eyes across a room and she exchanges a mischievous smile with you and then starts giggling.

And then there are the times she lays across your lap when your typing your blog entry for the day and she sticks her hands in your mouth while rolling around on your lap until you're so distracted you just have to boogle kiss and wiggle her!

the shopkeeper.

Yesterday I "catered" a meeting at TIMA, just sandwiches for 30. They wanted local food though... and local food is what they got! Harvest Wheat from Leanne at the bakery downtown, grilled Tide Mill chicken breasts with massaged greens and Rayes mustard for the meat eaters and grilled zucchini, pesto and a white bean spread for the veggies. As I prepared this food and felt the crunch of 4:30 coming along and wrapped each sandwich in wax paper I thought of how I would plate this, with which local salad greens or carrot sticks, if I were the owner and operator of a small downtown eatery. I think about the ceramics I would use, the limited menu, the other products I would sell to ease peoples lives... olives, a few fine cheeses, some nice oils, vinegars made in house; a small Local Market, with carefully sourced import items.

I imagine the hours this shop/eatery would be open... limited and somehow convenient at the same time. I think of the atmosphere, who else would work there, what other services we would provide, I think of this space as a studio, a cooperative, a friendship with the community. I think of it as a place you could wile away a few hours, in a book, laptop or conversation. The kitchen would be open of course, and you could get a beer or a lovely french-press coffee and sit at the counter to pass the time. I've seen this space in my head for years, the big wooden table, the shelves on the walls, the pleasant color, the benches outside, the windows. The ever-changing chalkboard menu, and the old stand-by recipes.

I want to cook for more people than my family ultimately, I know that, I know how to do that... I want to provide a gathering space for healthy and delicious foods. I want to have a place in town that serves food that was grown in-town...Come on Eastport Farmers! Start growing! This is what I fantasize about as I cook dinner, as I walk down Water Street, as I send out weekly Eat Local Eastport emails, being a shopkeeper.

Laughing and Crying.

I went to a truly lovely wedding ceremony this past weekend, for a pair of women in our community. It was in a blueberry barren, we were overlooking the water. It was a nice sized crowd, not large, not small, you could see everyone's faces fairly easily. There was some gentle music and a general lightness to the whole event. I think I even heard a songbird.

There was a moment in their vows when they said something that touched me, "I promise to keep my heart open to you." I thought that in life that is such a complicated thing to do, and what a beautiful thing to promise to one another as you commit to a lifetime of patience. What a considerate thing to put on the table before the world, an open heart. And then there was the hug...they had a lovely kiss after exchanging rings, but the hug! Oh the hug made my heart swoon, it made the tears flow through my eyes, the deep care, the sweet touch, the true love.

And I share the sweet, the funny and the truthful poem by Billy Collins that was read:

Litany

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.