Chive Talkin'

Yesterday was a good day to wade into the annual gardening foray. Once again, it was me against the weeds, if that is what one calls the grasses, wildflowers and other plants that have moved in to garden plots left empty too long. About twenty years ago, Greg built a rock wall alongside the lodge, on the driveway that leads down to our landing. Over the years, I would plant different things there: flowers, herbs, vegetables. I still haven't found any one thing that does best in that spot. In recent times, we built a raised bed garden, and I have tended to that more loyally than the older terraces. But this year, I decided, is a good one to revive those old beds and see what might pop out of the ground this time.

Neglect is a sad thing. The weeds were tall and well-rooted. The early spring probably assisted in that. One of the most prolific plants was actually an intentional one--my chive bush. My dad had given me a starter plant when I first moved up to Gunflint Lake, and I had put it into the ground. What a hardy perennial. It grows abundantly, and it always gives me plenty of onion flavor in whatever salad I toss it into. Life at the lodge obviously suits it, too, as it had spread so much, I had probably a dozen locations where chives were growing. It was time to cut back on it, so I pulled and pulled and reduced the chives to two small plots. The scent of onion was in the air while I worked. I had noticed it before when weed-whacking. While it seemed cruel to be so aggressive, I knew that we didn't want a garden exclusively devoted to this, as pretty as the purple flowers might be.

When it comes to gardening, I am of the mind that the plants must survive with as little or as much intervention as I can afford to give them. Watering generally happens, but not as frequently as it should. Weeding might take place when I walk by and notice it needs doing. I don't have a spectacular green thumb, but I can usually harvest a few homegrown products, and that is really all I want. The satisfaction of the produce, as well as recognizing the connection to ancestors that gardened as a way of life, is enough to keep me planting each year. As far as the chives are concerned, I realized that they are my ideal garden vegetable--they manage to not only make without me, but to flourish in amazing quantity. Now, if we could only survive on onion grass.

Truth be told, though, one other plant in the side garden holds my heart the most. It is a tall white pine, growing at the northeast corner of the lodge. When Greg was first laying out the terraces and wall, he planned the locations with regard to that tree. At the time, it was maybe five feet tall, and rounded like a bush. In the years since, it has grown to be a wonderful example of its species. The branches are full and lush, and the pinecones in late summer are rich. It shelters birds in both summer and winter. It stands as a reminder to us of how, given time, a tree can grow tall, and a stand of them can turn into a forest. So it will be in years to come, where the Ham Lake Fire left its mark.

It's A Blue Monday

But definitely not in the traditional sense. The sky was an intense blue this morning, as was the lake. And many other things were blue, too.
The one inch of rain that fell between Friday and Saturday was a big boost for all of the flowers and plants out there. Over time, it should help the lake a bit, though as a friend put it: We could use two or three more of those. Still, we're happy with any little bit that comes down.

As I went about my chores today, toting the camera, Greg asked what I was doing. When I explained the blue pictures, he asked for the camera, and contributed the next two. Collaboration at its finest!


Despite the clouds, it was a good weekend. Fishermen and women reported some results in both the walleye and the trout category. Seems the trout are deep, but with the right line, lures and location, success can be found. Paul has been giving it a go the last few days, but so far hasn't found that correct combo. But he said that he is enjoying it.

One more blue thing made it onto the scene. Yesterday morning I baked blueberry scones in the bread oven, again using residual heat from Saturday night. They were mighty tasty, and disappeared after church in a jiffy. That reminds me: We are once again hosting an 11:30 service of the Life in Christ Lutheran church, each Sunday through Labor Day. We love to have guests join us, as we gather outdoors for worship.

The birds continue to chirp merrily, but the hummingbird feeder has been quiet. They must be busy nesting, and wouldn't that be a marvelous thing to see. In this season of babies, we've seen little grouse, toddler squirrels, and a baby bunny. I haven't seen any moose calves, or fawns yet, but will keep an eye out for them.

The only thing that was a sad blue for today was that Blogger was down for a while this morning. My apologies for a delayed posting, but as they say, it was due to technical difficulties. If that was the only bad thing, though, I'd say we're doing pretty well here! Hoping that you are, too.

Sunday Photo: Laundry Day

At a resort, laundry is usually all about sheets and towels. But sometimes it's good to have a change of pace.

There's a Bear in My Oven

Last Sunday, I used the bread oven as a slow-cooker. We made pizza on Saturday night, and when we had finished, I shut the door on the oven to preserve the heat that was still in the bricks. Since adding a layer of insulation last fall, we had heard what a great method it is for long, slow cooking the next day. Sure enough, the opening temp the next morning was 350 degrees--perfect.

I browned up the roast, then set it into a foil-lined roasting pan. Next, I cooked up some barbecue sauce, a recipe that we have been enjoying for years. It is from The Great American Beer Cookbook by Candy Schermerhorn. Key ingredients include plums, tomato sauce, herbs and spices, and of course, beer. I used a bottle of Summit Extra Pale Ale. After pouring the sauce on the roast, I wrapped it well in the foil, and set it in the oven.

Four hours later, I figured it needed to be checked. Armed with my meat thermometer, I opened the door. The interior temperature of the oven was about 275 degrees. The meat tested out at 170, and it was tender and moist. We took it out of the oven, and let it set for a bit. Next I pulled it off of the bones, but really, it fell right off. We ate it for dinner with rosemary roasted potatoes, which also were done in the bread oven. Believe me, it was a feast.

So now we know a little more about our oven, and it is my intention to continue to slow-cook in it the day after our pizza gathering. We would like to invite our guests and neighbors to bring their own food over to try in this setting also. Just give me a call or leave me a comment if you are interested in trying this out some week. On a hot day, it will be a nice way to roast up a meal without firing up the oven in the kitchen. Gotta love that.