My garden in summer

July 1, 2015 by Beth Shepherd

Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer’s year

— it brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul.

~Author Unknown

Welcome July! My garden’s cup runneth over with every color in the rainbow. Dahlia and Sweet Pea for the vase on our table, a sprinkling of chive blossoms and nasturtiums on our salad, a few blueberries and alpine strawberries atop our breakfast yogurt, fava beans and mint for risotto. Summer, you are delicious and oh so delightful.

When I look out onto our tiny slice of urban heaven, I feel proud of the beauty and the bounty we pack into 700 square feet. Every inch is filled with pure joy.

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Take the road less traveled, Beth

Spring in my garden – a feast of color

May 15, 2015 by Beth Shepherd

Spring in my garden–a feast of color–and my favorite time of year. Every day I see something new that wasn’t there the day before, and a world that was filled with grays and browns is now flush with every hue in the rainbow. With my hands in the soil, surrounded by my beloved plants, I couldn’t be any happier.

The love of gardening is a seed that once sown never dies.

~ Gertrude Jekyll

Plum blossoms

Hellebore

Euphorbia

Pieris

Hosta

Bleeding Heart

Rosemary

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Take the road less traveled, Beth

Five jaw-droppingly gorgeous gardens

February 25, 2015 by Beth Shepherd

Many of my readers know gardening is a passion of mine, so I’m sure it comes as no surprise that I love to explore gardens and parks when I travel. My ‘Garden Bucket List’ is is much longer than what I’ll be able to see in my lifetime, but as spring breathes new life into the flora of our world, I’d like to share five of the gorgeous gardens I’ve had the pleasure to visit.

Kauai’s Limahuli Garden and Preserve was breathtaking. It’s located at the end of the road (literally) on the north shore of Hawaii. As I toured the amazingly diverse gardens, I felt like I got a glimpse of what the Hawaiian islands looked like a long time ago. Dense greenery on the lower levels of the park are coupled with spectacular views of the ocean from the top of the hill. Limahuli is also filled with information about native Hawaiian plants and, sadly, invasive plants that are taking over tropical paradise. In the shadow of the Napali coast mountains, Limahuli is well worth a visit if you are on Kauai.

Ritan Park, my favorite park in Beijing was stunning, but in a different way than most of the other parks I saw there, like the Temple of Heaven or Beihai, which were so expansive it was hard to comprehend their size and grandeur. Ritan, with its stone boat cafe, masses of lily pads and weeping willow trees was intimate and accessible, the perfect spot to sit and meditate. Plus, it’s only a stone’s throw away from the Silk Market, if you’re in Beijing and need a break from the craziness. Such a contrast!

Monet’s Giverny was one of the gardens on my bucket list. While the crowds were a bit overwhelming, I feel so fortunate I was finally able to visit when we were in France a few years ago. Throngs aside, the gardens are spectacularly beautiful. Monet’s house, too, was a festival of color. I loved the bright green window shutters adorning the outside of his home. And if his kitchen, bright-as-the-sun yellow–and I mean all yellow, every last thing–doesn’t perk you up, nothing will.

Of course, one cannot visit Paris without wandering through the Jardin des Tuileries. The gardens have a certain je ne sais quois that makes them feel oh-so-French. Whether you’re meandering along the grand promenade passing by flower gardens and manicured shrubbery, sitting at one of the cafes in the park sipping wine and nibbling French cheese, or watching the sunset cast orange hues on the fountains, the Tuileries are not to be missed.

A trip to London would be remiss without a stroll through Kensington Gardens. Magnificent trees, arbors, flower beds…and a royal palace! So elegant and serene. I’ve seen pictures of the park fully decked out in its green-leafed glory, but even when the trees were bare in late March, Kensington was still lovely and peaceful, more so I thought than its famous next door neighbor, Hyde Park.

Take the road less traveled, Beth

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The carrot seed: Homegrown goodness

September 12, 2014 by Beth Shepherd

One of Little Bird’s favorite books is ‘The Carrot Seed,” written by Ruth Krauss and originally published in 1945. The story features a little boy who plants a carrot seed. No one in his family thinks it will come up. But the little boy knows better. He pulls the weeds and waters his carrot until, one day, a carrot grows. Just like he knew it would.

Her first crop was decidedly on the petite size. Even though this variety, Nantes, can be grown in a pot, we clearly need a larger pot. But this pot of carrots was her first crop, hers and hers alone.

Planting carrots in March.

September is harvest time.

Picking her carrots.

Homegrown teensie carrots.

The proof is in the pudding–er–carrots.

Taking a bite.

The verdict: “I like them, Mama.”

“Can I try one.”

“No.”

Take the road less traveled, Beth

My garden in August

August 8, 2014 by Beth Shepherd

Gardening is cheaper than therapy and you get tomatoes. ~Author Unknown

My beloved garden, look how you’ve grown.

New plants last fall

And, here she is, in all her glory, August 2014

Take the road less traveled, Beth

Rebirth of a garden

April 16, 2014 by Beth Shepherd

If you would have a lovely garden,
you should live a lovely life.
– Shaker saying

When I first saw the Urban Cabin the garden looked like this:

A few years later, and a couple things planted here and there, and the garden looked like this:

Then we remodeled, tore off the back of our house, moved the sewer line and dug up most of the yard, and put many of the plants in temporary beds. The garden looked like this:

Then, slowly, we started to re-imagine and rebuild, and put in 9 cubic yards of new soil and planter beds in the garden. It looked like this:

Eventually we also added a brick patio, wood chips and more plants…but then we had to take down our two 60-foot Poplar trees, grind out the stumps and roots and removed all the plants beneath them. And it looked like this:

Today, I spent most of the day in our garden. There are new trees, plants, fruit, herbs and flowers, growing everywhere. Rebirth! Our little 18 by 40 foot slice of paradise in the middle of the city. Now our garden at the Urban Cabin looks like this:

And in the front of our home, the parking strip looks like this:

Our garden, like many things in our lives, has been a long labor of love. There is a sign inside our house, given to us by a close friend: Love grows in small houses. And indeed it does. Both inside and out.

Take the road less traveled, Beth

The gardens of Giverny

September 20, 2010 by Beth Shepherd

I still remember the first time I saw Monet’s water lily paintings in Paris. Standing in the middle of the circular room at the Musee de l’Orangerie, the walls awash in color, I felt transported to the gardens of Giverny where Claude Monet lived and painted for 43 years.

Monet once said, “I perhaps owe it to the flowers for becoming a painter.” As a gardener and an artist myself, this sentiment rings true. For many years, until Polaroid discontinued the film, I was an avid SX-70 photographer. I dreamed about visiting and photographing Giverny after seeing Elizabeth Murray’s painterly photographs.

Ever since I caught my first glimpse of Monet’s ‘Nympheas’, some thirty years ago, I’ve wanted to visit Giverny and be able to see the garden that inspired Monet’s passion. And finally, at long last, I did.

During our recent trip to Paris, Big Papa and I took the 45-minute train ride west to the lovely town of Vernon. From Vernon, we traveled by bus to Giverny, a tiny village a few miles away. I wish, as I’m sure many people do who visit the gardens, that we could have had even ten minutes there alone, in peace. Even in September, throngs of tourists filled the little streets that ran between the museum in Giverny and Monet’s house and gardens. At times, it was a bit much, dodging a group on Monet’s famous curved bridge and jostling with the hordes packed into his electrically-hued home.

No matter the crowds, the gardens are as spectacularly beautiful as I imagined they would be. A river of Nasturtiums flowed beneath a metal canopy. Rows of burgundy Dahlias rivaled brilliant golden Sunflowers while hundreds of lucky birds flew from flower to flower singing loudly about their good fortune and enormous bumblebees made themselves dizzy with pollen.

We wandered between Monet’s water gardens and flower beds, stopping to ooh and ah at the profusion of colors and shapes that surrounded us. Trees reflected in the ponds and it was hard to tell which was direction was up and which was down. Our sense of smell and sight were on red alert from all the stimulation.

Inside Monet’s house a riot of color awaited us. An entry room painted floor to ceiling in sky blue, even including the grandfather clock. The kitchen was an acid yellow. I felt like had been dropped into a scene from Alice in Wonderland.

One surprise during our visit was Monet’s obsession with Japanese art. I hadn’t known how greatly Asian art influenced his work. Intricate paintings he’d collected adorned the walls, some 231 prints in all. Japanese bamboo furniture and porcelain dinnerware were also tucked into corners throughout the house. I had mused aloud as we walked through his water gardens that I felt like I was in a park in Beijing…now I know that Monet did indeed draw inspiration from far eastern art and design. The curve to the wooden bridge, a bamboo garden, water lilies, and the way the weeping willows draped themselves over the water’s edge. All were reminiscent of the scenes in the Japanese paintings hung carefully around his home.

What moved me the most during our time at Giverny was the connection between this man, his garden and his art. Gardening is an art form and a way to be close to nature. Monet watched his garden moment by moment and season by season. He captured the nuances of light and color. Monet and Giverny spoke to me for many years. And seeing it now in living, blooming color, it spoke to me still.

Chamomile smile

August 25, 2010 by Beth Shepherd

“One tablespoon, taken at bedtime,” said Mrs. Rabbit pouring a Peter a bit of chamomile tea. Peter rabbit was feeling rather poorly after dining on too much lettuce, French beans and radishes in Mr. McGregor’s garden.

Mrs. Rabbit was one smart mama bunny. She knew her medicinal herbs. Chamomile has been used for thousands of years for numerous ailments, including sleep disorders, anxiety, digestion and intestinal conditions, skin infections and inflammation (such as eczema), wound healing, infantile colic, teething pains, and diaper rash. Chamomile is an uber-herb, a veritable one-stop cure all. It’s even the national flower of Russia!

In the U.S., chamomile is best known as an ingredient in herbal tea preparations advertised for mild sedating effects. There are two plants known as chamomile. One is the more popular German chamomile (Matricaria recutita), while the other is called the Roman, or English, chamomile (Chamaemelum nobile). Although they belong to different species, they are used to treat similar conditions. I know I’m not the only one who has sipped on chamomile tea hoping I’d soon feel sleepy or at least less stressed.

Chamomile in our herb garden is plentiful. Their cheery, little yellow faces smile at me, surrounded by a halo of white petals. It’s tempting to pluck them and weave a daisy chain to adorn my neck or sit atop my head. Take me back to my hippie days, bare feet on the grass and ankle-length “granny dresses.”

But this summer I’ve got other plans for our miniature daisies (Chamomile is a member of the daisy family) because I recently found a recipe for Chamomile Cordial. Cordials are sweetened syrups infused with herbs, spices or plants. They are a snap to make (like the lavender syrup I blogged about a few weeks back) and the possibilities of herbs that can be infused is endless.

Fresh (or dried) German chamomile flower heads are used. Chamomile is easy to grow and it makes a fun addition to an herb bed or edging along a walkway. Or, it’s readily purchased at most any grocery store.

For our first round of tasting, we sampled our Chamomile Cordial sans booze with ‘Lavender DRY Soda’ as a spritzy mixer. It was lovely and lightly herby, a drink that was both refreshing and peaceful on the palate.

The next time we enjoyed our flowery cordial, we pulled out the big guns and floated cognac on top as the recipe below instructs. Big Papa and I sat outside on our garden bench enjoying a warm summer’s night. Stress melted away. I felt relaxed, slightly sleepy even. Hmmm…could it be the chamomile or was that the cognac talking?

How the Doctor’s brow should smile, Crown’d with wreaths of camomile.

~Michael Eyquen de Montaigne

Chamomile Cordial

Note: Chamomile is also part of the Asteraceae plant family, which includes ragweed and chrysanthemum, so people with allergies may react when they use chamomile either internally or topically.

Makes about 2 cups/30 minutes start to finish

2 tablespoons dried chamomile flowers (or 1 tablespoon fresh chamomile flower heads)
2 cups boiled water
¼ cup honey

Add chamomile flowers to a muslin steeping bag or fine mesh tea strainer Chamomile seeds are quite small and thin so be sure to use fine mesh so they don’t escape and float in your syrup. Steep in boiled water until liquid is stained yellow and perfumed, about 20 minutes. Press any reserved liquid out from the muslin bag and discard the solids. Add the honey and stir until dissolved. Keep in the refrigerator until cool.

Once cooled completely, add crushed ice to a glass. Pour in about ½ cup of the chamomile cordial and top with equal amounts seltzer water. Garnish with a thin slice of cucumber to fancy it up. If you like, add a float of cognac and serve immediately.

Store cordial in a clean jar or bottle, covered in the fridge where it will last for several weeks.

~recipe by Amy Pennington in Edible Seattle, July/August 2010

Want to sip on some more? Check out Wanderfood Wednesday!

Cool as a cucumber

June 4, 2009 by Beth Shepherd

Big Papa and I are an online dating success story. In his profile he wrote, “Frankly, there’s something really therapeutic about pulling weeds after a long week at work.” When I read that, I thought, “This guy is for me!” I love to garden. Feeling the earth between my fingers is elemental, and watching plants grow and thrive in our yard is one of life’s greatest pleasures.

During summer, the Urban Cabin’s little backyard oasis becomes an edible feast. In the midst of our uber-urban neighborhood, we have two yellow plum trees, flowers that make their way to our salad, tomatoes, zucchini, Scarlett Runner Beans, a plethora of herbs, and even a corn stalk or two.

So, when I saw the “Armenian Cucumbers” at City People’s Garden Store, I snatched them up without even a moment’s thought. Armenian Cucumbers…how cool is that!

The Armenian Cucumber was introduced from Armenia to Italy back in the 1400s. It is sometimes called snake melon or snake cucumber, because botanically it is a close relative of the honeydew melon, and when it grows, it sometimes curls into a snake-like shape. Armenian Cucumbers are considered hard to find, and are regarded as one of the best slicing cucumbers. The crisp, thin-skinned, and mild-flavored cuke has soft seeds, and grows approximately 30 to 36 inches long, on the ground or on a trellis. It is a “burpless” variety that is easy to digest.

I have already thought of several ways I’ll use our cucumbers. One recipe, called ‘Jajek’ is delicious, spread in a pita bread sandwich or drizzled over kebabs. Jajek uses cucumber, yogurt, garlic and mint. It’s similar to Greek Tzatziki. I’ve seen several variations on recipes for Jakek. This is how I make it:

Jajek
• 3 cups yogurt (I prefer a nice thick Greek yogurt)
• 1-1/2 cups cucumber (Armenian or English), peeled and diced
• 2 cloves garlic, mashed
• 1 tablespoon mint (I use fresh mint from our garden, but dried works too)
• Salt, to taste
• Squeeze of lemon juice

Combine ingredients in a bowl and chill. Sprinkle with fresh chopped mint before serving.

Bari akh.orzh.ak or Bon Appétit in Armenian!