Pantry Pickin'

With a bushel full of peaches on the counter, I decided to put a dent in them by making some crepes for brunch today...Crepe Filling:
2 cups of orange juice
8 ripe peaches peeled and cubed
3 TB Cointreau (optional, of course)
3 TB Maple Syrup
A pinch of cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg
fresh grated orange peel
splash of vanilla

Combine all of the above and simmer until syrup thickens. Remove from heat while you prepare the crepe batter.

Crepe Batter:
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup milk
1 large egg
sprinkle nutmeg
1 teaspoon vanilla

Whisk together until smooth. Cover and allow to rest for 30 minutes. Preheat a small saute' pan.Add a teaspoon of butter and coat bottom completely. Add about 4 TB of the batter to the pan and swirl around to cover. Cook until edges appear dry and begin to lift from the pan.Flip over and cook and additional minute. Stack on a plate while the others are prepared.When all the crepe shells are finished, assemble by putting 1/3 of a cup of the peaches in each crepe, fold over edges, and put on a serving platter. Drizzle filled crepes with peach syrup.

Finished crepes, served warm, with a tablespoon of butter pecan ice cream on top of each one.
mmmmmmmm....

The Last of the Golden Girls...

I think it's safe to admit that the Buff Orpingtons have always been our family's favorites. They are gentle and friendly, lending themselves always to a passing stroke or pickup.They are good layers, dropping consistently inside the coop, instead of wherever the muse strikes them (unlike a few other birds I know). We've had six in all, bringing home three at different times. Categorizing them as 'old Goldies' or 'young Goldies'... they were all called 'Goldie'. Over the years, we have sadly said goodbye to five of them. Two to old age, but then there was that summer where a fox killed three of our Goldies in one night. The one that remained mourned her beautiful golden sisters for a good long while afterwards...I will never forget it. She made a mournful sound that I have never heard from a chicken before or since. It was heartbreaking. I was told once that hens recognize each other visually and that it's important for them to have others of 'like kind' to hang out with. I have witnessed this to be true many times. The single-kind birds do not integrate well into the flock. It's a fact of chicken life. After Goldie tragically lost her sisters, she was not shunned from the flock, but she became a bit of a loner...and I believe her loss made her more attached to her human flock. She became affectionate (as hens go), willing to be groomed and nursed when she needed it, and always first in line for a handout. She surprised us a few times by recovering from the edge of goodbye this past year. But even in her decline, she would fulfill her Buff Orpington duty by nesting on any eggs left in the nesting box. They are the best mamma hens. When I returned home from some errands, I found her standing against the screen door to the kitchen. Unusual even for her. I knew something was wrong. She never went back to the coop to roost in the evening, instead choosing to spend her last hours next to the house. The Golden Age has passed here on the Farm... at least for now. But I can easily forsee a future flock of Goldies again. Maybe even next spring. Goodbye, Goldie. You were a beauty and a joy to all.

Dreary Teary Drips & Drops

Feline Philosophy

This is Sweet Birch...pining away for her favorite bedmate, the IceMan. His move to New Hampshire last week has left her a little unsettled. No hockey bag to curl up on. No midnight pizzas to share and clean up after. No familiar boy smells emanating from piles of dirty laundry and bedding. No nocturnal greetings at the door after Friday night stick and puck games. No tickle torture, devilish torment or potty humor. Just quiet....lots of quiet. You'd think this old gal would simply breathe a sigh of relief and just enjoy the quiet.But we, I mean she, is a creature of habit. She does miss her IceMan, but in that stoic fem-feline way, she is doing her best to keep it underwraps. After all, kittens do grow up and scamper away, don't they? It is the natural scheme of things. She'll be fine....yes, she'll be fine.Rx: Little cat-naps, a little stroking and catnip, lots of catnip.

Herbs go to HomeSchool!

The Kardia Learning Center organized a wonderful medieval festival for their young students (all 90+ of them!!) which featured a delicious feast and appearances from the Norse Vikings of Philadelphia and their beautiful Viking Ship. I was asked to do a presentation on herbs with a medieval theme for two age groups: First, the Pre-K and Elementary group and second, the Middle and High School group. I brought a large harvest of a variety of herbs and discussed how they may have been used and prepared for children by their mothers in the middle ages. With the older group I decided on the topic of the Black Plague, introduced a few antibacterial herbs and the legend of the Four Thieves Vinegar.Would have loved to hang out with the Vikings a little longer...our presentations overlapped each others. I did get to visit with them before hand, admiring their hand sewn garb, mead horns and trade goods. In fact, I was shown the largest piece of amber I have ever laid eyes on. It was an oval the size of my hand. Magnificent! All in all, a great learning experience for these kids. Congratulations to the homeschooling moms who put it all together and thanks again for the opportunity to educate your children. I noticed quite a few future herbalists in the crowd with that tiny green twinkle in their eyes.

First the Beauties, Now the Beasts.....

We have been pretty fortunate to have an abundance of good bug helpers in the garden this year. However, the praying mantis clans are taking over! Sweet and comical when small, full grown they can be quite menacing. They make quite an impression in flight and have a voracious appetite. The large ones are extremely quick when pouncing on their prey and produce an audible munch while dining. This large moth never had a chance. It was disturbing and fascinating to watch at the same time

Late Bloomers

The temperature dropped to the low 50's the last two nights. The cold morning dew on the grass makes it nearly impossible to venture out in bare feet. Round bales sit in the pasture. The sunflowers are no longer putting out new buds, but instead goldfinches are happily gorging themselves on the seed heads...sigh. Hard to avoid the fact that summer days are fleeting. Fortunately, the sadness of this realization is soothed slightly by a few late bloomers in the garden. The Heavenly Blue morning glory took it's good old time establishing it's vine this summer. I nearly pulled it out a few times in frustration. After finding this beauty this morning, I'm glad I didn't.

The Moonflower vine was a completely different story. It took off in May and almost instantly covered my humble choice of a support. The vines reached the top and then spiraled out in all directions like a giant green octopus. The flowers however, were elusive...until this week. Since the full moon Saturday, it is averaging one bloom opening every evening. Yesterday there were three! Notice the glowing 'moon' at the very center of the flower? Click on the image for a close up. This 'moon' showed up on a few of the photosThe passionflower vine never even poked it's sleepy head through the ground until well into June. I had nearly given up on it's return. A few flowers have bloomed so far, but the vines are just loaded with tiny buds. Keeping fingers crossed that they bloom well before frost. There is tincture making in its future.

Date with Destiny

Hello, my friends!! So glad to be home. I just returned from a rather unplanned trip to New Hampshire this week.It is normally pretty difficult to get away from this farm in the height of the growing season when everything needs so much attention but, truth be told, when the Boy got a recruitment call from the general manager of the New Hampshire Junior Monarchs hockey team, I had no choice but to drop everything and go. Quite a change of plans, considering he was all set to start community college here in just a few weeks. So, without much planning, suddenly the Boy and I were setting out on an 400 mile adventure in a pick up truck loaded with maps, music and hockey gear heading north to meet his destiny.
We drove straight to laid-back Brattleboro, VT on Monday (my own personal side detour-I love it there) and headed directly to Brattleboro foods co-op to pick up some AMAZING road food. It's not too often that you can say that! This co-op was the first of it's kind in the country, so after 30+ years of fine tuning, they have it down perfect. The buy-local, the recycling, the volunteers, the FOOD! Great place to hang for a few hours. We next jumped onto RT 9 to drive due east through the wilds of New Hampshire. At this point the bulk of the trip was over and my map-tending co-pilot took a snooze beside me. With busy highways behind us and good food to sustain us, it was smooth sailing for the next hour and a half through the mountains to Manchester. After 7 hours of white-knuckle driving, I finally felt relaxed enough to look around at the plant life along the way. The scent of sweet fern, pine, spruce and fir through the open windows was breathtaking.I guess it was that remote drive through the beautiful scenery and mountain air with a sleeping boy-man by my side, that caused the slow avalanche of emotions that followed: The subtle fears of the unknown began to unfurl, the protective motherly instincts vs. the need to let go of the large sleeping man-body curled like a baby with more fragrant hockey gear packed than clothes to wear. I wondered whose fears or excitement were greater...his or mine. When I suddenly came upon a natural stream widening into a small pond covered with thousands of white pond lilies sparkling in the sunlight, I began to weep. When I saw a moose crossing sign, I laughed out loud. When I witnessed enormous marshmallow thunder heads alongside a rainbow and blue sky, I wept again. The visual beauty of the mountains combined with the olfactory sensations simultaneously opened and soothed this grieving momma's heart. It became apparent that at the end of this road stretched out before us, my sleeping boy-man was going to wake up and shake hands with his destiny and with stars in his eyes, begin the subtle transition into manhood. And so it happened. The next few days were a whirlwind of tryouts, phone calls, meetings and paperwork. Next, college testing, transfers and class registrations were put into place. Mapping out the lay of the land between the campus, the rink and his new host family's home was another hurdle. A new job at the rink is in the works. At the end of each day, the hotel beds offered two welcomed, multi-pillowed, queen sized crashes. After three days in Manchester and the last hand shake, a formal contract was presented and we headed for home. My boy will be returning to New Hampshire for the year in just two weeks.
On the drive home, our reactions to this new chapter unfolding in our lives were quite distinct. He fell easily into a deep sleep. I, on the other hand, stayed focused and gripped the wheel, maneuvering through many hours of torrential rain and stormy weather- not unlike the swirling lists in my head of all the things that needed to be planned and accomplished in the next fourteen days. Hmmm, therein may lie the difference between the child and the adult. The illusion of 'our plan' and the 'planning' of it.
At a street light, I paused to look at my son and the innocence of his sleeping youth, so trusting that someone who loves him will carry him safely home while he sleeps. He will be waking soon, I can see, into a world where he will need to be at the wheel, steering his life for himself. Part of me wanted to shake him and wake him, to be present and share this treacherous, demanding drive with me with one last chance to teach him all I know amidst brainstorming and list-making. Another part of me wanted to let him sleep, safe and sound under my wing through the violent storms. It could be the last time I am given a choice and I choose the latter. This part of our adventure ended back in PA well after dark. We arrived home hungry and more than ready to fall into our own familiar beds. It was time well spent, but I have missed my gardens and have many orders and responsibilities piling up around me, awaiting my return. I have few photos to share of the trip. We didn't have much time in the schedule for blogging detours. It was a direct date with destiny. I hope to return to a regular blogging schedule now, but with only two weeks until the babe flies the nest, I may be a little distracted. Thanks for being there while I am...

Humm-Dinger of a Storm

Can you see the camouflaged little hummingbird taking a rest on the red crocosmia branch there? She has been such a joy and a delight to watch, actually coming right up to my face and the MAN's on the same day to get a closer look. Hard not to react with a wild swing of the arms imagining it to be a cicada or hornet coming in for the attack. But I go out expecting her now and am surprised at her curious nature. I guess being able to zoom to the highest treetops in a millisecond gives her an edge of security that other birds can't fathom.
Oh, that humm-dinger of a storm on Sunday?We knew it was coming, but it was still miles off.Could have easily still been outside putting tools away or finishing up last minute work in the garden when the rogue lightning bolt came out of nowhere with a canon-like explosion of light and sound. It glanced off the ancient sycamore tree at the corner of the house, knocking off some bark and leaves, but it's final destination was our phone line which promptly zapped the phone/fax machine, the wireless modem and the MAN's computer...all attached to the phone line. Took four days for the phone company to send a tech out to repair it. Been exceedingly frustrating to be out of commission in the communication department for that long. Been even a little more concerned that my hearing hasn't returned to normal yet in my right ear...was right inside by the window near that tree when it hit. Thank goodness we weren't on the porch, as is often the case, as a storm approaches. Is it my imagination or are these thunderstorms picking up in intensity and frequency? I have finally submitted to fear and dread at an impending storm, instead of romantic anticipation of a good garden soaking and cuddling under the blankets. Good grief!

The Merry Mead Gathering

With nearly 25 people in attendance for the Mead Making workshop on Saturday night and guest speaker Greg Fink at the helm, the farm was a rockin' good place to be for feasting, fellowship and the flowing of fine fermented beverages! A truly great time was had by all. It was a glorious evening by the gardens, as well, and a bit cooler outside than in the Farm at Coventry kitchen packed with bodies enjoying the finest of Greg's tasty wares. For my Kansas connoisseur: I served strudel with the sweet dessert mead, chocolate brownies with the dry blackberry melomel (couldn't help my chocolate craving regardless of the expert recommendation) and fresh herbed goat cheese with the sparkling apple cyser. There was also an excellent plum mead that was my own personal favorite.
Greg brought along a few of his mead horns that were beautifully carved by a friend. He shared the proper holding technique of the mead-filled horn so as not to suffer the dreaded backslash burp and wet shirt that results from holding it the wrong way! A heathen faux' paux to be sure.
We were also greatly excited by the last minute news that our very own bee-wrangling bud, Trey, would be in attendance for the event, selling the first honey harvested from the Farm at Coventry colonies in the back 40!! He was happy to report a harvest of over 600 pounds with still more to glean from the remaining hives. We purchased a 5 gallon bucket in anticipation of our own mead making excursion and were gifted a case of raw honey for home use. It is sublime. I swear I taste shades of catnip and anise hyssop in the mix...those little bees are certainly workin' it hard.
Even more precious, if that is possible, was the beautiful beeswax that Trey was able to take away from that 600 lbs of honey...only 2 pounds, believe it or not, but it is the finest gold I could imagine. I put it on a pedestal in the center of the feating table for all to admire. Take a lookey see... I think I see a special bee-keeper's salve in Trey's future. Hey, move over, Burt. Oh it isn't Burt's Bees anymore, is it? It's Clorox's Bees now. I prefer to keep my salve making to small batches, made with hand harvested plants and fine beeswax such as this. Can't imagine that kind of superior quality when you're projecting $500 million a year. Keeping it real and small here on the farm...better to know folks like this, bringing together good home grown food, swapping cool tales and ales, and keeping the fine art of 'crafting' of all kinds, alive here in Pennsylvania. Raising the mead horn to all who attended Saturday. Would surely love to make this an annual event. Perhaps I could convince the MAN to do a brewing class. A Beef and Beer, perhaps. hmmm. I like the sound of that. Beer brewing is normally a winter time happening. Plenty of time to plan for that...stay tuned

Foto Funk...

A breathless return from a midsummer blogging vacation...I lost my daily dose of blogging discipline a few weeks ago. It was a combination of top priority issues, a power surge of Farm at Coventry business after a large and colorful feature appeared in a local newspaper and intense preparations for a major presentation at the International Herb Association conference last weekend. More on that adventure later. However, my true loss of blogging mojo came after spending an entire day sorting through and choosing a selection of photographs for a new series of Farm at Coventry note cards. By the time I got the call from the printer to come and view the proofs, I was already designing my packaging and display. This was 'phase one' in an effort to showcase the photographs in anticipation of unveiling a 2009 calendar at years end. Since the fall of last year, I have been racking up seasonal photos around the farm, with a critical eye, dumping many but meticulously storing many more in month-appropriate folders on my computer. It was a 12 month plan, which I have been faithfully executing since October of 2007. In ten months of exploring this piece of land on my hands and knees and tippy toes in all sorts of weather I have captured nearly 5,000 images. So, when I walked into the print shop I came prepared to plunk down a big note card order on the cream of the crop....until I saw the proofs. In a matter of seconds, ten months of photographic splendor began to unravel for me. A little background: Last fall, a graphic designer at the print shop helped me with a small series of note cards that I pulled together for the Christmas season. He seemed to be having trouble with the images that I emailed him. He kept noting that they were 'too rich' and made some suggestions on modifying my camera settings, to which I complied. He also made suggestions on cropping the original images in his own 'creative style'. The job, which should have been straight forward, was taking too long because of his own admitted 'tweaking' of my images. Tensions between the force of two creative minds ran high. The original quote for the job was reasonable. The final cost, after his unrequested 'tweaking' and my insistence that they be 'untweaked' was astronomical. I complained first to the manager and then the owner of the shop and they eventually adjusted the difference and I got my cards printed to my own specs. I left happy with my victory, but exhausted from the experience of 'butting heads' with someone who claimed to have a degree and major experience in this arena. I have a good eye, but I am somewhat lacking in understanding all the bells and whistles of the digital and electronic gadgets I own. Interestingly, a week later I discovered that the employee was let go from his position. I was secretly relieved that I would have someone new to work with in the future. However, all these months later, I was again reminded how this fellow inflicted his 'expertise' upon me. His sage advice on my camera settings has come back around to kick me from behind. When I mentioned this to the girl holding my oh-so-less-than-perfect new proofs, her mouth dropped open and she excused herself to bring the manager out. I soon discovered that the 5,000 photos that I have been gathering for nearly a year were not suitable for print. The resolution setting on my camera was set too low for a sharp crisp image. I had to wonder if it was true ignorance on his part or a deliberate attempt to sabotage my future photos. I was (and still am) devastated by this discovery. I left the print shop biting my lip and forcing back tears until I could get to my truck. They were extremely apologetic, offering to try to 'tweak' my images on photoshop free of charge to get them clearer....I said, Thanks, no more tweaking. Sigh. Long story, I know....but it crushed me for a few weeks.I have finally pulled my camera from it's pouch again and began the tedious process of reading the user's guide that came with it. Good start. I have adjusted my settings and moved forward. With more than a bit of trepidation, I started shooting again and made a few more adjustments. I'm looking into digital photography classes and perhaps replacing my 10 year old camera. The good news is that all of those photos that I have collected are perfectly suited for web viewing so I will never be lacking for shots for the blog and the website. Another learning curve I've begun to tackle. Another lesson learned. whew, tough one. But glad to be back....

The Cautious Camera Caper

Been sneaking around the back yard with my camera like a secret agent in disguise, quiet like a mouse until I'm spied from above by the dreaded birds...here is the sneaky week in snapshots :

The MAN had to restring some of the hops vines which are so laden with papery fruits that the strings were beginning to break under the weight of them. Note to MAN self: Next year spring for the heavy duty twine that's a little more pricey...but worth the time saved in the long run!

The boy made this new little fireplace patio for me this summer...finally fired it up the other night. Fire may have tamed the savage winged beasts

After many years of pruning perfection, the MAN's concord grape vines are coughing up an enormous load of fruit this summer. Really looking forward to this harvest!

daylily at daybreak

the bee balm is 'swaying in the beeze' at dusk

sunshine and shadow spider