Gardening In The Time Of Covid-19*

I have felt a deep affection for our garden during the past ten years, so it's challenging to express how much more I presently love it as France completes its third day of lockdown while spring makes its much awaited appearence.

Foreground: off the patio white sweet alyssum, red tulip, abelia, irises, ivy-covered pergola pillar; background: lawn and that wide, brown smear is the asparagus bed.

Our larder and freezer is well stocked allowing us to refrain from food shopping (which is permitted but only if carrying a self-signed certificate printed from the government's website) which is mutually beneficial for us and others. But fresh can't be beat and the seven-year-old asparagus bed has begun in earnest last week popping out spears. Though their delectable taste lessens each day of storage, cutting off the woody ends (trimmings can be used for making stock), placing the asparagus upright in a jar with 2.5 cm (an inch) of water, and covering with a plastic bag keeps their flavour longer. In this way enough can be harvested to make a soup.

Rhubarb will soon be on its way.

In about a week, pea shoots will be ready for picking. Ah, fresh greens!

In about two months, raspberries born on last season's canes will be ripe. Once harvested, those canes will be cut almost to the ground, and new ones will grow enabling a second crop for September.

Strawberries will be ready by beginning of May.

I haven't planted any new tulips last autumn and hope what is in the ground will do their thing soon. Presently, there are single show stoppers like an Apeldoorn Darwin Hybrid bud peeking out in between an ivy-covered fence and a Leyland cypress hedge . . .

. . . and this sprightly Seadov Triumph tulip sprouting on the compost under a rusty pole . . .

. . . and finally this Purple Dream lily-flowered tulip gracing the front garden.

A sizable expanse of low-growing, evergreen periwinkle (Vinca minor) just off the front entrance staircase is full of their lovely blue blooms. 

À la prochaine!

* Yes, Love In The Time Of Cholera by Márquez inspired my post title!

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Baby Beet Greens, Peas, Garlic, Parmesan Farfalle

The Calm One was out shopping for pasta he uses in his three pasta/three cheeses mac 'n cheese: penne, corkscrews, and pipes. Reaching for a box, he saw that it was already opened. So he reached for another, and that one also was unsealed. So he wriggled his long arms even higher, so high that when he grappled with a hopefully sealed package, he heard a crash on the other side of the aisle. Chastened, he hastily put it in the cart and after noting that the closure was intact, made a speedy getaway. And that is how we get to try new things. As the pasta was farfalle.

Rise, O steam!

Harvesting peas is a Goldilocks endeavour. The pod needs to be plump, but not so much that every molecule of air is replaced with pea. In other words, the pod should not be completely rigid but still a bit pliant.

Peas over a certain size will not be as sweet. The perfect pea placement is when they are just touching each other.

Beet seed naturally forms clusters so no matter how carefully it is sowed, there will be an opportunity to harvest baby beet greens by thinning, leaving about 10 cm (four inches) between beets so the rest can develop into ruby beauties.

I prefer young and even older beet greens to spinach in terms of taste and texture

Ingredients are in bold. For one serving, put a couple of fistfuls of farfalle in boiling water. Contrary to traditional advice, use just the amount of water to cover as giving the pasta the room to swim does not do anything necessary and takes more time to bring to a boil, plus a more flavoured water makes a better sauce. Cook for ten minutes. Toss in a handful of shelled fresh peas. Simmer for a few minutes or until the peas and pasta are mostly done as their cooking will continue in the sauce. Keep a few tablespoons of cooking water aside. Drain and reserve. In the same pot, saute a minced garlic clove over low heat in a tablespoon of olive oil for about a minute or until fragrant. No browning please! Toss in a handful of chopped baby beet greens. Stir until tender, just a few minutes. Add the pasta water or in my case a combo of pasta water and chicken stock. Stir in the pasta and peas, coating them with the sauce. Simmer until most of the liquid has evaporated. If the peas and pasta are getting overcooked, pour out any remaining liquid and give the dish a final stir over the heat. Salt to taste and serve with freshly grated Parmesan and freshly milled black pepper. I thoroughly enjoyed scoffing it down as it tasted FRESH! Thank goodness for the potager.

You are looking for a glazing effect not a soupy one

Lavender out in the front garden fills the air with its fragrance.

A pollinator busy at work.

Though expansive garden vistas are lovely, I tend to gravitate towards a peekaboo perspective giving a layered view: Queen Elizabeth rose, a veggie bed, and lavender.

There are not many strawberries left to harvest, but luscious raspberries make up for the slack. Most days there are enough for a morning feast with cereal or for dessert or for a late night snack.

The first daylily opened a bud the other day. Each day there will be new flowers hence their name.

One of our five plants

À la prochaine!

Cor, Petrichor!

Starting with a few drops here and there which were ignored as I continued weeding onions, the rain then quickened its pace instigating my sprinting pell-mell towards the sheltering sous-sol just in time before the crashing downpour came. 

The green of the garden darkened and blurred

Whoosh! Torrents ran off the patio. Just ten minutes later when all was quiet, petrichor perfumed the air with its unmistakable clean, bracing scent which went to the very core of me, simultaneously soothing and invigorating. What makes this captivating fragrance? Plants partially contribute to its creation. They release germination-stimulating oils in response to generous moisture so as not to cast their seeds on inhospitable ground.

Tomatoes and late-season potatoes loved their shower

Verdant contentment abounded.

Bright green & sharp outlines once again plus overflowing birdbaths

Grazing my fingertips over wet foliage is one of the many pleasures of having a garden.

Ivy-covered wall

Sensory experience need not stop at auditory, olfactory, visual, tactile: yes, that freshly rain-washed, ripe blueberry found its way to my mouth. All hail and praise the gustatory! And also give praise that there was no hail.

Almost daily rain for the last week inspires baking.

Top crust chicken potpie: peas, carrots & chicken in nutmeg-flavoured cream sauce

Recently harvested parsley, a bit of dill, and raspberries came in handy for a soup and dessert . . .

Once minced with the ever-so-nifty herbs scissor, the green leaves went into . . .

Creamy potato, onion, and saucisses de Strasbourg soup (some photos are corrupted but text remains correct in this old post).

The lush berries got topped with vanilla ice cream.

À la prochaine!

RELATED LINKS

The meaning of the British exclamation of cor