Brambles

I have been stuck wrestling with the brambles. If you have ever bought a neglected, overgrown property, you will know exactly what I am talking about here. I am making progress, but I see life differently right now. In fact, I see life filtered through a pile of brush, cluttered with debris. All the while, I have a goal in mind: simplification outside and inside of NOLD.

I am hoping to strike a balance on our property: I want it to look natural but controlled. Organized chaos. This may sound like an oxymoron, and I can see my father roll his eyes, but I do believe that nature does need to be maintained or the weeds will overtake the landscape and unwanted interlopers will suffocate the diversity of vegetation one might ideally cultivate.

In fact, you wouldn't know it, but a decade ago, an avid gardener owned NOLD. Neighbors still remember the beautiful state of the property due to his keen eye and tireless effort. After three years of sweat equity, things are slowly beginning to take shape. Slowly. I am working in stages and have had help along the way, too.

First, we hired a tree service to remove the large dead and decaying trees as well as trim back the large trees near the house that clog the gutters and may damage the slate roof in severe weather. I always learn something when they come. They advised me to save the viburnum bushes -- trim back the dead growth but do not remove. Sure enough, they came back as good as new. I was also advised to feed the precious oak out front iron. The light green color of its leaves are a symptom of iron deficiency. So, I comply.

In May the last two years, my parents came to weed, thin, and trim up the landscape behind the house. We have been working carefully to try to remove weeds and invasive species while uncovering and saving perennials hidden beneath the overgrowth. All the travel over the summer set me back in this area, but I do see an end in sight next year. As motivation, I am reminded that we have already brought many trees, bushes, and plants back to health like the mountain laurel that bloomed in splendor earlier in the summer:

Now, I am working my way around the house, tackling the brambles around the remaining perimeter of the property. I hope to see the brush pile at the end of the drive continue to grow, awaiting pick up at the end of the month. I will work until the cold sends me running, until November I hope, for the work suits me -- the exercise, the sun, the fresh air, the tangible progress foot-by-foot. I hope to defeat the brambles before the cold defeats me.

In the meantime, as I work to order my very small, immediate world, the following poem emerged:

World Order

Memorize the alphabet

Learn the days of the week

Organize books with the Dewey Decimal System

Classify the periodic table of the elements

Compile references

Calculate distance, metric system preferred

Start the stop watch

Set the timer

Watch the clock

Establish a calendar

Weigh in and weigh out

Theorize, collect date, and analyze to conclusion

Discover laws and set laws

Establish atomic order, birth order, and rules of order

Arrange color in a wheel

Scale music

Measure beats and temperature, pulse and pressure

Mechanize and computerize, revolutionize and modernize

Accumulate milestones and credentials, victories and accomplishments

Collect your thoughts, voice an opinion, and send it out into the universe

Work to turn potential energy into kinetic energy

Know, despite the chaos, nothing is ever lost

Preserve

A cool north wind blew in on Saturday, sending the first of the yellow birch leaves flying. This harbinger of autumn has sent the wildlife into a frenzy of activity. The feeder is emptying in record time. The black walnuts fall steadily from the tree with a heavy thud. They are so hard and haphazard that I wonder how it is possible that one hasn't hit me in the head yet and what the consequence of such a blow might be. The squirrels aren't deterred; their teeth take the nuts to task as their paws quickly spin the protective outer shell. 

My husband has been tackling the wood pile; revealing and demolishing numerous chipmunk nests. They have a vast network of tunnels beneath the surface of our property and their numbers seemed to swell so much this year that the sighting of hawks in the neighborhood is celebrated. I have been watching them swoop low with their unmistakable light coloring underneath only to see them rise up and further up to perch in the tips of the tallest pine trees, masters of their domain.

School just began, and a routine has not yet settled into this family. I am working with as much energy as I can muster each day, falling into bed at night completely spent. I am not so different from the tenants outside my door; I am preparing for the coming winter, too. I am cleaning and organizing and simplifying as best I can. With all the activity and travel over the summer, many tasks were left undone or abandoned all together like berry picking. Still, I will put my head down to preserve as much as I can from the harvest still at hand.

I bought half a bushel of tomatoes at the farm stand, knowing nothing says autumn to me as much as preparing batches of my Roasted Tomato Sauce. Throughout the coming months, I will open a jar and taste the peak of summer as I use it to make marinara sauce or homemade pizza or a hot dip or baked eggs -- it is incredibly versatile and simple to prepare. I also used a few extra tomatoes to make a couple Three Cheese Roasted Tomato Tarts -- one to eat immediately with a hearty salad for a family dinner and one to freeze for a quick meal in similar fashion in the coming months. 

Roasted Tomato Sauce

15 cloves of garlic, peeled and halved

8 to 10 pounds of ripe tomatoes, any variety, washed and cored

4 to 5 large yellow onions, peeled and quartered

1 large handful of fresh herbs, chopped

¼ cup olive oil

½ teaspoon salt

Ground black pepper

1 to 2 tablespoons granulated or raw sugar, optional

1. In a large roasting pan, gently toss together garlic, tomatoes, onions, herbs, oil, salt, and pepper to taste.
2. Roast at 450°F for 25 minutes. Gently stir.
3. Roast for an additional 25 minutes. Stir again.
4. Roast for 45 minutes more or until tomatoes are softened and broken down into a sauce.
5. Remove from oven and blend in a blender or with a stick blender until desired texture. Taste for seasoning. If slightly bitter, add sugar and stir.
6. Eat immediately, refrigerate for up to 5 days, or freeze for up to 10 months.
7. Or, can in a hot water bath, boiling for 30 minutes.

Yield: 4 to 5 quarts 

Three Cheese Roasted Tomato Tart

3 Roma tomatoes, cored and halved

2 tablespoons olive oil

¼ teaspoon salt

Ground black pepper

1 pie crust, baked in a 9-inch pie pan (See Baking Basics in Recipe Index)

3 eggs

1 cup ricotta cheese

2 cloves garlic, minced

¼ teaspoon salt

½ cup shredded Jarlsburg or similar soft Swiss cheese

¼ cup Parmesan cheese

1.    Place tomato halves on a baking sheet, drizzle with olive oil, season with salt and pepper to taste, and roast for one hour. Set aside.

2.    Beat eggs, ricotta, garlic, and salt together until well blended. Pour into pie crust.

3.    Top with Jarlsburg cheese. Arrange tomatoes decoratively on top and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese.

4.    Bake at 350°F for 30 minutes until firm and lightly browned. Let sit 5 minutes prior to slicing.

Yield: 6 to 8 servings

The smell of ripe tomatoes on the counter reminded me that Pablo Neruda would appreciate this small act of preservation. Roasted Tomato Sauce celebrates the "star of earth" of which the poet writes, and I await the invasion come December, too.

Ode to Tomatoes

Pablo Neruda

The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it’s time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.