I’m blogging about books and writing over here. Come see me if you want!

So with all the shifting about and rearranging of priorities, activities, and whatnot in my life . . . it seems it’s time to put this blog on hold indefinitely. I won’t delete it, I don’t think . . . at least not for now. Y’all have been such great friends through all my silliness, and I appreciate it!

For several months now I’ve been struggling with decisions about what I should do with my Etsy shop, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s time to let it go. While this decision was tough to make, it isn’t exactly a sad one. My heart just isn’t in it anymore, and it’s time to say goodbye so that I can do the things that ARE filling my heart with joy right now. I have no regrets, and I feel like my two and a half years of running Green Fingers was a success. I made wonderful friends, learned valuable lessons, enjoyed creating new things and sharing them with others, and even made a little money. I want to thank all of you for all the support, encouragement, and kindness you’ve given me over the past couple of years. You have no idea how much joy you’ve brought me. If I decide at some point in the future to open up shop again, I’ll be sure to let you know.

This time of year is the best for flowers! I love to make arrangements for the house from the yard, it’s so satisfying. Here’s this week’s arrangement: Monarda, Yarrow, and Shasta Daisies with Lemon Balm and Artemisia.

This morning I cut flowers for the drying rack, and my basket was so bright and pretty I had to take a picture.

Those will all end up in creations for gifts and the Etsy shop. Good things to come!

This post is sort of random, but I just wanted to share some pictures of the state of things here on the homestead. First of all, the hubster has built the most amazing raised beds ever:

The lumber came from a place near here that does custom milling. They sell their odd bits–edges, croked pieces, thin pieces, etc.–by the cord, for really cheap. The hubster used what he could for the boxes, and the rest he cut up in to smaller pieces for firewood. I love the log-cabin look of these beds. They’re each four feet wide, eight feet long, and probably two and a half feet tall–maybe a bit more? They come almost to my waist, so weeding is easy.

For soil, we did two things. We know someone whose mother owns a nursery. The nursery has a giant pile of cast off soil which they are happy to have hauled off. We mixed this with some well-aged manure, and the plants seem to like it. This solution isn’t perfect, from an organic standpoint, but it is, essentially, free–other than lots of manual labor, which I consider an alternative to an expensive membership at the fitness club, where I would never actually go.  Also, I like giving the cast-off soil a chance to be healed with composting and help from the weeds and worms and bugs and birds. The soil also brought lots of weeds . . . and that is actually a bonus, because the weeds are purslane, chickweed, wild amaranth, and lambs quarters–all very edible, very nourishing, and very delicious to our chickens. We eat them too, especially the chickweed and purslane (which I eat while I’m weeding, which makes weeding more enjoyable. Nothing like snacking as you go. Just try to brush all the soil off, since I don’t like the gritty texture!). But we can’t eat these weeds as fast as we can grow them, so I’m glad the chickens are happy to help us out. There’s also a lot of shepher’d purse, which I haven’t really used yet, but I find fascinating–and it’s easy to pull out, so not a big trouble. Better than the morning glory.

Also, the flowers and herbs are all growing beautifully. I’m delighted by this golden sage plant–one of several plants that came to live in my yard after I did some work for the owner of a local herb farm, and she traded me some lovely herbs for my time and labor.

It’s just so PRETTY! And it smells so lovely. And of course, the comfrey is abundant–as always–and draws lots of bees:

This rose is so vibrant it looks almost fake. The insides are vivid yellow, and it smells nice too, for a hybrid variety.

And finally, we have crazy amounts of yarrow this year–all shades of pink, cream, white, and yellow with touches of peach. I can’t decide which is my favorite, but this pink variety is exciting:

We are working hard to keep the thistles and morning glory from swallowing everything up, and today we spent a lot of time getting the soaker hoses rearranged (I moved several plants this spring, so the old hose configuration wasn’t working anymore).

We are having a few problems of course–we had some little flying pests harassing our arugula, but the beer we put out to divert the slugs helped with those. We haven’t eradicated the slugs, but I think we’re managing to keep their damage to an acceptable minimum. And unfortunately our turnips have those little wormy things–this is the worst problem. Anyone know what to do about those? I keep meaning to research it but getting side tracked. I’m no good at pest control . . .

But overall we’re having a wonderful season so far. And the hubster finished building the last three beds, so it’s time to start thinking fall and winter crops. Phew! I’ll be over here in a puddle on the floor, drinking some water . . .

So, the bulk of the first painting job is finished. (Sorry, I forgot to take primer pictures . . . but it wasn’t pretty anyway). But before I show you the paint job, I must first show you the biggest change that my friend M. made to the trailer when she was staying in it: the world’s most beautiful tiled “heart” for the itty bitty wood stove. Meet Greta, posing coquettishly in her pastel boudoir:

Isn’t she just sweet? And the tiles! I even like the pink. Friend M. is a genius, that’s all I have to say. She bought all these mismatched tiles at The Rebuilding Center in Portland, then cut all those teeny little squares and triangles and created the pattern herself. I think it is probably the most amazing renovation the little trailer will see. I’m hoping to get proper wood stove “paint” or whatever it is this summer and return Greta to her former blackened glory. I also need to take a broom to those tiles . . .

Okay, so, the paint job. Before I could paint, the hubster put up a new portion of wall in the kitchen for me, and built a little extra section of counter between the hearth and the stove:

The counter used to end at the edge of the stove. So now I get a bit more counter space, and there’s a perfect place underneath to tuck the garbage can, when I get one. Oh, and, see that nice big sink? Friend M. and the Hubster put it in, as the former sink was a tiny, shallow thing that you couldn’t even wash a skillet in. This meant also installing a new counter top, which is, right now, just some half inch plywood. At some point I plan to cover it with . . . something . . . but I’m not sure what, yet, so I figured some paint would at least protect the wood. You can see I still need to put the hood for the stove back in, and put the outlet covers back up. Here’s a photo from a view you might recognize from the last post, now in green:

VERY different from before! There will be cabinet doors, in the future; I still need to paint them. You can see I got the kitchen drawers painted and put back in place. The cabinet doors will be a long process. I’ll get another picture when they’re all done.

And here is the other direction, with my messy work space and the still unpainted “loft” area:

As you can see, I couldn’t wait to put the drying rack in place. There’s a cabinet door on the chair, awaiting it’s second coat of green paint.

This next picture is the same direction. to my left; more cabinets, and the basket nook, which will have more baskets in it once I bring them out:

The cubby with the CD player doesn’t get a door, so it will be painted eventually. I’m saving it for last, since it’s currently the only safe place for the CD player, and I can’t work without either music or a book on CD. I listened to Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love while I was priming and painting (I loved it, by the way).

So there it is. Special thanks to my friend T., who spent most of Sunday helping me paint!

I had to use a flash to take these photos, since it’s gloomy outside and I don’t have good lighting in the trailer yet. The green looks sort of minty on my monitor, but in real life it’s more sagey. And the ceiling is actually an oatmeal color, though on my monitor it looks white.

I can’t wait for cabinet doors. Then you won’t be able to see the f aux wood paneling inside the cupboards anymore. I might, at some point, paint the insides, but I’m just not that much of a glutton for punishment right now!

So, I have been busy this week working inside my new herb house/art studio/yoga and meditation outbuilding; which is really a circa 1979 fifth wheel trailer.

This trailer has been through many owners in its life, the last of which was my good friend M., who stayed in it on our property for a while. These photos were taken when she was getting ready to move in, and just starting to do some work on the place.

The photo above is the view from the kitchen in to the bathroom. The bathroom is not functional at all right now, but the kitchen is, except for the oven, and there’s no hot water heater installed. But the fridge works, the sink works, and the range works. So that’s good. Note the lovely faux brick paneling, mostly painted white, but some of the original is visible in the cupboard at the top right of the photo.

Here is the Polly Pocket bathroom. See that little square in the corner? We’re pretty sure the owners before M. intended to put the shower in there. It’s less than two feet square. They must have been really skinny.

Here you see the RV toity. See that little space next to the potty? Yeah, that was  bathtub. It was maybe three feet long? Perhaps it was owned by feral children? I failed to get a photo before we removed the tub. The sink is also miniature, a tiny stainless steel bowl of a sink.

Here is the view in the other direction, with a very helpful Drama Princess vacuuming the lovely grey carpet. Mmmmmmmm, sanitary.

So, M. did a lot while she was here, and the hubster and I helped some. Here is the sleeping nook (which will be my yoga/meditation/dreaming/reading space) after she put primer on the brown paneling:

Already a decided improvement, no? Next we tore out the carpet, because, can you say “unclean”? I thought you could . . .

Yeah. Makes me want to never have carpet in my life ever again.

That’s most of me on the left, and friend M. on the right. The plywood under the carpet is actually in decent shape.

The carpet on the lower level is also gone, but the floor is in bad shape. After I paint, we’ll do something about the floor. Once I finish with the primer, I’ll get some more pictures and post them.

I’m excited about this space. I’m excited about having designated space for my mess-making. I make lots of messes, all of them worthwhile, but that doesn’t matter much when they’re eating the house. The tiny kitchen is just big enough to make tinctures and oils and vinegars and salves, and also cups of tea for myself and my friends when they come to visit. I can store extra infused oils in the fridge, so that we can have the fridge in the house back. There’s a great little pantry cupboard where I can store quarts of tincture, so we can get some cupboard space back in the kitchen. And best of all, all the dried herb bits will now be scattered over a floor that is easily swept and mopped, rather than all over my living room carpet.

And the best part? It’s mine, all mine. It has a door that locks. I don’t have to share it with anyone. I have complete control over this place. If there is broken glass on the floor, if the dustpan is covered in peanut butter and languishing in a pan of dirty water in the sink, if the counter is covered in day old, sticky jam, if dirty towels are on the floor–I will know exactly who did it, and why.

And if we ever leave this land and go somewhere else, I can take my little herb house with me. I’ll be the Portable Herbalist! Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

I need your help.

I’ve encountered the most amazing plant/shrub/bush/tree in the woods, and I’ve searched and searched  and I can’t figure out what it is.

It’s growing on a hillside in a montane habitat; probably 30 to 50 feet up from the shore, where the creek feeds in to the lake. There are actually three or four of these; I’m not sure if they are bushes or  young trees. They’re between three and six feet tall, I think.

Here’s a picture of the leaves and you can see some flowers peeking out:

Here’s a picture of some of the young twigs; I thought their shapes, and the weird little knobby bits, were sort of interesting:

The “trunk” or larger branches have rougher, more speckled and bumpy bark. And now, for pictures of hte amazing, tiny flowers, all smaller than my thumb nail.

Note how the one above has only four petals, and the middle bit has only four sections? (Sorry, I really need to learn my botany terminology, I promise I will some day). All the other flowers I photographed have five petals and five segments in the middle. Interesting, huh?

The picture above is, obviously, the back/underside of the flower, plus one tight shiny little bud.

Anyone have any idea what this is? Other than stunning . . .

On my daily walks, I started noticing this pretty foliage, almost frilly. Similar to columbine, but not quite the same. I wondered what it might be, and kept an eye on it every day.

I didn’t have long to wait; it bloomed not long after I started watching it. And–wow. I’ve not seen anything quite like this before:

It took me a while to find out what it is. Western Meadowrue (Thalictrum occidentale). It bears male and female flowers on separate plants; I wasn’t able to get a decent picture of the female flowers, but you can see a really good one here. I’m amazed by these plants; no petals at all, just sepals and stamens or pistils, depending on the plant. The male flowers look like delicate little tassels, and they swing in the slightest movement of the air (making them really difficult to photograph).

I had trouble finding information about these plants on line. I haven’t yet combed through any wildflower books to see if I can find them; none of my herb books say anything about them. I did find this brief article, with some interesting information. But it drove  home to me a realization of how little I know about the plants native to my home soil; most of the herbs I’m familiar with are imports from Europe and the Mediterranean.

I’m still watching this little beauty; the flowers are fading now, and I can’t wait to see what the–fruits? Seeds? Are like. I’ll keep y’all posted.

I first met Wild Ginger (Asaraum caudatum) in the woods near Vernonia, Oregon, several years ago. I was captivated  by the fragrance; though it’s not related to the tropical ginger we northerners know only from the grocery store, the fragrance of the leaves and rhizomes is identical. Imagine my delight to come across it in the woods on my daily walk. It’s a fascinating plant.

Here’s a nice look at one of the leaves; it looks almost sparkly from a dusting of maple tree pollen. They have a wonderful color, this light fresh green when they’re  young, darkening to a richer, darker green.

The flowers are dark purplish brown, and hide at the base of the plant; if my guidebook hadn’t told me they were there, I might not have noticed them that first time. They lay on the ground; it’s hard to get a look at the inside.

A little, bristly, bulbous cup with petals that stretch out like insect feelers, it looks almost alien, or like it should be a the bottom of the ocean instead of in the woods.

Medicinally, it is similar to the aforementioned tropical ginger. I won’t harvest any of it though. Wild ginger grows in habitats that are rapidly disappearing, and is vital to the ecology of the forest floor. Its rhizomes provide much needed aeration for soil that is easily compacted. I just love seeing it, smelling it.

Especially that wonderful little mandala in the middle.

Getting a look at it usually involves crouching or kneeling on the damp forest floor, getting my knees muddy. I always get the weirdest looks from other hikers when they come upon me in the dead leaves at the edge of the trail, bent over a plant. Especially if I’m not paying attention, and they catch me talking to the plant. But I suppose this could be a good thing; if they think I’m crazy, they aren’t likely to bother me. I don’t mind being the crazy lady in the woods; she’s always the most interesting character in the story anyway.