The Cold Edges

In January the white throated sparrows do not sing. Their song is high and sweet, and pierces the heart, somehow. When they do sing, you know that winter is leaving. I saw this one perched among bittersweet berries on the frozen edges of Jamaica Bay.

I was hoping to see snow geese, and testing an injured foot (how funny that you don't think of your feet until you realize that without them, you are lost).  There were no snow geese, but the usual mockingbirds were in residence, swallowing juniper berries and hunting for the last rosehips. Rosa multiflora is as rampant as it is on the East Coast because birds find the hips delicious. 

Canadian geese and seagulls perched on the ice, with downtown Manhattan rearing beyond them.

At home, on the dormant terrace, we see the same birds. Mockingbirds come to eat the blueberries I put out for them, and the sparrows, shelled sunflower seeds. Little juncos share the seed, and woodpeckers visit the suet feeder. Sometimes a raptor strikes, and feathers fly. The geese and seagulls are above, crossing the wide sky. 

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Gardenista: Pistachio-Fir Cookies

Outside

The late summer terrace, under a faintly wildfire-sky. The little bergamot tree has three fattening fruit, and some more small ones to follow. In the windowboxes, the African basil has grown so lush that each box requires twice-daily watering. It is besieged by bees who work through the twilight, while the chimney swifts and giant dragonflies swoop overhead. 

Bee balm

It's bee balm time again. I have grown Monarda fistulosa in pots but find that it is happier, in-ground. With a breeze and some grasses for company. In a tony patch of soil in front of our building a hot pink-flowered cultivar is very happy alongside agastache and fennel. (And yes, that entire four-ish square feet is vibrating with pollinators.

The stems, leaves, flowers, and seed heads can be used as a powerfully fragrant herb. Think oregano. But different. And cold-hardy.

Time for that summer caprese salad again. Recipe over on Gardenista.

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Endurance and Recovery

On the western side of our little terrace, African basil lights up as the sun dips.  It seems to be the most heat-tolerant of all the basils I have grown. Most really prefer some shade. But its windowbox still needs twice-daily watering.

Leaning across the laundry-roof void are Lilium 'Madame Butterfly' (I must buy more, they are reliable, graceful, and long-lasting as cut-flowers) and Graham Thomas.

Liatris just opening, and the source of the most scented rose petals, ever: Bolero. I layer the petals with palm sugar in a jar, crush, and forget. When you open the jar the sticky, amber syrup inside is essence-of-rose. Very good stirred into a long, cool drinks, and drizzled over chilled cubes of watermelon.

This is the first flush of roses since the shrubs were parched during a 10-day absence. We left the day after every single one was in full bloom, and came back to crisped leaves. A month later, they have recovered well, and are handling our week's heat indexes of 100 degrees Fahrenheit better than I am. 

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My Books

Picnic like you mean it

It has been a picnic-y summer, so far. This one was at Rockefeller State Park Preserve, after a walk I led, hosted by the New York State Department of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation. Our focus was on invasive edible plants, in the ongoing and evolving conversation about how to control them. There is no simple answer. 

Two focaccias (focaccie), featuring apricots and mugwort, a pea and fava bean spread with field garlic, cream cheese drizzled with lilac-infused honey that I made in Maine, tartlets filled with serviceberries, and a very delicious strawberry cordial - my favorite thing this season. It can be made with any soft fruit and a herb; so far, I have used ground ivy (recipe here on Gardenista), mugwort, and bergamot/bee balm.

Muggy, wrap-around humidity has arrived. The only good thing about our tropical summers is...chanterelles. We're going a-hunting.

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Clouds of fleeceflower

On a hill at Green-Wood Cemetery is a monument dedicated to the 148,000 New York soldiers enlisted in the Revolutionary War. Often, when I walk here, I imagine what the ground under my feet looked like, and what the sounds may have been, then, because this is where battles were fought. 

But what drew me to the monument this day was the cloud of giant fleeceflowers in bloom at its base. They are closely related to highly invasive Japanese knotweed, but apparently behave much better. Persicaria polymorpha: statuesque, yet floofy. In peak bloom, now.

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New Summer Walks

Graham Thomas

I think this was the best moment in May. A surfeit of roses. That doesn't happen often. I picked as many as I could and stuffed them into vases and bowls and kept a bowlful in the bedroom.

Their scent is described by David Austin as "a cool violet character." A good inscription for a headstone.

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New Summer Walks