Muddy Hands Bring Hope for Warmer Days

The snow has melted and we raked and cleared the front flower garden. 

After a long cold winter, today I got some dirt under my finger nails. While my backyard is still covered in snow, the sun has melted about half of the front, exposing one of my flower gardens. I raked away some pine needles leftover from fall and started to pull out some of the dried weeds. There was the oregano, still green. Paddy tore off a leaf and tasted and I followed suit. We both got on our hands and knees crawling as close as we could to the dirt. There was the raspberry vine; we'll move that to a better spot this weekend. We found a tiny silvery leaf of sage, on a thin-legged stem, poking out. With the sun on our backs, we worked our way around the small garden, picking and pulling and noticing. After some time, we got up and picked up branches and twigs shed by the scrub pines in the front and carried them to the fire pit in the back to be dried out in the sun; this weekend we'll make a fire.

Below the PVC pipes the snow is shoveled and the ground is thawing. Soon, I'll plant the snow peas.

Then we dug the ice and snow from the top of the compost pile, finding that the dirt below was soft and easy to dig into. A few feet away, we scraped out a line of snow where we'll plant our peas as soon as the ground thaws. We kept on this way until our feet were too cold and we returned inside, with muddy hands and knees.

Wild Visitor: Waiting for Gray Fox's Return

Thursday, July 31. 5:30 a.m.

The above image is not mine.

I sit on a small couch with my son Patrick squeezed beside me. He's watching My Little Pony on a laptop as I read. But, my periphery stands guard, looking out the front door.

I see a hydrangea flower, a lavender globe in the lower left of the door's frame; its backdrop is the grooved bark of a pitch pine, straight-backed and rising out of the frame.

Buddhist flags, a string of color (blue, white, red, yellow and green) cross the entire frame, ending before complete.

Beyond, a flower garden, a few orange lily buds yet to bloom, and a giant sunflower at the edge of the empty road, its face turned towards light to come.

I imagine the gray fox stepping into this frame as it did two days earlier.

I picture its shy but swift step materializing bit by bit from behind the pitch pine, crossing in front of the flower garden, under the flags, a moment so brief, as it comes-- and then I leap!

"What are you doing?'' Patrick calls, as I run to the door.

"The fox, I thought I saw the fox."

A tumble of gray limbs had streaked across the frame. I open the door and step outside.

The air is cold.

I walk around the corner of the yard, my nerves alert. I flinch when a branch cracks underfoot.

I look around the back, down the forsythia edge.

Was it a bird? I wonder. Was it my imagination?

I go back inside, returning to my place on the couch, next to Patrick, who returns to My Little Pony.

And I look to the pitch pine, under the Buddhist flags, and sense the moment is already gone.

Wild(ly good!) Meals: Stuffed Wild Grape Leaves & Iced Sumac Tea

With a summer thunderstorm yet to arrive, Patrick and I decided to head out, he secure in the back carriage as I pedaled the bicycle. My backpack held two plastic grocery bags, a small shovel, scissors, and a camera. I knew we'd have no problem finding the food we were after: wild grape leaves and staghorn sumac, both abundant on roadsides.
We rode around the corner, the back tire flicking up an arc of water from rain puddles (Patrick's carriage had a plastic windshield) and soon we stopped at a grapevine, twisted and clinging to black raspberry bushes, which Patrick and I had picked clean about two weeks earlier.

I plucked about 15 leaves as Patrick sat eating an apple in the carriage. I threw the shiny leaves in a plastic bag and pedaled on.
In no time, I saw the sumac, its distinctive red buds erect on the branches' ends. I pedaled over, reached up and grabbed a few branches, pulling each down in turn and snipping off their red flowers.

I dropped them in the backpack and then rode off again.
Having the plants we set out for, we just coasted around, feeling the warm humid breeze and watching all around.
Here's a pretty field we passed on the way.

And here are the recipes.

Stuffed Wild Grape Leaves

(Avoid common moonseed. It's poisonous, but you can easily avoid it.)

I start by boiling rice in salted water. I use a little extra water and boil a bit longer so the rice is sticky when cooked. Once finished, I mix the hot rice in a bowl with raisins and minced dill, basil and mint. I add salt and pepper until I like the taste. Sometimes, I sprinkle in a bit of cumin, too. Set aside.

I cut the stems off the grape leaves. You can save time by stacking a few on top of each other and cutting the stems off at the same time. 

Don’t stack too many, though, or you will cut too much off the bottom leaf.

Then, I blanch the leaves for about 10 minutes.

My Lebanese grandfather Ismael Ramadan (best name ever) taught me to pickle the leaves in vinegar before wrapping. You can skip this step, but the vinegar flavors the wraps with a nice tang.

I then place the leaves glossy side down on a table and scoop about a table spoon of the rice mixture onto the center of the leaf and then wrap using this process:

Fold the rear.

 Fold the sides.

Roll.

Once the grape leaves are wrapped, place them in a Dutch oven and cover them with water about half way up the leaves, and finish by covering them with a few leaves. 

Simmer the water and cover until the liquid evaporates, about 30 minutes.

Cool and then eat.

Iced Sumac Tea

(Note, avoid poison sumac; it's pretty rare and looks different--white flowers instead of red ones--than the edible kind but check this link to see what it looks like.)

I simply place the sumac buds into a pot of water, four cups or so. 

Then I place this in the sun and let it steep for about an hour. Every now and then, I squeeze the buds, bruising the flowers and pushing out the juices.

Once finished, pour the liquid through a strainer (I use a coffee filter placed in a halved milk carton) into a pitcher with some ice.

You can add sugar or not. The lemony taste will amaze you. It's wonderful.

Wild Visitors: Gray Fox

The teetering moment between night and dawn, fog wetting the air and circling the teepee of green polebeans which twists up like a wizard's cap on the soggy earth, a point among rumpled kale leaves, and then! And then! A gray fox, lighter than the fog itself, with a smoky tail trailing behind, steps through my field of vision and I rise and move swiftly to the door to see, but the fox has gone. I look in the tangled forsythia and behind the shed and at the edge of a small patch of woods, but nothing, only cool air in the blue morning.

Trials and Tribulations of Building a Bookshelf, Told Through Pictures

Lisa and I were in desperate need for a place to store books …

... and more books

… and toys.

So I began work on a bookcase with a toy bin, and started by cutting the shelves.

But I was soon stumped. I had wanted to make dado joints,

but I had to create a guide for the router. The guide keeps the router on track and from running amok. I searched YouTube for help, but most videos suggested using several vices and I only had one.

I tried a "traditional" method 

but the stones did not work

I cursed and then whispered: "I can't. I just can’t do it." This is the moment of crisis: When you realize that your ambition is greater than your knowledge and skills. As an aspiring writer, this happens to me all the time and it hurts.

I went inside and returned to YouTube to glean some knowledge and skills, but found nothing.

Then, I had an idea. (I love ideas.) I walked back outside, feeling inspired by a plan.

I grabbed a piece of plywood that was longer than the width of the two sides where I needed to cut the dado joints, and I screwed the plywood over the sides and into the table underneath, securing down the sides and creating a router guide.

And it worked. Riddle solved; knowledge and skills possessed (provided?). I cut the dado joints,

squirted wood glue in the grooves,

secured the shelves,

nailed one by four planks across the back

sanded and sealed with polyurethane

and the job was finished and books and toys had a new home.

Oftentimes, learning a new skill is a process of frustration and dread and this job was no exception. If you'd like to avoid the frustration and dread part, feel free to send me a message for more detailed instructions on how to build this bookcase. I would love to share with you.

Reader Tip: Finding a Nail in the Grass

In response to the post Projects Gone Wrong: Deck Stairs, Sandy gave a helpful tip: "Have you tried trawling with a small magnet tied to a string? That's how we retrieved old nails out of our lawn. (We had been removing nails from scrap wood we wished to save for firewood; lots of nails fell onto the lawn during that project.)"

Projects Gone Wrong: The Deck Stairs Saga II

Everything seemed to be going as planned as I nailed the stairs together.

I thought I was finished. I had figured out a way not to go to The Home Depot, as I had thought I was destined in my previous Projects Gone Wrong post.
To briefly recap, I had built deck stairs, but discovered upon completion that they were too steep and too shallow and because I did not have the needed wood in my woodpile, I thought I had to head to the hardware store.
But then a couple of days ago, my wife and I were making an emergency bathroom break for our three-year-old Patrick on our way to see my in-laws in Pittsfield when I noticed steps leading up to a door alongside a building.
"Box steps!" I called out to Lisa.
I often do this, calling out words connected to a conversation from hours if not days earlier.
"What?" Lisa said, looking at and around me as she walked Patrick up the stairs into the cafe with the bathroom.
"Box steps," I said, pointing at the example I had just seen. "I can build the deck stairs with box steps and I think I have the wood in the back; so I won't have to buy any."
"Oh," she said, shuffling our son Patrick inside.
I stayed there a second longer staring at the steps, imagining my upcoming project.

Box Steps, Almost Perfect

I'm not sure if "box steps" is the actual name for such steps, but basically this is what they are: They are made of several boxes, one built on the next, forming a series of steps. Although you cannot do this for high steps, if you have just a few, they make a clean, sturdy structure.
Basically, you build a box and then on the end, you lay two planks across the width on top; this becomes your lower step.
Then, you build a second box on the section without the planks, and then lay two planks on the end of that box; these become your second steps.

You keep this up until you have your desired number of steps.
I, however, failed to measure how long I should make the first box. To do this, I needed to measure the depth of each step and multiply that by three (because I had three steps); this would have given me the length of entire structure.
I often (nearly always) do this (screw up) when I build something for the first time and because I rarely build such things twice, my lessons collect dust until they are forgotten, which is about when I need to apply what I learned.
So, I had several two-by-sixes jutting out of the back of the stairs, which I needed to cut.
Sawzall!
Sawzall is the brand name for a reciprocating saw and if you do not have one, buy one. They come in really handy for awkward cuts.

So, with three cuts ...

... the stairs were cut down to size.
I nailed three two-by-fours to the  side and middle planks (see above photo) securing them in place.
Then, I nailed a two-by-four to the back and screwed the stairs to the deck.

Finishing (I believed at the time) I nailed down the top planks for the last step.

"You know what?" I said to Lisa as she sat on the deck feeding our infant Gabriel. "It's not centered."
In my haste I forgot to center the stairs in the opening on the deck. Lisa looked at me a moment.
"Eh," she said, with a shrug of the shoulders and a look of pity in her eyes. "It's not too noticeable."
"You're right," I said, ready to move on. "It's centered enough."
I stepped up the steps, testing out my creation, and then I looked down.
An empty sliver was looking back at me.

The stairs was missing a two-by-two strip of wood at the top, which I did not have in the woodpile.
"I have to go to Home Depot," I told Lisa. "I'll take the stairs out tomorrow and fill the gap in then."
"And before you put it back," said Lisa, "you can center it."
We'll see. ...