The Garden of Eden, our Garden of Eden, has been neglected for far too long. Years, we think. And they say that gardening is good for the soul. It heals. I believe that. Every day I do a little more to cut back the rapidly growing trees, bushes, and vines. I will need a wood chipper very soon.
In spending time tending to each section, I’ve discovered how verdant the immediate area around the house truly is. It seems we have a ton of fruit trees, and they are showing signs of the crops we can expect this summer, and early fall.
The figs are almost ripe and ready to pick. Maybe next week. A fig and goat cheese salad 🥗 is in my immediate future. And, perhaps a session of making some fig chutney. Yum! Christmas presents? Hmm…
The plum trees are bursting. Still green, but the promise of a bumper crop is in the offing. A day of making plum jam on a summer day with the windows open and a breeze blowing through the kitchen. I can almost smell the fruit.
And the apricots are starting peek out. You’ll find me in our hammock this summer, swinging under the giant apricot tree, eating them until I am sick. But happy.
The cherries will be late this year, after a very cold spring. We should have bushels next month.
Grape buds are visible now. They used to make wine here, and I think I might just see if I can come by a couple of oak barrels – I have no idea how. La Casa Primera has a nice ring to it as a wine label. Since that is what people in town call our house. It sounds fancy but it just means that our house is the first one on the road. That, or they just call it La Casa Blanca. Since our house is white and it’s not normal here. At first, I thought it was because we were Americans. Either way, that name feels doubly taken.
My favorite are the red pear trees that seem to be churning out the fruit. You can almost watch them grow. Red pears, hard sheep milk cheese, some charcuterie, and my friend’s homemade gluten free bread. I can almost taste summer.
But tonight we are having rosemary chicken with garlic. And some roasted potatoes and shallots in olive oil. And it will come from this wild rosemary bush.
I wrestled it to the ground. It resisted being tamed, but it had to done. Bees were not happy with me about it and tried to intervene on it’s behalf. This poor hydrangea was being choked off and I love hydrangeas. Our wedding flowers. It needed rescuing. The rosemary I cut back will season our dinner tonight. And I am hanging up the big branches I cut off to dry in the wood shed. Not to use in cooking. I will never run out of fresh rosemary. But to use in the fireplace this winter.
A house filled with the smell of rosemary on a cold blustery day will be wonderful. On a day when all our trees have lost their leaves, the fruit long gone. It will remind me of this sunny day in May. When every tree held promise, and everywhere we looked was a brighter shade of green. Knowing spring is just around the corner. And it’s sweetness will be worth the wait.