Soulful Soups For Soul Stirring Times

Posted on January 18, 2017 by Ann Lovejoy
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Soul Food

Don’t worry, I’m only going to rant for a little while here, and then I’ll serve up my latest batch of soups. Dr. Martin Luther King is very much in my thoughts this week as I and pretty much every female friend I have plan to spend next Saturday in Seattle. We’ll be participating in a silent Womxn’s March in solidarity with women marching in Washington DC and in over 350 sister marches across our own country as well as groups in 30 countries all around the world. I love that this march is less against than for: For human rights. For the health and wellbeing of our planet. For universal health care. For reproductive freedom. For free public education. For economic justice. For freedom of religion. For freedom of speech. And and and, but all FOR the most wholesome, healthy, free and just life we can create together.

I’ve also been inspired to make some wholesome, healthy AND delicious soups to honor people from other parts of the world who brought their own traditional foods to this country. I’ve been proud my whole life of America’s stated aim and high dream of becoming a place where refugees from everywhere are genuinely welcome, not just to assimilate but to share the riches of their own cultures and traditions with all of us other immigrants and the country’s original First People as well. I hope and pray that sooner rather than later, each wave of immigrants and refugees is truly celebrated as enrichment for the country and the world.

Southern, Northern, All Around The World

Ok, soup time. Winter chills always make me want to enjoy hearty soups like chili, of which there must be a million forms. Chili or any classic combination of rice and beans can make for a tasty and satisfying vegan meal that can easily be tweaked to suit your own taste. Personally, I don’t think think this one needs meat to make it fabulous but try it and see what you think. Black eyed peas and ham hocks are equally traditional folk fare that can be slow cooked or simplified for a speedier supper. If you choose the slow food version, soak dried black eyed peas overnight and simmer them to tenderness with a ham hock, or use canned cooked beans and chopped ham for a faster feast. And if you think collards taste like mud, use any of the many winter greens instead.

Black Eyed Peas And Collard Greens

1 tablespoon safflower oil
1 large onion, chopped
3 stalks celery, chopped (including leafy tops)
2 carrots, chopped
1 ham hock OR 1 cup chopped ham
2 cups soaked black eyed peas OR beans of choice
1 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
4 cups chopped collards OR chard, kale, etc.

In a soup pot, combine oil, onion, celery, carrots, and ham hock (*) over medium heat and cook for five minutes. Add soaked black eyed peas and water to cover by two inches, bring to a simmer, cover pan and reduce heat to low. Simmer gently until beans and ham hock are tender (an hour or two), add salt and pepper to taste, then add chopped greens and simmer for five minutes before serving. (*) If you use cooked black eyed peas and chopped ham, add the ham in place of the ham hock and cook for five minutes, add cooked beans and water to cover by an inch with salt and pepper to taste and bring to a simmer. Add greens and simmer for 5 minutes, then serve. Serves 4.

Spicy Rice And Beans One Bowl Soup

1 cup short grain brown rice
1 tablespoon avocado oil
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 large onion, chopped
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon cumin seed
1 large sweet potato, coarsely grated (about 2 cups)
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1-1/2 cups diced fire-roasted tomatoes (or 1 15-ounce can)
2-3 tablespoons chili seasoning (mild or hot)
2 cups cooked pinto or red beans, drained if canned
1 ripe avocado, thickly sliced
1/4 cup toasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds)
1 lime, quartered

Cook brown rice in a rice cooker according to package directions. While it cooks, combine oil, garlic, onion, salt, and cumin seed over medium heat in a soup pot and cook for 5 minutes. Add sweet potato and cumin with water to cover, cover pan and simmer until tender (10-15 minutes). Add diced tomatoes with juices, chili seasoning, and cooked beans and bring to a simmer. Heat through and serve in a deep bowl with a scoop of brown rice, garnished with avocado slices, pumpkin seeds, and a spritz of lime juice. Serves four.

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Reviving Frozen Plants

Posted on January 9, 2017 by Ann Lovejoy
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After The Freeze

As a series of cold fronts ripped through the Northwest, many of us struggled to shelter and protect borderline hardy plants. Draped with floating row cover cloth, sheets, or bubblewrap, temporary structures can provide a few degrees of frost protection, but when the ground is frozen, plant roots will certainly be affected. In many areas, the good news is that the ground was well saturated when the freezing weather arrived. Plants that are hit by a freeze when they and the ground are dry can suffer far more damage than those that are fully hydrated. However, prolonged freezes can leave evergreen plants freeze dried. Thus, when low temperatures leave the garden looking hammered, the first thing to do when a thaw sets them free is to water. Don’t be tempted to overdo it, though, since soggy soil can encourage root rots. If the freeze is broken by natural rainfall, you won’t need to water, but if a dry freeze thaws into dry, sunny days, do provide those poor plants with some relief.

Hardy perennials and many grasses will be just fine, though anything borderline tender that was cut back in autumn may not recover. It’s wiser to leave grasses alone until late winter or early spring; when you see new growth rising from the base, cut back the old stems to just above the green. Grasses that get a buzz cut in fall can rot away in a wet or very cold winter. With evergreens plants, the full extent of frost damage might not be immediately apparent, as deep tissue damage may not reveal itself until warmer weather arrives. It’s very tempting to start pruning off obviously dead stems and leaves, but resist that temptation. We may well get more deep frost before spring arrives and that dead material is all that protects possibly living tissue from another round of cold. Plants will do their best to heal themselves, so wait until March or even April to see what really happened.

Resisting Cold With Natural Sweetness

Winter kill comes in many forms, from root rots to exploding tissue. When warm sunny days encourage sap to rise, freezing nights can freeze that sap, which then bursts plant cells as it expands on the next sunny day. In drier situations, freezing pulls moisture from plant cells, leaving them freeze dried. Many plants have some degree of protection from this process because they create their own natural anti-freeze. Plants store sugars to nourish them over the winter and these help resist freezing as long as temperatures are over about 20 degrees F. Below that point, some plants can change up their biochemistry to keep their circulation going even in deep cold. Those that are acclimated to annual freezing can retreat into dormancy, slowing down their respiratory and nourishment cycles.

For the most part, our wisest choice is to do very little. Don’t prune, since removing dead bits only exposes any living tissue to more damage when the next frost hits. And definitely don’t feed anything, since it will do not good and may do active harm. As plants thaw, they do their best to restore themselves. Evergreen perennials that lost top growth may reappear and slowly rebuild strength; don’t let them bloom this season, though, as that takes a lot of energy that would be better directed toward rebuilding foliage and a root system. Woody plants may also lose top growth but some may sprout from the base or low on the trunk. Such new growth will appear by early summer if it’s going to, but in some cases, the new growth will be weak and very small compared to typical healthy growth or leaf size.

Hold Off On Fertilizer

Don’t try to feed winter damaged plants to encourage this new growth, as impaired foliage and roots often can’t process extra nutrients well. In fact, too much fertilizer too soon can kill fragile recovering growth, especially high-number commercial fertilizers. Instead, mulch with mature compost and wait until strong new growth appears before offering additional fertilizer. If new growth does look good, then do a little judicious feeding over the summer, using half strength fertilizer monthly but backing off in September so any new growth can harden off properly well before another winter arrives. A balanced 5-5-5 will provide plenty of nourishment without forcing overly lush new growth that can’t be well supported by a root system still in recovery.

Lawns may also be affected by a deep freeze, especially if the ground was already dry when the temperatures plummeted. Fescue lawns that usually remain green all winter may go dormant during a prolonged freeze and they too should be treated gently while convalescent. Leave the lawn alone until March, then rake in half an inch of mature compost, which will help eliminate any thatch build up. After a few rains, you can feed with a balanced 5-5-5 fertilizer and start mowing as needed. If you’ve been using a weed-and-feed product, just stop that; stressed lawns can be further harmed by the pesticides (and so can water and air quality, as well as the worms that keep our soil healthy, and birds, and fish down the line).

Evaluate And Act

By early summer, it will be obvious which plants are not going to make it. How long you wait to replace them depends on your own sensibilities; I used to nurse the winter wounded along well past the logical point of acceptance. These days, I’m far more apt to hoick failing plants out and consider well before planting the same thing again. Years ago, I found this very difficult and finally had to start leaving tags of dead plants in the ground to prove something to myself. I’d fall for a beloved plant yet again, bring it home, decide where it would look marvelous and then be bummed to discover a tag for that very same beauty right where I wanted to put the new one. Oh. Well, what about over here? Oh. Another tag. Hmm.

Maybe it’s a dawning maturity, maybe I finally got tired of my own stubbornness, but these days, I no longer try to please plants that can’t thrive in my gardens. Instead, I comfort myself by growing some of the thousands of plants that will happily grow in the conditions I can offer them. Frankly, I’m getting older and finding that I can’t spend a full day in the garden without some payback from my body. I’m finding plants that don’t need me very much far more appealing than those that dwindle or disappear. And happily, this new maturity assures me that reliable plants need not be boring or less lovely than elusive border beauties that are both costly and demanding. Sad? Not at all. In fact, the garden feels even more joyful to me when I’m not constantly mourning the dead. Onward!

Posted in Easy Care Perennials, Garden Prep, Health & Wellbeing, pests and pesticides, Pruning, Sustainable Gardening, Sustainable Living, Winterizing | Tagged , | 5 Comments

Changing The Cycle (And A Snack)

Posted on January 2, 2017 by Ann Lovejoy
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New Year. Again.

Yesterday, I sat down to write up some pleasing recipes that I developed over the holidays but what happened instead was…this. I did include one very tasty snacky thing, and will certainly offer more in the future, but for now, my heart is apparently so full it’s overflowing.

I used to find comfort in the swing of the year, in the idea of a new beginning, a fresh chance for change to emerge. Eventually a cycle of hard situations drained energy away from that little faith and left me without much hope. However, despite the obvious, not to say screaming probability of extraordinary challenges ushered in by this particular new year, I find myself swinging back toward a deeper, perhaps more truthful hope.

In correspondence with Carl Jung, one of the founders of Alcoholics Anonymous discussed genuine conversion experiences from addiction to freedom in terms of ‘ego collapse at depth’. Another term for this state is despair. Out of true despair, we can find our way to freedom, to hope, and to the ability to change. In seeking to bring progress to humanity (or humanity to progress), those of us who work for change are essentially trying to change human nature. The bad news is that it’s very difficult. The good news is that it’s working.

Making Change

And in fact, changing human nature is both difficult and simple. There’s a line in South Pacific that tells us we have to be carefully taught to hate, and that turns out to be largely true. When children are raised in a culture of kindness, the majority of them will become kind adults. When our cultures promote willful ignorance, bias, anger, mistrust and hatred, a significant proportion will become mistrustful and easily roused to anger and even hatred.

That’s horrible, right? Yet in this horror lie the seeds of true change, because for the majority of people, acting hatefully is not that easy. False hatred needs to be fed and fanned to keep it going. One on one, in personal interactions, in active listening, in seeking common ground, even heavily indoctrinated people may be brought into clarity and freedom of thought.

Which Brain Will Win?

Human brains are complicated but brain science teaches us that we all rely partly on a very ancient, reactive fight-or-flight brain pattern (sometimes called the lizard brain) as well as a newer and more deliberate, responsive, capacity to think, process, and understand. This newer brain (also called our monkey brain) allows us to communicate and feel empathy with others and to relate to experiences we haven’t shared. Our inner lizard is quick to retaliate to any perceived threat, quick to anger, and quick to strike. Our inner new human can take a moment to evaluate a situation, consider possible responses, and select one with benefits for others as well as for the self.

So where am I going? I’m guessing that the coming year(s) will hold many, many opportunities for ego collapse at depth as perceived goals are betrayed and unforeseen means are used to reach unforeseen ends. That time of brokenness is a time of opportunity for true, deep, and abiding change to occur. As Gandhi wrote: “If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. This is the divine mystery supreme. A wonderful thing it is and the source of our happiness. We need not wait to see what others do.”

Let’s Be The Change

It’s easier to use the shorthand version that’s usually attributed to Gandhi, and had he lived into our time of sound bites, perhaps he would have condensed his thoughts into that tidy little phrase. If it feels more natural to ask ourselves to be the change we want to see in the world, let’s do more than ask. Let’s do the work and be the people of change who make change possible. The world has teetered on just such a brink many times before but never before have so many people been educated, been exposed to so many divergent ways of thinking, been able to connect with many worldwide cultures.

Indeed, several billion people now own smart phones with the ability to fact-check (governmental agencies permitting). If willingness is not guaranteed, it’s encouraging that younger generations have a far broader sense of community than their grandparents. Change is coming, faster than many people can handle. So let’s become more compassionate, let’s be better listeners, and let’s never stop working for peace, for economic justice, for climate and environmental protections. After ego collapse at depth, a new tomorrow and a new world order.

A Most Versatile Snack

Some friends organized a progressive dinner on Saturday and at each house, we considered a thoughtful question together. Our responses–and the questions, which tended to morph quite a bit–went all over the place and I came home with a renewed sense of hope for the imaginative, creative future we will make with each other. I chose to be the first stop and spent an enjoyable day making more-or-less healthy appetizers. Here’s the one I liked best.

Spread this delectable mixture on thick slices of crisp Persian cucumbers, use it as a dip for fresh pepper spears, tuck it into pita pockets with chopped Romaine or shredded cabbage, or serve it over brown rice or wide noodles. Because goat cheese has less fat than the more usual cream cheese, this version of the classic spread is less cloying and artery clogging yet marries the various flavors with panache.

Smoked Salmon Spread

8 ounces soft goat cheese at room temperature
1/2 cup plain yogurt
2 tablespoons minced fresh dill
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon prepared horseradish
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/8 teaspoon smoked paprika
4 green onions, thinly sliced
4 ounces smoked salmon, skinned and flaked

Mash goat cheese with yogurt until well blended, then stir in dill, lemon juice, horseradish, salt, and paprika. Add green onions and salmon and gently fold until well mixed. Serve at once or chill until ready to serve. Refrigerate any leftovers for up to 3 days. Makes about 2 cups.

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The Wonder Of Winter

Posted on December 26, 2016 by Ann Lovejoy
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A Meditation On The Dark

I recently found this meditation in a file on my desktop. I’m not even sure when I wrote it, but with a little editing, it seems like a fitting message to send out in the terrifying dark and bitter cold of the passing of the year and a lot more. May it bring you a little ease, a little comfort, and a little gleam of light.

Like most gardeners, I’m a firm believer in celebration. Almost any event or occasion can be taken as an excuse both to make merry and to be consciously grateful together. The first snowdrops, the first flower on the hardy cyclamen, the first bright bells on the nodding hellebores, the first spangle of stars on the winter jasmine, all are cause for shared pleasure and appreciation. But sometimes the world seems too dark to be brightened by a bud or blossom. When I forget to celebrate, I forget to be grateful. When I stop experiencing gratitude, I also lose heart, strength, and courage.

Dreaming In The Dark

The mystic philosopher-musician, Abbess Hildegard of Bingen, told her flock back in 1142 that people were cast out of the original
garden for ingratitude and that being properly grateful was the way
back. Written in dark and dangerous times, Hildegard’s medieval hymns and prayers still offer genuine delight in what IS, rather than a plea for the provision of what is not. For gardeners, this kind of gratitude usually comes with ease. It takes a willing suspension of observation to walk unmoved through the garden in any season, surrounded by such astonishing beauty and such generously flowing abundance. Even in dim, cold winter, a seeker can find innumerable signs of life and change. Here, a new shoot, there, a fallen seed pod producing a thick fur of green sprouts.

Perhaps, for those with eyes to see, there is even more to be found than that. All my life, I have searched the winter garden for signs of spring, seeking the promise of warmth and beauty to come. It is only now, in (late) middle age, that I begin to understand that winter is to be appreciated for itself. This is not an easy gratitude, yet it feels even deeper than the spontaneous sort that cascades from happy hearts.

Winter As Nature’s Agent Of Change

This new understanding shows me that winter is not simply a passage between autumn glory and spring bounty. It is not only fallow. Indeed, winter is not empty at all. As sensible gardeners are fully aware, it is a time of rest and renewal, of slow and slumbering growth. It is a time for regrouping, consolidating, gathering strength. Winter has another face, one we usually think of as less benevolent if no less natural. Winter is a time for weeding out weak plants, or those not adapted to our climate. Where a hundred infant lilies passed peacefully into autumn sleep, maybe only thirty will awaken. Frost and root rots thin not only seedlings but mature plants that have passed their prime as well.

When a precious plant fails to reappear in spring, nature’s relentless purging can feel sorrowful. Indeed, I have sometimes replanted a particular favorite five or six times, unwilling to accept that I can’t grow absolutely everything I want to. Unwilling, too, to find an acceptable substitute in some of the few thousand plants I can grow with relative ease. When winter robbed me of a beloved dream, I often felt bitter against it, longing for warmer climes where winters are brief and gentle and summers are long.

Comfort Through Discomfort

However, winter is actually a time of enormous activity. If little is visible on the surface, a great deal is going on underground. Roots are lengthening. Pale shoots are inching upward through frozen soil, forcing their way up toward light and air. Embryo flowers are forming inside bulbs, their cramped folds tucked inside tightly compressed buds. This implicit burgeoning has a powerful symbolic resonance because it echoes our own patterns of change. We, too, go through such periods. Life may seem drab and slack, empty and blank, even dark and bitterly cold, yet under the skin, we may be full almost to bursting with hidden riches. That very fullness creates a pressure that can be experienced as pain. Indeed, in medical terms, pain IS pressure.

Emotional pressure can hurt as much as any physical sensation. The building urgency of impending change, as experience is slowly pushing wisdom toward birth, can cause acute discomfort. I have no idea how a plant perceives winter, but for people, there may be comfort in recognizing these times of slow, sometimes painful growth for what they are. Until that newborn wisdom breaks the surface of our awareness, relentlessly pushing like a stubborn daffodil puncturing pavement, it can feel as though nothing at all is happening. Because our impatient culture prizes the quick and the obvious, we may experience our inner winter as empty waiting, frustrating and without fulfillment.

Waiting For The Light

When only the pain is recognized, we blindly struggle against the process. How can we face down the dark if we can’t believe the light will really return? It helps to understand that even in that darkness, hidden changes are occurring. In the garden or in any part of life, raging against the night isn’t effective, but working for the light definitely is. When we can calm down and cooperate, breathing into the stillness, letting the inner light build along with those slumbering bulbs, we can listen and learn a lot faster. Blooming spring can’t come until solemn winter has prepared the way.

These days, I am celebrating winter for itself. As the old saw would have it, the sleeping garden looks half full and half empty, but in reality, it’s all full, full of roots and worms and potential and promise. When I want to hurry things along, I remember that a daffodil forced to bloom indoors in January may never recover. One that spends the winter building roots and rises to bloom in March or April will divide itself in a few years, splitting into several young bulbs. I’m remembering the power of patience and how seasonal delights are sweetest in their proper if fleeting season. This burgeoning awareness feels like a glimmer of maturity, and even in these darkest days and longest, bleakest nights, that feels like something genuinely worth celebrating.

Posted in Sustainable Gardening, Sustainable Living | Tagged | 8 Comments