You’ve all been there. One second the pumpkin is a teeny little unobtrusive juvenile and you turn your back and he’s a wild teenager scrambling up walls, under bushes, over sidewalks, into tomato cages and under the arugula. Lordie! It’s enough to give a mother a heart attack. Ha ha ha. Hee. Actually, truth be told I don’t think there’s a thing more fun to grow. As you can see in the photo at top my one and only (who needs more than one??) has made his way over into the Child’s Corner, built primarily for fairies and any other sundry critters who are so inclined to stopover. It’s always good to build these little respites for little sprites and other-worldly creatures. I’m sure you do same. Anyway, the pumpkin was drawn that way and is charmingly entwining itself twixt the chairs, the table and the chartreuse iron sculpture I incorporated last spring. (Dontchajustloveit?) From one sole pumpkin are extending five large long arms, each in a totally different direction. Thank goodness there is room for such shenanigans! Here’s another that has wound its way into the vege bed, through the chard and around a young red hollyhock. Enchanting, you must admit…

And resting comfortably under a rosemary bush, near a volunteer nasturtium, is this plump green one promising a lush harvest in October or November! Oh, I love it!

To be honest I don’t have a clue how many pumpkins this one plant has generated. I spent weeks in a state of frustration as in spite of an abundance of big yellow flowers not a single one was turning into fruit. I resorted to googling the condition and took heart when I read of someone having same problem. It was patiently explained that the male flowers [clue-straight stems] bore no actual fruit, but that often after the arms had extended out the precious female flowers would produce actual pumpkins. Who knew? In spite of having grown many kinds of pumpkins in the past I’d never actually learned that. So my hope got stoked and sure enough eventually the flower stems starting looking rounded and, well, pregnant! Whoopee! Since then that single pumpkin has gotten so complex and wild I have literally lost track of how many I might get this season, but I’m confident there will be enough for pies and jack-o-lanterns. The important stuff. Oh, yes, and pumpkin bread, for which I am known among a select circle and in a minute I am going to share my recipe with you!
Yes, I am. Meanwhile, here’s another promising charmer…

My (Native American) electrician’s wife is Hispanic. She visited my garden recently and encouraged me to eat the male flowers, which would have made that early period much more agreeable and productive, I must say. The Hispanics steam them and eat them with cheese, I do believe. If anyone has any solid recipes, please share. I need guidance. As attractive as eating flowers always sounds my aculturation dominates my actions and I hesitate on the brink of Trying Something New. Oh, boy. I’m sure they’re delicious. Help me get there.

Yummy flower–I’m sure it is.

And now for the good stuff.

Pumpkin Bread

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 9″x5″ loaf pan. (I use butter.)

Whisk:

1 cup wholewheat flour
1/2 cup white flour
1 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg (use whole nutmeg!)
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon baking powder

Combine in a cup:

1/3 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla (use the real thing)

In a large bowl, beat until creamy:

6 tablespoons unsalted butter

Gradually add to the butter:

1 cup sugar
1/3 cup brown sugar (or you can try 1/3 cup molasses)

Beat in two eggs.

Add and beat on low speed, just until blended:

1 cup pumpkin puree
[Note: ideally you’ve grown your own pumpkin which you’ve steamed and mashed.]

Add the flour mixture in three parts, alternating with the milk mixture in two parts, mixing with a wooden spoon.

Fold in:

1/2 cup raisins
1/2 cup chopped pecans

Scrape the batter into the pan and spread evenly. Bake until a toothpick comes out clean, about one hour. It could be a teeny bit more. Allow to cool before cutting. Use a dollop of whipped cream for special holiday treat!

Embrace the beauty of Indian Summer and the ensuing harvest, my dears. As the Earth’s energies recede back into the Earth for renewal and regeneration, mysteries surface and abound.

Love and garden blessings,
Kathryn xxoox
Footnote: for exciting updates on the Scarf Initiative please scroll down!

Posted on September 12th, 2008 by Kathryn
Filed under: Plants | 28 Comments »

All photos courtesy Central Asia Institute

I must admit it is a huge stretch of my imagination to get inside the mind of a person who hears of the second highest mountain in the world and wants to scale it. While the beauty of this mountain is undeniable, I would not ever be feeling the pull to put on the proper gear and head out. You know? But mountain climber Greg Mortensen, bound to a far different call than I, did precisely that. He was motivated in part by grief, the grief of having lost his little sister. The thought of reaching the peak of K2, in remote Pakistan, and leaving a small personal treasure she had bestowed on him prior to her death seemed like a lofty tribute to her life. And so he went. That phase of his journey, on the surface, did not End Well. Mortensen, exhausted and in a thin-air stupor, not only fails to reach his goal to reach summit, he barely survives his retreat. And then Things Get (even) Worse, as he gets separated from a local guide who is trying to get him to safety, and he loses his way completely. Two roads diverged on a glacier in Pakistan, and Mortensen’s life was irrevocably changed. Destiny rules as he is taken in by a tiny village into which he blindly stumbles, and where he slowly makes his way back to his recovery, in a simple mud hut, under the loving and watchful care of a wizened old man, the village chief of Korphe village, and his family. A bond is formed and out of Greg’s deep compassion and gratitude he makes a promise. As winter descends upon Korphe village and the inhabitants dig in for a virtual hibernation, Mortensen returns to Berkeley to work towards his new goal. While you and I were dreaming of a spring and summer filled with red tomatoes and green squashes and a multitude of flowers, Greg Mortensen was dreaming of a school. In Pakistan. In mountains that were deliriously high. For girls.

The incredibly unlikely and dramatic journey that unfolds is extremely well documented in Three Cups of Tea, so beautifully written by Mortensen and David Oliver Relin. This book is a treasure.

To reveal many details of Greg’s life as it transpires would be a travesty, so rich is this story so deftly told in Three Cups of Tea. The subtitle, One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace…One School at a Time, however, gives license to sharing these most incredible photos, all shared courtesy of the Central Asia Institute.

Hushe School, Pakistan

The girls of Lalander School in Afghanistan

And their school, Lalander School, in Afghanistan

Mortensen understands what Oprah Winfrey understands, that it takes educating the girls in any culture to create lasting change. Says Mortensen, “Once you educate the boys, they tend to leave the villages and go search for work in the cities. But girls stay home, become leaders in the community, and pass on what they’ve learned [to their children].”

Obviously many tests presented themselves to Mortensen in his aspirations. Can you imagine the locals’ perceptions (and concerns) of an “infidel” wanting to make changes in Central Asia? Yet, time and time again the purity of his heart and intentions, and his abiding respect for the culture are seen and lauded by the country he felt in his heart was his second home. They love him. I feel deeply moved to say that Mortensen is a light beckoning to the day when at last we all recognize that all human beings inhabit this same dear planet Earth, and it will be up to all of us to honor yet transcend our various cultural identities in order to protect the Earth and its inhabitants sufficiently to survive. As long as the old vanguard is rallying the cry of unpatriotism for caring about the broader spectrum of humanity our shelf life decreases. It is not either/or. It is both/and, my darlings. Mortensen, the son of missionaries, grew up in Africa, where his father was moved to build a hospital. The seed was planted for his journey before he arrived. Some of us will be called to “distant lands” to make a difference. This was his. Can you imagine the patience and love and skill required in this day and age to do this successfully? This is a must read book for all who hearken to this calling or, for that matter, any inspired calling.

Need more inspiration? Check these out.

Sitara School, in Pakistan

Greg Mortensen with the children of Sitara School

Baharak School, built by the villagers, under the guidance of Central Asia Institute

New school uniforms–for many the first new clothes ever received

The precious children of Torghu Balla, Pakistan

What impulse is moving through you, is calling you, towards making a difference? Who needs the blessing of having you in their lives? May these little children’s faces lead you there.

I so hope you will be moved to read Three Cups of Tea, which now holds a very special place of honor on my bookshelves.

Love and gardening blessings, whatever lofty dream you dream of planting…

Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.
Goethe

Kathryn xoxoox

Posted on August 27th, 2008 by Kathryn
Filed under: Book Notes | 32 Comments »