Magic Mushroom

Every summer, this huge, orange fungus springs up practically overnight underneath one of our oak trees.  It's pretty, but I had no idea what it was till I read an article written recently by a friend.  (I would link to the actual article, but it seems to have disappeared from her web site.  I will have to let her know about this.)

This thing is huge ... 3.6 pounds huge!

Chicken of the Woods.  A mushroom that sprouts from dead wood in the summer.  This was my first experience with mushroom foraging, so I was a bit nervous.  In our Facebook conversation, Marianne was positive about the ID, and she said, "FANTASTIC!!! And very edible.  Enjoy!"

All I had to do to ready this behemoth to cook and eat, after I harvested it from the yard, was to break it apart, discard the center woody bits, wash the pieces and let them dry.  I test tasted a few small pieces, after I cooked them thoroughly in a little bit of butter.  YUMMY!!!

The massive mushroom yielded four one-quart plastic bags full of pieces ... two for me, and two that I shared with friends.  For supper that night, I made steak and broccoli stir fry, with a good-sized helping of Chicken of the Woods mushrooms added to it.

Thin slices of mushroom cooked first ...

... then I added the steamed broccoli and grilled steak.

For breakfast this morning, I made mushroom and cheese omelettes.

About That Portrait ...

Thank you for the kind compliments about the portrait that our friend, Dan, painted of me.  This morning, I'm going to let you in on an interesting connection between this painting and a portrait that my husband painted of Dan's husband, Jim.

Dan took the reference photo of me at his house in their music room last spring.  This room is also where I snapped the photo of Jim that my husband used for his portrait.

Look at the reference photo for my husband's painting, and you will probably figure out where I'm going with this story.

Notice the vase of dried flowers?  Both of these photos, and the resulting portraits, quite coincidentally, ended up almost as two halves of the same whole image.  (Offering a very bad Photoshop image to illustrate this.)

Dan took dozens of photos of me that day, some in their music room and some in his studio, and I love the fact that he chose this one ... and he unconsciously created a special connection to the portrait of Jim, which makes me love it even more.

Remembering Doug

Reverend Douglas Seidel passed away three days ago, early on Saturday morning, October 3.  He leaves behind an army of friends and family ... and I am proud to count myself among his friends.

This is the only photo I can find of Doug and me.  It was taken in Lynchburg, in 2011.  That's Doug in the center of the back row.

I remember when I first heard about Doug.  I was reading In Search of Lost Roses by Thomas Christopher, not long after I discovered the wonders of old, unknown roses, some time in the early 2000s.  The author described how Doug, as a teen, partnered with Leonie Bell (who is not mentioned by name) to travel the Pennsylvania countryside to document and collect roses at abandoned sites and in cemeteries ... does this sound like someone else you know?

Photo of Doug with "Hollywood Pink Cluster" in 2001.

Photo by Peggy Cornett.

"Hollywood Pink Cluster"

I remember the first time that I saw Doug in person.  He was the banquet speaker at a district meeting of the ARS's Colonial District in Staunton, Virginia.  Doug's program was mesmerizing, and I remember sitting there in awe of the history of our repeat-flowering roses and their origins in the ever-blooming roses imported from China in the late 18th century.  I don't think that most of the audience that evening fully appreciated who he was or what he had to say.  

I did not approach Doug that evening, as I tend to get a bit tongue-tied when I'm around people that I admire.  I used to rationalize that it was best to remember a pleasant evening, rather than regret having said something completely stupid.  (I'm not so much like this anymore, thank goodness.)

A group of rose lovers, including Doug, Dennis Whetzel, and Peggy Cornett, in front of the "Crenshaw Musk Rose" at Hollywood Cemetery in 2001.

Photo by Kent Krugh.

"Crenshaw Musk Rose"

I remember when I first spoke to Doug.  It was the morning after that program in Staunton.  I was on the hotel elevator ... the elevator stopped at a lower floor, the door opened, and there was Doug.  I had been mentally kicking myself for passing on the chance to meet him in person the night before, and I was not going to let this new opportunity slip by.  I introduced myself, told him how much I loved his program, and we then spent the next two hours in the hotel lobby talking and getting acquainted.  I still get goosebumps when I think about it.

Doug and I exchanged contact information as we parted that day, and we promised to keep in touch.  He stubbornly refused to use computers, relying mostly on hand-written notes and phone calls.  I always had a notebook nearby and a pen in hand whenever I spoke to him, whether in person or on the phone, because I never knew what our conversations would be.  What to him may have been a tired story or insignificant fact, could be a valuable clue to to some mystery that I may have been thinking about.  I wanted to make certain that I remembered it all.

Doug with "Red Smith's Parish" at Presidents Circle, Hollywood Cemetery.

Photo by Kent Krugh.

"Red Smith's Parish"

Through my friendship with Doug, I have met many more like-minded rose people.  It is through him that I got to know the people at Monticello's Tufton Farm.  Doug was the force behind the Leonie Bell Noisette Garden, where I have been working for the past few years to help preserve the roses there.  Some of the plants in the Bell Garden were Doug's own, donated as a tribute to Mrs. Bell (he always called her Mrs. Bell), his mentor who nurtured that curious young man and helped him awaken a lifetime love of old roses.

Doug with 'Alba Odorata Bracteata' in Hollywood Cemetery, 2001.

Photo by Kent Krugh.

'Alba Odorata Bracteata'

I remember when Doug told me that he had been diagnosed with cancer ... an aggressive form of prostate cancer that had already spread to his bones.  He and I kept in touch regularly during that time, as I was a link to Tufton and to Hollywood Cemetery, and he listened intently as I told him of my work in both of those places.  He told me over and over of his experiences there and other places ... and I took notes.  

Doug had hoped to see the Bell Garden again, but he never did.  He took comfort in the fact that the rare roses planted there are safe, having been propagated and shared with individuals and nurseries.  (I still have a few roses there to propagate, which I hope to do in the next couple of weeks.)

Doug and the group with "Oak Avenue Tea" at Hollywood Cemetery in 2001, which he identified as 'William R. Smith'.

Photo by Kent Krugh.

"Oak Avenue Tea" ... aka, 'William R. Smith'

I remember one of the last times I talked to Doug.  It was in June of this year, after I sent him a surprise package full of roses and photos.  (He had been scheduled to speak at the rose festival at the Old City Cemetery in Lynchburg, but he had to cancel because of his health.  I was going to bring roses to him, unknown roses from my garden and from Hollywood Cemetery, for him to identify.)  He said that he was so excited to open that box ... full of old friends, as he called them.  One of the things he told me is that my "Tidewater Trail" is a rose that he has found in many places throughout his part of Pennsylvania.

Doug and Dennis Whetzel, identifying roses during the Open House at Tufton Farm, 2011.

I will remember Doug as a friend, a mentor, and a confidante ... someone from whom I learned so much, who awakened and nurtured my own love of roses and of discovery.  I will be with Doug's friends and family as we will gather this weekend, to remember him and to say goodbye.

I will ALWAYS remember Doug ... with my memories and notes, through continuing friendships, and with some of his roses that live in my garden ... and I will always think of him and smile.

Thirty Days of Mr. Rogers ... Day Twenty-Two (and Twenty-Three)

Mr. Rogers said, "If the day ever came when we were able to accept ourselves and our children exactly as we are and they are, then, I believe, we would have come very close to an ultimate understanding of what 'good' parenting means.  it's part of being human to fall short of that total acceptance --- and often far short.  But one of the more important gifts a parent can give a child is the gift of accepting that child's uniqueness."

I spent the day away yesterday, meeting friends that I don't see often.  First stop was an antique shop that I have never been to ... bought this painting to add to my collection of amateur rose paintings ... it's painted well, but it's pretty awful at the same time ... just the way I like them!

"It's not always easy for a father to understand the interests and ways of his son.  It seems the songs of our children may be in keys we've never tried.  The melody of each generation emerges from all that's gone before.  Each of us contributes in some unique way to the composition of life."

Our other stop was at Albemarle Cider Works, where they grow heritage apples and make fantastic cider.  This is what I brought home ... a mixed half-bushel of apples for eating and for pies (York, Stayman, Gold Rush, and Albemarle Pippin), two bottles of hard cider, and a half-gallon of fresh cider.

Me:  We have three daughters, all grown now.  Each of them has a very different personality than either of their sisters ... the challenge in parenting them has always been to respect those differences but not go crazy catering to each one's preferences and tendencies.  They are very close in age, and it would have seemed natural to treat them as a homogeneous unit all the time.  Not doing this allowed each of them to develop into their OWN person, while still maintaining the connection as a member of our family.

************
During the month of November, I plan to share wisdom from Mr. Rogers with you each day (from the book "The World According to Mr. Rogers") ... Mr. Rogers's words accompanied by everyday images from life here at Hartwood Manor ... this place that I am blessed to call HOME.

Sunday Snapshot: Cupboard Envy

Whenever we visit our friends Jim and Dan, I make sure to remind at least one of them that I will one day figure out a way to make off with the magnificent cupboard that is the centerpiece of their kitchen.  

It is an enormous thing, far too large for an average-sized room or home ... fully eight feet high and almost as wide, with a superb original painted finish in a fantastic, indescribable greenish-greyish-smoky ocher color.  Those of us who paint furniture can only hope to create a surface with this much character.

For yesterday's luncheon, with 70 people in attendance, "my" cupboard held a secret (that you may have already noticed, since I neglected to close the cupboard's door before I snapped the lousy iPhone photo that began this post) ... the cupboard was completely chock-full of pies!

Jim makes a grand performance of having an unsuspecting first-time guest throw open the doors of the cupboard at the beginning of the entree course (yes, the luncheon is done in courses!).  He does this to remind everyone to save room for dessert ... and what a dessert it was!!!

As we were preparing to leave, and were thanking Jim and Dan for their hospitality, Jim said the magic words ... "Would you like to take a Doggie Bag home with you?"

And we did!

Have a happy Sunday, Everyone.

A Deal is a Deal

You may (or may not) remember when I told you about freezing my tail off in February as part of a garden club crew digging up the plants to rescue a fellow member's garden from certain destruction.  (Click HERE to see that post if you missed it.)  One of the plants I came home with that day was a rose, 'Rook', a relatively new Hybrid Gallica (once-bloomer) from Paul Barden.  I was given this rose in exchange for sharing photos of it when it flowered in the spring.  A deal is a deal, and here they are:

 

 

'Rook' is still in its pot (no surprise to those of you who know me well).  In spite of this, it is flowering profusely.  Each flower is magenta-grape-burgundy-purple, and the fragrance is heavenly!

 

 

 

I took one of the flowers with me last weekend, to show it to the rose friends that I was visiting.  All were amazed that it was a new hybrid.  ('Charles de Mills' x 'Chianti').

 

 

 

If its performance in the pot is any indication, 'Rook' is a winner!  I have already chosen its spot in the garden, and I hope to have it planted in the ground very soon.

 

(Thank you, Mark!)

  

Keeping It in the Family

Look what I brought home yesterday.

 

 

My friend Robert gave this beautiful Victorian fainting couch to me ... it's a family piece that originally belonged to his great-grandmother.  He is selling his house, and is drastically down-sizing, and he couldn't bear to see it go to a stranger.  To be honest, I don't quite know what I'm going to do with it.  Its details are beautiful, and it still wears its original velvet upholstery ... I know there has to be a spot in this old house where it will fit and look good.

 

 

 

I just have to figure out where that spot is ... and vacuum it really well before I bring it into the house, because it's dusty as all get out.

 

This new chaise of mine reminds me of a photo that I use as the cover for one of my Pinterest boards. 

 

 

I can toss on a quilt, and add a couple of pillows ... yep, I think that's exactly what I'm going to do!

 

After Yesterday, I Thoroughly Understand 'Wind Chill'

Yesterday was a lovely sunny day, with a high temperature of 32 degrees (0 for our Celsius friends) and a steady strong wind.  Wind chill temperature was down well into the 'teens.  Where was I?  Not snuggled in the warmth of my house ... no, not I.  I was in northern Virginia with a group of about a dozen garden club members, digging up the garden of a fellow member who is moving.  (This wonderful effort was organized by Jim, the fellow in the bright blue jacket.  He is our fearless leader and someone that I am infinitely thankful to call my friend.)

This garden was a wonderful 19-year collection of plants, artfully chosen and skillfully shoe-horned into a narrow city lot.  The object of our day was to leave as little behind as possible, since a garden like this can only exist in the presence of its gardener.  The owner was keeping a bare minimum of sentimental plants.  Everything else was up for grabs.

 

 

We met at noon, and quickly got to work.  Many of us brought along as many spare, large pots as we could, to pot up the plants as they were dug.  One member had filled his truck with compost to use as potting mix ... Carol and I volunteered to be the potting crew.  She and I used the tailgate of the truck as our potting bench, and we worked quickly to pot and tag each plant as it was brought to us by the digging crew, as they proceeded systematically through the yard.

 

 

 

Within a few hours, the sidewalk and part of the street in front of Mark's house was packed with pots of plants of all sizes ... small trees, shrubs, perennials, bulbs, and roses.  Those of us on the crew were welcome to take what we wanted, and the remainder was moved to a member's house to be stored for the club's plant sale in the spring. 

 

 

 

My goal was to support the club effort, lend my labor to the project, and bring home as little as possible. You won't be surprised to hear that my 4-door Jeep was packed completely full of plants on the drive home (to the point where I couldn't see out of my rear view mirror). I blame the cold for my lack of restraint ... plus there was the encouragement of fellow gardeners who said things like, "You HAVE to have this", or "No, you go ahead and take it."

 

 

 

 

I made a list of my plants as I unloaded them into the sunny protected spot beside our house.  I am thankful for the labels we wrote for each plant, so I know exactly what is what ... and I should have no trouble siting each of them where they will grow and perform best. 

 

Thank you, Mark, for sharing your garden with us.  I will think of you throughout the year as these plants grow and become a part of my own garden.  Thank you, also, to the Four Seasons Garden Club for being so generous with your knowledge and experience ... you are helping to encourage this rosarian to become a much more well-rounded plants person.

 

My Plant List:

Rose 'Rook' (Gallica hybrid)

Camellia 'Londontowne Blush'

Camellia 'Autumn Moon'

Camellia 'Autumn Carnival'

Camellia 'Korean Fire'

Camellia, unknown sasanqua

Arum italicum

Acoris 'Ogon'

Helebore foetidus

Lycoris radiata

Daylily 'Penny's Worth'

Iris 'Low Ho Silver'

2 pots of crocus

a lovely Serviceberry tree

3 unknown Clematis

Daffodil 'Rijnveld's Early Sensation'

2 pots of Colchicum (autumn crocus)

2 large 'Nikko Blue' hydrangeas

and a spectacular Viburnum carlesii compactum!

 

If you are looking for me today, check outside because I have a lot of holes to dig.

 

 

Sunday Snapshot ... Fleeting Beauty

I looked out the dining room window early in the morning.  The sun was barely over the trees and everything was sparkling with a dusting of frost.  The pattern on the top of my pick-up truck was beautiful.

 

 

It only took a few minutes for this fleeting beauty to disappear.  As the sun rose a little higher in the sky, the frost melted and the lacy pattern was gone.

 

 

I hope your weekend is a good one.  While you are in the midst of doing whatever you're doing, take a minute to look around ... beautiful things are everywhere ... you just have to look for them. 

What am I doing today?  As soon as I am finished here, I have to bundle up in warm clothes, gather my garden tools, and hit the road toward northern Virginia.  My garden club is helping to dismantle the garden of a member who is moving.  Spending the afternoon in the company of other plant lovers, digging in dirt (and, perhaps, bringing home a new plant or two) ... what a great way to spend the day.

Happy Sunday, Everyone!