Figs For Winter

Day 298: My first attempt at fig jam was, if not exactly a total failure, definitely not what I had intended. I had studied a variety of recipes and, being lazy, opted to go with one which used commercial pectin. Even though I measured the amounts of figs and sugar carefully, I wound up with a product only slightly thicker than syrup as a result of the proportions not being correct for the ripeness of the figs. This is a fairly common occurrence when using pectin to set jams made with apricots, peaches, figs or other low-acid fruit. After giving the jam 48 hours to set, I decided to remake it using the old-fashioned reduction method, i.e., boiling it down. However, I had at least another gallon of ripe, fresh figs in the refrigerator which needed immediate processing, so I decided to dehydrate them. I blanched them first to soften the skins, then cut them in half. They filled all eight trays of my 50-year old Harvest Maid dehydrator to capacity! At 135 degrees (the recommended temperature), they took a little over 50 hours to dry to a chewy state. Because they still contain some moisture, I've packed them in containers to be frozen for enjoying this coming winter. Meanwhile, I turned a third of the failed jam into a delicious thick and spreadable fig butter, supplemented with frozen figs from last year's harvest.

Fruits Of My Labours

Day 297: Much needed rain has fallen overnight, the first since the last day of June. The pluviometer registered 0.01" one dewy morning in July, perhaps weighted by a spider which had set up housekeeping in the idle drain. The garden is grateful for the moisture, as am I. A native to the Pacific Northwest, my nerves wear raw when they are compelled to endure hot temperatures and bright sunlight for any length of time. As I entered the Berry Pen through the kiwi-vine covered archway, a shower of cold beads fell on my head and shoulders, streaked my glasses, shattered on my exposed arms foretelling of autumn and its promised harvest of Sungold tomatoes and miniature cucumbers, benevolent drops whose touch was as welcome on my skin as on the foliage of my vegetables. Rain! Real rain! If I didn't have neighbours, I'd dance naked in it.

Twinberry Fruit And Flower

Day 296: Anybody want to hazard a guess as to why Lonicera involucrata's common name is "Twinberry?" I'll give you bonus points if you can name another common Lonicera, and you can win the grand prize if you can tell me the botanical term for the paired bracts immediately below the flowers/berries. Arnie, you'll have to be disqualified on the grounds of your professional standing. Sorry 'bout that.

This set of images has been a long time coming. For many years, the ripening of the berries served to remind me that I had forgotten to look for the yellow flowers in the spring. When I finally did get a photo of the paired flowers, I was deterred from going out to look for the twinned berries by the pandemic. You may notice that each tubular blossom has its own individual ovary ("inferior," i.e., at the base of the flower, as opposed to being inside the petals, "superior"). These ovaries are cupped by a pair of bracts (the involucre) which turns red later in the season, setting off the glossy black of the berries to best advantage. The fruit of this Honeysuckle relative is not poisonous, but neither is it desirable as a food. Birds and bears have been known to consume the berries, although they are not considered a primary food source for any species. However, Lonicera involucrata is shrubby, providing shelter and protection from predators for birds and small mammals.

While I Was Out...

Day 295: With gas priced at $4.09/gallon, I have to make any trip out count for as much as possible these days. On my way to harvest figs yesterday, I stopped by a city park to do an invasive plant patrol. After recording 21 instances in 40 acres, I still had time left, and filled it by walking an additional mile through a wetland area for a second survey. At the second location, I found Jewelweed (above) well on its way to establishing monocultures covering at least 10,000 square feet. Both sites are administered by city governments which have understandably tight maintenance budgets, but I have to wonder: where are the volunteers who would love to engage in weed-pulling? I work with several other groups with robust volunteer programs, so am baffled by why these city governments can't get teams together. Their laxity in controlling invasive species on their properties is allowing them to spread into the community where they will be much harder to eradicate.

Figgerin' It Out

Day 294: I think I've got it figgered out. Some of them will be eaten out of the hand. Some will be turned into jam, and others will be reduced to fig leather, and some may even be dried. Along with raspberries, I'm of the mind that figs are something you can never have too many of, although you might be inclined to consume too many when they come on with a flourish. These came from a friend's tree, along with enough frozen ones to fill a large cooler. The variety is Desert King, hardy here in the Pacific Northwest, and obviously quite productive, given the proper care. My own four-foot tree has yet to produce a single fig, so I am grateful for being allowed a share of Karen's harvest. Her tree is about 25 years old, fifteen feet tall and at least that wide. We barely put a dent in the number of figs on its boughs. Cooler weather is coming, so Thursday and Friday are allotted for figgering how best to preserve them, given the current shortage of canning lids in stores.

Update 8/4: Although it may firm up over the next few days, I don't think I got a good set on my first batch of jam. Consequently, the remainder of the fresh figs are now in the dehydrator, eight full trays. The frozen figs can wait for cooler weather.

Making Rag Rope

Day 293: First, I'm going to give you a tidbit of generational wisdom which was handed down to me by my mother who learned it from my grandmother. In their respective eras, products were not as readily available as they are today. Many items were repurposed after they had outlived their original uses, giving rise to the old saw, "Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without." It is a philosophy I embrace, and it goes without saying that the world would be better off without the overabundance of single-use disposables we see today.

Now enter the sewing stash, and mind how you open the door to that cupboard lest you find yourself caught in a fabric avalanche. Anyone who sews experiences this dilemma to some degree. Trimmings from the cutting table are too long, too big to be thrown away. They go in a box (possibly labelled "quilting scraps" as mine is), in a drawer, in a trunk. The pile grows with each garment made. The more ambitious members of our unofficial guild of hoarders make quilts; our closets are full of quilts, our friends have quilts, and still the seams threaten to burst on our drawers, boxes and cupboards. Oh, whatever can we do to relieve the pressure? How about making some rag rope? It's easy, it's a mindless occupation (you can do it while watching TV), and it opens up a new chapter in our mental Big Book of Projects.

To start with, you're going to need strips of fabric. How many? Enough for your project. I'm planning to use this hank for a woven rag rug, but you could just as easily turn it into a basket, a washable shopping bag, rustic mats to put under hot dishes on your dinner table. For my rug, however, I will need roughly 100 yards. I turned out 12 yards yesterday, in between all the other things I was doing. So, assuming that you're going to make a rug (woven, braided or sewn), cut your strips approximately 1.5" wide. If some of your fabrics are lighter than others, cut those strips slightly wider. Tie or sew the ends of two strips together as a starting point. Let's go!

Step 1: pinch and hold your starting point, then take one of the strips and give it a few turns AWAY from you (the direction is important, so listen up). You can do this by engaging a finger about four inches from the pinch point, and yes, your finger is probably going to get trapped a few times before you get the hang of this motion. Once you have the twists made, you're ready for Step 2: bring the twisted strip TOWARD you so that your second strip is now in the upper position. Reposition your pinch point to hold the twist in place. Step 3 is essentially a repeat of Step 1 using the other fabric strip, and likewise, Step 4 is a repeat of Step 2. Completion of the four steps will bring you back to your original position. You can make your twists looser or tighter depending on your project preferences. New strips can be added in several ways. I prefer to overlap the ends by an inch, fold them together and take a few stitches through all layers to secure them. If raw edges or the occasional sight of the reverse side of a print offend your obsessive-compulsive nature, you could fold and press the strips to minimize their occurrence. I'm not that particular. After all, this is a rag project and should have a "homegrown" feel.

Hardy Beauty

Day 292: Given the wide variety of hardy Fuchsias available, I find it hard to imagine why anyone with garden space would bother with the annuals. Even with winter temperatures here dropping into single digits almost every year, all but one of mine have survived with no mulching or additional protection. While the types with smaller, slender flowers are what most people think of when you say "hardy Fuchsia" (assuming that they don't respond immediately with, "There's no such thing!"), the large-flowered cultivars offer a range of colour combinations equal to that of their annual cousins. That said, hardiness and hue seem to be linked (at least in my observations), with the lighter shades being somewhat more tender than the good old pink-and-purple sort such as "Army Nurse" (bottom) and "Riccartonii" (top). If left to their own designs, many varieties can attain the size of a small shrub. I keep mine pruned to manageable dimensions. They flower on both new and old wood, so pruning is simply a matter of taking out stems which have become too leggy or woody. Spare your budget! Chuck the annuals and plant some hardy Fuchsias in your garden next year.