Gathering

As I said yesterday, I would be out gathering things to stock in my cupboards. Oak leaves and Ivy and most herbs are well within the reach of anyone - apartment dwellers, tight-budgeted individuals, etc.

I told you I had *mini* oak trees. I do. Here's one of them that gave me a few leaves today. Perfect color this year!

When we planted them this particular little oak was exactly three feet tall. I measure them every year.

I just measured the trees again this morning. (ignore the grass that needs cut. You can see some of the ivy and my cat Merlin in the window in the back of the photo)

This guy is now a WHOPPING 3 feet, 1.25 inches! WOO HOO! 

After six years - it's grown a whole 1.25 inches! YEAH!  Yeah - I need to get out and weed, prune, etc. All in good time, folks. All in good time. Like, probably next spring. haha.

Now.. I mentioned yesterday that there is little in a suburban neighborhood that will send your neighbors in foaming at the mouth fits quite like letting ivy grow on your brick. Believe me. It's true. Here's a picture of the ivy that has been growing for about five years on the north side of the house: (and yes, more plants and, of course, my cat Merlin, in the window)

 

According to suburban law, it would completely be within my neighbor's rights to drag me from my house in the middle of the night, strip me naked, whip me until dawn, then set me afire on a bonfire woven with all that ivy - freshly pulled down by the neighbors themselves.

Here's how the conversation with my neighbors go. Every year. Yep. EVERY YEAR we have this conversation.

Neighbor: You know, I don't mean to butt in or anything, but... you do know that the ivy is going to destroy your brick, right?

Me: Really? Who says? 

Neighbor: So and so on that gardening program on television. 

Me: Huh. Well, I guess they don't make 'em like they used to. 

Neighbor: What?

Me: You know. The brick. And mortar. I guess the people hundred of years ago made brick and mortar better by hand with whatever materials were local than we can make it today. Or even a hundred years ago. Obviously, so and so from that tv program never went to Harvard. Or Princeton. Or Cornell...

Neighbor:  What does their college education have to do with anything? (by this point, they usually have a vague sense I've set them up for a classic Copperhead strike, but can't figure it out)

Me: Nothing. But, if we concede that my brick is about to crumble anyday from some ivy growing on it, we should be worrying about our great University buildings - which have been covered for 150 years or more in... IVY. And all those medieval buildings over in Europe - why do you suppose they haven't tumbled to dust yet? 

Neighbor: ummmm.....

Yeah. We basically have that conversation, or some variation thereof EVERY YEAR. Sometimes I'll ask when will my brick be destroyed. They'll say like... in a 100 years. Then I ask them if they really think I'm going to be around to care.  We go round and round. Sooner or later, they'll figure out that I'm not going to give up my ivy. Tooooo bad.

So... here is what I've harvested so far:

It isn't much, but I will harvest a few more times - I only take a small amount each time, and I always ask first and leave a gift. I think it's a fair deal. (I harvested more oak leaves, but they were in the basket still)

Hopefully later this weekend, it will be acorns and the rosemary - and maybe more happy finds along the way.