Thank Goodness Irene Asked

Hands Up, Don't Shoot
Jackie Houston

Alerted by the New York Times article, my friend Irene asked, "Go to this for me?" This being,  Neighborhoods Coming Together: Quilts Around Oakland, a citywide show of around 100 quilts, all produced by members of the African American Quilt Guild of Oakland. And Oakland being, quite plainly, an important part of the organization's name, as well as the focus of the exhibition.

So sure, of course I would go. I even tried enticing her to fly across the country for a visit and see the show for herself, but, oh well, that didn't happen.

Sadly, I missed the exhibition at City Hall, as well as the one at Laney College. But at least I made it to the show at the Joyce Gordon Gallery.

Oakland, You Are Welcome
Teri Green

Delilah Beasley
Marsha Carter

And what a show it is: a beautiful selection of quilts, featuring familiar landmarks and events, ideas, social movements and political issue, all carefully elaborated and stitched.

The show continues through the end of the month. So if you are around downtown Oakland, I encourage you to stop by. And Irene, "Thank you!"

Joyce Gordon Gallery
406 14th Street
Wed. - Sat.

The Very Local Lending Library

Colby St.

Hillegass Ave.

When my mom went back home after her visit in March, she left behind some books. Not keepers these books, but clearly meant to passed along. However, since our local branch library no longer accepts book donations, you have to cart them down to the Bookmark bookstore in Old Oakland. But that meant driving and, even worse, parking.

Shafter Ave.

Instead, I wandered over to my local Little Free Library. Started in 2009, the movement's mission is "To promote literacy and the love of reading by building free book exchanges worldwide and to build a sense of community as we share skills, creativity and wisdom across generations."

People certainly support the idea - Little Free Library estimates that there are now at least 36,000 free book exchanges worldwide.

I think there are even more. The one on Shafter Ave. is registered with the organization. But the ones on Colby and on Hillegass don't appear on their map.

Regardless, next time you're looking for something to read, you might want to stroll over to your neighbor's front yard and see what's on offer.

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The hummingbird's nest is now empty. Sadly, one of the two baby birds did not survive. All of the neighbors are very hopeful that the second baby did make it, and is off sipping nectar nearby.

Easter Bonnets

Easter, 2016

2014 Model

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

New Kids on the Block

March 15th, 2016

Mama Hummingbird must be doing something right, because these two squirts are now entirely filling up their little nest.

Anna's hummingbird babies are supposed to be flying at around three weeks of age - by my calculation then, that means they should be long gone by the end of the month.

Shh! Don't Wake the Babies!

Anna's Hummingbird Babies

From here, you go out the front door, pass two houses and turn into the driveway. There, if you are very careful and quiet, you may just locate the tiny (1 and 1/2" across) Anna's Hummingbird nest in the small tree. Inside are these two - eyes still closed and sporting very few feathers, at least as of five days ago. I bet by now they are already talking back to Mom.

Brag, Brag, Brag...#7: Michael Reardon

It's done, over, finished, complete. And the outcome is great!

My best guy spent a big chunk of last year writing (mostly illustrating, rather) an instructional book on watercolors - Watercolor Techniques: Painting Light and Color in Landscapes and Cityscapes, published by North Light Books.

And although he is most certainly not responsible for the title, he is quite happy with the results.

Michael will be signing books at Diesel in Oakland on April 3rd. But please, please, please, you can't go out and buy a copy unless you plan on taking up painting...

Don't Tell Princess!

They came, scoped it out, and now are moving in.

Can you see them? Bewick's wrens on the gourd, bringing in nesting materials. You may even be able to see some sticks poking out the entrance hole (yes I know, lousy photo, but I really didn't want to scare them off).

Yacon or Whatchamacallit

It arrived in a four-inch pot in April, and never looked back. Yes, but what is it anyway?

Yacon (Smallanthus sonchifolius) is a member of the sunflower family from the highlands of Bolivia and Peru. Plant it, stand back, and in six months or so, you should be rewarded with a large pile of brown, homely, edible tubers. You've got to dig them out for yourself, though.

I thought I would give it a whirl, since it is supposedly one of those very productive, good-for-you, permaculture plants which will cure diabetes, encourage weight loss, save the planet and...well, the Australians and Kiwis grow a lot of it, along with those Andeans, and now a few nut cases on the west coast.

So yeah, it grew and grew all summer long, and by November when I cut it back, the plant was over 6' tall and wide. I probably should have waited a bit longer, but I was pretty sure I didn't want it climbing into bed with us.

June

Now people will tell you that the tubers are sweet, with hints of strawberry and/or watermelon, and a texture like jicama. That was not my experience - I taste only a small measure of sweetness, with hints of celery and unpeeled carrot, and a texture like an open-weave water chestnut. Not bad, but not something I particularly crave, especially in large quantities. And there are large quantities: that one yacon plant produced a small mountain of tubers, which would be fabulous if we loved them, rather than just kinda liked them.

I've experimented with various ways of preparing the tubers - in a curry (okay), baked at chips (better), sautéed with carrots and ginger (quite good) and in miso-noodle soup (fine). I've come across a number of recipes for salad which use yacon, but so far I haven't tried anything like that. You see, the tubers oxidize (turn a dirty brown) once they are peeled, and somehow, I'm not a big fan of dirty brown salads.

September

Ithaca Yacon

One tuber as large as my trowel

So I a bit conflicted about growing yacon again. On the one hand, you get a lot of food for not too much space and very little work. On the other hand, you have to actually eat the stuff. Apparently yacon will store for months if the tubers aren't damaged, but it was nigh on impossible for me to get them out of the ground without some damage. In truth, I probably will reset the crown in the spring, though in a smaller pot, to keep the harvest manageable. No doubt there will be extra crowns to share, so let me know if you are interested in growing one of your own. Just remember to stand back.

The Harvest

Getting Ready for Spring

Yes, it's still cold (relatively) and dark (very) around here, and I know that I often plan ahead far more in advance than is needed, but some of my close neighbors - the feathered ones - have me beat.

Usually by mid-January, the local titmice and wrens are behaving as if it were already spring. They have begun nosing around for someone to court and somewhere private to suffer the consequences of courting. And I want to be welcoming.

So, a long time ago, long enough that I can't remember exactly when, I grew a gourd vine along the front of the house. With the help of my Zucchini Sex Goddess skills, the vine actually produced a dozen or so gourds. Most I gave away, but one got stashed in the attic. Not quite forgotten, but it really had no purpose.

Until now. Perfect for a wren house, right? I'm hoping so. A 1" hole for the entryway also made it easy to dump out the seeds and fibers remaining in the gourd. Two small holes at the top for hanging, and four 1/4" holes at the bottom for drainage completed the job. Except that of course I had to gussy it all up by staining the outside with a wood stain, and rubbing in glitter-gold highlights. Then four coats of polyurethane for sealing.

More complete instructions for making a birdhouse can be found here. You can buy gourds or grow your own gourds in Oakland, but most likely you will have to play Zucchini Sex Goddess or God yourself because of our foggy mornings.

The gourd house is now attached to the trellis along the back fence, a common hang-out spot for the wrens. So far, no birdy action, but it's still early in the season. Guy's gotta getta girl first, you know.

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And for an informative and silly look at gourds and humans, a Tom A. Sterns made this video. Enjoy!

Fields of Gold, or Rather, Saffron

I bought ten saffron crocus bulbs (corms, actually) this fall, pretty sure that it would be a complete waste of five bucks, but I had to do it anyway. Just the idea of growing your own saffron was worth the fiver.

So I'm sure that you know that saffron is considered one of the most expensive foods in the world, and, as I found out this first time, darn easy to grow. It's the harvesting that requires all the work, although for my few blossoms, it was just a quick snip-snip with sharp scissors. My imagination balks at the vision of the fields and fields of tiny purple flowers in Iran and Kashmir, all needing to be harvested and processed within a few days.


I planted the bulbs right away. That was early October. With once a week watering, they were up and blooming by mid-November. Each morning I would go out and check for more blooms, clipping only the edible red stigmas (the girl parts. The world runs on girls.) and laying them out to dry inside.

From those bulbs, I got a dozen or so blooms, meaning a very small amount of fresh saffron threads, just enough for one or two paellas. My friend Gabe estimated that I had a stash worth about ten whole bucks. Making money now...

The bulbs go dormant during the summer, and require little or no summer water (music to my drought sensitive ears). They are supposed to multiply each year, so with luck, they will spring back up in the fall for another round of those lovely little flowers, containing that most treasured spice.