Wild Muse Notes ♣ Aria Nadii’s Weblog

I’m still floating in the mist. I think it’s called a brain fog. The signs of life I refer to are (unfortunately) not mine. Not yet. They are outside, here on the coastal homestead among the flora and fauna and wildlife. Spring flowers, mint, oregano, garlic, purslane, parsley, dandelions, sage, spring onions, rhubarb, and asparagus are all peeking up now. My fig tree and wisteria survived the winter and have new buds. There are signs and indications that I will join them soon. Last week began the long slow tease of a spring which never quite arrives. Then it will be summer. We’ll sneak in gardening days whenever the sun miraculously appears (usually mid morning to early afternoon) and try to have as much done as possible before the “inexplicable” 10-15 degree temperature drop and whiting out of the sky (usually around mid afternoon) or the whip winds of a sudden storm off the Atlantic. I love it though, living and gardening on a cliff by the sea, challenges and all.

This is our first season of a completely self sufficient system of growing, with enough of our own organic compost, leaf mold, and saved seeds not to have to purchase anything. I was tempted by spring chicks but we are not ready for them yet. The compost came out better than I had hoped and there is plenty of it. Rich and black. I’ve been working in the studio all along but there is that floating thing. Nitty gritty down and dirty with the earth is what really wakes me up and gets me going. Solar power also helps. My cozy by the fire evenings and lazy daze of winter woolgathering are over though…until December. This year’s projects are to finish developing the other side of the garden, build our new improved greenhouse, and possibly construct an outdoor studio for me.

Wild turkey trot through the garden.





Nemo is fascinated.



“Those are the biggest chickens I ever saw!”



I can has turkey?



Starting the season.



Transplanting seedlings from greenhouse trays to beds and containers.





Daffodils and driftwood.







We created a micro-climate by hollowing out a bowl for a sunken garden and surrounding it with a stone wall, then installing raising beds filled with generous amounts of organic compost. We still need these walls-o-water to plant tomatoes and peppers. Otherwise the season would be too short to yield fruit. Everything else grows fine in the beds with just an occasional frost cover or extra windbreak.





Garlic! Planted last fall and ready to eat soon. Repels vampires too. So very handy.



Dandelions for dinner.

Pfft. Time to go back inside.

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Oh well. There’s always the studio.

Layer, glaze, layer, glaze, cut apart, reassemble, layer, glaze, layer, glaze, cut apart, reassemble, and repeat indefinitely…usually until the rare moment of lucidity or financial inclination motivates me to stop long enough for something to to be released from this eternal infernal cycle of construction and destruction. It hasn’t happened lately. Now if only I could combine composting with art making. That would be heaven. Hmmm…