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My raincoat is wearing out. I have blisters on my fingers from holding my umbrella. Even my elbows are getting moldy. It has rained. And rained. And rained. It’s easy to see why the ancient people worshipped the sun. On those few occasions during the last several months, when the skies above Atlanta have been blue and free of clouds I have been outside, face tilted toward the sun in worship.

Let me hasten to add that I am not complaining. Really. I too well remember all those months of drought when I would have given anything for a good down pour. All I’m asking is for a little balance. Which is why the ancients had both sun gods and rain gods.

My favorite solar myth comes from China where, according to the story, there were originally 10 suns who would take turns coming out in the sky. But, these young boy suns loved to play with one another and one day they decided to all come out at once. Immediately things on earth began to burn up until the hero, Hou Yi shot down 9 of the suns with his bow and arrow, leaving only the one sun left. I sometimes wonder if this last sun might be so lonely he forgets to come out to play.

Plants (and people) need the sun. One of the first questions gardeners ask about putting in a new plant is, “how much sunlight does it need?” There are plants suited to every condition on earth and matching the right plant to the right spot is one of the golden rules of gardening. Generally plant labels provide information about the amount of sunlight needed: full sun (6 or more hours / day) part sun / shade (at least 3 – 6 hours of sunlight) or full shade (3 or fewer hours of sunlight ). Providing the right amount of sunlight is critical – too much sun and a plant may stress and burn, too little and the plant will become leggy and weak and refuse to bloom.

Though I may change my mind in the heat of mid-summer, right now I’d put myself in the “needs full sun” category. The last place on earth I would want to live is Utqiagvik, Alaska, the most northern town in the United States. Above the Arctic Circle, the sun sets on November 19th and remains below the horizon for 66 days. The average temperature in January is -14.2 degrees F. AND, it’s one of the cloudiest places on earth. Nope, even with the rain, give me Atlanta GA !

My eight year old granddaughter was full of excitement the other day because she had made bread (from scratch) at school that day. Yay and blessings for teachers who take time to do the important things in life, like teach children to make bread! I asked Ellie what kind of bread they had made and she said, “Wheat. But it was white.”

I understand her confusion. We so often use the word “wheat” when we mean whole wheat – or brown vs. white bread. But of course (almost) all bread is made from flour, which is made from wheat and how lucky we are that this miraculous plant is part of our world.

Wild wheat originated in the “Fertile Crescent” (the area of present day Syria and Turkey). It has been cultivated since Paleolithic times and has had a part of the history of mankind since its beginning. Today there are many different kinds of wheat, including winter, spring, red, hard, soft and white.

The short solution to Ellie’s confusion is this: Whole wheat flour is a product that uses the entire seed of the wheat plant – the bran (outside covering), germ (the part that sprouts to make a new plant) and the endosperm (the largest part of the seed.) The result is flour that is brown and makes a denser bread, more nutritious bread.

White flour is made from only the endosperm and has virtually no nutritive value. Many manufacturers use chemicals to bleach the flour so that it is uniformly white, making white flour even less nutritious. A slightly better alternative is unbleached white flour.

There are many, many other different kinds of flours, including durum which is a hard wheat high in protein and semolina, a kind of durum used in making pasta.

By now Ellie has completely lost interest in my explanations and is ready to do something. So we decided to use our (my) newfound knowledge of wheat and make some pasta!

We combined semolina, eggs, water, baking powder and salt to make the dough and then the fun began! Making the world’s longest, most delicious spaghetti noodles. Making it was almost as fun as eating it.

Try it! It’s not only fun to make your own pasta, it’s also absolutely delicious. It helps to have a pasta maker on a stand mixer but you can roll and cut it without it. I’ve included the recipe below. Have fun!

Basic Egg Noodle Pasta

4 large eggs

2 1/2 cups semolina

1 cup unbleached all purpose flour

3 tablespoons water

1 teaspoon salt

Break eggs into a measuring cup. Place flour and salt into large bowl and gradually add eggs. Add water until the dough all sticks together, then knead for two minutes either by hand or in a mixer. Let the dough rest for 20 minutes then divide into four balls. Attach the pasta roller to the mixer and press through the widest setting (or roll out as flat as possible by hand). Send it through the roller several times, getting progressively thinner. Take off the roller and put the noodle cutter on the machine and feed the thin sheets through one at a time (or cut long, thing noodles by hand). Make them as long or short as possible but we found that the longer the noodle, the more fun it was. Just don’t try to slurp a 36 inch noodle, you’ll turn your cheeks inside out!

“Wilderness. The word itself is music.” Edward Abbey

I have never spent much time in the desert. Having been born and raised in the South, my usual wilderness experience has been in the southern Appalachians where I walk on a thick, soft spongy carpet of thousand year old leaves and the trees above me offer both shade and moisture.

So, when Jack and I visited Joshua Tree National Park last week and spent some time in the desert, I was in awe of the sparse beauty that surrounded us. Certainly, the beauty of the desert has been written about extensively, most famously by Edward Abbey in his incomparable “Desert Solitaire“.

Following Mr. Abbey’s suggestion when he wrote, ” A man on foot, on horseback or on a bicycle will see more, feel more, enjoy more in one mile than the motorized tourists can in a hundred miles.”  Jack and I left our car in the parking lot and set off on foot to explore a bit of the desert.

It was an unusual time to be there as it was raining. Unfortunately, we were too early in the season to see the wildflowers which are famous for exploding into bloom in the rain. What we did see were astonishingly beautiful and unusual rock formations,

Edward Abbey wrote of the rocks, “Men come and go, cities rise and fall, whole civilizations appear and disappear-the earth remains, slightly modified. The earth remains, and the heartbreaking beauty where there are no hearts to break….I sometimes choose to think, no doubt perversely, that man is a dream, thought an illusion, and only rock is real.” 

And, of course, we saw cactus, that amazing family of plants that can withstand some of the harshest conditions on earth with some of the most amazing survival techniques known in the natural world.

The Park’s namesake, the Joshua Tree, is not a cactus but a Yucca. Found almost exclusively in the Mojave Desert, the tree has roots that form a dense, shallow network that is impressively efficient in trapping any surface moisture. It is often called the “tree of life” since it is important for food and shelter for so many desert creatures.

The leafless beauty of Mountain mahogany and scrub oak silhouettes provided some of the most dramatic specimens in the Park. The black, intricate branches against the pale red and tan rocks were absolutely stunning.

The desert is rarely thought of as a place of joy. Usually when I think of desert life, I think of species fighting for survival, of animals desperate for water, of plants thin and weak between showers. But, Abbey found great joy in the desert and this passage is one to remember for all kinds of situations:

“Has joy any survival value in the operations of evolution? I suspect that it does; I suspect that the morose and fearful are doomed to quick extinction. Where there is no joy there can be no courage; and without courage all other virtues are useless.” 

As always, I have found lessons in the wild. In the desert I learned to find beauty in bare branches and spiney leaves and I was reminded of how essential wilderness is to our survival. Even if we can’t escape to the desert – or the mountains or the wetlands or any other remote place – these wilderness areas are critical to our well being. As Abbey says, “We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope.” 

The desert seems a funny place to find hope but there it is, in every sapling that begins so grow in a crack in the rock, in every cactus that survives extreme temperatures and little water, in every Joshua tree that escaped the perverse vandalism of thoughtless individuals. There it is in a desert that offers beauty, perseverance, and joy.

Jack and I are lucky enough to be visiting Southern California and the desert this week and even luckier to have an orange tree growing right outside our little inn room. Fortunately, the small kitchenette came equipped with both knife and hand juicer so the first morning I braved the pouring rain and plucked a few ripe oranges off the tree and we enjoyed the freshest juice we’ve ever had.

Oranges have been known and cultivated for centuries. Sweet oranges were mentioned in the literature in China dating back to 314 BC. Early explorers brought orange trees to Florida in 1565. Franicans brought them to sunny Southern California in 1769.

Orange juice has been a breakfast staple for so long that it’s hard to imagine life without it. But as the citrus industry continues to suffer, that is a possibility that we have to consider. We all have heard about the difficulties Florida citrus growers have experienced recently, from hard freezes to hurricane damage. What you may not be aware of is the little brown bug from China that causes citrus greening, a disease that is threatening to completely wipe out the industry. The future of oranges looks black indeed.

The devastation has been enormous and the situation is so dire that the Center for Genetic Resources Preservation has put orange tree cuttings in a vault in Colorado, protecting against the possibility of losing all orange trees.

Scientists are working furiously trying to find a cure but results have been disappointing. Interestingly, the solution may lie with organic gardening practices. Twenty-five year old trees that were never sprayed with pesticides have developed vibrant immune systems which are allowing them to resist the disease.

I applaud the scientists who are working so hard to solve this sticky problem and sympathize with the many farmers who are suffering losses in the citrus industry and pray that the future of oranges regains it’s sunny reputation. It makes me grateful for every sip of orange juice.

My son, Dave Martin, is a Chinese medicine practitioner in Hood River, Oregon. He recently moved his clinic (Trinity Natural Medicine) to a better location in the small town and I decided that the new place might need a motherly touch so I spent the last 4 days there. My “motherly touch” turned out to be a super fun and exciting wall mural of Chinese herbs that I painted with his business partner, Stephenie.

She had already painted the wall a dark grey/ blue color and it was her idea to do stark white lines instead of trying to do it all in color. The results were dramatic – and I think – really pleasing.

Passion flower is not only part of the Chinese pharmacopeia but was also, closer to home, used by the Cherokee Indians to treat skin infections and to help calm and soothe nerves. American ginseng, has been used for centuries to help cure a variety of ailments including headaches, fevers, colic and rheumatism. Its Asian cousin is one of the most important herbs in Chinese medicine and has been revered for thousands of years as a general tonic. Gardenia, Japanese magnolia, cinnamon tree, lotus, hawthorn, ginger and even kudzu are herbs with medicinal properties.

It was fun for me to discover how many of our own familiar trees and plants are used in Chinese medicine and how many have been used medicinally in different cultures throughout the world. For example, fennel, which we primarily use as a culinary herb, was cultivated by the ancient Greets and Romans. They believed that eating the young shoots and the seeds gave one strength, courage and longevity. (Guess what I’m planting in my herb garden this summer!)

It takes years of study to understand the different herbs and how they need to be combined in formulas to be used most effectively. Fortunately for me, understanding the aesthetic beauty of each of these herbs was instant!

So, next time you’re in Hood River, stop by and see our wall of Chinese herbs – and talk with Dave about the power and effectiveness of these beautiful plants.

Plants in winter gardens are usually not show stoppers – with one great exception. Camellias, with their dark green shiny leaves and blossoms so stunningly beautiful they will melt your heart, are the queen of the garden during these cold, dreary months of winter.

We’re not alone in revering this cold weather wonder. In its native Japan, Camellia japonica (by far the most common of our ornamental camellias) grew on the grounds of Shinto temples. It was believed that the gods themselves made the shrubs bloom.

The Japanese name of this shrub is tsubaki which is translated as “tree with shining leaves,” an apt name for this evergreen shrub. In its native habitat (Japan, Taiwan and the coast of Korea) this Camellia can grow up to 30 feet tall and generally has simple red flowers with 5 – 6 petals.

But gardeners, being of the meddling sort, could not leave well enough alone and today there are an astonishing 20,000 named cultivars of camellias, sporting a wide variety of flower forms and colors, including white and all shades of red and pink. Flowers can be ruffled, spotted, striped, speckled and all other manner of pattern and design.

Although Camellias are cold tolerant, they do have their limits and grow best in southern climates (zones 7 – 10) where winter temperatures do not generally get below zero. New, hardier varieties have been recently developed for more northern gardens.

Camellias prefer morning sun and afternoon shade and rich, well drained slightly acidic soils. Once established, they are relatively drought tolerant, needing less water than lawn grass.

These shrubs would be beautiful any time of year but now, when so much of the garden is brown and bare, they are particularly beloved and appreciated.

You may or may not have known that today, December 12, is Poinsettia Day.  As a bonafide, unapologetic flower lover, I am grateful for flowers anytime, anywhere. Although I love best the flowers growing outside my door, I am grateful that in mid-winter,  somebody, somewhere is growing flowers that will brighten up my holiday decorations.

I’m just the kind of person that Albert Ecke, a German immigrant living in California, was thinking about when he launched his Poinsettia business in Eagle Rock, CA in 1909.  Although he was immensely successful, it was Paul Ecke, Jr. who took over in 1963 and developed the business into a monopoly.  The Eckes discovered how to make the seedlings produce a bushy, compact plant which soon became a phenomenon. Paul’s horticultural skills were only surpassed by his marketing skills.  Once he learned to mass produce these beautiful poinsettias, he began sending them out for free to all the T.V. stations.  Poinsettias – and Paul – soon became a sensation and he appeared on The Tonight Show and on The Bob Hope Show, touting the beauty of this native Mexican plant.

For years, the Ecke Ranch held a virtual monopoly on growing and selling Poinsettias but in 1991, a university graduate student published a paper on how to perfect the branching technique and the secret was out.  Soon the Eckes had competitors from all over the world.  Even so, the Ecke Ranch (now owned by a Dutch Company) still holds an astounding 70 percent of the market in the U.S. and 50% world wide.

The Poinsettia was named for Joel R. Poinsett, a botanist and physician who served as the first U.S. ambassador to Mexico.  He sent cuttings of a native Mexican shrub to his home in Charleston, S. C. where it was grown and admired.  Eventually, the plant was named for Poinsett and December 12th, the anniversary of his death, has been declared Poinsettia Day.

There are now over 100 varieties of Poinsettias that come in not only red but also pink, cream, speckled and orange.  Contrary to popular belief, Poinsettias are not really poisonous.  It’s said that a 50 pound child would have to eat 500 – 600 leaves to suffer any lasting effects.  The plants should however, be kept away from pets.

And, of course, the “flowers” on the Poinsettia are actually modified leaves called bracts so my “unapologetic” love of flowers might have to be expanded to include leaves as well.

I hope you all have the best Poinsettia Day ever!! 

I love cranberry relish – but only if it is homemade from fresh cranberries.  Canned “cranberry sauce” tastes nothing like the real thing (sort of like canned green beans have little resemblance to fresh ones.) And NOW, at the peak of their harvest season, is the time to enjoy these tart little berries.

Cranberries are are native to northern regions of North America, including Maine, Massachusetts and west to Oregon and Washington. They were much appreciated and beloved by the Native Americans and, later, by the colonists.  The Algonquin word for the berry was sassamenesh, meaning “bitter berry,” an apt name for this flavorful, though sour, fruit.  Native Americans used cranberries for food, medicine and as a dye.  They ate the berries both fresh and dried and made tea from the leaves.  One of the most important uses was in making pemmican, a combination of pounded deer meat, cranberries and animal fat that was dried and carried while traveling because it would last for months.

Cranberries grow in low lying boggy areas and do NOT grow in standing water.  The bogs are flooded before harvest and the berries, loosened from the vine, float to the surface where they are easy to harvest.  The fresh berries you buy in the stores are actually dry harvested.

Cranberries are extremely healthy for you and contain high amounts of antioxidants, vitamin C and fiber.  They are considered one of the more important “superfoods” so relish those cranberries!

The best cranberry sauce recipe I know of is out of my Green Market Baking Book . Enjoy!!

Honey Cranberry Sauce

• 1 cup apple cider
• 1/2 cup honey
• 1/4 cup maple syrup
• 2 cinnamon sticks, broken in half
• 1 tablespoon orange zest
• 3 whole cloves
• 3 cups fresh cranberries
• 2 pears, peeled and cut into small pieces
• pinch of salt

1.  In a saucepan over low heat, combine the cider, honey, maple syrup, spices and orange zest.  Cook 5 – 7 minutes
2. Turn off heat and allow the sauce to sit 30 minutes, then remove cinnamon sticks and cloves.
3. Put the saucepan back on the stove and add the salt, cranberries and pears.
4. Cook until the cranberries begin to burst and the pears are tender, about 6 minutes.  Cool and serve.

Like an overanxious mother, checking her child’s forehead for a temperature every hour, I’m hovering over my houseplants, checking and rechecking the soil to see if it’s too dry – or too moist.  Which just proves the point that people can be neurotic about just about anything.

In my own defense, I had just moved all my houseplants from outside (where they had enjoyed 6 or 7 months of sunshine, rain and fresh air) to inside the house where conditions must seem a little dismal.  The air in the house is dry, light is limited and conditions are crowded, so no wonder I was concerned about their adjustment!

Part (?) of this is all my fault.  I used to not like or have any houseplants but over the years I began accumulating plants in pots that couldn’t survive winters outside (i.e. houseplants).  They did pretty well for me and last spring, when all these plants were on the front porch,  I became so enthused that I lavished care, attention, water and organic fertilizer on my houseplants and guess what?  They began to grow and soon filled out their pots.  More delighted than realistic, I bought more pots and potting soil, divided and repotted many of my plants and proudly watched as they all flourished. Outside.

It wasn’t until about July that I began to wonder what the heck I was going to do with all these pots (all 45 of them) when the weather cooled.  All I have to say is, thank goodness I’m married to a patient and tolerant man, who doesn’t even complain as he pushes aside a jungle of “lucky bamboo” to get to the kitchen sink and dodges stag horn fern fronds and aloe spikes as he walks through rooms with windows.

Even I have to admit, it’s a little extreme, though I do have some awesome solutions most of which include building a greenhouse.  But for now, I’m just loving being surrounded by green and growing things and putting my hands in dirt every day, even if the dirt is in a pot!