The Mint Patch Monologue

Tag: life

  • lighting the way

    My neighbor installed flood lights a few years ago, they come on automatically at dark and are there to illuminate their back yard storage building for security. The problem with the building is that is is in the direction of my back yard, and my bedroom window. Anytime I want to build a fire and relax, I’m sometimes ran indoors by the artificial light pouring into the night outside. Some spots are shaded when the foliage in the heat of summer is at it’s peak, sometimes I can angle my chair to avoid it’s distraction. It’s just a fact of living in a neighborhood. However, there are comforting things I enjoy, the neighborhood is familiar to me and feels peaceful when everyone joins in turning in for quiet nights when all you can hear are crickets because it’s everyone’s collective bedtime. When a violent thunderstorm rolls in and everyone makes their way to the front porch to watch it feels like we’re all fans of the same team, just watching together.  There are good things and not so good things about anywhere you choose to  live, I deal with a bit of traffic, and a flood of light after the sun sets naturally.

    My curiosity to unscrew the lights myself or aim my nephew’s BB gun in their direction changed last year when hurricane Helene made landfall in September. I have lived in eastern Kentucky all my life and have only ever experienced long rainy days after a hurricane, we are far too inland for anything more than that. But last year was different, and as North Carolina flooded major wind and strong storms hit us here too, enough to knock my power out for 3 solid days. I remember seeing a purple sky and then everything just went dark. The hum of the refrigerator stopped, the air conditioner stood still, and battery preservation took top priority. Everything I thought to do required power or internet and I felt humbled to acknowledge my own dependence on electricity. Luckily I have been collecting taper candles and wall sconces from estate sales for years, interior illumination was no problem for me until it was time for bed. I should include that on this particular Friday, Saturday and Sunday I was alone. Chris was on tour at the time so it was just me and my perfect companion Percy to brave the dark and quiet days and nights.

    After a trip to the store for ice and a full tank of gas I settled in, and the sun went down. At bedtime I snuffed out all open flames and crawled under the covers. I felt lonely, the stillness was unsettling. Restless, I peeled back my curtains and saw the neighbor’s floodlights independently at work, the only light under the blanket of blackness for miles surrounding me. The light was grounding and comforting, a sweetness in the bitter. A constant in the face of disaster, a reminder that we were so lucky compared to those that had lost everything, even their homes. Throughout the night if I were to stir, the steady stream of warm light entering my dwelling place granted me my barring again. What I had once considered a nuisance became an anchor.

    I was reminded of this last night, in an unforgiving heat wave I had enough light to water my garden after 10pm, once the temperatures broke from being in the 90s,  shortly after the sun set.  The floodlights are my little moons now, there because we need them sometimes, how lucky we are.

    Thank you for reading, drop me a line sometime… I DO love to chat!

    justicesarah67@yahoo.com

  • Fire, Smoke, and Water

    I like to burn a fire while I’m watering my garden. To me there is something perfectly balanced between the heat and smoke of the fire against a pure and steady stream of fresh and cool water. There is a nice, dry pile of peach tree trimmings from the fall season ready to go up in flames quickly. I start by snapping the little twigs into armlength pieces and filling my above ground fire pit. They catch fire quick, too quick if I’m not prepared and sometimes leave me scrambling for bigger branches before it’s too late and all I have is a pile of ash and the need to start all over. Once I’ve got a good hot fire I can throw in a log or two, depending on how late into the night I’m willing to push back a bedtime, which is usually often. As the flames and smoke rise I reach for my gardening hose and as I stand in one spot after another, showering all of the plants, I look towards the fire, and back to the water. Back to the fire, and back again to the water. Both of these resources have meant survival since our species began, and I can still feel the satisfaction of having them- in my bones. If I close my eyes I can almost see images of Pangaea, the ancient world before us. I consider oceans, and volcanoes, some of natures most powerful forces and find my own power in capturing those events simply, at home. Fire and water both demand the virtue of respect, a good reminder to us all in times of social discourse and political disturbance.

    The contrast between nature’s two forces, both in my own control, makes for the most pleasant experience in the back yard on a mid May evening. After everything is good and drenched but never drowned, I poke around my stack of burning peach tree trimmings and toss in another log. Last year I bought a truckload of firewood from a nice man for $80, who delivered and stacked it for me on a very rainy day. I’ve chipped away at my supply now, but still have enough for a few more months. The best way to split the wood is to use a small axe, and a 4 pound steel mallet; a two hand (but easy) job. Wedge the axe in with one swift strike, then hammer the axe into the log one tap at a time until the log splits. Sometimes a dry log will burst apart, other times (if I am still) once the axe is halfway down, I can hear the wood slowly cracking it’s way loose. I pretend splitting firewood is a necessary chore around here in order to survive, and that makes it more exciting; it’s even better to throw on a pair of overalls for the job.

    Anticipating the harvest I’ve jumped ahead at making more concoctions in the kitchen. The results of the chive blossom vinegar are stunning, and I’ve been adding a drizzle to most of my plates. The little acidic zing is a cross between onion and garlic, and is a beautiful shade of lavender.

    In the spirit of pickling I decided to make pickled carrots. Store bought carrots this time, chopped up nicely and added to a jar of vinegar, garlic, a light drizzle of maple syrup and a secret ingredient- a handful of thyme. This was no result of planning, just a split choice (a wise choice) made towards the end of the process.

    My Friday night project was distilled rose water from a basketful of petals I plucked from my rose bush, and rose tea. The tea I’ve been adding to bath water and the distilled rose water makes for a refreshing face tonic.

    I poured 2 candles with dried lavender and marjoram sprinkled in between layers of wax. As I’m typing here I’m reminded that I need to buy jars, not necessarily for canning, but for housing all of my potions. There are no rules in using herbs as I’ve said before. I don’t measure things, and usually I’m just making things up as I go along. This also means that sometimes I use too much or not enough but am always pleased to experiment. Being curious can seem like a somber trance, thinking as I use my hands to create. We look too much up online, or at least I have a tendency to. If we take all of the answers at our fingertips don’t you think we might lose the ability to imagine solutions for ourselves? Artificial intelligence answers are too easy sometimes. I’ll give this example: I have a beautiful chicken to cook for dinner and I’m not sure what else to make. I could reach down into my pocket and type “best side dish for chicken” “summer side dishes” “chicken casserole recipe.” The response is immediate, data to quickly glance through until I’ve let the internet decide for me. Don’t get me wrong because I certainly do this, however, isn’t there something better in the long run about scouring a crisping drawer or a pantry shelf and creating something of your own..? Use it or lose it must apply to thinking, and I believe if you don’t have time to cook then you could stand to re arrange your minutes.

    Do have a wonderful evening.

    As always, reach out to me because I do love to chat!

    justicesarah67@yahoo.com