Trail, Gayla. You grow girl. Simon & Schuster: 2005.

This gorgeous weather we've been having is going to spawn a spate of reviews of gardening and/or garden-related books. Just a forewarning. The first of the onslaught is Gayla Trail's You Grow Girl, which is named after her blog. Good stuff on that blog, if you're interested in all things gardening, including her personal journey to/through gardening.

feeling passionate about pruning

I've caught garden fever good. It is March 5th. There is still significant snow on all the garden beds (and good -- I don't want anyone getting themselves frozen). And I am sitting here fantasizing about pruning. I don't even like pruning.

This year I really should prune the clematis at the side of the house. It's getting a little wild and a lot too big. Now, I could probably just add to the trellis -- the little white clematis, whatever the heck it is, would like that because it's heading its way up there anyways. The big pink one would probably appreciate having a little more space down lower to do its thing. The clematis out there was one of the success stories of my garden last year, one of the few. It just bloomed and bloomed and looked lovely, even when it was flopping over to take over the driveway.

I'm scared to prune it because I don't want to hurt it. But I think it's got to be done. There's dead wood in there, and if it was starting to get unruly last year it's definitely going to be unmanageable this year.

And then there's the forsythia. It's a monster in the back yard, this forsythia. I have slowly come to the conclusion that no matter what we do it will grow back. So all the old stems are going this year. We'll leave last year's new stems, and maybe a few from the year before. But everything else is getting pulled. The old 1/3 rule, but even more ruthless than I've ever been with a shrub. Then perhaps I will be able to see the campanula and the ferns and the phlox without having my eye poked out.

The dogwood, planted two springs ago, which came down from Ottawa with me when I returned home, needs tidying. It did super-well last year, so I'm going to hack it back into a nicer shape. I'll be much more gentle with it than I will be with the forsythia; it's not overgrowing its welcome. But the younger shoots are the reddest shoots, and so a little gentle pruning right about now should be good.

The rose in the front is getting transplanted this year. I've been saying that for years, but this time I really mean it. But first it will have to be chopped back to something I can actually move. And I need to clear a place for it. (Getting rid of some daylilies, they're overgrowing their welcome, too, along with the forsythia.) I will try to move the rose as soon as the ground is unfrozen. I have tried to kill this rose for three years now, and it's not dying, so I suspect it will handle my abusive transplantation.

There's a pair of wigelia, one of which seems to ignore everything and just does its thing, and another which seems to ignore everything and looks pathetic all the time. Sadly, the one I like is the pathetic one. I need to do a good trimming of it this year, just after it blooms. The other one could probably use a bit of a whack-back, too.

Oh, and the raspberries. I need to get armed with heavy leather gloves (and probably a jacket and a neck-protector, frankly) and some hefty shears and go after those as soon as they start to leaf out. They are out of control. And vicious.

And then there's the spirea in the front which I hate but haven't gotten rid of yet, and it's not just out of control, it's so ugly it makes me cross-eyed each time I look at it. Except when it blooms. And its little leaves are rather attractive. I might be convinced to keep it, but I can't let it go another year without hacking it all the way back, digging out its vicious little suckers, and probably digging out at least half of it. Which I'm sure the periwinkle will thank me for, grr.

Oh, and while we're speaking of the front, I think I've maybe let the sandcherry go on too long without pruning. That I'll do after it flowers.

Um. I think I've maybe got my hands full. This weekend I'm taking some flagging tape out there to decorate the branches that will have to go. The upside of my pruning enthusiasm? I now actually want to take the compost out so that I can go and inspect the shrubs without their leaves.

not dead yet!

*pokes a little at the blog*

Oooh, it is still alive!

Okay, so yes. If you follow this blog and not my other, you can be forgiven for thinking I might be dead. The truth is, I have been hibernating a bit this winter as far as birdwatching and gardening sorts of things go. I have been cooking a little bit, but there hasn't been anything newsworthy (other than my decision, based on one mostly successful experiment, that the slow cooker is probably the way to go ALWAYS). I haven't even really been reading much that would be relevant here, although I should report that I am in love with Lucy Waverman's new cookbook, A Year in Lucy's Kitchen. I have not yet tried a recipe by her that hasn't turned out, even the ones that are a little tricky.

But we are closing in on the end of February, and my little calendar is telling me that this weekend is the time to plant my hot peppers. We had a day last week that even smelled a little bit like spring. Then we had a snowstorm, but I am watching the buckets of snow melting in a steady drip out the window right now. In a couple of weeks no doubt the Dutch iris will be peeking up, and the snowdrops. I will be able to find out if my new redbud and the two-year-old Kentucky coffee tree made it through the winter. Two and a half weeks from now I'll be looking at planting tomatoes and basil. We have a new wheelbarrow, lots of mulch waiting, and I have plans starting to take shape in my head. Bring it on, March!

condiment experiment: Mangoes and Curry Leaves by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid

Last night I attempted a couple of recipes in my new, beautiful cookbook (it's more of a coffee table book, really, so pretty and unweildy) Mangoes and Curry Leaves by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid. I made three condiment sauces to go along with fishy's [superdelicious] chicken curry. There were two hits and one miss. The hits were lovely. The miss was... spectacular.

I did the Hot Sweet Date-Onion Chutney and the Fresh Coriander-Peanut Chutney, both from page 28, and then the Mint Sambol from page 32.

The chutneys were lovely, and I can see the date chutney becoming a favourite. It is indeed sweet, and it has a lovely hot kick that's not painful; very pleasant. The cooked onions give the whole thing a very roasty, tasty flavour, cooked as they were in sesame oil. I was a bit concerned that the sesame oil might be too strongly flavoured, but I think it was perfect. Given the few ingredients and the simplicity of it, I'm really impressed with the complexity of the flavours. Makes a nice dip, and I think would also be really good with samosas or veggie pakora.

The cilantro chutney was really nice paired with the curry because it has a very fresh, tangy zip that cuts through the richness and spice of a curry. We couldn't find cayennes or serranos, so we made it with jalapenos. It worked out fine, but I'd definitely be interested in testing out other types of peppers in that recipe.

And then there was the mint sambol. I did this is with the mortar and pestle, which in itself is a fair bit of work. Which would have been fine if it had turned out.

I don't know what I did. I thought I'd followed the recipe (except for the hot pepper types, again) but the resulting dish was so unbelievably salty it was inedible. I don't know if I didn't have enough mint, or enough lime juice, or if the difference in the pepper types would have solved the problem, but fishy and I each tasted it (him despite my dire warnings that his arteries would immediately solidify into solid columns of salt) and then we threw out the rest. I really liked the idea of the mint sambol, so it was definitely disappointing. And unpleasant.

However, I'm certainly going to keep trying recipes from this book. There's another sambol mentioned, spicy and sweet, that I might attempt next, keeping a close eye on the amount of salt I use, of course.

Hot Sweet Date-Onion Chutney
pg. 28 of Mangoes and Curry Leaves by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid

• 3 dried red chiles, stemmed
• 2 tablespoons raw sesame oil, or vegetable oil, or ghee
• 1 large white onion (about 1/2 pound), coarsely chopped
• 1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
• 1/2 cup chopped pitted dates

"Put the chiles in a small bowl, add 1 cup hot water, and set aside to soak for 10 minutes. Meanwhile, heat the oil in a wok or karhai (see Glossary) or a wide heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onion and salt and cook until the onion is well touched with brown, about 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside.

"Drain the chiles, place them in a food processor, add the chopped dates, and process for 30 seconds to finely chop. Add the onion mixture and process for about 15 seconds to chop and blend the ingredients. Alternatively, place the drained chiles on a flaat stone mortar and grind to a paste with the pestle, add the dates and grind, and finally, add the cooked onion mixture and coarsely grind, leaving some small chunks.

"Taste the chutney for salt, and adjust if necessary. Serve in a condiment dish. (Store leftovers in a well-sealed glass jar in the refridgerator for up to several weeks). Makes 1 cup; serves 6."

For more recipes and commentary on the above recipe (or to see the Glossary) please check out the cookbook! Especially recommended for food culture junkies and food p**n addicts like me.

my favourite scavengers: blogging for vultures

I had no idea that today was International Vulture Awareness Day until yesterday, when posts and tweets started cropping up. To be honest, I had no idea it existed at all. But I thought, why not? These poor maligned creatures need some love, and I'm happy to join in the chorus of people who want to raise the profile of this unique group of birds, which contains several species around the world. I've always been rather fond of them, and I'm glad to note that there's an entire community of people out there who are just as if not more fond of them than I.

Vultures are possibly so maligned because they eat carrion, and are therefore reviled with the same strength that other carrion eaters (ie. crows) tend to be. But that's ridiculous. If we didn't have vultures we'd be up to our necks in rotting roadkill, and I, for one, am grateful that someone will eat that stuff. They're an integral part of the world's ecosystems and they are often completely overlooked if not outright discriminated against. The major issue that is being raised by IVAD today is the plight of vultures in Asia, which are being poisoned by the vetrinary drug Diclofenac, which is used to treat cattle -- if the cattle die in the fields, the vultures eat them (as they are wont to do) but the drug builds up in the vulture's system and eventually causes death.

Here in Canada we have one regularly occurring species, the turkey vulture. We also occasionally get black vultures popping up as far north as Point Pelee, or Toronto -- but that's a rarity and excuse for celebration and frantic scrabbling among Ontarian twitchers. We're lucky (and the vultures are lucky) because turkey vultures are doing quite well here, even expanding their range further into Canada.

Turkey vultures were one of the very first birds that I was able to reliably recognize, and so even if I didn't think they were cool, I would love them just for that. I also find them to be one of the easier birds to help kids identify. Turkey vultures make a "v" with their wings when they're soaring: "v" for vulture. Big and black, hardly ever flapping, with silvery primaries and a bald red head. A lot of people think they're ugly, but I think they have a wonderful if unique beauty about them. Their little nekkid heads with their big eyes are quite compelling.

I'm told, by people who will know, that turkey vultures are one of the brighter species of large birds and we can tell this because they are social creatures. They like to hang out with other vultures. One of the coolest things I've ever seen was a group of turkey vultures hiding from a rainstorm underneath the awning of a little hydro building out in the middle of a field. They were all hunched over, and clearly vying for the best and driest spots. I'm also told that turkey vultures are exceedingly tidy birds, very vain, constantly preening. Which is counterintuitive for a lot of people, given the vulture's diet.

Other cool turkey vulture facts:

• they are one of the very few birds with a sense of smell, and it's quite acute in the area of rotting meat
• their head is "bald" (actually, turkey vultures have a very fine downy layer over their heads, nearly impossible to see unless very close to them) because vultures like to get their heads right into their meals, and feathers would a) get in the way and b) get stinky and likely full of germs and parasites
• they are related to herons
• they migrate, but are one of the first birds back here in Ontario in the spring, and one of the later ones to leave

I'd love to meet a turkey vulture some day. We've attempted to see them closer once, by throwing a raw hamburger on the lawn at the cottage just to see if the vultures circling over would come down to investigate. I think the hamburger was too fresh, though, although it had gone off by our standards. Or perhaps there wasn't enough hamburger. Vultures are big birds. Um. So, yes. There's your weird fact about me for the day: I tried unsuccessfully to set up a vulture feeder.

Spread the vulture love, everyone, and happy International Vulture Awareness Day!

Other people I follow who love vultures around the world:
Steve Creek
bogbumper
Bird Canada
Behind the Bins
Birdorable