a man and his hoe

every day is a good day

Author: theMan

  • Of Skunk Cabbage and Coffee Beans


    When we left Seattle twelve years ago, we thought we would be deprived of some creature comforts living so far from the city. Pleasantly, that has not turned out to be the case. If anything, it seems that it is the city folk who have to go without. How many people in the city have a nearby coffee roaster they can call up in the morning to have a coffee beans roasted to their specification? And I doubt there are any in the city who get to enjoy a pleasant bicycle ride, passing watery ditches full of blooming skunk cabbage, to pick up coffee beans roasted just for them.

    This summer I gave Gilda a sample of the coffee beans we like, and asked her if she could tell what kind of beans they were, and if she could come up with a similar roast. It didn’t take her long to match the roast, and now, whenever we need more coffee beans, I just call her in the morning, and pick up the beans in the afternoon.


    It’s a pleasant bike ride to her roasting cabin, and today, the ditches on the sides of the roads were bursting with blooming skunk cabbage, Lysichiton americanus. They are a sure sign that you are living in the north. The first time I saw skunk cabbage in bloom was as a fourteen year old, traveling on my own in Hokkaido in early summer. There, the skunk cabbage, Lysichiton camtschatcensis, have white blossoms.

    And I doubt city folk have a coffee roaster who has the time to chat about gardening when they pick up their coffee beans. Without a line of impatient customers behind me, I get a guided tour of Gilda’s garden to see what is blooming and advice on how to keep chipmunks from digging up tomato plants, instead of a busy clerk handing me coffee beans and yelling, “Next!”

  • Spring Steps Closer


    The snow geese are still here, making the fields as white as the snow covered mountains. It’s only a matter of weeks before they take off for the far north. As they finish their winter sojourn here, are they dreaming of feasting on swarms of mosquitos in the tundra? Are they arguing whether to take the scenic route or the quickest route? Are the couples quarreling over how many chicks to raise?


    The lilac buds are swelling. The crocus are pushing out of the ground. At the faintest sign of light, birdsong fills the air.



    The sweet daphne, one of my favorite flowers, is in bloom. You can get drunk just by smelling them. It takes just one small sprig with a blossom to fill your whole house with their perfume. A native of southern China, here it is thousands of miles from its homeland, scenting the early spring air.



    The cherry buds are puffing out, their pink perhaps shame at taking so long to bloom this year? Grain the birds didn’t eat has sprouted in the bird feeder. Grain seeds are complex structures. They are packets of nutrients with built in digestive systems to turn the stored starches into sugars for the young sprouts. A host of enzymes break down the starches into sugars to feed the new shoots. When grains like wheat and rye are ground into flour, these enzymes are still there, so when you add water to flour and let it sit, the water activates the enzymes and they go to work breaking down the starches into complex sugars, which is why, you get the most delicious breads if you first just mix the flour with water and let it rest for hours and hours.

  • What Is That Light in Yonder Sky?


    Pray tell, what is that light in yonder sky? What is that blue up above? After an eternity of dark clouds, snow, rain, mist, slashing winds and gales, the sun rises again. It was a shock to step outside and see sunlight making the tree tops glow, to see the sky blue again, not to feel the damp air wet my hair and fog my glasses. I’d forgotten what sunlight is. Now I can hold out my webbed hands and feet and let the sun melt the webs away.


    The growing chicks are ravenous this morning. They gorge themselves in preparation for a full day out in the sunshine, their eyes seeing many things for the first time as the sun fills the gardens and woods with the brightest light they have ever seen.

  • Before … After


    Before she lays her egg, Kumo-hime 雲姫 is quiet, patient, alert, meditative. Perhaps she is practicing her grand performances in her head.


    After she lays her egg, she is Julia Andrews auditioning for “The Sound of Music”, Beyonce practicing for the Super Bowl, Maria Callas at La Scala, her full throttled voice ringing over hill and dale.


    Hope of spring arriving is not dead. It is alive. The stinging nettles have pushed out of the soggy earth. Yes, yes, yes! It’s stinging nettle soup tonight! Wear thick gloves when you pick these if you don’t want your fingers feeling like a million microscopic needles are pricking them for several days. A peeled potato diced, perhaps cauliflower chopped, simmered slowly in milk with stinging nettles just picked, and a pinch or two of salt, and you have all you need to make the best spring soup known to humankind. At the end, blend it well, and top with a bit of heavy cream.

  • Spring Suspended


    Spring suspended, camellia blossoms that won’t open, peony buds with fingers clasped tightly shut, fat hydrangea buds turning purple from waiting so long to open, spring is suspended until the sun returns. The forecast says we’ll have a peek at some sunshine nine days from now, in the meantime it’s a chance to watch spring unfold in sloooow motion.