Cookery Maven Blog

My Garden In June

We put in a flower garden when we bought our house in 2007 and I had no idea what I was doing, planting or weeding. I was new to the gardening game and had a steep learning curve. I planted all sorts of things and hoped for the best. Not everything survived my Darwinian approach to gardening but what survived is thriving and gives me immeasurable joy.

May Sarton said, 'Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace.' I get on my knees in the dirt, tend to my flowers and pull weeds while the dogs wait nearby. There is something so satisfying about pulling grass out of the garden and getting every inch of root out with it.

It's starting— the flowers are beginning to wake up and the garden is taking shape. Looking outside my window makes me smile.

The sound of visiting bees gives me joy; I like to think they love the garden as much as I do.

Pink and orange— one of my absolute favorite color combinations.

Guinness, our Newfie, was my faithful gardening companion. He would sit outside the garden and wait for me to finish my chores. Thankfully, Seamus picked up the torch after Guinness passed and now all the dogs hang out with me while I weed.

The Cavaliers Go To The Beach

George and I go to the beach a lot. Sometimes, we take the Cavaliers. They are not an obvious choice for a sand, water and focused ball retrieving adventure but they each find a little something to do.

Seamus looks for a feather and once he finds it, carries it in his mouth the entire walk. If he doesn't find a feather, he attempts to retrieve the ball with George. Talk about an uneven playing field, he doesn't have a chance. I find a stick for him, throw it about 5 feet from shore and he jumps in the water and fetches it (he never give it back, he is a Cavalier after all).

Gus looks for birds to chase. Another uneven playing field. He is a little portly and has very short legs but he gamely takes off at breakneck speed after every bird he sees. Occasionally he will end up in the water. Given his body type, I think he is pretty buoyant but he is definitely not a fan of water sports and leaves the lake right away.

Henry is the one dog who can leave the beach as clean and dry as when he arrived. He sticks by my side the entire walk. He wouldn't know what to do with a stick if his life depended on it. However, he does know what to do with a knife. I came into the kitchen yesterday and he was walking around with one of my knives in his mouth. He was holding it by the handle. The knife was covered in frosting and I think he was planning an after school snack.

An Ode To George

I was in Ironwood Michigan for a swim meet with the kids three years ago and I forgot to bring snacks. A trip to the grocery store was in order. As I headed into the Super One, a poster on the community message board caught my eye— three darling little labrador puppies. I exercised some restraint and walked into the store without the phone number. My restraint beat a hasty retreat in the granola bar aisle, I paid for my groceries and wrote down the number (just in case I needed a lab puppy). After consulting the kids, I decided I needed a puppy and made the phone call. I did not, however, call Ted. First rule of healthy marital relations— always consult Ted before procuring a puppy. It all worked out in the end and George is a stellar member of the Dougherty family.

Ten reasons why George is my favorite (don't tell the Cavaliers, thank God they can't read).

1. He has a big, blocky head.

2. He knows how to open large jars of peanut butter.

3. When you ask him if he is hungry, he runs to the garbage can.

4. He likes to ride shotgun, with the seat warmer on.

5. There are at least 100 tennis balls in my house and in the yard.

6. He knows how to source his own food in the kitchen.

7. He loves Will.

8. He likes to carry around my Tory Burch Reva flats in his mouth (I think he pretends they are a duck and he is a hunting dog).

9. The beach is his idea of Nirvana.

10. He thinks 'sit' means drop the ball (sometimes).

Beach Day With The Boys

Where's the ball? It's cold in here.

Ted and George on a driftwood littered beach.

Henry strikes a pose.

An embrace in wood.

Henry and Gus in the surf.

Surrender

I took George to the beach yesterday. It was snowing sideways, the waves were hitting the beach hard and the wind was howling— savage beauty. George and I love the beach in all its incarnations: rain-soaked, shrouded in fog, bathed in sunlight or snowbound. I love the beach so much it makes me wax poetic. Seriously, walking the beach is my version of meditation and given the grey noise in my world, a little meditation is a good thing. In between wishing I had worn a hat and gloves, I was thinking about surrender and what it really means.

As I get older, I have begun to see the freedom of surrendering in my life. I have spent 42 years bound and determined to drive my bus whenever, wherever and however I want. It gets exhausting. My mantra lately is to allow space for change. The tricky part for me is realizing the change I am making space for may not be what I envisioned. As I was walking yesterday, I realized true surrender, not surrender on my terms, is trusting what's next is greater than anything I could have dreamt for myself. The beach is my cathedral, I would be lost without the cleansing power of wind and water.

I have walked by a large piece of driftwood on the beach countless times. Yesterday, something caught my eye and I stopped. There is a raven's head, clear as day, on one of the branches. As I stood there in amazement, I knew whatever lies ahead of me, the nurturing guidance of the natural and spiritual worlds is ever-present. On the way back to the car (I really should have worn a hat), I found a perfect dragonfly dusted with sand and snow. I picked it up and brought it home; I thought my warm kitchen might revive it. No such luck, it was a victim of the snow storm. I am going to save it with a note that says, 'surrender to mystery'.

My dear friend, Mindy, sent me C. P. Cavafy's poem, 'Ithaca', right before Good Thyme opened. We have been friends for 22 years and she knew exactly what to give me to mark the beginning of a life I had dreamed of. It eloquently reminds me to relish the journey.

Ithaca

As you set out for Ithaca
hope the voyage is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope the voyage is a long one.
May there be many a summer morning when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you come into harbors seen for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to gather stores of knowledge from their scholars.

Keep Ithaca always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you are destined for.
But do not hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you are old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.

Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you will have understood by then what these Ithacas mean.

C.P. Cavafy

A Fond Farewell To Winter

Wham, bam, thank you ma'am- winter came and went in a hurry this year. I took this picture last week, before the string of 60 degree days made short work of what little winter we had. Sleds and well worn snow are giving way to spring, copious amounts of mud and tender green shoots and buds. I am hoping to find all the boots and shoes George brought outside in the past five months but neglected to bring back....his idea of productivity and mine are startlingly different at times!

Spring Break Has Sprung

We had a mellow day ahead of us. No one got out of bed until 9:30 (we are still getting used to the 'spring forward' time change). I walked into the kitchen to make coffee and then BAM- the dogs went crazy, slammed the door open and flew outside. Here we go, I thought and followed them outside with some trepidation. They had made a new friend, a hound I didn't recognize but seemed happy to be hanging out at the Dougherty's. It was raining, he looked hungry and I had extra turkey in the refrigerator. I ushered him into the porch, made him a snack and started to think, five dogs isn't too much, right?? I swear, I am a beacon for lost dogs. They know I will take them in, feed them lunch or dinner and give them a little love until they find their way home.

I remember the first dog I wanted to rescue, he was a Golden Retriever from the Golden Valley Humane Society named King. Ted and I had just started dating and I used to be a frequent visitor to the Humane Society (just to visit, not adopt). I thought I would bring my brand new boyfriend along for the ride and test his dog loving mettle. The afternoon quickly dissolved into tears. I met King and I was immediately smitten. I did not understand why on earth Ted would not adopt an 80 pound Golden for me. Needless to say, lunch at Shelly's Woodroast was a poor substitute for King and I went home empty-handed. Ever since that day 23 years ago, I have found countless dogs and wanted to rescue even more. While Ted did not adopt King, he has agreed (more or less) to sharing his house and bedroom with four independently minded dogs.

Back to the latest lost dog to find me. I took a picture of him and posted it to Facebook- no luck. I called the Bayfield Police Department and left a message for the police chief. This was not my first message to Bud. About five years ago, we had just moved up here and I was completely unfamiliar with wild animals- particularly bears. I swear I read bears that are not afraid of humans have dementia and are dangerous. Well, one lovely spring morning, a bear ambled into my yard about 20 feet from my daughter and to my untrained wildlife eye, appeared completely nonplussed by Sadie's presence. What's a girl to do?? Leave a phone message to the police chief about demented bears and could he come up here and do something about it? Bud drove up, gave me a toll-free number for the DNR and assured me he has never seen a bear with dementia. At least the message I left today was much more mundane- just a lost dog. The dog's owners called the police to report the wandering fellow and Bud knew just where to direct them. There was a 12-year-old boy in the car with an enormous smile on his face when he saw his pal, it was a good ending.

Spring has sprung in Bayfield, it was a gloriously rainy day. Trees that were covered in snow a little over two weeks ago were glistening with raindrops this afternoon. While the mud is enough to drive me mad (five dogs would have been too much), my first afternoon spent in the garden can't be far off. After all the dog wrangling, I was famished. I made myself a proper lunch of pâté, cornichons, dijon mustard, baguette and a generous slice of Fromager d'Affinois (it has a raw honey like finish...amazing!). All in all, it was a good start to our spring break.

Snowy Morning

My dogs are an alarm clock, every morning we get up and take a walk outside. Well, they run around and I typically stand in one place, attempting to wake up. This morning was particularly beautiful. Two or three inches of fluffy snow on the ground and snowflakes drifting downward. I guess sometimes it pays to get up early.

And So It Begins

I have to tell you, writing the first blog post of your very own blog is a little mind bending. Where should I start? A funny aside about my food obsessed yellow lab, George? A touching story about taking my two daughters and their friends to Minneapolis for the weekend? A tidbit from our family archive when we took our five kids across Lake Superior, in a boat, to Isle Royale? I opted to keep it short and simple. A first blog post should be a little like cocktail party conversations- a brief overview, a funny anecdote and a promise to get together soon. Here are the players you will get to know over the course of my blogging adventure. Trust me, they are a brilliant bunch of people, critters and places.

Ted- captain of the ship, leader of the pack and the man with a plan.