Next 2015 Presentation - Old Bristol Garden Club

Tom looks at cattails.

Come enjoy a presentation of spring edibles for the Old Bristol Garden Club on April 9. Meetings are held at the 2nd Congregational Church at 51 Main Street in Newcastle.
The meeting begins at 1:30PM and the presentation runs from 1:50PM to 2:30PM. The public is invited to all meetings and there is no fee.
Pick up your own copy of Wild Plants of Maine after the presentation.

Pine Needle Tea

This unusually cold and long-lasting winter has me down. And I suspect that it has taken its toll on you, too. I’m scouring my shelves for wild foods that I have preserved and though I still have plenty of dandelions and goosetongue on hand, they are only a substitute for fresh, wild green things.

With ankle-deep snow on the ground and nighttime temperatures well below zero (it was minus-6 last night), the possibility of some early-season foraging seems quite remote. But there is something we can harvest right now and in fact, it was available all winter. Tree tea.

Some conifers offer a delicious and healthful (vitamin C) tea. The needles (leaves) are picked fresh, chopped up, covered with boiling water and steeped. White pine is my favorite source of tree tea. It has a pleasant scent that relaxes me. Any pine is suitable for tea-making purposes, though.

So I will go out today and break my way through the snow crust to the nearest white pine, gather a handful of needles and bring them back inside for a nice, hot cup of white pine tea.

In other news, my schedule is filling up for summertime field trips and seminars. I might mention to anyone looking for a fun few hours this summer, that I’m at Spruce Point Inn in Boothbay Harbor every Tuesday, beginning on July 8 and continuing through August 26. I believe my sessions begin at 12:30 p.m. and last until 2:p.m., but the exact time is yet to be determined. Nonetheless, I mention this for the following reason.

Spruce Point Inn hires me for the benefit of their clients. We walk the grounds and I identify different wild plants and explain their uses. The inn owners kindly allow non-clients to participate as well. So if any readers of this blog would like to have a fun, relaxing time some Tuesday afternoon this summer, just come to Spruce Point Inn and join my plant walk.

I’ll post the exact date as the season nears, but with so many people “thinking spring” at this point, I wanted to reiterate the offer of coming to Boothbay Harbor and walking around the grounds of this scenic peninsula, searching for wild plants.

Readers may feel free to contact me about this any time. You have my contact information on the bio portion of this blog.

Meanwhile, take heart. The cold may try and convince us that winter will never leave, but the nighttime sky tells a different story. The springtime constellation Leo the Lion is coming up now and the sun grows stronger with each passing day. Spring will come. It’s just a matter of time. 

Expiration Dates

I mentioned something in a recent newspaper column that bears repeating here. It’s a way of looking beyond the present and anticipating the future. In this case, it’s a way to put the cold and snow of winter in a box and isolate it while we welcome the coming spring.

I refer to expiration dates printed on perishable items such as eggs. I bought a carton of eggs two days ago and noticed that the expiration date was March 13. That’s only seven days away from the first day of spring.

Likewise, I was in the eye doctor’s office last week and the receptionist made out a card for my next appointment. It was in early May. The first thing that came to mind had nothing to do with eye health, either. Instead, I thought, “Spring. That’s spring. I’ll be fiddleheading and trolling for salmon.”

So near and yet so far, spring is, especially when nighttime temperatures sit a zero and don’t budge until mid-morning the next day.

Of course I don’t pay much attention to expiration dates on egg cartons in fall, because it only reminds me of impending winter and the end of growing things, at least for a while. But now, in late winter, every little bit of cheer I can latch on to helps to buoy my spirits.

Everything passes, including winter. Soon sap will drip from maple limbs broken during December’s ice storm. Flocks of red-winged blackbirds will descend upon fields and lawns and wild plants will push up through the newly-thawed soil. It won’t be long now. And if you don’t believe me, just check out the date on a carton of eggs. 

More Land Posting Keeps Foragers Out

What a letdown. What a sad commentary upon our culture…or lack thereof. I went out to pick fiddleheads this week and found no less than three of my favorite, old-time sites posted. You might ask why I don’t just call or visit the landowners and ask permission. It is certainly the thing to do. But I’m old. And I was brought up understanding something called, “permissive trespass.” That means that if land isn’t posted, anyone can legally venture upon it for whatever reason. So if someone nails one of those gross-looking yellow “posted” signs on every tree and telephone pole, that tells me that they don’t want me around. And I never was much of a one to stay where I wasn’t wanted. In my youth, few people ever posted their land. We all respected each other and it was simply understood that it was mean-spirited to put up those ugly yellow signs. It was demeaning toward the one putting up the signs. In my mind, it still is. I simply cannot like someone who does that. It’s a terrible thing, too, for me to feel that way and I admit it. But the old ways are gone. Things have changed and continue to change, and fast. It is certainly a landowner’s right to post, but so often people do it because they can, rather than because they need to. That needs re-stating. To post for no other reason than it is your right is just plain mean. There is just no other way around it. I was brought up in Mid-Coast Maine and now I feel as though it is no longer my home. Things have gotten that bad. I would move and am considering moving, but don’t know where I could go to find the old-time Maine way of life intact. Is it possible? I don’t know. Where can one go to find a place where people love their neighbors? Where is it that we still have respect for our fellows and welcome them rather than work to keep them at arm’s length? I still don’t know. But enough of this sad philosophizing. I called an old friend today, a friend with lots of land, a friend who does not post because he considers that a mean thing to do. And his land has lots of fiddleheads. I went and picked as many as I needed for myself and also, for the World War II veteran who I supply with fiddleheads each year. So there is still some good in this world. I apologize to my readers for harping upon this topic, but it has become so troubling. A way of life, a culture, is fast disappearing and in fact, is more alive in memory than reality. But old dogs have trouble changing their ways, and I’m surely an old dog of the Maine-woods type. So while my heart breaks every time someone new purchases and posts a beloved bit of wild land that I have roamed since my youth, I also see that it does little good to wallow in despair and longing for the old days. The old days are gone and will never return. We may as well expect our dead grandparents to arise from their graves as to think that things will go back to the way they were. So I, and we, must look to the future, to what remains. And plenty remains. We live in a vast, forested state and thankfully, various private groups are purchasing wildlands for posterity. I do think that land trusts and similar organizations are our greatest hope. By the way, when walking on my friend’s land, with permission, I got enough fiddleheads for myself and also, to give a heaping portion to my almost 90-year old American hero. So that’s good enough for me for the time being. May your days afield be filled with sunshine, warmth and a growing love and respect for the ways of our forbears and for our wonderful natural world.

Forager's delight

A bout with bronchitis has laid me low and unable to go afield in search of wild plants. Fortunately, my garden has begun to produce beans, chard and summer squash, all favorites of mine.

Also, some garden “weeds” remain, having been purposely spared in order that I might harvest them upon maturity. One of these, purslane, is welcome indeed. This requires but little energy (something I am in short supply of at the moment) to pick…just grab and lift from the loose, garden soil. And if an entire plant comes up roots and all, what of it? Purslane self-seeds readily, so that’s not really a problem. Once established, always present.

Along with purslane and garden vegetables, trout in my pond have reached an acceptable size to harvest. These 9- to 10-inch brook trout are of a perfect length to fit in a frying pan. Also, they are just big and fat enough that one trout satisfies me.

So times are good. This is what we Mainers wait for all winter long. But make no mistake…the seasons continue to change, although it takes a bit of sleuthing to notice it. For instance, goldenrod has acquired its trademark golden hue. A few colored leaves drop from red maples and boneset has begun to bloom. These are all signs of approaching fall.

So while we revel in summer and its comfort and warmth, just remember that the “times they are a-changing.” But for now, enjoy.

Cattail Season in Maine

Many of us establish our own little traditions, things we look forward to from year-to-year. One of mine involves harvesting seedheads from common cattails, Typha latifolia, for my Fourth of July celebration.

Picking the green seedheads is easy, but finding them at just the right stage for harvesting often requires repeated visits to wetlands or small ponds. When ready for cooking, the seedheads (that is, the sausage-shaped spikes atop the plant) should be light green in color and just soft enough to crumble under moderate pressure from a thumbnail.

It takes but little effort to snap many dozens of ripe seedheads from a colony of cattails. And the week of July 4, give or take a few days, stands as the height of cattail season in Maine.

Take the spikes home and set a pot of water to a rolling boil. Drop in the seedheads and cook for about 10 minutes. Drain and serve with butter, salt and pepper. Then, treat as per corn-on-the-cob. Hold the seedhead by what remains of the spike and gnaw away, twisting the spike as you nibble.

I used to blanch and freeze these specialty items for winter use. But with limited freeze space, it’s difficult to decide among all the wonderful wild foods. Cattails are delicious and perhaps some will wind up in my freezer this year. But if not, that’s okay too. Such high-grade treats as these are best enjoyed fresh.

Anyone who has not tried cattail seedheads has a fine treat in store. But don’t wait too long, because the seedheads will eventually become covered with pollen and no longer good for cooking. The pollen has its uses too, but that’s a topic for a future blog.

Daisies

One line from the movie Tombstone stands out in my mind. Doc Holliday has just bested Johnny Ringo in a gunfight. As Ringo fell, Holliday looked at him and said, “You’re no daisy. You’re no daisy at all.”

Which, as you might imagine, has me thinking of daisies. Ox-eye daisies have edible buds. These taste so much like carrots that as I chew on them, I keep waiting for the crunch.

The foliage is edible too, but it’s the buds that are my favorite. These are best used in a salad, where they impart a definite carroty flavor. Don’t use too many, though, since they can overpower other elements of a garden or even a wild, salad.

Also, I see that purslane is starting to show in my garden beds. By mid-to late-July, I should have sufficient purslane for a hearty stir-fry. Then, I’ll take a picture and post it here.

Here in Waldo, Maine, the season is a bit tardy. Plants should be larger and further along than they are. But if and when sunny, warm weather reigns again, they will catch up quickly. Until then, we at least have daisies.