Almond trees in August

We had to remove our ailing Almond tree from the orchard. It was a sad moment. Our orchard was planned to produce fruit and nuts. Picking one’s own fruit and nuts is a luxurious experience. Almond blossoms have a very distinctive fragrance, which I missed in the orchard this spring.

The road to Ashton from Bonnievale

Another casualty this year was a Plum tree. That left me with two spaces to fill. As usual I could not decide what to do. The possibilities were endless. From avocado, pecan nut, mango, cherries to so many trees I would love to have included in our orchard. After considering the pros and cons of many options, we decided to bring back the almonds. Almond trees need to cross pollenate and although there are other Almond trees in the area, we decided to plant two to make it easier for the bees to cross pollinate the trees in the same garden.

After doing my homework to ensure that I choose the correct two varieties that will cross pollinate, I ordered the two trees from Ashton Nursery. Ashton Nursery specialises in fruit trees and roses. Driving to Ashton provided for an incredible experience, with nature putting on a show of colour over wide swathes of the veld. The display forms a sharp contrast to the large vineyards that are standing bare and stark in the landscape. They are waiting for more serious sunshine before bursting out in their green finery.

I love the vineyards and orchards in the valley. But the patches of veld bursting into colour is the best in late winter/early spring. I wonder sometimes if we humans are worthy curators of this world. At Towerwater, we try to live in harmony with nature. Hoping to leave a better world for the generation after us. When I look at the scale of pollution that is killing our world, I fear for what will be left when we are all gone.

We have found that a traditional way of life is very harmonious with nature and the environment. Practices that were used in the past never harmed nature. Regrettably, they have been replaced with quick fixes that fit our current fast-paced lives. The blog is my way of recording traditions that might otherwise be forgotten.

I sometimes wonder if there are enough people that care about our disappearing crafts and traditions. The statistics for the blog tell me that there is still a healthy interest in what we do at Towerwater. After starting the blog six years ago it currently has more than 122 700 views.

I write for the joy of recording the small things that makes life worth living. I appreciate the fact that somebody enjoys reading it as much as I am its writing.

Happy sixth birthday, blog!

Other birthday posts

Of birthdays and blossoms - 2019

A life imagined - 2018

Looking back to the future - 2017

Reflections - 2016

Happy birthday blog - 2015

Heading for spring -2014

Getting crafty with quince canes

Each year, the quince trees alongside the herb garden produce the longest, straightest canes. Each year sees us cutting them back to maintain a comfortable height for picking the fruit. This year we were pruning against time. But I have always puzzled how I could put the cane off-cuts to some useful purpose in the garden.

I admire the craft of willow weaving. It was a craft which often served to be useful in traditional kitchen gardens. I know that willow canes must be very flexible and conducive for use in weaving and basket making. Basketry is the oldest craft in the world and is believed to predate pottery.

Quince cane cuttings

Original forms of basketry would have been very vernacular and dependent on the materials available nearest their homes. Houses were built with basket work (wattle) and daubed with mud, making for a very vernacular and environmentally friendly architecture.

Pruned quince trees and cuttings, the weaving process and finished product

Baskets were especially important for use in storing, transporting, and packaging food and more. The introduction of plastic had a huge impact on the basket industry. In Britain, 14 000 professional basket makers were recorded in 1891. Today there is thought to be around 200.

It is sad that something so environmentally friendly could have been replaced by something that is one of the biggest threats to our environment.

I decided to try and use the quince canes in making woven plant trellises for runner beans or any other plant needing support in the garden. The quince canes were not as flexible as I had hoped, but I still managed to weave some obelisks that look very rustic. They add a traditional feel to the garden.

I will have to keep them out of the soil until they are dry enough. Planting the trellises in the soil right after pruning will surely encourage rooting. It might make for an interesting living sculpture in the garden but for now, I am happy with the four quince trees that are already producing such an abundant annual crop.

I am pleased with the result of my woven trellises. I have decided that I should produce more next winter when, hopefully, I will have more time. It felt right to produce a functional item from the garden, for the garden. The ancient craft of weaving with cane, and in this case, quince canes, makes for very Karoo vernacular garden sculptures. 

Towerwater Dijon Mustard

My philosophy in life is that, if you cannot find an ingredient, make it. Our return to Cape Town allowed us access to fresh Norwegian salmon and other favourites. I was happy to be able to make gravadlax again. When I tried to find Dijon mustard within walking distance from where we live in Woodstock, I was surprised to discover that it was unavailable. Instead, I was offered a variety of what resembles mustard in plastic squeeze bottles.

True to nature, I started a little research on Dijon mustard. My searches always start with the historical, traditional, original, or authentic. There is still a tiny bit of purist left in me. I always start at the very beginning. Oops, now I sound more like Julie Andrews.

Apparently, we have Jean Naigeon to thank for Dijon mustard. He created this delicacy in 1752 when he substituted verjuice (the juice of unripe grapes) for vinegar in his mustard recipe.

Mustard seeds and fresh herbs in verjuice

I decided to try my hand at mustard making, and not any mustard. It had to be Dijon mustard. I did consider making a Roman mustard from a recipe believed to be about 2000 years old. It contains among other things, pine nuts and almonds.

Fermented mustard seeds

Finding the ingredients for Dijon mustard also proved to be a challenge under lockdown. I could only find yellow and black mustard seeds and verjuice is not readily available under normal circumstances. I eventually managed to find all the ingredients and decided to use a recipe for original Dijon mustard I found online, as guide.

Blending mustard seeds in an ice bath

Towerwater Dijon Mustard

Ingredients:

200g black mustard seeds (Atlas Trading, Cape Town sells them in handy 100g bags)
250ml Verjuice
1 garlic clove crushed
a few sprigs of thyme
2 bay leaves
½ a nutmeg grated
3 cloves
4 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp salt
1 tsp black peppercorns
1 tsp green peppercorns

Method:

Place the crushed garlic, fresh bay leaves and thyme in a bowl. Add the mustard seeds and cover with verjuice. Cover the bowl with clingwrap and refrigerate for 36 hours. Place the fermented mustard seeds in the freezer for 30 minutes before you blend it with a blender.

Remove the garlic, thyme and bay leaves. Grind the cloves and peppercorns in a pestle and mortar and add it to the mustard seeds. Add the salt and grated nutmeg to the mustard seeds. Take a larger bowl than the one that contains your fermented mustard seeds and add ice cubes and water to make an ice bath in which to place your bowl of fermented mustard seeds. This will help avoid elevating the temperature of the mustard seeds while blending. Mustard seeds are overly sensitive to heat, and elevated temperatures will impact on the texture and flavour.

I decided to make an ancient style mustard. One can strain the mustard paste from the mustard seeds if you prefer a creamier style mustard.

The 200g mustard seeds produces two large jars of mustard that I will keep in the fridge where they will continue improving with age. We are looking forward to this new taste experience.

Soon, I will be able to use Towerwater Dijon mustard when making the next batch of homemade gravadlax. No more searching for illusive ingredients, as I contemplate more unique Towerwater flavoured mustards and verjuice pickling options for the Towerwater larder.

Our winter garden

While humanity was pre-occupied with the Coronavirus, the rest of the natural world continued as normal. We are enjoying a near perfect old-fashioned Cape winter with wind, rain and storms. The dam levels keep on rising and we are enjoying the best year for water capacity that we have experienced in a long while.

With the introduction of a hard lockdown in late March, everything came to a standstill except for mother nature. The trees still lost their leaves, roses went to sleep, and the citrus still ripened. Unfortunately for us, we were desperately trying to finish renovating Keith’s family home when lockdown was implemented and life as we know it came to a halt.

When the lockdown was eased to level 3 in June, the builders could return to their respective projects. We decided to return to Cape Town to give Keith the opportunity to keep a close eye on the progress of the renovation. It became an intense involvement, consuming every moment of our lives, including weekends.

Towerwater had to be placed on hold for the time being. Unfortunately, the Towerwater garden cannot be put on hold indefinitely. The garden embraces Mother Nature completely, with the associated seasonal activities demanded by a productive garden.

With a stormy weekend predicted for Cape Town, we decided to take the opportunity to head to Towerwater to start chipping away at garden chores that were now a month overdue. The roses and fruit trees needed to have been pruned by 15 July and the vegetable and herb beds needed preparation for the summer season.

Arriving at Towerwater was a joy. Fungai had kept Mother Nature in check. The garden showed none of the recent gale damage from which some townsfolk were still recovering. The garden inspired thoughts of Pablo Neruda and the three titles of his poetry collections that I had recently acquired. Winter Garden, The Separate Rose and Still Another Day.

The Winter Garden that greeted us needed some tender care, while The Separate Rose, long overdue for pruning, was still blooming, giving us Still Another Day to regain control before spring.

I was on the responsibility schedule for publishing the daily Covid-19 statistics for the Western Cape province on the Western Cape government website. That left Keith alone, braving the cold and intermittent rain, to begin the pruning of the roses. Luckily the colder than normal (the last number of years) weather has forced them into a deeper sleep. As a result, it seems that they might not mind the late pruning.

The fruit trees, however, could not wait. The early peaches and nectarines are in blossom. These trees are still young and perhaps it will be good to assess their natural growth for guidance before pruning them next winter. The trees that bear in autumn can still be pruned. All in all, we might still be able to catch up with Mother Nature.

There seems to be a calmness in the garden. The birds are more relaxed, a state of being I have noticed when there were no recent killings by a cat or predatory bird. Perhaps the cold inhibits the killer instinct in winter. Our winter garden is patiently waiting for us to sculpt it into spring with secateurs, spade and rake as we meditate about life in the time of pandemic.

The collections of poetry by Pablo Neruda comprise three of the eight manuscripts published posthumously. I found them different, more meditative but unmistakably Neruda. I enjoyed “Winter Garden” the most.

A Winter Garden is fitting for the times in which we live. Pablo Neruda meditates on his imminent death from cancer, embraces solitude, and returns to nature as a source of regeneration. The poem Egoist, has this verse.

"This is the hour
of fallen leaves, their dust
scattered over the earth, when
they return to the depths of being and not being
and abandon the gold and the greenery
until they are roots again,
and again, torn down and being born,
they rise up to know the spring."

The Egoist - Pablo Neruda

On winter days I enjoy reading poetry while winter writes its own poetry with raindrops on windowpanes, that temporarily turn the garden into a constantly changing impressionist painting.