Picking up the apples

Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and being alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You have to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes too near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could. 

~Louise Erdrich  (from her book: The Painted Drum)

I am also literally reminded of how much fruit goes to waste in the community garden: apples, pears, plums, berries. There is bounty all around us, provided by nature, and so many people ignore it. Why? Why do we take these gifts for granted? I'll never understand it. It's hard work to pluck the fruit and to process it in different ways, but so rewarding when you take stock some weeks later of how much fruit you've managed to freeze down, make jams and jellies from, conserve (spiced pears come to mind, or plums in rum), or eat. Thanksgiving Day takes on a whole new meaning for me when I realize how much the early settlers depended on the bounty of the land for their survival. So while the analogy above is about apples as opportunities to live one's life in the most meaningful way possible, the actuality of picking up the apples also provides us with food to keep us alive. When you see how apples are produced, you will be less inclined to waste them by letting them lie on the ground or hang unpicked in the trees. And the reality of the bounty given to us will usher in new ways of looking at our life here on earth. So then we won't waste our lives or the bounty given us. 

Video of our garden--September 2016

Growing vegetables and fruits in the city

Our co-op board recently approved the purchase of ‘grønnsakskasser’ to be placed in the inner yard of our co-op so that those residents who want to grow vegetables/fruits, can do so. The word grønnsakskasse is translated into English as vegetable crate, and I guess it’s as good a translation as any, except that these crates have no bottoms, only sides, and they are much more solid that supermarket vegetable crates. They are made of thick wooden slats that connect at all four corners with interweaving metal pieces that have holes in them, so that when they are lined up, a long metal pin can be inserted through them to hold them all together. Once the crates are placed where they shall stand, you fill them with a lot of earth and then plant what you want to plant.

There were two of us in our co-op who were interested in getting one crate each in order to plant vegetables, so the co-op board bought two such crates. The other woman chose a variety of vegetables (and one fruit) to plant—cabbage, brussel sprouts, lettuce, chili peppers, and melon. I chose to plant three cherry tomato plants (technically tomatoes are fruit, but often fall under the vegetable label) and parsley. And I may plant a few herbs as well, but I want to see how all of the different plants grow before I invest more money in this project. So far, the tomato plants are doing fine and we are picking cherry tomatoes each day to have with dinner. (see photos)

It was raining lightly (more of a drizzle) the day we sat out the crates and planted our vegetable plants. Both of us were in a very good mood; we didn’t mind the rain or getting wet. We found a really old metal watering can in the cellar to water the crates; it is better than most of the new plastic ones that don’t have spouts with tiny holes. I am hoping this project takes off, because I can envision planting other types of vegetables next year—cucumbers, squash, broccoli. But we’ll need more crates, and that won’t be a problem if the outcome is successful this year. So far, the birds have left the crates alone, ditto for the cats that wander through the neighborhood. I’m hoping the human animals that wander through the yard will leave the crates in peace, but you never know. We’re hoping for the best.

Eventually, our co-op may also allow the addition of balconies to some apartments, and ours will be one of those lucky enough to get a balcony. At that point, I will be on cloud nine, because then I will be able to plant even more vegetables and flours in pots on our balcony. I’m looking forward to that day. In the meantime, our vegetable crates suffice. The take-home message is that is possible to develop a ‘green thumb’ even if you live in a city apartment building. And many cities around the world have common urban gardens for apartment residents, who enjoy working and tilling their little plot of land so that it yields produce. Oslo is no different, but the waiting lists to get such a plot are long. We are on one of those lists to get a plot in a city garden not far from where we live; we applied for one in 2009 and there were one hundred people ahead of us. The organizers contacted us last year to ask if we were still interested in getting one, and we said yes. At that point, we had moved up the list and were at place number 39. So perhaps by the time we are retired, we’ll have our own little plot of land to till and enjoy. Until then, I’m happy with my vegetable crate and eventual balcony plantings.

All About Plums

Each year during the late summer and early autumn my husband and I take some time to make preserves or jams as they’re usually called.  He usually makes a big batch of strawberry jam, which can last for several years unless we give it away as gifts. A few years ago we made a big batch of cherry preserves, along with a cherry pie and cherry liqueur. It is both a challenge and a pleasure to make all of these things yourself, and the work involved makes you appreciate what our grandparents and great grandparents’ generations did for themselves; they had to, since there were no giant supermarkets offering nearly everything you could think of. We never made jams and jellies at home when we were growing up; my parents did make pies and Italian desserts together at the holidays, and my mother made some great pies and cakes otherwise, but we never as far as I can remember made our own jams and jellies. Of course we didn’t have to—they were readily available in the supermarkets. But the fun aspect is invaluable—it really is fun to ‘make it’ yourself. And after some years I have learned to make apple butter and my own applesauce with cinnamon, as well as different kinds of marmalades. But this post is about plums.

I have been making plum preserves the past few years; they are easy to make and the jam is superb—mostly sweet but with a hint of tartness. No matter how much I make though, it is never enough. I have made preserves from several different types of plums, from the dark purple plums called Damsons to the more reddish plums that are the most common types of plums available. One of the women who used to work at my hospital had a lot of plum trees in her backyard, and she would bring in bags of plums for us—just gave them away, that’s how many plums the trees produced. I took them gladly. Besides the plum preserves, I also make plums in rum, a dessert that is heavenly and pretty simple to make—all you need are plums, rum, sugar and a big canning jar (if you have a kilo of plums then you will need a kilo of sugar and half a bottle of rum). You cut the plums in half, remove the pits, put them into the jar, cover them with sugar, add more plums, then more sugar, and when the jar is 75% full, you pour the rum over it all, close the lid, mix carefully, and then let the jar stand at room temperature for a few days until the sugar is dissolved. This is a great dessert, and when the plums are gone, the rum-sugar liquid is great as an accompaniment to vanilla ice cream. I made a jar of plums in rum today as well as a couple of jars of plum preserves. And I’m not finished yet; I still want to make more preserves. This is the kind of housework that is immensely gratifying; you see the finished results, it tastes good and the people you serve it to will be happy to eat what you made—what more could you ask for? And all of these food items make great Christmas gifts. Since it seems to be getting more and more difficult to buy Christmas gifts for friends and family (everybody has pretty much what they need), I have a feeling that I am going to opt for making food gifts for people—preserves, liqueurs, cookies, cakes and breads. They’re appreciated, they’re fun to make, and they come from the heart.  

Plum preserves

Plum preserves

Plums in rum

City Gardeners

During the last ten years or so, my husband and I became city gardeners, despite the fact that we live in a co-op apartment building without a balcony or terrace on which to set out plants and flowers. Of course we wish we had one, because we love to experiment with growing different plants from seeds as well as buying new plants at the local plant store or at Plantasjen, the larger garden center. Our kitchen, living room and dining room window sills are filled with different kinds of plants. My husband loves to nurture his orchids, and has about six orchid plants at home and about as many in his office at work. He is the only person I know who manages to get orchids to bloom more than once, and he has his weekly routines for spritzing them with water and keeping them happy. I prefer nurturing food plants; that is to say, plants that produce fruit or vegetables. I have grown tomato, pepper, orange and fig trees in our apartment, with some success. Right now I am the proud parent of an orange tree that is very fruitful, as well as a fig tree that manages to produce about three to four figs per season. My husband brought home a small cherry tomato plant at the beginning of the summer, and it has grown to some height and has produced (so far) about five cherry tomatoes. We also have a small coffee plant in the kitchen; the leaves smell good but we don’t expect to find coffee beans on the stems one day. But it looks nice in the window and one can of course dream.

The first vegetable plant I ever purchased was a small pepper plant; the peppers looked like small chili peppers but I don’t remember if we ever got more than the five or so peppers that hung on the plant when I bought it. In the summer of 2005 I grew tomato plants from seeds; only one seedling plant really took off though and I did my best to keep it happy. It even joined us on vacation that year; we rented a cottage on the sea, not so far from where we live, and I took it with us in the car and let it stand out on the large terrace that overlooked the ocean. It was there in the morning that it got a lot of sunshine. I think we may have gotten several tomatoes that year; the problem is that the plants don’t always get enough sun, or get it long enough. Summers are short in Oslo and it amazes me that my orange tree produces the numbers of oranges it produces. We got about twenty-three oranges off the tree the first year we had it; the second year saw only a yield of about four oranges, whereas the third and fourth years have been very fruitful—with yields of about twenty-five and thirty-five oranges (this year) respectively. The oranges are not large and sweet, they are small and sour, but they are beautiful to look at and during the flowering season before the oranges begin to grow, the smell in the room is wonderful. The white flowers that will produce the oranges produce an intense sweet smell that dominates the room. I use the oranges in the smoothies that we make from fresh or fresh-frozen fruit each morning, and I have used them in marmalades to add a kind of ‘bite’ to the sweetness. Last year I made pear/ginger/pineapple marmalade and added a few small oranges to the mix—it was a heavenly result and the marmalade disappeared rather quickly. I’ll probably do the same thing this year.

We often debate the advantages and disadvantages of moving into our own home; one of the advantages would be that we could have our own garden. We know for sure that we would fill the backyard with fruit trees and plant a garden, both flower and vegetable. So why haven’t we moved by now? That’s a good question. Part of the answer lies in the fact that we don’t have the time we would need to tend a large garden, at least not in the way that would be required. Also, we would like to live in Oslo and not commute into the city each morning; traffic is horrendous and we would like to avoid that. But to buy a house in Oslo is not really a viable option—houses cost a fortune; we’re talking upwards of 800,000 USD for a decent-sized house (two bedrooms, two baths, kitchen, living room). It seems a tad unrealistic to want a house in order to have a garden. There are so many hidden costs attached to owning a home. The garden has to supersede all the problems of owning a home in the city. Time will tell. In the meantime, we have our gardens in the different rooms of our apartment. I’m waiting for the day when there won’t be room for any more plants or any more room for us. I believe that day is coming soon.

Ripe oranges

My orange tree

Our tomato plant

My husband's orchid plant