New beginnings

When a person can no longer remember what her blog looks like, then it has really been a long time since a post. The season has changed from Spring to Summer, Midsummer has past and the days grow shorter. The tomatoes  have grown huge, some taller than I am, and the fruits begin to turn red. The one eggplant that has grown from the 10 seeds we planted has three big beautiful purple flowers. The basil has been transplanted for the 4th time. The olive tree is growing really well, and the blackberries are ripe. I feel sometimes as though I am back in New Mexico with the rains we have been having in July. Although, the amount of rain would be the envy of the people and plants in the high desert. And it is summer vacation here, which means almost everyone is gone for another two weeks and everything is quiet.

Today we went blackberry picking, and I baked a cake with roasted hazelnuts, cinnamon, vanilla, and blackberries. And I prepared a huge pot of blackberries for making jam tomorrow- which means I sorted them and cooked them so that they don't mold and then tomorrow afternoon I will add pectin and sugar and put it all into many jars. I still have some blackberries left which I plan on eating tomorrow in a big bowl with cream. Or maybe I'll buy a jar of sour cherries and see if I can find some more red currants on my landladies' bush and make rote gruetze. I think I already wrote about that, but it is a fruit dessert made of red and black fruits, a bit of sugar, lemon zest, and corn starch. I have some sago somewhere, so maybe I'll use that.

There has been a trip to the U.S. in between posts and the beginnings of looking for land/house to buy for our vision- which I will detail in a later post. And I have begun writing a new performance piece based on the story of the Goose Girl at the Well, by the Brother's Grimm. I'll use Hildegard von Bingen's herbal medicines and some current something in the world politic/story. And I have begun my course, the ABC's of Herbalism, with Susun Weed. A few weeks ago a huge box arrived full of books for me! Hooray! Books about Herbs, it doesn't get much better than that. I just finished reading a section on medicinal trees- poplar, maple, elder, larch, ash, birch, and so on. And though the specific variety may be different, the same species of tree grows here as in the States, which makes it very convenient. New England, it turns out, was aptly named, as many of the trees were brought over, and others had family members already there.

Just had a bath, now for a piece of Blackberry cake dusted with cocoa. Enjoy part one of the Goose Girl at the Well:

There was once upon a time a very old woman, who lived with her flock of geese in a waste place among the mountains, and there had a little house. The waste was surrounded by a large forest, and every morning the old woman took her crutch and hobbled into it. There, however, the dame was quite active, more so than any one would have thought, considering her age, and collected grass for her geese, picked all the wild fruit she could reach, and carried everything home on her back. Any one would have thought that the heavy load would have weighed her to the ground, but she always brought it safely home. If any one met her, she greeted him quite courteously. "Good day, dear countryman, it is a fine day. Ah! you wonder that I should drag grass about, but every one must take his burden on his back." Nevertheless, people did not like to meet her if they could help it, and took by preference a roundabout way, and when a father with his boys passed her, he whispered to them, "Beware of the old woman. She has claws beneath her gloves; she is a witch."
One morning a handsome young man was going through the forest. The sun shone bright, the birds sang, a cool breeze crept through the leaves, and he was full of joy and gladness. He had as yet met no one, when he suddenly perceived the old witch kneeling on the ground cutting grass with a sickle. She had already thrust a whole load into her cloth, and near it stood two baskets, which were filled with wild apples and pears. "But, good little mother," said he, "how can you carry all that away?" "I must carry it, dear sir," answered she, "rich folk's children have no need to do such things, but with the peasant folk the saying goes, 'Don't look behind you, you will only see how crooked your back is!'"
"Will you help me?" she said, as he remained standing by her. "You have still a straight back and young legs, it would be a trifle to you. Besides, my house is not so very far from here, it stands there on the heath behind the hill. How soon you would bound up thither!" The young man took compassion on the old woman. "My father is certainly no peasant," replied he, "but a rich count; nevertheless, that you may see that it is not only peasants who can carry things, I will take your bundle." "If you will try it," said she, "I shall be very glad. You will certainly have to walk for an hour, but what will that signify to you; only you must carry the apples and pears as well."
It now seemed to the young man just a little serious, when he heard of an hour's walk, but the old woman would not let him off, packed the bundle on his back; and hung the two baskets on his arm. "See, it is quite light," said she. "No, it is not light," answered the count, and pulled a rueful face. "Verily, the bundle weighs as heavily as if it were full of cobblestones, and the apples and pears are as heavy as lead! I can scarcely breathe." He had a mind to put everything down again, but the old woman would not allow it. "Just look," said she mockingly, "the young gentleman will not carry what I, an old woman, have so often dragged along. You are ready with fine words, but when it comes to be earnest, you want to take to your heels. Why are you standing loitering there?" she continued. "Step out. No one will take the bundle off again."

As long as he walked on level ground, it was still bearable, but when they came to the hill and had to climb, and the stones rolled down under his feet as if they were alive, it was beyond his strength. The drops of perspiration stood on his forehead, and ran, hot and cold, down his back. "Dame," said he, "I can go no farther. I want to rest a little." "Not here," answered the old woman, "when we have arrived at our journey's end, you can rest; but now you must go forward. Who knows what good it may do you?" "Old woman, you are becoming shameless!" said the count, and tried to throw off the bundle, but he labored in vain; it stuck as fast to his back as if it grew there. He turned and twisted, but he could not get rid of it. The old woman laughed at this, and sprang about quite delighted on her crutch. "Don't get angry, dear sir," said she, "you are growing as red in the face as a turkey-cock! Carry your bundle patiently. I will give you a good present when we get home."
What could he do? He was obliged to submit to his fate, and crawl along patiently behind the old woman. She seemed to grow more and more nimble, and his burden still heavier. All at once she made a spring, jumped on to the bundle and seated herself on the top of it; and however withered she might be, she was yet heavier than the stoutest country lass. The youth's knees trembled, but when he did not go on, the old woman hit him about the legs with a switch and with stinging-nettles. Groaning continually, he climbed the mountain, and at length reached the old woman's house, when he was just about to drop. When the geese perceived the old woman, they flapped their wings, stretched out their necks, ran to meet her, cackling all the while. Behind the flock walked, stick in hand, an old wench, strong and big, but ugly as night. "Good mother," said she to the old woman, "has anything happened to you, you have stayed away so long?" "By no means, my dear daughter," answered she, "I have met with nothing bad. On the contrary, only with this kind gentleman, who has carried my burden for me; only think, he even took me on his back when I was tired. The way, too, has not seemed long to us; we have been merry, and have been cracking jokes with each other all the time."
At last the old woman slid down, took the bundle off the young man's back, and the baskets from his arm, looked at him quite kindly, and said, "Now seat yourself on the bench before the door, and rest. You have fairly earned your wages, and they shall not be wanting." Then she said to the goose-girl, "Go into the house, my dear daughter, it is not becoming for you to be alone with a young gentleman; one must not pour oil on to the fire, he might fall in love with you." The count knew not whether to laugh or to cry. "Such a sweetheart as that," thought he, "could not touch my heart, even if she were thirty years younger."