Autumn Crocus

Yesterday I had a little time while waiting for my husband to finish in a meeting at the hospital, so I wandered over to a place on the hospital compound where I once found wild autumn crocuses blooming under a planted palm. September is the month to begin looking for such blooms. They are rare, and this is the only place I have ever spotted them. As it turns out, my timing was perfect--several petite bunches were blooming and in their prime.

Autumn Crocus

Colchicum tunicatum

Wildflower spotting: Mafraq

Fall Wildflowers~Mafraq

The city of Mafraq, located on the edge of the semi-arid Baida region, has little aesthetic beauty to recommend it, however, the hospital compound where Dear Husband works and which is located on the edge of town  is like a mini-nature reserve. Yesterday I discovered these specimens of fall beauty, helped by the warm light of an early morning autumn sun which brightened berries and shone through translucent petals and membranous fruits.

Autumn Crocus, Meadow Saffron

Colchium sp.

These wild crocuses are very small, about four or  five centimeters tall, and there were just about three small groups of them growing under this palm tree:

I found the palm and the crocuses an interesting juxtaposition of plant species.

Other than the crocuses, it was the little admired Chenopods which shined, literally, and  ruled the fall morning. 

This Anabasis doesn't look like much as  one strolls by it, but a lingering glance reveals  bits of yellow peaking out of the gray-green plant, and upon a much closer look one notices minute yellow flowers growing from the joints of the branches.

Anabasis sp.

These  Chenopods reminded me a bit of the underwater scenery around the coral reefs in Aqaba.

Another Anabasis (I think)

This Halothamnus also had minute flowers embedded at the joints of its branches; it is the membranous five winged fruits which resemble flowers.

 I imagined this small plant as a perfect fall bridal bouquet for meadow fairies.

Halothamnus sp.

I loved this view of many Halothamnus bushes, aglow with morning sunshine pouring through their translucent fruit/membranes.

A couple closer shots and the fruits resemble tiny hollyhock like flowers. Nearly all of the Halothamnus shrubs had white fruits, but this bush had pink"wings".

Halothamnus sp.

I'm pretty sure this Chenopod is Orache, or Atriplex sylosa Viv. The plant has small grey-green leaves with toothed margins, and spreads out close to the ground. The fruits are very small, fleshy, and red, and are best seen when the sun is shining through them. Up close, they look like teeny tiny lights. Beautiful.

Garden Journal~April 2013

We will enjoy our first summer in Mafraq this year, and so made extra efforts to finish planting our garden. We moved into this house and yard in the fall of 2011, and at that time I planted only the perennials that I brought with me from Amman, so those are the most established. Last spring, I didn't add much of anything as we would be in the States the entire dry, hot summer. The garden went into survival mode, with a friend keeping the bare minimum of moisture on it.

I returned to Jordan last fall, ever optimistic of making my garden bloom, with a dozen seed packets and several live lavender plants. I transplanted the lavender plants in the fall; the Giant Hidcote and the Grosso, below, are faring the best and have lots of new growth on them. Already blooming is the french lavender that I brought up from Amman. I added the small phlomis bush this spring

Dear Husband put up our canopy a few weeks ago. It has been in storage since moving from Amman. I added a few red geraniums for color, and there is a potted mint plant in the back. The Russian sage is half in/half out of the canopy--we'll see how that works. It doesn't seem to mind so far, so I will leave it for now, hoping that it doesn't attract too many bees when it blooms. To its left is a small lantana with bright pink flowers. It is very drought resistant and should do well in its sunny spot.

The ranunculus are on their way out, but the irises are looking great. I still have lots of empty space in my flower beds, but they are fully planted now with the white plastic yogurt containers marking and protecting the seedlings I transplanted on Friday: blue salvia, verbena, coneflowers, and coreopsis.

Dear Husband marked off two herb/tomato beds for me. The soil level is raised just a little, but the main purpose of the wood is to mark off the beds. Right now they hold fifteen basil plants, three beet plants, and about 25 tomato plants. I'm pretty confident about the basil plants, but it is my first attempt at vegetables. I'm pretty sure my soil isn't up to par, even with the compost and peat moss we added. I 'll continue to add compost and coffee grounds. Please feel free to share any tips you have for growing tomatoes!

The pomegranate tree is bursting into bloom

The other flower bed, also a work in process, but anchored by the ever-blooming lavender.

Olive Harvest

One of the really wonderful things about living in the Middle East is olives. You can eat them at any meal and anytime in between. A man of humble means told Dear Husband that "olives make a meal", and that is true, especially when a meal might otherwise be bread and tea.

And, one of the wonderful things about living in Mafraq is our yard, in which grow five mature olive trees that produce good olives. Dear Husband, due to his great success last year of curing two gallons of olives, both green and black, has received the moniker "Abu Zaytoon" (Father of Olives). Even with rationing, we ran out of his delicious olives by June, so this year we begged him to prepare more, much more, than last year.

A couple local workers picked our olives one day last week, setting aside the best for curing. Dear Husband will have the rest pressed for oil. The first step is measuring--how many jars would we need to buy this year?

Next comes the sorting: black olives, large green olives with a little color, and smaller green olives. 

 

The next step is the most time consuming: slicing three small slits in each olive. This process took Dear Husband about three evenings. Note the (new) coal/wood stove in the corner of our sun porch. We are officially country folk.

Dear Husband received all his curing instruction and advice from one of the workers who picked our olives. Jordanians have varying opinions on the best way to cure olives, but since this worker's advice yielded such good results last year, Dear Husband is following his instructions again this year. He used two different methods to cure this year's harvest: one method for the black olives and another for the green.

                                

After slitting the black olives, Dear Husband salted them and put them in the sun, such as it is in early December. The salting was repeated for four days. After four days, he soaked the olives in water for about an hour to extract much of the salt, and packed them in jars with olive oil. The salting draws the bitterness out of the olives so it is possible to eat them now, though they will mellow further as they soak in the olive oil.

 

After the green olives are slit, they are soaked in water, which Dear Husband changed daily, for three days.

The  green olives are now ready to be placed in jars of brine. Exactly how much salt do you put in the water for a good brine? The traditional measure: keep adding salt until an egg floats. That is 1/2 cup to 2 liters of water, but measuring cups are an American convention, so the egg float method is really best.

Dear husband also adds 1/4 cup white vinegar. Lemons, which Dear Husband plans to add a week into the brining process, can also be added at this point, as can hot peppers. The olives will be ready for eating in about five to six weeks.

The jars of olives take a proud sentinel position on our kitchen pantry shelf o'plenty. Dear Husband thought me a little silly when I told him that one of the satisfactions of preserving food is looking at the jars of pretty food stored up for the future enjoyment. I have since seen him standing back and admiring the jars of olives he prepared. The patient waiting begins.

Yislam 'idayk,  Ya Abu Zaytoon! (God's peace on your hands, O Father of Olives)

Update: The olives have been pressed and the yield is considered low this year. A good oil yield is 16 % of the raw olive weight and this year the yield was 13%, so our 66 kilograms of olives yielded just over nine kilograms of oil. (1 kilogram = 2.21 pounds)

New Rhythms

~morning serenade of the Jordanian national anthem (Long Live the King) by the boys school across the street

~frozen lemonade cups in the afternoon
Such a simple idea (thanks Trish) and so amazingly refreshing. If you are aren't patient enough for it to thaw a little, you can put forth the effort to shave the lemon ice. We've enjoyed one every afternoon since we've were introduced to them, and we try to keep enough in the freezer for drop-in guests.

~the gentle and rhythmic cooing of a nearby dove

~dusting, dusting, and more dusting
Living in Amman for many years I am no stranger to dust, but it is mild compared to Mafraq dust. A dusting cloth mostly did the job in Amman, but since moving to Mafraq we have armed ourselves with the bouquet of microfiber dusters shown below:

Two large dusters for general use with one hanging at the ready in the kitchen. Tayta and Artist Son have their own smaller duster for their room and I keep another small one by the computer.

~the whir of the fan over the stove and a new-to-me dishwasher
I haven't had an stove fan or dishwasher since moving to Jordan so after washing dishes for a family of six and hundreds of guests by hand, a dishwasher almost seems superfluous, but my friends who have one tell me it most definitely is not. Tayta concurs. A generous US embassy friend gifted me hers when her husband finished his Amman post this summer. When we first installed it a Swiss electrician, who works in Mafraq and was checking our electricity, pronounced it unsafe (putting out a high unprotected voltage, or something like that) and didn't think he could fix it but with a couple hours of work and a new part, he did. Thank you Christoph!

~a room with a view--actually, a few
Guarding our front garden wall stands a sentinel of green, albeit dusty, pine trees, and lemon and pomegranate trees refresh the views from bedroom and kitchen windows. Behind the garden wall and trees: more dust, lots of empty chip bags and candy wrappers from the students of the boys school and a graffiti covered concrete wall. I'm thankful for the trees and for the foresight of our landlord.

Mafraq or Bust

Well, we just about did bust, but by God's grace we are are now living in Mafraq, Jordan.
Located in the northern desert of Jordan, it is about an hour and a half away from our old home in the capital of Amman. I'm finishing most days completely out of steam but I wanted to let friends, family, and other passersby, know that we are alive and mostly well--just MIA for awhile.

Our move was made two weeks ago today, though Dear Husband has been faithfully working on our new home, himself and directing laborers, for over a month. He's also hauled many of our belongs, including a truckload of garden plants and rocks--bless him!--before the moving vans arrived on August 29.

The first 48 hours in our new home were a grueling blur, but we have since passed through survival, then exhaustion mode. I am thanking God for warm water, a working washing machine, a garden space full of potential, lemon trees out my kitchen and bedroom windows, a hard working husband, happy kids, and new kitchen cupboards--everything but the kitchen sink, which will hopefully be installed this week.

I'm also thankful for the many friends who have packed boxes, made a meal, given us an internet fix, and sent words of encouragements and PRAYER. And, thanks, Suzanne, for these words form the movie Hope Floats (which I haven't seen!)

Beginnings are usually hard
Endings are usually sad
It's what's in the middle that counts.

That about sums it up right now