Dandelion wine sangria

No more news to report on the renovation. And in this case, no news is not good news. We've hit a roadblock, and that roadblock is called rough plumbing. Nothing can move forward until the plumber comes so we've had a subcontractor-free few days.

Luckily, a visit from great friends helped take our minds off reno delays.

And this. Dandelion wine from Russell Orchards in Ipswich, MA. Along with nine pounds of sweet, plump blackberries and blueberries, our friends also picked up an assortment of nontraditional wines. Blueberry. Pear. And dandelion.

This photo was taken after we'd downed much of the bottle, but look at the color. There. Way down toward the bottom of the bottle. Yes, it's yellow. Really, really yellow. The Russell website says, "unique flavor has the essence of sherry wine." And yes, it was unique. Very sweet. Almost syrupy. With a hint of...dandelion flower?

Too sweet for the majority of us. So, we turned it into sangria. A perfect summery drink and a great way to use a not-exactly-to-your-taste wine.

Dandelion wine sangria
Bottle of dandelion wine (or any sweet white)
2 cups seltzer water
2 oz. brandy
juice 1 lime
1 cup fresh blackberries
1/2 cup fresh blueberries
Ice cubes

Put ice cubes in a pitcher. Pour wine and brandy over ice. Add lime juice and berries. Lightly crush berries. Let sit for 15-30 minutes. Add seltzer before serving.

This is a very flexible recipe. You can use a wide variety of fresh fruits and wines, whatever you have on hand. For a dry wine, try adding ginger ale instead of seltzer.

Russell Orchards had an abundance of ready-to-pick blueberries and blackberries. Unlike picking strawberries which involved lots of stooping and crouching (sadly difficult for my rusty knees), I found picking blueberries very relaxing, almost zen. Add fresh cider donuts and nearby Crane beach, this becomes a perfect day's outing.

Apologies for the photo.
Plastic doesn't photograph as well as glass,
and my glass pitchers are packed away.

The curse is broken

Today's renovation news? We're pretty in pink, and the curse has been broken.

Sorry for the abysmal photos. I forgot to take any until the sun was just a rosy glimmer in the west. I'm amazed these photos, taken in near darkness with no flash, came out at all.

We are now insulated. Well. Just the kitchen. Which is good because for whatever reason, this room tends toward temperature extremes...frosty in winter and hot in the summer.

The guys also fixed the severely sloping floor down the back hallway and butler's pantry. A couple of general contractors referred to the slope as a "curse." Maybe it is. In which case, the curse has been broken. Is this a regionalism? Like "pocketbook"? I tried to look up the origin and usage of "curse" in this context, and came up with nothing. Yes. I'm a word nerd.

The curse was broken by copious amounts of self-leveling underlayment.

This is just the butler's pantry looking into the mudroom. The back hallway (not pictured) is a wall-to-wall river of the stuff. We'll be installing reclaimed white oak flooring on top of the underlayment during next week's DIY marathon.

In other renovation news, IKEA's new Ramsjo white-painted wooden cabinet doors sound promising for the butler's pantry. They'll be in stores soon. I'm planning a trip to Stoughton to see them first-hand.

Blustery day for butterfly bush

I've wanted to take photos of our butterfly bush for weeks now.

It sprawls overgrown, arcing at shoulder-height over the path to our front door, nudging visitors onto the grass. It thrums with life...bees of various sizes, a spectacular butterfly, and tiny, nondescript, energetic butterflies.

This morning, I finally had a few spare minutes. Today was a blustery day. Branches dipped and swooped in the gusts. It was a difficult day to shoot. As soon as I'd have a subject in focus, the entire branch would drop out of frame.

It was as difficult for the insects. The elegant butterfly flattened its wings against the wind.

And as the branch bucked and swayed, the butterfly tacked its wings against the gusts. Angling. Reacting. Riding the tossing blossoms.

I've been feeling a bit like that lately. Like an insect hanging onto a wildly bucking branch on a gusty day. But like the bees, I'm blown off, correct course, and I try again. Nervewracking, but at least I'm surrounded by flowers.

I can see clearly now

The wall has gone.

(With apologies to Johnny Nash.)

I haven't posted much about the kitchen because frankly, there wasn't much to post. There were things happening. Slowly. But they were things like rough electrical, getting rid of all that random wiring and running wire actually through the walls. Important, but not visually dramatic.

But yesterday. Yesterday, they opened up the doorway between dining room and kitchen.

Finally, I could see it. The way the space is going to look.

This opening is probably the single biggest change in the kitchen. And yes, I was anxious about how it would look. You see, we designed the kitchen by ourselves. No architect. No kitchen designer. Just us with input from the great folks online at Gardenweb's kitchen forum and various friends and family members.

Here's the before (furniture and lighting belonged to the previous owner):

Here's how it looks now:

I love it! Whew!

Functionally, this opening improves the traffic flow. Before, there was only one narrow entrance to the kitchen, accessed via a rear hallway. People would enter the kitchen then get stuck in the breakfast area. Children were always dashing in and out behind me as I cooked, and I worried that I'd bump into someone with a pot of boiling pasta. Now you can enter/exit via the dining room, avoiding the cooking/prep areas of the kitchen.

But beyond the flow improvement, the new opening lets in so much light! Now from the kitchen, I can see the front yard, and if anyone is at the front door. The kitchen feels much more connected to the rest of the house. Next week should be a busy one. Rough plumbing, putting in the new window, and drywall. Fingers crossed.

Though nothing can bring back the hour...

Do you know how sometimes, a fragment of a memory teases your brain? Nothing as robust or fully fleshed as something remembered, but an echo of a memory. A shadow?

"Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;"

I could hear a woman's voice, speaking these words. After searching, I discovered that they were spoken by Natalie Wood in Splendor in the Grass. Set to music by Single Gun Theory in "Take Me Back." Their album, Like Stars in my Hands, instantly transports me back to grad school. I can literally smell the yellowed paper and library dust. Feel the quiver of caffeine and little sleep and deadline-fueled research.

My present, this flower, lies thousands of miles, geographically and metaphorically, from that memory. My biggest and my smallest trooped into my office, bearing two flowers from the garden. A gift from them and from my current life, so different than what I'd imagined back then.

"Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;"


- William Wordsworth,
"Ode. Intimations of Immortality"