Summer, Mushrooms, and Rain

 

By Brother Marc

Oak survivor

I often do errands in Albany or Clifton Park but drive through the gentle hills and farmland south of New Skete rather than taking any major routes. It seems like I’m traveling on top of the world there, and both land and sky are fully visible from the road. The colorful rural scenery changes dramatically through all four seasons. A stark remnant of a magnificent old oak tree pictured here oversees the newly plowed slopes near where some of our chapel community members live. I imagine it is the last remnant of a great oak woodlot. Last year’s storms broke a huge limb from it, but the farmer-owner of the surrounding cornfield trimmed and saved the rest. This year most of the tree was damaged. I was saddened at the loss; the brave trunk is still a striking landmark even though it is probably not on the National Register of Champion Trees.

Tiger swallowtail butterfly on Korean lilac

Years ago, we planted a miniature Korean lilac bush near our now sixty-year-old weeping beech tree at the monks’ monastery. Every spring the sweet scent of its flowers intensely perfumes the breezes in the cemetery grounds. I snapped a photo of a butterfly on it I had never seen here before, a tiger swallowtail, at least three inches across. I also hope to catch sight here of at least one Monarch butterfly in late summer. I remark on this because bee, insect, and bird life seem to me to be less and less profuse now, except for ticks.

Weeping birch

        So much rain here in the northeast has helped all the flowering bushes retain their blossoms a lot longer. The Chinese kousa dogwoods near the churches were blanketed with blooms of white crosses, similar to the regular variety that has four red marks on its blossoms and said to symbolize the wounds of Christ. Plain perfect daisies are everywhere, as an entire field or a single stem. Pink, white, and red top-heavy peonies and other lush blooms surround the meditation garden benches and ponds. Deeply pigmented day lilies are scattered on the graves and road banks. Unfortunately, the deer have a fondness for eating their blooms.

Kousa Dogwood flowers

Wild daisies

Pink peony

Meditation garden bloom

Garden shrine

I was told the healthy green foliage of our surrounding woods hides a possible imminent gypsy moth caterpillar infestation, which would quickly turn it brown. I wonder whether all the rain is stopping it or encouraging it. Our tiny many-domed church, recently renovated, stands at the center of all this, as pictured here. It is a visual and spiritual still point, where the monks sing the weekday morning service of matins and chant the daily hours.

Bell tower and church

Spring and temple domes

In spite of our being isolated for over a year recently, I have not had time for gardening. Brother Ambrose and Brother Thomas are doing regular garden or landscape work, and the nuns regularly share with us extra produce from their garden and berry patches. Still, I gave in and purchased a healthy-looking tomato plant, hoping to gain an early offering of sun-drenched red tomatoes from the pictured container plant. One of the dog trainers brought us some horseradish plants, with huge leaves—its pungent ivory roots are favored in Eastern European cooking. Other gifts of garden herbs are pictured, notably sweet basil, thyme, dill, and parsley, thriving in the raised beds Brother Elias started many years ago. A few old rhubarb plants, great as a spring tonic dessert, have survived our winters, but this is the first time I’ve seen one produce a five-foot flowering stalk as pictured.

Tomato promise

Horseradish leaves

Herb garden

Rhubarb blossoms

We all may benefit from enjoying nature’s healing and renewing touch. I often escape from my usual activities and concerns, and the computer screen, by doing at least some light yard work. Most of us regularly use the hiking trails, usually with our dogs, on both sides of the monastery road. Brother Ramon has found several varieties of edible mushrooms there again this year, seemingly later than usual, but abundant. He is drying some, and the rest he uses in hearty soups, stews, bread, and spicy dips. When friends brought us a large box of veggies from their farm last week, he baked some unusual zucchini bread as shown—low in sugar but with added orange zest and pistachios.

Brother Ramon

Local black trumpets

Local wild chanterelles

Local wild mushrooms

Zucchini loaves

Once we had summertime droughts in eastern New York occurring for several years in succession. So, we do appreciate the regular rain we receive, for its benefits to our natural surroundings, to local agriculture, and to our well-water and fresh air. The scriptural Psalms lament the droughts and floods that caused suffering millennia ago, and they rejoice when rains come. When we chant these classic verses, in translation, we might let them express our own feelings and hopes today.

In the shadow of your wings I take refuge until the storms of destruction pass. 57[56]:1b

O God, you are my God; at early morning I look for you; my soul thirsts for you; for you my body craves, like dry land, weary, without water. 63[62]:1

You calmed the raging seas and all their roaring waves; the turmoil of the nations you subdued. 65[64]:7-8a

Make morning and evening rejoice! Make the rains come down in torrents, O God, to restore your people and your land! Bless it abundantly: let heaven’s fountains overflow with water; with your rains provide for your family dwelling there. Let the earth bring forth grain, to sustain the needy who settle there, for this is why you made it! Drench its furrows and soak down its ridges; loosen its clods with gentle showers, and bless it with fruitfulness! Crown the year with your bounty; wherever you pass, let there be plenty. Make the boundless meadows lush with rich growth, and clothe the hills in gladness! Fill the pastures with herds of cattle, and make a mantle of wheat stretch out through the valleys! And everywhere, let there be joy; everywhere, songs of praise! 65[64]:9-13

 

Rock garden perennial