Boordy Vineyards Wine & Herb Festival

Last Saturday we drove up to Boordy Vineyards, north of Baltimore, for their annual wine and herb festival. I was imagining something ‘a little more California,’ as my friend’s mother would say: linen trousers, platters of complimentary artisanal cheeses with crusty bread, and music wafting on the breeze. It was not like that. What it was like was paying an entrance fee for the opportunity to spend more money, a construct that I’ve never really found appealing.

Although it’s not something I would have attended had I known what I was getting, the festival as structured was fine. There was a live band, a dance floor, and a varied selection of local products available for sale. However, besides bringing in the additional vendors and the music, Boordy didn’t provide anything that couldn’t be had by visiting the vineyard during regular hours. There were no special rates and no complimentary drinks or food beyond the usual 1/2 ounce tastes of their regular products. This was the largest digression from what I’d imagined we were attending; for the $12 dollar entrance fee, I expected more than I could have gotten at any of the free Taste of [fill-in-the-blank-with-your-favorite-city] events I’ve attended over the years.

The major disappointment of our visit, however, was the discovery that most of their wines were just plain bad. I’ve had their Riesling several times and enjoyed it; my mistake was assuming that a Riesling would be on the lower end of what they had to offer. Quite the opposite: the Riesling is by far their nicest (i.e. most authentic) selection. Granted, this was the first time I’d gone to a tasting of Maryland wines, and it probably shouldn’t have been surprising that the flavor and body were so consistently what I can only describe as young. I imagine this is an artifact of growing grapes in this climate, but I was still taken aback by how unappealing I found them. They were no competition for New York or New Jersey wines, let alone even moderate choices from California or Oregon vineyards. I suppose that people who enjoy California wines and don’t have expectations based on the French originals might find these local cabernets and pinots palatable; I certainly did not.

Another element that I wasn’t prepared for was the prevalence of flavored fruit wines. When did coolers in a wine bottle become something consumed by anybody over the age of 20? I truly did not consider myself a wine snob before this weekend, but either the norms have changed dramatically in the past decade or my tastes have matured much more than I realized, because I was kind of appalled to see what people were drinking by the case and pronouncing excellent. I’m no stranger to fruit wines: Michigan produces lovely cherry wines, I’ve had delicious blueberry wines in Ontario and New Jersey, and my aunt bottles a refreshing peach flavored wine at her local DIY shop that’s perfect for a summer evening. I guess that’s the problem: I didn’t expect to find flavored wines worse than what my family can make on their own being touted at the local vineyard.

The upshot is that the wines were really not worth the trip, and it’s good to know what to avoid in the future. We did come home with several herbs for our garden — rosemary, ‘Italian oregano,’ and mint julep — courtesy of Putnam Hill Nursery, and two new honey selections — cranberry and blueberry — from the folks at Bees on the Bay. So, the trip wasn’t a total wash, and now we know.

Boordy Vineyards Wine & Herb Festival

garden log : a whole lot of planning


The lavender bursting out in new growth.

My garden notes these days are trending more toward the ‘to be undertaken when I have more time, money and energy’ and away from ‘done done done!’ Happily, growth continues without me: the lavender has taken to its new home and is sending out all kinds of shoots, the first yellow daylily of the summer appeared this morning, and the roses continue to bloom. I haven’t made any more progress on the peony identification front—I emailed Kelway’s asking for help, but haven’t received a response—but I have a new bloom to work with: the transplanted peonies produced a single blossom that opened up today, so I’ll take some photos and see what I can learn.

In terms of the future, I’ve been researching roses and sketching out a plan for preparing a new bed and moving a large old climber to a sunnier roomier spot against the south wall of the addition. The prep appears to entail major soil modification, in the form of compost and topsoil addition, and the purchase of an arbor. We’ll then let the bed sit and get nice and juicy over the summer while I research how to actually move the plant in the fall. This approach has the added bonus of giving me plenty of time to shop for a suitably un-kitschy arbor; I’m fussy with regard to avoiding the country cottage look as much as possible while still filling the house with color and the garden with flowers.

The other plant-shifting project that I have in mind for June involves the creation of a raised border bed in the middle of our front yard. Well, truthfully, at the edge of our front yard—thus the border aspect—but in the middle of the expanse of grass made up by our lawn and our neighbor’s. This bed will serve several purposes: improving the drainage of the front yard, visually defining the edge of the yard, rerouting of the letter carrier, and providing a home for several sun-loving plants that are currently hanging about in less than ideal circumstances. Over the past couple of weeks I’ve acquired three little sprouts that need to go into the ground soon. The rosemary and ‘Italian oregano’ (thyme) will go into the new bed, with plenty of room to grow into nice sizable little shrubs; both should overwinter here without a problem. The summersweet is destined for the existing bed, but its future location is currently occupied by a clump of yellow daylilies and some garlic chives. So, those two plants will be moved to the new bed as well. It’s my hope to put the small fragrant rose bush—the Crimson Glory—into that front bed as well, but I need to do a little more research on soil conditions and wind protection and that sort of thing before I make a final decision about that.

In the meantime, I water them in their little pots and hope for the best!

garden log : a whole lot of planning

Even’ Star Organic Farm party


Rhubarb Ginger Galette, round two.

We celebrated Memorial Day by attending a party at ‘our’ farm: Even’ Star Organic Farm, where we’re members of the CSA. We’d had a fun time at the autumn party and enjoyed the drive down, which included stopping on the way for pumpkins and honey at a farm stand in Dunkirk. This time we drove straight through, and arrived for a gorgeous afternoon.

Having taken the farm tour last autumn, we opted for eating the delicious food, drinking the tasty Weiss beer, and lounging around. My contribution to the desserts was a Rhubarb Ginger Galette with a half-whole-wheat crust; it was meant to be all whole wheat, but I mistook the bags of flour and dumped the remaining white flour into the bin by mistake. I was glad that I had planned to make and bring two galettes, as that meant I already had a backup plan in place when the first one wasn’t ready for prime time: I forgot to strain out the excess liquid from the fruit and inadvertently omitted the butter that would have thickened the filling, which combined with a small tear in the crust to create a gooey puddle around one half of the pan. This first round also helped make clear that the galette needed to cool on the sheet; once we’d let it cool that way overnight it slid off onto a board without a problem. Probably the French have some large flat galette-removing spatula-type implement, but I certainly don’t.

Having an afternoon party meant no bonfire, but it did mean that we could explore the woods a bit more. Once we’d eaten, we trooped off in search of new birds. As promised, we sighted several Indigo Buntings in the fallow fields near the house. Buntings, like bluebirds, are common in the right habitat in this region, but I’d yet to see one. I still haven’t gotten over the surprise of seeing such blue birds, so it was a thrill to see them popping up over the grasses. On the drive in we’d seen a true Black Vulture in a group that was devouring something on the grassy median of the road. It was unmistakable with its deep black plumage, gray face and white beak, and it was a thrill to get such a good look at it on the ground after years of peering into the skies hoping not to see the flash of red on the faces of what always turned out to be Turkey Vultures. In addition to those long sought after life birds, we lucked out and spotted a mature Bald Eagle circling over the treeline. It was only the second time I’ve seen an eagle in adult plumage, and the first for my partner, so that was a great treat. No trip to a farm is complete for me without sighting a few amphibians, and the best part of the day was seeing a juvenile salamander that the kids had collected from the stream. The frogs and tadpoles were lovely, of course, but the little guy with gills still on was particularly nice.

On the way back home we stopped to check on Solomon’s Island Winery, which is quite small and run by a couple basically out of their home. The property is smaller than my family’s blueberry farm, which means that it would be virtually impossible for them to grow their own grapes. The wines were largely low alcohol fruit-flavored varieties—coolers in a bottle seem to be a popular item in Maryland—with only a couple of serious labels. The Meritage was decent and tasted like a Bordeaux, as advertised. The Icewine was also a fine dessert wine; we bought a bottle, and it made me regret not tasting the Eisling when we were at Boordy Vineyards earlier in the weekend. Overall, though, I would recommend sticking with wines by actual vineyards, from regions where the terrain is more suitable to growing grapes.

Having fulfilled our farm-related duties for the season—sent in our check, attended the party—we now sit back and let the food come to us. Not too shabby!

Even’ Star Organic Farm party

garden log : peony identification project


Bloom from the peony that came with the house.


The peony bush in question.

My goal for this week has been to conclusively identify the peony that came with our house. It hasn’t been as easy as I’d hoped. Part of the problem is that I lack knowledge of the correct flower-describing terminology, which makes using the search function on HelpMeFind’s peony page more challenging and less productive than it should be. Is my bloom pink? Yellow? Double? An anemone? This was easier with the roses, as I had a borrowed rose book in front of me to provide the basics with regard to double blooms and such.

Nonetheless, by blundering around the web for a while and poring over pages of results from a Google images search on ‘peony,’ I’ve come up with two possible matches for my plant. Our house was built in 1936, and the peony was likely planted by the first owner; at the least, I’m quite sure it wasn’t planted by the most recent owners, post-1983. I first decided I had a Lady Alexandra Duff peony, based on the bloom description and the year of introduction in the United States (1932). Upon further looking, though, I’m not as certain. Our plant definitely has drooping blooms, and quite a bit more yellow in the blooms than other photos of Lady Alexandra Duff plants.

My new theory is that I have a Bridal Veil peony, introduced at an unknown point prior to 1958 and still for sale by Kelway’s. Of course, I’ve been unable to find any more information than that, and am wondering if this is an alternate name for the variety. I would love to learn the year of introduction and more of a history of the plant, so if any peony experts are reading this, let me know what you think!

garden log : peony identification project

new life birds on the Delaware Bay

This week we got up early on Saturday to travel to Delaware for the Migratory Bird Festival at Bombay Hook. Our goal was to see new shorebirds, and we were successful, even with the high water remaining from last week’s storms. After getting up at 4:30am, we were on the road at 5:20am. This was the first time I’d gotten on the road before dawn in order to see birds, another small milestone in the evolution of my birding hobby. Most organized birding events start at such ungodly hours, so I expect I’ll be doing more of that in the future. The first time around, though, I was grateful to not have to drive myself or interact with strangers before my morning coffee.

The drive was mostly uneventful; the weather was clear and we made good time. On the Bay Bridge I made the mistake of looking out at the water with binoculars: I’ve never gotten nauseous so quickly in my entire life. The remaining hour drive with the windows down restored me mostly to normal, but I now understand the warnings about going on pelagic birding tours. At the refuge we doused ourselves from head to toe in DEET and gathered outside the visitors’ center for our boat ride through the salt marsh (the reason we’d planned to arrive so early). The ride was fun, although it didn’t yield as many bird sightings as we’d hoped as a result of the recent flooding. We heard the distinctive Clapper Rail in the grasses, flushed a Spotted Sandpiper, which then made its jerky-winged way down the channel in front of us for a fair stretch, and saw groups of Dowitchers and smaller birds winging their way overhead. The small number of birds was less of a disappointment than losing my hat to the wind and water; I was able to replace it with a new one from the gift shop, but it won’t be the same as my old smiling-girl-on-a-bike one that I’d had since doing the AIDS ride five years ago.

After the boat ride, the new hat, an early lunch, and the receipt of a free native Summersweet cutting for our home garden, we set out to bird the auto tour. As hoped, we soon discovered shorebirds aplenty, almost all of them new. At the first pond, we came across the flock of American Avocets, beautiful large graceful birds. They flew off before we could get a close look at them, however we saw them in flight several times through the afternoon and caught up with them at a later point on the tour. It took us a while to get into the habit of seeing the smaller brown birds, but eventually we got better: we would simply scan the landscape two or three times until their shapes jumped out at us from the same patches of reeds we’d previously passed over, much like those brain teasing posters at the mall. In this way we were able to identify the enormous flocks of Semipalmated Sandpipers and Black-bellied Plovers that were flying in and landing in large clusters as the tide rose in the outer parts of the refuge. In with this group was a single Semipalmated Plover; near but not intermingled we tracked a small group of Least Sandpipers and a couple of beautiful light gray Baird’s Sandpipers foraging along the water’s edge.

Once we’d had our fill of the refuge we decided to try our luck at the beaches down the coast a bit. Because Bombay Hook is predominantly salt marsh, it’s hard to spot those birds that don’t like to travel inland. We were hoping to get a look at some of the legendary long-distance migrants that stopped at this stretch of shore to gorge on horseshoe crab eggs before continuing north. Our first two attempts to make it to a beach ended in ‘road closed’ signs, an artifact of the earlier flooding. Pickering Beach Road was open, though, and we headed to the beach, dutifully following the marked public access route. On the beach, serendipity took over: we followed a large shorebird down the beach to the right, successfully identifying it as a Willet before it flew off. It led us to a stretch of sand that looked out onto what appeared to be a heap of old tires; I eventually concluded that it must have been a purposefully created outcrop designed to make up for the lack of large rocks along that part of the shore. At first glance the tires yielded only a single enormous gull, which neither my partner nor I found worthy of comment. Finding nothing else of interest on the beach to train the binoculars on, we both returned to the large gull only to discover that the tires were completely covered with medium-sized shorebirds after all: the very birds we’d traveled to the beach to try to see! A group of twenty or thirty Ruddy Turnstones were hanging out there — resting, no doubt, after their journey from South America — and a single pair of Red Knots was keeping us company. The decent size of the birds in combination with their distinctive markings — it’s hard to confuse the rusty back and stark head pattern of the Ruddy Turnstone or the salmon and gray combination of the Red Knot — allowed us to identify them conclusively, even with our minimalist binoculars.

The sighting of these two birds was the perfect end to the day, allowing us to return home on a high note of success rather than continuing to head down the shore getting ever more tired and frustrated. I was proud of myself for sighting seven new life birds, most of them painstakingly identified by the two of us without outside assistance. And, I have another free plant for the garden!

new life birds on the Delaware Bay