Stewardship

August 26, 2013

     Late Summer. Rounding the bend toward Autumn. This afternoon, after my days work was done, the dogs and I ventured out to the garden. My intention was to pick the plum tomatoes I spied a few days ago. By now, I thought, they should be ready.

Sure enough, I found twenty or so. Quite ripe, or almost there.

     The green beans – bush flat variety, and the pencil thin haricots verts had already given up a plentiful harvest. The timely rains we enjoyed helped.

Perhaps there might be a second offering. Did I read that beans produce additional harvests when picked regularly? Hope so.

      Sure enough, I found enough bush beans to make a decent contribution to supper. Moving down the row, bent over, I peered through the bushy mass of green. Voila! Another unexpected surprise.  Plentiful, slender, elegant haricots verts.  Another meal.

      Turning the corner past the yellowing cucumber vines I was greeted with another late summer bonus. Clusters of orange yellow orbs, the delightful Sungold tomato.

    There is something satisfying in eating what’s currently available. I don’t have lettuce anymore, so salad is not on the menu. Tomatoes with basil, or rosemary, or tarragon, sliced, roasted, sauced. Yes! Green beans with garlic, mint and cherry tomatoes. Yes again!

     Luscious wedges of cantaloupes grace the breakfast table. Last week potato salad with hard boiled eggs was a star attraction.

    When I am in the garden I find I move to a rhythm determined by the time of day, be it early morning, midday or evening.I am ever mindful of the presence or absence of rain and wind. And the month. What needs doing in April or May differs from what is required in August. I like being a steward to the seasonal and climactic changes on my small property.

    Steward. That is the perfect word to describe the position I occupy in the garden. Perhaps in life. I think it implies that I am not the central actor. Some other force greater than me, has the major role. It is my job to see that all the necessary ingredients are available to achieve success. Something like parenting, I think.

    Cantaloupes. Beautifully netted, round, heavy – one of my top ten favorite crops. This year, thanks to ample rainfall all summer, at just the right time, the cantaloupe patch offered up six or seven burgeoning melons. Patience is a virtue when it comes to melons. I have found that out the hard way by plucking one out, anticipating with joy the knife slice down the center, only to discover I should have waited another few days. Tough, flavorless, unripe.

As with many things, timing is everything. And attentiveness. Watching, observing, turning a careful eye to the subtle changes.

'My Inner Farmer'

This past Sunday, July 28,2013 I had the immense pleasure of listening to a wonderful piece on NPR.  Susan Stamberg was conducting an  interview writer, teacher,columnist for the New York Times and farmer  Verlyn Klinkenborg. His most recent book, More Scenes from the Rural Life,  is just out. It depicts glimpses of his life farming in upstate New York and he read various vivid, delightful excerpts from it.

What made this experience so pleasurable for me was to hear his astute observations of a  life lived close the the land.He is a wonderfully keen observer of the  patterns of nature, the seasonal changes and a life  lived with animals. While I don't have a farm, indeed we only have five acres, complete with 30 ' X 45' garden, fruit trees, berry bushes and, sadly,only four chickens, and two dogs, I could so relate to his observations and pleasures. He was clear to say that he is firstly an academic, yet  he comes from a long line of farmers. He returned to his family lineage when he purchased a farm in 1997. And while he does not make his living solely from farming, it seems that the rhythm and demands of  life on his farm are clearly the background 'fabric' of his existence. To a certain extent this is true for me as well.

By contrast, however, I do not come from a long line of farmers. Not my parents, nor their parents were in any way the types to be happy with dirt under their fingernails. Yes, my mother's father was a botanist/scientist and wrote an important volume on the plants on the island of Guam. (Useful Plants of Guam by William Edwin Safford, originally published in 1905), he was certainly not a farmer. However something, or somewhere in my DNA shows up as what I like to call 'My Inner Farmer'. Shortly after I graduated from college in 1972 I was inspired to ask my parents if I could dig up a plot of ground in their suburban back yard. With their permission I dove into this new passion. I purchased a small book describing French Intensive Gardening (The Postage Stamp Garden,  now out of print, I think), double dug a 10' X 10'  plot,added purchased organic ingredients (back then I didn't know anyone who lived on a farm, therefore had no access to compost/manure, my how times have changed!)  and by summer's end had my first jaw dropping experience of peering into a jungle of green and discovering...food! Cucumbers, pole beans, tomatoes...I was hooked. Ever since then, for the past  40 years,with few exceptions, everyplace I have lived I have always created a garden, I have always grown food.

While I listened to Verlyn Klinkenborg bemusedly describing the inflated antics of a Tom Turkey after mating, I was busy in my kitchen processing a sea of basil into fragrant pesto sauce, and upon finishing that I was taking the skins off of a gazillion ripe plum tomatoes in preparation for making Sauce Pomodoro with, what else, basil! All this in anticipation of a cold January  evenings when we are yearning for the taste of summer past. We will  reach into the freezer and pull out frozen pesto ready to be thawed and combine it  hot pasta or enjoy the intense sweetness of freshly picked tomatoes.'Remembrance of things past.' It makes all my hot, sticky labor well worth the effort.

Harvesting Late Summer's Sweetness

The end of July. More than a month past the Summer Solstice and the garden is showing the signs of the change in seasons. The summer squashes, just two weeks ago overwhelming are,thankfully,slowing down (anyone know 1001 recipes for zucchini??). Cucumber and winter squash leaves are beginning to yellow and wilt, and the tomatoes are ripening before my eyes. Potato plants have been browning up for a couple of weeks. Depending upon one's point of view this can look like abundance...or a tsunami!

Most every day I wander out into the garden and have a look around. What needs picking, what needs pruning...as in the blackberry canes that reach out to rip the hat off your head, or the cantaloupe runners that sneak their way into the tomato bed. Try to keep a check on the weeds. Good luck! They LOVE hot weather!! Everyday something to do. My 'inner farmer' is so content. Yes, trying to produce as much of our own food as I can manage (yes, that is my goal) IS a part time job, yet an amazingly satisfying one. Not to mention delicious. Yet some days I find myself saying "so many vegetables, so few meals!"

Right now I am keeping an eye on beets, green and red cabbage, cucumbers, yellow squash, zucchini, pole beans, haricot verts, basil, tomatoes (13 plants),  swiss chard,kale, (how many massaged kale salads and kale chips can one plant make? That's a joke :),  sweet peppers, egg plant,and  blackberries. Not to mention herbs: mint, rosemary, oregano, tarragon and chives.By mid August the cantaloupes will begin to ripen and I will soon  harvest the butternut squash. Right before the first frost in early October I will unearth the bed of sweet potatoes. And just this afternoon I started broccoli and brussels sprouts from seed in the basement under a grow light.

But speaking of potatoes! This week was the time for magic, time for the great potato harvest! Of all the tasks in the garden this might be my most favorite. It is like Christmas and Easter rolled into one! As I said, the potato plants have been browning up for at least a couple of weeks, sign that the skins of the tubers are toughening up and ready to dig out of the ground. These are potatoes that  I was lucky enough to get into the ground by the traditional St. Patrick's Day planting date. If  I am remembering  correctly the receipt from Kendall's Hardware indicated that I purchased about 6 pounds of golf ball sized seed potatoes, 2 pounds each of  three varieties (yummy Yukon Gold, Red Kennebecs and another white potato whose name I don't remember) for about $8.00. So I got out my gardening fork, and pulling away the straw mulch I carefully placed the fork several inches away from the main stem of each plant, stepped onto the fork and then gave a firm upward thrust. As if by magic gorgeous red or white potatoes revealed themselves a midst the dark moist earth. Nothing quite like it!

By the time I was done I had discovered 26 plus pounds of potatoes, enough to last us well into the New Year. That is a pretty good return on my investment. What is so amazing to me is that all I did was to provide the environment for Mother Nature (and God) to do her thing....soil made nutritious, thanks to my chickens' manure(which is the engine that drives my entire garden), a thick layer of straw mulch to keep the soil moist and an even, cool temperature , and occasional watering when needed...and simply stand back and voila!Late summer goodness!

A dilemma: do I make vichyssoise or gazpacho...or both? "A catastrophe of riches!"

Coming up next up: putting up tomatoes and the making of.... pesto! Did I show you my basil plants? Oy!!!

January 6, 2013

I will savor these times,

Sunday evening, game on downstairs,

fire in the woodstove, dogs laying contentedly

near the heat,

Me, at the stove, cooking onions and garlic,

Making soup.

Chickens tucked in, snug.

Only one egg today? Really.

This morning, temperatures so mild,

Soil so damp, perfect to clear grasses and violets

from the asparagus patch!

So satisfying to connect with earth in this

dark winter season.

At sunset I walked with my dear friend,

Our annual remembrance of the day her mother died,

Yet this morning, too, a phone conversation

‘how’s the baby’, the new little one born on the Solstice.

Both ends of life, savoring the sweetness,

Someday things will be different.