Late Day Thoughts

 1.  Gardening is HARD work.

 2.  There are not enough hours in the day.

 3.  If I sit down (and am not shoveling food into my mouth), I fall asleep.

 4.  Summer time is when I have the most innovative ideas for fantastic things to eat and drink.  And the least time to prepare them.

 5.  My house seems dirtier in the summer months, but I have very little desire to clean it.

 6.  How can I claim to be busy in the winter time when I don't have outside chores that fill the majority of my day time hours?

 7.  Why do I think food purchased from a store is ever the least bit tasty when food  straight from the garden is indescribably DEE-LISH-CIOUS?

 8.  How can I work in the garden all day and get oodles done, but not one thing I planned to do?

 9.  Winter and snow has its own pristine beauty, but summer bursts with L-I-F-E!

10.  Why should I take a shower every night when I'm just going to get gritty, grimy and  dirty again tomorrow?

Signed,
Pig Pen
 

I'm Wearing Out My Sweatshirt

It's not from wearing it so much, but rather from putting it on and taking it off so frequently.

Our weather has been wildly fluctuating from really warm to really cool.  Plus we've been having on and off showers for a couple of days.  Yesterday we got 1/2" (along with some powerful thunder boomers) which was good because we've not had any moisture for some time.  Today's rain measured only 2/10ths of an inch.

Garden report . . . 

Our strawberries are blossoming their little heads off and I was thinking we'd have to set up the sprinkler because they definitely need the moisture to make berries.  Now they should be okay at least for a while.
 

The shell peas aren't quite big enough yet to grab on to their trellis.  But they should be happy in the cool weather.  Come on, you little legumes, grow!

My first radishes, planted 23 days ago with alternate rows of lettuce, Swiss chard and spinach, should be forming crispy, crunchy round orbs . . . but they're not.

Surprisingly, the zucchini seeds are sprouted and doing well . . . inside their own little greenhouse.

The Brussels sprouts look good.  They're about 8" tall.

The bed of salad greens is finally coming into its own and we now have enough for our daily tossed salad.

The forecast for tonight is down to 38°.  Okay, I'd call that cool enough. 

Where's my sweatshirt?

A Repost Brought on By Rhubarb

Here's my "Remembering Rosie's and Rhubarb" story I first posted way back in 2008.

* * * * * * * *

I really, really like rhubarb and whenever I'm cooking with it I always think of Rosie's Cafe.  The first few years my husband and I were married, we lived 55 miles away from where I worked full-time and he worked part-time while going to school full-time.  It was a good hour's drive one way.  Occasionally on our way home at night, we would treat ourselves and stop at Rosie's Cafe for a quick dinner.  The small restaurant was owned and operated by three sisters.  Rosie was the waitress and the other two sisters worked in the kitchen.  This was in the early '60s and all the food was made from scratch and good.  There was a printed menu but there was always an "evening special" utilizing fresh produce and meat that was available in the local farming community.  Eating at Rosie's was a great experience.  I often dream of going back there, but the sisters would all be 100+ years old now . . . and probably not doing much cooking.

Now, pie has always been my very favorite dessert.  As a new cook, I had heard that making good pie crust was a real art so was a little gun-shy about trying it.  Instead, I purchased packages of Betty Crocker's "pie sticks" (they looked just like quarter pounds of butter) which you rolled out and, tah-dah, there was your pie crust.  One day my dear husband said very kindly, "Hon, until you have time to learn how to make pie crust, why don't we just skip the pies."  Well.  I could take a hint.  No pies went in or out of my oven for some time.

Back to Rosie's.  Each spring, Rhubarb Pie was sure to be offered.  Outside of the fact that Rhubarb Pie is close to being my very favorite kind of pie, Rosie's crust was wonderful; flaky, tender, melted in your mouth.  So one night after polishing off a piece of delectable Rhubarb Pie, I asked Rosie what the secret was to making such great pie crust.  She replied that I would have to ask her sister as she was the pie baker.  In short order, one of the sisters came out of the kitchen to chat with us.  Cleverly avoiding revealing her own crust recipe ingredients, she did say that I had to remember two things.  The first was to use ice water when mixing the flour and shortening.  The second was to always make the pie crusts and then let them rest in the refrigerator overnight before rolling them out and making the pies.

So back to the drawing board I went and eventually came up with a good crust recipe.  Matter of fact, my career in the restaurant business started with going to a friend's restaurant at 4:30 in the morning and baking pies.  And, yes, I made lots and lots of rhubarb pies.   After I had my own restaurant, hubby and I contracted with a lady living somewhat south of us who had long rows of luxuriant rhubarb plants.  We bought over 100 pounds of rhubarb each year, processed and froze it so I could make rhubarb pies throughout the year.

Recently I found a cookbook that was obviously written for rhubarb lovers.  Recipes using rhubarb to make everything from beverages to jams to salads to desserts.  What fun I'm having working my way through it.  If the old wives' tale about rhubarb being a cleansing, spring tonic is true, boy, are we in good shape.

My rhubarb plant currently looks a trifle lopsided, and possibly a little over-picked, so I should refrain from any rhubarb concoctions for a week or so.  But I can still go bake some other kind of pie.  I like to think Rosie and her sisters would be proud.

* * * * * * * *

Well, here it is Saturday and I think it's been two days since I've picked and used any rhubarb.  Time for another hit on my giant plant out there in the garden.

I've Got This Thing For Rhubarb

If you've been reading my blog for any length of time, you know I really love rhubarb in most any edible size, shape or form.

I came across this "Ode to Rhubarb" blurb on a cooking site and got a bang out of it because it so describes how I feel about that much misunderstood fruit . . . which is technically classified as a vegetable, but we won't get into that.

Here's the quote:

ODE TO RHUBARB

Rhubarb!  You lovely, stringy red stlak!  How maligned you

are for your sourness, but how much the

better you are for it!

How often are you ruined, senselessly

with the addition of strawberries, as though you

were just a filler, or were unable to

stand up on your own.

How you remind us that nothing can

ever truly be sweet without being sour!

How you keep us from lazier, sweet cherry-laden desserts!

How do I love thee, rhubarb?

Truly, I am unable to count the ways.

Hee-hee.  Yup, that pretty well describes my feeling about rhubarb.

I have just one rhubarb plant in my garden but it serves me well.  So far (I first harvested some on May 29th this year and that was rushing it, but I simply couldn't wait any longer), I've made two pies, one pan of Rhubarb Crunch, one Rhubarb Upside Down Cake and put four containers of rhubarb sauce in the freezer.  (We like it during the winter on our oatmeal, or over a dollop of vanilla ice cream on a slice of pound cake.)  Also stashed in the freezer are the ready-to-go bagged up fillings for four pies we'll enjoy this winter.  I guess I'd have to say that my current very favorite rhubarb dessert is Rhubarb Cream Pie.  I've yet to make it this year, but I know I will before the season is over.

I can't think of rhubarb without fond memories of Rosie's Cafe, a small family owned restaurant Papa Pea and I frequented in the early years of our marriage.  I wrote a post about Rosie's (and rhubarb and pie crust) back when I first started blogging in 2008.  If I don't come up with anything stupendously interesting (ha!) about which to blog tomorrow, I'll repost it.

So It Pays To Complain?

Mother Nature must have heard my sad lament in this morning's post regarding our lack of warm weather in these here parts.

Our high temp today (are you ready for this?) hit 76° . . . IN THE SHADE.  It must have been at least 80° in the garden.  At least.

Unfortunately, the heat and humidity caused an explosion of our first hatch of the dreaded black flies.  We knew it had to happen and we've been almost giddily (did I just make up that word?) enjoying our bug-free time so far this year.

In a normal year, the pesky black flies first make an appearance around the middle of May.  They bite with a sting that causes one to smack one's self on one's body where contact is being made so hard it about knocks one off one's feet.  (No foolin'.  Their bite is that hurtful.)  So we've gone a whole month longer into the season this year without having to do battle with the black flies.  Until . . . dum-da-dum-dum . . . today.

They appeared in swarms.  Squadrons.  Battalions.

I started work in the garden wearing an old light, white shirt which was soon nearly covered with their hateful little black bodies.  Since most biting insects are attracted to light colored clothing, I changed into a dark, long-sleeved shirt buttoned all the way up to my neck.  This apparently was the signal for those darn buggers to attack my head.  In the ears, up the nose, in the eyes.  Yeeeow.  I couldn't stand it so gave up and put on a hat and head net.

Too bad I didn't let Papa Pea take a close-up shot.  I was indeed the fetching figure swathed in long pants (sweating), the long-sleeved, dark shirt tightly buttoned with collar up (sweating), a baseball cap and head net (sweating), and gloves (sweating) as any exposed skin was fair game for the blood-thirsty varmints.

Papa Pea was mowing the poultry pasture and I was using the gathered grass clippings to mulch under the fruit trees.  'Twould have been nice for both of us to throw in the towel and work inside today but the pasture had grown to such a height that our birds were getting lost in it.  So we both toughed it out to finish the job while trying to ignore (ha!) the black flies and just about literally being able to watch the plants in the garden grow.  "Warmth!  Sunshine!" they shouted.  We could almost hear them jubilantly reveling in the good growing weather.

Could all this possibly mean summer time has finally arrived in the north woods?

Let It Be A Challenge

We're having one of the coldest spring/early summer seasons that anyone around here can remember.  Not only have we had no real warm weather yet, but sunshine has been scarce, too.

Yesterday I came across some garden pictures taken in 2010 . . . a year we had an extremely early, warm spring.  Geesh, how depressing when compared to the (non)growth in my garden this year!

But as they say, we have to take what we get when it comes to weather and make the best of it.

I have two beds of cherry tomatoes under cold frames . . . which is the only way they'd still be alive out there in our frigid temps.  The plants were long and leggy when I put them out, but I always strip the little branches and leaves off the bottom two-thirds of my tomato plants and plant them lying down with only the tops sticking up and out of the soil.  That really helps the plants develop strong root systems and the ability to bear more fruit.

My slicing cucumbers are also under a cold frame, but there are no hearty little green sprouts from those seeds yet.

I'm not planting any pickling cucs this year as "somebody" got a little carried away during her last pickling binge, and we have plenty (cases!)  of both dills and sweet pickles to tide us over for this coming year. 

The pepper plants aren't looking as good as when I set them out, but again, I believe the cold frame protection will enable them to survive until Mother Nature chooses to give us a break and send summer growing weather.

The herb and flower bed is probably crammed too full and I'll have to lift some of the flowers out when the herb plants take hold and start to grow (assuming that really will happen), but that's fine.  For now it looks like the best bed (along with maybe the first bed of lettuce) I've got going out there.

My shell peas are up and probably even enjoying this cold spring, but I've not poked any of the warm weather seeds like beans, corn or squash in the ground yet because I'm afraid the seeds would just rot.

The strawberry plants have blossoms and the blueberry bushes are more loaded with blossom buds this year than I've ever seen them.  I'm thinking we'll also get plenty of raspberries again this year, but the patch is getting old and needs to be ripped out and new canes started in a different area of the garden.  Whether that task will be accomplished this year or not remains to be seen.

I can honestly say the majority of my time in the past two weeks in which I've been a neglectful blogger has been spent garbed in very grubby apparel communing with the (albeit cool) soil in the garden.  I've gotten in good amounts of lettuces and other assorted salad greens, radishes, spinach, Swiss chard, kale, beets, turnips, kohlrabi, carrots, Brussels sprouts, cabbage, broccoli, yellow and red onions, edible podded peas (thanks to Carolyn), potatoes, cucs, peppers, and tomatoes.  Also did some planting of flowers and dividing and transplanting of same.  My panic mode is dissipating and I'm relaxing a bit so you may be hearing from me on a more regular basis again.  (What?  No wild cheering?  Not even a one-handed clap?)

I know those of you suffering in too high temperatures too early in the season would be glad to accept a great, big crate of our cold weather if I could somehow manage to ship it to you.  Seems that no matter where we gardeners choose to call home, gardening is always a challenge because of one factor or another.  But to my mind, whatever harvest we manage to get in return for our efforts is well worth it.  Gardening clothes that will never look clean again, stained hands and fingernails that resist any amount of scrubbing, stiff and sore bodies and all . . . it is worth it.

Still Slogging Away

I'm talking about the push to get the garden in, shaped up and ready for the growing season.  But I love the work.  Even though my body thinks I'm torturing it way beyond the limits of sensibility.  No worry.  I'm fine.  As long as once I stop for the day I don't try to bend over.  Or lift anything.  Or sit down.  Or try to get up.

My main reason for this little post is to show you this picture.

A really, really nice guy presented us with eight big bags of wood shavings that are so much appreciated and are joyfully being used to mulch my strawberries and blueberries.  I had given up hope of finding shavings to use this year, so you can imagine what a wonderful gift this was.  (Strange things excite a gardener, no?)  This picture is kinda weird in that it makes the bags look like loaves of bread, don't you think?  In reality, the bags are about three feet high and eighteen inches across and packed solid.  I can lift one but wouldn't want to haul it much farther than my waiting wheelbarrow.

Our temperatures are still way, way too cool for this time of year.  All the transplants I've put out in the garden look stressed and unhealthy.  I've got some seeds emerging from the soil; let's keep our fingers crossed for them.  Night before last we got down to the mid-30s and I'm sincerely hoping that will be the last frost scare until long into this coming fall.

Okay, off now to an early bedtime so I can get up with the chickens in the morning and have another fun-filled day.  I seriously don't know of anything I'd rather work so hard at than creating a garden that will (we hope, hope, hope) produce loads and loads of luscious homegrown fruits and vegetables.

But, criminy, I sure do wish Missing-in-Action-Agnes would get here to take care of the cooking and cleaning that so desperately needs to be done inside these days.

I'm Not Really Here

I'm still on my self-imposed hiatus from blogging and the computer, but since this is our third day of rain and the first of June, I gave myself permission to do this little post.

A couple of years ago, I took pictures of the garden on the first of each month during the gardening season and found it very interesting to compare them and see the change from month to month.  I decided to do that again this year so here are my June 1st photos, terribly devoid of green and growing things as they may be.  Except the grass which loves this cool, wet weather and has gotten totally away from us at this point.

Here's the nekkid pumpkin patch.  (And, yes, it will be the pumpkin patch this year, as opposed to last year when it was the potato patch.)  It's been cultivated once, but has nary a plant nor seed in it yet.  Our temps have been way too cold so far.

The field garden is starting to take shape.  Although you can't see it in the above photo, shell peas and potatoes and some flowers (both transplants and seeds) have been planted.  The strawberry patch is in fairly good shape although still not yet mulched.  The local sawmill where I've been getting the wood shavings for that task no longer has them available.  (What an unpleasant surprise that was.)  I'm still in a bit of a quandary as to what to do now and have had to weed the whole blasted patch (without the mulch the weeds are way too happy and healthy) twice so far.

I was going great guns getting the raised beds planted out, but got stopped abruptly when this thunderstorm-y, heavy rain and COLD weather moved in three days ago.

The new frames you see still have to be set into the ground after the old bed frames are taken out.  Hubby hasn't been able to work on that project in the last three days either.  Right now the new frames are stored right on top of the old frames which makes anyone who doesn't know wonder what the heck is going on out there.

The rains have brought in cold weather which we can do nothing about other than remain patient (ha!) and wait it out (gnash-gnash).  This is very much like the early summer weather we experienced for several years after we moved up here in the 1970s.  Then almost all of June was traditionally cold and wet.  We're all crossing our fingers for a lovely, long fall this year so crops have a chance of maturing.

I'm missing you all, but feeling less stress in that I do have more time each day to devote to the garden . . . and since the monsoon season has descended upon us, to the usual inside stuff that never seems to go away . . . or stay done.

Happy month of June to you all!