This post wins the award for longest post ever, but summer has taken over and we've been drinking it in heartily. So I'm going to play catchup on just a few of the sunny adventures from the last couple weeks.
***************************************************************************
Strawberries
For the better part of the long, gray, northeastern winter I anticipate summer. I dog ear pages in seed catalogs. I daydream grand plans for our yard and our garden. I imagine biting into a warm ripe tomato straight off the vine. Opening day of the farmer's market has an affect on me similar to that of Christmas on a six year old. In April and May I grow a little antsy as the sun gets warmer, and trees and flowers begin to blossom. The spectacular display seems a little like a tease. I wait anxiously for the goods, for the opportunity to reap what I sow, and enjoy Mother Earth's generous bounty. And look out when I get word that Pallman's Farm has opened for the strawberry picking season.
We gathered our buckets and bowls, and headed to the strawberry patch. The sun warmed our shoulders and enormous white clouds drifted above. The leaves of the strawberry bush were still cradling tiny puddles of rain from the downpour that passed. Strawberry after strawberry plunked into our bucket, but you know the ripest and sweetest of the berries didn't make it into the bucket. Milani wandered up and down the row, sometimes popping a berry off the bush, other times sneaking one out of the bowl.
The evidence was smeared across her crimson face, framing her content grin.
Sister already knows that nothing compares to a berry plucked right from the bush and popped into your mouth. We abandoned our post only when the bowls and buckets grew heavy with berries.
Some of our berries got frozen. Many of our berries were gobbled up. And the rest of our berries were turned into sweet strawberry jam and preserved in glass jars to last us until we pick again next June.
I can look forward to popping the lid off of a jar of jam on some bitter January day, and I know that out of that jar I will get so much more than strawberry jam. I will get the sweet memory of picking berries with people I love. I will picture Milani's face streaked with strawberry juice. I will get the goodness of fresh, ripe local produce, picked with my own hands, and turned into jam on a warm Saturday morning. It will be packed with the life, and love of Mother Nature and the satisfaction of making something delicious in my own kitchen. No jar from a grocery store shelf can even begin to rival the rewards of canning my own jam. So much so that I've decided, this summer, to can and preserve as much of this sweet summertime as I can. Blueberry preserves, peaches, peach butter, dilly beans, tomato sauce, salsa, applesauce...Oh my plans are grand indeed.
*************************************************************************************
Our Garden
I was flipping the pages of Martha Stewart Living magazine this morning. It wasn't any Martha Stewart Living magazine however, it was the Special Gardening Issue from March 2008 given to me by Andrea. As I studied each page, I have to admit I was turning green with garden envy. I'm aware that it is absolutely absurd to be jealous of Martha's massive plot, because I'm sure the woman has an entire team dedicated to its planning and planting, maintenance and upkeep. But oh my goodness is it spectacular.
Every year we start our seeds in early spring with high hopes and good intentions. Remember, I've been planning this garden in my daydreams since the first frost. Yet somehow life gets away from us and our execution ends up somewhat mediocre. Flower beds get overrun with weeds. Seedlings are left to wither. Seeds are sown four weeks later than they should, leaving us with measly cucumber and squash plants. So I'll probably flip through those shiny pages for the sixth time, and soak in every tip, trick, and detail. And maybe Milani and I will take a walk to the library and pick out a gardening book. There is so much to learn, it's almost overwhelming.
But the point of our garden isn't to feed an army or outdo Martha, and the fact is, we've already pulled out a fair amount of peas, and our tomato plants have taken on a life of their own. We will make salads with our lettuce, and soup with our leeks, and enjoy every bite of the things we harvest. Each year we will strive to execute it a little bit better, learn a little bit more, and harvest a bigger crop, but in reality the current view from our garden rail isn't all too shabby. Our gardening journey is off to a pretty good start and we'll only get better from here.
This year's bounty is slowly emerging.
It's starting with snow peas and sugar snap peas, though we seriously underestimated how many vines we needed to plant. We only get to pick a pathetic handful of pods every couple days. We anxiously watch for each pod to ripen before we pluck it and devour it right in the backyard. Lulu knows when she sees me scouring the vines, and she toddles her booty over to the garden fence and demands her share of the snap peas with those massive brown eyes and toothy grin. How can I resist!? I love that my girl loves the things we grow in our own soil. I love that she gobbles down the sweet green peas, and then insists on chewing on the pod until all the sugar is sucked out.
If she thinks the pod peas are good, wait 'till she gets a glimpse of the massive amount of grape tomatoes we're about to be assaulted with.
**************************************************************************************
At the Lake
Many of my fondest childhood memories are set against the backdrop of Lake Wallenpaupack. I remember playing with cap guns around the camp site, saddling up on one of my imaginary horses and riding through the brush. I remember long days spent bobbing atop the waves, anchored in our cove, making up water games, and reading magazines in the sun. We sucked down fresh squeezed lemonade, and boxes of Yoo Hoo. Spit cherry pits from the side of the boat and watched as they plunked into the water. Man, there are so so many good times tucked away in my memory from our days at that lake.
Which is why its so amazing and emotional for me to watch Milani splash and play in the cool early summer water at Lake Winola. My girl didn't hesitate as the chilly water lapped at her toes. She loves to be in the water, I think it's in her genes.
She scooped up buckets of cool water and shiny pebbles and dumped them enthusiastically back into the small waves. She watched her cousins play with squirt guns.
It won't be long before she's asking to go tubing, or taking her first stab at waterskiing. Maybe her memories of days spent at the lake will be some of her fondest.
***********************************************************************************
Stay tuned for more summer adventures, we're only getting started! Happy Thursday!
***************************************************************************
Strawberries
For the better part of the long, gray, northeastern winter I anticipate summer. I dog ear pages in seed catalogs. I daydream grand plans for our yard and our garden. I imagine biting into a warm ripe tomato straight off the vine. Opening day of the farmer's market has an affect on me similar to that of Christmas on a six year old. In April and May I grow a little antsy as the sun gets warmer, and trees and flowers begin to blossom. The spectacular display seems a little like a tease. I wait anxiously for the goods, for the opportunity to reap what I sow, and enjoy Mother Earth's generous bounty. And look out when I get word that Pallman's Farm has opened for the strawberry picking season.
We gathered our buckets and bowls, and headed to the strawberry patch. The sun warmed our shoulders and enormous white clouds drifted above. The leaves of the strawberry bush were still cradling tiny puddles of rain from the downpour that passed. Strawberry after strawberry plunked into our bucket, but you know the ripest and sweetest of the berries didn't make it into the bucket. Milani wandered up and down the row, sometimes popping a berry off the bush, other times sneaking one out of the bowl.
The evidence was smeared across her crimson face, framing her content grin.
Sister already knows that nothing compares to a berry plucked right from the bush and popped into your mouth. We abandoned our post only when the bowls and buckets grew heavy with berries.
Some of our berries got frozen. Many of our berries were gobbled up. And the rest of our berries were turned into sweet strawberry jam and preserved in glass jars to last us until we pick again next June.
I can look forward to popping the lid off of a jar of jam on some bitter January day, and I know that out of that jar I will get so much more than strawberry jam. I will get the sweet memory of picking berries with people I love. I will picture Milani's face streaked with strawberry juice. I will get the goodness of fresh, ripe local produce, picked with my own hands, and turned into jam on a warm Saturday morning. It will be packed with the life, and love of Mother Nature and the satisfaction of making something delicious in my own kitchen. No jar from a grocery store shelf can even begin to rival the rewards of canning my own jam. So much so that I've decided, this summer, to can and preserve as much of this sweet summertime as I can. Blueberry preserves, peaches, peach butter, dilly beans, tomato sauce, salsa, applesauce...Oh my plans are grand indeed.
*************************************************************************************
Our Garden
I was flipping the pages of Martha Stewart Living magazine this morning. It wasn't any Martha Stewart Living magazine however, it was the Special Gardening Issue from March 2008 given to me by Andrea. As I studied each page, I have to admit I was turning green with garden envy. I'm aware that it is absolutely absurd to be jealous of Martha's massive plot, because I'm sure the woman has an entire team dedicated to its planning and planting, maintenance and upkeep. But oh my goodness is it spectacular.
Every year we start our seeds in early spring with high hopes and good intentions. Remember, I've been planning this garden in my daydreams since the first frost. Yet somehow life gets away from us and our execution ends up somewhat mediocre. Flower beds get overrun with weeds. Seedlings are left to wither. Seeds are sown four weeks later than they should, leaving us with measly cucumber and squash plants. So I'll probably flip through those shiny pages for the sixth time, and soak in every tip, trick, and detail. And maybe Milani and I will take a walk to the library and pick out a gardening book. There is so much to learn, it's almost overwhelming.
But the point of our garden isn't to feed an army or outdo Martha, and the fact is, we've already pulled out a fair amount of peas, and our tomato plants have taken on a life of their own. We will make salads with our lettuce, and soup with our leeks, and enjoy every bite of the things we harvest. Each year we will strive to execute it a little bit better, learn a little bit more, and harvest a bigger crop, but in reality the current view from our garden rail isn't all too shabby. Our gardening journey is off to a pretty good start and we'll only get better from here.
This year's bounty is slowly emerging.
 |
| leeks snow peas |
 |
| red romaine lettuce |
 |
| some of the sweetest grape tomatoes |
 |
| bees pollinating the funky flowers that bloomed atop the onions and leeks |
If she thinks the pod peas are good, wait 'till she gets a glimpse of the massive amount of grape tomatoes we're about to be assaulted with.
**************************************************************************************
At the Lake
Many of my fondest childhood memories are set against the backdrop of Lake Wallenpaupack. I remember playing with cap guns around the camp site, saddling up on one of my imaginary horses and riding through the brush. I remember long days spent bobbing atop the waves, anchored in our cove, making up water games, and reading magazines in the sun. We sucked down fresh squeezed lemonade, and boxes of Yoo Hoo. Spit cherry pits from the side of the boat and watched as they plunked into the water. Man, there are so so many good times tucked away in my memory from our days at that lake.
Which is why its so amazing and emotional for me to watch Milani splash and play in the cool early summer water at Lake Winola. My girl didn't hesitate as the chilly water lapped at her toes. She loves to be in the water, I think it's in her genes.
She scooped up buckets of cool water and shiny pebbles and dumped them enthusiastically back into the small waves. She watched her cousins play with squirt guns.
It won't be long before she's asking to go tubing, or taking her first stab at waterskiing. Maybe her memories of days spent at the lake will be some of her fondest.
***********************************************************************************
Stay tuned for more summer adventures, we're only getting started! Happy Thursday!