Wee Baby Melons

I'm not sure if I've ever encountered anything this cute while gardening. 

A baby watermelon.  When they are done growing they should be just big enough to enjoy all by yourself.  At least that's what the catalog told me.

Baby peppers...these will be yellow when mature, and will be yummy dipped in ranch dressing.  I planted them on my patio this year to save them from the deer knocking them off their vines out in the garden, JUST when they were ready to pick.

My garden is thriving just enough this year to produce enough for me and Riley, with a weekly trip to Grandma and Grandpa's house to furnish them with fresh veggies and flowers.  With our early Spring, and really hot weather, a lot of my usual bumper crop items didn't come up as well as they normally do.  But that's okay, it means a little less weeding.  I did however get beets to grow this year, and the carrots have arrived earlier than normal.  Part of the joy in gardening is seeing how things perform differently from year to year.  It's certainly a lesson in patience and determination.

This year I splurged and bought myself a garden cart with giant tires, a tractor seat for resting on while weeding and picking, and a handle for pulling it around.  It saves me a ton of aches and pains.  And it's red.

Off to read my canning books!

Hanging On To Summer

How do they survive?  The flowers that come back, the bugs that continue to hop and chirp about the yard.  Some things die with the very first frost, but others hang on, well past their time. 

Most of my plant beds, containers, and garden have been crispy brown and sad for a few weeks now, but as I walked around the yard tonight, watching the welcome purple clouds roll in carrying a much needed quenching rain, I found bits and pieces of summer still left over.  I picked the last of the miniature pumpkins and corraled the squashes back into the dirt so I can mow and tidy up one more time around the garden. 

I found one silly little cucumber hanging out amongst his yellow and sickly companions, they who had been hiding under once green leaves I failed to peek under.  I think one more batch of Ina Garten's Roasted Shrimp and Orzo is on the menu for this weekend.  Perhaps with a loaf of homemade bread, fresh from the oven and slathered in a bit of butter.

I found a small gaggle of stunning purple wildflowers that had decided to give one more show, and just a few black eyed susans interspersed with the weeds that have popped up here and there amidst my lack of desire for any more yardwork this year. 

My dianthus is reblooming for the third time, and I've found that although it is classified as an annual, it keeps on coming back every year.  I like that.

And wouldn't you know, this little green fellow was hanging on for dear life.  He almost seemed to be asking me, with a tilt to his head, "Excuse me Miss, but why does it have to end"?

Sorry, Mr. Grasshopper.  Summer has to end some time.  It will be back again with fresh green grass and warm breezes soon enough.  Now jump away and find a warm place to hide.  I smell snow coming.

First Freeze

I trudged through what was left of it all as the chilly air rustled the vines.  A green tomato here, a few cucumbers there.  The last of the zucchini.  Glads just starting to show color were picked, and zinnias and sunflowers cut and plopped in vases.  All that remains are the cold hardy carrots and squash.

The first freeze of the Fall season seems to come earlier each year.  But this year I was ready for it to happen.  I took on some huge canning and preserving projects this year, and I'm almost out of jars and Ziploc freezer bags.  It's time to get out the slow cooker for chili and the pie pans for apple pie.  Warm oatmeal cookies will now be dunked in hot cocoa rather than cold milk, and the finest of the red wines will be poured with dinner.

Living in Northern Minnesota grants us four seasons of change, and Fall is the one I look forward to most of all.  Fuzzy blankets come out of closets, slippers are coaxed from under the bed, and cozy sweatshirts are folded neatly in the closet, ready to be worn while I cuddle up with a good book and a hot cup of coffee on the couch.  I will miss porch sitting, watching the sun set with a cold glass of iced tea in hand, but the warmth of the beauty of Fall will suit me just fine.

Lettuce Talk About July

I've been absent from blogging because I've been too darn busy with...

the three stooges,

sunsets on the hill,

hidden treasures in the woods,

fishin' in the rain,

fishin' in the sun,

topping my mom's birthday cheesecake with fresh strawberries from our local farmer's market,

a celebration luncheon for my Granny's 90th birthday

and enjoying frites and wine, all with ladies I love,

listening to endless "Halo" matches,

eating cheese curds in Wisconsin,

visiting my sister's favorite gardening center, Stockholm Gardens,

admiring the crops at the St. Paul Farmer's Market,

pickin' wildflowers,

and TONS of lettuce.  And spinach, radishes, and turnips.  And weeds.

What a wonderful life I live.

I am NOT a Gopher Fan

The only way to get rid of them is with a pellet gun.  Or a shot gun.  Or a large arsenal of explosives, apparently.  If you know a better way, help me out.  I don't want to go the poison route, but any ideas are more than welcome.

The summer started out with one adorable little gopher trying to outrun me to the ditch before I could run him over with the lawnmower. Oh the fun I had watching him weave back and forth through the tall grass, looking for a safe refuge.  I tapped the brake to give him a head start.  Now I wish I had kicked it in gear and cruised right on over him.

They're eating my peas, the beautiful fresh shoots that came from the seeds I so lovingly planted.  They have dug holes all over the yard, one of which I just discovered in my freshly manicured perennial beds, dirt flung all over the sidewalk.  WRETCHED gophers!  (For lack of a better word).

Tonight while mowing I was actually looking for one to run over.  Bring it on gopher-man.  I didn't see even one.  Until I approached the open garage door to drive the mower in.  There sat one of the little brats, and I'm pretty sure he was telling me he was Number One.  He ran into the garage, and after ten minutes of trying to shoosh him out I gave up.  I walked around to the back of the house and propped the pellet gun (thanks, Dad) on the patio.  Then remembering I had forgotten to grab the hoe that I needed to weed the garden, I proceeded back around the corner, all the while telling myself "I bet that damn gopher will be just sittin' there".  And he was. Right outside the door, giving me the other finger.

I got him though.

Heather, 3; Gophers, 0.  (Insert evil cackle).

Could It Be?

Second installment of grass seed spread and watered in.  Check.

Trees that didn't make it through the harsh winter cut down and ready to burn on the bonfire.  Check.

Brick patio in.  Check.

Brick sidewalk in.  Check.

Annuals and perennials planted into pots and beds.  Check.

Everything covered in fresh bark.  Check.

Garden planted and new little green plants peeking out daily.  Check.

Could it be that we are finally caught up with yard work?  After putting in all these new things for the last two summers I think we are at a point where we can actually enjoy it.  My chair cushions are at hand and my feet are ready to put up and watch the birds come to the feeders we installed throughout it all.

Family will be coming for another big 4th of July celebration at our house, as well as partying it up for my parent's 50th anniversary in August.  S'mores will be toasted and hot dogs roasted.  I best go chill the beverages!

Another Project Complete

Oy vay am I tired.  Two weeks of playing in the sand and flinging bricks around is a lot of work.  But I foresee a lot of hours spent sitting here enjoying a warm breeze, good conversation, and just a few glasses of wine.

I have yet to add black dirt around the perimeter and plant some more perennials that will create a cozy little hideaway for us.  The garage is already full of what I've bought so far, and there's no room for more until I can put some plants into the ground permanently.

My trusty helper is pretty tired too, but having another place for us to hang out together still puts a smile on his face.  I couldn't have done it without him.

If You Put Your Patio Furniture Out in April...

It will snow at least 6 inches.

If you get out your rake and think about cleaning up your yard as you admire the fresh green shoots of grass that just appeared, you will wake up to this outside your bedroom window.

If you think about watering anything that might have started growing in your yard in the last two weeks when it got up to almost 70 degrees, the snow will pile up on top of this.

Really?

I'm going back to bed.

Nestled All Snug In Their Beds

Five kinds of tomatoes.  Three kinds of sweet peppers.  Tiny cantaloupes that will be just big enough to hold one scoop of cool vanilla ice cream.  Baby watermelons that Riley and Grandpa will fight over.  Cilantro and parsley and basil to sprinkle over everything.  And we even planted popcorn.

Now all we can do is wait for the magic to happen.  In a few weeks when I walk into my "greenhouse" I will see tiny green leaves peeking out from the potting mix made especially for them.  They will continue to get spritzed from the water bottle when they need it, and their lighting will be adjusted as they grow taller and taller.  The days will get warm enough that they can be brought outside for just a bit to turn their leaves to the sun and get strong enough to be transplanted into the garden and survive on their own.

But for now, I still have three seed starting trays that I didn't use.  And two bags of dirt.

Whatever shall I do?

It Just Figures

I didn't want to do it.  I knew it would be a TON of work.  I encouraged my sister not to do it too.  But now I'm doing it.

Starting plants from seed can really be as easy or as complicated as you want it to be.  Over the years I have made some feeble attempts at starting trays of tomatoes and peppers and wildflowers, only to see them grow too fast and get spindly, or be left out in a sudden and completely unexpected snow storm as I was attempting to harden them off.  Last year I did have some success with a few things, but the inevitable frost took most of what I had labored so hard to produce fruit.  I was SO close.

This year after much deliberation, and much complaining over prices of vegetables in the grocery store, I decided to bite the bullet and establish a good growing system that I could use year after year.  I already had some metal shelving that would work perfectly for holding my seed trays, now all I needed was the appropriate lighting and temperature control.  I ordered two sets of grow lights with special T5 bulbs from Amazon.com, and they came equipped with frames and adjustable pullies for adjusting the light levels as my plants grow.  The seeds I ordered from catalogs have all arrived, and a few more packets I picked up at local stores are ready to be planted. 

I've found much useful information about gardening from the University of Minnesota extension website, as well as information on becoming a Master Gardener, if I ever find an extra 10-20 hours in my day.  For now I'm just gonna stick with being a master at my own home garden.

I'm Sure My Neighbors Think I'm Crazy

The last time I jumped up and down at my mailbox and let out a little shriek was when the final signed copies of my divorce papers arrived.  I then danced all the way back into the house.

Most recently, my neighbors could hear me squealing at the sight of a giant envelope from "Gurney's", full of garden seeds I had ordered the week before.  Riley thought I was nuts.  That's why he gets to do all the weeding this summer.

I was so excited to open it and see all the brightly colored packages, to lay them out on my table and make a plan for all the fresh veggies we would have very soon and all the flower arrangements I could make to decorate our house.

All the packages were white.  Just like the ones my dad insisted on buying at the old "Northern Seed" store.  I would wander through the store for at least an hour, picking out pretty envelopes full of cosmos and marigolds and sunflowers, and when he was ready to go I would have to put them all back where I had found them, because they were never on "the list".

But at least I'm still single!

I Can Hear Them Talking To Me

I can ALMOST smell it in the air.  That hint of Spring, just around the corner.  I know there are still many feet of snow to melt, and it's supposed to be bitter cold again later this week, but my mind is willing that all away and trying to smell the Spring.  Just to imagine something alive, something other than snow and ice and shoveling helps me get out of my warm bed in the morning and face the chilly day.

That goofy Groundhog did his job the other day and figures we will have an early Spring and I'm willing to believe in that sort of prediction if it means I can get out of this winter rut and have something bright and warm to look forward to.

The seed catalogs have been whispering to me from the bottom of my magazine basket.  I've been frittering them away so as not to get too excited about a venture that seems so far away, but now that I've smelled the Spring, it's time to dig them out and start making lists.  And drawing diagrams.  And inventorying my seed starting arsenal.

This year I will be putting in the tried and true things that worked last year, which was actually EVERYTHING I planted.  I've been blessed with magic soil, but there are still a few things I want to get started early so they will actually produce before the first frost; pumpkins, eggplant, maybe some melons?  I can hardly wait to put on a fresh pair of garden gloves and dig my hands into the warm earth, to feel the spray of the garden hose against my bare legs.  I can already taste the fresh tomatoes, the pesto, and the carrots.  I can see the vases of sunflowers and cosmos, and all the other flowers I plan to add that I didn't buy in time last year.

If you don't get any seed catalogs in the mail, get on the internet right now, and get yourself on a mailing list.  Gurney's, Spring Hill Nursery, Burpees; just typing the names makes me giddy.  After reading through my catalogs every single page will be dog-eared and I will want one of everything, so I will go through a few more times to narrow down my selections.  But I know I will still end up not having enough room in my garden.  I never do.

Falling into Fall

The leaves are turning too quickly, and falling even faster.  I haven't had a chance to get out in the woods for my annual Fall photo shoot, but if the weather cooperates I should be able to get to it this week.

Back when I was a young girl my older sister used to take me out every Fall to collect pretty leaves, and then we would find the biggest, heaviest, musty old books in our parents collection and fill the pages with the most vibrant hues of orange, yellow and red that we wanted to press and save.  I imagine if you flipped through some of the books we used so many years ago you would still have a few flutter out at you.

Fall is my absolute favorite time of year.  There's just something about the abrupt change in weather, the variety of temperatures from frost in the morning to warmth in the afternoon and back into chilly evenings, and the first night sleeping in flannel jammies that just makes me smile.  I'm making lists of things to do with Riley before it snows; heading out to the pumpkin patch, decorating our front porch with scary ghouls and spiders for trick or treaters to enjoy, and deciding what theme he wants for his birthday as he is an October baby.

We have had threats of freezing weather at night that haven't happened yet, lucky me.  I know that I need to get in my garden and harvest the last of the temperate vegetables, herbs, and flowers, but I haven't succombed to the fear of losing it all yet.  I know one of these mornings I will wake up, look out my bedroom window, and see the telltale gleam of frost over all the things that took so long to grow. It's such a marked transition; from cursing the heat and wishing for cooler weather, to knowing that with one fell swoop of Mother Nature all the weeding and watering is done for the year, and we can all rest until Spring arrives once more.

This week there will be the pungent aroma of onions as they are diced and put away to freeze, carrots being shredded for bread and cake, and herbs hung everywhere to dry where the cats can't quite reach them.  My recipe file is bursting with stews and warm cheesy biscuits and apple dumplings to be made.  And soon we will need to go shopping for new winter boots.

Ahh, Fall.  You are so very welcome once again.

Freezer Space

The last two days have been spent in my garden and kitchen.  From carrots to zucchini, I've picked, processed, baked, and frozen much of the current harvest.

Herbs were chopped, mixed with olive oil, spooned into ice cube trays until they were frozen, and then popped into freezer bags so I can add them to soups and stews after the now lush plants have died away.  Beans were cut up, blanched, and put into freezer bags for Fall and Winter dinners.  Zucchini was shredded, shared, and what was left over was made into several mini loaves of zucchini-banana bread. 

Carrots were processed and made into the best carrot cake I've ever had.  Once the cream cheese frosting was spread, Riley and I drove down to my parents while it was still warm and shared it together.  The remainder of the bunch will be made into carrot cake pancakes tomorrow morning, after we take advantage of the day off and sleep in a little.

Tomatoes were crushed for pizza sauce, onions were diced and frozen for future use, and cucumbers were delivered to my dad so that he can make another batch of refrigerator pickles; it really is his specialty.

There is a pile of recipes and pictures to be blogged about, and after I enjoy one more day of summer fishing with the family I promise to share them with you.  My copy of the newly released, "The Earthbound Cook" by Myra Goodman is on it's way, and I can't wait to try some new recipes from it with the continued harvest from my garden before the first frost hits.  If you would like to preview the book, check out the Amazon cookbook section to the left of this post, and click on the cookbook.

Enjoy your Labor Day with food, friends, and family!

The Minnesota Table

Last week I had the pleasure of being invited to a cookbook signing.  The book was "The Minnesota Table: Recipes for Savoring Local Food Throughout the Year", by Shelley N.C. Holl with recipes by B.J. Carpenter. 

The signing was held at the home of Sue Doeden, my favorite local food celebrity.  Sue writes the food section of our local paper, The Bemidji Pioneer, and having admired her writing and her recipes for years I was beyond excited to finally meet her.

I attended the event with my cousin Shelly, who Sue had been wanting to meet after admiring her blog, Livin" Life on Bixby Avenue.

After sampling edamame dip with fresh veggies, deviled eggs, wild rice dried cranberry salad with clementine vinaigrette, caramel apple cheesecake, and a few other yummy samples, we chatted about food and blogging and some fun things we wanted to do about it all in the future.  Sue is a beautiful woman; talented, gracious, and so well-spoken.  "The Minnesota Table" was her book club's selection this month, and through the grapevine she was able to get the authors to Bemidji and invited the public into her home to sample food from the book, as well as a great selection of beverages, one of them being a honey lemonade that is served at The Minnesota State Fair.

We anxiously waited in line to have our books signed, and Shelly and I decided to purchase one for my sister since she is just as much a cookbook junkie as we are.  The authors were obviously very proud of their work, and they should be.

B.J. Carpenter contributed the recipes, I imagine with just a bit of taste testing from her companion, Gracie.  She is a professionally trained chef, culinary instructor, certified dietary manager, and freelance food writer.  The apron she is wearing is one of Shelley's creations.

Shelley N.C. Holl is a painter, photographer, gift and fashion accessory designer, teacher, and a former travel columnist.   

Their collaboration on this cookbook is a true work of art, from the Giclee prints to the writing to the way they divided the chapters into Minnesota's growing seasons and offer recipes to take advantage of what's available in your local grocery store as well as the growing list of Minnesota Farmer's Markets.  They also have tips on freezing and preserving, which is a very important technique to master when you are a Minnesota cook. 

I look forward to browsing through this cookbook again and again as I enjoy the last days of summer on my porch, with a cold glass of honey lemonade at my side and visions of maple sugar creme brulee dancing in my head.  Thanks again to Sue for opening her beautiful home to all of us.  It was a wonderful night.

Making Use of Down Time

The last week has found me completely under the weather.  In the hours I managed to sit upright, I spent some time trying to plan ahead for the fall harvest.  It's gonna be a big one if the weather stays as warm as it's been, and I'm hoping for the snow to stay away at least until I get a full crop of tomatoes to turn red.

I've clipped recipes for pickling, canning, and items to bake, such as red beet chocolate cake.  When you start to look you can find so many more things to do with veggies than just cooking them in or out of their skins, and adding them to baked goods and other concoctions certainly makes you feel a little bit healthier; unless of course you slather the aforementioned baked good with frosting.

Having planted such a huge garden and seeing it get completely out of hand has me a bit scared, and I am concocting a full arsenal of a large variety of things to make with all the loot.  If my head can regulate itself (I've decided that it's the weather that is giving me pains, we've exhausted all the other causes) I will be up early and up late using the oven during the cooler times of the day.  I am so looking forward to donning a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans to keep the first fall chill at bay.

If I come to you in the next few weeks begging you to please take some zucchini off my hands, please don't say no.  I will be more than happy to include some recipes with it.

I Knew This Would Happen SOME DAY

Ever since I was 5 years old, I remember seeing my dad at the helm of his garden tiller.  I knew this meant a lot of work, a lot of complaining from my older siblings, and a whole bunch of fresh veggies.  We were raised to get our chores finished before we could do anything else, and in the summer months when school was out this meant being dragged out of bed to weed the garden.  In my teenage years this meant dragging myself out of bed at noon, and then having to fight the sun at it's highest point, sweat dripping in my eyes and bugs buzzing all around me.  It was my own fault that I didn't get up at seven when my mom first started prodding me, as well as at 9 when she finally gave up.  It seemed an endless battle, having to start it all over again the following week.  I swore I would NEVER make my kid weed a garden, nor would I ever have one for that kid to weed.  What a waste of time.  Why couldn't we just buy our veggies at the store like everyone else?

I bought my first house with my now ex-husband when I was 24 years old, and the first thing I wanted before anything else was to figure out if we could have a garden on our lot.  This garnered a giant grin from my dad when I asked him if we could borrow the tiller.

The ex lasted about two minutes behind the helm, claiming the ground was just too hard and he didn't want to fight it.  Unless I wanted to dig the rows myself, my garden dreams were dashed; I didn't have the strength to run it by myself, and I certainly wasn't going to ask my dad to do it when I had a husband who should have been more willing to take care of me. This continued on to the next two houses we lived in, my trying in vain to convince him that it was worth it, that fresh veggies tasted so much better, that it would be an opportunity for us to teach Riley about working the earth, and see his excited face when the seeds we planted and tended first poked out of the ground, that it would save us money that he could then turn around and spend on his many hobbies he enjoyed by himself.  But it was a dream for another day, a day when I would be able to decide what was best for me, and for Riley, with no complaints, and no one holding us back from doing what we truly enjoyed. 

Thirteen years later, we finally have that garden.  And the same tiller that ellicited so much whining from me and my siblings when we were young, the same tiller that broke up the earth in two gardens at each of the houses we lived in as kids, the same tiller that was the start of every season filled with fresh sweet corn, beans, peas, potatoes, and many other veggies was right there by my side.  Along with my dad, who has always been there too.

After working so hard in our new yard throughout the Spring, after purchasing a huge bag of seeds, bags of onions sets, glad bulbs, and flats of tomato plants, I declared that I was just too tired to plant a garden this year.  I had been diagnosed with tendonitis in my left arm from overworking it; moving trees, digging up rocks, and just doing the general hard work it takes to landscape a new yard.  My dad had it too, mostly from helping build my house with my brother and nephew the previous summer.  So I thought we should just wait until next year.

Nope.  The morning of my dad's birthday, after firing up the old tiller and finding it needed some work, my dad completed the repairs and hauled it on up to our house.  He unloaded it from his truck and rolled it on over to the back yard, where I imagined a small plot would be dug.  The Merry Tiller sputtered and smoked and quit a few times, but then faithfully pulled him behind it as it had done for so many years before.  My dad inherited it from my grandpa, and neither of us could dare to figure out how old it really is.  An hour later I had a plot that was 16 feet by 56 feet wide, the entire width of our house.  My dad never does things small, whether it's fishing or gardening.  And it's one of the things I love the most about him.

One thing we are never short of in our yard is rocks, and as Grandpa Dave tilled we walked behind him to gather the big ones, which would later be added to our rock fire pit I had put together with all the rocks collected during excavation and throughout my landscaping projects.  Riley has been such a wonderful help during all of our projects, and he knows how much this means not only to me, but to his grandpa too.  I am so trying to instill in him the things that are important in life; hard work, patience, and respecting the earth and all it can provide for us.  He gets it already, and I am so proud of that.

A few weeks later, after the weeds had died back, my dad came back to till it all over one more time.  Because that's what you do. Then the marking of the rows commenced.  In our family you don't just throw seeds in willy nilly.  There are poles driven into the ground, and string, and tape measures. You need to leave enough room between the rows for walking and enough room for things to grow.

There is also this seed planting tool that has probably been around just as long as Merry Tiller. 

Can you see the letters associated with each seed?  You put your seeds in the metal circle under the red plastic, then dial up what you have in there, and it makes an opening in the wheel just big enough for your seeds to fall out of as you roll it along the row.

I was concerned that nothing would even come up, as we didn't put anything in the ground until June 27, and that's pretty late for us Northern Minnesota gardeners.  But two weeks later I got up in the morning, peeked through my bedroom curtains, and saw this.

Just as most things associated with my family, where there is a will, there is a way.  And with their help, I can always makes things happen that I never dreamed possible on my own.

There was basil.

And cabbage.

Tomatoes that had grown much more than they could have in the pots I bought them in.

Onions in yellow, white, and red, that Riley planted with his two growing hands.

And peas.

Tonight my parents came over for dinner, and soon after we finished my dad wanted to go check things out.  I had been telling him how much everything had been growing with all the rain and hot weather we have been having.  I think he might have been a little impressed, and hopefully a bit proud.  We had been having a discussion earlier in the evening about how people are raised differently, and I reminded him that we were raised to take care of ourselves, to be patient in all our endeavors, to love our kids, and to keep busy.  We've certainly been busy this season.

And taking this picture made it all completely worth the effort.

After picking the first crop of radishes I planted for my dad so he and Riley could enjoy them with a dab of butter (a delicacy my dad introduced him to a few months earlier), or as a radish sandwich, it was time for more watering, with my trusty boy manning the hose and the three of us watching his technique.

And it all keeps on growing.

The Harvest Begins Again

What a glorious day.  Not in a long time have I been able to spend a day doing so many of the things I love, and been able to fit it all within 24 hours.

My day began on an adventure with my son Riley and my parents to a Mennonite farm west of Bemidji.  My dad learned of the place from a neighbor, and has been visiting them frequently over the last two years.  You would have to see it to believe it.  I still need to do some research on the Mennonite way, but from what I saw today it is something that looks very strenuous, very close to nature, and very, very different from the way most of us live.  The last vision I remember is the owner of the farm riding his bike (no gas powered vehicles allowed), with a cart full of freshly picked beans, rutabagas, and other veggies behind him, up to the main house where we and a few other lucky soles were at the ready to buy them all up.  For a song.  It was like the scene in "The Wizard of Oz" where Ms. Gulch is riding away with Toto in her basket, except with a very fit man at the helm pedaling as fast as I can only imagine his very toned legs would allow him.

My dad has fashioned a sort of friendship with the man of the house, and the last time he visited the farm there was talk of fishing, and how the whole family loves to go but rarely has time, especially during the busy summer months. So this time there were two large bags of fish in the back of the truck that my dad tried to sneak to him, knowing he would never take it from him without offering something to him in return.  That turned out to be a giant bag of new red potatoes, freshly scrubbed and ready to be cooked. 

I bought red and yellow tomatoes, burpless cucumbers, beets, carrots, onions, and zucchini for a grand total of $6.75.  If we had been able to find where the husky puppies were that Riley heard mention of we probably would have been going home with one of them too.  They have chickens, and pigs EVERYWHERE, literally, they ran up to my dad's truck and oinked at us.

Knowing that they probably shied away from the camera, the only picture I took was of the pigs, and I think you all know what they look like.

Over the next week there will be bruschetta made from the tomatoes, an orzo pasta salad with cucumbers and feta, roasted beets, and zucchini cupcakes with penuche frosting being concocted in my kitchen, and my parents over to share in the feast.

The rest of today was a breeze.  I gave my mom a haircut, sat on the deck in the sun and drank coffee and read magazines, watched "Green Zone" with Matt Damon (he will make your day no matter what's going on), and capped off the days food fest with grilled steak my dad ran into town to get fresh from the meat counter, a giant green salad topped with an assortment of the veggies we bought, and the first corn of the season we had purchased out of the back of a pickup on the way home.

My boy is home from spending a few hours with his dad, and we are going to have cold, creamy bowls of ice cream and watch a funny movie.

Life is good.  Again.

Remembering

One year ago this week Riley and I were walking the land that our house would be built upon. So many wonderful things have happened since then.

Grass seed has been planted, perennials are going in, and the maple and crab apple trees are in full bloom. I planted a pink crab apple in remembrance of my Aunt Sandy who died of breast cancer, and a white one in remembrance of my Grandma Betty. I always remember the huge tree they had in the front yard of their pink house. Yep, pink.

I am planning a red and pink combo garden for my Great Grandma Ethel. She always had some sort of arrangement of red and pink plastic roses in her bedroom. Yep, plastic. And she always had a bag of circus peanuts to share with me when I visited, but that's for another day. She also grew roses in her yard, and I have yet to figure out how she coaxed them back into blooming each year. Perhaps they had hardier varieties back in the day.

The hosta that my Grandma Doris gave me years ago are showing their green fronds, and will soon join the profusion of peonies planted along the back of my house. I worried they would not come back this year after being relocated so many times in the last ten years, but there they are, just as stubborn and strong as her after 88 years of livin'.

The goal for my yard and garden is to surround myself with memories of family. I don't usually visit the graveyard, not even on Memorial Day. To me their resting places are just a symbol of finality, but their spirits are all around me, pushing me to carry on the things they loved and enjoyed, so that when I smell the fragrant crab apple blossoms or pick a bunch of lilacs I will smile. I see my grandparents in the lines of my father's face, and my aunt in the eyes of my mom. I do not need a calendar to remind me to go visit them, for they are with me every day.

This weekend will be a time of pulling it all together. There is a walkway to be constructed, trees to move, and a huge decision to be made as to if I will plant a garden this year, or wait for next year. I am coming to realize how huge a task this all is for one woman to accomplish, though Riley has been building his muscles manning the wheelbarrow for me, and getting a little extra allowance for his efforts. I want him to learn all the things that have been passed on to me from other generations, and to appreciate what he can do with just dirt, water, and sunshine. And a huge amount of love and patience.  Some day he will plant trees of his own, perhaps one for me, and he will remember the times we spent out on the porch, after the day's work was done, enjoying a "pop" and talking about how wonderful everything will look when it's all grown up.

I Just Couldn't Stand It Any More

I don't care if I have to bring things in and out, and in and out again, every single day for the next month.  Or two.  I don't care if my garage is crowded with plants and there's water and a little dirt on the floor.  I don't even care if it snows again, because we all know, it probably will.

It was time to get the plants.  My skin was starting to itch and every time I had to just "drive past" a greenhouse I started to shake a little.  Seriously.

This afternoon I bribed Riley into coming with me to my favorite greenhouse south of town, Nature's Edge, by having a nice cold pop ready for him when I picked him up from school, and reminding him that he would get to visit with the resident Basset Hounds.  Score.

Upon walking into their massive greenhouse I stood with my mouth hanging open at the beauty of it all, bombarded by the smell of dirt and sweet alyssum and fragrant pansies in tons of fun colors.  Oh how would I ever decide?

I went with an old favorite, Calibrachoa (otherwise known as Million Bells), which shows up in new colors every year.  I got my favorite, pink with yellow centers, which Lewi seemed to like too, even if it's only through the porch window...

My signature color, red...next to the chair cushions my sweet sister gave me for our new patio furniture, they look perfect.

And one with a mixture of yellow, orange and red calibrachoa.

Of course I had to get a flat of assorted goodies.  I laughed at the owner when he said, "Here's A FLAT for you".  Like one is ever enough.  I did hold back a bit though, since I wanted to spend the bulk of my allowance on giant baskets. And because I will probably be making at least 3 or 8 more trips out there this year.

Assorted pansies, white alyssum, spearmint, yellow pear tomatoes, and chocolate peppers.  Yep, CHOCOLATE.  I attempted to start a bunch of different varieties of tomato plants this year, but none of them seemed to like me.  I bought my dad some chocolate cherry tomato plants last week, so we are all set. There's also a pot of black cat petunias with yellow centers in there that Riley picked out, sorry you can't see them, they are totally cool.  Or so he said when he told me we needed to get them. That's my boy.

It's amazing to see the new varieties of plants they come out with each year.  It almost makes me wish I would have studied to be a horticulturist, instead of an accountant.

Please stop laughing...

I always buy tried and true favorites and add a few crazy things into the mix, because how will you know if you like something until you try it?  Kind of like my experience with brussel sprouts at Easter. (P.S. I love them).

And I finally bought myself a giant pink Bleeding Heart plant.  The one at my sister's is so amazing every Summer, I needed one in my yard too.

Riley also found this rooster, on a shtick, to shtick in the yard.  Somehow he's even funner because he's on a shtick, don't you think?

He will be hidden in the back of my closet until it's time to wrap him up and give him to Grandma Diane for her birthday in a couple of months.  She digs roosters.

I hope you are having as much fun this Spring as I am, even if it has been slow to get here.

Cock-a-doodle-do!