A Little Like Eden

I awakened this morning to a dull, dreary sky and the sound of gently falling rain. Not that I mind this at all. The inclement weather is a nice change after the week of Syracusan type heat and humidity.

The house is still quiet - the kids are still asleep. Soon Ed will come down with his characteristic 9 year old swagger to give me a morning kiss. Joey will be next, sitting in Papa's chair with his morning cup of coffee. Will is always the last to arise. And so the days go like clockwork.

The garden is lush and green and producing vegetables that delight the palate.We have been harvesting beet greens, broccoli, cauliflower,lettuce,and peas. The summer squashes are beginning to ripen, and yesterday I spied a costata romanesca that was near perfection. Cherry tomatoes are turning orange, and the first planting of green beans are 2 inches long.


Strawberry picking has become blueberry picking, and now the raspberries are ripening. Our efforts are "bearing fruit" in a very literal way.

I think I am truly becoming a "woman of the soil." (In reality, are we not all?) I find an intense pleasure in the sensual aspects of gardening - the feel and smell of good earth, the scent of impending rain on the air, the delightful aromas of dill and mint, the colors and textures of leaves, flowers, and fruit. It is an Eden-like experience. The parables of the seeds, the weeds, and the harvest all make sense when one is close to the earth.

It takes humility to have a small farm. It is not a coincidence that the 'root' of humility is the Latin "humus" for ground. Humility and earth go hand in hand. Not much is in our control - weather, weeds, insects, poor seed, and destructive birds (the geese are the worst!). We labor, and the garden bears fruit. It is an act of faith, emboldened by hope, and ultimately moved by and toward Love - love of the good earth, love of this beautiful life, and love of our Dear Father Who made it all possible.

Strawberry Fields. Forever. Please.

Doubtless God could have made
a better berry (than the strawberry), but
doubtless God never did.
-William Allen Butler

My William and I were discussing strawberries early in June as we weeded our expanded strawberry patch. Both of us agreed that there was nothing quite like the taste of a sun ripened strawberry picked and then immediately popped into the mouth. That is one of the many advantages we've discovered in growing our own berries. Our feeble effort with 50 barely surviving berry plants and a cold, wet spring 3 years ago has yielded hundreds of young plants that take up about 1/4 of the upper garden.

Not that strawberries are easy. We found that they need a lot of work - lots of manure, constant weeding, thorough picking, and slug control. (I say this with a wink, since we have never had success in the slug area. Except in feeding them, that is. We have tried everything - ducks, sharp sand, lime, the salt shaker, yes, even Papa's good homemade beer. They just keep on coming.) In the fall, they must be covered with a good layer of straw (thus their name), not hay or leaves. But the benefits are worth all the labor.

I am very grateful for the good year. We have heard that many growers were hurt by the late frost in May. Papa made a heroic effort and carefully watered all of the plants before the sun rose too high, thus saving our little patch. He had remembered the chapter in Laura Ingalls Wilder's book, Farmer Boy, when Father, Almanzo, and his siblings hurried out to the cornfield before sunrise to water the corn seedlings after a frost. One can learn a lot from good books.

Besides eating them fresh, we have had strawberry shortcake, strawberry-rhubarb sauce, and strawberry smoothies. (These have become a favorite with the boys.) I sliced up strawberries and put them over Edmund's pouf pancake yesterday, and he ate the entire pie plate full except for the slice he reluctantly "shared" with Tess. Over and over he kept exclaiming, "Yum!" I guess he liked it.

Tess and Mary have been wonderful helps with cleaning and cutting the berries. For years this was my job sometimes extending into the wee hours of the morning so as not to lose too many berries to spoilage. Yesterday we froze 8 quarts, added to the other 4 we had previously frozen.

Strawberry jam, of course, is a must, and I've tried four different types this year. William begged me to make freezer jam again, and so I made two kinds, one regular, and one lower sugar. These are softer in set, but have a fresh flavor and are simple to prepare.I did the same with the two cooked varieties, using one lower sugar recipe. I prefer the tarter jams myself. I've made strawberry-rhubarb jam in the past, but for some reason it is not as popular with the kids - unless I put it over freshly baked biscuits with a spoon of vanilla ice cream. And then there is my favorite...strawberry-rhubarb pie. Need I say anything else?