Just Off the Boat

Summertime in Hyde County means an abundance of food of all sorts. Beautiful vegetables and fruits flourish in our dark soil, and my boys and I have been enjoying a steady stream from our gardens and local farms. My favorite local summertime food doesn't plant its roots in our fertile earth, however, but can be instead found in the rich waters of the Pamlico Sound that hug our coastline. That's right, I'm talking about shrimp!

The Pamlico Sound stretches over an area of 1700 square miles, and due to a maze of shifting shoals, its depth averages about 15 feet.  Receiving freshwater from the Neuse and Pamlico Rivers and the Albemarle Sound, as well as saltwater from the ocean through multiple inlets, the Pamlico Sound offers a mix of habitats that supports a wide array of aquatic species.  About one-half of the entire state's shrimp production comes from the Sound and its tributaries.  The two most commonly harvested shrimp species in our area are the brown shrimp and the white shrimp, with the brown shrimp moving through the Sound in July and August, and the white shrimp following in September and October.  

So a hankering for steamed shrimp made me round up the boys and head on down to Engelhard.  A short 20 minute drive had us at the docks of Williams Seafood, the place we go every summer for mounds and mounds of beautiful fresh shrimp just off the boat, and today was no exception.

You have to feel great when you pull up somewhere for fresh seafood and this is the first thing that you see.  It can't get any better than this, unless you were actually eating them on the boats fresh out of the nets!  An assembly line efficiently hauled the precious cargo onto the dock, where they were placed into buckets of fresh, icy water, rinsed and drained.

From there, they were transferred to the sorting tables, where a quick-fingered crew de-headed and sorted the icy shrimp.  Cole and Greyson watched the entire operation with rapt attention, and when I asked them what they thought of what they were seeing, Greyson said that he "bet everyone sure had some cold fingers."  I would have to agree with him there!

We left Williams Seafood with 10 pounds of beautiful shrimp and great big smiles on our faces.  As I loaded up the boys for the ride home, I told them that I had "fun, fun, FUN!"  and Cole said, "Mom, why do you sound excited like a little kid?"  I told him that it was because I knew how good those shrimp were going to taste for dinner tonight, but that was only half of the truth.  The whole truth is that I love this!  I love driving around Hyde County and discovering all of these wonderful places to buy fresh, local foods.  To me, there is nothing better than knowing exactly where my food comes from, and if I can't grow it or raise it on my own, then the next best thing is buying it from my neighbors and their local farms and businesses.  Doing this not only gives me the peace of mind of knowing that I am feeding my family the freshest, best food I possibly can, but it also helps support the place that I now call home and those that have made their living off of this land and these waters for generations.  I am doing the right thing for the environment, for my family, and for my community, and that is what what brings the smile to my face and makes me "excited like a little kid!" 

I remember when we told some of our friends and acquaintances that we were moving to Hyde County.  "Just for the weekends, right?" was the general response.  No, we would say, for good.  "Really?" would always come their incredulous response.  "Well, what's there?"  No, we had no family there, and we didn't know many people, but none of that mattered to us.  This place spoke to us - this flat land of verdant fields, wet woods, cypress fringes, and waving golden marshlands.  This place where I see more black bears walking edges of the roads than I see passing cars.  This place where the Tundra swans sing you to sleep on late November nights.  This place where my boys roam wild and free, faces sporting sticky brown Lake mud, warm blackberry juice, and careless smiles. Just like the Robert Frost poem from which Hyde County adopted its slogan, we  too took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.

I want to thank those of you who spend your precious time reading my thoughts and ramblings, and please feel free to drop me a line in the comments section.  I would love to hear from you!

Mattamuskeet Momma is Open for Business

Today was a big day for the Mattamuskeet Momma venture.  We were visited by Sherry Batot, a Food Regulatory Specialist with the North Carolina Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services.  Ms. Batot performed a thorough Home Processor Inspection, which consisted of checking my kitchen and pantry for many things, including cleanliness, dedicated business spaces for processing equipment and finished products, water supply, proper refrigeration, adequate and safe lighting, and proper facilities in the adjacent bathrooms.  She also approved my product labels, and was a great source of information, help, and advice.  The boys and I had spent the last two days organizing, re-organizing, and cleaning the kitchen.  Not that the kitchen wasn't clean, mind you, but we wanted to make sure it was extra sparkling clean for the inspector's visit!  I have never seen the boys so dedicated to helping me clean something.   When Ms. Batot took a look at my Lazy Susan Tupperware cabinet, Greyson proudly exclaimed that he had organized it all by himself, which is no mean feat, as this is the cabinet that Eli hits on a daily basis.  In about one minute, Eli can turn a perfectly organized cabinet into a landslide of plastic containers, strewing lids hither and yon from one end of the house to the other.  After so many episodes of this, I must admit that I had taken to tossing the containers back into the cabinet in undignified heaps and shoving it closed with my foot.  Greyson definitely earned his chocolate ice cream reward this afternoon!

What all of this means is that Mattamuskeet Momma is a North Carolina approved home processor for breads, preserves, jams and jellies, and that we can now sell our products.  The boys were so excited, they wanted to jump in the car and go to the Farmer's Market right now!  I had to tell them that the Belhaven market wasn't open today, and more importantly, we didn't have any preserves to sell yet!  So Cole declared that tomorrow morning first thing we would venture into town and get our supplies, go back home, and get busy making jam.  What kind of mother would I be to not agree with such enthusiasm from a six year entrepreneur?  Speaking of enterprises, the boys' pumpkin patch is coming along beautifully, the plants already almost to Cole's waist.  The sturdy vines are already sending out runners and are studded with male blossoms that have yet to open.  A few female blossoms are starting to emerge, their bases already swollen with the promise of new pumpkins.  A recent severe thunderstorm took its toll on two of our young plants, snapping them off cleanly at the base, while the rest remained, luckily, unscathed.

Our first order of business tomorrow upon returning home will be to transform some beautiful Hyde County blueberries into blueberry jam.  Stumbling across Carawan's Blueberries in Swan Quarter was an unexpected delight.  All last year, off and on, I had asked anyone and everyone if they could tell me where the nearest place to pick blueberries were.  I got a few recommendations to try Grassy Ridge, the predominantly Mennonite area of Hyde County that I visited for some amazing strawberries about two years ago.  I loaded up the boys in the van and we ventured out that way, hoping to come across a sign along our journey.  As we passed peaceful farms and neat homesteads, along with the Rose Acre Egg Farm, we were hopeful that we would spot a homemade sign offering you-pick blueberries.  Unfortunately neither the boys, with their faces smashed intently against the windows, nor I happened upon a blueberry farm, so I continued on to Plymouth to pick up some things at the local Piggly Wiggly.  As we pulled out of the parking lot on our way home, I happened to see a little sign at the stoplight declaring "Carawan's Blueberries - We Pick, U Pick" with a phone number.  I pulled into the nearest parking lot and dialed the number, only to find out that Carawan's was about fifteen minutes from my house on the other side of the lake.  Only in my world do you have to drive an hour in the opposite direction to find out that what you were looking for was right down the street from home! 

We crossed the Lake Road and went east along 264 until we passed Mattamuskeet Seafood.  That's when we spotted the small, hand-lettered sign proclaiming simply "Blueberries" and pointing towards a dirt path skirting a corn field.  We drove down the path and entered a clearing that the boys breathlessly declared as "heaven."  Row after row of head and shoulder high blueberry bushes loaded with their deep indigo bounty greeted us.  A small farm shed sported an old-fashioned basket scale, with the instructions to weigh our berries and place our money in the tin.  We wasted no time, an armed with old plastic ice cream buckets, we commenced to picking.  

This was my first time picking blueberries at a farm.  I was used to picking my own berries at home from my knee-high spindly plants, and was usually ecstatic when I came away with a handful (which was then promptly eaten by one of the boys before I could make it into the house).  We arrived at the field at 7;15, and I told the boys that the goal was to pick 10 pounds before the sun went down.  We picked and picked some more, the boys surreptitiously shoving berries into their mouths whenever they thought I wasn't looking, though their moans of delight gave them away every time.  Eli had no such qualms about hiding his berry eating from me, and promptly discarded the bucket in favor of the two-handed pick and shove-into-his-mouth method.

After the sun went down, we began to get nervous about achieving our 10 pound goal before dark. The boys asked if we were going to stay out here picking blueberries all night, and I urged them into double-time.  Finally, we thought we might have enough and made our way to the scale.  Our three buckets, and my estimation of what was residing in Eli's belly, came up to ten pounds, and we put our twenty dollars into the tin  and headed for home.  Cole asked "how come we didn't know about that place before," and I told him all that mattered was that we did now!  I know that it sounds silly to say that our evening picking blueberries was one of the best ones that we have had since moving to Hyde County, but it's true.  We laughed, made up blueberry picking songs, and had a contest to see who could pick the most.  The boys couldn't stop talking - no one fought, no one cried, and Eli was content to roam, pick, and eat, settling down in the soft grass between bushes to rest in between blueberry binges.  The boys said it must be Heaven the minute they stepped out of the van, and in a way, I think maybe they were right.  

Beautiful, Bountiful Beans

The warmth of mid-June marks the beginning of the time of plenty within gardens and fields, and Hyde County is no exception. Over the last two weeks, I have harvested pickling cucumbers, bell peppers, banana peppers, red potatoes, yellow summer squash, zucchini, strawberries, and peaches. The first blush has colored my Roma tomatoes, and cherry tomatoes are ripening by the juicy handful. The blackberries are slowly working their way from red to deep purple, tempting and jewel-like among gently bending branches. The Mattamuskeet Momma house has been a busy one, with cooking, eating, and preserving our bounty to last us the year long, and according to the boys, nothing is more fun than snap beans.


I do not plant snap beans in my garden for a couple of reasons. One is that to produce the amount of beans that my family can go through in one year will take more garden space than I am willing to dedicate to it at this point. Believe me, I tried with my first garden. I thought that I had planted more than enough green beans for dinners and the freezer and ended up scavenging through my bush beans to find enough for the pot that night! The main reason, however, is that Hyde County farmers do a splendid job of growing acres and acres of beautiful green beans just a few miles from my house. The arrival of the yellow bean-picker machines signify the time is at hand, and the rumble of eighteen-wheelers down the road, open trailers piled high with tender pods rallies me to load up the boys and head to Mattamuskeet Fresh Produce. A packer and shipper of Hyde County local produce, Mattamuskeet Fresh Produce handles a variety of vegetables, including cabbages, cucumbers, sweet corn, zucchini, squash, and of course, beans. My first year here, my Fairfield ladies in-the-know sent me down the road to purchase my first crate of snap beans, and I have been hooked ever since. The quality is always superb, the sorting is almost amazingly perfect, and the beans are delicious. This year, armed with my camera, my brood and I descended upon the packing plant. The owners welcomed us warmly and showed us the process from bean truck to bean crate.

The proud owners of Mattamuskeet Fresh Produce!

The beans leave the trucks and enter the tumbler.

The trucks pull around back, where the trailers loaded to the brim with just-picked beans are dumped into the tumbler.  From the tumbler, the beans are then sent along conveyor belts to the sorters, a group of diligent workers that remove any beans that aren't up to quality standards.  From there, the beans are ferried by additional belts into icy water for "hydro-cooling".  This removes the heat from the fields, and ensures the beans stay fresh, plump, and perfectly delicious.  The beans are then packed in crates and placed into waiting trucks.  The process is a short one, extremely efficient, and is a great way to buy local beans, most of which are harvested from fields only a few miles in each direction from the plant.  The boys love coming here to "see the machines" and I love coming home with top quality produce that had been picked from the fields maybe a half and hour before I arrived.  

The beans are sorted by hand to ensure the best quality.

The beans are cooled, packed, and sent on their way!

  These beans came home with me, and for the bargain price of  $30, I took home two crates which equals about 60 pounds of beans.  At a cost of only 50 cents a pound, I will have a freezer full of beans for countless side dishes, soups, stews, and casseroles until June comes around once more.  Of course, produce prices change frequently, so you can always call ahead to find out the prices that day, but I would pay a higher price with no hesitation for these plump pods of crunchy goodness.  The best part of all of this is that I am helping to support local Hyde County farmers and businesses, something that I believe is key to learning how to live sustainably.  It if doesn't come from our own gardens, then the next best thing that we can do is purchase produce from our local farms or businesses.  With a little research, anyone can find great local food options without having to resort to purchasing supermarket produce that has traveled across the country, has spent days (if not longer) in transport from field to table, and contributes negatively to the health of our environment.  Now that the boys and the beans are all loaded up in the mini-van, a short mile and a half drive sees us at home and ready to begin the fun!

The boys and I start an assembly line to get our beans ready for the freezer. Of course the question arises of "why freeze instead of can?" , and my answer to that boils down to personal preference and canning abilities. Beans, being a vegetable and low acid, require a pressure canner for safe home preservation, something that I do not have any experience with to date. Some of my older lady friends tell me that they have processed beans in boiling water canners for years with no negative side effects, but in my way of thinking, botulism only takes one mistake. To start on the assembly line, we decide who will be "snippers" and who will be "snappers". I remember my mom's hands flying through a bowl of beans - snap off the ends, snap in the middle, and done. I like to use a pair of kitchen shears to snip off the ends as the "snipper" and I then toss the whole bean in a pile in front of my "snapper" who breaks the bean in half and puts them in the bowl. The snapper is the best job for the youngest child, as directing them to break off the ends can result in too little or way too much being broken off the beans. Because the snipping takes longer than the snapping, it works best to have two on snipping. Cole volunteered for snip duty with me this year, and we quickly loaded up a pile of beans in front of Greyson.

Eli did a little of everything - snapping, eating, throwing beans all over the porch, loading up the beans on the back of his toy trucks . . . In this day and age, people tend to reminisce about sitting on their grandmother's porch and snapping beans or shelling peas. There is something about a warm early summer day spent on a shady porch with your family all together working towards common purpose of putting fresh food aside for the winter. It is timeless, and I suppose if you ask 9 out of 10 mothers today if their children would help them snap a bushel or two of beans, the answer would be a resounding no. But I think, in a lot of cases, we sell our children short. If we, acting as parents, take the initiative to turn off the television and video games and say, "this is what we are going to do today, because I love you and I want to make sure that you eat healthy food," then we can start a critical dialogue with our children. I love my boys, and they are no different than other boys their age in terms of interests and energy. The difference is that we constantly talk about food - what is good for you and what isn't, where our food comes from, and why it is better for us and the world around us to grow our own food and eat locally and seasonally. At six and four, Cole and Greyson understand this and make observations and decisions of their own. At 20 months, Eli knows that fresh food looks better and tastes better. He will often be too full for dinner, as he frequently roams my gardens in the late afternoon, cheeks full as a squirrel with ripe berries or crunchy sweet peppers. It is up to us to take our role as parents seriously and lay the groundwork for our children to develop responsibility for their health, as well as for the health of the world in which they live.

Even Daddy gets into the act!

After the beans are all snipped and snapped, I get them ready for the freezer. The beans need to be blanched in boiling water for three minutes and then place in an ice bath to stop the cooking process, in order to ensure crisp, flavorful beans all winter. I use my huge canning pot, and shuttle beans bake and forth from pot to the ice bath set up in my big farmhouse sink. When the beans are blanched just right, they will turn an impossibly brilliant shade of green, glowing with the light that nature bestows upon fresh young grass or new leaves.

I let the beans drain in a large colander and then I place them into freezer bags.  When all was said and done, I had 12 gallon bags of snaps for the freezer, a large pot simmering on the stove for dinner, and some great memories to share for years to come.  Not bad for a day's worth of work.   For as long as I can remember, my mom always made a big pot of snap beans for us to feed off of for a few days, and this is the same recipe that I prepare for my family.  In the bottom of a large pot, I sautee about 6 strips of turkey bacon, diced into small pieces, until it is crisp and fragrant (in my mom's recipe it was ham, or country ham, or some type of smoked pork).  I add the beans to the pot and put in enough water to cover them.  I add salt, pepper, 3-4 cloves of fresh crushed garlic (yes, that's my garlic), five or six diced chopped new potatoes (yes, those are my potatoes - I know, I know, I am way too excited about my garden this year!), and let simmer all together until your desired firmness of beans is obtained (anywhere from half and hour on up).  It is simple, delicious, filling, and so good for you!

My mom's famous snaps and new potatoes - yum!

Of course, some members in the family may prefer their snap beans raw, but who I am to argue with taste?

The Love Found in Gardens

A few days ago, I paid a visit to Betty Carawan, my neighbor and friend. Her husband, Bill, had recently passed away.  Betty and Bill were among the first people to welcome us wholeheartedly to Hyde County, and I treasure every visit with them.  Bill was a kind and gentle man, and always ready to talk gardening with me.  He and Betty would stop by and admire my rookie gardening, and he would swear that I had the greenest thumb in the world.  I loved to keep them supplied with my harvest, especially the cantaloupes and watermelons, just for the pleasure of  hearing Bill tell me they were the best he had ever eaten.  They would generously share their plums and apples with me, and I would see the two of them working in their own expansive garden  companionably side by side, whenever I would pass their way.  As Bill's health began to decline, the garden got smaller and I would see him outside less and less, though I always felt blessed to catch a glimpse of him seated on his walker, looking out almost reverently over grass, garden, orchard, and field.  Betty told me that this spring he still talked about the garden, so she went out and planted a handful of tomatoes, peppers,cucumbers, and okra.  His health became so bad that he never got a chance to go outside and see it, but it brought him comfort to know it was there.  As I passed the little garden on my way home, I thought of the love she had put into that garden, and no elaborate memorial or headstone in the world could rival the perfect beautiful simplicity of those neat little rows.  I can imagine that no tomatoes anywhere will taste as sweet as those that Betty planted for Bill.

Last night, I was among hundreds saying goodbye to my husband's cousin, John Lane, Jr.  John was a Gates County farmer, by trade, heart, and soul.  He was also one of gentlest and kindest men that I had ever had the pleasure of knowing, and he had the unique ability to make everyone feel good just for his presence.  He welcomed me into the large and tightly knit Lane family with open arms.  I had never experienced the love and closeness of an expanded family such as theirs, and he would never fail to put me at ease at gatherings with his quiet smile, kind blue eyes, and wonderful stories.   When Cole was just learning how to walk, he would gaze upon John with his head tilted all the way back and in danger of tipping over on unsure toddler legs.  His eyes would grow round when John scooped him up and carried him around, as if he were at the top of the world.  John was 45, and there are no words to explain the unfairness of his being taken away so young and leaving behind this beautiful family who must now figure out where to go from here.  As we drove up the lane to John and Kellie's house, I saw the corn standing tall in the fields that he had planted, along with thousands of other acres of crops across Gates County.  I looked around at these wonderful people as they cried, hugged, and grieved together, and the love for this wonderful man was something so strong that you could almost touch it, breathe it in, and wrap it around you.  He touched so many people in such an intricate, expansive network akin to the roots of the crops that he so carefully tended.  John is there, and will always be - from the sandy soil, to green leaves of the young peanuts stretching out in endless rows, and to the sun, sky, and rain that watch over and nourish us all.  

A few weeks ago, I took a handful of peanuts that had been a gift from the Lane's last Thanksgiving.  The bulk had been used to feed my boys, from snacks to homemade peanut butter, but there were a few left over.  I thought I would experiment to see if my Hyde County soil could grow peanuts, so I carefully planted two rows and waited.  This morning I walked along my rows and saw the strong, young plants recently emerged, brilliant green leaflets waving in the wind.  These plants come from the peanuts that John had harvested, grown from the peanut seeds that he had planted.  With a little luck, I will harvest these peanuts this Fall.  My boys will grow, nourished on homemade peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and I will save some of those peanuts for the next year.  Even in Hyde County, John's touch will be here, and I will tell my oldest son that our peanuts come from another oldest of three brothers, one who loved the land and one who loved his family, and one we were all lucky enough to have known.

I can't help but wonder, as I walk between my rows this gray morning, when it is that my last garden will be planted.  None of us can ever know when our time here is done, but, if I had a choice, it would be some late June day well after the season's planting is done and the jars of the spring's strawberry preserves fill the cupboard.   When all that is left is for the plants to grow healthy and strong,  I will ask for the rains and gentle sun to fall upon my garden so that my family can pick basket upon basket.  With each slice of tomato or crisp bite of pepper, I will be there, grown vibrant and alive from the love that I planted for them along with each precious seed.  The immortality bestowed upon us by love is, indeed, a miraculous thing.

   

Lessons from the Garden

Gardening with my boys is a constant learning experience, and even as a former science teacher, I am in awe of the constant and varied lessons you can glean from the garden.  On any given day you can teach a biology lesson, perform an agricultural science demonstration, or execute a chemistry experiment.  The garden as a whole is a constant inspiration for environmental science and sustainability curricula, instilling an Aldo Leopold land ethic in even the youngest children.  Sharing our bounty with our neighbors and those less fortunate in our community imparts compassion, generosity, and social responsibility. And now, in a small way, the garden and our hard work will become a lesson in entrepreneurism and financial management.  After a long talk with Cole and Greyson, we have decided to  lay the groundwork to sell some of the fruits of our labor at the local farmers market, and maybe even our own roadside stand.  That's right, Mattamuskeet Momma is on its way to becoming a reality!

With a long summer stretching out ahead of us, and faced with the inevitable outcome of the boys getting on each others' nerves and then escalating into an all-out brawl, we discussed the need to have a focused "job" for the summer.  They have just come to understand the value of money, and furiously stash away any dollars they earn like industrious squirrels.  As it was a little late in the planting season to plant enough excess vegetables for regular trips to the Farmer's Markets, we decided this year we would start with pumpkins.  We studied the seed catalogs and decided  upon Connecticut Field Pumpkins, Lumina White Pumpkins, and Rouge Vif d'Etampes French Heirloom Pumpkins for our budding venture.  I told the boys that these were their pumpkins, and as such, they had full responsibility for their production (with me as the on-call consultant, of course).  We would have to prepare the beds, plant the seeds, weed and water as necessary, and if we were lucky enough, harvest and sell our pumpkins in the Fall.  If they hold up their end of the bargain, all of the profits will be theirs.  Cole and Greyson solemnly agreed to this venture, and we began clearing the new pumpkin beds. 

For those of you who may doubt if your children are old enough to help you with serious efforts in the garden, you will be amazed at what they want to do after a little time spent watching and instructing.  Cole begged me to run the tiller, and after explaining all of its working parts to him and walking behind him with my hands on the throttle for a few passes, he was more than ready to finish the rest of the pumpkin bed.  Though he is barely taller than the tiller itself, he did an amazing job, and the ground was fluffy, soft, and ready for our pumpkin seeds.  The old tiller in the picture is my Dad's old Craftsman, the one that I wrote about in a previous post that I thought had moved on to the big garden in the sky.  A friend of ours offered to work on the old gal, and he brought her back to me the next day, all smiles.  One pull of the start cord had the tiller purring like I had never witnessed before, and I stood dumbfounded at its resurrection.  He said the carburetor was beyond repair, but she still had some life left in her and to take advantage of it while it lasted.  It was a great moment for me to teach my oldest son how to till up the earth to plant a garden on the same machine that my father taught me.   Life, growth, death, and the birth of new generations - there is no better teacher than the garden on the cycles, continuity, and wonder of life.

So, the boys have tilled, hilled, and planted their pumpkin patch, and now await the imminent rains to awaken our seeds.  We have a long summer of weeding ahead of us, and I am sure at times their enthusiasm will wax and wane.  But this garden, and this life, is all one continuous experiment in which we constantly make our observations, analyze our outputs, and try, try again.  The garden also shows me the nature of my boys' personalities in the little ways that they go about their work.  Cole could till the garden all day without tiring, but threw the seeds in their hills haphazardly, with a unconcerned pat or two.  Greyson placed each seed in its individual spot with the precision of surgeon, and covered them up just as carefully.  Eli ran to each hill and patted the dirt on top of each one saying "There.  There." and clapped his hands after he was done.  Will our pumpkins make it through the summer?  We will have any to harvest?  Will anyone even want to buy our pumpkins?  Who knows.  But we are together, with our hands in the soil and working towards a common purpose.  That is the profit that I get to collect from our pumpkin patch.

And as for me, I have worked to develop our Mattamuskeet Momma Preserves and Natural Products business plan, and have submitted it, with my application, labels, and recipes to the North Carolina Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services.  We will have a home kitchen inspection soon, and if all goes well, Mattamuskeet Momma preserves and breads will be available along side of our pumpkins!  The idea behind Mattamuskeet Momma products is that the food that we feed our children and ourselves should be pure, local, and grown through sustainable practices that preserve our local ecosystems.  Again, who knows where this venture will take me, but if anything, the garden has taught me that you never know unless you try.

Of Garlic, Garden Pests, and Companion Plantings

This year was my first attempt at growing garlic.   I use my fair share of garlic, don't get me wrong, but for me, I really just liked the idea of growing garlic.  Maybe it was the vision of beautiful garlic braids hanging in my pantry (Oh, yes, lovely isn't it?  That's my garlic, you know . . .), but, regardless the motivation,  in November I broke a spare garlic head into 13 cloves and planted them, pointy side up, into my raised beds.  I wasn't sure what the outcome was going to be, but I was rewarded in February with green shoots coming up in the garden.  Last week, the majority of the leaves had started to turn brown, so I deemed it time to dig the garlic.  Thirteen beautiful heads of garlic were the reward of my very little efforts.  I have them spread out in the garden shed now, drying and curing where the air circulation is good, and when they are dry I will attempt my very first garlic braid.  Stay tuned!  I plan to expand my efforts this Fall and try some different varieties, like Elephant Garlic, but as far as experiments go, you can't beat paying 50 cents at the grocery store for one head of garlic and having it produce 13 more!

I was also interested in incorporating garlic as a natural pest repellant in the garden.  I had been doing some research on companion plantings, where certain combinations of vegetables, herbs, and flowers are grown together to provide natural insect and disease resistance.  (A great older article on this idea can be found here from the Mother Earth News archives) Garlic is cited over and over again concerning its effectiveness against mosquitoes and other insects.  Another article stated that the smell of growing garlic would even deter garden pests of the mammalian persuasion away from garden beds.  Unfortunately the squirrels and opossums in my yard missed that particular article, and as such, scampered frequently through my garlic bed and into the neighboring strawberries.  However, I still the believe that the idea is an incredibly beneficial one to incorporate into gardening plans, if even just for the idea of separating your plantings to reduce the impact of pests of a particular crop.  

This idea can be very important when dealing with pests such as the squash vine borer.  Anyone who has ever grown squash knows the heartbreak of seeing your plants wither and die seemingly out of nowhere.  A little investigation yields the grainy entrance wounds along the base of the plant stems, the sure-fire indicator that the vine borer larva is hungrily at work.  Attempts to cut into the stems, kill the borers and save the plants are a crapshoot at best, and there is no greater frustration than losing an entire pumpkin plant well before its time because of an invasion.  The vine borer adults are a type of seslid moth, though they resemble wasps with their scarlet legs and buzzy movements.  They are easy to spot in the garden, and a little regular patrolling will let you know when they have arrived.  Because the adults are attracted to the color yellow, yellow bowls filled with water work as borer traps and will help alert you to their presence, though by no means will it catch them all before eggs are laid and the damage is done.  Instead of the big blocks of summer squash that I usually grow in the garden, this year I interspersed my plantings with rows of carrots and butternut squash, a naturally borer-resistant squash due to its solid stem.  This made it much easier to spot the adults, which I promptly smashed on every leaf that I caught them lolling about on.  Not only is the method effective for reducing populations, but it is extremely personally satisfying for anyone with a vine borer vendetta.  It is the second week of June and all of my plants are healthy and borer-free to date, though I am still vigilant.  I'm not sure what effect the carrots may have had on my healthy squash so far, but I am enjoying my harvest.  An old article that I recently came across recommends borage, marigold, nasturtium, and oregano as allies to deter squash bugs, which is something that I will try next year. 

I will also be incorporating the idea of companion planting if I decide to plant another spring crop of broccoli next year.  If you read my earlier post, you remember my cabbage worm encounters.  I have read that mint, thyme, and tansy deter cabbage worms and moths, so I will experiment with those combinations to see if they bear fruit (and not worms).  Now if anyone has any suggestions for effective companion plantings to ward off opossums, I am all ears . .  .

Worry not, animal lovers, this guy and four of his friends (so far) were humanely relocated to a big block of swampy woods a few miles away where they can roam to their hearts content and leave my strawberries in peace!  I know that some of you out there may not agree with my methods, but when it comes to choosing between that little guy and this little one on who gets the strawberries . . .

Eli will win every time!

A Fruitful Morning

Eli and I were busy picking strawberries from our little patch this morning.  Well, I was busy picking and Eli was busy eating!  After getting only a handful or two last year, the strawberries have outdone themselves this season.   I had an early harvest at the end of April,  and after shortcakes, pies, fruit salads, and 6 half-pint jars of preserves, I thought I had a pretty good spring.  Then three weeks ago, the strawberry plants were once again filled with drifts of white blossoms, cheery yellow centers echoing the late spring sunshine.  Each of these blossoms transformed into hard, green fruits which, with sun, plentiful rain, and non-stop squirrel patrol, became this morning's lush, ruby-bright bounty.

Nothing says happiness quite like a baby with a strawberry in each hand and juice dribbling down his chin!  I planted a mixture of ever-bearing and June-bearing strawberries, hoping to get a heavy crop for preserves in the early spring and handfuls to munch on through out the summer.  Quinault and Ozark Beauty are my two ever-bearing varieties, and  All-Star and Festival are the June-bearers, though I picked strawberries from every single one of my plants this morning.  The bulk of my plants are bedded on black plastic, and I have found that this is the best way to keep weeds down, keep the berries relatively dirt and bug-free, and keep the shallow root systems of the plants moist and warm.  Strawberries are members of the Rosaceae, or Rose, Farmily, and the Genus Fragaria, derived from the Latin word for "fragrant."  After an hour spent among the plants, enclosed in the heady aroma of sun-warmed berries so ripe that the merest touch stains fingers red with juicy syrup, I can think of no more fitting a name.

The strawberry is a unique plant, in that the parent plant sends out "daughter" plants on runners.  The runners feed the daughter plants until the roots come in contact with the soil and the new plant is established.  You can allow the daughter plants to establish on their own if your strawberries are bedded in the soil without plastic.  Last year I snipped off the daughter plants that branched out in all directions across my plastic and relocated them to a raised bed, where I now have an additional two row of plants which all contributed to this morning's harvest.  Strawberries are among the easiest and most-rewarding plants to grow, and I recommend even the novice gardener to try a few plants.  Great information for growing strawberries can be found at http://strawberryplants.org and many other gardening sites.  

For me, I am now off to make more strawberry preserves!  The boys (including my husband) have reduced my 6 half-pints to 2, so thank goodness the strawberries saw fit to produce again!  Making strawberry preserves is simple, and all you have to remember is the"rule of 2" - 2 cups of strawberries, 2 cups of sugar, and 2 teaspoons of lemon juice.  Cook the mixture slowly, stirring frequently over medium to low heat until it begins to coat the spoon.  The preserves take on an impossibly deep garnet shine when they are just ready.  You can then process your preserves in a hot water bath for 10 minutes and you're done.  Done, that is, until the boys raid the cupboard again!