I am in a harvesting war with some critter or multiples thereof. One day I have succulent beans needing just a touch more sun-filled nutrients to go from too small to just right which then disappear, leaves and all, with only bare stems remaining. For years we grew our beans vertically in a true square foot gardening technique but they always seemed to develop a late summer rust as our garden has just barely enough but not quite enough sun plus the added inconvenience of growing so tall so as to be out of my five-foot, five-inch reach. Several years ago we reverted to bush beans and, while taking more room in our six – four foot by four foot raised bed squares, they have always produced. And, this year too, we have produce it is just that something is beating me to our crisp haricots verts, despite the fence.
Summer gardening versus neighborhood fauna – the war continues. We may have to revert to trellises.
When you grow up the daughter and the granddaughter of carpenters, you appreciate trees and the lumber they provide. Fond memories of tagging along to Kleiner’s Lumberyard while Dad handpicked boards to be planed accompanied by harsh noise without benefit of ear protection in those days long before OSHA required safety and the sweet smell of sawdust or sweltering summer days spent planting trees at The 40 – trees that have grown from seedlings as small as my hand to stately pines.
As BeckyB of Winchester’s Square Challenge moves into week three of TreeSquare, I wondered what photos I might have of these natural wonders, these organic composites of cellulose fibers which have graced our planet for more than 375 million years. It turns out – not too many but enough to cover a year of seasons.
The beauty and the bane of summer bounty are the kitchen hours required to transform a morning’s abundance into delicious treats. On blue sky, temperature-perfect days just made for hours of pleasure on my screened porch knitting the 4-Day Fireworks KAL sweater, I joined the women of ages past toiling in summer kitchens. Admittedly, my experience was far more pleasant as my work time was spent in air conditioned comfort with good tunes coming from surround sound. Some of the tasty delights will be eaten immediately and some will be stashed in our small deep freeze to be enjoyed on frigid winter days as a talisman against the cold and a sunny reminder that spring will come, even in the North Country.
My Sunday & Monday garden-to-kitchen yield:
Blueberry Sour Cream Muffins – two dozen regular-sized and 24 minis using a recipe shared by Betty D. from Older Mommy Still Yummy
As I prepped this morning’s basil harvest for the second batch of summer pesto, I smiled and remembered the first time I had this savory concoction. It was summer 1977. I was in library school and a friend who was in town for a library association meeting had offered to treat this poor grad student to dinner. We met at Helen C. White Hall, wandered over to Memorial Union, spent time on the Terrace before strolling up one side of State Street and then back. Reaching the small second floor storefront Italian restaurant where we had dinner required trudging up narrow wooden stairs. (This was long before ADA required accessibility. It was a restaurant Dad hated when I took him there not because of the food but because he worried about exits – or the lack thereof. But that’s another story.)
My friend was quite excited with the chef’s pasta du jour which featured fresh pesto on tortellini. I had no idea what pesto was but as I did not want to appear anything less than sophisticated, I ordered the same entrée. I remember my surprise when I was served a dish far more green than pasta white; heavy on the garlic. For this first sampling, it was a good there was a nice red wine accompanying our meal.
Despite growing up with big vegetable gardens at my house and my grandparents, basil and garlic were simply not things we grew. From my narrow culinary perspective at the time, basil and garlic were dried herbs from McCormick; used infrequently, mostly just for Aunt Thelma’s spaghetti sauce. But now, basil graces pots just outside the back door for quick access and grows in the tomato squares as a companion plant. While we do not have garlic growing this summer, we have harvested splendid crops in years past. With a nod to food writer Beth Dooley and author of our well used The Northern Heartland Kitchen cookbook, we will fully enjoy this batch of savory almond basil pesto. Bon appétit!
Inspired by Suleika Jaouad, I started Knit+ Librarian as a Covid survival technique early into our worldwide pandemic quarantine hoping to capture random thoughts and images. Over the past year and a month, I never gave any thought to what might happen as topics cycled back through my life. I knew the Knitting and Reading blog posts would stay fresh as there would always be a just-knit sweater or shawl to describe or a new favorite book to review. But with today’s first picking of blueberries even while reveling in their dusty blue hues, I realized there may be some repetition in the Baking and Gardening categories whether I am describing the last rhubarb crisp of the summer or this season’s blueberries.
There is a simple beauty in the natural cycles each following one after another, season by season which especially deserve our appreciation in this northern clime where we go from warm days of verdant greens to frigid, frosty whites and grays and back again. And, I am certainly in good blogging company, as Christina Campbell on The Healthy Knitter shares monthly posts about each full moon and Solène Le Roux at Knit Pause leads meditative knitting retreats focused on nature. As I celebrate the ebb and flow of the seasons in our garden sans any exotic varieties and filled with plants I can only describe by their common names without knowledge of scientific nomenclature, I will simply enjoy “playing in the dirt” and you may see a similar but never identical new post or photo.
A restless night spent worrying about my first public overnight outing proved needless as the two-day excursion with The Directors was as fun filled as expected. As the last member of the group to travel so far as to necessitate a motel room, I was also the last to indulge in restaurant dining. While I did make that first brave step on tax day, this trip required my second restaurant experience. My friends were exceedingly gentle as I ventured (still somewhat timidly) into our formerly masked, now vaccinated world. As we wove through the green farmland of east central Minnesota and western Wisconsin, there were stops along the way for wine tasting and shopping, and while this later activity is usually not a high priority for me the company made the day enjoyable.
I attribute my lack of shopping enthusiasm to a career move to Georgia just after grad school. My next door neighbor was also a northern transplant, a cataloging librarian from Michigan, and she loved to shop. Faced with unexpected resistance to implementing what I considered standard library operations like offering storytimes for the public rather than only by appointment, I took solace from workplace challenges by joining her at the mall. (Remember when window-shopping under one roof in a temperature control environment was a new, novel experience?) When we moved after 18 months on the job, she to Augusta and me to Peoria, I had two maxed out credit cards. And, while that debt was paid off years ago, there is still a residual caution when considering what I want versus what I need. Although, on this trip, I was less hesitant at the bookstore and the two wineries as evidenced by the assorted vintages and the stack of new books that filled the boot.
Also on this trip, The Directors (my library loving, book reading, wine drinking group of retired friends) initiated a new but to-be-repeated practice of secret book gifting. We each brought 1-2 recently read titles, wrapped to hide any clue as to content other than to know we were exchanging books. After tours of the Shades of Green Garden and delicious home-prepared meals our hostess initiated a quick game of “I am thinking of a number between 1 and 100…” and we picked our surprises. Each book will guarantee good reading for the weeks ahead, as well as a promise to exchange these gently used reads next time we meet.
Easy to grow, nasturtiums provide vibrant color all summer with the added treat of edible leaves and blossoms which bring culinary diversity to simple salads. They have been a staple in our vegetable garden for years plus they are beneficial companion plants for our raised-bed tomatoes.
This spring, I was overzealous and planted an entire seed package with a thought to experiment with drying leaves and blooms for winter flavorings. But, alas, unlike the fertile yield of previous years, the 44 seeds produced only five plants which we are carefully tending with a hope to enjoy the peppery flavor by summer’s end.
Our new Federal holiday honors the emancipation of enslaved people in the United States – a celebratory reminder that all are … “created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
While Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation became the law of the land on January 1, 1863, that land was in the midst of Civil War. It was not until June 19, 1865 (two months after Lee’s surrender at the Appomattox Court House) and the arrival of Union troops in Galveston Bay that thousands of enslaved people in Texas were freed by executive order. Whether called Jubilee Day or Emancipation Day, Juneteenth commemorates the end of slavery and celebrates a second American Independence Day.
Last night Trevor Noah thanked his viewers for keeping him sane and promised he was “…going to take a bit of time to figure out what the new show is going to be.” While a summer hiatus to regroup after 15-months of producing the tightly written, fact-based comedy news program from his New York apartment makes sense, the show-ending Moment of Zen felt deeper than just the conclusion to seeing his colorful collection of hoodies four nights a week.
One of the joys of regional library work, in the days before GoToMeeting or Zoom, was the need to travel, not just in the 11-southeastern counties of Minnesota to visit libraries but all through the state to participate in meetings. During all those decades of windshield time, my listening preference and primary news source was Minnesota Public Radio. And, I paired the unbiased, well researched radio broadcasts with the satirical comedy offered by The Daily Show. While dubbing itself a fake news program, its comedy bits were always laced with poignant reality. We watched through the Jon Stewart era (1999-2015); easily made the transition to Trevor Noah as host, and certainly relied on Trevor’s unique perspective during the uncertainty of COVID and troubling racial times. The Daily Show is a mainstay of our TV viewing.
Even though it has been five years since The Nightly Show aired, I still miss Larry Wilmore acting as my on air guide to a confusing array of topics that may be common knowledge to any number of People of Color but are foreign to me as a middle-aged, financially comfortable white woman of privilege. I definitely need The Daily Show and Full Frontal with Samantha Bee as reality checks, albeit with humor, today and into the future. Just like waiting for the next publication from a bestselling author or holiday release of a favorite movie, we’ll have to wait patiently until September 13 to see what Trevor might offer with a “brand new look”