My mother cared for the enormous garden behind our house in Fredonia, N.D. She spent hours tending those vegetables, and a strawberry patch of about the same size next to it.
One year, to ward off the robins, my dad sat on the back steps and shot the first bird taking advantage of the red ripe berries. He must have critically wounded it, because it cried. The end of that plan as my dad, hard-nosed German that he was, said he couldn’t kill any more robins.
We never thought of planting a scarecrow.
I believe that I was hired for my job as the state’s first Local Foods Marketing Specialist because I said, “Without that garden, we would have starved to death.”
Mom foraged, canned, grew, and served whatever she could get her hands on in the summer months in anticipation of snowy winter days. One of our favorite summer bedtime snacks included slices of ripe tomatoes sprinkled with a little sugar. After all, tomatoes are a fruit.
But, for anyone who gardens, this time of year is the best. The time to harvest the fruits of our labor. It’s an awesome experience to “shop” in the garden for your daily bread.
Never mind the competition amongst gardeners who picked the first green bean, or ripened tomato.
Last week, I made some soup stock (AKA bone broth to the younger generation) from grass-fed beef gifted to me from Tara Dukart of Seek First Ranch near Hazen. To that, I added my garlic, onions, beets, potatoes, and cabbage to make borscht. I never thought to check the carrots; I could have found enough of those to add as well. I used the organic ones in my refrigerator to “make do.”
Oh, and don’t forget the wee bit of dill weed to make it an old family recipe even if there is no recipe.
Then there’s the zucchini. I have been picking them small and making things like cheese zucchini soup and fruit bars. The next recipe will be zucchini corn chowder with some canned corn. As you know, sweet corn season is right around the corner, and I can put up more for the winter.
The excessive rains of late have caused my cabbage to split. I put up a five-gallon crock of kraut because one cannot waste good garden vegetables. I should have anticipated this. I planted them early, watered them, and then it rained and rained and rained. Not that I mind the rain, but I am sorely disappointed at the fate of all those young heads.
I remember my mom stepping down the outside leaves of her cabbage. Guess what? That decreased the amount of water sucked up to the tender young leaves and prevents this from happening. Too late now.
It’s all good. Gardeners learn early on to be flexible. You cannot count on Mother Nature providing what you want when you want. It’s on her terms. We’ll take them. It is time for eatin’ as much fresh garden produce as possible — the rewards of being a gardener.
Then, there’s the Zinnias. I plant a 90-foot row every year with seed from my Aunt LaVerna. I decided this year to cut as many flowers as possible and load my house with colorful blooms to celebrate.
What am I celebrating? My CT scan on Monday shows “NO EVIDENCE OF METASTATIC DISEASE.”
Who says God doesn’t answer prayers?
INDYchildrendotme 
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