Summer Garden

I always feel sad when it comes time to say goodbye to summer. Living in Minnesota we don't get a sufficient dose of heat to make me grateful for the cooler weather when it arrives. Yes, there is much to look forward to in fall. And with the stunning blaze of reds, oranges and yellows coloring my world this past week I am finally greeting her with open arms. But first, one last look back at summer before we are fully immersed in the celebrations and birthdays that fall brings for our family.

We harvested 46 heads of garlic this year. I'll go right ahead and declare that a raging success. Undoubtedly, garlic was our biggest triumph of the season. And no matter what else happened in the garden this year I feel a sense of accomplishment when, in need of a few cloves for dinner, I go down to fetch a head from the hefty bagful in our basement. 

The blue jade was just as cute and child-size perfect as last year . Still we only got one ear per stem of corn - quite a bit of real estate for not much return. I'm considering growing full size stalks next year, though I may not be able to resist those little blue ears staring at me from their seed packets come spring.

This cookbook, which is as much art as it is a compendium of veggie recipes, offered a delicious way to use my green zebras and late broccoli crop. We grew many tomatoes this year - 13 plants in all - including old favorites and some new varieties like gold medal, which was true to its description as one of the sweetest tomatoes I've ever eaten. Again our crop suffered from a fungus. The tomatoes are picking up their roots and relocating to a new bed next year. More sun, more heat. 

I was right about those peppers. Decidedly not habaneros. We concluded they were probably yellow wax peppers or banana peppers. I found a nice recipe to combine them with our neighbors' cucumbers that arrived en masse mid season and enjoyed them grilled with potatoes and other veggies. But I realized I am lacking in ideas for what to do with an onslaught of peppers. Ideas?

After a slow start I was pretty thrilled to have eggplants, which we devoured grilled with salt roasted tomatoes and ricotta, another recipe found in Vegetable Literacy. The kale has been abundant this year and grows stronger and sweeter with the cooling air. We grew dragon's tongue and yellow wax beans, bell peppers, a couple types of basil, carrots, raspberries, pumpkins and tomatillos that sprawled dramatically across their raised bed. We even harvested one single precious apple from our tree (the rest didn't make it or were snatched by the sneaky snacky squirrels) which we dipped in honey for a Rosh Hashana treat.

Among the vegetables we often spotted a resident fairy in rain boots who flitted around collecting berries, baby carrots, jack-be-little pumpkins and chamomile flowers for gnomie, who lives by a tiny pond among the zinnias. 

All in all, this was a successful year for the garden. And one that brought many changes for future growing seasons. Our neighbors erected the fence pictured above along the back of our yard. Two trees on the perimeter were removed to make way for the fence, extending the sunlight on our garden through the afternoon and increasing our growing space. Next year we will be able to expand into the other half of the back of our yard - having that much blank space to work with is mind boggling. I am grateful for the fall and winter months during which we will dream about this future garden before we dig in and start planting all over again next spring.

Pizza Night at Two Pony Gardens

As we begin our fourth year here in Minnesota we have nestled into a familiar rhythm of traditions that demarcate the passage of time, the seasons, and move us along the year. Our annual visit to Two Pony Gardens has taken on that significance for me -- it has become more than just a place we enjoy, but reminds me of our growth here in Minnesota, where we were when we arrived and how far we have come in the years since then. Things have changed there, as things inevitably do. But, to me at least, the essence is of what makes Two Pony Gardens special and unique is still there.

Bigger crowds at Two Pony necessitate more horse power. This year Mickey and Pete were joined by Abby and Sven. I was lucky to get a spot behind the coachman on our wagon ride. He held four reigns in his hands sandwiched between different fingers and try as I might to understand the logic of how he shifted them from finger to finger, hand to hand it seemed like a complex puzzle to me. I was in awe. The four horses led us through a trail in the woods around the property. I was reminded of Little House in the Big Woods and wondered what it must have been like to travel everywhere by horse drawn carriage along roads just like the one we traveled on. Bumpy. That's how it must have been.

Another new addition to the Two Pony experience was a puppet show by Open Eye Theater. Not exaggerating, this was one of the best puppet shows I have ever seen. The puppeteers performed The Amazing Cow Boat, which was part of their driveway tour this summer. They tour around performing four different puppet shows in peoples' backyards, front yards, parks and driveways all spring and summer long. We are still singing the catchy refrain around our house -- "part cow, part boat, part…ama-a-zing."

And then, of course, there is the garden...

Mostly dahlias of all shapes and hues with a smattering of echinacea, joe pye weed, tansy, anemone and many other lovelies towering in rows that beg you to run and hide among the colors.

And the long-awaited pizza...

We've learned that patience is of the essence when it comes to dinner at Two Pony Gardens. It is slow food after all. After 3 years of visits we've finally got our system down and brought just enough snacks to tie us over until finally the pizza arrived fresh from the oven. Undoubtedly, the hours of anticipation only make it more delicious.

Isn't this the thing about undiscovered gems -- pretty much the moment they are discovered they lose some of their "geminess." Once the word got out about how lovely and unique and secluded and delicious and quirky Two Pony Garden pizza nights are, they became busier, more expensive, more structured and populated by what felt like a less community-oriented crowd. But does success necessarily imply ultimate corruption? Change is inevitable, but I think Two Pony Gardens is trying to retain the essence of what makes it so magical. And as far as I'm concerned we will continue to return.

In this last picture Eli is sitting in the back of the horse-drawn sleigh that Mickey and Pete take out over snow covered trails in the winter time. I imagine throwing the Minnesota winter and cold into the mix will rekindle some of the essence of Two Pony that may be sacrificed when the crowds descend on summertime pizza nights. A quieter, more intimate escape to the woods with creative people who cherish the Earth and appreciate locally sourced, delicious food. What do you say we meet up there in January, okay?

Spring Sugar

It's that time of year again. Spring is shy. Such a tease. With plenty of snow and ice still on the ground and temperatures that make your fingertips ache, it is easy to dismiss the fact that it is indeed spring. I try not to think about it too much, otherwise spring becomes a roller coaster of alternating hope and disappointment for me every year. But really, there is no denying it; the signs are all around us and becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. Those birds are singing with fervor. Patches of earth peek up from between mounds of snow here and there. There's an occasional drip drip of ice melting from the roof. The squirrels are noticeably friskier. And there's this:

We had a slow start to sugaring season this year. The local maple syruping festivals came and went without any sap to show. Things have been a bit start and stop. But we've already collected a fair amount of sap from a couple good days and conditions are looking favorable for the next week.

Last year was our first year making syrup. And it was such a good syruping year that our syrup lasted through half a year of alternating pancake and waffle Saturday morning breakfasts. We have two box elder trees tapped in our yard. A third that is supposedly a box elder never produced much last year. We're giving it one more try. The box elder is a species of maple and its syrup is similar but distinct from traditional maple syrup. Undeniably yummy. From what I understand, the box elder is not typically a 'desirable' tree in landscaping. But the sweet sap they offer us so generously makes them among the most treasured trees in our yard. 

Here's to appreciating the undeniable signs of spring even as winter persists with its blizzards and frigidness. And hoping for another bountiful (but maybe a tad shorter than last year!) syruping season. 

Blue Jade

We grew corn! Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. Yet, it seems every time I grow something I have never grown before there is some element, however indiscernible, of disbelief that resides in the back of my mind. Perhaps this is my defense mechanism against disappointment - if I don't really believe it will grow then I won't be disappointed when it doesn't. I felt similarly when we grew garlic last year. And yet, there we were last night grilling chicken, shucking some corn from the farmer's market when I thought I might run up to the garden and shuck one of our own ears, just to see how they were coming along. The silks are beginning to brown and dry up - a sign, I've read, that the corn is just about ripe. 

I plucked the biggest ear (which is still a cute little thing since this heirloom sweet corn is a dwarf variety) pulled back the husk and revealed a perfect - really, perfect - ear of Blue Jade corn. Nary a kernel underdeveloped or marred by the nibbles of bird or worm. Truly a most perfect little ear. 

I threw this first little ear in with the rest of our corn so we could see how it tastes. Again, I wasn't overly hopeful - I've heard that those of us who are used to contemporary sweet corns are not as fond of the heirloom sweet corn varieties, as they are simply not as sweet as we've selected them to be these days. But disappointed we certainly were not. Sweet, juicy, crisp and just the right size for little hands to grasp. 

I was intrigued by Blue Jade with its promise of sweet steel blue kernels that turn jade blue upon boiling. At only three to four feet high, it seemed the perfect corn to grow in Ava's fairy garden - I've aimed to plant varieties that she and Eli can easily appreciate at or near eye level. And being a fast grower, Blue Jade seemed a good choice for our short Minnesota growing season (my little euphemism for 'you call this summer?').

The kernels were not as blue as I expected them to be, though I have read of others having the same experience with Blue Jade corn. Apparently they become bluer as the corn continues to ripen; though some say the corn grows less sweet as it completes its journey to bluedom. So now we have a bit of a dilemma: which do we value more, sweetness or the novelty of blueness? I suspect as we gradually pick and eat the corn over the next week or so, we will get our share of both. 

We look forward to the feast of corn ahead of us! And I'll try to snap some photos if those kernels do indeed turn blue as promised.

Winter Warm

Last winter in Minnesota failed to impress us with its lack of snow and any significant cold. I was beginning to think Minnesotans merely exaggerate when recalling their chilly winters. After recent weeks of bundling the kids in layer upon layer of down and wool before leaving the house, when my fingers start to burn after being without gloves for only as long as it takes to buckle a car seat, when the air is so dry my knuckles crack and my breathes leaves my lips without a trace in the cold, cold air, when our trusty Subaru whines at me as I coax it to start, when I finally look at the thermometer and it matter-of-factly stares back at me with a -8 degrees Fahrenheit - well, I get it. 

I remember thinking, on a day the temperature got down to around -20 degrees, that I'd better go outside and feel what -20 feels like. I mean, I've always lived in climates with cold winters. Michigan winter is nothing to scoff at. But -20 degrees, nope, I've never experienced that kind of cold before. After a quick jaunt outside I decided that once it gets cold - I mean really cold - it doesn't actually feel much colder than when it's just plain cold. But here's the difference - any bit of exposed skin almost immediately starts to scream in protest and you feel a sharp, deep burn. This cold is no joke, my friends. 

I realized how cold it has been when the temperature hit 16 degrees and it actually felt warm outside. I know this sounds ridiculous - really, if I had read this a year ago I would have thought I was being downright silly. But after a string of temps below zero, 16 actually feels pretty comfy. Yesterday it hit 30. Downright balmy. Minnesotans are a hardy folk. I suppose Minnesota winters will do that to you.

In all this frigidness, I have been extra careful about keeping the little appendages in the household warm. I decided they needed to have a extra layer on the bottom - that regular pants and jeans just don't do the trick. Since wearing snow pants all the time is not a convenient option (especially when I'm the one having to put them on and take them off those squirmy bodies multiple times a day), I made a couple versions of Dana's Basic Kid Pants lined with comfy extra layers for added warmth. For these I used a grey corduroy lined with yummy warm fleece. I added some pockets - cause you know how kids love their pockets. Dana offers instructions for lining the basic pants here, and for adding two kinds of pockets here. So comfy and warm.

Glancing at the forecast I see that temperatures may climb into the mid 30s this weekend. I imagine that will feel just like spring. And not a moment too soon, as I find myself already dreaming of those warm summer days when getting out of the house means nothing more than opening the back door and stepping right outside - free of sweaters, coats, hats, boots, mittens, scarves and all the rest of the winter paraphernalia piled high in our entryway like the mounds of snow that lounge around our stoop. Winter, I love you. But I feel a song of spring stirring deep inside me. She will come soon enough.

Wood Lake

It has been a busy, glorious end of the year for us - as I imagine it has been for you. Holidays, family visits, a certain girl turning 3 - I know we've all heard it countless times, but isn't it still shocking how fast it all flies by - and all that this time of year entails. We have been full. And while this is undoubtedly one of my most cherished and anticipated times of year, I admit there are moments when feeling overwhelmed by it all makes me wonder when it will conclude. 

Among the fullness and celebration we have also enjoyed Will's longest break from work since before Ava was born. We have settled into a nice family rhythm over this delicious retreat of ours. Even as Monday brings us back into our more normal routine, we know that the celebrations will continue. Our little boy stands taller each day reminding us that his days of babyhood will soon, too, be cherished memories. And as we begin this new year, we are aware that even our idea of normalcy will be challenged and shifted as we dig our heels deep into the search for our family home. Perhaps as I find my way back to my normal daily rhythm - and take my seat here in front of this screen more - I will post a round-up of the holiday whirlwind of making, visiting and baking. But today we just enjoy our final moments of family break together.

Today we just walked.

Apple Picking

As summer heat cools and our gardens start to wither, we begin our gradual contraction into the cooler seasons. The return to school and acceleration in our schedules that this time of year brings help shift us out of the daze of summer as we embrace fall. For our family, in which birthdays and anniversaries begin in October and continue monthly through the onset of spring, fall is a time when holidays and celebration begin again after a long spring and summer lull. Beyond these once-a-year celebrations, there are the more regular shifts in what we do, how we live, how we dress, that reflect and remind us of where we are in the year. Traditions add meaning and color to our days, helping us orient within this cycle of seasons, of time.

One tradition that helps me really register the shift to autumn is our trip to the apple orchard. As the weather cools, I start to feel it. Yes, it is almost time to go picking. I check the calendar and reminisce about our previous year's trip. Who came with us? What kind of apples did we pick? What did we do with our harvest? How long did it last? Because if there is anything more autumnal than apples (there isn't), then at the very least those amazing golds, reds and oranges that color the drive to the orchard will fill you to the brim with the feeling that, yes, it is finally fall.

We were so lucky last year to happen upon Sweetland Orchard when searching for a place to pick apples in our new state. It is the antithesis to corn mazing, petting zooing, hay riding, inflatable castle jumping apple orchards - a pastoral retreat. A professor at a local college and her husband, a chemist, moved out here and bought an orchard where they raise their young daughter, dog and chickens. They keep it simple and lovely. Come. Wander through the orchard. Pick apples. Have a picnic among the trees. Take home some cider (apparently the best in Minnesota), and super yummy donuts. And have a good year until we see you next time.

This year Minnesota's apple crop had a pretty rough time. With a frost following warm temperatures in early spring, much of the crop was lost. Mike, one of the owners of Sweetland Orchard, estimated that they had lost 90 percent of their crop. But we had no trouble finding what we desired - apples, certainly, but more than that. Our yearly tradition. Our official step into fall. And we will be reminded daily, as we eat our way through our harvest, of Ava's grin as she picked the first apples off the tree herself, of Eli's first taste of apple, of the warm sun as we picnicked among the trees - for I know that warmth is fleeting, and I will be hard pressed to remember it in just a month or so from now.