Preparing for the Heat

Whenever I'm away from blogging for a significant length of time I find it difficult to re-engage.  Generally this is due to the number of things that have taken place since my last entry that I think people would find interesting or at least entertaining.  I am continually overwhelmed with material.

I also feel some self-generated, frustrating, suffocating pressure to write a novel once I've returned to the world of blogdom.  Whether this is due to a supposed need to properly update what few readers I may have out there who actually give a flip or perhaps some form of self-imposed penance, I do not know.  What I do know is that I find myself puzzling over this blog for a number of days before jumping back in.

So, here I is again.  Puzzled, overwhelmed with material, and ravaged by guilt.

A crazy amount of things have taken place since May.  I can not and will not attempt to cover them all.  Suffice it to say that it is nice to again enter a season of breathing in and out.

The weather this year has been a rollercoaster ride of high heat and humidity for a few days and then down to clear, cool, near fall-like days, leading back up to the heat and humidity.  We're moving back up the track again today, leading to a peak tomorrow of 95 degrees F, and very high humidity.  In short, a typically unpredictable Wisconsin summer.

We got rid of our window air conditioners two years ago.  We have survived up to this point by opening the windows up at night to cool down the house, and then shutting everything up in the morning to retain what cool air we were able to lure in.  It works remarkably well for the most part.  However, 95 degree days brutally test my resolve.

One of our reasons for doing away with the A/C was the realization that we became lumps in the house on hot summer days.  The coolness of the air conditioners, the soothing hum they create, and the darkness created by the window shades make perfect, though artificial, napping weather.  Once prodded (either by guilt or a disgruntled spouse) to go out the door and actually get something done, the sudden blast of furnace-like air would send me whimpering back into our cool sanctuary in search of mercy and understanding.

We have discovered our productivity has increased dramatically since leaving the window units in storage.  As an added benefit, our summer electricity bills have decreased dramatically as well.

You learn rather quickly to properly prepare when extreme heat is forecasted and you live without A/C.  Pasta salads are made and stored in the refrigerator.  Bread and lunch meats are inventoried and resupplied if necessary.  Lectures are repeated to little ears (and not so little ears) about the need for keeping doors shut, unnecessary lights off, eating foods that are either cold or microwavable, showers to be taken at night and then only after parental approval, and bedroom fans blowing out during the day and blowing in at night.

Outdoor work is done in the cool of the morning or after the sun goes down.  This morning I weeded, mulched and watered some of the remaining tomato plants that I transplanted from their seed trays last evening.  These plants were the "replacements" for anything that did not make it in the garden thus far.  Fortunately most our original tomato plants survived the move to their permanent beds, leaving us with many extras.

I have about a dozen more plants to go which will find a home in the remaining open raised bed.  I would have liked to have transplanted them this morning, but after soaking through my second T-shirt, I decided to call it a morning and headed for shade.  Besides, plants respond better to transplanting when it is done in the evening rather than in the hot, mid-day sun.

The big garden related mystery this year is our sweet corn.  More specifically, the lack thereof.  I tilled a large area behind the barn in early May.  It's nice and flat with plenty of sunlight and well fertilized soil.  Lisa put in a few rows and later the kids and I planted about a dozen more (each approximately 20 feet long).  I've yet to find anything growing but weeds and a single stalk in the area that Lisa had planted.

The seeds were not leftovers from previous years, but purchased this spring  We planted well after the last frost and have had plenty of rain to soak the seeds.  Still, nothing.

I considered the possibility of raccoons digging up the seeds as there are plenty of coons around here and they are crazy about corn.  Yet there isn't even a hint of any soil having been disturbed.  Even if some had been dug up, the odds of losing every one of them are astronomical.  Further still, they've discovered our grain bags in the machine shed and have had loads of fun feasting on grain.

We also have plenty of rabbits.  I nearly ran over some bunnies while mowing to clear the area and  unearthed their nest.  But again, the odds of them getting all the plants are unlikely and even if they had there's usually some sort of evidence such as partially chewed stalks.

And so the mystery continues...

Feasting on Fiddleheads

It's  cold and rainy on the farm today.  While the weather has put a damper on my outdoor plans for the day, it does allow a little time to catch up on my posts.  While I feel increasing pressure to get all of the planting done in gardens right now, it is rather nice to exhale and reflect on the recent whirlwind of activity.

Things have been extremely busy around the farm with all of the spring rituals of tilling, planting, building, repairing, pruning and enjoying the change of seasons.  For some reason this past winter seemed particularly long and hard to me.  I can't ever remember longing for spring as much as I did this year.

Our oldest daughter, Katherine, will be graduating from high school this upcoming weekend.  The big graduation party scheduled for the middle of next month is also requiring activity and a critical eye when looking about the place.  All of the, "Fix It," and, "ASAP," and, "Honey Do," lists have melted into one overwhelming (and at times discouraging) enormous list of tasks that have reached critical mass.  My procrastination tendencies have been humiliatingly exposed once again and the success or failure of Katherine's party hangs in the balance.

It's amazing to me how perspective can change so dramatically.  The piles of lumber and tools and benches in need of repair and the camper in need of a new camper aren't really an eyesore to me.  They are symbols of my ambition, my handiness, and my industry.  However, being mechanically-challenged, a procrastinator by nature, and overconfident in my own"fix-er-upper" abilities, these symbols tend to sit for a long time.  A VERY long time.

But then something like a graduation party comes along and my perspective immediately changes.  Suddenly I am seeing things the way I think my relatives may see things.  And I am embarrassed for me.

In this condition my two-year debate about which type of hinge will be the right one for the garden shed door comes to an abrupt end.  The second guessing is no longer as important as the fact that my brothers-in-law are coming out to the farm and the garden shed is still doorless.  They wouldn't say anything about it, of course.  They are too nice to do that.  But I'll know that each of them will be shamefully shaking their heads on the inside, feeling pity for me and sorrow for their sister.

I can have none of that.  I must not allow my manhood to be questioned by them or anyone else.  My male ego needs to remain firmly intact.  I must be seen as a, "Man's man," an "Everyday Joe."  Especially since I sometimes write about cooking.  And not just cooking but sometimes even cooking with flowers.  And I haven't mentioned this before, but I like interior decorating too.  Drives Lisa nuts.

So projects have been slowly but steadily removed from my lists.  I have found new motivation to overcome my fear-of-failure for anything requiring a saw or a hammer or a drill.  As each task is completed I have experienced the added benefit of sticking out my chest and showing my handiwork to my lovely bride.  "Yeah, baby, I did that.  Built that thing from scratch.  Even cut down a tree and made the lumber myself.  It was hard work, but I got 'er done.  Guess I'm still a stud-muffin, eh?"

Despite the fever-pitched activity around here, I have still found time to forage for spring-time goodies.  The fiddleheads that I gathered were delicious and a hit at our dinner table.  They also worked well with my overloaded schedule as the prep time was about as minimal as it gets.

Our patch of Ostrich fern behind the house.  The area allotted to this delicacy will be increased dramatically next year.

The most time consuming aspect of preparing fiddleheads is cleaning off the brown debris from last season's crop.  I rinsed them in a colander but then cleaned each individually under running water.

I melted a couple tablespoons of butter and added a drizzle of olive oil to a pan.  After it was heated I threw in the fiddleheads and added sea salt, fresh ground pepper, and a little onion powder and let them saute away.  When they were fully cooked I set them in a dish and sprinkled some wood violets over them.  While not really adding anything to the taste of the fiddleheads, they did help make a rather nice presentation.  Besides, if you're going to eat fern, you might as well eat flowers too.

Much like the morel mushrooms on Hillsong Farm, my only complaint about fiddleheads is that there aren't enough of them.

Scenes of the Season

 

These are Nanking cherry bush blossoms that are located along our garage and near our gardens.  Always loaded with beautiful flowers this time of year, the bushes buzz from the hundreds of honeybees and other insects that stop by for lunch.  The berries are quite small (smaller than a grape) and quite sour.  Still, the kids try to eat some off the bush every year.  Lisa made a batch of Nanking cherry wine a few years ago.  I'm hoping to use them for jam this year.

Lisa's tulips survived yet another Wisconsin winter.  Some seem to have slowly disappeared, but this group does well every year.

These little yellow flowers are all over our southern-facing slopes in the spring.  I'm not sure what they are.  They look a little bit like Cowslip but the leaves are different, the petals are thinner, and they are not located in a marsh.  Whatever they are, I look forward to seeing them each spring.

Wood violets are everywhere this time of year.  They not only carpet the woods and hillsides in purple each spring but they are also quite edible.  Most people use them in salads or to garnish everything from roasts to birthday cakes.  I thought I'd try using them to top off the fiddlehead/stinging nettle soup that I plan to make next week.

You know, I occasionally write stuff that flows out from me quite naturally and sometime afterward I look at it and go, "Oh mama, what's happening to me?!"  It's like having a sudden identity crisis.  It's like waking up in some foreign land and wondering how you got there.  It's like that sudden jolt of terror that strikes you when you finally let go of all denial and surrender to the fact that you are about to throw up.  I just had that experience once again as I re-read the previous couple of paragraphs.

This is the view from the southern-facing slope where I took the wildflower photos.  I tried planting about a dozen grape vines on this slope seven years ago, but only two have survived.  Too bad, I always thought this slope would make a beautiful vineyard.

Nathan is filling in one of the raised bed frames that I built recently (and Addison and Grace painted... exterior only).  This one is for russet potatoes, which Lisa planted as soon as Nathan was finished.

And these are fiddleheads.  The four of these, located closest to our foundation wall, popped up before all of the others due to the warmth provided by the wall.  It's easy to tell from this photo how they got their name.  I resisted harvesting them, preferring to wait until there's enough for a meal.

Weekend Activities

This past weekend was a busy one on the farm.  The weather turned out to be far better than what had been predicted, enabling us the opportunity to knock a few things off our very large, "To Do..." list.  I also found time to sneak away to search for a few morel mushrooms.  Sadly, I did not come across a single one.

I did find that our fiddleheads are about ready to be plucked.  Fiddleheads are the early spring shoots of the Ostrich fern.  Last year Lisa discovered that they are edible.  While rather skeptical at first, I tried a couple that she had sautéed in butter.  They were incredible!  They actually reminded me of the rich, earthy taste of morels.  The ones in the above photo are conveniently located just outside our back porch door.

They were named because of their shape, which looks very much like the tuning end of a violin when they are ready to be harvested.  While other types of ferns produce similar looking shoots, it's important to pluck only those belonging to the Ostrich variety as they are the only ones that are edible.

I found most of my time consumed with building a couple of raised bed frames for the garden and preparing an antique door that will be installed on our garden shed.  Lisa spent much of her time in her flower bed, while closely watched by our two dogs, Stella and Dugal.

Nathan spent much of Saturday putting together our newest wheelbarrow.  I have found that you can never have too many of them.  The same can be said of shovels and landscape rakes.  It seems to me that I have bought a dozen of each since we moved out here nearly nine years ago.  I would be fortunate to locate three of each around the place if I had to. 

It never ceases to amaze me how things can disappear and yet our four kids are quite certain that they had absolutely nothing to do with the vanishing garden tools.  They also profess their innocence relating to the numerous disappearances of my hammers and screwdrivers.  It all remains a great mystery.

Despite the ongoing vanishing tool saga, good progress has been made this spring.  We haven't completed nearly the number of projects that I was hoping to at this point in the year, but overall things are shaping up.  I find myself cautiously optimistic that we might actually put a good-sized dent in our annual food bill this year with the fruits and vegetables that we will be able to grow ourselves.

Morel Mushroom Season is Here

It’s the time of year when the first morel mushrooms start popping up through the ground.  Every year, when the very short morel-hunting season is over, I run across ads for kits that enable you to grow morels in your back yard.  Every year, because I’m hungry for more morels than we were able to harvest, I’m tempted to send for one of those kits.

I have always resisted because the ads seem cheesy and too good to be true.  They remind me of those old ads for Sea Monkeys or X-Ray glasses (okay, I bought a pair of those, and no, they didn’t work) that I’d find in the back of my comic books when I was a kid.

I don’t know anyone who has purchased one of those kits and have been successful.  If you are out there, I’d love to hear from you.  I did, however, run across a little blurb at Mother Earth News that actually makes sense and gives me a little bit of hope.  The following is a snippet:

“Submerge a batch of morels in a pan of water with a plate on top and place the pan in the refrigerator. After a few hours, take the pan to your back yard (or other "secret spot") and pour the water around a tree. The idea is that the soaking water now contains tiny morel spores. Twice after having done this, I had yellow morels grow in my suburban yard, miles from the woods.”

      “Letters,” Mother Earth News, June/July 2003 issue

I don’t quite understand the “yellow” morels, but maybe that’s the color of morels in Indiana, where the writer is from.  Perhaps he lives in a suburb of Gary.  I think I’ll stick with the grey and brown one’s here in Wisconsin.

I’ll be trying this technique this year.  I normally soak my morels in saltwater overnight to kill the bugs.  I don't know what saltwater might do to spores so I've decided to soak them in water first, drain the water in a good spot, and then re-soak in saltwater for a few more hours.  Unfortunately it will be a year before I can report on the results.