The Cowardly Composter

This is my composting uniform.  Snazzy, eh?

My Mom used to diligently tuck her pants into her socks before she got into Old Yeller.

Old Yeller was a 1954 yellow Ford pick-up with his name brushed in turquoise paint across the hood.  The bench seat was lacking somewhat, but bolstered by skeins of baler twine piled high enough to cover the wire springs that were likely to catch the crotch of your pants as you exited and entered the truck.  Entering and exiting were quick because there was no door on the drivers’ side.

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I Love Tomatoes

If I were to choose one food that shines in its organic, locally grown form, the tomato would be it.  Real tomatoes – even the ones that ripen in the basement months after the first frost – mock the firm, tasteless versions available in big-box grocery stores for most of the year. Continue reading

The Garden Report

In case you’ve been wondering, I am clawing my way out from under a mountain of produce.

I should have known what would happen, being an authentic farm girl and all…

I planted a little garden at my house this year, but I planted a much bigger one at my retired parents’ farm.  I chose to put the lower-maintenance items out there, believing I would need to do some processing and picking later in the season, but not routine “tending” beyond a couple weeding trips.

I can buy into the liberty garden concept: that producing our own food from quality soil is a better choice, and it certainly is more economical if it goes well, right? Continue reading

SPRING!

In the last month I have been so thoroughly embracing spring and the outdoors that I haven’t had time to sit down and gush about it.

In April we started a wall because it was hard to see that spring was on its way.  I needed a concrete and inspiring reminder when the slushy snow was falling in gobs from the grey sky.

But now…IT IS HERE! Continue reading