I can see spring in the distance—there are still feet of snow in the woods, but the sun is September strong, and it won’t be long before down in the valley someone is planting lettuce… More
From before the first frost until after the salad greens had finally poked their heads above the warming soil, most of my food for seven months came from within a couple dozen miles of my house. More
Truth be told, my 11-year-old daughter has used the words icky and disgusting on several occasions, always in connection with root vegetables. Not potatoes, not carrots—but turnips, and parsnips, and rutabagas. It is a little hard to imagine how people got through winter on the contents of their root cellars alone.
Which is why I’m glad for the Ziplocs full of raspberries and blueberries my wife froze in the summer. And why… More
This summer my neice and I were caught mid-swing at the scything workshop our Farmer’s Union Local 316 hosted at the Frontenac plowing match. We were blown away by the skill shown by handlers and horses alike as the huge beasts fairy-stepped between sod lines, neither stumbling nor crushing the lines. When it came to our turn to try a farm skill we found in scything an art form which requires energy and precision to accomplish. Although the blade is sharp (and gets sharpened every 10 paces or so), our greatest fear was a cut to our pride, not shins!