{Grow Write Guild} My gardening roots

Note: This is the first in a writing prompt series call Grow Write Guild I've decided to write along with. The prompts come from Gayla Trail at You Grow Girl, one of the gardening bloggers I enjoy following. The first prompt is "write about your first plant." My story is quite loosely based on Gayla's questions, but I'm taking the word "prompt" literally. I will be using her suggestions as a means to get writing with little attention to whether my direction has anything to do with what Gayla had in mind. I'm looking forward to this writing journey through the gardening season and would be honored to have you join me.

I grew up with gardeners. When I was a baby, Mom would put me down for a nap in my crib and go work in the garden at the bottom of our backyard hill. Once I was old enough, I was down there in the garden along side her.

When I recall specific memories of that garden, they aren't particularly fond. To be honest, none of my childhood vegetable gardens conjure specifically good memories, but I am nonetheless thankful for them. And, if I don't try to zero in on any particular moment in time, the thought of my childhood gardens bring an overall warm feeling of happiness.

Our neighborhood was built in an old apple orchard, and our backyard had several too-old-for-good-fruit apple trees. It seems the steep hill from the house to the garden was always littered with half-rotten apples regardless of the time of year. Incidentally, the swing set was at the bottom of the hill, too, so it wasn't as if I could avoid that walk even if I didn't want to garden. The trees may have shaded the hill, but at the bottom it was hot and sunny -- perfect for growing zucchini the size of a small child. Next to the garden was a raspberry patch. I loved raspberries, but bees and prickers made the berries nearly undesirable.

My grandparents, who we visited frequently, had an even larger garden. Grandma tried to get me to eat the Brussels sprouts she grew, but, thankfully, no one forced me, because Mom didn't like them, either. Grandma, grew beets, too. I didn't even realize Mom didn't like beets until I was an adult. I guess, when you're a kid you just gobble up the food that's yummy and don't take much notice of what others eat.

Later, my grandparents moved from Rockland County to their "camp" in the Adirondacks, and I think the garden got even bigger. In the new garden they grew potatoes, which have given me my absolute least favorite gardening memory -- picking potato beetles. To this day, I despise beetles of all kinds, and I'm not sure I'll ever have it in me to grow potatoes. I hated picking those potato beetles, but I managed, as a preteen, to do it with pride. There we were, three generations of gardeners, walking along the rows throwing those nasty creatures into coffee cans of turpentine, so we could eat the most delicious potatoes I've ever tasted.

So, why, if my earliest memories of gardening coincide with memories of rotten apples and potatoes beetles, would I want to garden as an adult? The answer is very simple: we had fresh veggies on our table all summer long. Unlike many of my peers, I love vegetables of all kinds (Brussels sprouts remain my one exception). If you need a second reason, I got to play in the dirt a lot, and I love the smell of dirt. Perhaps most importantly, that overall warm feeling of happiness is something I long to pass on to my son.

The Lunch Box

Now that Bear eats lunch away from home three days each week, I've been putting more effort into packing lunches that a) I think are interesting and nutritious and b) I'm guessing he'll eat.

The first part of this is to not ask him what he wants. At 9:30 or 10 in the morning, he really isn't hungry for anything -- he just ate breakfast. So, at 4, it's hard for him to imagine what he might like to eat two hours into the future. 

Instead, I just pick three or four things I think might appeal to him. I just have to realize that when he brings half of it home, it's OK. (At least it's OK as long as I remember to unpack it and don't end up with cheese or eggs that have been neglected when I pack the next days lunch.) Some of his lunch items this week have been a carrot and daikon radish mix, yellow and red peppers, hummus, cucumbers, cheese cubes, and salad.

I've also decided that I'm going to occasionally sneak some things in that he's never tried before. Maybe at school, he'll give them a try. I won't go overboard, but it's worth a try. Earlier this week he got some whole grain chips and he said he loved them. Today he's getting freeze-dried raspberries. I'm not very hopefully about those, but since they're packaged in an Easter egg, maybe ...

Oh, yes, the Easter eggs! Thanks to this post on weelicious.com, I decided to pack today's lunch, the last before Easter, in plastic eggs. I know, I know, the plastic can't be good. But, considering, I generally stay away from plastic for packing lunches, I figure one day isn't going to hurt.

Here's what his lunch box looks like:

I can't wait for him to see it. I wish I could include a mini-camera so I could spy on him. 

Inside the purple egg is shredded chicken, one of his favorite foods. The other eggs have red pepper, carrots and bunny grahams as a treat. Oh, and the dried raspberries. Enjoy, buddy!

Random updates

Received in the mail today: The first, but certainly not the last, correspondence addressed to "Parent(s)/Guardian(s) of Bear Nusskern" from Queensbury Elementary School. It was our appointment for Kindergarten Roundup. Another reminder to have all sorts of fun with my boy before he gets swept into the wave of school.

In the category of difficult challenges: Getting outside every day is not so easy. But, with the exception of Tuesday, when it was pouring, we've done it every day this week. Some of those we weren't out for long. But, 20 to 30 minutes is better than not at all.



Tiny things to celebrate: My first seedlings have seen light. I planted these leek seeds at least three weeks ago. The seeds were two years old, so I was very unsure of how well they'd do. Then, I had a bit of trouble figure out how much water  I needed

in the bottom tray and everything dried out. Finally, I got enough water in there and, three days later there were the first bits of green. Now, out of about 100 seeds, I have a bit more than 20 tiny plants. It would be nothing short of a miracle if they were all to mature to full-sized leeks. We have months ahead to find out.



Lastly, in the battle with Daylight Savings Time, I win! Not only is Bear not going to bed later, but he's actually started to go to bed at a reasonable (before 9 p.m.) time. It's probably the fresh air. Maybe a little bit of it's my determination. Whatever it is, it's adding to my positive outlook.

Climbing out of the winter slump

I'm not sure exactly when this slump started, but I've been eating horribly lately. I'm so conscience of what the boy is eating, but I've been chowing down on bowls of ice cream for lunch when I think no one is watching. And, I'm constantly refilling my coffee cup to the point the caffeine no longer keeps me from falling asleep. Although, I know it's preventing me from getting the best sleep possible.

Forget about exercise. I started the winter thinking we would cross country ski and sled and build snowmen. But, when the little bit of snow we had came, I just hunkered down inside. Not only am I suffering from this, but so is the boy. He needs outdoor time and exercise more than anyone, and it's up to me to make sure he gets it.

Yesterday, we went for a family walk. It was that first beautiful March day. The kind of day when just because it is warmer than 40 and the sun is shining, people in the north country think shorts and tank tops are appropriate attire. We went to Hudson Pointe along with river in Queensbury.

It's not a long walk, and it felt great to be out. Hubby and I both felt great to be walking. Along with the dog, our legs were itchy to move briskly. Sadly, our out-of-exercise little boy was dragging his feet and asking to be carried. This is not the boy I know from the summer and fall. It may partly have to do with wearing snow boats instead of comfortable sneakers, but still ... I've got to get this boy moving.

I've got to get this mama moving. And, the papa -- he wants to move more too.

And, I've got to cut the junk food.

It starts today!!!

Bear and I will be getting outdoor exercise time EVERY day. Dan will join us when he can. Starting today, daily exercise for Bear and me will get the same priority status as getting dressed. I don't have an exact plan for the eating, but there won't be anymore ice cream for lunch and a much bigger focus on healthy snacks.

Here we go ...

An Unfair Fight or Tears in the Snack Aisle

Every parent of a child old enough to speak has been there. In the grocery store, they've turned down the wrong aisle and instantly their child spots a beloved cartoon character. The child gleefully points to their TV pal on the box filled with sugar and artificial colors.

If it's early in the day, mom (or dad) has had a good night's sleep, is amply caffeinated, and understands how unhealthy the contents of the box are, she might escape the store without caving to the child's request. But, that's not without a huge scene, kicking and screaming, and the intended grocery shopping likely incomplete, if not altogether abandoned. And, this is the best that might happen.

The story might end differently for the mom who is shopping after working all day, or (as I've experienced) the morning after working beyond midnight and still waking before 7 a.m. Despite our shopping needs, we want to enjoy a little time with our children. We want smiles, hugs and happy children. We don't have the energy for a fight. So even those of us who know better may turn a blind eye to the health risks, toss the sugar and artificial coloring in our cart, and accept our hugs.

It's really not a fair fight. The food industry knows how this scene will play out. They know that after mom and dad lose this battle over and over, the child will grow up addicted to sugary easy-to-eat food in brightly colored packages. Then, the adult will be easily swayed by advertising for grown up junk food.

The fight might not be fair, but it's not futile. I walked down said “wrong aisle” last week. Our list was less than a dozen items long, but one of them – coffee, I think – shares an aisle with the fake fruit snacks. Down on the bottom shelf my son spotted his favorite turquoise platypus and I got the request. I gave him a look followed by, “Do you think I'm going to say 'yes?' ” to which he quietly responded, “Oh, man!” and on we went.

It was a small victory. He still asked, but he knew no amount of arguing would win his case. We've been the object of many turning heads before. We've done the kicking and screaming. We've abandoned a couple shopping trips. And, yes, I've even caved a few times. But, over the past four years, I've said no – even through my haze of too little sleep and too much caffeine – enough times, he knows the answer.

Stay strong, parents! Big food is not going to give up targeting our children, but they don't have to strike. We can be the shields that keep our kids from heading down the path of obesity and diabetes. Shop the farmers market as much as you can, but when you have to head down that grocery store aisle, stay strong. Remember, when your child's pleading starts, and the heads turn, all those bystanders are your cheerleaders; most of them have been in your shoes.

Beginning again

After a long time away, I've decided to start posting here again. It's not that I all of a sudden have extra time on my hands. It's that I have things on my mind and moments of life I want to remember.

I've been writing a recipe column for the farm, which appears on the KFF blog and on the Saratoga Wire. I love writing it, but it doesn't cover nearly all the things that I want to say.

I want to write about food issues, and possibly other social issues, not related to the farm. I have recipes to share that don't necessarily highlight veggies. I want to record what's to come in my garden and other projects around the house. And, most of all, I want a place to hold the memories of raising the most wonderful boy on the planet. How did I get so lucky?

Chances are there won't be any consistency here, but I'm going to shoot for one post per week -- even if it's just a single photograph. I'd like to think each week of my life has at least one little thing worth remembering. Here are just a couple February examples.



To the left, my boy is celebrating Blue Bear's birthday. It was a snow day and he spread out a tablecloth, and passed out plates, cups and straws to all his stuffed animal friends. We even hung a banner.

Below, he's making Valentines for his classmates.

Collecting the fruits of summer

I confess, I'm a fruit hoarder.

All summer long, my mind is constantly thinking about how I can get more fruit to stock my freezer and fill my canning jars. If you live in the Northeast and you depend on what grows locally, you have to think about winter during the summer.

Thinking ahead applies to vegetables, too, but the sweetness of fruit makes its gathering and preserving much more exciting to me. Tasting summer's berries in January, is not quite like feeling the sun that was shining the day they were picked, but in the dead of winter, it might be all I've got.

Raspberries are especially adventurous and precious.

They come later in the season, and by that time, no matter how many pints of strawberries and blueberries I have stored, I'm still certain I need more berries. Raspberries are my final hope.

Thankfully, I had the opportunity to pick from the farm's berry patch this week.

I'm also thankful that the awesome crew maintains the plants in neat rows. But, no matter how well maintained the shrubs are, these berries aren't much fun to pick. You've probably encountered raspberry brambles at some point in your life -- they are full of “prickers.”

The bees don't mind the “prickers” at all as they busily pollinate. They are joined by beetles, flies and other bugs of all sizes and types. My four-year-old helper calls the bugs his friends, but I'm not a huge fan.

Determined to fill my baskets, I put the scratchy brambles and insects out of my mind and pick. It takes time to pick raspberries. Some of the ripest berries fall apart in my fingers, and occasionally drop where they'll never be found. But, I persevere, and after two hours, I have three quarts of berries.

Three quarts of amazingly, delicious raspberries! I will have jam, vinaigrette and smoothies! Every ounce of effort was worth it.

And, despite my hoarding tendencies, I might even give raspberry goodies for gifts, and share a taste of summer in the midst of winter.

Raspberry Vinegar

If you want to make raspberry vinaigrette, you first need raspberry vinegar.

• 2 cups crushed raspberries
• 2 cups white wine vinegar
• ¼ cup sugar

Place the berries in a one-quart mason jar, then fill the jar with the vinegar. Let sit for two days to two weeks.

Drain the fruit through muslin or cheesecloth, and let sit for a while – a couple of hours if you have the time. Pour the liquid into a non-reactive sauce pan, and stir in the sugar. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and let simmer for about 10 minutes. Skim off any foam. Pour into sterilized bottles and store in a cool dark place. Will store for up to a year.

Serving suggestions: Mix the vinegar with olive oil and black pepper to make a vinaigrette, pour it over ice cream, or pour it over ice and add seltzer.