The reality of farm to table

When I consider the idyllic romance that now surrounds the Farm to Table movement, I’m not sure whether to laugh or roll my eyes. Maybe both. In real life, at least this time of year, it is a frantic race against spoilage. Sometimes, as with corn, it involves marathons of blanching, freezing and/or canning. For foods that are not easily preserved, it means gorging on whatever is ripe to the point of not being able to look at it until next year. I considered it a victory when we finished the last of a giant bag of lettuce before it rotted (much). Every night when I make dinner, I contemplate how many vegetables I can serve before Terry revolts. The answer is generally one, but he will eat cucumbers in sour cream with BLTs. (I have had people ask for my recipe for cucumbers in sour cream. Here it is: Peel, deseed if necessary, and slice cucumbers; add sour cream and stir.)

The cantaloupe began to ripen about 10 days ago. Terry estimated there were 50 melons out there. It was fine at first, a melon here and a melon there. We could keep up. I fear that there will be a day when we have 40 ripe cantaloupe all at once. It’s already starting. In the last two days, I have harvested 12 cantaloupe. What do you do with 12 cantaloupe? We got rid of two when my brother, SIL, and their friend came to visit Saturday. Hilda took one. I can eat one cantaloupe in four days. When I brought the harvest in Sunday, I asked Hilda if she was ready for another melon.

“We still have some from yesterday,” she said.

“Eat faster!” I replied.

I will have to take some to work, and certainly my friends will be glad to get them. There is nothing like a vine-ripened melon. They are, however, bulky, heavy, and generally a pain to be hauling around. It will be a good work out.

Nine cantaloupe in the refrigerator

Terry called the house one morning when I was home to tell me that the five tom turkeys had met up with some hens and adolescents from this year and were walking around on the north side of the farm. I got my camera and went out to have a look. I walked slowly toward them and they walked away from me at exactly the same rate. I could only tell which ones were chicks when they were next to the adults.

The turkey chicks are only a little smaller than the adults

It’s good to know that some of them survived and are big enough to make it through the winter.  As best I could tell there were four chicks. Their heads seem to be blue.

Four chicks together. Their heads look blue.

In this photo, the chicks are on the left, and the toms are on the right. The toms are showing off their red snoods and waddles.

The toms (right) show off their snoods and wattles (in red)

The wild cucumbers are going crazy. They are native plants and seem quite aggressive. I don’t remember noticing them before I moved here. Now I see them everywhere. I suppose they have been growing all summer long, but when they send up their white spikes of flowers, they are much more visible, carpeting the trees and shrubs underneath. Unlike domestic cucumbers, the fruits have spines. They also have a fibrous interior which will persist well into next summer, looking like a small loofa. Wild cucumbers are one of summer’s last hurrahs. Autumn is definitely on the way. How sad.

Wild cucumbers signals the end of summer