How ‘doing it all’ feels, & the first garden offerings.

Growing up, gardens were put in tilled black soil, planted in orderly rows with zinnias, marigolds, and tiger lilies planted nearby. That was about the extent of my exposure to seasonal growing. Don’t get me wrong – many of the gardens in my family were massive and produced a ton of food, but they were primarily functional and necessary, not so much creative and visually artistic. Obviously there are very strong reasons for this, and I can hardly ever go a summer day without feeling complete in awe for what the ladies in my family did, when they had to, while raising children, caring for dairy cows, and without the modern conveniences I am most definitely blessed with.

I do remember a handful of great aunties or cousins, and some neighbours and community members who were more adventurous with perennial and flower gardens, but I didn’t care enough at the time to notice what they were planting. I do remember pictures in my mind however, of how it looked… beautiful. That stayed with me.

And so when I finally started truly gardening, growing my own plants from seed, and casting vision on the blueprint of my cottage and portager gardens, it happend all at once and with a lot of acceleration. I tended towards a style much opposite of what I had seen growing up, which is neither here nor there, but where I landed really seems to work for my heart, mind and soul.

With this, a caveat… I did it all.

Or at least I attempted to. All winter long, I pored over seed catalogs, mulch gardening how-to’s, and farmer’s almanac tips and tricks. I still love reading a good gardening seed catalog like a fiction novel. Thankfully however, I seem to be able to ‘let go’ more easily in my mind now that which I cannot add, manage, or figure out all at once. I don’t mind being overwhelmed by the beauty of a garden at it’s height in July, but in all other areas it’s more healthy to be underwhelmed and content.

Each year, I seem to let go of even more of the flashy cut flower in lieu of the perennial stand by. I sow green beans and salivate over the thought of the first picked steamed pods with olive oil and salt, and forgive myself when I cannot possibly put up enough frozen or canned green beans for the entire winter. I ponder if my family really enjoys eggplant as much as I enjoy growing those glossy aubergine beauties, or if it would be okay to just plant less and truly enjoy how they look on a platter on my counter.

Shhhhhh….. they eat more of them then they realize because I blanch, dice and dehydrate them for fillers in soup, stews and winter casseroles.

Anyway, I digress. The moral of the story is: I cannot possibly do it all. I would be silly to pretend to show you how to (not) do it all as well.

So instead, let’s do a little of everything that we can or desire. I will show you my process of putting up 1 pint or even 1 quart of pickles at a time, though I know it’s literally in my very recent bloodline to put up 21 quarts in a day. Let’s pick, blanch and freeze (or eat) a quart size bag of green beans, dry a few handfuls of lemon balm for a special tea later in autumn, or better yet, pick a fresh bouquet for the counter, or a friend.

From now till late August, and into September if we are blessed, the garden gives and gives. Every day, I feel so thankful to have to decide what to bring in to the house and store away. Today I focused on some dragon tongue beans (sigh…. they’re so gorgeous ), snow peas, lettuce and raspberries.

We ate all the beans for dinner, stashed the lettuce in the cold room to wash and bag tomorrow, added the raspberries to some others I have stashed for a few small jars of jam, and turned the snow peas into something I can use in winter to remind me of now.

Let me explain.

Snow peas are fresh and wonderful and lovely to snack on, but if neglected will quickly become tough and stringy. So we eat as many as we desire for lunch, and I do a more un conventional method of preservation for winter.

You might ask: why not just grow regular peas and freeze them?

I would ask back: have you ever grown enough peas to stash away in the freezer? Peas are work work work. They are like nothing you will find in the store if you put them up petite and tender, but your back (picking) and your behind (shelling) will pay for it. I love them, and loathe them.

A fair trade off for me has been preserving snow peas, tender, in this manner:

Pick the snow peas, snap off the end and any string that follows. Blanch them quickly for a few minutes and then place in a bowl of ice water to chill. Food process them to chunks and dehydrate to store in jars in the pantry. When I make a potato soup with bacon and broth, tossing in those dehydrated pea morsels will remind me of the green peas of summer and give that fresh pea flavor as well. I took the liberty of smelling the blanched peas deeply for you and can assure you they are reminiscent of the shelling pea in flavour if not in perfect texture.

With that, it’s time to put my feet up, sip iced hibiscus + lemon balm tea and check in on the family. These are glorious yet intense days and I pray we all would stay present in the moment and thankful for each one.

Until next time,

~ Sherri