When Life Gives You Cucumbers, Make Pickles

I planted one small cucumber vine thinking it would produce enough for slicing on salads this summer.  I never imagined that one vine would not only creep beyond the boundaries of the garden but would yield a superabundance of crunchy green cukes!  These past few days, I picked 20 cucumbers...far exceeding my salad needs.  What to do?  

I turn to my new best friend, Mrs. Wages for advice.  We met in the canning supply aisle at Ingles. Mrs. Wages has become my canning tutor.  The company also sells a number of canning mixes for anything from salsa to ketchup to all variations of pickles. I purchased the Kosher Dill Pickle quick process packet, a case of Ball-Kerr Mason Jars, some vinegar and a few other canning necessities, then set to work.  While they are not certified kosher (no rabbi with me in the kitchen), I now have seven quarts of dill pickles just waiting to adorn my next burger or spice up my tuna salad.

Often in life I find myself with way more than I expected or can manage.  What to do?  Complaining and whining only leave me feeling overwhelmed and full of despair.  The only answer is to make the most of what is before me with God's help.  

So, when life gives you cucumbers, make pickles!

Thinning Beets

This week I harvested beets.  Now I ponder their preparation.  I’ve tagged several recipes to try: Roasted Beet Salad, Rosy Beet and Broccoli Slaw, Pickled Beets, Farfalle with Beets, Beet Greens and Pine Nuts, Creamy Kale and Beet Salad, Beets with Swiss Chard (both the kale and chard are ready to harvest in abundance as well), and on and on.  Where to begin with these beautiful purple-red nuggets and their beautiful jade and crimson-veined greens?!?  Soon I will be enjoying this goodness from the earth; but, it came at a cost that was not only the price of the seeds. 

Being a novice gardener, I have delighted in holding each vegetable’s seeds in the palm of my hand, putting them to bed in the soil and then watching their seedlings emerge above the ground.  Each one has a personality.  The radishes peek out of the ground with leaves that look like lambs’ ears.  Carrots begin with tiny feathery fronds.  And, the beets emerge with those beautiful greens standing like flags on purple stems.  All of them hold the promise of a delicious surprise hiding just underneath the ground.  

One day I was admiring all of the green growth in my garden with my gardening coach, Kim.  We walked through the rows examining the various plants and their progress.  When we came to the row of beets, I looked on them like a proud mother watching her child grow an inch taller.  Suddenly, Kim reached down and began plucking beet plants out of the ground. I had already experienced the trauma of thinning radishes; I did not like plucking up and throwing away their tiny seedlings; it was like taking away the emerging new life. I think my gasp was audible because she began to explain why thinning the beets was so important.   Beets and radishes don’t like to be crowded. As they grow, the plants become squeezed together.  They begin to compete with one another for water and nutrients from the soil. They need space to develop and flourish.  So, it is necessary to pull out even the healthy looking sprouts to make room for the beets to bulb out.  

I’ve thought a lot about the hidden truth in thinning the beets recently; about how life sometimes needs thinning.  When the worries of life...the demands of an overcommitted schedule...the things that constantly need maintaining...the oughts and shoulds that jam my mind and my heart...when all of that begins to crowd in on me, to make me less loving, something needs thinning out.  Yes, it can be painful, especially when you have to let go of something that you thought to be significant and that you highly valued.  Although it is difficult work, I am discovering that when thinning is done with a thankful heart and trusting God to accomplish God’s good purpose in my life, the more I let go, the lighter life becomes.  I find strength in deeper rootedness and joy in expanding measure.  

Sow True Seeds Company sent me the online Fall crop planting guide today in my email.  I’ve already made note of the dates I can plant my next beet crop.  Time now, though, to savor the gift of this crop.  

One final note...I took the greens from the beets pulled during the thinning that day and sauteed them with onion and pancetta.  They were quite tasty!

Carrots Love Tomatoes

I have been doing a lot of gardening lately, but not much blogging.  In fact it has been weeks since I have written about my newest adventure.  Since my last post, many seeds have sprouted, plants have been set in the ground and many, many, many weeds have been pulled. What was once a patch of dirt is now a neighborhood of tomatoes, carrots, onions, okra, eggplant, peppers, beans, cucumbers and squash.  The corn is sprouting and the potato plants are blooming.  A diversity of vegetables has quickly emerged from the rich, brown earth.  My garden is its own little community!

I learned when I was planning out the rows of my garden that plants are like companions.  Certain plants assist each other to grow well by discouraging pests and diseases.  Likewise, some plants are antagonized by the proximity of others.  Beans benefit most everything but onions.  Eggplant and okra are supposed to promote one another’s growth, although the eggplant in my garden have been afflicted by flea beetles. Carrots love tomatoes, however cabbage and tomatoes do not get along well with one another.  In fact, tomatoes dislike peppers and corn, too!  I have read that wild plants (aka weeds) play a vital role in the community.  When I cannot spend enough time in the garden to remove them all, it helps to know that some have properties, known as green manure, that contribute to the condition of the soil.  I find it interesting that even in the plant world, diversity is marked with beauty and challenge.  

This week, as I read the Creation Story in Genesis, I am reminded that “God said, ‘Let the earth put forth vegetation: plants yielding seed, and fruit trees of every kind on earth that bear fruit with the seed in it.’  And it was so.  The earth brought forth vegetation: plants yielding seed of every kind, and trees of every kind bearing fruit with seed in it.  And God saw that it was good.”  (Genesis 1:11-12, NRSV) This summer I am privileged to watch the growing cycle and the continuation of God’s good, creative activity; the earth bringing forth vegetation from the soil in the little patch where my vegetables grow. As I tend the garden...weeding and watering, staking and mulching...when I am on my hands and knees...with the bees buzzing in my ears...I am humbled to care for God’s creation and grateful for its yield.

(Harvest Report: We have been eating the first crop of radishes for a few weeks now in salads and on sandwiches. Yesterday I harvested the arugula.  Arugula with fresh blackberries and crumbled blue cheese with a fig vinaigrette is on the menu tonight.  Tomorrow, I think it will get tossed with roasted tomatoes, garlic and pasta...)

By the Light of the Silvery Moon

A couple of weeks ago Kim called and said, “I’m cutting potatoes.  This weekend is the Full Moon.  Now is the time to plant potatoes. Meet you tomorrow morning in the garden at 7 a.m.?  Bring your own coffee.”  

Being a good rookie gardener, I listened to the sage wisdom of my coach and headed, coffee mug in hand, to the garden that early misty Friday morning.  I learned a lot that morning about growing potatoes.  The first thing I discovered is that it is hard work; back breaking work, as a matter of fact.  The traditional potato planting method involves digging ditches!  With shovel in hand, I dug about a 20 foot, six inch deep trench to bury the seed potatoes.  Potatoes can be planted whole, especially if they are small, but they are usually cut into pieces.  Because they can rot easily, the cut pieces need to be left exposed overnight in order to callus over.  Kim had a big basket full of already prepped Yukon Gold potatoes waiting to be planted.  I lined the trench with cut potatoes, the half side down with their eyes looking toward heaven before covering them with a hill of rich earth.  In a couple of hours, the potato crop was planted, just in time before the Full Moon that weekend.  The Full Moon put on quite a beautiful showing, in fact, even turning a gorgeous shade of orange-red on Saturday evening.   

Planting by the light of the Moon...who knew?  Up until now I just thought of the Moon in simple terms like one of the two great lights to mark the day and night.  Or, the verse of a nursery rhyme, “the cow jumped over the Moon;”  or the cartoon and artist depictions of the shadows that can resemble the face of “the man in the Moon.”  I watched the Apollo 11 lunar landing in 1969.  I’ve read poems about the moon and even thought at times that my husband and children “hung the Moon.”  I have vaguely known about the ocean tides and seem to recall learning about some connection between them and the Moon.  And, I’m certain if I dusted the shelves of my memory I might remember a few of the lunar cycle lessons that I was taught in my eighth grade earth science class.  I do remember creating the typical styrofoam solar system, but, apart from that I must acknowledge that I was never very good at or very interested in science in eighth grade.      

Waxing or waning?  Which is which?  It’s pretty clear to know the difference between the Full Moon and the New Moon (or the Dark Moon).  And, more importantly for gardening purposes why is it important to perform certain chores in the garden in conjunction with the phases of the moon?  Here’s a little of what I’ve learned about the Moon and why it is important to my little garden crop.  The Moon has four phases, or quarters, that last about a week each.  In the first two quarters, the Moon is waxing or increasing in light and the gravitational pull of the Moon is decreasing.  With the action of gravity lessening and the light becoming greater, this is the best time to plant vegetables with above ground growth because they put most of their growing energy above the earth.  This time is literally referred to in the Farmers’ Almanac as the period of the Light of the Moon.  Moon waning is the period after the Full Moon and up to the New Moon when the light of the moon is decreasing but the gravitational pull is increasing, drawing moisture and growing energy below the earth.  Planting root crops like potatoes to coincide with the changing gravitational pull of the moon will hopefully allow the plants to grow quicker and bigger, not to mention produce more since their growing will be in tune with the Moon’s cycle.  

The phases of the moon have guided planters for thousands of years.  Even long before Sir Isaac Newton established the laws of gravity, peoples have sought to live in rhythm and balance with creation, using the Moon as a beacon.  None of this is new, and yet it is altogether new for me, and I would like to think new with every planting season.  

I read somewhere this quote excerpted from Ute York in her book Living by the Moon:  

The old time gardeners say, ‘With the waxing of the Moon, the earth exhales...with the waning of the Moon, the earth inhales.’

I think this is such a beautiful thought; the earth somehow breathing out and breathing in with the rhythm of the light of the Moon. Our Great Creator, Ruach Elohim, the Spirit of God renewing the face of the earth even in this way.  

I don’t think I’ll look at the Moon quite the same from here on out.  

...And Sow It Begins

Today was my first day in the garden. I have spent the past few weeks reading about gardening; planning which plants I want to grow and where they will go in the garden; and, shopping for implements and seeds.  Today I got dirty.  Like an eager student on the first day of school, I packed up my supplies and headed for the freshly tilled plot that will be my gardening classroom. 

The garden is a piece of fertile earth about 10 feet wide by 20 feet long which allows me to plant 10 rows of a variety of vegetables.  My task today was to stake out the rows that will become my crop of tomatoes, beans, various kinds of squash, peppers, cucumbers, onions, beets, carrots, radishes, spinach and lettuces, okra and eggplant.  I was also able to plant some seeds for the cooler weather crops like onions, carrots and spinach.  I made furrows in the dirt where I deposited seeds of all shapes and sizes; some were round while others were flat and the arugula seeds were no bigger than the fine ground black pepper that resembles the arugula peppery taste.  Planting the purple, white and yellow onion sets was like putting them to bed, nestling them in the soft cradle of earth and covering them with a blanket of warm soil with a firm pat, tucking them in for good measure.

As I gathered up my gardening tools and brushed off the dirt from my boots, I looked back at my garden to consider the work I had just done as well as the remaining plants that will go in the ground.  Honestly, right now it doesn’t look like much other than some soil, some wooden stakes and some string.  No one could imagine that in time plant life will begin to emerge...the feathery green leaves of the carrots or their long pointed orange roots hidden deep beneath the earth or the tender smooth oval, green leaves of the spinach to come.  No one would be able to tell that there are dozens of bulbs under ground that will soon send bright green stalks signaling the presence of pungent onions that will one day be sliced on a hamburger or carmelized for a quiche.  My garden looks lifeless right now, yet it is so full of promise.

Next week is Holy Week.  Once again, the faithful will make the pilgrimage with Jesus from Jerusalem to Calvary, and then to garden tomb.  The disciples on Good Friday could not have imagined Jesus risen from the dead on Easter Sunday.  When the large stone was rolled in front of the entrance to the tomb, it didn’t look like much; all anyone saw was a big rock that indicated that Jesus’ life must be over.  Yet, that garden was full of promise, too...the promise of new life to come with his glorious resurrection...the deeply held and beautiful promise of my faith. 

Natalie Sleeth wrote one of my favorite hymns that expresses the promise of new life in Jesus Christ so beautifully:

In the bulb there is a flower, in the seed an apple tree;

In cocoons, a hidden promise, butterflies will soon be free!

In the cold and snow of winter, there’s a spring that waits to be,

Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

My garden holds a hidden promise.  Unrevealed until its season, I wait and hope for something right now God alone can see. 

The Genesis

Sometimes you just have to begin, even when you are unsure of what you are doing or what the outcome will be.  You have to play the first note to create a symphony.  You have to crack an egg to bake a cake. You have to run that first mile of a marathon race.  Whatever it is, every endeavor has a starting point.  So, with these five sentences I begin something.  This paragraph that I have just written is the genesis of something new for me.  Here it is...my first blog post.  

I am embarking on another new experience this Spring.  I am going to plant a garden.  I have never had a garden of my own.  The closest that I have come to gardening is through others.  I have wonderful summertime memories of picking peppers, squash and tomatoes from my parents’ and grandparents’ and even great-grandparents’ gardens.  I also have fond recollections of my dear father-in-law working for hours in his expansive garden.  One of my last and most special remembrances is of him tending the pot of cherry tomatoes I planted for him during the last summer of his life.  Yet, until now, I have never cultivated my very own garden.

When my sweet neighbor Kim offered me part of her garden patch that she was planning to let go fallow, I thought “why not?”  It will be an adventure.  Something new for me to learn in these middle years of my life. Another great way to enjoy the outdoors.  And, I can grow some vegetables for our summer table as well as to share with the church’s food pantry.  I gratefully (and somewhat nervously) accepted her offer.

The first time I heard the Parable of the Soils was probably also the first time I ever planted anything.  It was in Mrs. Emmons’ Sunday School class.  She read the story that Jesus told about a farmer scattering the seed.  Then she gave us all a Dixie cup filled with some black dirt.  She put tiny marigold seeds in our hands.  We sprinkled them on top of the dirt, stuck a popsicle stick with our name on it into the cup and left them to sprout in a sunny window.  When the next Sunday came, we all ran to the window to see tiny stems poking through the dirt and tender green leaves reaching toward the lip of the cup.  It was a holy mystery to behold.

So, I am starting a garden not really sure what I am doing or what the outcome will be.  I will dig in the dirt, plant some seeds, pull some weeds, pray for rain and, hopefully, harvest some goodness to eat.  Along the way, I will write about this new experience and what I learn about God’s amazing creation, including myself.  Anyone who is interested enough or brave enough or maybe just bored enough is invited to follow along this gardening adventure with me.  My hope is that scattering the seed will bring a holy mystery for one and all to behold.