by Jane Keown
Oliver
Spring is
moving along nicely, with its usual compliment of
rain and sunshine, frost warnings and windy days.
The greenhouses have filled up with growing
plants, and we have had to empty them of hardier
and larger stock. On the nights of the frost
warnings, all the tender plants have to be loaded
onto trucks to keep them safe from the burning of
the cold air. In the early morning, they are
off-loaded onto the plant tables, and we keep a
watch on the weather predictions to see if a
repeat is needed for the next night. On my
wish-list: a new hoop
house.
It
occurred to me that both Mother's Day and Father's
Day are celebrated in the spring. Since new life
in the natural world comes in the spring, it makes
sense to honor the scions of our families at that
time of year. Mother's Day weekend usually
coincides with the apple bloom, and I always
recall my mother's story of visiting the farm on
the first time on May 10, 1941. Bloom was nearly
over, but Dad took her on a tour of the Greening
block, since this variety is one of the latest to
flower. She got a similar ride on Mother's Day for
the next fifty-one years. [I guess the first tour
was a success!] Since the farm became the focus of
the rest of their lives together, it was
appropriate that they spent their first time on
the farm together in the midst of the hopefulness
of the apple
blossoms.
Without the flowers, their would be no
crop. On my to-do list: drive up to the Greenings
and check out the bloom.
It has become
our custom on Father's Day to hold an annual Herb
Weekend at the farm. The herbs were my addition to
the product list, since I have been growing them
personally for over twenty years now. I learned to
cook from my mother, and she used many dried herbs
to spice up her dishes. I like to use fresh herbs
whenever possible, although I remember the days
when I had herbs drying in two of the upstairs
bedrooms in the farmhouse, making the place seem
close to the way I imagine heaven will smell. I
would crumble the dried leaves and store them in
mason jars in a dark cupboard, allowing me to
season all my winter dishes just like my mother.
Now we have access to fresh herbs year-round in
most supermarkets, so I haven't bothered to dry
herbs
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lately [notwithstanding the fact that the
"drying rooms" have reverted to use as bedrooms by
Artie and Christine's lively children!] We have a
wide-variety of herbs for sale at the farm, and I
plant many kinds in the field to sell as fresh
bunches both at the farm and at farmer's markets.
I experiment with new ones every year, and some
become favorites and a few become "also ran's."
This year I am intrigued by a new cilantro from
Viet Nam....it grows for the entire season and
doesn't need constant replanting. It is quite
exotic-looking, having two-toned leaves in maroon
and green. Maybe this will become a new staple in
my annual herb garden. [It obviously won't
overwinter in our climate, coming as it does from
southeast Asia!]
As the summer progresses, the work will increase.
Planting will give way to harvest, and everyone
will be busy making the most of the good weather.
It is interesting to note that Grandparent's Day
comes in September [the autumn of life?], just as
the pace at the farm reaches the hectic stage. We
have more work and fewer daylight hours, and it
sometimes feels as if we won't be able to get
everything done on time. But most things are
accomplished before the first fall frost.
But right now we are still concerned with the
question of whether or not we have seen the last
spring frost, and whether there has been much
damage in the orchard from the frost last week.
What with this and that, we try to keep a high
energy level as we continue to prepare for the new
season. In the back of my mind, I think of my
parents, and how their life on the farm gave me my
life on the farm. As I seed and transplant, plant
and pick, I remember riding in the back of the ‘56
Ford pickup [when it was still its original green
color] to go out to the Greening block to view the
apple blossoms. My mother enjoyed seeing them
every year, and Dad enjoyed showing them to her.
We kids were along just for the ride: now I guess
Artie and I are in the driver's seat. The view is
still grand, and the work is still worth it.
Despite the many herbal fragrances I have added
during the years, the potpourri of my life still
smells strongly of apple
blossoms.
Now it's
time to get back to the greenhouse and see what
sprouted during the night. Time is flying, and
there's still a lot to be
done. |