How do you spell easy?

O-K-R-A.   When you think of “easy,” think okra.   Not only is this vegetable easy to grow, it’s easy to maintain, harvest, pair with others, rotate year round.   Why, it literally gets along with everyone!   Low water needs, low nutrient desire, you can’t miss with this one.   Keep in mind that while it’s easy, it does tend toward the slimy and seedy (we’re talking plants here, not people), but to a very low degree, especially when ingested fresh. 

Speaking of easy, the Big Easy loves this baby, packing it into everything from gumbo to etouffe and all things Creole, while southerners have long favored the fried version.   Southerners like most things fried — I know this, because my mother grew up on Georgia cooking and we ate everything from fried chicken to fried plantains (odd, yes, but the family transplanted to Miami as did her culinary preferences).  Fried okra ranks as an old favorite.

My son is a big fan of okra – only lets my mother fry it for him – while my daughter…   She needed a bit of coaxing.   “C’mon, honey.  You can’t crinkle your nose.  You haven’t even tried it, yet!”   Once I convinced her it tastes best fresh from the vine (it’s actually a branch, but it sounds better when you say vine) she agreed, sort of.  I think she was more enthralled with the idea of eating it right from the plant than anything, but as a mother, my motto is:  whatever works! 

Another reason to include okra in your garden — it’s good for you.  Okra has wonderful health benefits, including vitamin C, calcium and potassium.   But even better, it contains glutathione, an antioxidant and cancer fighter which attacks carcinogens and ushers them away from cells, into the urine, and eventually out of the body.  Studies have shown encouraging signs for the role of glutathione in preventing the development of oral and throat cancers, too.   For more information on the natural health benefits of food in general, check out the book, The Doctors Book of Food Remedies written by Selene Yeager and the editors of Prevention magazine – another favorite of mine.

So this spring, try a round of okra (don’t bother until then, because okra likes it hot) and you’ll be glad you did.   Trust me! 

P.S.  If anyone who resembles the likes of an okra plant tells you to “trust them” – run!

 

Coming soon!

This section will pertain to writing – specifically my stories, lengths ranging from novellas to complete novels.   Themes will span the spectrum of women’s issues – many with strong romantic elements – and address the challenges touching our lives.   Directly or indirectly, each and every one of us has a stake in the lives of women as a whole, the world as a whole.   With each story, I will post discussion topics whereby together, we can pull the weeds from our lives – and those we love – clearing the path to a better and brighter future.   Remember:  when momma ain’t happy, nobody’s happy! 

But when momma is happy, the rest will follow suit, and the world will be a better place.   It all begins with us.   Stay tuned!  

And I look forward to your comments…

 

An experiment in neglect

I’m a busy lady with two small children, volunteer activities, after school sports and an up and coming career in writing.  Neglect is no stretch of the imagination for me which made my experiment all the more enticing.  Easier — considering the fact that overhauling my summer garden drained me to the bone.

And so it happened.  One afternoon, after a full day of tilling and mound shoveling, I spied my leftover watermelon rows and thought, there’s no way.  The tiller is due back at the rental store, my back is aching, and my husband is staring at me, the question clear in his eyes, Are we through here?

Yes.  We’re through here.  I have no desire to weed and till another inch let alone a ten by seventy patch of garden!  Besides, I’ve nothing to plant in these last rows, so why bother excavating when all it will mean is more maintenance?  Come spring, if I want to expand, we can scrape these weeds clean with the tractor – a much easier prospect.  So it was settled.  I’d ignore this end of the garden until spring. 

Over the next week, tiny shoots of watermelon broke through the ground.  Admittedly my first thought was more grunt than anything, but I quickly put the annoyance aside and admired the little cuties, reminding myself I was NOT weeding that section.  No problem.

Next thing you know, the vine is meandering into my peanuts, flowering, and out pops a miniature watermelon!  The kids noticed it first, with hoots of excitement (apparently, they find this sweet and delectable fruit more enticing than the cabbage and broccoli we were currently planting).  Not wanting to spoil their fun, I joined in and exclaimed my admiration, “Look at those beautiful stripes of green!”

It wasn’t until my son’s family birthday party when the real excitement broke out.  Everyone was in attendance, kids running wild in the backyard – we have plenty of them, ages five to fifteen – whereby my little “authority on everything,” intent on extolling his knowledge and know how to the others, led them to the garden.  Much to his delight — success!  Not only were they amazed he knew the name of each plant, bean and herb, he was also growing watermelon.  Watermelon! 

Well, grab the basket and run tell your parents, this kid’s got his own watermelon patch!  Unbelievable!  Indulging the children’s enthusiasm, the adults trailed after to see what all the fuss was about and sure enough, my son had already clipped and claimed a pretty good-sized watermelon for the harvest basket. 

Everyone oooohed and aaaahed over the specimen, and a nephew asked me for instruction on how to clip basil.  Pleased by his interest though surprised by his choice, I began to explain – until suddenly, my heart stopped.  From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of another nephew leaping over rows as if he were running an obstacle track! 

I hollered at him, “Stop!” while at the same time, my niece called out for permission to cut another melon.  My attention duly divided, I couldn’t respond until — thankfully – my son took over the job of teaching his cousin how to correctly traverse the rows. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned to see her ripping the fruit from the vine.  “Take it,” I murmured.  It’s yours, now.

Returning to the task at hand, I showed him how to pinch the basil, the only part he wanted.  To our left, kids were swimming for sweet potatoes and to our right, they were snipping okra.  It was an amazing scramble of activity.

“Can I have this green pepper?” asked my sister-in-law.

“Sure.”

“Sissy, what’s this?”

I looked up to see her holding an eggplant.  Glancing up from the basil, my nephew ventured, “May I have a watermelon, too?”

Pleased everyone was enjoying the harvest, I replied, “Of course.”  But I can’t make any promises as to quality.  By the warm pleasure that swamped his expression, I’m not sure it mattered. 

He doesn’t know it isn’t watermelon season!

 

Beans, beans and more beans!

Limas and black beans are bursting full and more fun for a boy to pick than was anyone’s guess.   And I thought swimming for potatoes was the key to a good time.   No, no!   Boys love their beans, from harvest to table.   Talk about a project to keep them busy!  While my daughter has no use for beans whatsoever, her brother has become an expert.   He’s an expert on most things, but that’s a “gene” thing, not to be confused with “bean” thing.   Set a basket of beans in front of the lad with privileges to wield a small safety knife and he’ll go to town!  After one brief lesson, of course. 

Setting up a “bean station” next to the kitchen sink, his compost bin nearby in the sink, he snipped away the ends, peeled the string down the side and tossed the beans  into the awaiting cup, the skins into the awaiting bin.  Thankful not to be included, his sister kept unusually quiet and used the remainder of our mashed pumpkin to bake some bread – delicious bread.   For recipes, check out pickyourown.org and learn more than one way to cook a pumpkin!

We blanch our lima beans, then dunk them in ice water, followed by a “quick dry,” whereby we store them in the freezer, sealed in a plastic baggie.  I’d love to know an alternative method for storing veggies in the freezer that doesn’t require a plastic bag – anybody have a suggestion?

Once you cook your first batch, I have to say, you suddenly realize what these beans are supposed to taste like – butter fresh and delightful – with nothing more than a dash of butter, seasoned by salt and pepper.

 

Thank Heaven for seed and feeds!

Onions are in, onions are in!  And not a moment too soon – yahoo! 

This is big excitement for me, cause I have tried to sprout my sweet onion seeds – repeatedly — but to no avail.  Zip.  Nada.  Nothing.  The nice fellow at my local feed and seed said, “Might be too early.”  I nodded, declining to inform him that my seed plant date data sheet clearly states I could start “trying” in August. 

But okay.  I’ll go with it.  A simple case of “operator error.”  It isn’t the first time for me and won’t be the last, of this I can be sure, but perhaps the true culprit was distance.  They were too far from my sight – as in, the garden - and were allowed to get too dry.  Listing says, these isty bitsy guys need consistent moisture.  Alrighty, then –  on to plan B!

So I started the next batch on my back patio, you know, so I could see them, and remember to water them — much like I do with my fragile broccoli sprouts.  But nope, this didn’t work either (temperamental little things).  So not only can I NOT claim an advance toward my goal of self-sustainability – this failure is ruining coveted visions of giving my sprouts that “hair trim” so cutely illustrated in the book! 

Whatever.  Some times, you just have to let go. 

September was blowing in and I was still onion-less, so I trotted down to my local seed store.  Now mind you, my local seed store is a Godsend.   They patiently answer all my questions – my very basic questions – most probably thinking:  Should you be gardening?  But ever the professionals, they never let on, though it does remind me of my school days.  I was that kid up front asking so many questions, my fellow students would snicker, dunce.  While I never actually heard them utter the word, I know they were thinking it.  Want to ask who got an A on the test come Friday?

You guessed it (me, for the slow kids in the back).   And that’s the point.  If you keep at it, you will succeed – with the help of your local seed and feed store.   It’s an invaluable resource, not to mention a great place to buy your hay, compost, organic fertilizers and the like.  For those high on excitement but short on time, many stores offer ready to go veggie plants making it super EASY to get your garden growing! 

But pssssst…  Don’t let on you’re interested in sustainable gardening and seed preservation procedures –  kinda puts a damper on their seed sales, if you know what I mean.   And trust me, you don’t want them to set out the unwelcome mat for you cause you’re gonna need them when those seeds you’ve been drying get mistaken for crumbs, or knocked off the counter by an overzealous Labrador.  Sometimes, you drop them on your way out to the garden.   Get the picture? 

Visit your seed store early and often and you’ll enjoy a row of sprouts like these beauties – though they do resemble a bad hair transplant a bit, don’t they?

 

Got Pumpkins?

Make pumpkin pie!  And yes, I’m talking about those pumpkins from your front porch step.  In our effort to become less “environmentally wasteful,” the kids and I carved out our pumpkins, tossed the stringy mess into the compost pile, saved the seeds for roasting and/or next year’s crop and commenced to cookin!  We found this great recipe online from www.pickyourown.org and it worked like a charm.  And it’s a heck of a lot easier than I would have imagined!

Once you completely carve the pumpkin, you cook it.  We steamed ours stove top, but they have instructions for microwave and oven, too.  Because we didn’t have a steamer big enough, I put a metal colander inside one of my biggest pots, cut the pumpkin into large pieces, then covered it with tin foil.  Twenty minutes later – cooked, squishy pumpkin!  It peels off the skin with little or no effort, then you place it into a big mixing bowl and add sugar (we used organic, purchased from our grocer), spices, evaporated milk and eggs.  The recipe is enough for two pies, unless they’re both deep dish. 

Tip: use a hand blender or mixer.  We didn’t, and ended up with cooked egg whites “floating” in our pies.  While it didn’t affect the taste, it did detract from the appearance so be forewarned — in case you’re gifting your pies.   We did cut corners a bit and used the store-bought prepared pie pastry, covering the edges with foil so they didn’t burn, which means we can’t officially say it’s from scratch – but pretty close.  And really, shouldn’t we let those who have perfected the business of pastry get credit?  (But if you’re a die hard scratch cook, go for it.)  We then placed them in the oven for about an hour and they were delicious!  Check my recipe page for full details.

As to next year’s crop, keep in mind you’ll have to plant in June if you want pumpkins by Halloween, as it takes 3-4 months to reach maturity, and beware the rainy season.  Pumpkins are susceptible to fungus and mold.  For more details on growing pumpkins in Florida, go to UF’s solutions for your life.  It’s a wonderful resource for real life gardening.

 

Superwoman lands in the garden!

The other day, my daughter and I were working a row of weeds.  Actually several rows, but since I promised her we’d only tackle one row a day — the trick to securing her continued return — I was doing the bulk of the weeding.  Which I don’t mind.  Surrounded by sprouts and vegetables in varying stages of growth, I feel productive.  And all the better: I’m not folding clothes.  So life is good!

It was a warm, but beautiful day when she rose from her aisle of hay and exclaimed, “All done!” 

The relief on her face was too funny – and predictable – and I couldn’t help but tease, “Already?  Wow.”  I surveyed her handiwork.  “You’re amazing.  How about another?”

“Mom,” she replied sternly, slapping a dirt-covered hand to her hip.  “You promised.  Only one row.”

“I know, I know.”  I chuckled.  “It was worth a try.”  Dismissed, she trotted off to find her brother.

 Only to return an hour later.  Kneeling down in the row beside me, she began to pick at weeds.  I glanced at her, surprised.  “What are you doing?  I thought you were finished weeding.”

“I am,” she reassured.  “But I’m bored, so I thought I’d come help.”

I sat back on my heels.  “You’re always welcome to help.  In fact,” I added, “I like being in the garden with you, just us girls.”

This drew a smile from her, but she maintained focus on her task.  I resumed my leaf pluck expedition down a line of eggplant, and together we worked in silence.

Until she murmured, “Mom, you are Superwoman.”

My heart sung!  My spirit soared!  “Superwoman?”  I tried to conceal my glee. I mean — could it be true?  She finally noticed?

She nodded.

Warmed by the sentiment, I smiled, flattered she noticed.  It’s because I’ve devoted my life to you, isn’t it?  I’ve signed on to be Girl Scout leader, always offer to be school volunteer, I’m ever the reliable athletics chaperone…  

Basking in the glow of my daughter’s admiration, my imagination flittered about, enthralled with a sense of validation, honor, and the glorious reward for my years of dedication.  I lost all sense of good judgment and replied, “That’s so sweet.  But you know, baby doll, I’m not Superwoman.”  I didn’t want her to invest any time in unrealistic goals and expectations for herself, her future, so I told her, “I’m just a woman, doing what she loves.”

Her expression twisted in confusion.  “You love weeding?”

I pulled back.  “Weeding?”  Now we were both confused.  “No…”  My hands fell to mys sides, landing in – dirt.  “I was referring to your Superwoman comment.”

“Oh.”

“Why did you say I was Superwoman?” I asked, but could feel the hoe slicing through the air, its blade headed straight for me. 

“Cause you have endurance!  I don’t know any mom who could weed as much as you!”

Ouch.  Bubble-filled fantasies popped.  My ego deflated.  Humidity clung to my skin like a wet noodle.  There’s a kick in the rear.

But as those innocent green eyes held me in their gaze, I knew I couldn’t be upset.  I had to take her at her word – the one she meant to be a compliment.  And while it may not have been the one I had hoped, it was her own, and wholly genuine.  Heartfelt. 

It doesn’t get any better than that.

Rising from my knees, I walked over and placed a kiss on the top of her head.  “Thank you, baby.  I appreciate that, and it was kind of you to say.”

She beamed, pleased with herself.  I grinned, heartened by her self-contentment.  Both of us were satisfied with the moment, the kind which may prove scarce as she grows into adolescence. 

So me, I took my lump of sugar when and where I could — as any smart mother would.  One never knows when the next batch will arrive!

 

Don’t let this happen to you

It’s called lack of planning.  Well, not lack of planning because let me tell you, my garden was planned.   I’ve got it laid out on an excel spreadsheet, color-coded, special needs listed, including next season’s layout accounting for crop rotations!  So planning is NOT the issue.  Poor planning is the issue and as much as it pains me to admit that, it’s true.  Despite my earnest at the keyboard with The Vegetable Gardener’s Bible and my regional seeding and planting data at my fingertips, I failed to account for watering needs.  Sad, but true.

I was too focused on companion planting, making sure friends were near one another and adversaries were not.  It never occurred to me to check their watering schedule!  I mean, don’t all plants need water?  My spring garden was irrigated evenly and all plants were happy.  Why, people would always comment how wonderful our garden was growing.  I replied, it’s the water and fertilizer — simple!

No, not really.  Garlic and onions are friends.  Says so in all the books.  But one needs moderate water and one needs low.  I ask you, How good of companions can they be, if they don’t have the basics in common?  Well, that’s beside the point.  Much of life is accepting what is, even if that means accepting your own shortcomings.  Fine.  The world is still turning.  And I’m resourceful, if I’m anything and I’ll fix what I’ve done!  Yes!  Rain coats!  By jove, I think you’ve got it!

Nope.  Not so good.  The water collects on one end and washes out the beautiful raised bed below.  Sure, this can be fixed by stretching it out further on that end (though garbage bags only come in so many sizes).  But then another issue presents itself.  Not enough water.  Yep.  You heard me right.  So I’ve removed the plastic and am contemplating a “sprinkler move.”  I’ll have to set up two zones, then do my best to account for all of the “friends” residing therein.

But there’s another problem.  I didn’t check harvest dates.  So here I have this beautiful stagger - onion, garlic, onion, garlic – only to become annoyed when I realized the garlic would be in ground until spring!  Oh, the onions will be out in a matter of months, but not so, the garlic.  And this undermines weed control.  Remember, my garden is planned.  It’s so planned, it includes following the line of harvested vegetables with a black, plastic ground cover to keep weeds from taking over while I’m waiting for spring planting.  A fabulous idea, right? 

Until you visualize a half-harvested row.  Every other section will still be gone but every other will be in ground, which means NO cover.  Grunt.  Grimace. Growl.  What was I thinking?  Why wasn’t I thinking! 

Looking on the bright side, as one can only do when faced with such dilemma, is to imagine the ”quilt-like patchwork” appearance I’ll have.  It’ll be my very own old-fashioned section that will conjure up lovely images.  At least the hideous plastic is gone.

 

Lookee who I found in the compost pile!

My neighbor warned this might happen.  I’ve been so busy tossing everything into my compost pile, planning for my next growing season, I didn’t pay attention to what was growing in it this season.  A tomato plant!  I knew right away what it was, because there’s one thing about tomato plants and that is – they are aromatic.  I’m no “olfactologist,” but I can tell a tomato plant when I smell one - it’s a distinct fragrance.  

And I’m excited!  Another experiment in the making – woohoo!  But due to the fact that I yanked the thing out of my compost pile like the intrusive weed that I mistook it for, my expectations are somewhat dimmed.  Tomato plants are not known for their transplanting capability.  And while I have a few in my garden disproving that notion, this one might not survive, as its roots were fairly ripped.  And torn.  (I can be fairly aggressive when there’s work to be done.)

But looking on the bright side of the compost pile, it might just be the stimulation this little guy needs to get busy and get growing.  It’s already day two, and he hasn’t shown signs of stress, yet!  Give him time, my husband says.  Give him time…

 

Black turtle? But I thought we were talking beans!

We are!  Black beans!  And lots of them!

What a great day it is when you stroll out to your garden and discover your black beans are producing at the rate of rabbits!  Forget your first batch acted like turtles and moped around at a snail’s pace.  Forget your disappointment when you learned the hard way to thoroughly dry a bean before you go tossing it into the pot (hint: don’t shell them, immediately seal them in an airtight plastic container, shelve them in a dark spot in your pantry and expect to eat them – trust me, it only leads to heartache). 

Why, forget the past.  It’s a new day and a new harvest!  So get your fingers peeling and your salsa shaking ’cause it’s time to dance!  Really, black beans are an awesome bean to grow.  Granted, they’re not the first that comes to mind when planting a garden in Central Florida, but I ask, why not?  We have the perfect climate.  I mean, when you think of black beans, you think of Cuba, right?  Puerto Rico, Miami, South America…all warm and sunny exotic locales, just like my home here in rural Central Florida.  As a big fan of latin cuisine myself, I thought back to my first rule of gardening:  what do I want to grow?  What do I want to eat, is the real question!  And me, I love black beans!

In learning to grow these beauties, I learned a few interesting things.  First and foremost, when you endure the labor to deliver these babes, make sure you know what to do – and what not to do - once you get them home.  Peel them, admire them, place them in a comfortable container, but don’t go and seal it all safe and secure.  Not unless you want to come home one day, carried away with dreams of how you’ll prepare your first batch of homegrown black beans, only to discover they’re covered in mold!  Or fungus.  Not properly schooled in the differences between these two horrific intruders, I couldn’t tell you which smothered the life out of my beans, but one of them did.  And it was devastating.  Explain that to your six-year-old when he learns of your debacle.  And it’s the only bean he’ll eat.  Yep.  Pulled my hair out on that one.

So take it from me – let them air out a while.  Like a fine bottle of red wine, let them breathe.  Place them on a plate, an open bowl, maybe in a paper bag, but whatever you do, don’t seal off their air supply because when first peeled, these beans are moist and apparently stay moist for quite some time.  How long, I couldn’t tell you.  Not yet, anyway.  This new batch is only my second, so I’m guarding them with my life.  Though…the fact they are my second batch is good news, indeed.  Better, when you learn the plants which produced these gems, grew from beans I was able to salvage from my initial harvest.  A step toward sustainability – achieved!

And it’s not a difficult process, at all.  If you can grow a pole bean, you can grow black beans.  (Sorry Arctic Amigos, but you’ll have to barter with your friends south of the border – these pups are sensitive to frost)  You’ll note the pods look fairly similar, with long slender bodies, rounded in all the right places, but unlike pole beans, it’s easy to know when to pick them.  They change color.   Handy, isn’t it?  First, they take on a nice lavender shade, an early sign you can pluck away, but if you miss this stage, don’t fret, you can still harvest them, only they’ll be a bit on the dry side when you open them.  And who cares?  These beans are meant to be dried.  So what if they take the initiative and begin the process on the vine?

Word to the wise:  don’t eat them as you pick them.  I know you’re excited about your first harvest – they’re black beans, for goodness sake!  But another fascinating fact I learned along the way was that these beans contain – get ready – contain lectin phytohaemagglutinin.   It’s a toxic compound found in beans, most concentrated in the kidney bean.  When eaten raw, soaked for an insufficient amount of time, or even cooked for long hours on too low a heat setting, it can cause some bad things to happen to your body.   When I researched black beans, the same warning popped up for them, which alarmed me, because I’m that gal in the garden, poppin the produce in my mouth BEFORE it makes it to the kitchen sink.  Remember – my veggies are grown without the assistance of dangerous pesticides so I’m not real worried about ingesting nasty chemicals and the like (who knew the bean itself could be the problem?!).  So take heed, stay on the safe side while crouched in your bean rows – make sure you soak, soak, boil, boil and then eat.   And enjoy! 

Check out my recipe pages for serving suggestions.