I’m going to write about something that doesn’t happen anymore, something I miss terribly.
I am a terrible gardener. My thumbs are definitely ungreen. I can’t keep house plants alive. It’s survival of the fittest all the way. I don’t have any because I think it’s bad karma to have plants and flowers not at their best. For the eight years that we lived in a one-room schoolhouse, we were slaves to a large organic veggie garden. My husband’s idea. He’s the green thumb.
I’m not afraid of hard work. I was quite happy to lug large buckets of water from our well over to the garden, even during the worst of the southern Ontario hot, muggy weather. I spent hours doubled over pulling stubborn weeds out of rows of cucumbers, peppers and tomatoes. (Unfortunately, I often confused the tender new seedlings of our veggies, with the offensive weeds.) And, when the sheep farmer up the road gave us a load of well composted manure in November, I was out there with my shovel frantically spreading it across the garden, before the pile froze and became a giant poopsicle.
I could have easily done without all the backbreaking labour. Where I really shone, where I really came to life, was in harvesting and saving the results of an entire season of perfectly ripe fruits and veggies at the peak of their flavour and nutrition.
Summer berries are Mother Nature’s jewels. I adored the sight and smell of bowls of strawberries, raspberries and blueberries covering my kitchen counters. Back in the day when we lived in the schoolhouse, I had time and energy to make jam. More recently, I froze berries on cookie sheets, and then tumbled them into large freezer bags. In the dead of winter, my taste-buds weary of root vegetables and apples, I reached into the freezer and made a Very Berry Cherry Cobbler. Each bite tasted like summer.
I loved the rhythm and the progression of the season. In August I froze fresh peaches for the sole purpose of baking crisp in November. A mouthful of dissolving sunshine was the perfect remedy for decreasing daylight and increasing cold.
Two cups of frozen, shredded zucchini became the basis for a delectable Chocolate Orange Bundt Cake that often graced my blue and white, Victorian cake stand.
I figured out a new way to save green and yellow beans. Instead of blanching first, it was so much easier to freeze them individually on cookie sheets, and then store them in big bags.
As time went by and MS worked its black magic on my body, I slowly lost the ability to do all this on my own. As I hulled strawberries, I dropped the paring knife. Again. And yet again. Exasperating. I struggled to lift trays of berries and beans in and out of the freezer. Exhausting. Reluctantly, I gave in and we hired caregivers to be my hands. Surrendering. I happily discovered that when my freezer was full of summer produce, it didn’t matter to me that I wasn’t the one who did the work. Compromising. Surprising.
It was comforting to know I had the makings of a delicious meal immediately at hand. Now that I live in LTC, and no longer need to squirrel away food for the future, I’m finding it hard to fight my instincts and allow all this bounty just to pass me by. I miss it.
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