Eating Locally – with rhubarb cookies

The rhubarb patch was getting overgrown – again – and I was stuck at home due to car repairs. What’s the connection, you might ask, and my family and close friends and regular readers would say, “Doh!”

I might add that the weather was wet, wet, and more wet, so I wasn’t likely to spend any time in the garden temporarily known as the Okay By Me Swamp. That brought me back to the kitchen and (full circle) the rhubarb.

I baked cookies. We now have rhubarb cookies, delicious and sweet, and a little more room in the rhubarb patch. A little, I said. I only harvested what I needed for one cup. There’s plenty left in the patch. For your enjoyment, here’s the recipe, slightly modified from the one I found on All Recipes dot com.

Rhubarb Drop cookies

2 cups whole wheat pastry flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup butter

1 cup white sugar

1 egg

1 cup rhubarb, chopped thin

1/2 cup raisins

3 Tablespoons flax seeds

1. Combine flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, cloves, and salt in a medium bowl. Set aside. Mix the raisins into this mixture until well coated to keep the raisins from clumping.

2. In a large bowl, beat butter and egg until smooth. Beat egg into batter. Stir in the rhubarb.  Mix flour mixture into the wet ingredients just until combined. Sprinkle with flax seeds; stir one more time.

3. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Drop spoonfuls of cookie dough onto ungreased baking sheets. Optional: use a fork coated with sugar to flatten cookies slightly. Bake for 12 – 15 minutes. Cool on the pan for a few minutes before moving to wire rack.

Serve with coffee, of course.

And then, after you sample the fresh cookies, take the rhubarb leaves out to the compost along with the eggshell and coffee grounds. After all, compost is what happens, and what happens is all natural and good.

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It’s a crazy, amazing world.

Officially, I was out of school on Friday, June 6, as soon as I had my progress reports handed in and my cubicle cleaned. It didn’t feel that way, though.

I turned in my progress reports, cleaned my cubicle, and then took off to pick up Amigo at his sister’s apartment in Lake Geneva. We were on the road home when Amigo realized he’d forgotten his wallet. La Petite met us midway, and we were on track again.

Saturday was a busy day and a napping day. Amigo left for camp Sunday, so he spent Saturday doing his laundry and I helped – a little.

Sunday we took him to camp.

Monday could have been  my first day of Summer Break, but I signed up for a training session that lasted four days. as Thursday ended, I gave a deep sigh of relief.

Then, Friday, we drove to camp to pick him up and bring him home. Still busy, not feeling the break yet.

Saturday and Sunday I did relax a little, but I did it with La Petite. She needed a little moral support for a few days, and I was available.

Well, folks, now it’s Monday, and it’s not going to be a manic Monday. I’m done traveling (for now), and I plan to stay at home, do my own laundry, and weed parts of the garden. I might even sleep in and/or take a nap.  If you’re expecting a lot out of me, you’ll have to wait.

 

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Everything’s coming up — pollinators?

Directly above my planting table, my storage spot for pots and soil and tools, a few newcomers are moving in.

wasp

wasp paper

They’re gone now. Don’t ask for details. It was a dark night in a backyard that likes to keep its secrets. Guy Noir himself could have staged a Raid and I wouldn’t reveal the details. No one was injured in the sting — well, no humans were stung. That’s the buzz, anyway.

And when my attempt at humor gets that bad, it’s time to stop blogging, wash the dirt out from under my nails, and put down the laptop.

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Weeding is Therapeutic

Weeding is productive and therapeutic and even enjoyable. I searched through old posts and found out that I’ve discussed the positives of weeding in the past. I mentioned this yesterday, too, in the context of the hay masquerading as straw.

Here’s one from June, 2007.

I enjoy weeding because I can see progress. My garden is divided into small sections, set apart by my stepping “stones” made from old deck and fence pieces. I set a goal of weeding one section at a time. When that’s done, I can quit weeding or choose to finish another section. This is a managable goal; I feel productive when I can see the results in one part of the plot. It spares me the frustration of not “finishing” the whole thing, which is of course an impossible goal. Today I chose one triangular section of the garden and weeded out the many mini maples that flew in from the lot behind ours. If I ever abandon this small plot of ground behind my garage, I predict the mini maples will take over, leaving room for a blanket of clover underneath. But for now, look out maples! I have garden gloves and I know how to use them.

Here’s an even older post from July, 2006.

Weeding feels good because:
  • I can’t hear the telephone.
  • Digging in the dirt is fun.
  • It doesn’t matter if I’m all sweaty and grimy.
  • I can appreciate the growth of my vegetables by comparing them to the weeds I’m pulling out.
  • I see the little flowers that mean the plants will bear fruit — some day.
  • I can laugh at the tiny “volunteer” tomato plants that grew where the rotten fruit dropped last fall.
  • The science teacher in me looks at all the clover and thinks, “Wow! There’s a lot of nitrogen in this soil! Who needs fertilizer?”
  • I notice the little grubs and worms that aerate the rich soil; and they’re almost (I said ALMOST) cute.
  • I notice how dark and rich the soil is, thanks to our home-grown compost.
  • The weeds (well, most of them) will become part of the cycle of life by decomposing in the compost bin.
  • Progress is noticeable. Every little bit of weeding shows results.
I heard a garden expert on the radio recommend that serious gardeners spend about 30 minutes a day weeding and maintaining. I don’t come near that, so I guess I’m not “serious” by his standards. I do keep it up, though, and get my hands dirty and produce good things to eat. My garden makes me happy. Isn’t that enough?

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The Truth about Straw Bales

I mentioned my dilemma about the straw bales. Did I have the right fertilizer? For that matter, did I have the right bales? We bought them from two different places last fall, and it seemed like one might have labeled the bales Straw when they were really Hay.

Hay? Straw? I’m a city girl, despite my green thumb and green attitude. I didn’t know straw from hay. So I did what a good virtual teacher does; I asked a student and her family for advice.

My students live all over Wisconsin, and several live on farms. I asked about the bales, describing the one set as looking straw-like and the other growing like a Chia Pet.

One of these things is not like the other.

One of these things is not like the other.

I learned that straw is what’s left over after the wheat is harvested and removed from the stalk, and hay is a grass. Yep, that’s it. I can extend this to say I learned not to buy a bale of “straw” at a grocery store. Uh-huh. This batch was left over from a fall display, so the store sold them off for a few bucks each. The rest are from a garden center. I know where I’ll go if I need a set of straw bales again.

Meanwhile, I took time to yank most of the growth from the hay bales. They’ll still work for planting; I just might have to weed them more often than not. And that’s alright. Weeding, after all, is therapeutic, too.

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The Kindness of Family

In the style of an old-fashioned neighborhood barn raising, my family dug holes and spread dirt and got sweaty and otherwise put themselves out so that I can play in the dirt again.

digging dandelions for bunny

digging dandelions for bunny food

Spreading soil and compost

Spreading soil and compost

In fact, it’s looking pretty darn good now. I filled one section with tomatoes already. Step by step, I’ll have a garden again.

And I’ll thank my family the best way I know how — with jars of the garden bounty, later on.

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Going Greener

I put No Impact Man on my wish list on Paperback Swap dot com quite a while ago. It came today, just in time for – no. Not just in time for anything, really. I’m eager to read it.

So far, I’m snickering as his dilemmas because I’ve face so many of the same. Paper or plastic? Today’s version is more likely to be “Is plastic okay?” because plastic bags cost the store so much less than paper. Dear darling Chuck gets paper bags when he shops. I bring my own. I don’t bug him about it – much.

Elevator vs. stairs: I don’t have to deal with nine floors like No Impact Man does. I deal with two flights in an old building, though, and that on top of major abdominal surgery followed by more medical issues that made walking difficult. Hence, the elevator, for a little longer.

Tissue vs. handkerchief: I still stick with tissue. It’s not the environmental choice, but it’s a more hygienic choice. Give me a little leeway there, green folks, because I still harbor the germ phobia from teaching in a classroom full of coughing and sneezing kids for many years.

And I’ve only just begun to read!

Meanwhile, I will keep on gardening for 3 minutes a day, and with the generosity of others, I might get the garden in. Soon. Maybe. Shh: don’t tell the neighborhood bunnies, but I’m planting lettuce. Soon.

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Three Minute Gardening

Dilemma du jour: straw bale fertilizer.

I bought fertilizer with the right ratio of nitrogen to phosphate to potash. I measured (well, pretty closely) the proper amount. I soaked the bales with my soaker hose every night, every other night adding fertilizer. So why is the fertilizer still sitting on top of the bales and not washing into the middle of each bale the way I expected it would?

Possible answers:

  • Maybe I bought the wrong fertilizer and inadvertently got the time-release kind.
  • Maybe I should be using a hose with nozzle so the water pressure washes the fertilizer down into the deep.
  • Maybe I’m just impatient and should settle down, turn off the hose, and blog instead.

Gardeners? Internet research gurus? Others? What’s going wrong? Or is nothing going wrong?

For now, I’m going to send out a Tweet asking for help. The Twitter-verse is usually good for gardening advice. TTFN – Ta-ta-for-now!

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