I never had rhubarb in my yard when I grew up. If we ate it, I don’t remember. I do remember my next door neighbor having a substantial rhubarb plot behind his garage. His youngest had a little trouble saying his R sound, so he called it ‘Woo-bob’.
When dear sweet Chuck and I bought our house, we discovered rhubarb growing along the back lot line. I decided the south side of the garage would be a better location with more sun, so I transplanted the rhubarb plants. With the transplant, they spread.
Then I bought my first rain barrel and set it up under the downspout on the south side of the garage. That entailed moving the rhubarb again, this time to the patch beside the deck that had held hollyhocks. When the hollyhocks came down with rust two seasons in a row, I pulled them out for good.
Now the rhubarb is thriving in this spot. It’s growing so much that I’ve even given away a few small plants. By the reports from my friends, the transplanting worked well for them, too.
Rhubarb is often the first harvest of the year in my northeastern Wisconsin climate. So far this season I froze some, gave some away, and cooked the rest into a rhubarb-strawberry syrup to flavor my first attempt at strawberry-rhubarb ice cream. Mmm, it’s tasty. I’ll definitely do this again.
Want more harvest posts with pictures? Go to Daphne’s Dandelions for her weekly gathering called Harvest Monday.