Trying to Remember that Kind of September...

I’ve been missing you. Over the past three months I’ve only blogged a handful of times, but I’ve thought of you, my readers, nearly every day. I’ll see something I find remarkable, cook something memorable, or hear something worth repeating, and I’ll think: I should blog about that. But then I find it impossible to carve out the few minutes of quiet that it takes to share these happenings with you.

Mostly for my sake, I need to be better about it. Sometimes I wonder that if I don’t blog about it, did it really happen?  You know, like the tree that falls in the forest: does it make a sound? These days I forget more than I remember, and I often refer back to my blog to confirm events that I know happened, but I can’t remember when, or the important details.

So today, I thought I’d commit to telling you about one of the most significant events to ever happen here at Farm Dover. I’ve been reliving it all week in my mind, and don’t ever want to forget a single detail, because, it gives me such happiness to recall it.

On Saturday, September 10, our daughter, Maggie, and her long-time partner, Nathan, were married in front of the guest cottage in our backyard, as those dear to them looked on and listened as they made the most serious of commitments to each other. Nate’s grandfather, Norbert, read from 1 Corinthians 13 and then offered the couple some insights about what it means to take this step. Afterwards, we celebrated.

.......................................

But let me back up a bit and give you some background. Back in mid-March, Maggie and Nate asked Ed and me to meet them for Sunday brunch at a neighborhood cafe. They arrived on their bikes, with big smiles on their faces, and an engagement ring on Maggie’s left hand. (Maggie and Nate met in 2009 during Maggie’s last year of college at the University of Wisconsin and have been together ever since – although sometimes living in different cities.)

The morning after their joyful announcement, Maggie boarded a plane bound for Los Angeles for an intensive three-month accelerator program for medical startups. Before she left, she and Nate agreed that they wanted to get married at Farm Dover in the early fall and requested that I plan the wedding, keeping it relatively small and simple in nature. I could do that!

So, between mid-March and early September, life went on, but was just a bit busier. Ed and I continued to do some traveling and kept up with all the normal parts of a busy season here on the farm. From Brooklyn, Mary designed the wedding invitation and Jack came home from China in early August and went to work getting the farm “wedding ready” as well as learning some new pieces on his accordion. Maggie and Nate stayed busy with work, renovating their home, and planning with Nate’s mom and dad a night-before-the-wedding backyard dinner at their place.

And then, before we knew it, it was time. Well, actually, it was pouring down rain when it was time. So we just delayed the ceremony for a bit and instead began the reception. Soon enough, the rain let up and Jack began to play the prelude. Daughter Mary, Maggie’s maid of honor, walked down the stone path from the house, and stood with Mike, Nate’s best man and brother-in-law. Preacher Doug Slagle stood beside Nate. Once the prelude was finished, there was a pause, then Jack began playing the processional cantata. Ed took Maggie’s hand and together they made the walk down the path.

The pictures really do a wonderful job of telling this story. If you follow me on Instagram you may have seen these already. I trust you will agree that they are worth preserving here in this space. (Note: unless noted otherwise, these photos were taken by the incredibly talented Ashley Glass of Ashley Glass Photography.) 

Sandy's sunflowers and Mary's hand-painted sign let our guests know that they had arrived.
Photo by sister Sherry.

Maggie and Nate were so relaxed, not thrown off by the rain one bit.

Her mother, on the other hand, kept peering out the door toward the brightening horizon. 

Guests dropped their wet umbrellas at the door and made their way inside.

The rain stopped and Jack began playing.

The bride, waiting at the top of the stairs.

The father-of-the-bride holding tightly to Maggie's hand as they make their way down to the cottage.

That look says it all. Photo by sister Sherry.

The ceremony: short and very sweet.

Introducing Maggie Galloway and Nate Pinney
(Yes, she is keeping her name: once a Galloway; always a Galloway)

My girls. My sister Kathy made Maggie's bouquet; it included blackberry brambles and crabapples. 

Nate's restored El Camino served as the beer truck.

Pies, instead of cake.

Jack and Nate's sister, Amy, performed a duet.

Listening to the heartfelt toasts.

The stars came out.
A bonfire was lit. Somores and Bourbon consumed.
Many of the guests camped out. 

The next morning dawned beautifully.
Breakfast for the campers was hosted by Karen and Julie.
A perfect end to a perfect weekend.

Resources and Thank Yous

• Invitation design: Mary Galloway
• Ceremony music: Jack Galloway
• Post dinner duet: Jack Galloway and Amy Pinney
• Photography: Ashley Glass of Ashley Glass Photography
• Officiant: Rev. Doug Slagle
• Catering: Farm to Fork Food
• Pies: Flour de Lis Bakery
• Wine, Beer and Bourbon: The Wine Rack
• Flower arrangements: Kathy Brooks, Jason Jennings and Lynn Kunau
• Sunflowers, zinnias and wildflowers: Sandy Topy
• Detailed “to do” list: Patrice Paton
• Lunch on Friday: Jackie Bickel
• Table setup: Patrice Paton, Glenda Bumpas, Amy Pinney, Lisa Pinney, Sherry Leavell and Julie Ensor
• Lunch on Saturday: Patrice Paton
• El Camino beer truck: restored by Nate Pinney, driven to Farm Dover by Doug Pinney.
• Party in northern Kentucky hosted by Connie and Jeff Schaaf (Nate’s godparents and aunt and uncle)
• Party in Louisville at the Gralehaus (same night as the Bardstown Road Zombie Walk!) hosted by Jackie Bickel, Lynn Kunau and Robin Seiler
• Party on Friday night at Maggie and Nate’s hosted by Lisa and Doug Pinney
• Morning-after breakfast at Farm Dover hosted by Karen and Julie Wunderlin; food provided by Wiltshire Pantry

As you can see, this was an effort by lots of people who joined together to support Maggie and Nate on this, their very special day. We are grateful to them all.

When life gives you hot peppers...

Last week I harvested a handful of banana peppers and, as I always do, stuffed them with cheese and ran them under the broiler. One bite later, I realized that I had made a terrible mistake: I planted HOT banana peppers, not the mild ones that I normally grow.

And the plant was producing peppers like crazy. I was in a pickle about what to do with them. Then I remembered that I was almost out of our Wild Carrot Farm pepper butter, the secret ingredient that I put in my pimento cheese. I had been meaning to stop by my neighbor's farm, just up the road, and buy a case of his locally famous pepper butter. Instead, I decided to make my own.

A quick google search revealed a number of recipes, none of which included butter, but most of which did included a tablespoon or two of flour. A few of the recipes mentioned that one should probably not use flour in recipes that are canned, but they did so anyway. I have a mortal fear of killing my beloveds with foods that I home can, so I researched some more and found a recipe that uses something called Clear Jel, in place of flour. I ordered a bag of it, picked my peppers, and set to work chopping the peppers and discarding the stems and seeds. I added two red pimento peppers to the mix, just for their pretty color.

I pureed the peppers and then added them to a pot and simmered with some white vinegar, mustard, sugar and a bit of salt. I added in the Clear Jel and let the mixture thicken before filling small jar and placing them in the canning pot of boiling water for processing.

I'm quite pleased with the results. The pepper butter is tangy and not too hot. I added a teaspoon to today's lunchtime chicken salad and it gave it just the right amount of oomph. I may even try a dab or two on our pork chops tonight.  And I'm planning to use another scoop of it tomorrow to make some pimento cheese for our Meatless Monday lunch.

So, the next time life gives me hot peppers, I'll know what to do with them. In fact, I may intentionally plant some next year just so I can restock my pantry with homemade pepper butter.

Consequences

Late winter finds me flipping through seed catalogs, dreaming of my summer garden. In early spring, I can't wait to plant the first peas and radishes. Once the weather warms, I go all out, planting cucumbers, tomatoes, green beans, okra, an assortment of squash, two kinds of potatoes and a bunch of herbs. Early summer, I mostly just admire how beautiful the garden looks.

But now, I spend my days dealing with the consequences of earlier efforts. The harvest (and the weeds) grow exponentially by the day.

I haul in buckets of squash, zucchini, and cucumbers.

My basil turns into bushes and I scramble to turn the bushes into pesto.

Carrots, beets, shallots, onions and garlic are eager to be pulled from the earth, but then demand that I do something with them. The pumpkin and sweet potato vines are out of control -- like things from Little Shop of Horrors.

Just this week, the tomatoes are beginning to redden. The first few off the vine are celebrated with fanfare. But then the pace quickens, and I'm left to find creative ways to use hundreds and hundreds of tomatoes. (There are only so many BLTs that our family can consume.)

I'm not really complaining. There is nothing more that I love than going out to the garden and seeing what can be turned into dinner.  Tonight we are feasting on a Nicoise Salad, which uses up the last of the green bean harvest, some tiny new potatoes, a handful of cherry tomatoes and some lettuce before it bolts. It's topped with a grilled tuna steak and garnished with eggs cheerfully provided by friend Jackie's hens.

My garden work is made easier these days with help from Jack, thankfully home from China.

And he's quite appreciative of his mama's cooking. Makes it all worthwhile.

Eating pie; dancing in the rain

Two quintessential summertime activities happened at Farm Dover yesterday – one planned; the other happened spontaneously when a rain cloud let loose in the back yard.

It all started with the arrival of our cousins and their grandmother, a tradition now in its fourth year. Nathan – almost 11, Julia – almost 7, and Frances – 4, were put to work immediately. They harvested (and tasted straight from the garden) nasturtium blossoms and leaves, carrots, beets, shallots, green beans, squash, zucchini, potatoes, chard, blackberries, raspberries and okra. Once their buckets were filled, they switched out of straw hats and into aprons. Nathan was in charge of the sharp knife and chopping; the girls each artfully arranged the vegetables on pizza crusts. While the pizzas cooked, we stuffed squash blossoms with herbs and ricotta and fried them up for appetizers.

Nathan and Julia's dad (cousin Jonathan) and girlfriend Becky joined us for lunch. Just as we finished eating, the rain started coming down, a rainbow appeared, and the kids disappeared to change into their bathing suits and then ran out to dance in the rain: quintessential activity #1.

They followed up their rain dance with an ice-bucket challenge: each child, one by one, drenched with a bucket full of ice water. After which, they wrapped themselves in oversized beach towels and gathered on the back porch for quintessential activity #2: enjoying a slice of Anna's peach pie and a scoop of ice cream.

Before the afternoon ended, they played pool and ping pong and hiked our two trails through the woods, stopping along the way to pick wild blackberries and climb a tree.

While here, they reminisced about previous visits (2013, 2014 and 2015). I hope they add to their memories the afternoon they danced in the summer rain and ate pie on the back porch at Farm Dover. I know I'll remember it fondly always.

Already looking forward to next year....

Summer Garden

Most mornings as the sun comes up you can find me out in my garden in my robe and house slippers. I can't wait to see what's happened overnight – can't even take the time to step into my overalls.

On Tuesday I was greeted by a big, fat mama racoon who was trying to hide under the pumpkin patch. I spoke harshly to her, asking her in no uncertain terms to leave the garden. She looked at me, but refused to leave. I had an empty wooden harvest basket in my arms and without thinking, I flung it at her. (Don't worry, I missed.) She reluctantly walked to the end of the garden and clambered over the small chicken-wire fence. She then sat just on the other side and looked back at me, rather woefully. And then I figured out why. A baby raccoon peeked out from underneath the pumpkin vines and made its way to the end of the garden, but couldn't figure out how to get over the fence. Finally, it figured out that it could climb up a hill of mulch that Ed had dumped just inside the fence and from there, it could jump over the fence and be free to join its mama. Once reunited, they made their way into the woods behind the beehives.

Most mornings there are a number of small bunnies inside the garden. I intend to fence the garden next spring with something more impenetrable than foot-high chicken wire. In the meantime, I just share. There is plenty to go around. Come along, I'll show you what growing like crazy.

Cinderella pumpkins appear to double in size overnight.

Volunteer sunflowers popped up in the middle of my garden and stretch skyward.

More squash and zucchini than we can possible eat or give away.
I've been stuffing the blossoms with ricotta and herbs and frying them up -- just like we had in Italy last year. 

A second round of raspberry showed up this week. The cultivated blackberries also produced handfuls of berries.

Cucumbers and more cucumbers. Thinking of making bread-and-butter pickles next week.

Butternut squash vines have invaded my tomato plants -- which got a late start this year. 

Green beans ready for picking.

Basil gone wild.

It's called rainbow chard for a reason.

First time trying to grow shallots.

Harvested three kinds of beets this week. Pickled them last night in red wine vinegar.

Maggie gave me a fig tree for my birthday!

Our pear trees finally have some fruit this year.

Maybe I should start a farm stand at the end of our drive.

_________________

I'll  leave you with these garden jokes:

What did the lettuce say to the celery? Quit stalking me.

Why shouldn't you tell secrets in a cornfield? Too many ears.

What vegetable did Noah leave off the ark? Leeks.

What is green and goes to summer camp? A brussels scout.

How did the farmer fix his overalls? With a vegetable patch.

Why did the potatoes argue? Because they couldn't see eye to eye.

And lastly:

When do you know a snail is lying? When he tells you he's not at home.

Enough to Share

We're having a banner blackberry year here at Farm Dover. A perfect confluence of rain and sun have produced more wild blackberries than Ed and I are able to pick. I'm talking millions of berries. A friend asked how we were able to keep the birds from eating them all and I replied that there is more than enough to share -- with birds, bees, bunnies and deer. And with friends too.

Our best picking happens when we head out early. The sun is still low on the horizon; the berries glisten with dew; and the birds seem oblivious to us. We make our way over the dam and head down the trail. Sometimes we pick along the edges but most often we head into the meadow where the grasses and wildflowers are taller than our heads.

It's quiet work. Ed and I go into the field together, but soon separate -- each of us seeking out a patch that tempts us with an overload of plump berries. I've learned to wear a glove on my left hand, allowing me to move the thorny stems out of the way and then pick with the right ungloved one.

It's not exactly mindless work. My eyes are always darting to the next bunch of ripe orbs. I keep picking, moving slowly around the patch. Too many big, beautiful berries to pick all from the same spot.

It's not exactly bucolic bliss. There are thorns, chiggers, ticks and Japanese beetles to battle. I think garter snakes like to rest up in the brambles, but I've not seen any this season. My hands and wrists are punctured and scraped. My nails are purpley-black. The sun can be broiling and the humidity unmerciful. Oh!, did I just discourage you from joining me?

But it is satisfying work. One by one I drop the sweet berries into my wooden bucket or plomp them into my mouth. The minutes go by, the bucket fills up.  One of us calls out to the other to see how we are doing and if we are ready to head in with our heaps of sweetnesses. An hour into the outing, we make our way back out to the path and head toward home.

We could pick a lot longer but then I'd have to figure out what to do with all the berries. I'd rather leave some for another time or another creature.

Once back in my kitchen, I spread the berries on baking sheets and pop them into the basement freezer for an hour or two. Once frozen, I pack gallon Baggies full of the berries, press out any excess air, and seal them up for use in the winter months to make blackberry crisp, muffins,  or smoothies. The ones I don't freeze, I turn into jam, put atop my granola, or eat fresh by the handful.

I'm headed to Louisville tomorrow and will pack up cartons of berries to share with friends...because, there's enough to share.

My favorite lunch

Ed had to go to town today for a meeting, so I puttered around in the garden and house. Before he left, he helped me dig up one row of garlic. It really is a two-person job. He digs, I pull.

At 1 p.m. I realized that I should figure out what we were going to eat for lunch. I found a jar of dried pasta in the pantry, put some water on to boil, and then headed out to the garden with basket in hand.

• I dug up two carrots. 
• Untangled two cucumbers from the climbing vine.
• Snipped off two tiny zuchinni and four tiny patty pan squash.
• Harvested the first of the cherry tomatoes.
• Pried one shallot from the earth.
• Gathered a handful of basil, dill and parsley.

Came back in and dumped the pasta into the salted boiling water. Mixed together some white wine vinegar, olive oil, a bit of honey and some salt and pepper. And then began chopping my way through my harvest. 

Ten minutes later, the pasta was al dente. I found a few crumbles of feta cheese in the fridge and added them to a bit of the pasta water to make a sauce. I divided the pasta between our two bowls. Then added the chopped vegetables and poured the vinaigrette on top. 

Voila. Lunch was ready just as Ed pulled back in the drive.