Foodie Friday: Enjoying Harvest Season

As the farmer's market season winds down, we are gifted with abundant farm fresh produce. The produce vendors at the market are overflowing with fresh produce. There is sweet corn, apples, grapes, pears, root vegetables, fresh greens, and a plethora I haven't touched upon. It's a lovely time of year at the farmer's market. This time of year, we are often gifted fresh produce or barter with our vendor friends in exchange for fresh produce for soap. I enjoy bartering.

This week, we have enjoyed simple meals made from fresh produce from the market. We have had BLTs with Yarnick's sweet corn, grilled chicken salads made with greens from Star Crossed Naturals, and fresh tomato sandwiches made with the sweetest green tomatoes I have ever eaten. We have also enjoyed fresh sourdough bread and delicious white bread from Mediterra Bakery. I bought the sweetest, juiciest apples from JP's Produce. Of course, we must have cheese from our friends at Pleasant Lane Farms. It's easy to come up with quick, delicious meals when gifted with such fresh, tasty food.

My gentle suggestion this week, instead of a recipe, is to enjoy the season's bounty. Support your local farmers by buying farm-fresh produce directly from the grower. The grocery store offers nothing compared to what these hard-working, knowledgeable individuals offer from their local farms. If you live in our area, there are a variety of local farm stands to support. Yarnick's Farms offers the sweetest sweet corn, fresh produce, locally raised beef, and canned goods. Lone Oak Farms has a beautiful store that offers fresh dairy products (including the best chocolate milk ever) and locally raised meats and produce. Look for little farm stands along the country roads selling fresh, free-range eggs, flowers, and produce. Often, these little stands offer the most delicious varieties grown by families and garden enthusiasts. You might also be supporting a child's college fund, funding a missionary trip, or helping a little one save enough money to purchase their first pony. I prefer to support local families rather than feed Walmart's bottom line.

Now more than ever, our small farms and family farms need your support. It's not only better quality food raised with integrity; it's also supporting individuals in our community. On this lovely September day, enjoy the bounty of the season, support your local farm families, eat simply and fresh, and keep washing your hands.

The 'ber Months Are Here

It is the fifth day of September, and I could not be more thrilled. I love the 'ber months: September, October, November, and December. This time of year is my absolute favorite. I love the cooler temperatures, changing leaves, autumn harvests, everything pumpkin spice, and sweater weather. I live for the 'ber months. For the rest of the year, I am merely putting in the time until the 'ber months arrive. September is just the beginning. It is the prelude to the holidays. In September, we are given the opportunity to prepare for the upcoming whirlwind of months filled with activity, fall festivals, holiday celebrations, and the grand finale, Christmas. I do indeed love the 'ber months.

I feel most myself in the fall, with its moody days, chilly nights, and days filled with bright sunshine, colorful leaves, and cool evenings. My creativity always runs higher in the fall, and our farm offers endless inspiration. The sights, scents, and sounds of nature during the autumnal season are my favorite. The crickets sing in the evening, Canadian geese fly overhead calling to one another as they prepare to migrate for the winter, the squirrels scurry about collecting hickory nuts and acorns for the upcoming winter, the deer graze in the fields, and the owls are more vocal at night. The leaves will soon put on their yearly display of autumn regalia. The maples and hickory trees are my absolute favorite, with their bright yellow leaves. The air takes on a crisp scent filled with freshly mown hay, damp earth, falling leaves, and sweet pears. I wish I could bottle that scent and carry it with me all year.

We settle into a comforting routine during the 'ber months. The days are shorter, dinner time is earlier, and the early nightfall offers longer hours of reading, movie watching, and the occasional board game. We turn to warm, filling meals of comfort food. The 'ber months are also soup season months in our home—some of us like soup more than others. Despite the unpopular belief that soup is not a meal, we have soup once a week or so during the 'ber months. I find nothing more comforting than a large pot of soup on the stove, a loaf of crusty bread, a crisp salad, and hot tea. Add a good book, a blustery night, and chilly temperatures; it is autumnal perfection.

I have a reading agenda for this fall and winter. I intend to purchase and read all the L.M. Montgomery books before spring. Ann of Green Gables is my perfect fall read, but L.M. Montgomery wrote many other novels, poems, and short stories: Emily of New Moon, Rilla of Ingleside, Jane of Lantern Hill, and Pat of Silverbush, to name a few. I'm excited to begin this reading journey. Perhaps The Bean will join me and fall in love with L.M. Montgomery like I have. I enjoy sitting by the fireplace while the leaves fall and the wind blows, reading a good book, and drinking a warm cup of tea. My friends from Broken Locust, Pat and Sherrie, create the perfect autumn blend of tea that is so delicious it doesn't need honey or sugar. I plan to stock up at our Fall at the Farm event on October 19th.

Soon, the farmer's market will be filled with brightly colored mums, pumpkins, and fall floral arrangements. My porch will also be filled with pumpkins that will be turned into jack-o-lanterns and colorful mums. The fall decor will soon be displayed, and we will sit on the porch in the evenings, covered with soft blankets and a whiskey neat or a warm cup of tea. I need to buy some Apple Crown Royal in honor of my dad. A bottle lasts for years but is a sentimental nod to my dad's memory. It's a liquid hug.

Relish September, dear reader. It is the quiet prelude to the upcoming busy holiday season. Enjoy the fall festivals, break out the cozy sweaters, drink the apple cider, eat the pumpkin bread and apple fritters, enjoy the autumn symphony nature performs each night, cozy up with a good book, and relish the long evenings. It's the perfect time of year.

On this lovely September day, stay safe, be smart, enjoy the 'ber months and all they offer, and keep washing your hands. Unfortunately, the 'ber months often offer up cold and flu season, so wash those hands frequently.

September Man Blog

The yellow bus season has begun. This year was a bit rough for me, seeing my little buddy head off. This summer, she has spent more time in the shop and has been a tremendous help. We work well together. Thankfully, this time of year brings about the end of the dry season. This year has been exceptionally dry. Our rotation for the goat pastures was off this year. Usually, once they are moved to a new section, I will mow the old section to knock down what they won't eat and help what they do eat grow back. It was so dry I was afraid I would do more harm mowing.

The days are getting shorter, and the local fair season has begun. We have been dragged to the fairs because we are nothing more than a taxi service now. It has been a struggle for the early bedtime to work out. We have officially become old enough to "people watch." My goodness, there is no better place to take visitors to the sites than a county fair. If a guy who spends every day in bibbed overalls sees something wrong with your outfit, there is an issue. I know that when I see a bull or a pig with a ring in the middle of its nose, it is either rooting too much or a problem. I have been told repeatedly that I am not allowed to ask the nose ring folks if they have a rooting problem. I am not talking about a little speck of something shiny on the side of the nose. I am noticing what appears to be a slightly smaller bull ring hanging between the nostrils. Of course, the rings are always black and seem like a giant wad of nose hair. I can't relay the message that, soon enough, things will grow from your nose that you don't want. When I was younger, the folks who worked at the carnivals were the ones who had the crazy piercings and tattoos covering most of their bodies. Now, the amount of ink has switched. I can't help but wonder if the carnival workers tell each other to be careful with these folks. They seem rough.

I couldn't help but notice the dwindling number of young kids going to the local fairs. Forty-Three. Forty-three is the exact age that I got to before I turned into the "Kids these days" old guy. A few of the ones that were at the fair still really weren't there. They were getting pictures for social media. Fairs were a big deal when I was younger. You were unsupervised as long as you had a friend and checked in on the hour every hour. Now, to specify. The hour meant we arrived five minutes early at the designated meeting point. We stayed at said meeting point until an adult showed up. If the adult never showed up, we waited for the ambulance to rescue us from dehydration and made them promise to write a note about why we were not where we were supposed to be. By unsupervised, I mean that your parents didn't have their own eyes on you. But by God, back then, every parent who knew your family would not hesitate to step in as a parent if you got out of line. That wasn't the worst. You would end up corrected by a friend's parent. Only to have your parents still feel the need to do their duties. Now, heaven forbid that someone should think about raising their voice at a feral child. They are just expressing themselves as individuals, after all. It isn't the fact that the kids thought they were in the right. They weren't embarrassed; they were called on for bad behavior. Real life, not a screen, happened to them, and they were frightened by human interaction.

I can say I feel a bit long in the tooth after having an outing off the farm. The new generation has grown up watching shows about voting off an island and discussing feelings. I miss the days when tennis ball cannons and in-your-face steroid use from a gladiator named Nitro did the talking. The world needs more American Gladiators. Did the buck fifty librarian named Stanely make you think the world was fair when he was roid-raged over by Thunder? Not for all of the long-term injuries that show caused. It gave the little guy hope that one day they will get their ass kicked hard enough they win. It taught me that life isn't fair. Again, keep getting your ass kicked, and just maybe, you will win. Now, a bunch of people go camping and have to have competitions to vote to dwindle the numbers down to one. Why that show doesn't have some muscle-bound morons hunting the contestants down with tennis ball guns is way out of my pay grade.

Swiping Right, Adderall, and Tic Toc have replaced sex, Drugs, and Rock-n-Roll. The only new version of anything that is any good these kids have brought to the table is talking. If my understanding is correct, talking is basically what happens when you are just about dating. A dating engagement that may or may not work out. So far, I think, really, really dumb. So they basically just named something precisely the action that it is. We did the same thing when I was a kid; we talked. We didn't have to call it talking because people weren't complete morons. We didn't wear bike helmets. Our fast food growing up sat under a heat lamp for hours before getting stuck in Styrofoam. We still had the sense not to make up stupid phrases. Talking is possibly the stupidest wording I have ever heard. The good part is when the talking is over. It seems that the words, I am done talking to you is perfect. These two meanings work together perfectly. Our almost dating is done, and the discussion is over. I have been told that it doesn't work that way. I believe more research is needed. I want to give these kids a win, and so far, this is all I have.

We went through the suffering of calling someone's house. You hoped the line wasn't busy and the person you wanted to talk to answered. Nothing was worse for a kid than an adult who just wanted to chat as a form of making a child suffer. It had to be a highlight for adulting. They knew we didn't want to talk. They knew that we had to be polite. They also knew why we called, and after the better part of half an hour of being polite, they could say you just missed them. Adults could pick up any other phone in the house, listen in to entire conversations, and then say, oh, is someone on here as if they just picked up the phone. We heard you sneeze, Barb; we knew you were listening in. It was a game changer when we got our hands on cell phones. We could call directly or shoot off a text if they were busy. Now, it is too much effort to type out a complete phrase. I don't mean replacing are with R. I mean, it is all random letters in their smooshy head gibberish. NGL, it drives me up a wall. We celebrate any form of the word there even being used; even if it is wrong, at least it is a word. EIIIWALIIAW as I always say…

Until next month, stay safe and wash on.