The Minnesota Farm Woman

Most of the garden is underwater for the third time this summer. When not underwater, it is impossible to tend to the garden, because anyone walking anywhere except around the perimeter risks being sucked into a muddy abyss. This is not the time for complaining, whining, or ranting…at least not much, anyway. This old Farm Woman did enough of that over the long snowy winter. It is summer. Did you hear me, Mother Nature? SUMMER. You know what I’m talking about: Warmth, sunshine, and the back of one’s neck feeling a little dirty and gritty. There are some good things happening, however, during this monsoon season. 1) It is not winter. 2) If I can’t get into the garden, I don’t have to weed it. 3) I don’t have to haul three lengths of pieced-together hose to water the garden, and better yet, I don’t have to roll it back up again. When we first moved here, we rescued two old wringer-type washing machines from the trash pile. HE wanted to haul them to the dump, but I love to find other purposes for old junk, so we moved them to the south wall of the house, filled them with dirt, and they became herb gardens. Something that I’ve learned this rainy summer is that herbs love cool wet weather and they are thriving. Rather than snipping a few here and there for seasoning, I am carrying them in by the bucketful, with some of the basil leaves being almost as big as my hand. Since I can’t control the weather, I decided to have a “wait and see” attitude about the rest of the garden. In the meantime, I’ll make lots of pesto, drink iced tea with fresh mint, and for once in my life, cook with as much fresh parsley as I want. The strawberries, beneath their weedy disguise, went unnoticed by the woodland creatures who usually nibble on them, and for the first time ever, I have harvested more than a handful. I really don’t much care for that dirty and gritty feeling on the back of my neck anyway, but I sure do love the taste of fresh strawberries, eaten out of hand while standing in the garden. The added danger of teetering at the edge of a muddy abyss only makes them taste sweeter.