Tuesday, September 22, 2009, 04:37
Summer? Now?
After being cool all summer long, with highs during the day in the 70s (and a few times in the 60s), and lows at night in the 40s and 50s, we finally, now that fall is almost here, have summer.
The temperature has been in the mid to upper 80s for the last couple of weeks with lows at night between 60 and 70 degrees. Rather humid at times, too.
I am hoping that it stays warm long enough that maybe some of my squash can have enough time to ripen properly.
I planted the bush variety of acorn squash, and once they got a little rain in August, the bushes really went to town. They are still blossoming now, and they've got fairly good-sized squash that are working on getting ripe. It's just that they should have had squash set like that by the end of July, not by the beginning of September.
In spite of the warm spell, however, a flock of geese flew over Rural Route 2 this past week, headed south. The air temperature might be warm, but the length of the days is telling the geese it's time to move south.
I have heard the sandhill cranes this past week, too, flying overhead, their prehistoric sounding calls echoing across the hills and valleys. Just one or two though. They were not flying in a big group, circling, calling for the others to join them. That will come at a later point. But it is a beginning.
The days are substantially shorter, too. I hate to see that. Sunset is now about 7:15 and it is pretty much dark by 8 p.m. Very different than it is in June, when there is still light in the sky after 10 p.m.
Garden
My roma tomatoes, now that fall has nearly arrived, are getting ripe at a faster pace. They wanted warmer days and warmer nights, I think. I managed to pick enough of them to make four quarts of spaghetti sauce Sunday evening.
Sunday afternoon, I pulled my rutabagas. I ended up with one HUGE rutabaga that was at least six inches across and maybe eight inches long. It was just enormous. I peeled the rutabagas right out by the garden, tossed the leaves and the peelings back on the garden, and then I brought them in the house, cut them into chunks and boiled them for about five minutes. Then I cooled them off and sealed them in quart bags and froze them.
It was really a challenge to peel that great big one. I ended up cutting it into quarters to get it peeled. Surprisingly enough, it was good all the way through. No spots. Not hollow.
And it was then, after I started to peel it, that I noticed it was not yellow, like the other rutabagas. It was white.
The huge one was not a rutabaga -- it was turnip!
I noticed that some of the other "rutabagas" were white, too.
The only thing I can figure is that there must have been turnip seed mixed in with the rutabaga seed that I bought last spring.
I need to pickle the last of the beets in the garden, too. I froze quite a few packages of beets earlier. But now I need to get at pickling what's left. I love pickled beets. I like regular beets, too, for that matter. But there's just something special about pickled beets.
I don't know if my lima beans are going to make it, though. They, too, like the squash, sat there and did not do much of anything until we got some rain in August. The bushes have just now grown quite big, and they're really blossoming. They've got a few beans on them, but again, like the squash I don't know if they will mature or if the blossoms will have time to turn to lima beans before we get a hard freeze.
My purple pole beans are blossoming yet, too, and have lots little beans on them. And with any luck at all, I will be able to freeze some more of those. Not that I have too much room left in the freezer right now.
Drought
Even though it feels like summer at the moment, perhaps, with the changing of the season, will come a change in the weather pattern. After the rain in August, it is dry again. So for now, the six-year drought continues.
The county newspaper has been running letters to the editor complaining about the local lakes and how green they are and how bad they smell and calling for the city and the state legislature "to do something." They are convinced that it is "all the fault of the farmers" and solely caused by run-off from a huge watershed that covers nearly 2,000 square miles.
The lakes would not be nearly that bad if it was raining normally and flushing fresh water through them. The lakes are impoundments, the result of two rivers that have been backed up behind a hydroelectric dam. It seems to me that there is a certain segment of the population around here that is completely oblivious to the fact that we are in a severe drought.
Can it really be true that people are so far removed from what is going on around them in Nature that they have not noticed it has not rained or snowed normally for the last six years?
LeAnn R. Ralph
Monday, September 14, 2009, 20:36
Guest Speaker
I had the privilege last week on Wednesday of being the guest speaker at Central Lutheran Church's guest luncheon in Chippewa Falls.
Women from eight different churches in the area attended the luncheon. I did not do a head count or ask for one, but it seems to me there were between 50 and 60 ladies there. The parking lot was full, that's for sure!
I always enjoy speaking engagements. Audiences are so gracious, and when I ask for audience participation, they are willing to jump right in and join the conversation. I talked about growing up on a farm and writing my books and why I am writing my books. But most importantly, I asked people to share their stories about living or working on a farm. When I asked how many people had lived on a farm or had grown up on a farm, about two-thirds raised their hands. When I asked how many had visited someone who lived on a farm when they were growing up (grandma and grandpa or aunt and uncle), the other one-third raised their hands.
The conversation was lively and fun and informative. And then I made my main point. I talked about my book, "Preserve Your Family History (A Step-by-Step Guide for Interviewing Family Members and Writing Oral Histories)". I asked how many in the audience had been asked by children or grandchildren to write down some of their stories. Between one-third and one-half of them raised their hands.
I urged them to get their stories down in some form. Even if they only turn on a tape recorder and talk into it, they can always decide later what to do with the tape. Besides, years from now, someone will find it priceless to have them telling their stories in their own voices. I know I wish I had asked my mother and father to do that.
After all -- it's like I always say: Everyone DOES have a story to tell. Family stories are our history as a society, and they are the glue that holds us together as a civilization.
Interestingly enough, the next day, I got a call from the Chippewa County Genealogical Society to speak at one of their meetings.
I'm looking forward to it!
LeAnn R. Ralph