Nobody likes to say good-bye, but today I must do just that. My editor, Rhonda, is moving on, pursuing other activities, and for the first time in a long time, probably won’t be worrying about deadlines.
For the past 17 years, I’ve e-mailed my columns to Rhonda but that will end with this column. After this, I will be sending them to a new editor.
I never worried my columns would be criticized. Never worried they’d be changed. Never worried. Over the many years, Rhonda made one or two suggestions having to do with a title or some other inconsequential matter but was always accepting and grateful.
The only time I completely forgot my deadline, she called and quietly but firmly let me know that she needed something. I checked my file, but no viable re-prints, no emergency columns. Nothing. It was my bad, and I knew it.
But Rhonda’s a patient person and together, we worked things out. I got a column written, and all ended well.
Feeling sadness at her leaving, I also feel happiness at her chance to pursue new avenues for her many abilities. So, farewell my friend. Hope you like this week’s column.
Harvest time is here…
Gardening is fun in the spring… gentle April rain (Okay, sometimes snow)… warm May sunshine…long sunlit hours in June…Nesting birds twitter and flit in the newly greened trees.
But slowly as the earth turns, spring turns into autumn, and it’s time to gather the harvest. This is the not-as-fun part. First to ripen are the sugar snap peas. I pick. We eat. I pick. We eat more. I keep picking as the vines keep producing.
Finally, when it is undeniably clear that we can’t eat them all, I blanch and freeze a healthy number of pea pods. Won’t have to worry about stir-fry ingredients all winter.
Next comes the garlic. Better get that dug up although it’s only early August. I lug out the shovel and sure enough, the long garlic stems have fallen over, turned yellow. I dig up the row, and get a pretty good yield.
Drying garlic is a distinct pain, but I grab a few old Cook County News Herald issues, find a flat space in the guest room and set the bulbs down to dry. Okay, the basement smells a bit funny, but hey, it’s fresh garlic.
Suddenly my one and only zucchini plant decides to reproduce. I pick half a dozen zucchinis and throw them in salads. Just as I’m thinking about making zucchini bread, thankfully, the plant decides to quit.
September rolls onto the scene, and the fun part of harvest begins—an activity more rewarding than a treasure hunt— digging up potatoes.
Dick pushes the spade, I pull the plant and together we unearth big beautiful, fresh potatoes. It’s always a gamble. One plant is a disappointment. Digging the next plant brings up five large Kennebec’s. It’s impossible to predict until the sight of a smooth potato skin peeks through the soil.
By the time we finish all three potato patches and get crops stored, I know I’m going to be making a whole lotta potato salad and potato soup over the next few months.
Although this is the last Over the Hill column that I have the privilege of reading first, I will be editor of the Cook County News-Herald for one more issue. Thanks and best wishes, Joan!
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