Frog Log

Well, this is a goodbye to the berries kind of blog. And appreciating the help we had this year plucking myriad little flavor nuggets. As you can see from the photo, picking berries is a crawl on your knees, bend your back over, stick your nose in the foliage kind of proposition. Berries seem to nestle under their leaves, so it takes time and concentration to uncover the clusters of little treasures in the straw. Hours. And more hours. But what you can't see in the picture is that each one of those pickers has probably just eaten a berry or is just about to. The berry picking perks are oh so sweet and keep us going down those rows. Again. And again. Cool nights gave us a long and flavorful season. Hope you got some! p.s. Spike and his buddies cleaned up their last patch and hit the road on Saturday. They aren't so crazy about the warm weather on the horizon; they said they might be back in the Fall.

Yeah, Spike Spinach back. Frog Lady says I should write sumthin' about strawberries cuz all the food blogs is oohing and aahing about them these days. Well, she ain't so creative, I guess, but I s'pose I'll have to join the chorus...in my own way. Yeah, I'm happy to set the record straight on strawberries! Someone asked why they were so hard to grow. I'll tell you why - cuz the berries make it hard! Sheez - talk about prima donnas. They can't grow the same year you plant them - oh no, they have to be planted the year before. AND you have to feed them just right and at just the right time. If they don't like what you serve, they won't make much berries. But, right, you don't find that out til the next year. Talk about holdin' a grudge! And even though they make you plant them one year early, they don't like to go through the winter, I guess, cuz they demand to be covered! Sheez, talk about mixed messages. So the frog farmers get out th...

Yeah, Spinach back. You can call me Spike. We might as well be on a first name basis cuz it's lookin' like I'm gonna be around for a while. Frog Lady and me had a little talk after she found out I'd been postin' on her precious frog log. She don't make it here much so I figgered I could set the record straight on a thing or two. So whaddya know she actually shows up a coupla days ago and she sat there for hours - like she was writin' War and Peas or sumthin'. I thought I was in the clear but she got to the end and saw what I been up to -- guess that last picture of the spinach patch I posted was way bigger than the usual size. And hey, why not, the spinach has been awesome! Oops, I'm goofin' on our agreement. Seems the Frog Lady realized she could use a little help around here, so I'm gonna hang around - check some things out and report back. Only deal is I had to promise not to write so much about SPINACH! Sheez - alright alright. Even th...

What is wrong with this picture? Yes, one bowl contains bananas, the other morel mushrooms. The bowls are sitting next to each other on the same kitchen counter. So what's wrong with that? I'll let Barbara Kingsolver answer the question. Ms. Kingsolver, long a beloved fiction writer, has written a surprising bestseller titled Animal, Vegetable, Miracle , which depicts her decision, along with her husband and two daughters, to eat for one full year only food that is organically grown and locally produced, either nearby or from their own labor on their Appalachian farm. Here is an excerpt from an interview with Barbara Kingsolver, that appeared in the magazine, Shambala Sun, in July 2007. (Interviewer): What was the most difficult thing about eating locally for a year? Barbara Kingsolver: Everyone asks that, and I think the answer people expect is that it was really hard to give up some particular food, but it really wasn't. Our undertaking was to focus on what was new, what ...

Made it to the big city last Saturday, but it wasn't all it's cracked up to be. Like I put on my best darkest green coat and I knew I was lookin' mighty crisp. I don't want to brag or nothin' but folks do say I'm, um, tender, if ya know what I mean. But those city folks weren't gettin' it. They seemed so distracted - like nobody can focus on a little honest-to-goodness bag of greens. They were runnin' around with arm fulls of flowers - yeah, try eating a bloomin' daisy for lunch! Over at our stall it was plants plants plants. Nobody hardly looked at us. Course we was piled up in a box and stuck over in the corner while all the little plants with their cutesy-wutesy signs were spread out all over three stalls with five workers sayin' May I help you? all day. And I swear I saw those lettuce plants stuck out their tongues at me as they went by in somebody's flat - spoiled brats. Personally, I don't think those farmers know much a...

One year ago today, Tom, my writing pal and ready reader, sent me this. Why it didn't make the Frog Log cut, I do not know. One year later, it is still timely...and timeless. Thanks, Tom! Frog Log 22 May 2007 Valencia I leave Frog Holler Farm after a few hours of marking plants in preparation for sale at the Ann Arbor Farmer's Market. Each tomato plant has its own wooden stick, hand written with its name, an heirloom, a cherry, or a big firm tasty variety: Roma, Striped German, rose, Brandywine , Muscovic, celebrity, volcove, Valencia . "So many," I think, "Amish to zebra." I remain amazed mentally viewing countless trays, each one hand planted from tiny seedlings, each plant watered, and coaxed to growth without chemicals, each seedling warmed chilly nights in the greenhouse by the fire of oak dead-fall, hauled from the woods in a burdened trailer behind a burdened tractor, burned fragrantly and faithfully in an ancient slab-woo...

Yah, spinach here. That frog lady is away so I thought I would take my chance. She's probably off mooning over her precious lettuce -- ooh, look at the seeds! Ooh, look at the leaves! Ooh, see how they grow! Gimme a break!I guess I'd grow too if someone warmed my tush on a lah-de-dah germinating mat! Or transplanted me into "hand-mixed, composted growing medium"! Or personally carried me to the garden and literally tucked me in. And then covered me so I didn't catch a nasty-wasty cold. Sheez -- what a bunch of wimps! You don't see all that fussin' over at the spinach patch. Nah, they just scratch out a row, throw some seeds in, and run back inside cuz it's cold . Seems like it's usually just before the last snow. That's right I said, snow. But we don't mind -- spinach can take it. We been up for a long time. No cheerin', no parades. Just spinach doin' it's spring thing. A little rain, a little hail, a little snow -- bring it...