You see this beautiful, large, oh-so-orange pumpkin? Well, tonight I cried over its demise. It was peach preserve night in the Goodman/Kosnik household. The last of the season were bought and brought home on Saturday. Mom sent me to the basement to retrieve the canning jars, and as I was downstairs, I grabbed onto the pumpkin to move it and the stem came off in my hand. I went to pick it up and it had become wet on its bottom. A pumpkin with a wet bottom is no good, people. We cut into it upstairs, to see if anything was salvageable. Alas, there was nothing that remained untouched by the pumpkin rot. In tears, I returned to the basement to bring up my very last hope. The very first pumpkin I accidentally picked was still in the basement, awaiting roasting. I brought it upstairs, and stood with bated breath as Mom cut into it. As I type this, that beautiful fruit is softening in the oven. All that work and I have one pumpkin to show. But I will make the greatest pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving and will absolutely give thanks for all the factors that led to its creation. That seems to be the theme of this summer on the farm. I, and those who so graciously have given their time along next to me, have worked and worked, only to find very small returns. The corn garnered 5 total kernels. Not 5 total cobs, but 5 individual kernels. Tears were shed on that night too. But I was able to dry at least 100 kernels of the black popping corn and will hopefully be able to have a small bowl of homegrown popcorn in the dead of winter. The potatoes we harvested were certainly more than we had put in the ground. In all honesty, though, it was not a lot more than we put in the ground. The squash that Steve Bay had planted has finally taken off...just as the frost is setting in. Perhaps we'll have harvested 2 of the butternut squash by this weekend. I think I only got five or six zucchini, certainly not enough to put away for the winter. The pumpkins were a delight to watch grow, but again, there was only one usable fruit by the end of the season. The greenbeans have given us a few meals, and of course I am grateful for that. Melons the size of a baby's head (the newborn kind) finally litter the ground. Only we won't be eating them, as I planted them too late and they will not be anywhere near ready by this weekend when the good Lord will be forcing me to harvest them. Of the 40 onions we started, only 2 remain.
The only crop that went according to plan was the soybean crop. Two weeks ago, my dad, myself, and the greatest migrant worker of all time (my mother) stripped clean the two rows, 60 feet long, of soybeans we had planted back in June. Upon their entrance into our house, we boiled, cleaned, and popped the pods of the little green wonder beans. We have in our freezer approximately 3 gallons of edamame. They are little beans, only 3 to a pod...if you're lucky. To have grown and processed 3 gallons worth feels like such an accomplishment.
And so what is it that I want to reflect upon as I make deals with God to stop the impending frost? I have learned quite a lot. I know many things that I will do differently next summer. I think I have figured out how to avoid several of the problems we ran into this year. We will continue to evaluate what worked, what didn't, and what we think we could try brand new next year. Besides which, I will have actual tilled soil next spring. My cousin Tim (awesome guy) has found a two-turn plow that will tear up the soil 8 inches deep. And, in another stroke of great fortune and proof that my life has finally found its path, he has asked if I could help him and plant a front acre at his place. I never would have dreamed back when this all started last January that I could be seriously planning two acres of land for next summer. The possibilities make me giddy. And even greater? I've been able to share this with so many people. I've been bringing tomatoes into work for students of mine. Including one kid who has to take the free lunch at school (which is all fried and makes her sick almost daily). Bringing her a tomato or a pepper or whatever else I can manage that is fresh and delicious makes her happy and healthier. And that makes me happy...such a simple thing to grow a tomato. And yet, it's gotten me so far. Lots of love, and thanks for staying with me through all of this.