Fruitfulness

Although we have not had any rain for a month, the gardens and orchard are fruitful.  The plum tree is bearing for the first time.  The plums are not the big things one can buy at the store, but the sweetness is beyond compare.  I am so thankful that the electric company spared the plum tree when they ravaged our trees and the orchard.  I am having to beat the squirrels to the fruit; they tend to take more than their share.  But I don't want to pick the plums too soon.  They are so much better when left to ripen on the tree. 

The garden is starting to produce too.  The sugar snap peas are almost done bearing, and as the heat is beginning to set it, the vines will soon dry up.  But the green beans, squash, peppers and tomatoes are thriving in the heat.  Last year it was too hot for the beans to bloom or pollinate, but this year we have lots of young beans already on the vines.  We should have our first mess with some new potatoes this week.

Last night everything on the table came from the garden or from the local farmers.  We had a delicious meatloaf (The eggs in the meatloaf were local and the milk was regional. Only the oatmeal was from an unknown origin.)  Roasted new potatoes from the garden with onions and carrots from the farmers market.  Corn that was raised locally last summer that I shucked and froze was still yummy and fresh tasting.  The salad greens were from the garden along with the snap peas and radishes.  The carrots and tomatoes were from the farmers market.  The hamburger for the meatloaf was raised locally.  I've visited the farm, and they are happy, grass raised cows whose meat has more omega 3 than fish.  It was a lovely, tasty meal. 

That is the best part of summer.  The eating is soooo good and soooo fresh! 

Grandma's Meatloaf
1 pound of ground beef
1 package of dry onion soup
1 egg

Mix these together.

Add:  old fashioned oatmeal --- just enough to help bind the meat.  I use about 1/4 to 1/3 cup.  Mix. 
Add:  Milk until the meat is moist and everything sticks together.  Do not add too much milk; add a little at a time.  I add about 1/2 to 3/4 cup depending on how much oatmeal I have used.   The leaner the meat the more milk you may need to add.  You know you have the right amount of mile when you form a ball of meat and it is just a bit sticky. (Milk tenderizes the meat, but too much will ruin the meatloaf.)

Form the meat into a ball and place in a 9X7 oven proof pan. Press the ball into a loaf shape.  Top with catsup. (Sometimes I add green pepper slices as a topping too).  Bake at 375 degrees for about an hour.  Remove from the pan and place on a platter and let it sit for 5 minutes, then slice and enjoy.

Reading Blackberry Leaves

Some people say they can see the future in tea leaves.  I can see the future in the blackberry bushes. The blackberries are in full bloom, and some even have tiny green berries showing the promise of big juicy berries in a few weeks.  The berry patch is full of butterflies greedily sucking the blackberry nectar.  Later the birds will try to beat me to the succulent berries.  They don't know that they will have to compete with a grandson who will inhabit the patch when he is here stuffing the big black berries into his mouth.  This time of year, he begins to make his way to the patch on every visit to see if they berries are ready.  There will be enough for the grandson to eat while they are warm and juicy and for the birds and for a sugary cobbler.  Right now the berries are just a promise, but I can see the future in the blossoms.

Honeysuckle

I become intoxicated every time I go outside these days.  The honeysuckle is blooming, and the heady, intoxicating  scent is almost overpowering.  If you have never smelled drifts of wild honeysuckle, you are missing one of the loveliest scents in the world.  How can I describe the smell?  It is not as citrus as magnolia, but more so than lilac.  Perhaps it is more like a lemony rose.  The scent blocks out every other smell.  It takes you to another realm.  And this wonderful scent keeps me from pulling out all of the invasive honeysuckle vines. The vines are as bothersome and mischievous as the scent is romantic.  The vines  entwine themselves around anything- fences, trees, shrubs, buildings.  They suffocate whatever they grow on.  The sheer mass of the vines can take down a fence or a building.  The vines overpower their surroundings.  The scent is just as overpowering, but it is so sweet and so pleasant, I am willing to submit to the fragrance every spring when the honeysuckle blooms.