Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
Those are some nice-looking tomato plants. And your raised garden over by my truck is really nice. You must be a Master Gardener judging from what you've got growing here.
This was from a Consulting Forester that had just emerged from the woods. Jill and I hired him to write an updated stewardship/management plan for the tree farm and after a morning walk with me and Her Highness (aka the blonde Lab) he spent the balance of the day transecting the property taking inventory and entering notes into something that looked all the world like a Tricorder from Star Trek.
I informed him that I was not the Master Gardener. Jill was. I was simply the keeper of the vegetables. As evidence of her mastery of gardening Jill entered flowers in the Door County Fair last weekend. And her Bachelor Buttons won First Place in the category of Centaurea cyanus. This is why she's the brains of the organization. And I'm the keeper of the veggies.
She did suggest that I should enter a selection of my fresh vegetables next year. Not only were my onions bigger, but my beets were too. And my green beans and red cabbages were better-looking than anything else entered. If I would make the effort to unearth some of my spuds I would likely have a lock on winning a prize in the garden vegetable class. We'll see about that next year. Maybe.
If there was a vegan in my household this individual would be living high-on-the-hog (metaphorically-speaking) right about now. The thing about growing your own vegetables is that they will mature on their own merry time regardless of my efforts to space the harvest over a manageable period of time. The consequence of which is I am inevitably faced with avalanches of fresh veggies spaced over unpredictable intervals.
In the picture above is a representative snapshot of one day's harvest. Clockwise - A sink-full of Blue Lake green beans, ten beautiful green peppers, four banana peppers and the sweetest broccoli north of Highway 10. Truth be told I only made my way through about a third of the bush beans. I know of a food pantry that's going to get a big canvas bag of fresh-picked beans in the next 24 hours.
One day's harvest. Like I said - it's just like an avalanche. I was up until after 10 PM tonight blanching and vacuum-packing green beans.
Something on the order of two-dozen cups of blanched green beans - from garden to freezer in about four hours. They are going to be awesome when the snow flies this winter.
Paradise in Vegan Ville.