Watermelon Day

We were treated to the Watermelon Field at Blue Heron today. The kids had never seen watermelon in the field before. And Momo used to not really care to eat it, but look at him now! Ellery broke one open right there at the field. It was amazingly sweet.


We harvested a bunch of different kinds of watermelon. The kids helped arrange them in the back of the truck (which we got to ride on). Momo and Joe had a little game going. It was another fun and beautiful day on the farm!

Fun

Can you tell I am liking my new camera? It means more postings with more photos! I hope you are enjoying them.

Late Summer

The sun sets earlier now. The light is softer in the late afternoon. The air is cooler. The squirrels are gathering acorn for the winter. Even without any fall leaves on the trees (which there are), we can tell that summer is coming to an end.

Dandelion Seeds

We found them before the wind blew them away.


On the way to gymnastics class this morning.

Faces

Early Birthday Present

To myself...


I don't know if it's apparent. But with the previous camera, I could not take this kind of photos with this quality.


I am still playing around with it.


The lucky girl that I am.

North End

A subway train ride to 'Little Italy' of Boston, known here simply as the 'North End', was our adventure today. Not that the kids could tell the Italians from the Chinese, but we were determined to at least show them a part of Boston that is uniquely, well, Boston.


Unknowingly, we stumbled on a street fair in honor of St. Anthony. Many stalls selling traditional Italian foods lined the narrow streets:cannoli , pizza, pasta, Italian sausages and Italian sodas. Of course, we are still in America, and street fair is equivalent with fried foods. Here was our opportunity to introduce our kids to the ubiquitous fried dough! The kids loved it, and renamed it 'sweet pizza' as they munched down the scrumptious triangular pieces.


Surprisingly, we didn't stop at a gelatoria today (I only went in to take a photo). Instead, we had a lovely meal at the Daily Catch restaurant. It was lovely except for when Claire choked on a piece of Calamari tentacle. Well, she wasn't literally choking as her face was still red, and she was breathing. Panic was more like it. Imagine a piece of food stuck between your mouth and your throat for the first time in your life. Poor thing. She declared after the incident that she didn't want to eat squid ever again.


We all recovered after the event. Claire actually tried another piece of calamari, chewing it 100 times before (not) swallowing it.


Feeling full, and cultured, we hopped back on the subway for home.

Book to Read

I don't finish a book cover to cover too often. Even less often now with children. But I am approaching the back cover of this one, so there must be a good reason for it.

Barbara Kingslover, the author of this book, had a mission with her family: to live for a year off their land, almost completely. They grew most of the food they needed for the year in their garden, ate it, stored it, learned from it. I hope someday to be fortunate enough to be able to accomplish such a challenge.

We had friends in Maine who practically lived this way, all the time (or at least when we knew them 10 years ago). The husband, Tom, built their house from scratch, literally using the rocks and stones from the land to build the foundation of the house. His job was to grow their food, barter from neighbors, and forage for wild or unwanted fruits and vegetables off the land. His wife, Eileen, a family doctor, was the bread-winner, the financial liaison for the family who only worked enough hours to support the family's needs for health insurance, clothing, and maybe salt and sugar. She needed the rest of the time to raise their one daughter, and help Tom in his ventures.

One memorable night in their home, after touring their incredible garden, we sat around the harvested bounty in their kitchen. It was early fall, the apex of the harvest season. Tom and Eileen were at their busiest. Like little animals trying to store away food for the winter, they, too were shelling beans, canning tomatoes, grinding grains into flour (I kid you not). The meal served to us that night was utterly home-grown and home-made, except for the few grains of salt that went into seasoning (and they didn't use much). After the meal, we participated in the bean shelling as we listened to Tom telling us about how he built the house, and how one day Eileen stumbled on it during her walk in the woods, and how they fell in love.

In some ways, reading Kingslover's book isn't as much fun as listening to Tom's stories. But perhaps what the book is doing for me is reminding me of that sense of awe I had for Tom and Eileen's life, their dedication and willingness to be self-sufficient and living off the land, using their own sweat.

In this day and age, it is impressive enough for one to have a garden, let alone a garden that can feed a whole family for a whole year. Kingslover went as far as to raise her own meats: chicken, turkey, and the like. I don't know if I could go that far. If we ever succomb to this kind of challenge, we will have to be vegetarians for the year (or have a fish pond). Go read the chapter on the meat 'harvest' and you will know what I mean!

Lesson of the Day

Momo has been wanting to pick eggplants since a few days ago. I don't think he has ever eaten one. And today, I found out that he didn't even know what it looked like. When we went down to the rows of eggplants to harvest some, he found some peppers in a different row and asked if he could pick them. I showed him the right plants to look at, and this is what he finally picked. Eggplant. Aubergine to some people. Now he knows.

Market Day

Blue Heron has a stand at a couple of farmer's markets in the boston area: one in Lexington, and the other in Davis Square. So this morning was all about picking and preparing produce and flowers for the market. I got to the farm as the fog was lifting. Ellery was out there with two other helpers. When she saw me she had a huge smile on her face (she usually does) and said, this is what I call heaven! Not me, per se, but all the helpers in the field at the same time! I went right to work picking tomatoes, digging for potatoes, and making bouquets. One of the helpers was a young man named Joe. He is heading out to his first year of college this fall. Have you worked on a farm before, I asked through the tomato vines. Nope, never, he said. But there he was, picking away, getting his hands dirty. It is funny that while we were getting dirty, we were also producing such beautiful bounty. The produce and the flowers sat so beautifully in the back of Ellery's truck waiting to be taken away to the market, and then hopefully, on to someone's kitchen and belly.

Better than a Playground

The kids got dirty today at Blue Heron, and a whole lot more. They found field mice in the potato patch, caught a grasshopper in the flower labyrinth, tasted (red) carrots fresh from the field, and most importantly, they were helpful!

We spent all morning there. The fresh air and the activities tired them out so well that Momo took his first nap in many days.

See, you don't get all of that from a playground alone.

Peter Yarrow

Somehow I have passed on my liking of the song 'Puff the Magic Dragon' to my children. We got the new illustrated children's book recently and have learned all the lyrics by heart. So when we found out that the author of the song, Peter Yarrow, as in Peter Paul and Mary, was coming to town, we jumped at the chance.

Having grown up in Thailand, and being not the most musical of people, Peter Yarrow is somewhat a mystery to me. But when a older man walked out of a limousine-like vehicle in front of Brattle St Theatre today, I knew who he was. He walked straight to us, saying how glad he was to see us. You must be Peter, I said. Yes, he said, as he bent down to kiss Momo, Claire and gave me a hug. I wish I could say that he only did that to us, but indeed, he continued down the queue greeting others in the same manner before disappearing backstage.


We waited a while longer before being let inside. The room became very animated once Peter came out to sing. He sang a few other songs before getting to Puff. Why was Puff sad at the end, he asked the audience. And who answered in the loudest and cutest voice? My daughter! Puff was sad because the boy didn't come to play with him anymore!!! Who said that, Peter asked into the audience. I lifted Claire up to show him who it was. Will you come on the stage please, because I have something to show you! Claire reluctantly agreed. But of course she couldn't go alone, and of course, neither she or her brother would walk up there alone. So this was what happened: I carried them, one in each arm, onto the stage. Remember: we are talking about Brattle St. Theatre, let alone Peter Yarrow on the stage with us. So we got there, my arms were about to fall off, and Peter put the microphone near Claire and asked her to answer the same question again. Did she talk? Nope. Did Momo? Nope. We courteously left after a few more tries. Welcome to the world of three-year olds, and our 2 minutes of fame.

The kids do not realize the significance of what happened during those moments, but I will be sure to remind them of it when they are older. But one thing is for sure, Puff the Magic Dragon will remain one of their favorite childhood songs, perhaps forever. And we have Peter Yarrow to thank.

Try here to search and listen to Puff by Peter Yarrow.

My First Day

If you think you are paying too much for a pint of cherry tomatoes, rest assured that you are not. I can attest to that fact after having picked 8 of them today. It took me one hour to pick tomatoes just to fill eight pints. These were very small cherry tomatoes, mind you, but still, everyone of these little morsels had to picked by hand, by someone that is not you (when you buy it from a farm stand, or a grocery store). But was it fun? Yes, it was. It was an hour of peace and tranquility. It was an hour of being with myself and the bees and one of the best fragrances of summer, uninterrupted.


Ellery also assigned me to pick flowers and make bouquets for the farm stand. It was like telling a kid to go to a candy store. I loved it. I loved the picking, the bunching, the making of the bouquets. It is amazing how flowers can make a place come to life. Just a few vases around the produce transformed the farm stand into a rather magical spread. A couple customers actually bought the bouquets I made: instant gratification! And I didn't even get paid. It goes to show that money is not everything.


What else did I get to do? Dug. I got to dig into such fertile soil to find potatoes. This is yet another little factoid that most consumers don't think about when they are picking out pounds of potatoes for their dinner. From a small scale farm like Blue Heron, each potato is dug by hand (no machines involved). And let me tell you, sometimes it feels like digging for gold, because some potatoes hide, and some rocks look and feel like potatoes. If you ever get a chance to dig for potatoes, I recommend that you do. It's fun, it's satisfying, and it gives you an appreciation for the little farms like Blue Heron that dig.


Three hours on the farm flew by. And I already look forward to my next visit to Blue Heron.

Blue Heron

I have found another gem.

And I will get to be part of it. Imagine that!

This gem is called Blue Heron Organic Farm. Located on a piece of conservation land in Lincoln, Massachusetts. The farm is owned and operated by Ellery Kimball who happens to be my high school classmate.

I have driven past the farm a million times before without stopping, both as a high school student and now as a returnee to the area. It's a relatively small farm, situated right next to a train track, not far from Walden Pond (or Dairy Joy). It is one of the few farmstands in the area selling organic produce, and a pick-your-own vegetable and flower garden (now do you see why I am calling it a gem?).

Ellery took over the farm 7 years ago, and has been operating it ever since. She grows over 50 varieties of produce, not including the labyrinth of flowers and herbs that alone is a piece of art. The produce is sold at several farmers' markets and to several high-end restaurants in the Boston area. Having gone to school with this woman, I must say I am very proud of her.

Farmers are completely underappreciated, even more so than teachers, in my mind. Without them, life would be very boring, and rather malnourished. They work day and night, from dawn to dusk, in rain or shine. They do magic with tiny seeds that with soil, sun, and water, become a living farm. They allow us to put food on the table, several times a day. You must agree with me that they should be much more appreciated, let alone, better paid.

I reconnected with Ellery serendipitously a few days ago as I was having coffee and reconnecting with yet another high school friend (who is also an acupuncturist). The three of us talked briefly, during which time it came out that Ellery is a farmer. I am serious, she said, as she stuck out her hands and feet to show us the weathered, calloused, vein-popping extremitities. I looked up her farm right away, and saw that she is always looking for volunteers. Well, guess what? I have a date with the farm tomorrow morning while the kids are in school!

This afternoon, I took Jim and the kids there for a little sample of what this farm offers. The kids got to pick cherry tomatoes ripe off the vines. Momo, who never cared too much for fresh tomatoes, was gobbling them up by the handful. Here's a way to teach kids how to eat vegetables - take them to the source! Then we picked flowers in that dream-like labyrinth. Claire was shivering with excitement. She was also running away from bugs and bees. Did they sting you, I asked. No, but they are flying around, she said. Well, honey, if you want to pick flowers, the bugs and bees come with the package. She grudgingly accepted, as she tiptoed around the bushes for more flowers.


I will be getting dirty tomorrow. And I can't wait!

Wellesley

Something about the Gothic builidings and those very 'Wellesley' street lamps took me right back to my college days. The collegiate feel and the intellectual aura that embody the campus made me want to pick up a (text) book, find a cozy nook in the library, put my feet up, and become a student again.

Maybe one of these days I will disguise myself as a student and go do just that. I know I will blend right in with the rest of the student body... if I don't bring the kids with me!