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!

Mainely Maine

Maine was our home state before moving to California. We just spent a brief weekend there and visited with several friends who still live there: Heather, Aidan, Molly, Spike, Allison, and their three boys... And we didn't even make it half way up the state where the rest of our friends live.

The weather was beautiful which made Casco Bay and the city of Portland look stunning. We looked at each other and pondered whether we could live there... We entertained the idea for a brief moment before remembering the ice storms, the 6 month long winter, the fly season... But as you can see, the kids loved it on the beach.

And it sure was wonderful to see and be with our dear friends who still call Maine their home.

Fluff

Fluffernutter sandwiches: ah the memories of childhood.

Not a Thai childhood, mind you. No, this is a guest posting from the whitebread, Midwestern husband of Kit, this blog's artiste.


It was at the house of my grandmother, whom we visited every summer in upstate New York, that I first encountered some of the best comfort foods of childhood: white hots (the hot dogs of Rochester), clams casino, fried baloney sandwiches. And Fluff.

What is Fluff you wonder? Why, it's pure marshmallow goodness!

There were sceptics among the Vermont crowd, both children and adults. But Momo made me proud, as I knew he would. He ate his Fluffernutter as an open faced sandwich, and licked the Fluff off first before polishing off the remaining peanut butter.

We'll be having some more Fluffernutters next time we go to Vermont!

Dreamland

I caught her just as she was waking...


And him, not...

Wouldn't you want to be there, too?

A Dad's Story

It's Jim (aka Daddy)'s birthday today. What a difference it makes to have two little people help celebrate a special occasion. Before they came into our lives, we didn't give too much attention to our birthdays. You could even go so far as to say, we were not 'birthday people'.

Jim is a great Dad. Really, it's hard to ask for a better Daddy. Take this as an example. The other day, we visited the duckies at Codman Farm. Remember the adorable little creatures? Well, they are still adorable, albeit bigger than before. And what happens when you have little children with baby animals? They want to HOLD them, PET them, TAKE THEM HOME!

So what is a Daddy to do? He loves his children so much that when he had his chance, he scooped up one of the little ducklings so that the kids could pet one. What happened the few seconds after that was a bit of a blur. What I witnessed after I said "What are you doing??!!!!!!" was the mother duck (pictured above) with her full wingspan spread out as wide as possible in the air, right there, next to Jim's body. The kids screamed. I screamed. Jim dropped the duckling, and came over quickly to us. "What did she DO to you?" I inquired, still a bit shaken by the whole hubbub. "She KICKED me!" He said. And right away, Jim walked over to the very protective mother duck (who had calmed down and recruited her duckling back to the group) and apologized to her. Twice.

You can only imagine what came after this. "What happened, Mommy?" "Why did the duck kick Daddy, Mommy?" And so on, and so forth. We tried to come up with the best answers possible.

Well, even the best Daddy in the world makes mistakes. I think he learned from it, though, and more importantly, I hope the kids learned from that lesson, too.

Happy Birthday, Daddy. Thanks for trying to make us happpy! You are still the best Daddy in the whole world!

Sundae on a Sunday

The happy faces of two kids after their first brownie sundae, ever.

It won't be their last, either.

(And yes, we did help them. I was quite astounded at how big it was!)

Sun Loving Flowers

They speak for themselves!

Speckled Roman Plum Tomatoes

I am pretty sure that it is hotter here than it is in Thailand today (96F). Despite the heat, and humidity, a few stalls of farmers market in Harvard Square were ready to sell their produce. I promised myself not to buy too much stuff as I had to walk a long way. But when I saw these heirloom plum tomatoes, I could not resist. It was worth the sore arms and I am sure dinner tonight.

Hot Day Treats

It's hot here. And humid. The forecast for the next couple of days is 'just miserable'. That's the term that the newscaster used today on the radio. They don't even try to make the listeners feel good, say 'oh, it's going to be very summery!'. Another difference between East coast, West coast. People are frank here back East. Perhaps a little too frank.


So what else do we do on a hot hot day besides treating ourselves to ice cream and popsicles. The kids will miss these treats once the leaves start to turn and the snow flakes begin to fall. But then, I am sure we will move on to other yumminess.