Well, the garden is finally up and growing. With our unusual spring, it has taken quite a bit of effort this year to plant the few rows in the postage-stamp plot where green beans, corn, cucumbers, okra and a couple of pepper and tomato plants are the featured crops.
Early in the spring, I tried the old spade-the-plot method but ill-timed rain and some aches I had never experienced before put an end to that. So, I fired up the old tiller - surprise of surprises it started. That about beat me to smithereens, so I decided to forego playing in the dirt this year as I turned an eye toward patronizing the Farmer’s Market ... but ... a niece and her husband showed up with his rear-tine tiller and made short work of the plot so I had no recourse except to proceed with the annual ritual of marking rows and, of course, trying to remember where I hid the fence charger and wire I use to try to foil the deer.
And this year, because of an unexpected and unusual gift, I was forced to build a fig pen.
I know, or should know, all the city regulations which regulate such things. Don’t get me wrong, even though I’ve never lived on a farm, I really relished building the pen. It’s the fulfillment of a dream I’ve had for many years.
Actually the pen is not big enough for a small pig. When I built it, I felt sure it would have to be increased in size so I planned for that. In fact, I’ve discovered there’s really much more involved than what I anticipated. What really brought this home to me was how much the little critter has grown. By the time you read this, I’ll have entered pen-phase two.
All the labor and pen-pampering is going to be worth it when, later this summer, I’ll be able to enjoy an oldtime farmer’s breakfast. Right now, I can almost taste the biscuits.
There is more to this story. As summer progresses, if the rains come at the right time and deer, groundhogs and coons can be foiled, there will be roasting ears, cucumbers, good old home-grown tomatoes, green beans and fried okra to be enjoyed. I know I’ll have to keep the hose handy. Remember last year?
Unfortunately, the pen is located beyond the reach of my garden hose, and since lots of hot summer days lie ahead, there will be plenty of trips with buckets of water as the little feller grows.
And so, sometime before frost, if I’ve done all the things an amateur farmer should do and nature has cooperated, I’ll finally be able to get rid of the pen. And then comes the harvest. Since I won’t do the “butchering” or the processing, which I would really mess up royally, I’m hopeful Louise will be able to make at least one little jar of fig preserves to slather on those breakfast biscuits.
Ah, such is the reward for being a fig farmer.
Epilogue: Many years ago I had a fig tree and enjoyed a few figs. Our sub-zero weather banished it to the brush pile. My thanks to Bob and Susan Santos of Bella Vista, who have success with fig trees. They graciously presented me with one of their “little feller” trees. By pampering it with much mulch, and even wrapping it with a blanket a couple of cold nights, it made it through the winter and through that record-breaking snow the third day of May. And now it’s showing signs of little figgies. Keep tuned in.
I repeat: Such is the reward for being a fig farmer.
Dodie Evans is the editor emeritus of the Westside Eagle Observer and may be contacted by email at [email protected].
Opinion, Pages 4 on 06/19/2013