The orchard had two crates of Gold Rush in the cooler. They ripened only in the last week, and are predictably firm and tart. Something to hold in storage until the Red Delicious from our tree are finished. I bought a dozen.
Developed in partnership between Purdue University, Rutgers University and the University of Illinois in the 1970s, Gold Rush is known for its late maturing, fruit quality and long storage ability. When they come in, the season is over. A marker in the circle around the sun.
LAKE MACBRIDE— Intermittent rain fell throughout yesterday. Fallen leaves were dampened, and for a while, runoff flowed in the ditch. Apples clung to the tree, waiting another day to be picked.
We needed rain, but then we didn’t as crops stood in the field drying before harvest. It was a writer’s day, one for gathering material. Today will be the crafting of stories—a rarified trip into the imagination to produce more tangible results.
There are two hard parts about writing.
The first is finding meaningful venues. My process began with keeping a journal, writing letters to the editor, and commenting on a local radio station. When I look back at this work from the 1970s, it was raw, and rough, and in many cases, stylistically challenged. But there were venues, and I made something of them.
My first article outside public forums was written after a trip to Belgium and published in the newsletter of the Center for Belgian Culture of Western Illinois. I published a series of three articles after a vacation while serving in the U.S. Army in Europe, the first appearing on Nov. 27, 1977. A friend who was editor patiently waited as I drafted, typed and mailed the copy from my apartment near the Mainz railway station. As busy as I was in a mechanized infantry battalion, it is a wonder these articles were even produced.
My current work appears here, on Blog for Iowa, and in three newspapers for whom I am a part time correspondent. The newest freelance job, for the Iowa City Press Citizen, was added to the mix yesterday. 2014 has been a year of learning the peculiar requirements of writing for a newspaper, and doing it. By year’s end, I will have written about 50 newspaper articles. Between journal writing, blogging and newspaper writing there are venues enough to find meaningful expression, at least for now.
The second hard part about writing is staying focused. Sitting at the work station and crafting words and phrases on the computer screen or on paper. This takes discipline, and a willingness to avoid distraction. Some days it goes well, and others less so.
By design, today will be a day of writing. There are four articles in the works, and with a full slate of part time jobs to pay bills, it has to be. The rain left last night, and the chance of precipitation is zero throughout today. There will be a temptation to head outside to pick apples and peppers, or to work in the garage on a dozen projects, but it must be resisted. Even now I procrastinate—the writer’s natural inclination.
Yet when inspiration comes from a mysterious source, the words flow, almost automatically. It is those times we treasure as we write. Yet they don’t come without discipline and work.
To get to today took work, and some persistence. When I began writing four decades ago, I didn’t know how it would turn out. Now that I am here I can see the sacrifices that were necessary in the form of an unconventional approach to paying the bills, and a willingness to make sacrifices to see the world and gain understanding of part of it.
LAKE MACBRIDE— It has been a while, more than a year, since the television has been turned on with any regularity. I fired up the tubes to view President Obama’s address to the nation on the campaign in Syria, and occasionally we follow extreme weather, but mostly the set rests darkly in the corner, collecting dust.
That’s not to say we disconnected. We cut back the service to basic cable to save a few budget dollars, and maintained what we had for the bundling with Internet service. With the recent demise of my laptop, and acquisition of a desktop to replace it, I have less screen time generally. The computer has become a work station in a life with many of them— a post-television life of screen time.
Early on, I realized the boon to productivity that was word processing software. It’s hard to believe how much time was spent typing and re-typing a finished paper or article on my Smith Corona and Olympia machines. I kept the typewriters for sentimental reasons, and don’t know if I could find a new ribbon should I want to use them again. While we lived in Indiana, I bought a word processing machine and produced some documents that survive, including a journal— electronic word processing was a miracle.
On April 21, 1996 we bought an Acer home computer and logged on to the Internet at home for the first time. Making the decision to add the $25 monthly subscription to an already tight budget was a big deal. There’s no going back now, and communications services is a big chunk of our monthly budget, one I would like to cut back on.
Now there’s the hand-held mobile device with an Internet connection and many applications. It is used mostly to check email and news, and every once in a while, I make a phone call. Owning this machine has made a laptop less relevant, and communications with people who matter easier.
With the conversion of the industrial economy to one based more on services, the most important element, one that changed everything, has been constant human contact. At the warehouse, I interact with hundreds of people each day when working a regular shift. At the orchard, on a busy Saturday I will greet 500 people or more. It is this human contact we crave, despite how it drains energy from our day.
When we lived on Madison Street, before I entered first grade, I longed to stay up and watch “You Bet Your Life” with Groucho Marx on television. My parents would not allow it for reasons that have become obscure in the river of time. Partly they felt I should be in bed by 9 p.m. when the show aired, but there was more.
As I moved through the grades and left home, television viewing was always a second tier activity, one for after a day’s work was done, whether it be school work or a shift at a job. When I lived in Germany I bought a television late during my tour of duty, and got rid of it after a few months. There is no going back to television now. I’d rather spend my time with people, and see the diverse human experience for myself.
LAKE MACBRIDE— After nine hours, the yard work came to a halt. There was a lot more that could have been done—picking up grass clippings for mulch, trimming trees and bushes, taking down the second tomato patch—but nine was all I could do.
I left the hot and sweet peppers to grow, and the kale, but that was it. It is time to call it a year for the garden. Between the CSA and our garden, there is no shortage of food in our house. Now comes the processing before it goes to compost.
The pears were starting to go bad, so I salvaged what was good and added an equal weight of apples—McIntosh, Song of September, Blondie, Cortland, Haralson and Jonamac. I was a little short, so I picked enough Red Delicious from the tree in the yard to fill out the weight and made a sauce with the whole lot. The pears sweetened it so no sweetener was needed. It made three quarts and tasted great.
Serrano Peppers
Hot peppers are in abundance this year. Dehydrated halves of jalapenos were ready to bag and eventually be turned into a powder. I replaced them with whole Serranos to see if they would dehydrate to make pepper flakes. The rest of the abundance is in zip top bags in the refrigerator awaiting disposition.
I picked what was good in the tomato patches yielding two full trays. They all produced well, more than we need. With the fresh and canned tomatoes, we will last until next August.
This morning I made soup using kale, celery, carrots, onion, canned diced tomatoes, soup stock, bay leaves and dried chervil. I added a quarter cup of pearled barley. The home grown celery tastes like no store bought celery does, and next year I expect to grow more.
There is so much kale a lot will be composted. Some went to the library friends, and the rest is in large garbage bags in the refrigerator taking up space. Eventually it will all find a home.
This afternoon I put the garage back together and returned the automobiles inside. I need another day in the yard, but am not sure when next that will be possible. It’s back to all of my part time jobs for now, hoping ends will meet at the end of the month. One thing is sure, we’ll have plenty to eat.
After a shift at the warehouse, I stopped at the orchard to get Honeycrisp apples. Contrary to what one sees in the mega market, they are seasonal, and the season is short. We hadn’t had enough.
The orchard staff was busy with a tour group, so I went straight to the display near the cooler in the sales barn. Sad remainders, absent of value besides pressing into cider, I ventured into the orchard wearing my white shirt, black slacks and blue shoes from the warehouse.
I had directed hundreds of people to the Honeycrisp groves the last two Saturdays. It was uncertain whether any could be found, but following my own advice, I looked near the trunk of the trees and was not disappointed. I picked eight pounds from two trees in a few minutes.
As I headed back, past the pumpkin patch, across the creek and up the hill, it was invigorating to be out in the orchard where ideas meet reality and bear fruit.
“I’ve been reading the paper lately,” said Kevin Samek to the Solon City Council on Aug. 6 during the citizens speak agenda item. “I’m a little concerned about the north sewer trunk.”
Samek had been reading my newspaper articles about the council and this long-standing community issue.
He went on to express his concerns about the way council was handling finances regarding the sewer line, and on a second topic said that public safety could be improved on Main Street by lowering the speed limit.
Council addressed his concerns by lowering the speed limit on Main Street from 25 to 20 miles per hour, and by unsuccessfully attempting to reach agreement with a developer over the sewer line at their Aug. 20 meeting. Samek filed to run for city council shortly afterward.
Two things about this story explain why some of us write in public.
Samek read my newspaper articles, and then did something about it, first by speaking to council, and then by deciding to run for public office. Informing and activating people to take action is what public writing is about. Whether we write for a newspaper, a blog, in social media, or appear on television or radio, the purpose is similar. We attempt to say something meaningful to readers and urge them to action.
The second important part of this story is that someone was there to witness the work of the city council and report on it. Often I am the only person seated in the gallery at council meetings and if I don’t write about them, it is doubtful anyone outside government would. Being there and having a point of view is important to restoring our Democracy. Writing publicly about what we witness is equally so. This is true not only for our government, but for much else in society.
As my summer job with Blog for Iowa ends, I urge readers to get involved with community life and take progressive action. We each have a unique perspective that is needed. There is a world out there and not enough people witnessing its reality and sharing it in public. Or, as Saul Bellow said more artfully, “there’s the most extraordinary, unheard-of poetry buried in America, but none of the conventional means known to culture can even begin to extract it.”
My hope is that people read what I wrote this summer and were moved to do something about issues that are important to them. As the political season turns to the fall campaign thanks for reading my summer posts. My advice is to never give up.
LAKE MACBRIDE— From the moment an apple falls from a tree, deterioration begins. Over 20 years of tending our small orchard, I learned to keep the ground under the trees picked up to discourage bugs and worms from spreading throughout the trees. Before the main crop is ready, there has been usable fruit on the ground. One recognizes when it is time to pick based on how many apples fall in a day. I brought about five pounds of apples to the kitchen to make vinegar.
Making vinegar is pretty simple. Core and cut away bad spots, including bruises, from a bowl of apples and juice them with a kitchen juicer. (One can also make apple cider, but securing and using a cider mill is a big production not suitable for small baskets of fallen apples). Strain the juice and pour it into a half gallon canning jar. Add part of the mother from the last batch, or a small amount of last year’s vinegar, and cover with a cotton cloth to allow it to breathe. I use a scrap of our daughter’s diaper, as the warp and woof is just right to let air out and prevent bugs from entering. Set the jar in a dark cupboard and leave it alone for a couple of months, inspecting it occasionally to see if the process is working.
A process byproduct is straining and bottling the last batch. A lot of mother was produced in last year’s effort, and what I couldn’t use went into the compost. The jars in the photo have vinegar from apple cider, the new batch and from apples juiced in the kitchen. The latter is by far the best tasting and most acidic.
Cucumbers and onions are in, so maybe a batch of refrigerator pickles to recipe test the results.
LAKE MACBRIDE— Possessed of a large frontal lobe of the cerebral cortex, I spend way to much time intellectualizing life instead of living it. This is not new, nor is it peculiar to me. It’s the human condition— a blessing and a curse. Memory is particularly important for a writer in that if one can’t conceptualize, writing would be impossible. Readers are important too, but that is another story.
The challenge of daily writing is to develop a story balanced between enough research and not too much. That research is in experiences new and old. For now, the source of ideas flows like a spring in an Appalachian hollow, providing a way of life for those who can tap it. One hopes the spring never runs dry.
My experience with Appalachian springs is personal. During a visit to the home place in Virginia shortly after our marriage, we visited family friends who lived a certain way in a hollow with a spring. The income they had was from watching my uncle’s four cows and tobacco fields while he was away working for an airline. The grounds and cow keepers had a government draw from a disability, which was being set aside to eventually buy farming equipment. Money was not a primary concern, although if they had it, they would spend it. So it is in Big Grove.
One might call the author a hoarder. Guilty as charged. I’m a hoarder of books and artifacts collected in diverse experiences around the U.S., Canada and parts of old Europe. The ideas about them reside within me, and that’s the true and deep reservoir of experience for writing. Often, it is research enough.
Occasionally one has to reach out for inspiration, and that’s where I land as summer ends and the fall harvest approaches. The persistent question, what’s next?
I’ve worked to create a process that sustains us over the near term, and now it’s time to produce something longer than a 500 word blog post with the process. Exactly what is an open question for the next month or so.
With consideration and review, contemplation and decision, a path forward will be mapped— toward new experiences and broader exposure of my writing.
The garden is producing a lot of tomatoes, with the cherry and plum varieties coming in. I picked a bowl last night, and those still on the vines continue to grow and ripen.
There was a mature jalapeno and a couple of Serrano, which with the banana pepper, garlic and onion from the CSA will make the base of a nice tomato hot sauce.
Marketmore cucumbers are forming on the vines. They’re at the stage where close monitoring is needed to pick them at the perfect size and before they balloon to gigantic. The celery is reaching a recognizable stage, and basil is ready. Despite the failures of this year’s gardening, there is a variety of produce to harvest.
News of the Listeria monocytogene scare in some California fruit reached Big Grove. We have a few plums past their prime in the ice box, so it was a good enough reason to compost them, even if there was little trouble from the rest of the box as we ate them. They looked so good in the store, that despite the long trip they made to Iowa, we bought and enjoyed them. Apples and pears will soon be ready in our garden, taking us away from a desire for imported fruit.
The advent of August tomatoes marks a turning point in the season. It’s time to plant the second crop of radishes, turnips, and spinach. That work is scheduled for in the morning.
A blatant commercial plug from my favorite fall workplace:
Hi All,
Its that time again. Tractor rides, turnovers, slushies, apples, and blueberries. We open for the season tomorrow, August 1 and will be open every day after that for the next three months. Open 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. through the end of September. Grab the kids, that crabby spouse and come on out and enjoy our bit of heaven.
This weekend features blueberries. Great big, tasty ones from Michigan. Bluecrop variety— the best there is. Get them by the pound or by the 10 pound box. Either way you’re in for a treat. Blueberries freeze extremely well, allowing you to enjoy them all winter long— great in cereal, on yogurt or just plain. $4/pound or $34 for a 10 lb box.
We also have Georgia peaches available. Great big, juicy and tasty. These peaches actually taste like peaches— imagine that! $2.50/pound or $42 for a 25 pound box.
On the treat side, on Saturday and Sunday you can add to your blueberry fix with a slab of Bevo’s Blueberry Buckle, warm and yummy. Or, go with a hot turnover with ice cream. Or a couple of cider donuts. Or heck, its been a long dry spell, do one of each! Apple cider slushies will be flowing as well — plenty to choose from.
On the frozen side, we have apple and cherry turnovers available in 8 packs as well as apple, cherry and blueberry pies.
This weekend looks to be GREAT weather. Come by and get your first tractor ride of the season or enjoy a stroll through the orchard. The crop looks exceptional this year. We dodged several hail storms, came within a degree of a major freeze and withstood straight line winds. Through it all, the apples survived and thrived and we have a great looking crop nice sized fruit with good color and flavor. Knock on wood.
What’s Pickin’
While the crop looks great, most varieties are at least a week later than normal due to the cooler temperatures this summer.
Pristine— in the words of Chug Wilson, “the first good eating apple of the season”. Pristine also make very good pies, for those of you so inclined.
Jersey Macs— an early McIntosh, GREAT for applesauce. Good flavored eating apple, but a bit on the tart side Dutchess of Oldenberg— quite tart. This is an old time apple in Iowa, one of the first that settlers found could withstand the tough winters here. Our crop of Dutchess is quite small this year
Hope to see you all soon.
Paul Rasch
Wilson’s Orchard, 2924 Orchard Lane NE, Iowa City, Iowa 52240
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