My favorite farm stand received a remodel since last year. Metal roof and siding now protect the exterior; panels mounted on the sides shelter the selection of produce from the rays of the sun. A new sign featuring a strawberry and sunflower was mounted on the side of the building.
The little spot is a cheerful site as I pass on my commute each morning and evening. I can’t resist stopping occasionally to purchase a crisp green pepper, bright yellow summer squash, or a few deep green zucchini, if I can find some slender young ones.
My only complaint about warm season squash is that most gardeners in this area feel bigger is better, but actually small squash, short of maturity, are so much more delicately flavored and tender.
When they become overgrown,zucchini squash are much better when grated for zucchini bread than when sliced and fried or mixed with pasta and lemon, my favorite ways to enjoy squash in the hot months.
But whatever is on the table, stopping at this cute little farmstand is always a pleasure. The imitation vintage linens covering the display surfaces are especially delightful.
They don’t make hay like they used to, and that’s a good thing I suppose. Less labor, but more expense, perhaps, with the need for a more expensive baler and a tractor attachment to lift the cylinders and move them.
Plus, you can’t build forts and horses, and all manner of creations with them, as kids used to on rainy days playing inside the barn. Here’s another view that includes the house and outbuildings.
So sad that family farms are disappearing, consolidating into mega-businesses without a sense of pride and connection the land, plants, livestock, the people who purchase their products.
Traveling home last evening, and then again this morning (I’m composing this post on Good Friday) I encountered several snow squalls, punctuated by sunny skies.
Here’s a photo of one of my favorites spots to observe sunsets. I love this huge old farmhouse. Each time I pass, images come to me, of brothers and sisters from a large family flitting about the upstairs bedrooms after a long day of labor on the farm during summer vacation, or following chores and homework on schooldays.
My mother always said an Easter snow was inevitable. I used to scoff when she said that, but the years have shown me, we do usually have at least a skiff of snow, somewhere within the week before or after Easter.
Hopefully today’s flurries will serve as this year’s official Easter encounter with the white stuff.
May Easter blessings surround us. . .
And may those of us who are well remain healthy as our heroes in the medical research community work round the clock to find ways to help current COVID-19 patients and a vaccine to prevent future outbreaks.