I woke up around 6 am on Memorial Day to the sound of rolling thunder and a gentle spring rain against the window. Listening to the rain I thought I probably wasn't going to spend a lot of time outdoors in the garden as I planned, so my mind began to wander, and it went directly to pasta.
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Yes folks, that is sarcasm dripping every so sweetly and slowly off the end of week eight and onto this page. I don't know why I counted the days, but I did. And now as I sit here reflecting on the seasons ahead, and changes in food and food production ahead of me, it's beginning to feel daunting once again.
Funny thing is that the past week went by pretty smoothly for me. I'm in a food routine now. Sunday is my production day for the week, which isn't a bad thing when there's nothing else to do, and the weather is kind of crappy. I get up early Sunday morning, start a pot of coffee and then begin preparing for the week baking a loaf or two of bread, and perhaps granola bars or crackers. But summer is here in Wisconsin and the warmness of the wind, the voices of my friends, and the smell of brats in the air are calling me away from food production like seductive sirens.
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The Victory Garden movement, which started during WWI really reached its peak during WWII. Home gardeners were told that anything they could do to leave more produce for the military (aka saving resources) would be part of their patriotic duty. The result of this effort was a multitude of backyard gardens, community gardens, and window box gardens across the country. (The modern-day Victory Garden Movement is alive today right here in Milwaukee.
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