It's Easy Being Green

Tomato plants stripped nearly naked thanks to a marauding band of Horn Worms

This year’s garden is now in a major lull with the exception of the cacophony of Tomato Horn Worms chewing their way though our plants.  It’s true, if you stand still long enough during the warm daylight hours, you won’t hear a bird’s song or the wind rustling through the reeds next to our frog pond.  You will literally hear the mandibles of dozens of green striped Horn Worms chewing tomato plants into leafless totems hearkening for another shot at life.

We’ve done well this year with our garden crop and have seemingly trumped the output of other backyard vegetable patches in our area.  More than a dozen tomato plants spread throughout our square foot garden fared decently but hit a noticeable slowdown once a triple digit heat index took hold for several long weeks.

Recently cool temperatures both at night and during the day have spurred some rejuvenation in those warm weather plants that seemed all but tapped out for the season.  A new flush of tomatoes have set and are increasing in size with each passing day.  It’s as if the tomatoes, falling out of stride, know the season is marching on without them.  They’re giving it one last push to make their masters happy before the frost settles and brings an end to their six month-long efflorescent parade.

While we wait for the last gifts of the season to ripen on the vine, we’re involved in a twice daily fight to the death with those devilish Tomato Horn Worms.  I’ve started giving the tomatoes a caffeinated jolt, spraying with diluted coffee when the air is still.  According to some discussion in an issue of Organic Gardening magazine, the coffee’s acidity makes the tomato leaves unpalatable to the marauding Horn Worms and there does seem to be some truth to the claim.  Meanwhile you could almost make a twice daily trip to the garden and fatten your own gullet eating a meal of horn worms.  If only they tasted like the very tomatoes they nefariously eat.

While it is still cool in the mornings, you can often catch Horn Worms while they are very groggy. That is where they climb to the tip of the tomato plant to catch some rays.

While the morning air is still cool you can easily bust the curled caterpillars trying to catch the sun’s first warm rays of the day while clamped firmly to the ends of the tomato branches.  It’s there my nimble fingers navigate between the leaves to pull and finally pluck the caterpillar from its tomato buffet and firmly plant it in a bucket with its recently harvested brethren.  Then again by sunset, Homestead Hottie and I tread through the garden once more searching for the “ones that got away”.

A bucket of Tomato Horn Worms freshly picked and destined to become fish food

Once my bucket is full and before the sun totally slips below the horizon line, I toss the day’s pickings out into the middle of the frog pond.  That’s where, lying just below the still and stagnant water’s surface, a group of fish await the writhing tender green gooey morsels looking to fatten their bellies on my future meal. Standing alongside the reeds on the pond’s bank, I watch the Horn Worms disappear one by one into a boil of frenzied fish mouths.  Once the last one disappears beneath the water’s surface, I understand why revenge truly is as sweet as some say it is.

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A lineup showing just a couple jars of what we've been able to put up over the last two weeks here at the half-acre homestead. Our shelves in the garage are now over-flowing with food to last into the winter season.

As I enter the fifth week of unemployment, I’ve started purging my magazine racks scattered throughout the house.  It’s been a welcome sight for my Homestead Hottie, seeing a few magazines trickle out the garage door and into the recycling bin destined for bigger and better things than collecting dust and taking up valuable space.

I got a bit ticked though thumbing through the November 2009 issue of Organic Gardening though.  A brief article flipped my lid, informing me for the first time that canning jar lids produced by Jarden (brand names include Ball, Kerr, Golden Harvest and Bernandin) contain BPA.  Bisphenol-A is the very industrial chemical that we have diligently tried to purge from our home and food supply, tossing storage containers, water bottles and even commercially canned food.  Now I come to find out my freshly preserved organic goods from the garden might be tainted with a chemical linked to reproductive and developmental problems, diabetes, cancer and heart disease.

The news disgusts me since Homestead Hottie, Darling Daughter and I just wrapped up two very busy weeks preserving this Summer’s harvest.  So far we’ve proudly home canned and shelved:

4 jars of cinnamon apple slices
4 jars of pickles
12 jars of strawberry jam
4 jars of halved tomatoes
8 jars of apple sauce
3 jars of apple butter
8 jars of tomato sauce
3 jars of whole tomatoes
5 jars of chicken stock

Some websites claim the only lids containing  BPA are those with a white coating on the inside.  One or two mention that Jarden quit using BPA in their products.  Still others yet warn of chemicals used in the competitors lids (Tattler) called POM which apparently contains formaldehyde.  Now I’m so confused I don’t know what to think.  I’m trying to put a call into Jarden to see what info they can give me about the situation.  Stay tuned for updates!

In the meantime, I’ll keep looking at the alternative to avoid BPA in our home canning.  What have you done to keep the chemical out of your food supply?

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Is the price we pay for food really worth the impacts it will have on our life in the future?  I think it’s a question more Americans should be asking themselves as they cue in line for a meal at the drive-thru or pull in to the local convenience store as they nab 44-ounces of carbonated diabetic bliss iced in a Styrofoam cup.

If more Americans took the time to learn about how their food is made they would inevitably make smarter choices.  King Corn, a documentary highlighting the amazing influence corn has on our daily lives, is just another wake up call for people to change the way they think about the means in which they fuel their body.  I’m left wondering why a product that is nutritionally void for humans, deadly to the animals that eat it and is worth next to nothing on the open market is so beloved by our federal government.

As the harvest ramps up here in southwestern Indiana, more and more fields of Number 2 corn are meeting the combine this week.  I’m glad I watched the film King Corn, the brainchild of two college buddies, Ian Cheney and Curt Ellis.  It has given me a new perspective on a harvest process that I used to think was quaint and steeped in tradition but now I know is anything but.  According to the Environmental Working Group, more than $50 Billion has been paid to subsidize corn farmers in the past decade. Between 2003 and 2005, 66% of those subsidies only went to 10% of our farmers.

The Global Development and Environmental Institute in a report titled Industrial Livestock Companies’ Gains from Low Feed Prices showed just how far those grain subsidies stretch in our food system.  Between 1997 and 2005, the industrial broiler chicken industry saved $11.25 Billion and the industrial hog industry saved $8.5 Billion from the very farm bill policies that keep corn and soybean prices below the price of production.

King Corn goes on to show the dramatic rise in human consumption of high-fructose corn syrup over the past three decades and the severe health consequences we as Americans now face because of it.  I highly recommend this documentary to anyone interested in learning the impacts brought about by what you might think is just a quaint field of corn.

If you’re interested in purchasing a copy of the DVD:

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This past week we had a brief taste of Autumn here in southwest Indiana.  We fell out of our 90 degree temperatures and sticky humidity to land in a string of a few days that left us topping off right around 80 degree during the day and dipped us well into the 50’s at night.  It summoned the first opening of the doors and windows of the season, bringing a halt to the endless whine of the air conditioner for the first time in about three months.

Admittedly the delightfully cool temperatures were a bit of a shock to the system.  My Homestead Hottie bundled up in her fuzzy housecoat and flip-flop slippers morning and night, only breaking free during the afternoon warmth.  I, attentively watching marinated chicken grilling over red hot coals out on the deck, found myself standing as close to the grill as I could get without climbing right in and singeing myself to a crisp.  Darling Daughter has taken to pulling pairs of sweat pants from her dresser and waving them about until we get the message and put them on.

While we were grateful for the change in temperatures and the flirt with Autumn, we’ve found ourselves back in the upper 80’s this week.  The air conditioner has come back on and the windows and doors have found themselves sealed tight, waiting for the next opportunity to let the outdoors in.  The Indian Summer is a good reminder of what is to come and a spur to kick us into gear and hopefully get a good fall crop of vegetables sown before our first frost of the season.

For the past week we’ve been pulling plants ravaged by the long Summer season and sending them to the composter, the beginning of  a re-birth that will find them once again turned back into the soil but in a completely different form than the started.  The open space feels weird.  Sure the garden beds are beginning to look much more clean and tidy but I begin to feel  like I lost a good friend.  I’m missing a plant that produced so much and yet it feels like I just didn’t have enough time together.  The counter tops here at the Half-Acre Homestead tell me otherwise though, filled to the brim with fresh produce and at least two-dozen red, yellow and green hued canning jars preserving the Summer’s bounty.

Some have told us we’re about four weeks away from our first frost.  The long, warm Summer would tell me otherwise and thanks to a quick glance at the Farmer’s Almanac Frost Predictions this week, the good people there predict we’re about 60 days away from our first brush with Old Man Winter.  That means there is plenty of time to reap more goodness from the garden beds before we have to put it away.  Homestead Hottie and I have been busily sowing lettuce, spinach, peas, snow peas, carrots, potatoes, green onions, swiss chard, turnips, beets and radishes.  All are cool-season crops that, in theory, should grant our dinner plates with some more wholesome goodness before we begin dipping into storage.  I’m also experimenting, planting some Butternut squash to see if by chance we can eek out a supply of sweet winter treats.

It is also time for me to dig out a large stack of old, wood-framed windows I picked up thanks to Freecycle.  They will form at least one new cold frame in the square foot garden, hopefully keeping one of the beds warm enough to extend the season for some produce into Winter.  My to-do list once again begins to grow making me feel a bit like the local squirrels beginning their seasonal acrobatics, hop-scotching around to build their nest and food cache before a long Winter’s rest.

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It’s been a tough couple of weeks around the half-acre homestead, especially after getting word of the end of my employment.  Homestead Hottie and I have been itching to get our Darling Daughter out of the house and to hit the road to parts unknown for awhile now and the current situation has only made that situation worse.  This weekend we were supposed to be relaxing on the beach of the Gulf Coast but the job loss meant socking vacation money away and staying home instead.

Today we decided to hit the highway and take a day trip to Marengo Cave, just on the east flank of the Hoosier National Forest and almost to Louisville, Kentucky.  We weren’t sure if our 14 month old Darling Daughter would be able to make it through a cave tour but decided to go for the gold and opted for the longest tour: the Dripstone Trail.  She did great and was visibly amazed by what she was seeing underground.  The change of scenery kept her quiet for the first 45 minutes of the 70 minute tour, even though our guide’s voice was akin to nails on a chalkboard echoing throughout the cavernous darkness.  Toward the end she got fussy but started enjoying herself again when we got to a point in the cave where you could walk on the floor.  It was the perfect opportunity for her to stretch her little legs and she took it!  We all enjoyed Marengo Cave and were glad there wasn’t a grand finale ending to the tour like the one we experienced at Meramec Caverns in Missouri.  That’s another story in itself.

Next on our agenda following the spelunking was to find a sit-down restaurant and get a good bite to eat.  I had heard good things about The Overlook Restaurant in Leavenworth, Indiana and decided to give it a try.  Perched on a bluff high above the Ohio River, The Overlook definitely can boast a million dollar view.  Forested hillsides roll their way down to the river’s edge, dotted with farms along the shoreline.  Pleasure boats and tugs pushing barges ply the waters down below giving you even more to look at.  The ground surrounding the restaurant are filled with bird houses, feeders and native flowering plants that were overrun with butterflies of every shape, size and color while we were there.

Stepping inside The Overlook I immediately noticed the decor.  Wood paneling and mirrored walls give the restaurant a dated vibe hearkening from the 1960’s or 70’s.  The dining room furniture looks to be from that time period as well.  Knobby and well beaten wooden tables and chairs make the place look like a cheap fish and chips joint.  Vinyl seat covers are not only olive green but many are also tattered and torn.  Motel quality water color paintings (also for sale) adorn some of the interior walls where mirrored paneling isn’t currently hanging.

The menu isn’t extensive and nothing wowed me enough to leave me knowing, without a doubt, what I was going to eat.  I had paired it down to two possibilities:  Hot Brown Sandwich and the Fried Chicken dinner.  Our waitress informed me that they were well known for their fried chicken so I decided to give it a shot.  If you claim it’s your specialty then I’m going to want to put it to the ultimate test.  Our Darling Daughter enjoyed the Mac ‘n Cheese off the kids menu just fine.  Homestead Hottie ordered the club sandwich, stacked a mile high with meat and all the usual accompaniments.

There really wasn’t anything notable about the presentation.  On first glance I thought the two pieces of white meat chicken, which I paid $1 more to have, were extremely small considering the nearly $11 price for the fried chicken plate.  I chose green beans and mashed potatoes as my side dishes.  The potatoes looked white and fluffy, adorned with the requisite white gravy.  The green beans looked delicious with bits of onion and bacon sprinkled throughout.  Both sides were good choices but the chicken left me disappointed.  The fried skin was golden brown and looked enticing but when it hit my tongue, there was little if no flavor to tantalize my taste buds.  I must have dumped half the shaker of salt and pepper over the top just to produce some sort of flavor boost.  The interior of the chicken looked juicy but proved tough and dry inside.  Only a dredging through the mashed potatoes and gravy could cover up the sahara-like meat inside.

Homestead Hottie opted for the traditional club sandwich, sliced into quarters and stacked high on toasted bread.  She liked the club but noted it was certainly nothing special.  Our Darling Daughter enjoyed her plate of mac ‘n cheese and made quite the mess digging in.  All in all our tummies were filled and happy enough to keep us satisfied and awake for the hour plus drive back to the half-acre homestead.  The view at The Overlook is definitely something to go back for.  The food, especially their “special fried chicken”, is not.

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