Summer

As far back as I can remember, every June my family would make our annual pilgrimage to Jones' Farm to pick bright red juicy strawberries. If we didn't leave with a heaping boxful then we didn't do our jobs. But as a kid I would always end up picking more for myself than for the box, eating every other berry and leaving with the tell-tale signs on my hands and face. I was just as guilty as the next kid, so actually I didn't feel that bad. Now as an adult I typically taste only one and try to keep myself from eating any more. I'm really just saving up for gorging on them in the privacy of my own home.

You really have to love strawberries to pick them yourself. After all that bending and picking, it's easy for a person to get tired. I must love them so much, because last week on a sunny yet breezy Monday morning, with the help of my mom, I picked 13 pounds of strawberries. But aren't strawberries easy to love? I don't think I know anyone who doesn't adore them. They're so sweet and mushy once you eat them. It's one of the most favorite flavors in ice cream and candy. Even lotions and some cosmetics are flavored with strawberries. That just shows you how extremely popular the flavor actually is.

Eat your peas. That's one thing my mother never had to say to me. I always liked peas, even as a little girl. Why? Probably because my mom never overcooked them, and she always used fresh peas (well, maybe frozen occasionally, but never canned).

All varieties of peas have been available lately in Southern California, and their full flavor and crisp texture is incomparable. In addition to the classic English pea, there is the snow pea and, my favorite, the sugar snap pea.

Now, sometimes peas can be a bit complicated. Do I eat the pod? Can I eat it raw? What exactly does shuck mean? Thankfully, a farmer at our local market recently put up signs:

ENGLISH PEAS: DON’T EAT THE PODS

SUGAR SNAP PEAS: EAT THE WHOLE THING

No one ever has questions about the snow peas; they’re low maintenance.

Gazpacho, what a perfect name for a chilled soup. Ever since hearing of the exotic "gazpacho," I have been intrigued and perplexed by its very foreign name. I came to learn that the soup's roots lie in Andalusia in the southern region of Spain. Gazpacho originated as a cold soup of stale bread, garlic, oil, and vinegar. Once tomatoes were brought from the New World and added to the traditional recipe, the summertime soup became even more refreshing. Over the years the soup has transformed, sometimes omitting bread, and in some tomato-less variations including almonds, cucumbers, and grapes. When I tried gazpacho for the first time, I realized what I had been missing and what I had misconstrued as foreignness was just my lack of knowing how incredibly simple it is to make.

With no cooking involved, all that is needed are fresh vegetables, a good sharp knife, and a blender. I've attempted to make gazpacho before but haven't always been successful with achieving the right vegetable combination or the texture. It's entirely about having that just-so touch witth the blender. Blend too little, the soup will be too grainy and blend too much, it will be watery. One way to get really good texture is to reserve some of the chopped vegetables to add back into the puréed soup. This will create a chunky version, which is the kind I prefer. Some recipes call for pushing the soup through a sieve. Others recommend a food mill, which will achieve a really good texture. It's really personal preference that dictates whichever textural method is used.

A major aspect of the garden living lifestyle is the understanding of each season’s produce. In a culture where summertime fruits are available in winter, I feel that a true garden lifestyle is marked by the gardener’s knowledge of “in season” produce for the freshest garden experience possible. Having an understanding and knowledge of your garden and the land’s timely bounty is a must for garden living, for the rewards of this understanding are delicious. For this Farmer, knowing when peaches, blackberries, and other seasonal delights are at their finest is a memorable stopping point on the garden living journey.

As a Georgia boy, I have grown up under the shade of pecan groves and amidst the rows of peach fields. In fact, the Peach County line is only a stone’s throw from my home. Growing up on a farm lent the opportunity for an education with nature as professor, learning in relation to the seasonal and native crops perennially noting the time of year.

Each season is marked by its produce in my mind, a marking that has imprinted itself into a garden living mindset and thus lifestyle. I know we’ll have blackberries in late spring and summer, followed by peaches, watermelons and wild plums, muscadines and scuppernongs in late summer and into fall and finally pecans in the year’s latter months. From the brambles and briars yielding scores of deep purple blackberries to the fields laden with peaches, I have come to rely and respect nature’s bounty for its simplicity, its flavor, and beauty.