Our vegetable garden, like the old gray mare, ain’t what she used to be. The problem is encroaching shade from nearby maple trees that I cannot bring myself to cut down.. So, the garden must duke it out with the shade and we’re satisfied with whatever results. The result this year has been a surprising and most appreciated bounty of cucumber. So, rather than reinvent the wheel, I offer again, “In Season” from the book, “She Won’t Mow the Daisies” – edited for brevity.

In Season

It may sound odd to declare creamed cucumbers and onions as my favorite food but it is – right now. We’re eating it as fast as we can since cucumbers and onions are “coming out of our ears” from a garden that rebounded from a spring hail storm. There’s something about fresh food from the garden that defies description and if you’ve never had fresh creamed cucumbers and onions, it may be difficult to understand. All I can say is that it’s what’s “in season.”

When I was growing up in rural Cook, folks had an affinity for the bounty provided by farm and field. Fall in the neighborhood was butchering time providing fresh fried chicken, beef roast, pork chops and smatterings of small and large wild game. When the warmth of spring took hold, we could count on wild strawberries for shortcake, rhubarb sauce, then blueberry pies, raspberry jam, and wild plum jelly. Once the garden “kicked in” it showered us in all kinds of treats not the least of which was creamed cucumbers and onions.

Eating what’s in season makes sense for all kinds of reasons. For one, it answers the question, “What’s for supper?” Furthermore, it’s simply good manners to receive, with appreciation, a gift that is given. The forest, the field, the garden, the farm, the Lord, or the Great Spirit, depending on how you choose to think of it, are basically saying, “Here is this bounty. It is healthy and tasty and plentiful – right now. It is in season. Enjoy.”

The best example of eating in season I’ve experienced was with our neighbors, Ray and Louise Raati and their five kids. When blueberries were ripe, the family would pick many gallons of them for baked treats of all kinds. A troublesome bear would be turned into rich ground meat heaped onto a large table. Spices were tossed on, mixed in by many hands, then fed into the stuffer and expertly twisted into hundreds of sausages that fell into awaiting tubs. When wild rice was ripe or herring runs filled Lake Superior or apple orchards bent to the ground in Wisconsin, Ray and Louise would collect this bounty and bring back extra for others who might want. Ray had a reputation for producing works of art with wild foods, but truth is, it was Louise who, with the help of her Ojibwa heritage, came to the marriage with most of the knowhow. Whatever the case, it was always difficult for me to sit next to one of the Raati kids on the bus with my tuna sandwich and orange when one of them was packing fresh blueberry pie, smoked herring or absolutely scrumptious bear sausage.

Thinking about nature’s gifts, I wish I could have experienced the American buffalo at its height. It was the largest herd of animals in the world. What a sight that must have been – one that rivaled the spectacle of the Grand Canyon or the endless ocean blue. Then, in little more than one lifetime, the bison herd was hunted down from 60,000,000 animals to only 300 while at the same time, protein-rich prairie grasses were plowed under. Rather than accepting a seemingly limitless and free bounty, folks worked their hands to the bone to raise, house and protect domestic livestock while planting crops that withered in droughts or drowned in the wet.

Maybe these things and the fate of buffalo were as inevitable as the rising sun and I’m not looking to either understand or blame generations past. After all, buffalo do roam as the song says which would make anyone nervous if supper is grazing a couple states away. However, the song also says, “Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam” and that dream is essentially gone. It’s sad. Perhaps “in season” in these parts was once buffalo steak and wild rice. That thought makes creamed cucumbers and onions look pale in comparison but it’s what I have now. It’s what’s in season and it’s delicious.

Leo is retired and lives in rural Cook with his wife, Lindy. He is the author of three books, She Won’t Mow the Daisies, The Cabin Experience, and Life Over Easy. Leo can be contacted by email at llwilenius@gmail.com.