Welcome to the third topic in the Elements/Seasons series with Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge. This week we have Earth/Harvest.
In Cee’s description, she mentions that earth people tend to be well grounded, nurturing, earth-mothers. That they like to bring others together and make good mediators and reliable friends, and that they enjoy both preparing food and eating. The color for earth is yellow.
Hmmmm. Well, I seem to fit the description on some points, not on others. I am definitely “earthy” but not necessarily ‘earth mothery-ish”. I think I make a good mediator but not always a reliable friend (I forget birthdays, major surgeries, weddings – you know- minor details), and I love eating, but my food preparation skills involve being the only one in the house that can flip an egg without breaking the yolk, but only if I happen to remember that I am cooking and don’t wander off after something shiny. Yellow is totally my favorite color though, so I should get some earthy points for that.
I have only a few photos today, and to be honest, most of them stink from a “great shot” standpoint. But as usual, they all have a story. That said, here are my entries for this week.
First off – the dirt pile that lived in the backyard of our new house up until a month ago. It looks freakishly similar to a pile of Dino Doo-Doo.
Harvest in Wisconsin means the return of farmer’s markets and a wide array of fresh fruits, veggies, honey, jams, and pies. Below is one of Wisconsin’s most popular byproducts of a successful harvest.
Wisconsin is filled with keg hoisting German and Belgian decedents who have brewed the perfect blend of harvested barleys, corns, hops, wild malted milk balls, organic foamy things – producing a golden yellow to chocolatey brown beverage, otherwise known as “beer”. The glass above is from a small craft brewery in New Glarus – the ever popular (and my personal favorite, which of course I know you remember from my last post – ahem), Spotted Cow. Deeee-lish!
Speaking of Belgians and Germans, below are pictures of my grandparents, Cliff and Estelle, and Glenn and Betty. Cliff was Belgian, Estelle was Dutch, and both Glenn and Betty were Germans. (Germans and Belgians and Dutch…oh my!). I never knew Betty – she died when my mom was two – but I have many fond memories of Millie, the woman I loved and called Grandma. But that’s another story.
None of my grandparents were brewers, but gardening (earth) was a big part of their world while raising families during the depression and the 2nd World War. I really only remember Cliff and Estelle’s though, as they continued to garden up into their eighties. You can see a bit of it on the left in their photo.
My grandfather loved his garden – it was filled with tulips and irises, currants, concord grapes and green beans. Cucumbers too, I think. I spent most of my time running around with my cousins playing with all the stuff we weren’t supposed to like Grandma’s perfumed powder puffs, but I remember Grandpa out there tending and watering, taking breaks in the big swing with Grandma or the neighbor.
When I was young, I didn’t appreciate my grandparents as much as I do now. What a wasted opportunity- I was so young and stupid and ignorant, with such a wealth of knowledge and love right at my fingertips. But somehow, they managed to reach across the space-time continuum (that’s “heaven” to you non-nerds), and plant a little bit of themselves back into my life.
With the advent of social media, my cousins and I have gotten back in touch, sharing stories, photos and anecdotes of kids, pets, spouses, grandchildren – and of course meandering together down memory lane, stopping often to smell Grandpa’s flowers and remark upon Grandma’s fishing skills.
My cousin Michelle, with whom I shared many ill-fated adventures while growing up, happened to marry a gardener, who happened to post photos of his beautiful blooms, which I happened to love, and he happened to respond and the next thing I know, I have a box delivered to me filled with his flower children. And not just his children, but even more special to me – the flower children of my grandparents. He and Michelle had descendants of the irises from Grandpa’s garden, and sent some to me.
Grandma Estelle White and Grandpa Cliff Purple are now residing down by the pond, where I am praying they survive the winter, after which we will hopefully have a lawn and I can transplant them to a more permanent home up by the house. Unfortunately, living down by the pond has it’s hazards. The easement to the pond is owned by the town, and they came thru and weed whacked (raped and pillaged, more like), running right over Grandma and Grandpa.
I think they are okay, though. I can’t imagine God sending bits of my heart back to me, only to have them killed by a rampant lawn mower. So say a little prayer for them if you think of it. 🙂
My final harvest photo is something that should be “knee high by the 4th of July”, and grown by most farmers in Wisconsin to feed our beautiful spotted cheese makers (aka: cows) and our Packer cheerin’ cheese eaters (aka: Wisconsinites): Nothing like roasted corn at a church picnic, with a hot bowl of booyah and an ice cold soda or brewski. We know how to live in Wisconsin. And I’m not even saying that with my sarcastic voice.
Okay, I lied about the final photo. I’m not really done. I have a whole collage of “yellow” to share with you! Did I mention I love yellow? These are a few of my favorite yellow things (besides cheese, corn and beer):
Now I’m done. Mostly. Unless I think of something else. In which case, I would most certainly NOT be done, and this blog would drag on forever. Pretty sure we don’t want THAT.
Until next week,
PS. I had delicious cake this weekend.
PPS. You could get me to quit typing by putting cake in my hands.
PPSS. Don’t forget to visit Cee’s page to check out the other challengers!