SEE FISH SALSA

by Stefanie

Well, I wish I was coordinated enough to do the salsa.  Zumba has taught me that it's not exactly my forte...but this is a salsa I can do:

There is nothing better to do with fresh, summer tomatoes than making salsa.  We make it in LARGE batches at our house with really no set recipe but here is the gist:

In a food processor we blend 6-8 tomatoes, a handful of parsley, two handfuls of cilantro, one large onion (yellow or red or a little of both), several cloves of garlic, 3 or so stalks of celery, a sweet pepper, a hot pepper (if you want--we often don't), two or more tablespoons of fresh lemon juice (or lime or a combination of both), and sea salt to taste.  You really can't go wrong--unless your onions are strong and you put in too much.  Sometimes I don't have all the above veggies.  Today I made some and was lacking sweet peppers.  I had some radishes, so I threw several of those in.  It's just kind of whatever--  although I would say the essentials are tomatoes, onion, cilantro, and lemon.  Make it for your taste and how it looks.  I personally like to see a lot of green in mine; I don't want it to look like straight tomatoes.
Enjoy!

SEE FISH DREAM...

By Stefanie

Ever since having watched the movie Food, Inc. I have dreamed of having a self-sustainable farm. For those of you who have not seen the movie, please watch it. It's so important to understand where most of the food you are eating comes from, how adulterated it is, and the scandalous people and big companies that are behind it. Anyway, there is a guy in the film who owns a self-sustaining farm in Virginia called Polyface Farms. The man just "gets it." He can see the corruption of our food, our animals, our land and he does something about it. He even offers apprenticeships for those wanting to learn how to farm in a much more ethical, moral way. I wish he lived closer...

But there are people around us that are trying to do the same. We need to support our local farmers, especially when they are trying to farm organically. We need to buy organic food whenever possible--not just because it is the best for our bodies, but because it shows support of people who are trying to do things a better way.

I recently learned of another farm in Overton, Nevada. What happened to them this month was unbelievable! I encourage you to check out this link and read their story. It will make you wonder if the time is coming when we will be so controlled that we won't have the freedom to grow our own food and share it with our neighbors. Let's stand up for whatever is right, however we can, and protect our freedom.

I'm still dreaming of having a sustainable farm, but I need a lot of other like-minded people to join with me because it's too much work for one! I'm hoping my brother Kevin (who would be an awesome farmer--actually, he kind of is already) decides he wants to do this for a living and will let me have a small part in it.

Three Sprouting Wonders

By Marci

One: The chia penguin.  I laugh every time I look at this thing.  

My kids question, "If you never cut it, will it grow until it hits the ceiling?"

Two: My kids.  Wow, everything that fit them in the spring, just a few short 

months ago, is now showing ankles and bellies!

 Three: Wheat berries. Yes, Stef's sprouting is starting to rub off on me.  Sprouting is like a two-day garden wonder.  Like doting on a vegetable garden, I love to see the change in the sprouts each time they need a rinse.  Here's my first attempt at Rejuvelac from the hard white wheat I usually only make into bread and pancakes.  I use the resulting liquid in green drink or my favorite breakfasty smoothy.  Recipe to come at a later date...

See Fish Muse

by Pat

September has an abundance that is unmatched by any other month. In my part of the world, it brings the harvest, and from the time I was a little girl, I have "gathered in" and experienced gratitude and reverence for the bounty of the earth. I thank my mother and her parents for teaching me the blessings of the family garden. They are many but some of my favorites are the smell of newly turned soil, the miracle of emerging sprouts, the satisfaction of careful weeding, the promise of ripening fruit, the taste of a sun-warmed tomato, and the wonder of plants that keep giving and giving.

I haven't always appreciated my heritage regarding the garden. I remember as a preteen picking strawberries with Grandma early in the morning. She wanted to have the job done before it got too hot, so we would enter the patch before we could see the berries. She would bend over to pick and scold me as I tried to sit between the rows because I was already tired. It seemed that the plants went on forever, and I wondered if we would ever get to the end, but Grandma was giddy as she patiently, carefully placed berry after berry in her specially designed box, occasionally popping one in her mouth. Before we were finished, it was too hot, and Grandma's back was killing her, and I was wondering why we were working so hard. The "why" would take me years to learn, but this was the beginning.

I realized recently that my mother continued the legacy while many of her peers set it aside. I can't remember my friends' families having vegetable gardens, but Mom had a green thumb and a passion for growing everything edible. For years she had over 30 varieties of fruits and vegetables in her large garden. Dad would do some tilling and other extra tough jobs now and then, but it was Mom who felt the joy, the fulfillment, the excitement that kept her in the garden hour after hour, year after year. As adults my sisters and I brought our young children and helped, often because of our sense of duty to our hard-working mother who shared so generously the products of her labor. But out of that duty grew an incredible appreciation for time spent together sharing laughter and tears, successes and frustrations, questions and answers while our hands dug and plucked, shelled and shucked. The maturing of our love and respect for one another was our mother's most treasured yield.

Yesterday for lunch I had a BLT and a bowl of peaches and raspberries. As I looked at my plate, I saw my homemade bread and the freshly-picked tomatoes and raspberries from the garden that my son and I have together. I was alone, sitting at my kitchen counter, but as I savored the flavors, I was transported to my mother's kitchen. I was there with her and my sisters, enjoying the same menu--her homemade bread and lettuce, tomatoes, peaches, and raspberries from her garden. I relived decades of Septembers in that sweet memory, and sacred feelings of warmth, plenty, and thanksgiving washed over me like the autumn sun that was shining through my window.