Gardening and Gathering Food

One of my very favorite childhood memories is of my mom and I working in the garden. We had a large garden that was one of the main suppliers of food for our family. I remember the beautiful flowers at the front and then the rows and rows of veggies. Mom would often chant while she gardened. I could tell this made her happy and it made me feel very peaceful. The many rows of veggies eventually landed in either our pantry, the freezer or were canned. We would sit together at the dinner table shucking corn and shelling peas to fill our freezer for the winter.

Mom would go to the store to buy some essentials, but finances were very limited so we gathered whatever we could. I can remember trading veggies with our neighbor Mr. Dick, who also had a huge garden. If one of us had a good crop of something and the other didn’t we would all share the bounty. It seemed like almost everyone on the island had a huge garden and worked out in it into their elder years. One can’t help but wonder if eating off the land for so much of the diet contributed to the fact that everyone was so healthy.

I loved hanging out in other people’s gardens. I have vivid memories of Mr. Dick’s and Mr. Charlie’s gardens especially. The dogs and I really got around. And the longer we hung out anywhere the more snacks we were fed, which was a nice bonus.

I also loved going out on the water with Jack or with anyone that would take me. Running the crabbing lines was really cool but it required getting up in the wee hours of the morning in the dark, which wasn’t easy. I probably didn’t go out much on the boat crabbing, but it is still such a special image. I can see the sun as it rose and lit the sky. The crab lines were all run by hand at that time so sometimes the crabs would get loose in the boat, which was quite the event.

Picking crabs around the table with Mom and Jack was always fun. I would eat more than I picked, but thankfully they let me hang out. Mom would make crab cakes to freeze. We ate SO MUCH crab all summer long. Crab cakes, crab dip, crab imperial, crab balls, crab soup. By the end of the season we were all so sick of it. My stepbrother John would often mention how expensive it would be in a restaurant, maybe to lighten what felt like a burden to eat crab…again. In the summer if it wasn’t crab, then it was likely fish of some kind, or eel. Eel were fascinating to me – to catch and to kill. Jack would nail them to a board I think and then skin them.

The cycle of life was never hidden from me. Sometimes it grossed me out but overall it was enthralling to watch. We raised chickens for eggs and to eat. We also had a pair of geese. The goal was to let them have a baby and then eat it for Christmas dinner. One year we accidently ate “mama” which was really traumatic. We sometimes had wild goose, but I remember that being really “gamey” tasting. Mom says we would get a turkey each year too and she would name it “Thanksgiving” just so no one would forget why we had it. I have fond memories of being with mom in the goose yard with papa goose on her lap and also the chicken yard. Except when she would go out there each morning to avoid watching David torture me and bring me to tears before school. David would torture the animals too – I wasn’t alone. Papa goose always hissed at David (even when the goose was a senior citizen many years later) – he didn’t forget the torment (which pleased me).

I can remember adults plucking duck or goose, which was fine to me I guess. I hear it was a lot of work getting all those feathers out. The only thing that wasn’t okay for me, was when it was time to kill the chickens. I can remember hiding (and then peaking to see) when they were cutting the heads off chickens and then they wondered around the yard headless, spewing blood. Yuck. I was grateful when Mom and Jack decided it was too much work and would instead crate them and send them off for someone else to slaughter.

A favorite memory is when Mom discovered a snake stealing our eggs. She caught it with her hands as it was leaving the hen house. She held on tight while it peed all over her hands, but no way was she letting it go. Mom was tough when it came to feeding her family. She came a long way in a few years from hippy vegetarian to farm mama. She decided if she was going to eat animals, she was going to learn how to humanely do this from raising them, to slaughter. I respect this (even as a current vegetarian). We all knew exactly where the food came from and not just from some pretty package at the super market. Even though I ate meat it honestly was never my favorite, especially the weird stuff, like muskrat. I did enjoy eating seafood though.

I loved going fishing or crabbing from pots, or more accurately, talking to whomever was doing the work. Sometimes we went up the river or sometimes down at the wharf. Either way it was an adventure. I guess in my eyes, everything was fun and an adventure. Since I didn’t have the distractions of technology like we do now, every opportunity to hang out with elders while they worked in one way or another was entertainment. I don’t recall going hunting with anyone, but hunting was a big deal on the island. Goose, duck, muskrat (yuck), frog and turtle (also yuck) and of course deer.

Deer season was a huge deal in Jack’s family. They ran Kramer’s butcher shop up the road and our family would take off of work and school to work it every year. It provided much needed income and food for our freezer. Deer was our main meat (at least that’s what I remember the most). Everyone on the island ate a ton of deer. Other meat was more of a treat. I guess that goes with the territory of eating what is local and easily available.

Filling our freezers and pantry was a big deal. Mom and Jack didn’t have much income and there were five mouths to feed, so they took storing food, and wasting as little as possible, very seriously when it was available. The grocery list was always intriguing to me. Mom wrote everything down that we needed and kept track of every penny that was spent. I was busy running around the island having fun and eating snacks, while Mom and Jack worked seriously hard to keep it all going. I think having a nice dinner to sit down to, as a family, was the payoff for Jack. It’s part of his German culture as well, especially Sunday dinner.

We always sat down around the table (in our charred-from-the-house-fire kitchen) and ate as a family. Well, at least Mom, Jack and I. The boys, being teenagers, were often gone or preferring to eat stale day-old cinnamon buns from the discount rack at the store. This always horrified me. How could they turn down a beautiful home cooked meal for crap food? I’m still horrified by this concept raising my own teenager.

Foraging for berries was one of my favorite snacks. I can remember getting in trouble for wearing my school clothes out in the black berry patch behind our house. I don’t remember mom baking a whole lot other than cobbler for dessert. That was frequent in the summer and so delicious.

I appreciate that the family mealtime was instilled in me at an early age, both at our home and at the houses of the ol’timers on the island. They ate earlier than us though. It seemed they were still on the rhythm of pre-electricity and the men working the water. Breakfast was eaten early or sent with the watermen to work. The main meal was in the early afternoon when they got in from working the water. The evening meal was very light. I think the main meal was dinner and the evening light meal was supper. Somehow the dogs and I knew when and where to show up for the good stuff – especially the treats. Ms. Dessa’s homemade rolls often awaited me when I got off the school bus or, a fresh pie coming out of the oven. I learned to cook watching the ladies toss stuff in pans, a rarely remember seeing a recipe. (I still cook like that.) They baked a lot though, and somehow I didn’t absorb that knowledge much. But I sure liked eating what they baked. The dogs were well fed too. I remember Mom being horrified one time when Lady had been in a car accident and was recovering so she had to be walked on a leash. Lady would drag mom into yards and there would be fresh fried up sausage or scrapple waiting for her. The dogs and I were well taken care of.

Life revolved around food on the island. But not in fancy pre-packaged food or going out to eat way, like we do now. The men “worked the water” fishing, crabbing, and oystering. Everyone worked in the gardens and helped in storage of the food and the ladies did the cooking. I loved the various smells coming out of the homes as I walked by. Until my Nana died (in her 90’s) she always would call me and ask, “what are you cooking for dinner?” It was a way of life. I am grateful for the respect for food and where it comes from that being on the island gave me.