It seems I am not the only one waiting for spring in central Maine. McGee is waiting, too—very patiently—for the planting to begin in the Inch-By-Inch Garden at the grade school in town. Not for a while, McGee. (I don’t know what his real name is or whether he even has a name, but I’ve dubbed him McGee.)

In the meantime, today—as spring is taking its time to come—the crockpot has white beans simmering along with some chicken bones, and I’m thinking about how food is more than nourishment for the body. If the white bean dish is tasty, then I’ll post the recipe some time this week. I also plan on writing about food and memory.

McGee, on the other hand, doesn’t care about any of those things. He’s just ready for spring.

Last week, my husband, Clif, and I went to the 72nd Maine Agricultural Trade Show at the Civic Center in Augusta. On a cold January day, it lifts the spirits to walk around and look at all things agricultural. Maine, a rural state, is blessed with a vibrant food culture, which in turn supports farms and farmers. This trend is heartening, a very bright spot in a state where poverty and inequality are high. After all, what could be more essential to life and health than good food produced by Maine farmers?

There were many exhibits to look at—over 150—but there were two that especially attracted my attention. The first was Fedco’s display of heirloom apples.  I had heard of only one—Northern Spy. The rest were unknown to me. What a wonderful diversity of shapes and colors.

The big, red apple—Wolf River—in the lower right-hand corner really stood out, but apparently size doesn’t matter when it comes to apples. The man at the booth told me that these apples aren’t very flavorful and that they were mainly used for pies. “Put in enough sugar and spices, and any apple tastes good, ” he said. (Unfortunately, I did not get the man’s name.) Wolf River’s claim to fame is that you get a lot of apple after peeling it. Here is a closer look:

Fedco also had T-shirts, and I promptly bought one. I will wear it not only when I am occupying my own yard but also when I am biking.

Now, I am someone who loves it when food samples are available at a booth. After all, how do you know if something is going to be tasty until, well, you taste it? You don’t. And food that looks enticing in its package might not be as delectable when you actually eat it at home. Oh, yes, this has happened to me more than a few times. Thus, I nearly click my heals with joy when a vendor has samples, and when those samples are cooked pork, I feel as though I have hit pay dirt. (I’m not sure if it’s because of my Franco-American roots, but pork is my favorite meat.)

Luce’s Meats had a full array of sausage samples, including Breakfast, Maple Breakfast, Sweet, Hot, and Chorizo. Clif, of course, liked the Hot Sausage while I liked the Chorizo. However, we both agreed on the Maple Breakfast, and we went home with a frozen pound, which we plan to use at the end of the month when we have friends over for brunch.

Finally, I have a thing for green John Deere tractors. I don’t know why. In general, I am not at all drawn to machines, but there is something about those green John Deeres that is irresistible to me. At the Ag Show, there was a huge, green John Deere tractor, and I just had to take a picture of it.

Oh, how lovely and green it was. Just the tonic for winter, when spring seems so far away.

On Saturday, Team Good Eater took part in the Walk for Hope, MaineGeneral’s fundraiser for breast cancer. I have been walking in the Walk for Hope ever since I was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago. Through MaineGeneral and its affiliate the Harold Alphond Center for Cancer Care I received such excellent, compassionate care that I wanted to give something back to help other women who were dealing with this terrible disease. Perhaps what I like best about this fundraiser is that all of the money stays in the community, and much of it is used to help women who are either uninsured or underinsured. Indeed, when I was about to begin treatment, I was even  offered an allowance for gas, which I fortunately did not need.

In many cases, we humans are better together, as my friend Sarah Fuller would say, and Team Good Eater was formed to include my daughter Shannon and our friend Alice Johnson, who has also had breast cancer. For the past three years we have banded together to raise money for the Walk for Hope. On the day of the walk, we have been joined by family, friends, and a dog—Liam!—and this year Team Good Eater comprised Shannon and her husband, Mike; Alice and her husband, Joel; me and my husband, Clif; and our trusty dog, Liam.

Saturday was one of those October days that was piercingly beautiful. The sky was a brilliant blue, and there was a decided nip in the air that let us all know summer had indeed ended. The walk started in the parking lot at Sam’s Club in Augusta, where a huge tent was set up with a registration table, food tables—how good that bagel and hot chocolate tasted—and tables with a myriad of pink items for sale.

From Sam’s Club, the walk went to the wooded trails at UMA and then looped back up to Barnes & Noble, eventually ending at Sam’s Club. It was about a three-mile walk.

I saw, of course, other women I knew who had either had breast cancer or were in the process of going through treatment, and there were plenty of hugs. One of the things that is especially impressive of about this walk is the feeling of joy and yes, hope, that fills the event. This is not a gloomy walk. In fact, it’s almost festive. Another thing that has always impressed me is the range of walkers who participate—young, old, and in-between, men, women, boys, and girls. After all, breast cancer affects everyone in the family, not just the women dealing with it, and with 1 in 8 women being diagnosed, that’s a lot of families having to cope with breast cancer.

After the walk, Team Good Eater came to our house for chicken soup, corn bread, and brownies. We spent the afternoon chatting, buoyed by the joyous feeling of the walk. While there was some talk about breast cancer, most of the conversation centered on family, movies, and politics.

I would like to end with a couple of happy numbers: Team Good Eater raised $1,080 for the Walk and overall $130,559 was raised. Go team Good Eater and go Walk for Hope!

Notes from the Hinterland

In my last post, I wrote about Clif’s birthday and our bike ride from Hallowell to Richmond and then back again, a trip of about 20 miles. We rode along the Kennebec River, which, as I have noted before, is not mighty but is beautiful nonetheless. I also included pictures.

In the comment section, our friend Kate wrote, “What a beautiful part of the world to live in and live in it, you and Clif do, with such honor and joy and love.”

What a wonderful comment! And it gave me the idea for this post, the notion of living in place, of being totally immersed in the area in which you live, and then loving that area, warts and all.

Naturally, qualifiers are in order. Some places are harder to love than other places—poor, war-torn countries where just getting through the day is a struggle; countries with repressive governments; countries with nonexistent social services; countries where education is not a right for all children. In such places, people often want to get out, and for good reason.

However, in the United States, a significant number of us are lucky enough to live in communities that are safe and at least have some social services. (Yes, I know that there are exceptions here as well, and I will get into this in a future post.) We have public education that is open to all children, not just the privileged few who can afford it. As for food…while food insecurity is an issue for some people, for many, many people, even those living on a modest income, the issue is not eating too much rather than not having enough to eat. Hence, our obesity epidemic.

My crystal ball is no more accurate than the next person’s, but in the upcoming years, we, as a country and as a planet, are likely to face some significant challenges as a result of climate change and energy costs. In Maine, gas for the car is nearly $4 a gallon, and I do think it’s safe to say that the days of cheap gas are over. At the same time, the world is getting warmer, climate change is here, and this means that even if we can afford higher gas prices, we should limit the driving we do. Everyone who owns a car, and I mean everyone—environmentalists do not get a pass on this—is part of the problem.

Now, staying close to home by choice does not sound like the most exiting way to live. We are a restless species. We like to see what’s around the next bend, so to speak, and there is no denying that travel can be very broadening.  Yet in an increasing hot world with finite resources, staying close home is what most of us should do most of the time. Sorry, but barring a Mr. Fusion that runs on garbage and can be strapped to a car, that’s just the way it is. Another qualifier: Visiting with family and friends gets a pass, but even then, we should make every effort to visit them in as sustainable a way as possible.

So how do we make a rich, rewarding life for ourselves if we stay close to home most of the time? Here is where I return to Kate’s comment: By living in our communities with honor, love, and joy, by becoming immersed in where we live, by noticing all that is around us, by becoming involved in civic events, which even the smallest, most rural communities have. So many good things could happen to this country, to this world, if we began to cherish our communities—the people, the plants, the animals, the lakes, the rivers, the forests, the fields. If you live in an urban setting, this can even include the sidewalks and the pavement. I was born in a small city, and as a young child, I have a vivid memory of going to the market. Under a canopy, there were crates of fruit on the sidewalk. It had just rained, and the smell of wet pavement mingled with the smell of peaches and melons. For me, it was the smell of summer, and I loved that smell. In fact, I still do on the occasions that I am by a city market when it rains.

In my next post, I will write about my area—Winthrop, Augusta, and central Maine—and I hope these posts get you thinking about your area and ways that you can become immersed in it.

On the edge of the Winthrop Grade School, on a piece of land that gets full sun, is the Inch-By-Inch Garden, a little patch started four years ago by Karen Toothaker, Margy Burns Knight, and Tom Sturtevant. As I ride my bike, I pass the garden nearly every day, and I have watched the garden expand over the years.

“The first year, the seventh graders planted radishes and lettuce,” Margy told me. “And this year we have beans, tomatoes, basil, garlic, and sunflowers. We told the children that we’ll get beans if there is no frost.”

A very good lesson on the vagaries of Mother Nature.

Margy gives garden talks to some of the grade school classes, and “the whole garden revolves around literature” as she finds books about various aspects of gardening for the children to read. Margy hopes to add flowering bulbs and blueberry bushes, the latter, of course, being a perfect match with Robert McCloskey’s Blueberries for Sal. Kuplink, Kuplank, Kuplunk.

Steve, Margy’s husband, has a worm farm in their basement, and he gave a show-and-tell worm farm talk to some very enthusiastic second graders, who were apparently thrilled by the worms.

Various members of the community have tended the garden in the summer, when school is not in session. Weeks were allotted, weeding and watering were done, and the garden has thrived.

“Next year, we’ll put in 5 more rows,” Margy said. “Inch-By-Inch. The name of our garden comes from a Dave Mallet song.”

I’ve come to love this little garden, modest but getting bigger each season. May it continue to grow and flourish.