Notes of a Wannabe Farmer

"In the early 1980's, my lived in a small gray house on what I now realize was a half-acre backyard homestead situated on a quiet, tree-lined street in Nampa, Idaho. I was just a small child then, but I still remember the vegetable garden my parents planted each year, tucked away in the far corner of our backyard." – Carleen Madigan, from The Backyard Homestead







There must be something very visceral about childhood memories that include the dark spaces and dank smells of grandparents' home. Up until the suburban housing revolution, it seems fairly safe to say that most of us probably have something like them anyway, maybe it was an attic, often times a porch, or some portion of an old garage where the smells of oil and dust commingled and turned to everlasting images. I remember well the farmhouse basement of my grandparents, with the creeky see though stairs, the chipped concrete of the foundation, a surprisingly unusual stand-up shower in the corner with nothing more than a circular curtain, and then, the masterpiece of all memory, the canning cellar. This one was quite small, full of cobwebs in every corner, and to the child's eye something that did not in any way seem like it would useable. It looked more like something that had been passed on from the previous generation; the pickles in their brine and tomatoes floating like suspended red orbs did not look like anything gotten at a grocery store. Yet there the pickles would appear come the magic dinner hour served alongside the soft farm bread and butter, the pot roast and potatoes, and had a kind of singular taste that tasted like the farm itself. These were the very same memories and images that combined with the hay loft up above the barn; the cow stalls, filled or not, the granary and the dairy production in its own building along the side. Canning equipment on its way via Amazon delivery, I feel its time to take an urban stab at canning and see if I can create my own dank cellar full of wispy cobwebs and anticipate the smells that rise at the first crack of the jar lid.