Green Spaces in Rural Places

How does it grow, my garden? Certainly not with silver bells, nor cockleshells, which are actually a type of mollusk not found up here on the prairies of Northeastern Montana.

I might speak sometime in the future about the pretty maids all in a row, as my husband and I did raise three wonderful, pretty daughters.

In any case, it does grow an abundance of chives, rhubarb, and raspberries, almost carefree, now that they are well established. It has taken years of gardening to get to the point of trying to keep those under control rather than simply trying to get them to take hold and grow. The chives will go to seed and new plants will crop up in unexpected places.

The raspberries spread freely under the ground, as the roots seek to start new canes in the tilled ground beside the rows, where the growing is easier. They seem bent on taking over the entire vegetable garden plot. Each spring I offer starters to area gardeners through the local new and used site on Facebook. I only ask a minimal amount of recompense, to cover my time and effort in digging them and then delivering to Glasgow. I will still have many more offshoots, which will be dug out and tossed aside, like weeds, to die. Once they are producing berries, I freeze enough for us to enjoy throughout the long winter months, and sell the excess to Reynolds. Some are also shared with friends and family. And some friends will come and pick their own, saving me some effort.

The rhubarb grows from a long, carrot-like root. The plants tend to get larger each year, with huge leaves that overshadow all other nearby vegetation. Early in the spring, with a sharp shovel, the roots can be divided and new plants started. Rhubarb is very hardy, and it seems as though even a small sliver of their root will start another plant. Even though rhubarb is used for pies and sweet sauces, it is a vegetable, not a fruit. 

Each spring, after the long, cold, white winter, I am thrilled to see the chives sending up new growth. The fresh green peeking through the detritus of last year's scapes is one of the first signs that all will be right in my world again.  I start dreaming of all the bounty I will enjoy from my garden. The first few chives to grow will be chopped and added to my baked potatoes, or sprinkled on top of a salad. But soon, there will be enough to make a pesto, which is so delicious tossed with pasta, or spread on crackers, or even added to a sandwich. Pestos can also be frozen, to be taken out and enjoyed in the winter, when you're longing for a taste of spring or summer.

There are many recipes for chive pestos to be found online. Or you could use this one that I've been enjoying recently:

CHIVE PESTO

4C chopped chives

2 oz (1/4-1/3C) slivered almonds

1 clove garlic

1C freshly grated parmesan

1/4 (or more) olive oil

Combine the chives, nuts, and garlic in a food processor. Pulse till finely chopped. Gradually add the oil till incorporated. (You may add a tablespoon or two of water, if needed.) Add in the cheese. Season with salt and pepper, if desired.

Pestos are versatile. Experiment with different nuts, toasted or not. I've used pistachios, walnuts, pecans, pine nuts, and pepitas, all with success. I've not tried peanuts, thinking chive peanut butter just doesn't sound tasty. I have one recipe that calls for cashews, but those are a particular favorite of my husband's, so I leave them for him to consume as is.

Chives are a very attractive plant, so much so that I have mine in a flowerbed just off the front deck. They will make a globe-like purple flower, which is also edible. Once the flowers start to set seed, though, they get dry and tough. I try to chop them off before they are able to reproduce, but am not always on top of that chore. Chives are a member of the onion family, but with a milder flavor, and grow from bulbs. Wikipedia tells me they also have insect-repelling qualities. (I must try planting some amongst my strawberries. But that is a story for another column,)

The next exciting sign of spring, to me, is the emergence of the rhubarb. Those large, encapsulated leaves will poke through the ground. It means the ground is warming, and soon I will be tilling the garden plot and planting seeds. The grass will be greening. There will be small violas and Johnny-jump-ups blooming.

There will be treks through the yard to see which perennials are starting to shoot up stalks, promising future beauty. And my husband and I will be out in our fields, planting the wheat-the crop that sustains us and pays for my gardening.