I don’t know how she does it.

My sister has a green thumb the likes of which I have not often seen.

She can grow just about anything.  Despite the fact that she lives in the part of this country where summer can quickly turn into winter and sunshine into rain or hail or worse.  The growing season there is short.  And still she works miracles.  Her dahlias which are actually annuals, she digs up and stores away and puts them back in the ground ‘next year’.  Her dahlias could win awards for the size of them.  I planted some this spring.  They are two feet high, spindly, most pathetic looking and nary a bud to be found.  I am hopeful.  Not sure that is entirely practical or realistic.  Nevertheless, hope is buried deep within me and I am watching eagerly for the first sign of flower life.

The flower thing is annoying to me but I manage to keep discouragement at bay.  There is however, another plant that will not produce anything but the odd minute stalk in my garden.

Rhubarb!

Now, I have been told, mostly by this sister and our mother that rhubarb is very easy to grow.  It is apparently somewhat like a weed and can become a nuisance as it ‘takes over’.   It is perennial and comes back year after year, bigger and more ‘fruitful’ (pun intended)

At first I believed these girls and set out to grow my own.  As a matter of fact, my aunt generously dug up a beautiful piece of her own rhubarb plant and tossed it in a bucket and I, with great anticipation drove it to the perfect spot  and planted it the best I could and then

waited.

I suspected after two years of waiting that perhaps, I had a problem.  Then, dear Nano shared some very important information with me.  You must keep it well watered and free from weeds and other plant life that might creep into it’s space.  This news  would have been valuable two years earlier and I realized that easy to grow  should come with a  disclaimer, if you know what you are doing and follow a few simple but very important rules.  Needless to say, I did the only thing left to do.  I gave up!  I quit!  Tossed in the towel!  I don’t really like rhubarb anyway.

Yes, I resorted to lying to myself so I would feel a bit better about my poor gardening skills.

The truth is, I love beautiful gardens.  I could sit and look at a bed of flowers for minutes on end.  Here though, is the crux of the matter.  I dislike (not quite strong enough) gardenING. This sister has told me several times that she loves to dig in the dirt and plant and nurture what she sees growing.  Her garden is proof that what she says must be true.  You surely would not spend all of those evenings and mornings working and cultivating and pulling and watering if you couldn’t stand doing it.  Surely.

So we have established that my rhubarb (and other) growing skills are lacking and yet I  so appreciate the bounty that comes from the hard work of others.  That is one reason I like to visit a market.  Whether it be Granville Island in Vancouver, or St. Lawrence, just down the road and around the corner and past a few other streets, from me.  I like to stop at small farm stands along the roads I travel and am thankful for the hours of toil these farmer/gardener folk commit to.  Theirs is a hard, without much financial reward, kind of life.  Some of them do it because their grandfather before them and then their father, did it.  The land is part of them and they could not  consider doing anything else.   Growing is serious business to these people.

I am thankful for them.  I am thankful for what they produce.

Interesting word.

One of those in our english language that is a verb as well as a noun.  

I commend them for their ability to produce produce.

For a time, when I was a wee lass, I lived in a community of farmers.  Regularly we, the preacher and his family, were presented with gifts of fresh vegetables and honey and chickens and I remember that time in my life.  It is as vivid today as it was all those years ago.  Cold winters and windy, sunny summers.  Full of growing and hard work, picking and “putting up”.

We didn’t have much  but we were content with what we had.  It was all delicious.  I think one reason I find cooking such a joyous thing to do is because of the freshness I get to do it with.  There are not many things we cannot find if we decide to created something delectable.

So back to the beginning of this tale of discouragement.

Rhubarb

I went to the market a couple of days ago and looked and pondered and considered and picked up a few things and decided as I did all of this, what I would make for our guests last night.  I know it is not a terribly efficient way to prepare to cook but that’s how I often do it.  I like to see what’s out there.  At times I stumble upon an ingredient that becomes the main event and I hadn’t even considered it.

So what I am getting to now is, I stumbled upon a package of rhubarb.

The leaves were gone and it looked nothing like that in my sisters garden.  My mouth began to water.  Rhubarb is funny like that.  When I look at it I start to get the krinkles in that spot in my mouth where the sour taste buds are.  I saw the rhubarb and I saw the fresh Ontario Strawberries and there it was.  Dessert!  I only needed to decide what form this strawberry and Rhubarb dessert would take.

I brought it home and washed it and set it aside and carried on.  The next day it hit me.

Vanilla maple rhubarb with ice cream and strawberries.  Add to that some fresh cookies, a dark chocolate on the saucer and there you have it.

I hope you will enjoy this easy, delicious dessert.  Try it!  Simple sometimes brings more pleasure than the complicated.