Tag: garden

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Blessed Are The Butterfly Makers

By Lee Schoenbeck

It may be a slight paraphrase from the Sermon on the Mount, but who can argue with the idea that making butterflies is passing on a little more peace and beauty in the world. If you have a garden in South Dakota, you can make butterflies — seriously. We’re not talking little grey, not-so-special things. We’re talking the granddaddy — the monarch.

It’s springtime and planting butterfly plants, a form of milkweed, will provide hours of enjoyment with your new neighbors, the monarchs.

MONARCHS

These big beautiful flying insects used to have a lot of family and friends in America. Numbers were once estimated as high a billion. Today they have dwindled to about 90 percent less than their 20-year average, or about 35 million. But in our front yard, the monarch numbers are up — in the dozens.

MILKWEEDS

Monarchs need milkweed to survive. Female monarchs only lay their eggs on milkweed plants. There are many varieties of milkweed, and America is actually divided into mostly four milkweed regions. As luck would have it, the east half of the 57- zip code and the west half don’t share the same zone. Being a child of the Coteau Des Prairie, this article focuses on the east half, which is in the Northeast Region.

The butterfly weed, asclepias tuberosa, is a milkweed plant for your flower garden that monarchs love. The plant has clusters of small flowers, and I don’t know anything about them. My wife is the master gardener who finds and plants things like this. I just like what the butterflies do on it.

You can find monarchs on the milkweed in your ditch too, but it’s more fun to have them right outside your door in the garden where you can spy on them.

WATCHING YOUR GARDEN GROW

The female monarch will lay her pinhead-sized eggs on the underside of your milkweed plant leaves. Four days later the caterpillar will hatch from the egg, and those are hungry dudes. The yellow and black striped caterpillars will eat the eggshell, the leaf on which they were born, and a fair number of the leaves on the plant. They can eat a leaf in an hour.

Eventually the caterpillar will attach to a leaf, form a J and, while hanging upside down, spin a silk pocket. As the caterpillar molts the last time it becomes a chrysalis, a pretty green thimble looking cocoon that hangs down from the butterfly plant leaf as a monarch butterfly grows inside.

Eventually the butterfly emerges and sits on the butterfly plant letting its wings dry before flying away. This whole process happens over a few days, and the plants attract many caterpillars. Consequently, you have many chrysalises growing at the same time and you — and your children, if you share — can watch the process unfold in near real time.

DUCK DYNASTY MEETS THE MONARCH

Now my wife is a dedicated and refined master gardener who has never watched Duck Dynasty, but she does make life entertaining around the home place. This past year she saw firsthand the challenges the monarchs face, when on occasion the chrysalis would disconnect from the plant and fall to the ground. Apparently, like a small bird falling from the nest, it’s a challenge for the butterfly to grow and emerge in that setting. Not to be deterred, my resourceful wife found those black paperclips that can hold about 20 pages together and went to work. She would paperclip the chrysalis back to the plant! Personally I would have favored duct tape, but I’m no certified master gardener. Besides, who am I to argue with success? All of the paper-clipped monarchs grew and emerged to be butterflies. Who knew that I married the Mother Teresa of monarchs!

Lee Schoenbeck grew up in Webster, practices law in Watertown, and is a freelance writer for the South Dakota Magazine website.

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To Pick a Pasque

By Fran Hill

If you follow South Dakota Magazine on social media, you may have noticed recent Facebook, Twitter and Instagram posts with a photo of a potted pasque and a request for tips on transplanting this temperamental state flower. When I first saw the photo, I gasped. The state flower? A pasque flower? Photographed in a pot instead of its natural prairie habitat? Wasn’t that illegal?

Many years ago while studying South Dakota history in elementary school, I vaguely remember our teacher warning us that it was against the law to disturb the state flower. Growing up, my gardening mother had a pasque in one flowerbed, but it was a given that we didn’t talk about it. It was one of those dark family secrets, and now this magazine, a representative of all things South Dakota, was flaunting its lawlessness.

I inventoried my finances in preparation for bail money for the staff, did a Google search and consulted a few authorities about this alleged offense. This is when I learned that while nobody was quite sure, it is the general consensus that if a pasque is growing on private land, the land owner (or anyone with the land owner’s permission) may attempt to transplant the flower. If the state flower is found on public (city, state or federal) land, it is illegal to harvest. However, as of this writing and without an exact state statute to reference, nobody really wants to go on the record as to the absolute legality of disturbing this state symbol.

I do love the delicate beauty of the pale pasque flower, one of the first blooms of spring. I understand the allure of possessing its elegant purple natural artistry. However, the taproot of this plant isn’t easily transplanted. It resists being disturbed from pastures and prairies.

I think we may be better off gardening with another early spring plant: chives. I am always excited to see chives as the first sprouts of life in my herb garden. My mounds of delicate green, grassy herbs were easily transplanted from a friend and provide a mild flavor, color and texture to many dishes from my kitchen.

Instead of the short-lived state flower in my garden, I will grow chives all season. Whisking them into fluffy Heavenly Scrambled Eggs creates a delicious breakfast, brunch, lunch or dinner. The delightfully decadent pockets of melted cream cheese may seem so good that they should be illegal, but I know I won’t need bail money for this harvest.

Heavenly Scrambled Eggs

2 eggs

1-2 tablespoons heavy cream (whole milk or half & half will work, but I prefer cream)

kosher salt

fresh ground black pepper

1 tablespoon butter (optional…I DON’T use it with a non-stick pan)

1-2 ounces of cream cheese, cut into 1cm cubes

freshly snipped chives

In a small mixing bowl, combine eggs and cream with a fork or whisk.

In a non-stick skillet, melt the butter over medium-low heat until it bubbles OR just heat the non-stick skillet to medium-low without the butter.

You NEED the pan to be hot before you add the eggs.

Add a little salt to the egg mixture, then pour into pan, stirring slowly with a heat resistant rubber spatula.

As soon as curds begin to form, add the cream cheese cubes and sprinkle in the chives.

Increase heat to high and instead of stirring, use the spatula to fold the eggs over themselves.

As soon as the cream cheese begins to melt (it won’t all melt…there will be pockets of tangy, creamy goodness) and the eggs aren’t liquidy, remove from the heat and serve. I recommend that you heed Alton Brown’s warning: “If they look done in the pan, they’ll be over-done on the plate.”

Season with fresh black pepper and garnish with additional fresh chives, if desired. Serves 1 … or 2, if you are better than me at sharing.

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their two dogs ranch near Colome.

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Stressing the Spinach

By Fran Hill

This spring, as soon as Hubs helped me ready a new raised planting bed, I seeded rows of radishes, carrots, spinach and lettuce. Our newest gardening area had been filled with rich, composted soil from pens at the farm where the lambs are fed, and I was so anxious to see the results of the fertile soil.

Unfortunately, my spinach had other plans. It sprouted, formed a few skinny leaves and immediately bolted and flowered. There was nothing to harvest. I haven’t done a lot of research, but a horticulture source told me that spinach prefers a little stress and my soil might have been too rich for it to flourish.

I guess I might have something in common with spinach. We both work best under a little pressure. Deadlines and events mean that I will make lists, plan and prep, but chances are that things won’t really happen until the last minute. I need a little stress to flourish. Me + spinach = soul mates. Who knew?

I have since planted another row of spinach seeds in an older planting bed with less fertile soil. They have sprouted and are just beginning to leaf. I know that as temperatures rise in July, it isn’t the optimum time for growing cool weather favoring spinach, but hopefully I can get at least one harvest from this new seeding.

I hope to take a bunch of my spinach soul mate and toss it with another love — garlic. It’s a match made in heaven. Whisking tangy vinegar and mustard into a simple vinaigrette to complement the pungent garlic and earthy spinach finishes an uncomplicated salad that is manageable even in stressful times.

Spinach and Garlic Vinaigrette

(adapted from Cooking Light)

1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons white wine vinegar

1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard

freshly ground black pepper

kosher salt

2 garlic cloves, minced (I actually prefer to grate with a micro plane.)

6 cups baby spinach

1/4 cup sliced red onion

Whisk together olive oil, vinegar, mustard and garlic. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Toss spinach and red onion with vinaigrette. (Serves 4)

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their two dogs ranch near Colome.

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Friends or Foes?

By Fran Hill

When we purchased our home, there was an overgrown flowerbed at the back of the house full of old fashioned poppies, tulips, peonies, irises, a lilac bush and several garter snakes. Eventually, many of the flowers were transplanted and the lilac bush was pulled out in favor of a patio for summer lounging, dining and sunning. The snakes moved to other areas of the yard and, friend or foe, weren’t given much thought.

As I became more interested in gardening, we installed raised beds along the property line for my herbs, vegetables and a few flowers. Soaker hoses seemed to be the most effective watering method, and created a damp, cool oasis beneath the lush foliage of cilantro and tomatoes. The snakes were happy and came back. Again, aside from jumping a little when one would slither away as I harvested basil for pesto, I didn’t give them much thought. After all, garter snakes eat bugs, right? It was a natural ecosystem for my garden.

In time, the raised beds were expanded to include a double-tiered area for strawberries and rhubarb. Here was the perfect environment for the garter snakes. The shade of the broad strawberry and rhubarb leaves in combination with crevices between the railroad ties was their new home. My neighbors squeamishly kept their distance, but I would just brush the berry plants with my feet to warn random snakes to move before I reached in to pluck the ripe berries. I was one with nature. The snakes were my friends. Or, so I thought ….

Last weekend, Hubs and I were doing some spring gardening and chores to ready the yard for a Memorial Day cookout when I suddenly, and without a doubt, lost all love for the stealthy lurkers in my garden. As we passed the outside of the fence where the double-tiered beds are planted with strawberries and rhubarb, there, gloriously sunning themselves was a huge ball of snakes. Most were only about a foot long, but squirmed and twisted together in a mass of more than a dozen garter snakes. I was speechless. I was horrified. Instantly, those snakes that I have allowed to feast and flourish in my garden became my foes.

I don’t know exactly what we are going to do about these snakes, but my stomach is in knots just thinking about the den that must be living beneath my berries. They have to go. I can’t be raising garter snakes, no matter how harmless they may be, in my garden. A random snake here and there to rid us of slugs, crickets and ants is great. An undulating mass of snakes must go.

My strawberries aren’t yet flowering, and berry harvest is still a month or so away, but even with my nerves of steel, I might take volunteers for picking if the snakes aren’t eradicated. I can tell you that I don’t go out to cut rhubarb without a sharp butcher knife. I wouldn’t wish this predicament on my worst foe.

If I share strawberry rhubarb crumble bars with you this summer, you can count yourself among my friends. You will know the battle I have waged to harvest those sweet summer berries and tart rhubarb. You will know that the snakes have not won when you taste the buttery shortbread crust, and when crumbs of streusel fall into your lap with each bite you will know the garden is still mine.

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their two dogs ranch near Colome.

Strawberry Rhubarb Crumble Bars

(adapted from Everyday Food and A Farmgirl’s Dabbles)

streusel:

1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted

3/4 cup brown sugar

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1-1/4 cup flour

bars:

1/2 pound rhubarb, chopped

1/2 pound strawberries, sliced

2 tablespoon brown sugar

1-1/2 cups flour, divided

3/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

3/4 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature

1-1/2 cups powdered sugar

3 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a 9-inch square baking pan with parchment paper, leaving 2-inch overhang. Butter and flour parchment paper and pan, tapping out the excess flour. Set aside.

Whisk together the melted butter, brown sugar and salt. Add flour and mix with a fork until large crumbs form. Refrigerate until ready to use.

Combine rhubarb, strawberries, brown sugar, and 1/4 cup of the flour. In another bowl, whisk the remaining 1 1/4 cup of flour, baking powder and salt. Using a mixer beat butter and powdered sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs, one at a time. With mixer on low, beat in vanilla, then flour mixture. Spread batter in prepared pan. Top with rhubarb and strawberry mixture, then top with prepared streusel.

Bake until golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a bit of moist crumbs attached, about 50 to 55 minutes. Let cool completely in pan. Run a knife around the edge of the pan and, using the parchment paper overhang, lift cake from pan. Cut into bars. (Yield: 16-20 bars.)

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Need for Green

By Fran Hill

It is April, and I am experiencing winter fatigue. The weather forecast is littered with snowflakes and temperatures that still require winter coats, hats, gloves and a survival kit in my car if I dare attempt a road trip. It is cold. It is gray. It is dreary. And I am over it.

Usually I am a lover of all seasons. I rush into the first snowfall to make snow angels. My pups and I crunch through fallen leaves in the autumn. I revere the first buds on trees and watching the lawn and gardens awaken. I even worship the sun’s rays on the hottest days of summer. But I have had enough of the snow, enough of the dull and dead brown, enough of the ice, enough wind, enough brutal cold — enough of this never ending winter.

I want green. Fresh. Vibrant. Green.

There are a few blades of grass greening in my backyard, but Mother Nature threatens to dump more snow in the next few days. For now, I think I’m stuck with the green of my home-canned salsa verde.

Last summer’s garden was prolific with tomatillos. Much sauce and salsa was made, consumed, and immensely enjoyed, and my pantry shelves still boast a few prized jars of this green treasure. We use it as a base for the sauce to slowly braise a pork stew, dunk our tortilla chips and quesadillas in it and spoon it over our favorite enchiladas. It is fresh, vibrant and green — just what I am craving during these last days of an ugly long winter.

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their two dogs ranch near Colome.

Salsa Verde for Home-Canning

**If you are unsure of the canning process, there are many informative sites online. I am not a canning authority.**

6 cups tomatillos, chopped

3 cups onions, chopped

3 jalapeno peppers, chopped

6 garlic cloves, chopped

1/2 cup roasted green chiles, chopped

1/2 cup cilantro, chopped (divided)

1/2 cup lemon juice

3 teaspoons cumin

1 tablespoon salt

1 teaspoon black pepper

Combine the tomatillos, onions, jalapenos, garlic, green chiles, HALF of the cilantro, lemon juice, cumin, salt and pepper in a large, heavy stock pot. Stir frequently until mixture begins to boil. Reduce heat and allow to simmer 20 minutes.

Using an immersion blender, puree the sauce until smooth. (Alternatively, working in batches, carefully blend in a conventional blender to desired texture and return to the stock pot). Add remaining chopped cilantro and stir to combine and simmer briefly. (The cilantro could all be included prior to simmering and blending, but saving some back ensures some”pretty” deeper green flecks in the salsa.)

Ladle into sterilized jars with 1/2-inch head space and seal. Process in a hot water bath for 20 minutes. (Yield: 6 pints)

Note: Additional jalapenos can make a spicier sauce. More cumin will enhance the smokiness. Roasting the tomatillos prior to simmering offers a slightly richer and sweeter flavor. Adding roasted poblano peppers (peeled, seede, and chopped) is a deeper sauce. We had A LOT of tomatillos, and I made many variations of this recipe. This is only a basic idea and can be adjusted to your own tastes.

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It Takes All Kinds

By Fran Hill

There have been a lot of food trends during the years I have been blogging. The food-centric always seem to be searching for the next big thing and love to pull the obscure into the spotlight. Professional chefs are one minute leaning into batter-dipped and deep-fried everything and the next showcasing the antioxidant, omega-3, healthful benefits of the new”it” vegetable, grain or protein. It takes all kinds to make the world go ’round, and it is no different with the ever-evolving tastes of the food world.

Bacon has always been a breakfast and sandwich favorite, but the last decade has exploded with smoked pork possibilities. Old standards like meatloaf, green beans and mac and cheese are joined by cupcakes, doughnuts, sushi, ice cream and even vodka with bacon strips, crumbles and flavoring.

A movement toward more wholesome eating brought kale to many restaurant menus and home kitchens. The leaves have been roasted and salted into toasty chips, chopped and added to soups and stews, eaten raw in salads, and there isn’t a day that goes by that Instagram isn’t loaded with photos of kale smoothies…which are, in themselves, another food trend.

Low-carb, Paleo, and gluten-free diets left their followers searching for pasta substitutes. Miles of ribbons of zucchini, carrots, and other vegetables have been sliced, sometimes sautÈed or blanched, and tossed with sauce in recent years. An enterprising company even markets a food processor-like tool just to slice these”noodles.”

Cake Pops, pork belly, cupcakes, doughnuts, coffee, slider sandwiches, healthful oils, chia seeds, juicing and whole grains are all included in current trends. I think that there is a proper balance of the so-called naughty and nice in the list. People are picking up a triple-shot-no-foam-soy-latte and cake pop at their favorite coffee joint in the morning and making salmon roasted with olive oil served with a side of quinoa for dinner. It takes all kinds of things to nourish our body and soul, and there is a food trend to satisfy any craving.

If you want to get in on a healthy food trend, you might want to hop on the quinoa bandwagon. This ancient grain-like seed is loaded with nutritious benefits and easy to prepare. Tossed with sautÈed onion, garlic, zucchini and corn and garnished with cilantro and crumbled queso fresco, this is a dish robust enough to stand on its own as a meatless meal, but works just as well on the plate beside your favorite protein.

Quinoa with Corn and Zucchini

Adapted from The New York Times

1 cup quinoa
3 cups chicken stock
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 small yellow onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup fresh sweet corn, cut from the cob (defrosted frozen corn could be used)
1 medium zucchini, sliced into half-moons
2-4 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped
1/4 cup queso fresco, crumbled (feta could be used)

Add the quinoa to a bowl and cover with cold water. Let sit 5 minutes. Drain through a fine-mesh strainer and rinse until water is clear.

Bring the stock to a simmer in a small saucepan. Heat another medium saucepan over medium-high heat, and add the quinoa. Toast, stirring until the grains have separated and smell fragrant. Slowly add the stock to the pan with the quinoa. (If you pour it in all at once, you could have a quick boil over of quinoa seeds and stock all over your stove…lesson learned the hard way.) Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer for about 15-20 minutes. Drain and return to the pan. Cover and let stand undisturbed for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a large, heavy skillet. Add the onion; cook, stirring until tender. Add the garlic, corn and zucchini. Season with salt and pepper and cook until the zucchini is tender. Stir in the quinoa and toss to combine. Heat through, add cilantro and top each serving with crumbled cheese. Serves 6-8.

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their two dogs ranch near Colome.


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Potatoes and Promises

By Laura Andrews

I was talking to someone yesterday about this year’s potato harvest. It must’ve been a good year for spuds — she had more than she knew what to do with. So do we. For some reason, my husband likes to plant piles of potatoes every spring in our garden north of Yankton. I don’t know why — he doesn’t even like potatoes.

Well, the joke was on him. This year, they ALL produced, giving him and the old potato fork both a good workout. I think we could’ve supplied Clark Potato Day with all the spuds they needed last month. Garden City potato farmers would be jealous of our bountiful harvest. We’ve given away buckets and buckets, eaten mounds of new potatoes, French fries and home fries, and I think there’s more lurking out in the field waiting to be unearthed.

We gave my father, Lewis Johnson, a sackful so he could recreate a taste from his boyhood near Volin. His Grandma Johnson had a delicious method for making Swedish creamed dilled potatoes. She wasn’t a recipe user, but Dad had found a similar recipe in one of his Swedish cookbooks that he was going to get to me right away. Just as soon as he got home. Honest.

Ja, sure, Dad. Three months and several promises later, no recipe. I figured I’d have to wait until he was dead and gone — perhaps bury him in a potato mound as revenge — then go through his recipes. If father’s anything like daughter, the dirtiest, messiest, stickiest pages would mark the most beloved recipes.

I decided to give Lewie one last chance. For once, it worked. It only took one more phone call to get a recipe to share with you this week. Dad says,”They’re just the way I remembered them growing up.” He says they’d be good with dried beef or rullep¯lse. (I’ll explain what that is some other day.)

If you’re feeling decadent, make dilled potatoes the way my great-grandmother would have — use all cream instead of a cream and milk mixture.”I’m sure Grandma never read the damn recipe — she probably just dumped all cream in because it was easier,” he says.

Creamed Dilled Potatoes

From Splendid Swedish Recipes

10 medium potatoes
2 teaspoons butter
1 1/2 cups of half and half, or use half cream and half milk
1 1 /2 teaspoons salt
1/3 cup finely chopped dill

Peel the potatoes and dice into small cubes. Melt the butter in a pan. Briefly sautÈ the potatoes. Pour half and half or milk/cream mixture over the potatoes and add salt. Cover and cook over low heat until potatoes are soft. Add dill and serve. Serves 3-4


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Fran’s Garden Burgers

By Fran Hill

The mere mention of”veggie burger” causes me to involuntarily wrinkle my nose. There is something about a processed patty pretending to be something it isn’t that doesn’t appeal to me at all. I won’t say that I will never eat them, but it isn’t very likely.

I like meat. Once upon a time, I thought I didn’t. I was wrong. Perhaps my taste buds hadn’t yet fully developed. Maybe my limited food experiences hindered my sense of adventure. Definitely I didn’t know a lot about proper preparation for the hunks of protein that I usually cooked to death back in those days. Whatever the reason for my past finickiness, currently I dream about perfect coals for grilling all-beef burgers, slather fruity salsas on salmon burgers and spicy ketchups on turkey burgers, and never, ever, EVER refuse a fried egg on top of any of them.

That isn’t to say that I turn my back on other options. I may not buy packages of questionable creations from the freezer case, but I have crafted flavorful black bean burgers filled with minced peppers, onions and garlic and topped with stinky cheeses that were beyond wonderful. Shredded summer squashes and carrots have been held together with a beaten egg and fried to crispy perfection. Eggplant can be either grilled or breaded and baked or fried for a thick veggie layer with lettuce, tomato and a grooved-up mayo on a toasted bun. I do like MY versions of”garden burgers.”

One of my favorite discoveries for garden burgers isn’t sandwiched between layers of bread at all. Simple and delicious tomato and mozzarella burgers must be eaten with a knife and fork, and it would be a sin not to swirl a forkful of cheese around to gather all the beautiful juices on the plate.

Fresh garden tomatoes are sliced in half, drizzled with olive oil, seasoned with salt and pepper, and topped with slivers of garlic before being popped into the oven to roast. In the time it takes me to walk to the garden, cut some lettuces and pull an onion for a simple salad on the side, the garlic sweetens and perfumes the ripe fruits as they warm and soften in the intense heat. A slice of fresh mozzarella is wedged between the thick chunks of tomato and melts into gooey lusciousness. That’s it. Perfection in just a few ingredients. A veggie burger that doesn’t make me wrinkle my nose at all.

Tomato and Mozzarella Burgers

Adapted from Real Simple Magazine

6 large tomatoes
Olive oil
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1-2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
8 ounces fresh mozzarella cheese
Fresh basil

Heat oven to 450 degrees. Slice a thin piece from the rounded bottom of each tomato, so they sit upright. Cut each tomato in half horizontally. Arrange the tomato halves cut side up on a shallow roasting pan or rimmed baking sheet lined with foil. Drizzle with oil; season with salt and pepper. Scatter the garlic over the tomatoes. Roast until they’re softened and warmed through, approximately 15 minutes. Meanwhile, cut the mozzarella into 6- 1/2 inch rounds. Using a spatula, sandwich each cheese slice between 2 hot tomato halves. The heat of tomatoes will melt the cheese slightly. Drizzle with the juices collected in the roasting pan and garnish with basil. Serves 6.

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their two dogs ranch near Colome.

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Burgers, Bells, Blooms and Brews

By Laura Andrews

Brookings was recently named one of America’s ten best small towns by livability.com. My husband, Mike, and I visited South Dakota’s fourth largest community a few weeks ago. It didn’t take long to see why Brookings was given high marks.

Our first stop was Nick’s Hamburger Shop, a Brookings institution since 1929. The friendly waitress slipped us each a tank-fried Nickburger on a square of waxed paper. As we munched, we watched locals leave with sacks full of the meaty sandwiches.”This is lunch and dinner,” said one.

Sated for the moment, we walked up and down Brookings’ charming main street, admiring the shops along the way. A friendly postman directed us to the local library a few blocks away, near the Children’s Museum of South Dakota.

An exotic aroma lured us up to the library’s second floor, where Mango Tree Coffee was serving Thai vegetable soup. I opted for a rose lassi, a sweet and floral Indian yogurt drink. The Mango Tree is a calm and cozy spot, perfect for library patrons and the local knitters and crocheters who meet there for Brookings Fiber Guild gatherings. My knitting group in Yankton would be jealous if they knew how good Brookings crafters have it!

Our next stop was an odd choice for a couple of acrophobes — the Coughlin Campanile, South Dakota State University’s belltower. After ducking into the Alumni Center for the key, we climbed 185 steps to the viewing area at the top, stopping frequently to admire Brookings from above. There was even more to admire at the nearby South Dakota Art Museum galleries, where works by Harvey Dunn and Oscar Howe and other artists were on display. It was a real thrill to see The Prairie Is My Garden in real life, and marvel at the way Dunn combined blobs and swirls of pigment to create his iconic scene of early Dakota life. Of course, no visit to SDSU is complete without a trip to their Dairy Bar for a dish of butter brickle and a grasshopper fudge cone.

Mike is an avid gardener, so I had to take him to McCrory Gardens, where we were surprised how much difference a hundred-plus miles makes. The peonies and irises that had already finished blooming in our yard in Yankton were just starting to blossom up north in Brookings. There’s over 25 acres of formal gardens at McCrory plus 45 acres devoted to studying trees and bushes. That’s a lot of plants — all beautifully arranged and tended.

All that walking and fresh air helped us work up a thirst, which we quenched at Wooden Legs Brewing Company. The bevy of beverage options was dazzling (117 bottled beers and 21 on tap), but sadly, only one of the pub’s homebrews was available. Though we were there a few days before Wooden Legs’ grand opening, the Split Rock Creek Pale Ale, K¸hl Blonde Ale, Farmhouse Ale and It’s What We Got IPA were already sold out.”People in this town like to drink,” explained our friendly bartender. We can’t blame them. My pint of Wooden Legs’ Three5Three, a milk stout inspired by Irish brews, was deliciously dark. I would’ve loved another, but we needed to stop by George’s Pizza for gyros and calzones before heading homeward, tired but happy after a busy day of sampling a few of the great things Brookings has to offer.

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Trial and Error at the Community Garden

By Rebecca Johnson


Community gardening has a long history in the U.S. It began in the 1890s in Detroit then the government promoted community gardens during World War I to supplement food supply. Gardens helped the unemployed during the depression and the federal victory garden campaign during World War II was used to show patriotism and build morale. Interest dropped off a little after the war, but there was a resurgence in the 1970s and community gardens have been growing ever since (pun intended).

Our Yankton Community Garden started in 2009. It’s sponsored by the Healthy Yankton Committee with grants from the South Dakota Department of Health and the Avera Health Community Service Fund. It’s great for people who don’t own a yard or don’t have the space. Our yard is too shady to grow vegetables, so this is the 4th year my husband and I have gardened in the plots on the west side of town.

We lease two 12′ x 18′ plots for $20 each. Volunteers till the plots at the beginning of the season and water is free–just bring your own hose. Each plot is marked with a 2 x 4 painted with a folksy quote or saying, like”God made rainy days so gardeners could get the housework done,” or”You can bury a lot of troubles digging in the dirt.” My husband’s favorite is”I was determined to know beans.”

We began our first garden without any real horticultural skills. And we’re no master gardeners today, but here are a few things we’ve learned while digging in the dirt.

  • Though“Sneak Some Zucchini on Your Neighbors Porch” day implies otherwise, zucchini is not foolproof. My first zucchini plant got vine borers. I performed plant surgery, slicing the base of the plant to dig the offending grubs out, but the poor thing never fully recovered. Now I watch for moths that lay their eggs on the stems and apply organic pesticide accordingly.
  • “Water evenly” or your zucchini and beets grow in funny shapes and your tomatoes get”bottom rot.” I’m still not really sure what”water evenly” means, though. Does that mean water every other day? Apply the water evenly to the ground? Don’t stand on one foot while you water? Please tell me below.
  • Gardening makes you really interested in the weather. I start a lot of casual conversations with”Did it rain last night?” or”Have you heard if it’s supposed to storm?” I attribute this to my quest to”water evenly.”
  • Weeding is very satisfying, but if you squat to weed for a long time you will get a serious head rush when you stand up. Sit or bend over.
  • When planting, leave more space between plants than you think you’ll need. And even if it seems wasteful, thin plants early and generously. I’m still learning this one. Our melons are slowly taking over and they’re nowhere near finished growing. Sigh.
  • Always bring a bag or bucket to your plot once mid-summer hits. Even if you think nothing will be ready to pick, your garden will surprise you with a small harvest.
  • Last but not least, if your dog poops in your compost pile forget about using it to fertilize anything meant for human consumption. This one’s not quite community garden related, but helpful nonetheless.

I’m sure my list is unimpressive to the expert gardener, but if you’d seen our first attempt you’d know we’ve come a long way. What are some of your gardening tips? Do you garden at home or rent a plot?