Aunt Norie’s Sewing Room
My daughter Glenda in Texas said, “Oh Mom, tell ’em about your edible weeds,” adding, “I love those leaves in my salad.”
Last year one came up in my flower bed. I protected it, ate its leaves all season long, let it go to seed. Now this year I’m really enjoying it, a pot of greens now and then, in salads, nibbling on the leaves as I work in my yard even.
Lambs Quarter has been a favorite for centuries — so like spinach, I’ve always thought. Folks who favored the plant let it grow in an area, garden or yard, even canning it for greens in the winter.
One of its special features: none of the usual insects, bugs or worms seem to like it at all. As I grew up, my mother went looking for wild greens, I think all women did back then. City gals loved to go to the country — a friend or relative’s farm, to the timber, along the roadside, etc. You’d see them out, sunbonnets on, a basket or pail, strolling along, kids and all.
Dad loved to fish. Growing up in northeast Kansas, north of Topeka, west of Holton, at Elk Creek with its swimming and fishing holes. We made a day of it, picnic lunch and all. Mom always came home with a big mess of wild greens. She cooked them up so yummy.
Bye for now.
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