Transport your mind back to the late-19th century. It's autumn of 1872, and you've taken a homestead claim on the High Plains. Everything in the world that you own is in your small shanty. You have to provide for yourself and family with what you can hunt, grow and raise on this never-before-cultivated soil, plus the last of the provisions you brought west with you. There's no Amazon, GrubHub, DoorDash, or Walmart delivery.
Snowfall came earlier than you expected, but late enough to harvest most of your crops and produce. There are no snowplows, no supermarkets, and no SUV to get you into town even if you had the means to buy your food.
The snow is fresh and only 8 inches deep. You have a choice. You can sit by your fire and start in on the foods you've put up for winter. Or, you can go out into the snow and see if there's anything that can be picked to make into meals in the next handful of days, thus delaying the date when your set-aside, finite provisions will run out.
This is the spirit that motivated me to head out into our snowy winter landscape and see what I could pick to add to meals in the next few days. Our light dusting of snow turned to 8 inches the other night. I've harvested almost everything from the garden. But I want to get as much as possible out of it before the plants die.
Here's the Brussel sprout patch. Brussel sprout greens and kale are the greens most likely to survive snow and cold. The leaves are still edible.
I clipped a bucket full this afternoon to bring inside. I'll be able to pick another bucketful tomorrow, too. I'll keep harvesting until there's nothing left to pick. And then, and only then, I'll begin on the veggies that we put away in the freezer for winter meals.
Our plan has been to get as far into December as we can, harvesting what's available in the garden. Later this month, we'll switch to frozen and canned veggies.
Remembering those pioneers who trekked west, bringing with them not much more than grit and determination.
