Bob’s Market in Wellsville has created a very corny tradition
A COLUMN by Chuck Wiser, I Write the words to share what my eyes see and my heart feels
The title may seem a little “corny” but this is the season for freshly picked sweet corn and Bob’s Market in Wellsville has the best you’ll ever find. I say that with at least 4 years of experience having had a few fresh daily meals and then by purchasing a full bushel of the corn grown especially for canning, or in our case, for freezing. After preparing, cutting the kernels off the cob and freezing in small family serving containers we store them in the freezer so as to enjoy the corn year around. Once thawed and re-cooked they seem even sweeter than when they were fresh. I made that comment to a fellow Bob’s customer the other day and she agreed with me wholeheartedly. The “freezing corn” is now available, and I bought my usual bushel at a cost of $29. Well worth the very reasonable price for the quality.
The only downside to the process is the process of removing the kernels from the cob. I’ve tried a couple of products in the past, but they are far from perfect and a little cumbersome to use. This year I made a special cob holder to help a little. I had an old “cutting board” and so I drilled a hole in its center and then inserted a stainless-steel screw, so the point end protruded through the top by about a half inch. This will keep the cob centered on the board and helping to hold it whilst I “de-kernel” it.
The apples are now in season as well and they too seem especially sweet this year. I suffered a little disappointment yesterday though. I can see our Macintosh apple tree from my Sun-Bird Room recliner seat and I have had my eye on one apple, in particular, that stands (or stood) out by its redness. I was waiting for several days to let it ripen. Yesterday I couldn’t see the apple, so I went out to the tree. There it was, but it was lying on the ground half eaten. The deer, and they seem small but plentiful this year, will stand on their hind legs and reach high up into the apple tree. That’s what happened to “my” apple.
Staying “In The Garden,” which was one of my mother’s favorite hymns and now mine as well, the zucchini in my garden box isn’t growing very big, but are especially good, this year. I had to pick up a couple from the little garden stand on Cty. Rte 31 the other day so I had some for “stuffing.” I also had to get the last couple of cucumbers so as to maintain the nickname the owners gave me. The elderly lady who owns the farm calls me “The Cucumber Guy,” as her son told me one day when I stopped by. They grow what are called “seedless cucumbers” which can grow to over a foot long but remain at a fairly thin diameter of around an inch or inch and a half. They are not completely seedless, but the seeds are small and the cukes are very flavorful. I grew them one year in a pot and they did fairly well. This year’s favorite vegetable/fruit is a mini-sized purple grape tomato. My wife saw them advertised on QVC so she ordered the potted plant variety. The plants flourished and I have been feasting on them for the past several weeks and there are still dozens left to ripen. I guess I can say that I replaced my Grammar Groans with Garden Grins.
Local garden stands abound in our area. Please frequent them as they are generally family owned.
My frequent wakefulness seems to be growing, especially as “older” I am growing. It is not unusual (anymore) to become fully awake at any hour after midnight. 1:30 AM and 3:30 AM seem to be my favorite times of wakefulness. I have started calling the wake-up time the “Whiching Hour.” That is a play on the term Witching Hour, and in its own way is very similar. The “Which” in “Whiching” refers to which symptom will cause my wakefulness; Candidates would include Vertigo, Occipital Neuralgia, Leg Cramping, or as happened last night the pain caused by an apparently bothersome sleeping position. My left shoulder has a titanium shoulder joint implant. Every once in a while, I will have been sleeping in an awkward position that it doesn’t like and it wakes me up to let me know that. Oft times I will have slept the whole night through but when I do awake and get out of bed my shoulder reminds me that I had been sleeping wrong again.
The joys these days are of getting “old-er.” I cherish every moment of it. As I’ve mentioned before, my mother passed away when only just turned 62 years old. She never collected a penny of her well-deserved Social Security deposits. My duty to her is to live long enough to collect not only my benefits, but those of hers as well. I never dreamed that I would still be “going strong” at 80 years of age. Nearly all my closest friends have already passed away and I miss them dearly. RIP Tom Geyer, L.J. Muscato and Dave Dunbar…as well as my sister and all other previously departed family and friends. Melancholy Moment is now over, and I will now continue Wrambling with more of an upbeat tone and reference.
At 80 years old I am grateful to still be able to go out and play golf several times a year. I haven’t joined a local golf course as a season member despite usually planning to, but I have played in several tournaments. Every year I team up with Chase and Gary Robbins, and we play in what are called Scramble golf tournaments. In this format, usually featuring four person teams, every player hits their ball off the tee from what is called the “Tee Box.” After the shot which is called a “drive” they then decide which of the 4 shots would be the best to play from and from which each player will hit another shot. This continues all the way to a more closely mowed area called “the green.” Then they all take their putt to attempt to put the ball into “the Cup.” I can’t hit the ball nearly as far off the tee as I used to but I generally will pull out a long “chip shot” or “Putt” to be able to justify my contribution to the team.
Last week my son Todd and I played in the ARC Tournament at the Wellsville Country Club. I had one particularly joyful moment during that tournament as Todd was telling the other players about a tourney we played many years ago wherein, I made a comment while putting that I hadn’t made a long putt all day, but then promptly putted the ball into the hole on a very long putt. Todd then proceeded to chip the ball from off the green and it rolled about 20 feet, and into the cup. What a great coincidence. We laughed for several minutes.
For most people who at one time or another may have played golf the above is an oversimplification of what they already know. I had hoped to wramble on a little for those who may never have played golf. My wife’s disdain for the game reverts back to her high school gym class days when golf was introduced as an activity which she describes as “trying to hit a little white ball a little way then chasing after it to hit it again.”
I never touched a golf club or played golf until I was at, or around, 40 years old. My physical sporting activities included fast pitch softball playing at the old Wellsville softball fields and at the Lagoon field. I was indeed honored a couple of times to travel with “the father of Wellsville fast pitch softball”, Wellsville’s own Bill Simons on his traveling tournament team. As a side note Bill would often host a corn roast at the end of the season and obviously the feature was corn on the cob cooked whilst still sheathed in its “husks.” That is when and where I learned to love roasted corn. Bob’s market, Bill’s old place is where I still get the corn that we eat and freeze as mentioned above.
It would seem that all of the Rose Breasted Grosbeaks have now left for their wintering spot down south or in Mexico or wherever they go. The last few that were around right up until this past weekend only consisted of new fledglings and a male or two that stuck around to guide this years crop on their migratory journey. I did get a couple of pictures of a couple of them but they are or were similar to the one displayed on the poem I wrote several years ago lamenting the seasonal disappointment of when they have to leave. We are still blessed with a few hummingbirds and what appears to be a bumper crop of Northern Cardinals. We are, and will be blessed by the presence of the Cardinals all year round.
If you have any comments, cares or concerns or especially a topic you would like me to wresearch and Wramble about please feel free to email me at IM.Wisedad@gmail.com.
