Homes never smell like vinegar baths anymore. When I was a wee one there was an informal holiday around my house that I guess could have been remembered as “Canning 
Day.” Much of this holiday’s kitchen rituals remained a mystery to me, but the days leading up to the “great pot” were like Easter and a safari combined. It was my job to roam the hills or the draws harvesting anything from wild plums to mustang grapes. Then, through a vinegar haze, these wild gems somehow became jam.
These efforts at gathering in the wild crops from the creek and bramble are only one branch of the redneck supported agricultural tree (which has now become endangered). The second, and more important, is gleaning. Some today might call this stealing, but come on.
Calf fry anyone? Do you think Obama knows what a Rocky Mountain Oyster is? Cause I think it might be time for a little testicle festival. I hope it is o.k. that I cross politics with sustainability for this blog entry. Hey, there should be such a thing as sustainable politics, shouldn’t there?