Digging carrots from the garden in 80 degree weather just doesn't seem natural for the end of September. There were a surprising lot of carrots, considering I never got out there to thin them for salad as I’d promised myself I’d do.

So I suffer now. I spent the afternoon in the kitchen processing the carrots for freezing. Now, the non gardeners among you will be thinking “How nice! People out there are still preserving food.” But the real gardeners will think, “Why doesn't she just put them in the root cellar”?

Well, these carrots needed to be processed because chipmunks or some other critter started eating the carrots at the top and went as far into the ground as possible, leaving a concave depression with all these little tooth marks and making those carrots no good for root cellar storage.

On the other hand, I'm not overly fond of cooked carrots. Thank goodness for my mother's old Farm Journal Cookbooks, which contain recipes from generations of farm wives. They knew how to preserve food: Take 12 pounds of carrots, etc. I wound up with candied ginger carrots and orange glazed carrots. I’ll be very happy this winter to take them out of the freezer.

The beets also needed gathering. Something bigger than a chipmunk had enjoyed the beet greens, and the roots themselves weren't as time consuming to process. I just picked out the ones that were split or nibbled on and cooked them. I stashed the rest away in a cool place to be brought out much later.

As the sun was sinking, I went out to get a few (I thought) beans for dinner. Lugging the full basket back into the house, I set about preparing them. These aren’t just any bean, but scarlet runners. My friend from England introduced me to this heirloom variety. They not only produce the most beautiful red flowers all summer and fall, but the beans themselves taste better than ordinary green beans. They are so beautiful many people grow them just for the flowers and don't even know how good they taste. You have to pick the pods before the beans inside start to swell. If you have to “string” them, they’re too old, fit only for the compost.

I got them all cut up and didn't have the heart to do any more freezing that day. As my husband walked through the kitchen he casually asked if I was freezing them. I told him, “No, we’re having some hot for dinner and I’ll make the rest into a bean salad that should last the rest of the month.”

While I’m on the subject of heirloom varieties, the Brandywine tomatoes are hitting their full stride. We got them into the ground very late. Most years at this time the plants would be hanging down in the cellar slowly ripening their fruit away from the frosty outside air.

Brandywines are so good! No other tomato beats their taste. And big! A couple of years ago I remember picking with pride the first ripe Brandywine. I washed it and sliced three half inch slabs that completely covered the bread for that first tomato/mayo sandwich. This particular tomato was so large I put the rest of it in the fridge and we had it for a salad that evening. I haven't had one that big in awhile, but I did bring one to share with my hiking group today. Everyone tucked slices into their sandwiches except for the one with the peanut butter sandwich. She ate her share separately.

The winter squash are still out there. If nothing has been nibbling on them, they go right into the cold room. No hassle. Thumbing through my gardening magazine, I found a lovely article on horseradish. Something else I’ll need to harvest before too long.

Have you ever tried to process horseradish? Oh, the tears you shed! After my first experience, my mother told me she used to hold the root outside a mostly closed window and grate it out there. Good idea. I'll put my food processor on an extension cord and see how that works.

My mother gave up canning and freezing well before she was my age. She lived though the time when you had to do it to survive the winter. She stopped when they moved off the farm and thought supermarkets were just great. Well, they are, but home grown food tastes better, at least to me. Knowing what went into growing the produce, harvesting it and preserving it for the long winter gives a feeling of security not just because I can have something to eat, but because I still know how to do it. Will the next generation have these skills?

By Carolyn Enz Page, Community Tree Steward