My mother was from the Deep South. When she moved to California during WWII she brought with her the taste for Okra. As I grew up in Southern California, Okra—fried, fried with green tomatoes and stewed with tomatoes showed up on our dinner table whenever it was in season. I’ve always enjoyed it, especially fried, and experienced it many different ways in my time in Asia and Europe. Here in SW Montana, Okra doesn’t seem to be that popular and apart from the peak of its season, it rarely shows up in the vegetable departments of local supermarkets. However there is one store that seems to carry everything and in the middle of winter you can still get Okra for $6.95 a pound. That’s too much to pay for a pound of Okra. more…
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Guest Blogger: Mary S. Kuss
I’ve never liked cold weather, and the older I get the stronger this aversion becomes. What my Mother used to call a “weather breather,” combined with a bad case of Cabin Fever, might lure me out to wet my line during the winter months. I need a day with a high of at least 50 degrees, and not much wind. I will then go out for an hour or two in the warmest part of the afternoon, and if no feeding fish are seen I may never step into the water. Just walking along the banks and watching the stream and the life in and around it, getting some fresh air and mild exercise, is a worthwhile endeavor.