Fresh from Wellspring Charitable Gardens - January 15, 2026

Fresh Today… Purple Broccoli, Chinese Cabbage, Carrots, Celery, Butternut Squash, Spinach, Lettuce, Potatoes, Green Onions, Cilantro, Parsley, Lemons & Oranges

Using your Produce… by Julie Moreno

This week I have a recipe for a creamy spinach dip that highlights the fresh, earthy flavor of our spinach. Spinach is a leafy green that reaches its peak flavor in our area during the cooler winter months. Cold nighttime temperatures help the leaves develop a deep green color and a naturally sweet, mild taste that pairs beautifully with cream cheese and herbs. Made with just a few ingredients, the dip makes a delicious seasonal appetizer to enjoy with bread, crackers, or crisp vegetables.

Spinach Dip

4-6 cups spinach leaves, stems

        removed, coarsely chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 tablespoon butter or oil

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon pepper

8 ounces cream cheese softened

1 tablespoon chopped parsley

Bread, crackers, and vegetable

   sticks for serving

* In a large sauté pan, cook the spinach with butter, garlic, salt and pepper, until tender, about 2-3 minutes, until wilted. Let cool, then place in a strainer to remove any excess water. When cool, stir in the cream cheese and parsley. Serve with bread, crackers and vegetables.

Purple Broccoli?

Perhaps it’s fate, but more likely fickle preference, that determines what we are often remembered for.

I never saw a Purple Cow,

I never hope to see one,

But I can tell you, anyhow,

I’d rather see than be one!

                                                                       F G Burgess

I never ate a Purple Broccoli,

I never hope to eat one,

But I can tell you, honestly,

I’d rather a Purple than Green one!

                                                                      George H W Bush

Frank Gelett Burgess, The Purple Cow poet, was an American artist, author, and humorist. He graduated from MIT, worked for the Southern Pacific Railroad,  sketched his way through Europe, and then taught topographical drawing at UC Berkeley.

"I do not like broccoli. And I haven't liked it since I was a little kid, and my mother made me eat it. And I'm President of the United States, and I'm not going to eat any more broccoli."

Roasted Carrots…

Cooked carrots bring memories of mushy, boiled vegetables, but roasting changes everything. Properly roasted carrots develop a caramelized, crisp exterior and a tender, creamy center. For best results, dry the carrots well before tossing them with oil and seasonings. Don’t shy away from high heat - 425°F is ideal - and give each carrot plenty of space on the pan so they roast instead of steam.

Carrots with Lemon and Parsley

5-7 carrots, sliced in half                   

        lengthwise (the long way)         

½ tsp salt                                               

½ tsp fresh ground pepper                

2 medium garlic cloves, minced

1 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

2 tbsp chopped parsley

1 tsp lemon zest

* Preheat the oven to 425° F.  In a large mixing bowl combine the carrots, salt, pepper, garlic, salt, and oil and stir well. Put the seasoned carrots onto a parchment lined baking sheet with the flat side down. Roast about 25 minutes, until browned on the edges. Remove from the oven and toss with the parsley and lemon zest before serving right away.

Metaphors of Soil and Soul…

Letting Go

Cindi J. Martin

Blustery autumn winds and late fall rainstorms mercilessly stripped our fruit trees of their beautiful multicolored coats. Surprisingly hope remains, despite the storm driven loss: tiny buds grow at bare places on boney limbs once adorned in glorious leaves. Observe closely and you will notice that new growth was already nudging those decaying leaves toward their risky plunge downward. Nascent buds foreshadow spring, though on the eve of grim winter, wind and storm violently detached those lovely leaves and dispatched them summarily toward earth below, their final resting place.

Trees endure storm and wind driven loss while quietly welcoming their budding hope. Soon, in the spring warmth, those buds will burst forth as delicate flowers or verdant leaves. Thus the familiar cycle repeats: glorious petals wither and fade in the late spring heat. Then comes the nudge, and the fragile petals drop to earth to make room for the growth of sun-ripened summer fruit. Comfort comes in knowing that the delicious fruit forms despite the despised loss.

Each season of life involves some measure of letting go to make room for growth. In the barren grief born of that loss, we rarely recognize the budding promise that nudges once beautiful but now fading glories toward their final rest. We are reluctant, even loathe, to imagine that grim loss could ever make room for lasting gain. Do you sense the LORD nudging you to make room for new growth, nudging you to release something precious and once beautiful but now faded and no longer needed? Do you hold too tightly and resist release, despite the coming, inevitable free fall driven by relentless winds and severe storms? From trees may we learn to yield readily as God nudges. May we in hope let go and make room for glorious new growth. I can imagine the trees clapping their hands as you yield to Him and let go in joy and peace!

“For you will go out with joy and be led forth with peace

and the mountains and the hills will break forth into shouts of joy

before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.”

                                                                                                Isaiah 55:12-12