Game Day!

Bud loves baseball.  My darling husband loves baseball.  The laborador retriever loves baseball.  I, on the other hand...well, I love the Boston Red Sox when they are doing well (and end up doing well...which, for most of their history, is generally not the case).   I played T-ball for one season and that was about all of my baseball experience.  I switched to more exciting (to me) activities like horse-back riding and tennis.

Last summer, my darling husband staked out a part of one of the horse pastures for the Chobani baseball field (Chobani, the Greek yogurt brand, is headquartered the next town over).  The boys would go out there and play every evening, and they convinced me that it would be fun.  Every so often I would join them.  They stuck me in the "field" which encompassed playing first base, second base, and the outfield concurrently.  I got pretty good at fielding, and my arm isn't half bad either.  The problem was, I didn't have my own glove.  I would use Bud's when he was batting (which was most of the time), and then I would switch to my husband's left handed glove (which means I wear it on my right hand!?) when he was batting (which meant I got pretty good at throwing with my left hand as well).  For my birthday this year, I asked for a baseball mitt from Bud, and he got me one.  I'm actually quite excited about it!

My darling husband loves, loves, LOVES Little League Opening Day (he's coached Bud's team for the past five years).  He loves the pictures, the parade, the mayhem!  Bud is of course a big fan as well.  I, on the other hand, get a little overwhelmed with 400 elementary school kids swarming around in complete chaos!  This is why I taught middle school.  You can reason with middle schoolers.   This is also why I continually bow down and kiss the feet of any elementary school teacher!  I try to avoid all the hoopla and just show up for the actual game to cheer Bud on.

This year, however, my darling husband was called away from his Opening Day Duties rather suddenly.  I had to pinch-hit so to speak.  I was genuinely happy to help out although my mind set was "it's only a few hours...you can do anything for a few hours".  So I jumped right into the fray and the chaos.  Except... there wasn't any fray or chaos.  I had built up Opening Day in my mind to be this overly dramatic, complicated whirlwind.  But, careful planning had paid off and everything ran  smoothly and was very enjoyable.  The field was decked out with the traditional balloons and bunting.  All the teams assembled on the in-field and the Masters of Ceremonies said a few words and thanked the sponsors.  The jazz quartet from the high school played the National Anthem.  Then one of the players threw out the first pitch to open up the season.  I was assisting with concessions, and with the help of four or five teenagers and a Little League Board member we were able to take care of everybody's needs.  It was all very simple.  I took some time to soak up the activity and thought how this is what Bud is going to remember--a family-oriented, fun celebration of America's favorite past time.  When he's a dad or an uncle, he's going to remember marching in the Little League parade every year, chatting with his buddies, swinging the bat, and hearing the crowd cheer him on.  A lot of preparation goes into making Opening Day what it is.  It's not fancy or extravagant, but it's so meaningful.  And when so much hard work goes behind the scenes by dozens of volunteers who all respect one another, it turns out to be a wonderful, time-honored, and cherished tradition for so many of our children. 

So, good luck Phillies.  May you play well during the 2012 Season of Little League Baseball!

Acknowledging The Struggle, Part II

I'm back in Upstate after my three week excursion to Montana.  My nursing program starts in a month so I have a few weeks to finish up some odds and ends, as well as get our new Farmers' Market off and running.

Returning to my post a few weeks ago, I realize that part of the struggle that I and others face in terms of wanting to live simply and fully is that we also enjoy the perks of our modern, consumerist world.  I enjoy going out for a romantic dinner at a fancy-schmancy restaurant with my husband.  I enjoy traveling to exotic places and being pampered. Sometimes I even dream of living like royalty on a permanent basis. I am thankful that I am able to purchase a vehicle when mine dies; I'm thankful that my husband and I own an old farmhouse and several acres of land.  I'm thankful I can run out to the 24 hour supermarket if I am in dire need of some item.  I do enjoy the convenience of all of these.

So how did I get to this place where I enjoy extravagant experiences and nice "stuff"?  Are we, as humans, somehow born with a need to always want more?  Is it a completely learned behavior?  If I had never experienced any of this growing up, would I still yearn for it now?

But more importantly, is there a way to reconcile living simply with enjoying extravagance from time to time?  It sounds so oxymoron-ish to me.   I struggle with this on a daily basis.  Today, I'm satisfied with the plywood countertops and painted plywood floors of my kitchen; tomorrow I know I will want a full kitchen remodeling job so it looks like something out of Country Living.  And don't get me started on the fencing!  Our horse-tape on T-posts fencing is certainly suitable, but then I gaze longingly at the farm up the hill where they've had miles of real wood posts and high tension cable and rail fencing professionally installed.  I know, I know...I shall not covet my neighbor's fences!

Does it require a huge down-payment of time and energy (and complication) to get everything in order to ultimately live simply?  I know this is not the case because there are many, many people who just say "to hell with it" and take themselves right off the grid.  But I can't do that.  I am too tied into the system at this point in my life to cut all connections; I wouldn't feel safe or comfortable doing so.   I am therefore going to have to accept this tension and hopefully learn how to create some positive synergy from these two opposing forces.

Happy Monday everybody!

A Home Birth

I'm going to preface this post with saying that any person who endeavors to raise a child/children is amazing and any woman who gives birth is also amazing.  The process of birthing is a life-altering, emotionally/physically/spiritually challenging time regardless of how or where it is done.  Any woman who gives birth should feel proud of her accomplishments and her partner should feel equally proud about being present at whatever level possible.

While women have been giving birth for millenia, no two birth stories are the same, and this is as it should be.  Throughout the hours or days that a woman labors, throughout the 40 weeks that she has been pregnant, throughout her life reaching back to her own conception, thousands upon thousands of genetic and environmental variables have contributed to the particular path that a birth will follow.  Some of these variables are within her control; most are not.

I had the great privilege of witnessing a home birth earlier this week.  While I'm still processing the entire experience, there are several points I'd like to elucidate here.  Women tend not to give birth at home for two reasons.  First, they are scared about potential problems.  Second, the amount of pain during a natural childbirth seems unmanageable.

To address the first, we are all very grateful that hospitals exist in case there is a complication.  However, the event of one is unlikely.  Really.  Assuming the mother is reasonably healthy, if allowed to follow their natural course, over 90% of births will result in a healthy baby and a healthy mom without any interventions. Since the midwife follows her client carefully for at least 8 months prior to birth, she can pick up on any problem before the mom actually goes into labor (pregnancy toxemia, placenta previa, etc). If indicated, care is then transferred over to the medical specialists.    If issues arise during the actual labor or delivery, including if the mom doesn't feel that she can truly labor through the pain (the couple and midwife usually agree upon a code word for this before labor), there is a hospital transfer.  People who choose a home birth are not jeopardizing the life of their child. What we see happening in western medicine is that birth is approached as if there is always going to be a problem.  The midwifery model of care is prepared to deal with minor problems, will transfer for major ones, but does not expect that there will inherently be issues.  Birth is a normal process, not an illness.  It is also beneficial to remind ourselves that there is a very wide range of "normal" when it comes to birth.  Some women, like this new mom, are actively pushing for 5 hours.  I know of one woman who was in active labor for 42 hours.  She labored at home for 39 of them because she wanted to be in control of her environment although she did not feel comfortable actually giving birth at home.  As long as it was clear that the baby was not in distress, she did not want to go to the hospital until the very last minute. 

The above examples point out a huge benefit of home births (and to a varying extents, giving birth in a birth center or with a very progressive hospital staff): control over one's body and environment.  In the case of my sister-in-law, she chose who was going to be at her birth (her husband, her midwife, her sister-in-law and one of her best friends) and who was not going to be at her birth (sorry Sam,  no dogs).  She was intimately familiar with her environment.  She chose where she was most comfortable laboring and giving birth. During early labor, she and her husband walked circles around their living room.  When I arrived, she was in bed on her side.  Throughout labor, she moved to several different locations, and experimented with several different positions, ultimately deciding that the best position for her was on her back in her own bed.  But these were her choices. She was allowed to stay hydrated with her favorite drink (grape juice), and if she felt like it she could have had something to eat.  She had meditative rain DVDs cycling through the entire labor experience as well. The noises from the street below were all familiar to her because she was in her own home.   She felt a sense of safety because if anything did go wrong her midwife, whom she had grown to love and trust, would tell her.  She relied on the midwife's skill and expertise, and was comforted to know her midwife was there for the entire time my sister-in-law needed her. 

As for the pain, my sister-in-law did say it was the worst pain she had ever felt in her life.  There are philosophical, physical and emotional reasons why some women choose to have unmedicated births, but I'm not going to address those here.  I'm simply going to tell my story as a witness.   During the labor and birth, for the most part, my sister-in-law was relatively calm and focused.  She maintained her sense of humor throughout.  There was a period of time about four hours before the baby was born, probably when she was transitioning, where she hit a mental wall and was clearly distressed and overwhelmed by the pain.  The midwife acknowledged her distress and said that she will find her way when she needs to.  Instead of demanding that the mom push through these horrible contractions, she suggested that the mom could simply breathe through them.  The midwife also explained that the baby "needed to turn that corner" and it would be necessary to work through that pain as much as it hurt but she will find her way just like the baby was finding his way.  And, the new mom did find her way.  She turned that corner with the baby, got into a new position, found her groove and methodically pushed through the pain, bringing her son into the world.  Women's bodies are made to endure this pain.   It was really interesting how in the last hour of pushing we all sort of got into a rhythm which was almost unspoken.  Mom would nod, her support people would help support her, and she would push through the contraction.  Then she would have two minutes of rest which were much needed (incidentally, inducing with pitocin can bring on such sudden, severe contractions that the down time between contractions is not there, which often leads to the intervention cascade of epidural followed by C-section.  This is also why most hospitals now refuse to do VBACs, because pitocin contractions are so much more violent than natural contractions and do risk rupturing previous incisions in the uterine wall).

What is it that I find so particularly awesome about home birth midwives?  For starters they've attended hundreds of births and have seen the entire range of normal.  They approach the birth with an aura of calmness combined with love and wisdom.  After the birth, the midwife sat down next to my sister-in-law and her new baby and mentioned that every woman goes through that self-doubt phase and they all come out of it.  Obviously, this would not have been necessarily helpful to say in the midst of labor.  She wouldn't have believed those words. When my sister-in-law exclaimed in the throes of transition that she could not do it and that all her effort and pain was not helping at all, we, as her support people, just said "you are doing it!  You are awesome!  You are amazing!"  Her midwife kept reassuring her "You are doing fantastic.  You are doing it just right!"  Because in essence, she was.  There is no right way to birth.  And for a first time mom, it is a learning experience to figure out how to push to effectively move the baby through.  But there was no sense of urgency among anybody present.  There was no rush to get anything done.  Obviously, mom wanted the baby out (as did the rest of us), but her support people, including the midwife, were there to provide emotional and some physical support to her as she figured it all out and worked within her own body at her own pace.  The midwife consistently checked the baby's heart beat, which remained strong throughout, and certainly provided significant technical assistance (and reassurance), but she was not actively "managing" the birth.  She sat at the foot of the bed for the last few hours, while the rest of the support people surrounded the mom.  The last hour of pushing was very effective, and about 15 hours from the onset of contractions (early first stage of labor), my brother and sister-in-law welcomed their son into the world.

The midwife stayed for another two or three hours. Baby rested on mom with dad close by for about an hour before the midwife stitched up a small tear and examined the baby.  During that resting time, the midwife  completed some necessary paperwork and then showed us the placenta, explaining how the different parts functioned, as well as creating some fabulous placenta tree-of-life prints. While examining the baby, she showed the couple how to care for the umbilical stump, and answered any questions they had. She pronounced the baby "practically perfect in every single way" (which he is).  She made sure mom's bleeding was under control and that the baby was well on his way to figuring out nursing before she left.   Her standard protocol is to come back the day after the baby is born, the third day after the baby is born, and then at a week, two weeks, four weeks, and six weeks. 

It is worth noting that my brother and sister-in-law were well-prepared to birth at home.  In a day where not many people go through home births and therefore expecting couples are not hearing about stories or experiences from their own mothers or close friends, it is wise to be educated from other sources.  They had taken a 24 hour Bradley course as well as another overview class about what to expect during birth.  My sister-in-law went to prenatal yoga classes and learned more relaxation techniques and how to breathe deep from her belly. They would also call or email their midwife whenever they had questions.  Likewise, for the last two months of prenatals, the midwife came to their apartment for appointments so she could develop a pretty good lay of the land and know how to maneuver comfortably within their environment.  

As a future midwife, and particularly one is who is studying via the Certified Nurse Midwife route where I will see and assist in a lot of hospital births, I feel so fortunate and honored to have been able to witness a home birth as my first birth.  If and when the fear-mongering western paradigm gets to me, I will be always be able to reset my internal compass back to my nephew's birth.

Acknowledging the Struggle, Part I

As readers know, I have been fermenting for quite some time, and quite unexpectedly, in a little coffee shop in downtown Missoula, I had a bit of a revelation.  I'm sure the caffeine (of which I'm not supposed to partake), the yummy bearclaw, and the majestic snow-capped mountains that envelope the small city of Missoula, provided me with an environment where I was able to subconsciously process what has been going on. 

I was reading the inaugural issue of a new periodical, Taproot and I found myself having this physical reaction to literally burrow into the arms of all the writers and photographers.  Here is a community of people who "get it". 

For years my darling husband and I have been attempting to live more simply and sustainably.  "Sustainable" has different meanings for different people, and people are drawn towards sustainability for many different reasons--economic, environmental, social justice, spiritual--to name a few.  For me, the whole concept of sustainability encompasses all of these reasons.  I think Shannon Hayes, author of Radical Homemakers, touches a large part of what I have been feeling in her essay, "Cultivating the Rich Soil of Our Lives":

We live in bizarre times, victims of a post-industrial era that, for the sake of efficiency, has segmented our culture into factions--some produce the food, some produce the education, some produce goods and services.  This segmentation fails to acknowledge our need to be human, to engage in daily work that feeds our minds and our bodies and reestablishes our oneness with the earth.  Perhaps more carrots can be produced, more books can be written, more art can be created, more kids can be schooled, more numbers can be crunched and more albums can be produced if one person plants carrots, and someone else writes the books, and someone else paints pictures, and someone else teaches our kids, and someone else crunches the numbers and someone else plays the music and someone else cooks the carrots.  But none of us is experiencing what it means to be fully human, where our unique minds and bodies work in harmony with our spirits and nature to create and provide for our wellbeing.  I believe this segmentation of our lives becomes a source of despair. 

And despair it is.  As I mentioned in earlier postings, our little village is setting up its own Farmers' Market.  The concept is a good one, and yet I am finding that something as simple and as vital as providing food for our neighbors gets bogged down in the economics of the situation.  In order to be vendors, we need to purchase rider on our homeowner's insurance.  In order to sell certain types of food, we need to become certified to use a commercial kitchen.  All of this requires cold, hard cash. All of it requires that we go through layers upon layers of red tape. I'm not lazy.  I like hard, physical work.  I fell content and valued and whole when I plant or harvest or care for livestock.  But I just want to give you the darn head of lettuce, and in return you can give me a bar of soap.  Or give me cash for the lamb, and then I will invest that cash into wood for heating next year. Why does something so simple always have to become so complicated?  The very process of working through the bureaucracy chips away at the primal and spiritual connection that we should have with our environment.  It certainly drains the life-giving force from me as I ponder in these moments of despair if the farming and the living off the land is really worth it.   Is it truly possible for us to all slow down, to reevaluate what is really important in our lives, and still be able to thrive in our world today?

First Friday: Variations on the "braided" rug

It's a good thing these First Fridays come once a month, because it forces me to get my butt in gear and  finish projects that I start.  I have actually finished a lot of projects, but I give them away as gifts, forget to take pictures and/or don't want to write about them until after the recipient receives them.

How many of us grew up in a home that had at least one braided rug?  When settling down in my own home, I started pricing these out and they are not cheap. I was fortunate to inherit two large rugs from my parents as well as a smaller one.

When I was faced with 35+ pounds of wool roving last year, I was trying to think of ways to use the stuff up quickly!  Spinning all of it would take forever (and indeed, it is a slow process...a 100 yard skein of yarn is about 3 oz--you do the math).  Mother K from my spinning group had actually crocheted a "braided" rug out of roving and it was beautiful, and used a lot of roving!  I am no expert crocheter but I know how to make a simple chain.  So I set about making a rug for a wedding gift for my brother and now sister-in-law.    It turned out well, and after a washing, felted a little bit to make it hold together more.  Unfortunately, I have no pictures. To get the shape for an oval rug, you increase on the ends every 5 loops.

Another method that I have discovered involves making i-cords (shown above).  Again, this is not technically a "braided" rug, but it has the same type of appearance.  Another spinning group member showed her finished project last month.  This method does require the use of spun yarn, so it doesn't use as much wool as the previous method.  However, it is a great way to use old yarn left-overs, particularly if you are not too concerned about colors.  Since we moved the inherited braided rug from our bedroom to the kitchen, we only have bare floor to place our feet upon in the morning. There is no way I will be able to construct a 8x10 oval rug with this method, but I can construct two smaller rugs.

There are plenty of videos on the web for how to make i-cords.  Below are two different methods (if you don't have double pointed needles, you don't want to use the first method).

 

 The second method can be done with regular needles.  On every row, you want to knit the 1st, 3rd, and 5th stitches and slip the 2nd, 4th, and 6th stitches onto the other needle as if you were going to purl.   The video below demonstrates.

Once you have your i-cords, you simply have to stitch them together with carpet thread. 

 

I'm in the middle of stitching this round rug that I made with homespun yarn. As you can see, it is slow progress (hence the wine). 

 

I wanted to make a more oval shaped rug for my bedroom. Just from trial and error, it seems you have to be very exaggerated in the shape of your oval when you start.  The brown and white round rug actually started out more oval-ish, but I only started with about four inches of straight cord before I turned the first corner.  In the purple and gray one, I have a 12-inch straight cord before I turned the cord.  This rug will be made up of various scraps of yarn I have lying around (some of it, like the purple is homespun and dyed (with Kool-Aid!), alternating between lighter and darker shades. 

So happy rug making.  Hopefully, by April's First Friday I will have an update on the finished products!

Fermentation

This post is not about home-brewing, although we do have three carboys (15 gallons) of "hooch" currently fermenting in our kitchen.

Rather, this is about my own personal fermentation.  I have been reading On Becoming an Alchemist by Catherine MacCoun these past several weeks.  Before you all decide that I've completely gone all mystical, I do want to point out that her approach to alchemy is about transmuting the self.  For example, transmuting desire into devotion, false roots into confidence, territoriality into integrity, vulnerability into compassion, and obsolete desires and ambitions into magical will.  That last one is what she calls "fermentation" and magical will is basically an unconscious will.  For example, after fermenting, one may wake up being able to do things that he or she didn't previously know how to do. Or, one may find that his or her subtle perception (perception of energy and things that aren't matter) has sharpened.  There's nothing really hocus-pocus about alchemy; it's just a greater state of awareness.  If you've ever practiced mindful meditation, then you've worked on your subtle perception, and are practicing one aspect of alchemy.  

MacCoun is quick to point out that the whole process of transmutation is messy; it doesn't feel good.  When we go through calcification (burning) it feels like all hell is breaking loose.  When we experience fermentation, we have the blahs.  I definitely have the blahs.  It has manifested as a sort of stagnation, which has shown up not only mentally, but also physiologically (reduced circulation).  I'm sure I could fit my symptoms into a western medical paradigm (Seasonal Affective Disorder?, Raynauds?), but I prefer to use this more holistic approach as I feel it better encompasses who I am, who I was, and who I will become. 

On a related vein,  I had lunch with a good friend and former colleague or mine a couple weeks ago. We were talking about meditation and self-awareness and the idea of the inner saboteur came up.  We are all familiar with this concept and I think many of us struggle with it.  My saboteur comes in the form of "This is a really great idea, but I'll just put it off" usually because I have no idea how to implement it.  I am not a go-getter nor am I a natural leader.  For example, I could have pursued a lead to get a full cord of firewood through barter on Craigslist.  I had a 1998 Civic lying around ("out to pasture") that I would be willing to barter.  But I didn't pursue it.  My friend said "Don't let your inner saboteur get to you".   MacCoun's philosophy points out that the inner saboteur might really be your spirit sabotaging your material self for a greater purpose.   Self-sabotage may not be a neurosis, but instead a sign of wisdom and I took comfort in that thought.  I ended up donating the car to the Kidney Foundation and we bought a half cord of wood (that's a half of a full cord) from a farmer down the road who also sells us grain and hay.  It was a situation that I felt more comfortable with, and while I like the idea of bartering, our farmer friend is aware of that preference and is definitely amenable to bartering in the future, but it didn't work out in that particular circumstance.

Anyway, I'm sure I will continue to ferment for a while yet. It's not a bad thing; it just is.  Keep that in mind with the ups and downs of life.  The uncomfortable and/or tricky parts of life facilitate our growth, not our demise.

Top Three Unexpected Country Moments of 2011

I know we are already well into the second month of the year, but while spinning some wool this evening, I was inspired.  And I haven't been inspired in a while (hence, no posts) so here it is.  Three of the top unexpected country moments of last year.

3.  At spinning group back in December, we were going around the circle for show and tell (I know, sounds elementary, but it's how we get to see each other's work and share ideas and upcoming events).  We get to Mother K, who is a nun and shepherd of actual sheep at the local convent.  Mother K had spent all day tending to the animals and had basically decided she needed a break for a while, so she came to  spinning group.  She stated somewhat sheepishly (no pun intended), "Nobody there knows I'm gone."  Then in a more playful confident tone, "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than to seek permission!"  Maybe I shouldn't be surprised by this statement as country nuns are people too and need breaks just like the rest of us.  And they certainly aren't infallable either.

2.  The husband of a friend of mine who is a nice guy and a "real" farmer and do-it-yourselfer (rough around the edges, slaughters his own beef cows, owns multiple tractors, hays his own fields, fells his own trees, builds his own house) stopped by one morning asking me for advice.  The questions were initially about nursing school, which caught me even more off guard, because it was the last thing I would expect from this person (he was looking into pursuing a "real" career).  We stood around for a while, looking at the pigs, talking about farming, the new USDA-approved slaughterhouse opening up, the harvest, etc. like any country farmers would do.  Huh.  While my darling husband has been able to navigate this road much more easily than I (no doubt in part because he is male and the perceived "head of household"), it only took me 5 years of running a small farm to earn some farmer respectability.  Not bad, in the grand scheme of things.  Kristin Kimball writes about a similar experience on her farm in The Dirty Life (I can't quote it exactly because I lent the book out to somebody but I don't remember to whom!). 

1.  My darling husband and I were sharing a quiet meal together in the kitchen one December day when the dogs started barking.  Old Farmer J down the street (another "real" farmer) was at the door.  He wanted to know if we were interested in a Kitchen Table discussion about local food and fiber.  Here is a guy who has worked on a farm his entire life, who puts up 10,000 bales of hay a year,  sells his own grain mixtures and basically lives off the land, and now is spear-heading a local movement.  While we have bought hay and grain and lumber from him for the last three years,  he is probably the last person I would put under the label "visionary".  And yet, here he is, driving up and down the valley, stopping at all the farms, big or small, wondering if we would be interested in such a discussion.  The group has already met twice, and what a lovely range of farming personalities.  The group consists of a couple life-long, honest farmers; there are several yuppy farmers; there are the farmers who want to be organic and use environmentally friendly practices; there are farmers who want to raise exotics; there are farmers who want to barter; farmers who want to sell their goods down in NYC.  We have already decided to set up a farmer's marker right in our little village on Thursday afternoons during the growing season.  Goods ranging from fruits and vegetables to honey to the fiber arts to meat to homemade goat milk fudge and breads will potentially all be available for sale.  Even if it never really gets off the ground, the fact that this particular person had a vision and acted on it is a testimony to all that is good and surprising in the world!

A Brief Hiatus

Happy New Year everyone!  I hope you are all enjoying the first few days of 2012.  I am taking a break from the blogosphere in order to simplify my life for a while.  I have just started an intensive 2-week course (a whole semester compressed into two weeks!) and really need to focus on that as well as my pathophysiology.  In other words, the blog is taking at least the first half of January off! 

The gingerbread house!

As you may recall last Christmas we made a conscious decision to simplify the holiday season.  We did not get a Christmas tree, we did not overly decorate the house, we did not buy a lot of "stuff" and we did not send out Christmas cards.

This Christmas, we're doing much of the same (although we did buy a tree from a local tree farm).  We made most of our gifts (as did my older brother and his wife apparently--can't wait to try the peach sauces!) and I did not send out cards again (I don't think there is a good picture of the three of us anyway from this past year). 

Bud is now sitting on my lap dictating the following sentences...
 
We did however, attempt our first gingerbread house.  The result below is all edible as gingerbread houses should be.  The recipe (and templates) for the house came right out of Joy of Cooking.   Bud and his dad tastefully decorated the house and the yard, complete with a version of the Phillies baseball park called Citizen's Bank Park.  The outfield was made of strips of apple flavored licorice.  The other side of the lawn contains a garden (made from nerds) and a dog made from left over gingerbread and Good n' Plentys with a gumdrop head.  Notice the bowls of leftover candy in the back of the picture.  We have continued to consume this sugar throughout the weekend giving us all sugar highs and subsequent sugar lows (and snarly attitudes).  Tonight, at least, my darling husband will be making homemade chili, which should revive us in time for the last work and school week before the holiday.  

      

Growing up, my father (B's Grandpa Karl) often got carried away with the annual gingerbread house.  By the end of the gingerbread era in our household, we had a totally furnished and well-lit two-story gingerbread house complete with dormer, stained glass windows, and a working chimney.  The yard included picket fences, forests (made from upside down ice cream cones), driveways, automobiles, children building snowmen, and pets wandering around.  I believe we even had smaller graham cracker houses encircling the main house for other folks to live in.

It was always a sad day on January 1st, when the three of us kids would unceremoniously smash the house (or village, as may be the case).  Then, to the horror of my parents, we would greedily eat the stale and not so tasty pieces of gingerbread, frosting and candy.  I am surprised that none of us came down with salmonella poisoning (you have to watch out for that Royal Icing) or some other bacterial infection!  

(and now  Bud starts writing the post from my perspective, showing off his fabulous typing and spelling skills)

My son thought the gingerbread house turned out to be incredible. Even though his first thought for the ginger bread house was to make it the White house. He got a little carried away (like my father always did). My son got inspired for the white house when we went to the Eastman house to see the gingerbread collection. After we went to the Eastman house my son was just amazed by all the neat things we saw.

In addition to the gingerbread house we are making all sorts of cookies. In fact when I finish my blog post (which my son is proofreading) we are going to decorate the cookies with green, blue, white, red, yellow, and a few other colors of icing. Right now we are going to decorate the cookies! 

Well, we just finished making cookies. I will tell you how it went! Well first my son and I went out to the kitchen where my husband was making Chili. We had peppers near us and my husband decided to eat one. He was coughing and his throat was burning and he had to eat bread and get water and he was doing that for 5-10 minutes. Meanwhile my son was laughing his head off and couldn't breath he was laughing so hard because my husband's mouth was burning. My son said "Dad you are quite weird" and that set me on the track of laughing. My son laughed for about 10 minutes and he was rolling on the floor and all that. Well after that it turned out pretty good. Me and my son made all the cookies and decorated them and my darling husband was OK.  That was most of what happened when we were making cookies.

The Floor

Floor pictures, finally!  A little background: we wanted to tear out the carpet, because it was completely disgusting, but we weren't sure what to do with the floor (and we weren't even sure what was under the carpet).  In the long term, we want to put down wide pine boards as that's what's in the rest of the house.  But we don't have the money or the time right now.  We ended up using milk paint followed by tung oil.  The following briefly describes the process.

Sadly, I don't think I have any of when the utilitarian carpet was down, but just think school corridor or church basement and that's what was on our kitchen floor.  The red part (to the right) was not covered by this carpet.  Thankfully, said carpet was not glued down and the plywood underneath, while painted, was in relatively good condition.  By the way, all the scrapes on the red area are due to the door opening and closing. 

This is after we sanded the whole floor (we brought some furniture back in as we had the floor like this for about a month or so). We used a drum sander and an edger.  It took us about three hours (6 person hours) to sand it down.  We weren't too concerned with getting rid of all of the old paint, because we wanted the finished product to look old and distressed anyway. 

A spinning friend had mentioned the use of milk paints as a floor covering.  It's an old-fashioned paint made from milk and lime.  It comes in powdered form and then you add water.  The colors are all historically based (which is a good thing when we're talking about an 1840's farmhouse).  Unfortunately, not many places sell the true milk paint anymore.  I ordered ours online at The Real Milk Paint Company, but there is also the Old Fashioned Milk Paint Company.  The burnt umber color I ordered was dark upon application.  It dried to a really light color though. 

So this was what the milk paint looked like when wet.  It dried to the point where it was a light cocoa color, and you could see the grain of the plywood beneath. 

I purchased two gallons of PURE Tung oil (NOT the tung oil solvent that you find in hardware stores) from the same place I bought the milk paint.  I then mixed in a solvent in a 50:50 ratio.  We didn't want to polyurethane the floor because it's toxic and it gets such heavy use, which would mean we'd have to sand and repoly the entire floor every so often. Once the solvent in the Tung oil evaporates out, the floor is kid and pet friendly. If we need to touch up, we can, without any prep work.




The instructions said to keep applying coats until it doesn't evaporate off the floor within 20 minutes.  For this particular floor, that meant four coats.

I immediately wiped down the floor with an old rag, and then we tried not to walk on it for two days.  Ideally, one should not walk on the floor for a couple weeks, but really...come on...it's a kitchen floor!  We were careful not to track in (much) dirt, but it's a farm, and we have dogs and a nine year old boy!

We brought down the braided rug that was in our bedroom and put it beneath the table.  It works really well, since our (plywood) cabinets are blue too.






We also had a smaller blue braided rug that we put by the fridge.  And I had a beige runner (which you can sort of see in the background of the picture to the right, which we have between the sink and our chestnut work table.





In a perfect world, I would have waxed the floor after putting the Tung oil on, but it's not a perfect world, and for a confluence of reasons, the floor is not waxed at this moment.  At some point in the summer, I can imagine putting another application of Tung oil down and then waxing it.  But it looks good and seems to be holding up well.   It is going to get wear and tear, but after all, it is just a floor. 

First Fridays: December wreath making

Where has the time gone?  I have two posts in my mind (one is on the kitchen floor, the other concerning turkeys and toilets) but obviously have not written or published them.  And, right now, it is December 2nd, which means it's  First Friday post time!

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to go help a neighbor make wreaths to support our sustainable living group (and to learn how to make a wreath).  The wreaths were going to be auctioned off in the annual village "Adorn-a-dore" contest which supports our local community art gallery in town.  So, it had to be at least a decent looking wreath.

What I discovered, is that using grape vine as a frame is the BEST THING EVER (well, at least when it comes to making wreaths).  It is the most forgiving natural material I have ever met.  You can use it dry or wet, and you just keep twisting the vine upon itself until you have the shape you want.  Unfortunately, I don't have pictures of the wreaths we constructed for the auction, which had a high bid of at least $75 (our informant left before the auction ended), but this morning (when I should have been studying pathophysiology) I spent about 45 minutes making a wreath for our household. 

The options for materials are endless, but I used evergreens, rose hips (holly or winterberry would also obviously work), some sort of dried seed pods, and white wool.  Here's are some photos to inspire you.  And I do want to remind everyone that I have ZERO creative or artistic talent.  I am an analytical, in-the-box thinker, and this was actually not that difficult to do, thanks to the grapevine. Also, the only "non-natural" part of the wreath is the little loop of wire attaching it to the nail.  There are no plastic or metal frames, wires or ties.  Again, thanks to the grapevine.

You can twist the grapevine into a variety of shapes.






Adding some greens.  I used two varieties from evergreen trees we have, but don't ask me what varieties.  One was more prickly than the other, that's about all I can say!  I just sort of wove them into the grapevine.





Adding rosehips and some seed pods. 





I added sheep's wool to add some white to the red, white and green.  Not sure what I think of it though. 

Happy wreath making!

Paying tribute to Public Radio

What a busy couple of weeks!  I really don't have time to write, but I feel guilty about keeping a blog and not updating it regularly.  Who the heck knows where I got this guilt complex in all matters of life, but I do, so here's a quick run down of the past week (just think of all the future blog posts): 

Cricket died.  Mochacino was welcomed into the family.
Paper on prions just going dandily.
Pork is delivered and so is the lamb.
We hope you enjoy your bacon and ham.
The Dems swept the elections, at least around us.
Say "no" to hydrofracking, let's be sustainable and just!
"No" on prop 26 in Mississippi came through by a wide margin
In-vitro, and women's rights pulled through yet again (although it shouldn't have to be a fight).
A weekend well spent at a doula training course.
You can learn more about doulas at www.dona.org.
The weather has been surprisingly sunny and mild.
I hope this doesn't mean we're in for winter, wet and wild!


And I believe I have just used up all of my stores of poetic creativity!  Sorry, I'm not an English major (or minor).

So, as I was driving in my new Mochacino (2009 Subaru Legacy, AWD, manual) to Boston for the aforementioned doula course, I was able to enjoy not one, not two, but three public radio stations.  I had gotten out of the habit of listening to NPR because my local station (WSKG, 91.7FM) just doesn't carry a whole lot of variety.  It has the news, Fresh Air with Terry Gross and All Things Considered with Michele Norris and Melissa Block, Cart Talk and Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me,  all of which I love.  I also enjoy listening to the BBC to get a more objective perspective of what it going on in the world.  But mostly, during the day, and in the evening, the station plays classical music.  I certainly have an appreciation for classical music (having played it for 10 years in my youth), but I need some variety when driving the very long stretch of I-90. 

Sadly, central upstate NY just doesn't have the population to support 24 hours of quality programming from NPR.  When they have membership drives, the station is asking for 600-1000 new or renewing members and maybe tens of thousands of dollars.

When I reached Albany, I was able to switch to WAMC, 90.3FM.  When my darling husband was courting me way back when, I would drive home Sunday evenings listening to a Celtic music hour and then a World music hour, neither of which I think is on the air now.  I also enjoy catching the Round Table, although sometimes I got so frustrated I have to turn the radio off. 

Coming up past Worcester, MA I  finally was able to get in WBUR, 90.9FM which I believe is the pinnacle of public radio.  When WBUR does fundraising drives, it asks for millions of dollars.  I was enjoyed approximately 6 hours of NPR radio over the weekend as I was commuting from Cambridge to Beverly for my doula course.  I particularly enjoyed The Splendid Table, which is about all things culinary (including what to do with that winter squash glut), and Living on Earth, which I believe was discussing the vortex form that sphagnum moss spores take when they burst from the moss at 65mph (making them among the fastest moving plant particles).  The programming made me appreciate what Public Radio can achieve if it is supported by listeners.  I know I sound like I belong in a fundraising drive, but I do honestly believe we need to support this organization.  If you do listen to NPR (and this includes you satellite listeners), please consider paying your dues so that the fabulous programming can continue. 

First Fridays: November

I was having a difficult time thinking about what crafty item to showcase this month.  I will get to the fiber-art eventually, but this month I think I'm going to introduce you to an international program for students called TREPS.   It teaches kids entrepreneurial and business skills; skills they can use for a lifetime.  One of my largest grumblings over the state of our education system is that kids are just taught content and seemingly (to them) abstract skills.  They aren't really taught why these skills are important nor how they can apply them.  This is where TREPS can help.  When the  program was first introduced, I was initially skeptical, but the results  (the products, the enthusiasm generated and the business acumen developed) have shown me how valuable this program (and others like it) can be.

Our local school's PTO introduced and ran the program.  For six weeks, kids went through a series of workshops to develop a marketable item.  At the end of the workshops there was a Marketplace where the kids sold their products.  The young brain harnesses so much creativity and if they are given a positive framework in which to channel that creativity, great things happen.

At the Marketplace last year (which coincided with the Village's winter carnival weekend), middle schoolers were selling all sorts of amazing products that they had made themselves.  Some were constructed from scratch, while others were value-added products. Here are a few of the more interesting ones to get your creative juices flowing in time for the holiday season (photos are from more professional websites, but the kids' products were just as good).

*Recycled and sculpted LPs in the form of clocks, napkin holders, coasters

www.retroclassics.etsy.com

*Lip balm made from local honey

*Wool felted animals

www.needlefelting.brighterplanet.org

*Homemade dog biscuits

*Homemade fudge

*Beaded jewelry

www.engravable-jewelry.com

 So, if you think you are crafty, creative or industrious, think again! Unleash your creative powers!

On the Move...

I know I was "supposed" to have a post about the floor redo, with lots of photos.  I just haven't gotten around to actually going downtown where there's a faster internet connection to upload pictures.  It will get done eventually.

Things are slowing down a bit on the farm.  The pigs and lambs went to market today.  We'll be dispatching the rooster later this week (whom I lovingly called "Fitzwilliam" after Mr. Darcy until he started attacking us), and then we'll be hosting our annual FarmAid party this weekend.

Things are also slowing down with my running, as I  hurt my foot on Friday after my first attempt at a 5.2 mile run.  It was a cool, cloudy day--perfect conditions for a run-- and while I've been running since the middle of July, the 5.2 miles was a stretch.  Our valley is very hilly--I have no idea what it is like to run on flat ground--and usually I run only between 2 and 3 miles.  After the run, I felt pretty good but then Saturday I woke up and realized that the outside edge of my right foot was very sore (okay, running friends, any potential diagnoses--I don't think it's plantar fasciitis).  This is the first time I've taken more than one consecutive day off, and I'm feeling a little bit guilty about it.  However, considering that I can't even walk all that well on the foot, running would probably not be in my best interest.

I never considered myself a runner and the last time I ran regularly was in high school many moons ago.  To tell the truth, I really detest running.   I've never understood the "runner's high" because I certainly haven't felt "that good" after running.  But this summer, while I was sitting on the porch reading a novel (the protagonist was a runner) I figured I should get off my butt and do something more active.  Following my older brother's logic, running seemed the obvious choice, primarily because it's cheap and accessible.  I started very slowly (kind of following the Chi Running technique) doing a run/walk around our "block" which is conveniently just about a 5K (3.1 miles).  Over the past 2 months, I've slowly taken out the walking stretches to where I am only walking about a 200 yard stretch that is in the middle of a 1 mile climb.  I've also found other routes in town to stave off boredom, some of which are flatter than the "block" (my very supportive darling husband thinks it's rather ridiculous that I drive somewhere to run) and I also found a running partner with whom to run at 6am every other weekday (which my very supportive darling husband thinks is a ridiculously early hour to go running at, especially since it's dark and cold). I was running about 5 days a week until this weekend. 

So now that I'm laying low for a bit I suppose I will have just a little more time to work on nursing school essays, microbiology notes, Spanish practice and maybe even just sleeping in for 10 more minutes in the morning.

Finding Time

When I left my job last spring to go back to school, I knew that I could at least substitute teach on days that I didn't have classes myself, thus keeping myself busy and earning a little bit of money.  So I signed up as a sub in the neighboring district.  It is now the middle of October, and I have not yet gone in to a classroom.  This isn't to say that the district hasn't called me.  In fact, I get multiple calls  some days.  The problem is two fold.  First, it is an automated system that calls me, and it only calls at certain hours. If I'm not present to pick up the phone, the system moves on. For half those hours in the afternoon I am in class.   In the morning, I usually am running. 

The second, larger issue is that I find myself so busy that I can't take the day to sub.  Between processing squash and apples, moving sheep fence, taking various pets to the vet, and redoing the kitchen floors, I simply have not been able to devote an entire day to subbing. 

Which brings me to the larger point of, "How did we manage before when I was teaching full time?"  I have no answers for that.  I think the old adage, "We do what we have to do" is fitting.  Somehow, we do manage to get it all done.  I like to believe that our brains know how to prioritize and can shift things around when needed.  This may be why our floor got done this year, but the cellar storm doors did not.  Or why I will spend three hours trying to inject a sheep with meds when she is sick, but otherwise I wouldn't have foreseen having three hours of time available in the middle of my day. 

In light of this, perhaps I am not finding time to sub because it's not a priority any more.  I have found far more pressing and/or interesting things to do with my time.  I did happen to find time in my schedule to enroll in a doula workshop out in Boston in a few weeks which I'm looking forward to.  For more information about doulas, you can check out www.dona.org.  Obviously, I am a big proponent of using a doula during birth, and studies have shown a strong correlation between doula use and labor time (25% shorter labors when supported by a doula). And,  many insurance plans do cover the cost of hiring a doula. 

Find some time in your busy life to enjoy yourself.  Just tell your brain to make that a priority!

First Fridays: October

I know you're all expecting me to do something with wool, and I probably will, but not this month!

For October's first Friday, I am showcasing a project that is certainly fun, and truly simple to do.  I call it the "Paint Chip Collage" but I'm sure it has another name and while the concept is not original (I learned about it from my mother about 10 years ago, but I think she found it in Real Simple), each product is certainly unique!

The collage below was actually assembled and given to me as a wedding shower gift from my bestest childhood friend (I had made one for her for her wedding shower two years prior).

The beauty of this project is that it is almost no cost, and the intent is to individualize it as much as possible for the recipient.  It all comes down to the unique names of paint colors.  Have you ever given the names of paint chips much thought?  Next time you're at the hardware store, pick up a few.  The ones in the photo above include "Bridle Path", "Island Palm", "Sailboat White", "June Wedding", "Ocean Breeze"; all phrases that are associated with me and/or my relationship with my bestest friend!  While it's not easy to see the names (and you may not even particularly like the colors), you know that the combination is an accurate description for the person receiving the gift!

When I was overseas for about a month several years ago, I had friends and family send a paint chip (that I had picked out and put into stamped envelopes) to my darling husband (we were dating at the time) every couple days.  I have not yet actually made that collage (7 years later), but he still has the chips. 

Simply glue the chips onto some stockcard and frame.  Voilà!, a non-foofy, interesting, eye-catching piece of personable artwork!

In the middle

Last week, my darling husband and I attended a lecture by Roald Hoffman, the 1981 Nobel Laureate in Chemistry.  The topic was indigo (the dye) and it's cultural and historical significance.  After the lecture, my good friend Eileen sent me his interview transcript from NPR's series, "This I believe" (June 16, 2006), which I re-post here.  It's a succinct explanation, similar to my own philosophy of life.  I think many of us can be very reactionary at times, and I think that perspective often backs us into a corner or ends up working against us.

I believe in the middle. Extremes may make a good story, but the middle satisfies me. Why? Perhaps because I’m a chemist.  Chemistry is substances, molecules, and their transformations. And molecules fight categorization - they are poised along several polarities. Take morphine. Anyone who's had an operation knows what morphine is good for. But it’s also a deadly addictive drug. Take ozone - up in the atmosphere, a layer of ozone protects us from the harmful ultraviolet radiation of our life-giving sun. But at sea level, ozone is produced in photochemical smog, it chews up tires and lungs.
Chemistry - like life -- is deeply and fundamentally about change. It’s about substances, say A + B, transforming, becoming a different substance -- C + D ... and coming back again. At equilibrium -- the middle -- all the substances are present. But we're not stuck there. We can change the middle; we can disturb the equilibrium.
 

Perhaps I like the middle, that tense middle, because of my background. I was born in 1937 in Southeast Poland, now Ukraine. Our Jewish family was trapped in the destructive machinery of Nazi anti-Semitism. Most of us perished ... my father, three of my grandparents, and so on. My mother and I survived, hidden for the last fifteen months of the war in a schoolhouse attic by a Ukrainian teacher, Mikola Dyuk. We were saved by the action of a good man, that school teacher. Sad to say, much of the Ukrainian population in the region behaved badly in those terrible times. They helped the Nazis kill us. And yet ... and yet, some, like Dyuk, saved us, at great risk to their lives. I couldn’t formulate it then, as a child, but I knew from our experience that people were not simply good or evil. They made choices. You could hide a Jewish family or you could choose not to. Every human being has the potential to go one way or the other. Understanding that there was a choice helps me live with the evil I experienced.

Being a chemist has allowed me to see plainly that things – politics, attitudes, molecules -- in the middle can be changed, that we have a choice. Being a survivor I can see that choices really matter, all part of this risky enterprise of being human. The middle is not static -- my psychological middle as well as the chemical equilibrium. I like that. Yes, I also want stability. But I believe that extreme positions – all reactants, all products, all people A bad, all people B good, no taxes at all, taxed to death – are impractical, unnatural, boring ... the refuge of people who never want to change. The world is not simple, though God knows political forces on every side want to make it so. I like the tense middle, and I am grateful for a life that offers me the potential for change.

Hoffmann is a gifted speaker, and you will not be disappointed if you ever have the opportunity to attend one of his lectures.

Dealing with CSA mono-vegetable glut

So the question that I have heard a lot of is this summer is "We just got a lot of ___________ from our CSA.  We can't eat it all/we're bored sick of it/we don't know what to do with it".

Obviously, no one wants to throw food away or even compost it, feed it to the pigs/dogs/chickens etc.  So here are a few long-term, easy storage tips.

First, get yourself a good food storage book.  Whenever I have a question, I consult Mike and Nancy Bubel's Root Cellaring: Natural Cold Storage of Fruits and Vegetables. It tells you the best conditions to store each type of food in, and also which varieties are the best keepers. While the focus is on root cellaring, it is important to note that you don't need an actual root cellar in order to root cellar (did that make sense?).

So here's my short-list of autumn glut CSA foods and what to do with them.

Potatoes:
Immediate use:  The nice thing about potatoes is that they'll store short-term without you having to do anything other than keeping them in a dark place.  In the fall, we make potato pancakes, fried potatoes, skillet frittatas, and of course mashed potatoes.  If there are some good-sized ones, we make crunchy potatoes (twice baked potatoes) with lots of goodies in them.
Storage: White potatoes store well at 36-40 degrees F with 90% humidity.  If you have a nook in your house that can meet those conditions, great.  To increase the humidity, take any organic material (leaves, straw, shavings) or sand and soak it. Pack your potatoes lightly, as ventilation is a good thing.
I also mash potatoes and store them in quart size containers and freeze.  This is a great option if you have the freezer space!

Tomatoes: Don't refrigerate them!  Keep them on the counter and they'll be happy for a week or two.  We bought three crates at the farmer's market this summer, and they were fine just sitting on the table until we could process them.
Immediate use:  Salads, sauces, stuffed tomatoes, casseroles, pasta or rice dishes, in egg dishes. We make fajitas a lot, so I always add a couple then.
Storage:  Two easy methods:  Sauce them (if it's a roma or other paste tomato) and then freeze in quart size bags.  Or, just throw a bunch of whole tomatoes in a gallon bag and freeze.  The skins will come right off when you thaw. You could even core the tomato before freezing.  You can also can.  Please remember to add 2 TBSP of lemon juice to each QUART (1 TBSP to each PINT) because today's tomatoes are generally not as acidic as yesteryear's.  You can use a hot water bath (no need for the canner).  You can also prepare pizza sauce or salsa and then can (or freeze) those.

Winter Squash (including pumpkins): 
Immediate Use:  Again, these have a really long shelf-life at room temperature so there is no pressure to use them.  Yay.  The problem I find, is that I get sick of eating squash after about two weeks,  so I put them in the baskets that hang from our rafters and forget about them.  Then in January, I look into the baskets and there are a half dozen shriveled up squash specimens that probably don't contain many nutrients. 
Baked squash is always easy, and it's even easier in the crock pot.  You can mix mashed squash with mashed potatoes to cut the squash flavor if you're not a big fan.  You can make squash bread (always a huge hit in our household).  You can also stuff the squash with a meat casserole type thing and then cook it.  You can also use the puréed squash as a substitute for the oil, eggs and water when baking cupcakes etc. from a mix.
Storage:  So I tried canning these suckers (since I'm running out of freezer space) and I think it would work, but it's very labor intensive as you have to skin the squash without cooking it first.  Then you must blanch the squash and then you need to use the pressure canner for 90 minutes, which I don't like using.
So, the easiest way to store for us (aside from hanging it in the baskets) is to cook the squash, scoop it out, and then freeze it.  I'm hoping that by storing it in this manner right off the bat,  I won't have any shriveled up squashes come mid-winter.

Carrots: 
Immediate uses:  We always have carrot sticks cut in the fridge.  We find them particularly helpful if we're having an unpalatable vegetable according to Bud--he can munch on those instead. If you have a juicer, use it here.  Carrot muffins are yummy (so is carrot cake).  I actually use carrots in my roasting pan to support the chicken instead of using a rack.   In any soup or stew you can add carrots.  In fact, a mixture of carrots, celery and onion is the classic mirepoix--the base for any stock. One of my favorite salads is simply shredded carrot and shredded beet mixed with a light vinegar and some seasonings (unfortunately, my darling husband is not a beet fan).
Storage: Theoretically, these are stored at 32-40 degrees F with 90-95% humidity--very similar to potatoes.  I store mine in the same place (an unplugged freezer turned on its side in the basement with shavings in it).  Just layer the carrots with the organic material between them.  The carrots should be close to one another, but not really touching.  Store only the largest, most regularly shaped ones.
I also will blanch and freeze diced carrots to add to a mirepoix later or to a vegetable medley as a side dish. 

Hardy greens (spinach, chard, kale, collards):
Immediate uses:  I'm a big fan of sautéed kale, onions and pepperoni.  I'm sure you can do a similar dish with spinach.   In my opinion, these hardy greens are best when slightly wilted over your stovetop.  They are also great in soups, stews and pasta dishes.  You could also make a yummy spinach dip with some sour cream.
Storage:  You can actually freeze these.  You'll want to blanch them for a couple minutes beforehand.


Good luck and may there be no more glut!

Why dehydrate?

This year, has certainly been a phenomenal one for apples.  In the interest of preserving as much food as possible, as quickly and safely as posssible, we are dehydrating or saucing most of our apples.  Second only to the dutch oven, the dehydrator is one of my favorite kitchen tools. 

This model from Nesco probably cost around $85 (it was a gift).  The gift was actually given to us jointly with another friend (there really is no need for every single household to own a dehydrator, as most of the year, you don't need it).  Dehydrators also come in a box shape but I haven't tried those.  Do get one with the fan on the top though, as they are much easier to clean (if the fan is on the bottom, all the little pieces of food that fall through the cracks in the trays get caught there). You can always buy additional trays, although I wouldn't suggest working with more than a stack of 8 as the drying will become uneven.

Anyway, the apples in the picture above are all from our trees (or trees alongside the road).  They are truly beautiful and delicious.  For the first time in my recollection we won't actually have to buy any "fresh eating" apples as these untended trees are producing great fruit as is (I know, I keep harping on this point, but it is rather spectacular). 

My darling husband and I have basically been running the dehydrator every night with its trays full of apples.  To prepare, he peels the   

            apples and I slice.  I drop them in a bowl of water mixed with several tablespoons of lemon juice to keep them from browning (not really a necessary step as the taste remains the same, but they do look more attractive when not brown!).  I really like this brand of lemon juice as it's fresh squeezed (read: NOT FROM CONCENTRATE) and is organic. 

We lay the apple slices on the tray.  This was done very quickly (about 3 minutes) in the essence of time, but you can spend all the time in the world arranging them so that there are no spaces between the slices and everything looks very geometric. 

 The trays are stacked, the cover put on and the timer set for about 8 hours at 135 degrees F.  The picture to the left shows the finished product.  I think most models of dehydrators shut off automatically when done, so there's no need to get up in the middle of the night to check!

The four trays (probably made from 15 small to medium apples) yielded about 1 1/2 quarts of dried fruit.  I store them in Mason jars or plastic bags.  Storing them in Mason jars (no need to seal or anything) allows you to see if they are truly dry.  If condensation starts appearing on the inside of the jar you need to dry them more (or eat them) because they will mold. 

We have also used our dehydrator to make liver treats for the dogs, "sun-dried" tomatoes, dried mushrooms, fruit roll-ups (lots of fun and super easy), and beef jerky.  All of these items have a considerably long shelf life (months if not years) and the beauty of it is that there is no need to refrigerate, freeze or can!

Hurricanes, floods and a day of rememberance

I've been meaning to post for several days now, but "things" keep happening around here, which either change the focus of my blog or keeps me so busy that I have no time to blog.

Ten days after Hurricane Irene swept through here, the remnants of Tropical Storm Lee did a number on the Binghamton area.  We weren't directly affected aside from losing power (again), having the basement flood (again), and having a "weather related" day off from school,  but the county was declared to be in a state of emergency, and thousands of folks along the Susquehanna River have lost their homes, their farms, their livelihood.  The neighborhood where I lived when I went to grad school was completely underwater, and I'm sure the house I lived in did not escape damage.  Some of the aerial shots bring back vivid memories of Hurricane Katrina in 2005.  Our thoughts and prayers go out to all those who are suffering from this event.  If you would like to help, you can go to the South Central New York Red Cross chapter website here and the Northeastern New York chapter website here  (Irene recovery).  As United Methodists, we also give through the United Methodist Committee on Relief.  One hundred percent of your donations go to help people in need as the administrative costs are covered by the local churches through annual collections. You can direct where you would like your donations to go with various advance numbers. 

So in church today, we were faced with the local tragedy of the flooding as well as remembering the national tragedy of 10 years ago.  All of us over the age of 15 have both personal and collective memories of that experience.  I remember walking through the computer lab at the school where I was teaching  and one of my colleagues saying "a plane hit the World Trade Center".  Thinking it was a little 2 person Cessna or similar I didn't dwell on it.  However, as the events unfolded, I remember leaving the school, going back to my apartment, and trying to get a hold of my brother who lived within walking distance of the Pentagon.  I remember learning about a family neighbor who was killed.  And I remember thinking as the day turned into a week and the week turned into a month, "what the hell am I doing teaching kids how to use microscopes when all of this is going on? How can we focus on objective lenses when thousands of people have lost their lives, when our country has declared war on "terrorism", when there is this cloud of helplessness and hopelessness hanging over the entire nation?"  I felt that my role as an educator was so insignificant to what was happening and I did not see any intrinsic value to what I was doing in the classroom.

This afternoon, in between trying to sew together another recycled feed bag, fill water buckets for the animals, and collect windfall apples for drying, my darling husband, Bud and I decided to trek down to a Celtic Mass of Peace in memory of the events of 9/11.  There is little we can do or offer to those who have lost loved ones either in the attacks or in serving our country subsequently, but listening to the orchestra and choir while sitting next to my family quieted my heart and my mind, at least for the moment.