Getting Ready for Winter with some Freezing

It's now officially "late summer", but we've been working like crazy to get all of our food up for the winter.  Nature works on her time, not ours, and we have to remain flexible even if we were caught off guard this year with the incredibly early apple season.  The apples are truly amazing.  If you're in the Northeast, perhaps you're noticed the bounty and size of apples on trees that have not been tended by humans for years.  We found a tree around the corner that has some early type of green apple that rivals any apple at a farmers' market in size, looks and flavor. After asking permission from the landowners, we grabbed our apple picker and ladder and picked 10 gallons of apples in about 15 minutes.  The lack of a late frost, and a relatively warm, dry (but not drought) summer has led to the best apple season in a dozen years. 

This onslaught of apples means that cider pressing season is under way--a full 6 weeks early (we haven't even gotten the dried beans on the drying screen yet!). My darling husband  pressed the first two batches last night.  Due to the flies, the warm weather, and the lack of freezer space, we heated it up to pasteurize it and then will just drink it in the next week or so.  I have plenty of apples to make pies, crumbles and applesauce with as well.  And then at some point, I'll have to dehydrate a dozen or so quarts.   

The tomatoes are also in, which means we're prepping those for winter storage as well.  To keep things simple, we simmer down a bunch of roma (paste) tomatoes (cut in half but skins still on) with a handful of fresh basil and oregano. Then we just blend them and store them in the freezer in quart containers or baggies.  When we want to make sauce we'll take a container out, add more herbs and some sugar and let it cook down.   If you don't have your own garden, I would highly recommend that you purchase your tomatoes from a local farmers' market.  You'll get a great deal if you buy in bulk (I paid $15 for about 20lbs of tomatoes which is 75% off the $3/lb price) and if you have the freezer space it is well worth it.   If you don't have a large freezer, there is a great book out there,  Preserving Food without Freezing or Canning, which highlights old world techniques.

A new technique I just learned for preserving corn is to simply to blanch the cob and then freeze the whole darn thing.  I've always cut the kernels off the cob after blanching, but this way allows you to obviously have corn on the cob in the middle of January.  I guess it depends on how much room you have in that freezer.   

You'll find celery at the markets as well right now.  This would be the easiest vegetable to preserve, as you just dice it and freeze.  No blanching, boiling, etc.  required.  I keep the leaves as well for tossing in stocks, soups etc. and also because it works as a great substitute for parsley.

Finally, peppers are coming in. My own pepper plants did not fare too well (as usual), but I have been buying them for $0.75 a piece at the market. I dice them up, saute them with a little olive oil for just a few minutes and then freeze.  Throughout the winter, I can pull them out and add to fajitas, soups, stews, steak, etc.  I've also stuffed a few of the peppers with a sausage/cheese/rice/veggie medley.  I wrap those babies in foil and, guess what, freeze them.   It makes supper SO simple, especially on a busy day.  You can prepare stuffed zucchini in the same fashion as well. 

So the freezer at this point, is pretty full.  I also have bags and bags of peas, beans, corn, blueberries, and strawberries in our small upright freezer.   The only other thing i have to put in there (aside from tomatoes) will be any onions that are not of good storage quality.  I'll saute those up and then freeze in small quantities, as onions are not supposed to be refrozen once thawed.  Then we'll be good to go fruit and vegetable wise for the freezer.  Root vegetables will be stored in the cellar, and the kale, brussel sprouts and leeks will be wintering over in the garden for as long as possible. 

Fireside Chats with Bud

I apologize for not posting earlier.  It seems that my 5 year old laptop has sadly fizzled out.  It wants me to attempt to reload Windows, but I have to dig up the CD.  Talk about planned obsolescence.  Computers should last more than five years. 

But onto the subject of this week's post.  One of our favorite activities in the summer is to sit around our fire pit as the sun sets and the stars come out.  Now, as we enter the middle of August, we don't have to wait until 9:30 for the sun to set, which is a good thing.  Usually, after dinner, one of us will go and build up the fire.  I prefer using the environmentally friendly method of building a tent out of some dry tinder, and gradually adding larger pieces of tinder.  I learned this method from the physical education teacher at school when I chaperoned the eighth grade camping trip.  Sadly, due to budget cuts, the adventure program is being downsized, the camping trip will be cut and students won't have the opportunity to learn how to build a fire without using white gas (which is my darling husband's favorite way to fuel the flames).  Sometimes, we'll make s'mores by the campfire (once the gasoline burns off), but other times we'll just sit quietly and listen to the wild sounds of the evening, trying to identify all the chirps, snorts (those usually, but not always, belong to the pigs), whistles and chatters.  The dogs and cats will come join us, the latter jumping up on any spare lounge chairs to curl up.   

This setting apparently is an ideal place and time for a nine year old to muse over the great wonders of our world and our society.  The quiet, and probably the darkness, aid in allowing a child to really talk about subjects that may not be "cool" to discuss during the busy-ness of the day.  Topics have ranged from the mundane to the profound.  We have had discussions about stars and planets, tourism, old houses, farms and the sources of food, baseball, the ocean, God and gods, football, music, professions, art, World War II, friendships, honesty, and most recently, Star Wars.  This last I found quite amusing, since Bud made the comparison that the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry can be compared to the entire Star Wars saga.  He had picked out which player would be which character.  I can't remember them all, and I'm sure I'll be corrected, but here's a bit of the list:

Ortiz:  Luke Skywalker
A. Gonzalez:  Hans Solo
Youkalis:  Chewbacca
D. Pedroia:  Would have been Princess Leia except for the fact that he would never ever say "Would someone get this walking carpet out of my way?" to Youkalis.
Ellsbury:  Lando

A. Rod:  The Emperor
Jeter:  Darth Vader (because in the end, he's really not all that bad)

We'll take any suggestions you may have to round out the roster.

By 10pm, Bud is all talked out or thought out, and we return to the house to retire for the evening, allowing our bodies and minds to renew themselves for another day of adventure.  



 

Introducing Rebecca

A busy week this past week, with lots of fun adventures to share.  My 13 year old cousin was here for a week experiencing  life on the farm.  She was great fun to have around, and very willing to help out with anything except the processing of chickens.  We stacked wood, went riding, picked vegetables, canned vegetables, moved fence, et cetera.

Also, a very intense rain came through yesterday evening causing four inches of water  to collect in our basement which meant we had to use the sump pump for the first time in a year.  At least the gardens won't need watering. 

The big, big news is that "Rebecca" finally arrived.  We all adore her, but my darling husband has certainly spent a lot of quality time with her these past several days.  I hate to admit it, but I am feeling just a little bit jealous.  And with her all her amiable qualities, flexibility and versatility, I'm afraid it's going to be a year-round love affair. 

Becca, or Becky, is a BCS 852 walk-behind tractor.  She was made in Italy, and we purchased her through Earth Tools based in Kentucky.  She weighs in at a svelte 600 lbs, has 20 inch wheels, a Lombardini diesel engine, and you start her up by simply turning a key, which is my favorite aspect of her (besides the fact that she gets things done).  We currently have her hooked up (via PTO) to a 32" brush hog and it took my darling husband approximately 2 hours to clear an acre with her. We have mowed a pathway for the pigs as well as cleared all of the 7 foot(!) weeds that were outside the Pasture A fence.  She works at three different speeds in both directions and has a wheel differential making it easy to steer.   We haven't purchased any other implements yet but a mower and a rotary plow are the next on the list.

While farms with larger acreage could use a full-size tractor, we couldn't justify the expense as we only have about 8 acres of workable farmland.  Plus, we have lots of small spaces, and one of the main uses of Becca will be to mow paths for the electric netting we use for sheep, pigs and chickens.  Other uses will be for garden prep, lawn mowing, and hay mowing (and possibly baling!).  We might even splurge and get a cart so she can haul stuff.  My darling husband and I have both spent many hours looking over all the possibilities (and watching the YouTube videos) for this great machine. After five years of living on the farm, we finally have bought a "real" piece of farm equipment.  We first found out about the walk-behind tractor from Hobby Farms, a periodical we subscribe to.  Ironically, this month's issue was highlighting the successes of real horse horse-powered farms.  Oh well, I can safely say we won't be one of them! 

Flexibility and Fun

Update on the Squelon:  It is most likely a pumpkin of some sort. 

Learning to live simply is learning to let go, use what you have, and go with the flow.  My first thirty years were somewhat regimented with myself usually playing the commander.  Things had to be this way; we had to eat at this hour; homework had to be done before fun could be had.  I lived a life of very little flexibility.  I'm not sure why this is, but anyhoo...

Working a farm and raising a child has shown me that one has to be flexible.  The world will go on if you all have french toast for dinner.  In fact, the world will go on if said child doesn't complete homework or said stepmom doesn't do her grading because a ewe is lambing.  The world will even go on, if on a 90+ degree day, it is just too darn hot to be productive and so you go to Secret Caverns to cool off (where the temperature is always 51 degrees F). 

This is just what we did earlier in the month. The weeds in the pastures would be there when we got back, and the garden vegetables would wait patiently to be harvested until evening when the temperature would drop to the low 70s.  I don't usually complain about the summer heat, as the season is so fleeting and I know the cold, dreary months of winter are just around the corner, but I will admit, it was just a little too warm for comfort.

So, we got in the car and drove out to Secret Caverns.  Scoharie County, about 1/2 hour South of Albany, is known for its caves.  In fact, the cavern employees were saying that there are about 200 to 300 caves in the county.  The largest tourist attraction there is Howe's Caverns, but we didn't visit that one due to the fact that it is the largest tourist attraction in the county.

We had tried to visit Secret Caverns twice before with Bud.  The first time, several years ago,  it was for a Masonic Lodge function in the evening and there were thunderstorms, so the cave people thought it would probably be best not to do tours. 

The second time we went was on Halloween a couple years ago.  With all the costumed folks around, Bud started descending the 123 steps to the cavern floor and by step 5 did an abrupt one-eighty and exited in a flash. I guess we couldn't blame him for that one either.

So by this third trip Bud had matured a little more, but I think it was the prospect that it was cold in the cavern that really made him think that it wouldn't be so bad.


There's not a whole lot of pomp and circumstance surrounding the entrance to the cave.  The stalactites, stalagmites and flow are still numerous inside the cave.  And there is a beautiful 100 foot water fall inside the cave at the end of the accessible part of the cave.  I particularly enjoyed the tour as the guide interjected a lot of folk history into his talk.  It didn't really matter to me if it was the "truth" or not, because it is the oral history passed down that defines the culture of the area.  I would say, however, that you don't want to be a cow living in Scoharie County, as it seems to be the cows who inadvertently "discover" all of these caves by falling down holes.  Poor things.  I see a Far Side cartoon in the making. 

At one point during the tour, the guide turned off all the lights.  We have been conditioned to think that our eyes will adjust after a bit, but in reality our eyes only "adjust" because there are some photons of light that are making their way to our eyes.  Two hundred feet below the surface there simply is no light, so we could be there for days and our eyes would never "adjust".  I don't think Bud appreciated this fact, and clenched my hand super tightly when the lights were shut off.

After the tour, we opted not to browse through the artfully tacky and unairconditioned gift shop  (more on the consumerist nature of our culture later) and instead went down to Cobleskill to get an ice cream before heading home to do the chores that were still waiting for us, as expected.

The Case of the Squelon

I was enjoying my Saturday morning earlier today when my darling husband calls me outside.  "Sweetie, you have to come see what is growing in the garden!"  I had images of some giant plant eating fungus springing up overnight as I had spent a great deal of time in the garden yesterday and didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. But then again, sometimes my powers of observation leave much to be desired. 

Anyway, the photo below is what my darling husband had unearthed. 

Currently, it is about as large as the seedless watermelons one sees in the stores these days.  We have no idea what it is, except that is from the Family Cucuribitaceae, which means it could be a melon, a squash or a little bit of both (hence, squelon).

This rogue fruit was a volunteer in the asparagus patch (and has decidely taken over that bed, which is fine as the asparagus season is over) so we decided to leave it there and see what developed.  Obviously, we're not sure yet.

Squash and melon are in different genuses so they shouldn't easily cross pollinate, but it's probably not out of the realm of possibility.   It is important when planting your squash to keep in mind that there are only four species: C. pepo, C. maxima, C. mixta and C. moschata.  The reality of the situation is that all summer squash (zucchini and yellow squash), acorn squash and most pumpkins are C. pepo, and if you're like me, you plant several of these in your garden each year.  I also have planted both buttercup and hubbard squash right next to each other, both of which are C. maxima. Which may be why I have the rogue squelon growing right now. We also try to grow melons every couple of years, which may have contributed to this mix.  The seeds could also have come from any farmers-market melon that we bought and then mulched the seeds from. 

We'll simply have to track the squelon's progress over the next couple months to see what finally takes shape.   I would like to think it is at least edible, if not roasted, perhaps then in a soup. 

Happy gardening.

The next Food Network show...

...should be Real Cooks on the Farm.  In it, contestants would have two hours to calmly prepare a healthy meal but everything, except for five ingredients of the contestant's choosing (seasonings, olive oil etc) , would have to be from the farm s/he was plopped down in and NOTHING would be prepared ahead of time (including the butter).  Now, on this farm, there would be a dairy cow, and plenty of poultry.  There would also be beef cattle, sheep and pigs, but I highly doubt you could process these larger animals in the amount of time given.  A huge vegetable garden would be available, and you would hope it would be high summer so that there were actually yummy vegetables in it (you can only do so much with greens and asparagus and the show isn't titled "Extreme Farm Cooking").  There would also be an orchard and berry brambles to find fruit in. If you were lucky to be in a farm in the south, you would have citrus available as well.

We don't have cable, so we don't regularly get to watch the Food Network, but we were staying at a place that did have television this past weekend.  And I confess, I am a little bit of a Food Network junkie.  So this new food show inspiration came to me the other evening when I was in a rush to create a good, substantially portioned meal for my family (sometimes I am accused of making "tapas" sized portions).  I had no time for advanced planning as we ended up being gone all day, but I did know I had a plethora of food available to me.  I'll be damned if I just caved and said "let's go order a pizza".  We have been traveling a lot the last few weeks and the "dining out" category of our budget was literally bursting at the seams. 

So, luckily we had some marinating venison in the fridge (a gift from a friend last fall which we had thawed earlier in the week).  I realize this would be cheating on the new show, but chicken would be an equally good protein and I am confident I could process one of those in about 20 minutes. Knowing the venison needs mere minutes over high heat to cook, I first headed to the garden to gather greens.  I have plenty of different lettuces, but to spice it up a bit, I added arugula and beet greens, some oregano, sage and rosemary.  I also pulled our first three carrots from the garden and picked a few pea pods. 

I had also noticed that the black caps (wild blackberries) were in abundance by our creek, so I went and gathered those (somewhat labor intensive as the berries are small, but so tasty).

I threw the lettuce, herbs, and arugula in the bowl after three washes in the salad spinner (to guarantee that no slugs remained), shelled the peas, chopped the carrots and then added the black caps.  We had bought some River Rat cheese up in Clayton, NY when we were visiting the Thousand Islands, so I added some chunks of that (I guess that would be one of my five ingredients off the farm).  I then added almond slivers (another off-farm ingredient).  For the dressing I used a raspberry vinegar and avocado oil (I know, strange combination, but really good).  I then cooked the venison over high heat (for about 4 minutes total) and put 8-9 pieces on top of the salad. 

There, done.  Probably 40 minutes from start to finish.  If I was doing chicken, it would take a little longer as the bird would have taken about 1 1/2 hours to roast--still within the two hour time limit though.  It's interesting to think about what wouldn't be possible to make in a two hour time slot: bread would be difficult as you wouldn't have time to process the grain into flour. And your main protein would be turkey, chicken, and eggs (or you could do the wild thing, and go for squirrel, possom, muskrat, frogs, I suppose).  It would certainly be entertaining to see what people came up with.

All jesting aside with the Food Network show, it is possible to put together a good meal from scratch, and despite the time pressure, it was actually enjoyable.  Meal time can be stressful and/or monotonous, two adjectives I'd like to eliminate from my vocabularly.  To simplify things, after five years together, my darling husband and I have finally decided to take my mother's fine strategy and prepare a weekly dinner menu.  We will then go one step further and decide who is cooking it each night.

As Julia Child would say, "Bon Appetit!"

Montana Misadventures

We just returned from a week long visit to Montana where my brother and his lovely bride got married Missoula style (see photos below). 



Roasting the Pig.  The catering crew actually camped out overnight so they could baste this baby every hour



Love that the bride wore this beautiful sage green Etsy.com creation--handmade in New Zealand.  The groom is wearing jeans (as is the best man) and low cowboy boots



Appetizers and drinks were available before the ceremony

It was a fantastic trip and it was the first time Bud was able to experience the Big Sky of Montana.  We went hiking for a couple days in the Bitterroot Valley, staying in a US Forestry Service cabin, which I highly recommend for some simple living.  Below is a picture of the East Fork Guard Station which is on the East Fork of the Bitterroot River.

The cabin is about 15 miles up a mountain in Ravalli County, which means it's 15 miles from the nearest public phone, 30 miles from the nearest town center, 100 miles from Missoula, and about a day's drive from Billings.  I tell you this because of the misadventure which occurred while we were there.

Wednesday evening, I had to go out to our rental car to get a shirt for my darling husband from our "non-camping" suitcase.  Mission accomplished without drama or bear sightings, and the happy family went to bed.  The next morning, my darling husband asks "Where are the keys?"  "I put them on the table," I replied.  Except that they weren't there.  Or anywhere in the cabin.  No, they certainly couldn't be locked in the car!  Or could they?  Darling husband wasn't so darling (rightfully so) at the moment, and once I realized that our identification, money, and food was all in the car I began to panic a little bit.   It was also drizzling out.  With little choice, the three of us set off up the road to try to find a neighbor.  No luck.  After walking a mile, we turn around and walk the other way. 

At this point, I should remind you that we are in Ravalli county which, as my brother mentioned right before we departed Missoula, is the militia capital of Montana (and hence the country?).  A mile down the mountain we spot a small community of camps and there is a VFW sign at the road.  We walk up a ways and it is completely desolate although there are trucks in driveways.  Darling husband asks if we should knock at any of the doors, but it's difficult to even determine where the doors are.  We decide to turn back on the main road.  

A little bit further down the road, I spot an older man eating his breakfast by a huge picture window in his kitchen.  With very few options aside from darling husband walking 15 miles down the mountain, we knock on the door and explain the situation.  He lets us in, and directs me to the telephone (right next to the Playboy magazine).  I got on the phone with the rental car folks while darling husband chats it up with our new friend and Bud takes in all of the girlie calendars hanging around. ("That's disgusting!" he exclaimed later).  The rental car company was not extremely helpful as the spare key was in Billings and thus they wouldn't be able to get out there until the following day (and Lord knows how much it would have cost us). The car did have an outside combination key pad, but they wouldn't give that to me over the phone   But apparently, our new friend and darling husband had hatched a plan to break into the car with a very large screwdriver, a piece of cloth and a coat hanger.  MountainMan drives us back to our cabin and then they pry the door open with the screwdriver to let the coat hanger through.  After several failed attempts to hit the "unlock" button, Bud mentions that the back locks are shaped the old-fashioned way, so that a coat hanger formed into a hook could probably do the trick.   Low and behold, they unlock the car! The alarm is blaring and Bud climbs in to pop the trunk.  Keys aren't there.  A few expletives are on the tip of my tongue, when Bud suggests that we open the suitcase and there they are.  I inadvertently left them there when I grabbed the shirt the night before. 

We thank MountainMan and later in the day drop off a few beverages for him, to add to his very vast collection ("That's one thing we need plenty of up here in these mountains" he told us). 

And so, the misadventure ended hardly before it started thanks to a kind individual living outside of Sula, Montana.  And note to self: if you're going to lock the keys in the trunk, do it closer to civilization!



Summertime Sensibility, Spreads and Strawberries

School's out!  In all honesty, I was feeling a little bit adrift last Friday, particularly when I turned in my school keys.  I will truly miss my team members and the rest of the middle school faculty.  The group of people I worked with were sensible and grounded.  There was none of the drama that is associated with many workplaces.  We worked well together and were a functional, well-oiled unit.  Our different personalities complemented each other fabulously, and it is a shame that the middle school is no longer in existence. 

With it being a somewhat emotional day, I came home and realized I had locked myself out of the house.  Note to self:  don't give the key to the house sitter a week before you actually leave town, you just never know when you need that hide-a-key.  So there I was, without a spare, at 5:30 in the evening, in a very short summer dress (I had just come from the retirement luncheon).  I did have a cell phone (surprisingly), and I called a couple people, hoping I had given at least someone a key in the past.  No luck.  But, a dear friend came over and helped me break in (not easy) without doing any permanent damage.   We then shared a couple beers watching the sun set over the hills.  So, be sensible, and make sure your neighbors have a copy of your house key!

In the garden, the garlic scapes are up.  I never really know what to do with scapes, but it would be very insensible to not use them in some way, shape or form.  It is possible to grill or saute them.  I also learned last year that you can make garlic pesto out of them as well.  I don't really follow recipes when making pesto-I just do a lot of tasting to figure out if the proportions are right.  So, basically, you would use garlic scapes (with the flower part cut off) instead of basil, and walnuts instead of pine nuts (walnuts are cheaper).  Throw some Parmesan cheese in there and of course olive oil and blend.  I freeze the pesto in ice cube trays then put in a plastic baggie in the freezer.  When you want a great snack spread, mix the pesto with the same amount of cream cheese.  Yum!

Another recipe which I made for my team party last week is as follows:

Spicy Chesapeake Chicken Spread
 2 packages (8 oz) softened cream cheese
1 TBS bottled steak sauce (I used BBQ sauce as that was what I had around)
1/4 tsp curry powder
red and black pepper to taste
1 1/2 cups minced cooked chicken (I also threw some turkey in there as I had it around)
1/3 cup minced celery
1/4 cup chopped parsley
1/4 cup chopped toasted almonds
crackers

1. Beat together cream cheese, steak sauce, curry powder and pepper.
2. Blend in cooked chicken and celery and 2 TBS parsley.  Refrigerate remaining parsley (or just don't pick it until later).
3. Shape mixture into log.  Wrap in plastic and chill for 4 hours or overnight.
4. Toss together remaining parsley and almonds and coat log with this mixture.
5. Serve with crackers (duh).

You may want to half the recipe as my darling husband and I were eating chicken spread sandwiches for three days, and that was after the people at the party had it!

Finally, let's be sensible about strawberries.  We love fresh strawberries and we use them throughout the year in smoothies, on french toast and waffles, or in sauces, spreads and dressings. I also make lots of strawberry preserves when I can find the time.  However, the season for finding relatively cheap strawberries is relatively short and I don't have time to make jam.  But I do buy them in bulk at the farmers market (I can buy a flat of 8 quarts for $30), rinse them, remove the tops, spread on cookie sheets and freeze.  When frozen, put in plastic baggies or containers.  Out of sight, out of mind (for the moment).

Enjoy the first "real" week of summer!

Infertility in a fertile land

My darling husband and I celebrate our fifth anniversary today.  We have shared so much on our relatively short journey and I feel truly blessed that we are together.  We have each other, Bud, our families and friends, and our farm. 

It is also really the fifth year anniversary of us being unable to have children.  This part of our life together has run the gamut of emotions and it seems to have finally come full circle.  For the first year, we weren't too concerned about our inability to conceive, but the medical community defines infertility as a couple unable to conceive after a year.   I had great reservations about crossing into fertility procedures (for all those in similar situations, you know--the constant blood work and ultrasounds, the shots of hormones, the invasiveness of it all, the not knowing, all of the moral and ethical questions that arise).    I remember talking with some close friends about my hesitancy of pursuing treatment and my main argument was that the process really interferes with the normal processes of the body.  However, I also knew that the in-vitro is really quite successful, and so my husband I decided to pursue the option. 

In the beginning of 2009, we went through 6 months of less invasive treatments before we had to take a break due to feeling so overwhelmed with the process.  We then went back for another 4 months of more aggressive (in-vitro) options in 2010. We were not able to complete either in-vitro cycle and I was declared to be a "rare case" by the doctor.  I was left in a state of great physical pain for about a week, and emotional pain for considerably longer.  Several people suggested we get a second opinion, but after much thoughtful consideration we decided that my body was sending clear messages to me that this route was not the road to be taken at this time.
For me, going through the process of advanced fertility treatments made me feel a lot worse about myself as a person, and really did a number on my perception of my own womanhood.  Here I was, unable to bear children, the very core of being a woman, and every other day, when I walked into that center (which was an hour and a half away)  I was reminded of this flaw.  And every time when the fertility docs came up with a new plan that didn't work, I felt like it was somehow my fault.

I tried to rationalize everything, thinking that my inability to have kids was in the grand plan.  Perhaps that's one reason why I fell in love with a man who already had a son, a son who is with us more often than not and who proudly proclaimed, at the age of two, "I have a mom, a dad and a Distan" (me) as if everybody in the world has a Distan.  And I guess to some degree I continue using this paradigm.  Maybe this is why I have the interest in midwifery, or why I teach children.  I am able to play a large part in children's lives, without having one of my own. 

Many couples in our position, and particularly women, have a difficult time when their friends, colleagues and acquaintances become pregnant.  I remember standing at the photocopier and someone announced, "Watch out, the last three women who stood there ended up pregnant within two weeks."  Not helpful.  There is no correlation between making photocopies and pregnancy thank you.   Then my general practitioner said "Just wait.  It will happen when you least expect it."  Righto.  For some of us, it won't.  End of story.  Thank you.   She's not my general practitioner anymore (although I can't say it's because of that comment--she moved on to gerontology).  My darling husband also mentioned how difficult it was for him to preach a Christmas Eve sermon because it was so focused on birth.

I sought alternative practices and readings, namely acupuncture and energy healing.  While apparently I still can't conceive children, I was able to realign myself and am now in a much better place than I was a year ago. 

Interestingly, I somehow got on the mailing lists for all sorts of baby products and literature in the mail(probably thanks to the fertility/pharmaceutical corporate machine which thinks I ought to have a baby by now).  Fortunately, the local food bank is always in great need of baby formula.
 
It's really hard to talk to others about infertility and I'm sure many of you who are on this journey feel similarly.  My closest friends know, and some of my family, but I had to wait a while to feel more removed from the process to just say, "You know, I can't have kids."  It's also really hard to write about, but this is a cathartic exercise.  I remember when I was going through the process I dreaded looking at infertility websites on the Internet.  Everybody had a different opinion on the topic, a different experience.  By and large, I ignored the Internet, in an effort to stay somewhat sane throughout the process.  I found the hundreds of pieces of tidbits offered by folks confused me even more, made me feel more unsure about whether I was taking the "correct" course of action. My life was suddenly becoming emotionally very complicated and I was losing touch with who I was.  
I can empathize with all couples going through this process, but it is such a personal journey, and there is no one way to feel or act or react.  There is no "right way" to go about it.  Follow your own heart.  Do whatever it is that feels right for you and your partner.

Wild Windy Weather

The long Memorial Day weekend has had an ominous start as some very unstable weather has made its way to our area Thursday night.  We were all just getting ready to go to bed when the storm hit us.  The lightning display was spectacular but the heavy winds were quite damaging.  The power went out, causing Bud to wake up, and the boys ended up sleeping on futon mattresses downstairs where they could be calmed by the weather radio and be cooled by the lower downstairs temperatures.  Fire whistles were going off for much of the night and emergency crews were out clearing roads from downed power lines and trees as soon as the winds died down.  We woke up to find that the top 20 feet of one of our tall pines had snapped and been flipped around as it fell to the ground.  Fortunately, most of the downed trees seemed to fall ten feet away from the homes and not directly on them. 

We were surprised to see the fallen part of the tree oriented this way--it had to either have flipped in mid air or been pushed by the wind as it came off.  

Friday was beautiful and my darling husband and I spent most of the afternoon in the garden.  I planted some beets, greens and cucumbers and dug the bean bed.  Unfortunately, last night around 8pm, another set of thunderstorms came through with heavy rain, and I'm sure that most of the seeds got washed away.  We will simply have to assess and maybe replant later in the week.

While digging the bean bed, I came across some old potatoes that were still in the ground so I dug them up.  I also picked some of last year's fall lettuce that had been insulated by the snow and then started regrowing this spring.  The lettuce was delicious in our first green salad of the year.  The potatoes were more of a disappointment, but considering they were salvaged, we didn't have high expectations.  The new potatoes in the neighboring plot will be ready in a couple months. 

The Final Count(down)

When starting this post I realized that the "final count(down)" could mean one of several things:  the end of the world as we know it if you're from Harold Camping's camp, the end of the Space Shuttle era if you're a NASA junkie, or the end of the school year if you're a student (or teacher).

Last night, my darling husband and I did a final count of the animals we have on the farm.  With the arrival of four Berkshire/Duroc piglets yesterday, we are in full operational mode for the next six months (well, minus some broilers we'll be dispatching).  The final count:

26 Cornish cross broilers
10 hens (and 1 rooster)
10 Dorset cross sheep
9 turkeys
4 piglets
3 cats
2 dogs
1 horse

Total count:  66 animals, of which 43 will only be here until October (sorry to be so morbid, but that's the reality of it). 

Our trip down to the Southern Tier of New York in a borrowed 1980-something vintage Dodge pick up to retrieve the piglets was relatively uneventful.  We found some old karaoke tapes (one of our friends holds regular karoke evenings in the church basement) in the cab of the truck, and shamelessly played them...with the windows down.  After all, it wasn't our voices on the tapes.  Bud got a kick out of listening to "Sweet Caroline" and a very off-key "Achy-Breaky Heart".  There's only so much one can do to keep a 9 year old entertained on a four hour journey.

We took the truck out again today to help a dear friend move some belongings.  Three trips to the storage unit was all that was required and we just barely dodged the requisite afternoon rainstorm (which was a good thing considering the last load had boxes of cameras and canvases in it).  Bud was very proud of the fact that he snagged a 1980-something era mortar board, a very cheesy pair of sunglasses and a garden owl (thanks Doug!).

And since it's not often that we have the use of a pick-up truck, my darling husband will be taking our snowblower in for a tune up--better do it now as it will be snowing before you know it (or at least before we would normally have the snowblower in working order) as well as the weed-whacker (which we definitely do need as the grass is enjoying all of the rain we've been getting).

I could probably think of a hundred more uses for the truck before we have to return it tomorrow afternoon, but I'm tired and tomorrow I will be camping overnight with my students, so sleep is definitely a requirement!

Catching Up

I can't believe that it has been over a month since my last post.  Obviously, things have been a bit busy on the farm. The poor weather conditions have not helped much.  It was the second wettest April on record in our area, which prevented us from doing much of anything outside (fencing and planting). 

First, kudos to our friend Doug who was watching the farm while we went to visit my darling husband's family.  One of our ewes gave birth while he was on call and he went above and beyond to try and save one of the two lambs.  When all was said and done, each of the new moms gave birth to twins but only had one survive.  We have four rambuctious gamboling lambs now.  Two of them are as of yet unspoken for and will be ready for processing in October (if there are any takers out there in Cyberland).

We also constructed (largely in the rain) the chicken tractor for our broilers.  The plans we followed can be found on this website.  While perusing plans for chicken tractors I was surprised at how many plans included pressure treated wood!  The plan we used actually calls for EMT (electrical metallic tubing) which is both light and sturdy.  Our final product looks pretty much the same as the one on the website, and it seems to be keeping the birds in and predators out.  However, it was somewhat frustrating to construct (did  I mention it was raining the whole time?!) as the structure wasn't entirely stable until the hardware cloth was attached.  All the birds are now out of the shed (see this post about shed usage), which is a good thing, as it was getting to smell rather ripe in there!

Sheep shearing is behind schedule as well.  Usually, we have sheared the sheep and sent them up to the pasture by now. But with the late birth and the wet weather shearing isn't scheduled to happen until mid May (just days before we get our piglets). 

The good news is that the horse did get shod, so he is ready to go (once it dries out) and there is plenty of lush green pasture for everybody. We also have asparagus coming up!  And I also managed to sew the curtains for the kitchen window (five years after moving into the house).

Next on the never ending list:  plant the peas, carrots, onions and potatoes (and actually write down the garden plan), assemble the 1979 Ashford spinning wheel I was able to find over April break and enjoy the few moments that the sun actually shines!

Lamb Tales

It's lambing season again, which translates into a fine line between letting Mother Nature take her course and interfering when necessary. Before we go on, let's meet the flock.

Tess is the middle black mama with the horns (white stripe on her face).  Rachel, her mother,  is to her left (our right) (grey with white stripe).  Our dearest friends owned the ewes before we did and this picture was taken at their famr on our wedding day (durng the reception).  We inherited Rachel, Tess and Uma (who passed away last year after a difficult birth).  

Our first year of breeding Tess delivered healthy twin ewe lambs.  Above is Tess's daughter, Velveeta (09), who is now due any day with her own lambs.  Uma delivered a singleton ram lamb (shown below on the left) and Rachel delivered a singleton ewe lamb, Velma (below on the right).

Velma just gave birth on Monday to two ram lambs.  One is thriving, but the other died on day 4.

Tess's 2010 lambs; also two ewes, Wanda and Wilma, both of which will be bred next year. This photo was snapped when they were just minutes old.  Wanda (black) isn't even up on her feet yet.  These yearling ewes now act like typical teenagers and are really quite obnoxious.  However, Tess has been an extraordinary mother (Uber-mom) and has delivered healthy twin ewe lambs consistenly for the last 5 years.  Her lambs this year will be her last and she will go out to pasture with Grandma Rachel.

After our first successful year of breeding the ewes, 2010 brought along some significant difficulties.  Uma needed much assistance delivering two very large lambs (and she was early).  We had the vet, her former owner and a plastic surgeon (I know, I know, but he was the husband of the vet) all present, but she eventually succumbed.  We tried to bottle feed the lambs, but both ended up dying in the first three days.

Luckily, Tess pulled through a week later with Wanda and Wilma, without any difficulty.  While we had thought that Rachel was bred as well, she ended up not having lambs.  At the time we weren't sure how old she was, but it turns out she was 9 at the time, probably well past her fertile years.

After last year's issues, my darling husband and I ordered all sorts of lambing supplies through Premier so that we were sure to be ready in the event of any emergency.  The earliest possible due date was Saturday March 26th and my parents were actually watching Bud and the farm while my darling husband and I were both on business trips.   They were a bit concerned about how to handle a pending birth, but we assured them Mother Nature usually took care of it.  All they had to do was set up the jug, towel off the babies, bring mom a warm bucket of water with molasses, snip the umbilical cords,...and..and..and..

Luckily, the lambs weren't born until 12 hours after my parents had left.  I had decided to take the day off from school as Velma looked like she might be sick and I had a vet call planned.  It turns out Velma was just in labor!  The lambs looked pretty good from the start, but by Wednesday morning, we found the little one was suffering from hypothermia (he probably wasn't getting enough to eat).  We brought him inside and tubed him (thank goodness for YouTube videos) so that he would get the required nutrition.  Tubing is a daunting experience for someone who has never put a stomach tube in before, but it was actually quite simple and painless for the lamb.  We kept the lamb in the bathroom for the day with a heat lamp on him and by midafternoon he was jumping around.  Thinking all was okay, we reintroduced him to mom.  He seemed fine, but was having trouble nursing.  I bottle fed him every four hours, but he suddenly died sometime between 6 and 9am on Wednesday.  The other lamb seems to be thriving.

Now, we are waiting for Tess and Velveeta.  Hopefully, all will go smoothly.   Through conversations with many shepards both in person and on Homesteading Today, it seems that Mother Nature will go ahead and do what she may, and perhaps that is for the better.  Often times, a lamb is not meant to survive, and interfering may only prolong the pain and suffering.  Taking Velma as an example, it may be that as a first time mom she was not producing enough milk.  She also may have had some
"issues" coping with twins her first time around.  Now, she is able to devote all of his time to her one lamb, and is doing a fine job of it. 

When Death finds its way to a farm, it is often difficult to not blame oneself or to think "What could I have done differently to prevent this?" It often makes me feel as if I'm doing an inadequate job.  But we have to remember that Birth, Life and Death, are much more powerful than a single farmer is.  All are part of the Great Circle of Life, and all need to be respected, even admired.

Why we haven't built our family room yet

When my darling husband and I first bought the farm, we had grand plans of turning the "shed" that is attached to the kitchen into a family room.  Many evenings were spent discussing how we would reorient the woodstove, where the mudroom would be, would it have a cathedral ceiling (and thus lose the attic space above it), would we open it up to the kitchen, etc.  We believed that this additional family room would be necessary, as we would have several children and our current set up does not provide an ample indoor space for older kids to "hang out".

The "shed" is on the far right in this picture, from the hot water pipe onwards. Conveniently, there are two exits directly to the outside from the shed. 

                                                                               
Now that we've lived in the house through five winters and summers, it has become clear to us that the benefits of the shed outweigh the benefits of a finished family room.  The shed is a space for all seasons, and without a garage, one of its main functions is as a storage unit and recycling containment center. It also is where the workbench and all the tools call home. 

While storage is certainly a noble purpose for a 400 sq. ft. space,  it was the seasonal activities that occur in the shed that led us to believe we would not be able to part with it.

Early Summer:  I use this area to clean the shorn sheep fleeces before sending them out to be carded.  It's a tedious process, particularly since the sheep live with burdock, but I usually get most of the crud off. 

Tess and Rachel's wool on the screen, ready for picking

Late Summer:  Harvesting.  Need I say more?  We set up the saw horses with a screen to lay the onions, garlic and beans out to dry before storage. 

Fall:  We continue with harvesting, but the main purpose of the shed is for apple pressing.  Bud and his father spend evenings out there grinding up apples and then pressing them into fresh cider.  While we end up hardening most of the cider, we also freeze 3-4 gallons each year.

Bud shows off his cider pressing abilities.  In the background of this picture, you can see the sawhorses and screen with beans drying on it!

Winter:  You would think that winters are relatively quiet on the farm, and indeed they are.  However, the picnic table, lawn furniture, fencing and fence chargers, and wood all come in for the winter.  While our barn could hold much of this material in the summer months, the barns in winter are stuffed to the gills with hay (and more fencing equipment). The shed, since it's not heated, is also a fabulous refridgerator in the wintertime.  Pots of stock, soup, left over hams, freshly butchered poultry, pies, puddings, and beer have all been stored out there to great satisfaction. 

Early spring:  This is probably the busiest time for the shed.  I use the floor space in April to cut and dry seed potatoes.  It is also where we raise our chicks and turkey poults for the first 4 (if you're a chick) to 8 (if you're a turkey) weeks.  This year, we actually received our shipments of both types of fowl at the same time, and quickly had to build another brooder for the chickens.  With powerful heat lamps, they seem content, even though night time temperatures are dipping into the teens. 

Turkey poults are in the front box; chicks are in the rear. 

Our chicks from a few years ago.  We actually ended up putting them in our broken shower upstairs when it got too cold for them in the shed (we didn't have heat lamps at that point).

As you see, it would be rather difficult to find a replacement home for all of these activities.  Thus, it appears the shed will stay a shed, as the concept of a family room doesn't seem so necessary anymore.  

A Prairie Home Companion

I wanted to start this post with It's been a quiet week in...my hometown" but I'm afraid Garrison Keillor claims ownership to that line.

My darling husband and I met just over 8 years ago, and I think back on these years with a certain nostalgia.  This was a time before we had a farm, a time when we gardened on a plot of our dear friends' farm, a time when my stepson, Bud, was still in diapers.  I was traveling through the Berkshires and across the Hudson to visit, still holding down a teaching job in Massachusetts. It was a time when I pondering my next step in life, not wanting to be apart from my soon to be husband.  I applied to a graduate program not far away from where we would eventually settle in a field that would prove to be exciting, but not very applicable to the job market in upstate New York.

During the colder months of these two years, my darling eventual-husband and I would often spend our Saturday evenings in quiet companionship, listening to Prairie Home Companion, a mutual secret love.  I grew up listening to NPR, and my family collected the Lake Wobegon recordings on cassette.  I think there are a lot of us Lake Wobegon wannabes even among the young adult crowd, and it turns out that most of my close friends have been regular listeners at one point or another in their lives. 

Visiting with a dear friend this afternoon I was reminded that my own life here in Upstate is in fact a bit like those who inhabit Lake Wobegon.  While we are well-informed of world events, the inhabitants of the village are very active in local community affairs.  We have three public buildings in our small hamlet of 1000 folks: the church, the grange, and the town hall.  All three buildings have a variety of activities going on, from meetings, lectures and workshops to quilting groups, dinners, dancing and variety shows (in fact, we have a variety show troupe that stages a show every year at the church and was actually a finalist on Prairie Home Companion's "Talent from Towns Under Two Thousand" about twelve years ago).  Much of the region is made up of similar villages, and it is quite possible to sustain oneself solely on covered dish suppers, spaghetti dinners and pancake breakfasts that are offered by each community's gathering center. 

All of these public gatherings provide grand means for propagating gossip.  Sometimes, it seems a bit like the old parlor game, telephone.  "He said, she said", "I heard, you heard..." and can get quite tiresome.  Sometimes, I forget how efficiently the rumor mill gets started.  Just last week, a neighbor (and pediatrician) approached my darling husband saying "I hear your wife is changing careers!".  Aside from this blog (which I know very few people actually read, and most of them are FB friends) I had told a grand total of five people about my career path.  Perhaps the small town living keeps us all honest to a degree and it's a good reminder to me to probably tell my boss of my plans before he hears it from another source first.

Sadly, moving to the farm, we have lost some connection to Prairie Home Companion and the News from Lake Wobegon.  The evenings often run late by the time dinner is cleaned up, animals are fed and baths are taken.  And, with all the hustle and bustle of the day, the three of us will often just collapse on the couch for a half hour before bed, wrap the flannel blanket around us, and read, enjoying each other's company in silence.     

You Better Belize It

Four days ago I was snorkeling with sharks off the coast of Ambergris Caye.  A week ago and I was admiring the ancient Mayan city of Tikal.  Now, I'm back in two feet of snow.  

Our vacation was filled with much fun and celebration, and probably a few too many rum punches. If anything can be described as bright and beautiful, Belize is it.  The colors and warmth of Belize contrast sharply with the cold dreariness that continues to envelope us in the Northeast.

Belize is a small country, roughly the size of Massachusetts in area with only 350,000 residents.  We were able to enjoy spending time in two very different ecosystems, the pine forests and the beach.  Tropical rainforests, dry tropical forest, and lowland savannahs are also part of Belize's ecology.  The people of Belize vary just as much as the landscape.  There are sizeable Creole (distinct from the French Creole that we know of here) and Mayan populations, along with a large Mestizo population.  People were proud of their ancestry and described in great detail their ethnic heritage.  The official language is English, thanks to British imperialism (Belize only became fully independent in 1981) and we discovered that some locals don't consider Belize to be part of Central America because Spanish is not the primary language. 

Belizeans seem to live simple yet fulfilling lives.  Many of their homes seem to be built by their own hands; simple structures built on stilts, containing one or two rooms for a half dozen people.  Cooking and much of the daily activity can occur outside thanks to the warm, sunny weather.  People got to work by bus, carpooling, horseback, walking or riding a bicycle. 

The wealth of knowledge of all the Belizeans we met astonished me.  While school is mandatory until age 16 (like it is in the States), every Belizean I spoke with regaled us with information about the Mayan ruins, the seasonal and annual weather patterns, the political history of the country, the natural history of the area.  It was like speaking with a cultural anthropologist, historian, sociologist, archaeologist, ecologist, marine biologist, speleologist and meteorologist all at once.  Because Belizeans don't hold material goods in such high regard, and because their survival is more tightly connected with the land and interpersonal relationships, learning about their environment and their own history is a necessary part of their lives.  As mentioned elsewhere in this blog, such knowledge is lost upon us as middle-class, materialistic, Americans.  We depend on the nuclear family, not the community to help us in times of need or to share in our joys.  We look to specialists to give us the information, and thus we don't take the time to learn it ourselves.  We think that the more stuff we have, the better off we are, paying little regard to the relationships we form with each other and with our land. Ultimately, what does this mean for us as a people, and a culture?   We may be rich in "stuff", but in the long run, how far is that going to get us?   

It all falls apart, and a moment of clarity

On Wednesday, our oven range called it quits. According to my darling husband, this happened in rather dramatic fashion as he was trying to warm up a burrito for lunch. 

There are several ways in which I could have reacted to this event, the natural reaction being one of frustration as the water heater just had to be replaced 10 days ago.  But, another convergence of events has taken place and I have learned that it does no good to get stressed out about such mundane things like water heaters and ovens.  We are really doing okay.  We are put on this Earth for a tiny blip in time and need not concern ourselves too much with such minor annoyances.  We simply had to get creative in the kitchen, using our wood stove to cook ham and eggs, and to bring out the electric griddle for pancakes (breakfast for dinner is the best!). We may have the new oven hooked up by Monday.

Where is this new calmness coming from?  I think I can largely thank some acupuncture treatments for this current moment of clarity, as well as some significant changes that have occurred at work.  One of our team member's lost her job due to budget cuts, and the entire school faces some major restructuring.  I think that sudden slap in the face provided me with the impetus to reevaluate and figure out how to pursue a dream I've had for the past ten years, which is to become a midwife.  I enjoy teaching, but I'm not passionate about it.  When I first considered midwifery I was in my third year of college, and the idea of five more years of school was too daunting (it would have been easier if I had decided to go into nursing right after high school, but hindsight is 20-20).  I will still have to go to school for at least three years full time to take the most accepted education route to become a midwife.  But, with my darling husband's blessing, the process doesn't seem as daunting as it did 10 years ago, even if it requires me to move to the City for a year (yikes!). 

I think we all have a Truth inside us that sometimes we ignore, or sometimes we fight against.  Some find that Truth more easily than others.  My path thus far has certainly been long and winding, but I suppose it's all part of the journey of life.

Yarn...in the middle of nowhere

This past Friday night, my darling husband and I took a drive down Route 20 (this is the same Route 20 that goes from Boston, MA to Newport, Oregon) to arrive in a small town just east of Cazenovia, known as Nelson.  Allegedly, there was a small (tiny?) music hall in this small (tiny?) hamlet that was bringing in some rather significant Americana acts.  Yarn was playing on Friday, an alternative country/Americana band out of Brooklyn that we had heard once before in Saratoga Springs.

The problem with going on a date in the middle of nowhere is that there are very few dining establishments around.  When our first attempt failed (the restaurant was apparently closed for the winter) we ended up in Cazenovia, a small college town.  One would think a few dining establishments catering to locavores, would exist, but we couldn't find them.  However, we did find the quintessential upstate New York steakhouse that was hopping. This was a no-frills establishment which reminded me of a basement rec room growing up complete with the industrial carpet and the cheap vinyl seats.  The food was very respectable as was the beer.  We learned from our server that the place had been owned by the same person for 50 years and it was closing its doors on Sunday for good (hence the crowds).

Back to Yarn.  As we were trying to find our way along the highway, looking for roadsigns peeking up above the snow, I was reminded of another musical haunt in the Berkshires, The Dream Away Lodge.  Also in the middle of nowhere, this establisment was at least made famous by the likes of Guthrie and Dylan.   The Nelson Odeon is not an old farmhouse (nor a former brothel) like the Dream Away, but a converted grange building.   The property was bought and renovated by a couple who apparently had a vision of bringing musical performances to the fine folks of Nelson.   Whatever marketing they have done seems to have worked as the place was filled  to capacity  (was all of Nelson there?).  What was advertised as two 45 minute sets ended up as four hours of country rock including some fabulous electric mandolin jams (who knew?).  If you can, check out the track, Abilene, by far my favorite.  Before long, this motley crew of Upstaters was dancing in the aisle, beer in hand, singing (relatively on-key) with the band.  Homemade desserts and freshly roasted coffee were sold at the break, and while waiting to use the one bathroom available (although the guys thought the row of pine trees made fine stalls even in subzero weather), we were able to mingle with the owners of the establisment as well as with some of the bandmembers.

We made it home shortly before 1am to two dogs and a couple cats who were a bit confused as to why we were out so late.  The evening was another reminder to me of the hidden cultural gems that lie in our midst for those who wish to seek them out. 

Turning a Heel and other Fiber Experiences

I'm in the middle of knitting my first pair of socks ever.  What makes it doubly challenging/frustrating/rewarding is that I am making it from yarn that I hand spun (not with a wheel) with wool from our sheep (although I didn't shear the sheep myself).  The progress thus far:

I turned the heel last night, which as any knitter knows, is probably one of the most feared of all knitting techniques.  This is why, after 15 years of knitting, I have not yet knit a pair of socks...until now.   With the advent of YouTube, where one can actually watch a video of someone turning a heel (and rewatch over and over again), it becomes a little bit easier.  I am not working from a pattern for these socks as I couldn't easily determine the weight of the wool, and it's not really consistent in size either.  So I'm using a general guideline that I found here and I'm supplementing with other information I find on the web.  It's also taking a considerable amount of problem solving and looking at how socks are actually put together (yes,my darling husband, I really am being productive when I stare down at the woolies on my feet for five minutes at a time). 

In other news, I am working on my hand-spinning technique and can actually create yarns with different weights.  I also went to my first spinners meeting this past week.  This is not the bicycle, exercise kind of spinning, although that would also be a good use of my time, but the old-fashioned wool spinning.  About 20 women of all ages and background came together with their wheels and shared what they had made in the course of the past month.  Some of the creations were truly fantastic including felted hats and cabled throws.  I brought my broken-down $40 garage sale salvaged wheel which looked pretty funny compared to all of the newer wheels.  Below is a picture of my wheel. 

This is basically considered a "clunker" now, as the newer models looks something like this.  Oh well.   The woman who runs the spinning group took a look at the wheel and determined that it may actually have been made for decorative purposes only as the tensioner at the left end isn't actually functional.  Now, who would go through all the trouble to reproduce a wheel with all the working parts except one?  She offered to take it home and try to fix it, and for that I am grateful.  So I continue to hand-spin and knit away, and the snowflakes continue to fall.

We haven't been hit nearly as hard as the folks on the East Coast.  But we are all preparing for another storm (or two) this upcoming week.  Along that vein, my darling husband, Bud and I have moved all of our wood inside and had the oil company fill our backup oil tank.  We also have taken stock of our freezer. We have no shortage of meat, but the green vegetables from the summer garden are dwindling quickly.  We may have 5 quarts of green beans left, and a smattering of corn, carrots and peas.  Bud ate the last of the apple sauce last night.  As usual, we have a plethora of potatoes and there is still some winter squash, although it's certainly not in prime condition.  If we get desperate, we could try the beets I froze two years ago, or the frozen kale.  We also have several quarts of homemade chili that my darling husband made a couple weeks ago.  100 days until the asparagus comes up, and possibly sooner for the lettuce (depending on if I get the coldframe up in time). 

Stay warm this week!

If you let them, they will play

Due to the long weekend, and the abundance of snow, we decided to host a sledding party for some of our friends.  The instructions were simple...bring your kids, your sleds and dress warmly.  While the temperature hovered around 15 degrees, the sun was shining brightly and there was no wind.  I wish I took pictures as the colors of the sleds and the parkas against the white snow and blue sky were striking.  After two hours of play in the snow, 7 kids, 7 adults and one Labrador retriever tromped inside for some hot chocolate and popcorn as the sun began to set over the western hill.

I am not a fan of the cold, but I find the combination of good friends and sunshine helps to bring me out of my shell.  More importantly, I find that given a wide open space and very little parental involvement, kids will play appropriately and learn valuable social skills, as well as hone their imaginations (oh, and have a good time).  In an era where everything has become so directed, imaginative play has become a lost art.  Kids are continually connected to a screen of some sort or another, or participating in structured lessons, sports or other activities where someone (or something) is telling them what to do and how to do it. Structure certainly has an important part in a kid's life, but not to the extent where there is no free time at all.  It is a good thing for a child to be "bored" as it forces him or her to figure out what to do with that time.  We find in our household that Bud will often want to "do" something with one of us. But if we're both busy, we send him off on his own.  Usually he ends up deciding to read his novel (currently, the Nicholas Flamel series) or coming up with some sort of game in his room to play with his guys (the Fisher Price castle  and figures Santa brought him when he was 3 and other assorted cars, trucks and blocks that he has accumulated over his short 8 years of life).  Wendy Mogel discusses children and boredom in her book, The Blessing of A Skinned Knee: Using Jewish Teachings to Raise Self-Reliant Children. 

One of the party-goers who also homesteads mentioned that her family often has a fossil-fuel free day, which requires the children to think creatively about how to spend their time without going into town.  If we as parents hunker down and don't cave in to the constant bombarding of "Can I play on the computer?, Can I watch a video?" etc., the kids will retreat and start some activity or other on their own.  If we let them, they will play.  Albert Einstein once said, "imagination is more important than knowledge".   One of my colleagues who teaches sixth grade actually has this quotation painted above her windows in her classroom.  Many may question this idea, but without imagination, there is no pursuit of knowledge.  If kids are trained to just google the answers to any questions they have, or ask a teacher or parent who will just give them the answer, then the creative mind within them withers.  We, as adults, need to foster the sense of self-reliance by letting the kids make mistakes, be bored, get into arguments with their peers, and create their own entertainment.  It's not neat and it's certainly not quiet, and it may be a little scary, but it's good, just like sledding down a big hill (with jumps) on a sunny January afternoon.