Ah. I DO love my little life carved out here...
I almost named today's post, "Off With Their Heads!" but out of respect for a sweet, almost eight year old friend, I resisted.
Beans, Nugget, and I got an impromptu invitation to observe a chicken butchering at a friend's house today. Considering that we will be butchering our own birds in a matter of weeks and we are novices at this, I decided this was a good opportunity to learn something.
It was homeschool for grown-ups.
With Nugget in the baby backpack and Beans in my arms, we gave the two ill-fated birds their final petting. Our friends showed us a few tricks to get the birds to be calm, a hachet delivered a swift blow, and without a squawk, the hardest part was over. The birds were hung To bleed out while preparations to dress the birds were made. The kids found that gross fascination with parts like the decapitated heads and removed wings and feet that all curious youngsters have. Homeschooled kids (in my personal opinion) have an even deeper fascination. Mere moments passed before all the kids (except Nugget) were asking great questions about why the body continued to move, or what chicken brains looked like. (Nugget continued happily clucking at the chicken remains.) Even Beans had some good questions, for a two year old. "Why did we do that?" and "Does the chicken feel better without his head?"
In attendance were three adults, one teenager, and youngsters aged 1, 2, 6, and 8.
Yes. I let my kids observe.
Nugget cared not. In fact, she merely squawked happily at the other chickens roaming the yard. Beans was curious but not disturbed. We have talked many times since buying our own chicks about how chickens provide meat and eggs. Once the excitement was over, she toddled off to play with more exciting things. Her interest peaked again after the "Women's work" (cleaning the chickens and preparing them for freezing and cooking) was done; when the birds looked more like dinner than livestock. Then she decided she was hungry.
I got some good experience and anatomy/dissection lessons. I don't feel nearly as intimidated about our upcoming butchering day as I did before. And I even think I could infidently handle the dispatching of birds... a job I had definitely ensured my husband would handle before we started the chicken venture.
The job was easy and fun as we visited with our friends. I love the interplay of homeschool families working on a task together. It makes me sad that formal education takes all the FUN out of learning. I gleaned as much information from my friends' children as I did from my friends. When the older kids tired of the lesson, they joyfully (and without being asked!) took Little Nugget to play so I could enjoy the rest of my learning experience.
It was a modern day "Little House on the Prairie" day. I loved it.
And my kids? (Before someone gets their knickers in a knot about me exposing my kids to the facts of food production)
I'm thinking they survived the exposure. When I tucked Beans into bed, I had our usual conversation:
Me: "Did you have a good day? What was your favorite part?"
Beans: "Um, yeah. Mine favorite part was getting that chicken
and chopping off his brains and then maybe we are gonna eat him right up!"
I think I definitely have a farm girl in the family.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
When Life (or your husband) Felts Your Wool Hat...
You should quit complaining about it and make yourself a really cute little purse.
J washed (and dried) a wool hat I made for him. Personally, I am suspicious that it may have been on purpous, but we'll let it stand as "an accident". No problem. I made him another hat (didn't think I would let him off THAT easy, did ya?) and after sulking over the ruined hat for a while, decided I could so do something cute with it. Someone in my family is getting an adorable little bag for the holidays. Stay on the "nice" list- it's really a cute bag!
Anyhoo... The moral lesson is really this: stop whining. NOTHING is "The End of the World" except for, well... The End of the World.
Alaska, farming, and toddlers are teaching me that.
The garden is looking pathetic. A lack of nutrients and a lack of water are the primary culprits. (The goats did not help.) as the days get cooler and begin to show signs of being shorter, I find myself excited for and wistfully longing for fall. I am ready to harvest what precious few things my lack of skill and dilligence in the garden will yield to me, and till it under. Better luck next year (and maybe a little more perseverence by me).
The chickens are also on borrowed time. Oh, don't mistake my statement for frustration! I am, afterall, the "Crazy Cat Lady" of chickens. I adore those critters and will miss some of their clucks when harvest time comes. But...
As Alaska summers wind down into Autumn, a funny thing happens. Residents can sense winter coming. Spring and early summer are exciting, playful times. Fishing trips abound and we add our campers to the parks and roads just like the tourists we complain about. We forget the summer is (so) temporary- for just a little while.
Late summer hits, hunting season draws near, the salmon begin to run, and suddenly every Alaskan Resident has a serious case of "The End Is Near"-itis. The panic sets in. There are leaky windows to repair, firewood to gather, outdoor projects to finish (or, ahem, start). And the thought of spending a precious weekend repairing windows just does not compare to spending a weekend on Fielding Lake, roasting marshmallows and eating fresh caught lake trout.
J and I find ourselves in the midst of prioritizing projects. What HAS to be done vs. what SHOULD be done vs. what's gonna get done because I'm totally going camping.
The days are visibly shorter now. The house is actually dark at night. Morning still comes early, but you can tell that there was an official sunset the night before and a sunrise in the morning. I'll bet we still have more daytime than most places for now, but not for much longer.
In the evenings when I lock the chickens up for the night, I catch myself gazing at the sky and wondering when I'll get a glimpse of the moon again. I also know that the best time for Northern Lights is coming soon (usually September-ish), and I find myself wishing the night sky was dark enough for them to make a noticeable August appearance.
I am aware that this is where I digress from the main population here- but goodness! I do love the winter.
Meanwhile, the chickens could stand to get a little heavier before heading to the freezer. I'll be getting aggressive about fattening them up over the next few weeks, though no chicken will be sentenced to the choppig block until our pullets start laying AND my sweetheart has gotten his hunting done.
***
other thoughts:
- I am halfway done with a pair of hand knitted socks. J has alreay laid claim to this pair. They are nice enough that I contemplated "accidentally" making them too small... Like maybe my size. Lucky for J I lost track of rows and they definitely fit him now.
- Have had lots on my mind including a good book called "Created to be His Help Meet". Seriously, gals should read this book.
-Upcoming year's homeschool "plan" in the works. Beans has been asking for her school stuff every day for the last week. Little Nugget has been chiming in- "School! School! School!"
Ahhh- I LOVE homeschooling! While everyone else's kids are crying about only having so many days left of summer break, my girls are begging me to leave the great outdoors and come up with some school projects.
- "Met" (Internet) a new friend (I think she's gonna be, anyway) this week. I love stumbling upon kindred spirits- it helps me feel way less weird than I really am! (snort!)
Enough banter for one evening. Babies are dozing off. That means it's time to lock up some birds and indulge myself in a cup of tea, some dairy free chocolate (I agree- real chocolate is WAY better but I really have no choice until I cease being a dairy cow for Nugget), and work on the other half of my pair of socks.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
J washed (and dried) a wool hat I made for him. Personally, I am suspicious that it may have been on purpous, but we'll let it stand as "an accident". No problem. I made him another hat (didn't think I would let him off THAT easy, did ya?) and after sulking over the ruined hat for a while, decided I could so do something cute with it. Someone in my family is getting an adorable little bag for the holidays. Stay on the "nice" list- it's really a cute bag!
Anyhoo... The moral lesson is really this: stop whining. NOTHING is "The End of the World" except for, well... The End of the World.
Alaska, farming, and toddlers are teaching me that.
The garden is looking pathetic. A lack of nutrients and a lack of water are the primary culprits. (The goats did not help.) as the days get cooler and begin to show signs of being shorter, I find myself excited for and wistfully longing for fall. I am ready to harvest what precious few things my lack of skill and dilligence in the garden will yield to me, and till it under. Better luck next year (and maybe a little more perseverence by me).
The chickens are also on borrowed time. Oh, don't mistake my statement for frustration! I am, afterall, the "Crazy Cat Lady" of chickens. I adore those critters and will miss some of their clucks when harvest time comes. But...
As Alaska summers wind down into Autumn, a funny thing happens. Residents can sense winter coming. Spring and early summer are exciting, playful times. Fishing trips abound and we add our campers to the parks and roads just like the tourists we complain about. We forget the summer is (so) temporary- for just a little while.
Late summer hits, hunting season draws near, the salmon begin to run, and suddenly every Alaskan Resident has a serious case of "The End Is Near"-itis. The panic sets in. There are leaky windows to repair, firewood to gather, outdoor projects to finish (or, ahem, start). And the thought of spending a precious weekend repairing windows just does not compare to spending a weekend on Fielding Lake, roasting marshmallows and eating fresh caught lake trout.
J and I find ourselves in the midst of prioritizing projects. What HAS to be done vs. what SHOULD be done vs. what's gonna get done because I'm totally going camping.
The days are visibly shorter now. The house is actually dark at night. Morning still comes early, but you can tell that there was an official sunset the night before and a sunrise in the morning. I'll bet we still have more daytime than most places for now, but not for much longer.
In the evenings when I lock the chickens up for the night, I catch myself gazing at the sky and wondering when I'll get a glimpse of the moon again. I also know that the best time for Northern Lights is coming soon (usually September-ish), and I find myself wishing the night sky was dark enough for them to make a noticeable August appearance.
I am aware that this is where I digress from the main population here- but goodness! I do love the winter.
Meanwhile, the chickens could stand to get a little heavier before heading to the freezer. I'll be getting aggressive about fattening them up over the next few weeks, though no chicken will be sentenced to the choppig block until our pullets start laying AND my sweetheart has gotten his hunting done.
***
other thoughts:
- I am halfway done with a pair of hand knitted socks. J has alreay laid claim to this pair. They are nice enough that I contemplated "accidentally" making them too small... Like maybe my size. Lucky for J I lost track of rows and they definitely fit him now.
- Have had lots on my mind including a good book called "Created to be His Help Meet". Seriously, gals should read this book.
-Upcoming year's homeschool "plan" in the works. Beans has been asking for her school stuff every day for the last week. Little Nugget has been chiming in- "School! School! School!"
Ahhh- I LOVE homeschooling! While everyone else's kids are crying about only having so many days left of summer break, my girls are begging me to leave the great outdoors and come up with some school projects.
- "Met" (Internet) a new friend (I think she's gonna be, anyway) this week. I love stumbling upon kindred spirits- it helps me feel way less weird than I really am! (snort!)
Enough banter for one evening. Babies are dozing off. That means it's time to lock up some birds and indulge myself in a cup of tea, some dairy free chocolate (I agree- real chocolate is WAY better but I really have no choice until I cease being a dairy cow for Nugget), and work on the other half of my pair of socks.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Hometown Fair
The day started with sunlight pouring through the room darkening shades this morning. This is a welcome change from the seemingly constant rain we have received this summer, and immediately motivated me to do something today. Well, that and the fact that two kids bounded into my room with cries of, "Wake up, Mama!" Ignoring those requests for very long usually means sweeping gluten free cereal off every surface of the main floor, or cleaning up an entire roll of toilet paper or something of that nature.
The Fair is going on this weekend. In truth, I almost skipped it this year. Other than my auction items, I didn't submit anything this year, and with our recent hectic schedule, cranky girls, and a myriad of other lame excuses, I almost allowed myself to think it wouldn't be worth the "hassle". I'm glad I got my head out of my you-know-what. The Delta Fair is always worth it.
Small town fairs are just beautiful things. Straight out of books like "Charlotte's Web" or shows like "Andy Griffith". The parade is fun- and being a townie means recognizing almost everyone on each float, tractor, or fire truck. Standing in line to buy tickets and watching young men helping little old ladies manage their walkers, running into friends you only see a few times a year because they live "way out" or "over the river", and being surrounded by a good collection of cowboy hats just makes a wanna-be-country-girl sigh with contentment.
Last year was fun, but this year was different. Last year we were still really new in town, the odd faces in the crowd. This year, it took twice as long to make our way through the fair, as every ten feet or so we were greeting by the friends we've accumulated over the last year in Delta.
These are REAL relationships, folks. When I lived in the city, I "knew" people, but I really didn't "KNOW" them. There is a distancing our society has learned to keep- everyone at arm's length. We stay polite, but frankly don't tend to give a you-know-what about the people in our own homes, much less our neighborhood.
Where I live now is so different from that old me. A few years ago, I would have been annoyed by all the "interruptions" on my way to the 4H barn (who am I kidding? I wouldn't have gone near a barn back then!). Today, it was a relaxing pace, running into folks and remembering to congratulate them on their Fair Exhibit ribbons, or ask how their grandkids did in their latest ventures, or find out their latest farm, family, or work news.
We did finally make our way to the 4H barn, which is where I got my first dose of envy for the day. I wanted Johnny's alpacas and Lois' chickens. I met a very young man (maybe 10 years old) who actually convinced me that a drawf Nubian goat would be the answer to my desire for a goat that did not behave like the devil. I saw a turkey auctioned off for $190, and a pig that weighed 1000 pounds. If J wouldn't have killed me, I would have bought that pig. I fell in love with every chicken, turkey, and duck in that barn, and I left wondering why on earth I didn't bother to enter a couple of our own birds. We might have had a winner in there.
Next year. I just have to.
For all my old Southern friends who remember me as a city girl, I've got news for you: I went to my first Mud Bog, and LIKED it. I even suggested that J should take his beat up suburban and race it next year. Something REALLY country might have even come out of my mouth. Something like, "I dunno baby. I think the 'burban could do it. Plus, you'd look darn sexy doin' it!"
(I know, I know. I'm beginning to think the old me was abducted by aliens.)
We talked to another twenty or so people we knew on the way back to the main fairgrounds. I'm so happy to be a "local". I really do just love our community and friends. We personally know folks running for office here. One of them even grows the hay our animals sleep on. Our whole community is connected. I stopped at the Rifle Association booth to talk to my knitting friend. She's working on socks, doing a fund raiser for the rifle club, and sharing news about her grandson. She and her husband are the same folks who raise the bees that make my annual supply of honey. A dress she knitted for my baby girls is hanging in the exhibit hall with a blue ribbon on it. She made it when Little Nugget was sick. I can hardly contain my grin. I love this place. I love these people.
The exhibit hall struck my envy bone again. Why, oh why did I let myself be "too busy" to enter stuff? I recognize more than half the names on exhibits this year. As I gaze at Grand Champion ribbons, I also marvel at a dear friend's modesty. I recently asked this friend if she knew how to sew. She said, "A little, but nothing spectacular." she has most of the purple (Grand Champion) ribbons in the hall.
I meander through the fruits and vegetables on display. I wonder how to make my own garden produce stuff like that. I kick myself again. I could have entered my herbs.
Next year.
I chat my way through another sea of friendly faces on the way to the truck. The girls are tired, full of kettle corn and cotton candy, but happy to be riding in the wagon I've been pulling along. I load up the truck and think about how far I've come in the last year. I've lived in a lot of places in my thirty-something years. I have more friends, more fun, more REAL relationships in my life than I ever have before. My girls wave goodbye to the fair and ask if we can go tomorrow. I am noncommittal- still grinning at the way things change in life- and head for home. The girls are glad to see the house and to get out of the sun. I throw together a quick but nutritious dinner, settle the girls, and see my garden, livestock, and knitting projects in a new light. I can cultivate some winners here.
Each night, I ask the girls if they had a good day. "What was your favorite part?" This is a nightly question. They fall asleep telling me about mud bogs and giant pigs.
I love this life.
I watch the sun sink a little lower on the horizon tonight. Autumn is coming. You can feel it in the way that the nights require a sweatshirt, and you can tell by the fact that it actually gets slightly dark very very late in the evening.
I lock the birds into their coop. I close up the greenhouse. I take in one more sip of a summer night sky. I think about the neighbors. I am glad I know most of their names.
I'm glad I went to the Fair.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
The Fair is going on this weekend. In truth, I almost skipped it this year. Other than my auction items, I didn't submit anything this year, and with our recent hectic schedule, cranky girls, and a myriad of other lame excuses, I almost allowed myself to think it wouldn't be worth the "hassle". I'm glad I got my head out of my you-know-what. The Delta Fair is always worth it.
Small town fairs are just beautiful things. Straight out of books like "Charlotte's Web" or shows like "Andy Griffith". The parade is fun- and being a townie means recognizing almost everyone on each float, tractor, or fire truck. Standing in line to buy tickets and watching young men helping little old ladies manage their walkers, running into friends you only see a few times a year because they live "way out" or "over the river", and being surrounded by a good collection of cowboy hats just makes a wanna-be-country-girl sigh with contentment.
Last year was fun, but this year was different. Last year we were still really new in town, the odd faces in the crowd. This year, it took twice as long to make our way through the fair, as every ten feet or so we were greeting by the friends we've accumulated over the last year in Delta.
These are REAL relationships, folks. When I lived in the city, I "knew" people, but I really didn't "KNOW" them. There is a distancing our society has learned to keep- everyone at arm's length. We stay polite, but frankly don't tend to give a you-know-what about the people in our own homes, much less our neighborhood.
Where I live now is so different from that old me. A few years ago, I would have been annoyed by all the "interruptions" on my way to the 4H barn (who am I kidding? I wouldn't have gone near a barn back then!). Today, it was a relaxing pace, running into folks and remembering to congratulate them on their Fair Exhibit ribbons, or ask how their grandkids did in their latest ventures, or find out their latest farm, family, or work news.
We did finally make our way to the 4H barn, which is where I got my first dose of envy for the day. I wanted Johnny's alpacas and Lois' chickens. I met a very young man (maybe 10 years old) who actually convinced me that a drawf Nubian goat would be the answer to my desire for a goat that did not behave like the devil. I saw a turkey auctioned off for $190, and a pig that weighed 1000 pounds. If J wouldn't have killed me, I would have bought that pig. I fell in love with every chicken, turkey, and duck in that barn, and I left wondering why on earth I didn't bother to enter a couple of our own birds. We might have had a winner in there.
Next year. I just have to.
For all my old Southern friends who remember me as a city girl, I've got news for you: I went to my first Mud Bog, and LIKED it. I even suggested that J should take his beat up suburban and race it next year. Something REALLY country might have even come out of my mouth. Something like, "I dunno baby. I think the 'burban could do it. Plus, you'd look darn sexy doin' it!"
(I know, I know. I'm beginning to think the old me was abducted by aliens.)
We talked to another twenty or so people we knew on the way back to the main fairgrounds. I'm so happy to be a "local". I really do just love our community and friends. We personally know folks running for office here. One of them even grows the hay our animals sleep on. Our whole community is connected. I stopped at the Rifle Association booth to talk to my knitting friend. She's working on socks, doing a fund raiser for the rifle club, and sharing news about her grandson. She and her husband are the same folks who raise the bees that make my annual supply of honey. A dress she knitted for my baby girls is hanging in the exhibit hall with a blue ribbon on it. She made it when Little Nugget was sick. I can hardly contain my grin. I love this place. I love these people.
The exhibit hall struck my envy bone again. Why, oh why did I let myself be "too busy" to enter stuff? I recognize more than half the names on exhibits this year. As I gaze at Grand Champion ribbons, I also marvel at a dear friend's modesty. I recently asked this friend if she knew how to sew. She said, "A little, but nothing spectacular." she has most of the purple (Grand Champion) ribbons in the hall.
I meander through the fruits and vegetables on display. I wonder how to make my own garden produce stuff like that. I kick myself again. I could have entered my herbs.
Next year.
I chat my way through another sea of friendly faces on the way to the truck. The girls are tired, full of kettle corn and cotton candy, but happy to be riding in the wagon I've been pulling along. I load up the truck and think about how far I've come in the last year. I've lived in a lot of places in my thirty-something years. I have more friends, more fun, more REAL relationships in my life than I ever have before. My girls wave goodbye to the fair and ask if we can go tomorrow. I am noncommittal- still grinning at the way things change in life- and head for home. The girls are glad to see the house and to get out of the sun. I throw together a quick but nutritious dinner, settle the girls, and see my garden, livestock, and knitting projects in a new light. I can cultivate some winners here.
Each night, I ask the girls if they had a good day. "What was your favorite part?" This is a nightly question. They fall asleep telling me about mud bogs and giant pigs.
I love this life.
I watch the sun sink a little lower on the horizon tonight. Autumn is coming. You can feel it in the way that the nights require a sweatshirt, and you can tell by the fact that it actually gets slightly dark very very late in the evening.
I lock the birds into their coop. I close up the greenhouse. I take in one more sip of a summer night sky. I think about the neighbors. I am glad I know most of their names.
I'm glad I went to the Fair.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Cold Wind Blowing
Hard to believe, but the air is changing already around here. The last few nights have been chilly, dipping in the low 50s again. A reminder that we are overdue to haul in the winter's wood.
Homestead life has been busy. The chickens and turkeys are growing. We tried a couple week stint with goats. What's left of the garden (post goats) is doing well. After spending two weeks wreaking havoc on our homestead, the goats have found a new home until they are butchered. I should have blogged about those beasts when the stories were still fresh, but suffice it to say that many an artist has depicted the devil as a goat for good reason. Goat herding can be summed up in two words: Never Again.
Removing the goats brought instant peace and sanity back to the farm. Or at least made our usual chaos seem rather mild.
Meanwhile, we have been busy turning our plot into a regular little homestead. J has been working on his hunting and fishing skills and the freezer is stocked with bear hams, salmon, and a variety of fish. Subsitence hunting opens next week for moose and shortly after that, caribou. While he's tromping through the boreal forest for dinner, I'll be tending garden and babies, and fattening up chickens between trips to our berry picking spots. Raspberry jam and canned blueberries have already begun scenting our cabin and gracing pantry shelves. Homemade salsa joins the jams and berries on the shelves, and as the farmers market, garden, and God's country begin to do what they do, I do what I do... Preserve as much fresh bounty as we can (ha ha!) for the months where we forget that our ice land produces amazing fruits and vegetables.
This coming weekend is the Delta Junction Fair. If you are in town you should come on out. Be sure to stop
in the quilt hall and bid on the hand-knit items being auctioned to benefit Relay For Life. The two adorable pinch hats (if I may say so myself) are made by someone ya know. ;) Everything is beautiful and I am the newest knitter in the bunch... There is some good stuff out there for a great cause, so pony up. Then enjoy the heck out of the fair because it won't be back 'till next year. The 4H barn is always wonderful, and this year I have some little friends showing off their livestock. Hoping the best of ribbons for a few hopefuls!
With that, there are girls to tuck in and animals to pen up for the night.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Homestead life has been busy. The chickens and turkeys are growing. We tried a couple week stint with goats. What's left of the garden (post goats) is doing well. After spending two weeks wreaking havoc on our homestead, the goats have found a new home until they are butchered. I should have blogged about those beasts when the stories were still fresh, but suffice it to say that many an artist has depicted the devil as a goat for good reason. Goat herding can be summed up in two words: Never Again.
Removing the goats brought instant peace and sanity back to the farm. Or at least made our usual chaos seem rather mild.
Meanwhile, we have been busy turning our plot into a regular little homestead. J has been working on his hunting and fishing skills and the freezer is stocked with bear hams, salmon, and a variety of fish. Subsitence hunting opens next week for moose and shortly after that, caribou. While he's tromping through the boreal forest for dinner, I'll be tending garden and babies, and fattening up chickens between trips to our berry picking spots. Raspberry jam and canned blueberries have already begun scenting our cabin and gracing pantry shelves. Homemade salsa joins the jams and berries on the shelves, and as the farmers market, garden, and God's country begin to do what they do, I do what I do... Preserve as much fresh bounty as we can (ha ha!) for the months where we forget that our ice land produces amazing fruits and vegetables.
This coming weekend is the Delta Junction Fair. If you are in town you should come on out. Be sure to stop
in the quilt hall and bid on the hand-knit items being auctioned to benefit Relay For Life. The two adorable pinch hats (if I may say so myself) are made by someone ya know. ;) Everything is beautiful and I am the newest knitter in the bunch... There is some good stuff out there for a great cause, so pony up. Then enjoy the heck out of the fair because it won't be back 'till next year. The 4H barn is always wonderful, and this year I have some little friends showing off their livestock. Hoping the best of ribbons for a few hopefuls!
With that, there are girls to tuck in and animals to pen up for the night.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Sunday, June 20, 2010
A Changing
When you see something every day, it's easy to miss the subtle changes that vastly change the greater picture. It is true of many things.
I've been pondering this thought lately... I thought of it the other day while taking a walk with a friend. Early in spring (truthfully, when we still had snow in the forecast) we walked the woods and trails and noticed each miraculous plant and flower emerging from winter sleep. We were springtime detectives, noticing any bit of new growth.As we walked the same trails yesterday, we both giggled over how enamoured with spring (OK, desperate for it!) we were a couple short months ago. And while we still love foraging and our nature hikes, it is only the truly amazing or spectacularly large plants that catch our attention these days. As the spring rain, warmer temps, and (literally) a full day's sun lights on our Great North, the world has started growing so quickly that you can hardly even imagine the icy winter or the need for the wood stove.
I had a similar reminder of how much a thing can change this week. I'm not usually a big fan of things like Facebook. Aside from the fact that without Internet at the cabin which makes it tough to post often (a necessity, apparently), I am usually not prone to the otherwise ridiculous banter of things like that. "My dog farted and it was gross", and various other amazing things that people feel the need to share. (In all fairness though, I do occasionally post such ridiculousness, if only to fit in with my peers.) Otherwise, it's (supposedly) a tool to keep in touch.
Anyhoo...I found a handful of old friends from my paramedic days. Most of them are still hauling patients out of ditches and living the night life of sirens and coffee. I love my old friends. I really do. And I loved my old life.
I didn't realize how much a PERSON could change until I began catching a few of my old friends up on the Life and Times of Moose Nuggets. I have two more kids than most of them remember me having. I worked a full time job (for pay!) back then. Most of them can tell you that they couldn't ever even imagine me having the temperament to parent, much less be a farmer in the North.
One of them sent me a wonderful, heartfelt email. I had almost forgotten old nicknames I had on the ambulance (I'll spare you and my dignity of those!). This friend even told me they just couldn't imagine me in the life I describe here on my blog. I found that odd for a moment (what ELSE would I be doing???) and then it dawned on me,
I have changed. A Lot.
I am wrapping my mind around being so different. It happened like Alaska spring... a slow, nearly imperceptible thaw, an emergence of new growth, and suddenly, I am in the middle of an overgrown summer.
To go from trendy VW Bug driving, makeup wearing, espresso drinking, weekly manicure/pedicures, fine dining in trendy restaurants, and having ATTITUDE at ANYTHING "country" or "farmer-ish". Do you know that once upon a time, I dared to routinely utter the words, "I'm bored!" (Oh! I really did!)
I caught myself slowly driving through the mountain passes in my old Suburban. My hair hasn't seen a trim in month. A cup of percolated coffee was held in my dirt stained hands (what's the point of a manicure if you are shovelling chicken poop after breakfast?). I'm sure we probably had moose, caribou, or some kind of fish thawing in the fridge for dinner as I headed home to my farm. My exciting night life these days includes getting the kids and chickens to bed early enough to have energy to knit, or enough time to finish a book.
When did this happen?
A LONG time ago (maybe two years now)I mentioned how Alaska seemed to harbor some kind of vastness or hidden "power" to make you give up things that just aren't important. Two years ago, I was referring to old mind-haunts, things that I had trouble letting go of in my life, wrongs I received or doled out, those things in our minds that generally haunt us to our graves. Being in the vastness of Alaska made me realize they weren't worth holding onto anymore. Ditching those old haunts left me trying to figure out who I was without that anger, espresso, and enough loud city noise to drown out any calling I might have felt to lead me to a quiet place.
My dear friend was thrilled with my new life, even if they can't imagine me being the one living it. The difference between the old me and the current me has been rolling around in my head, and I find myself grinning like a pig in you-know-what as I do the quiet and unimaginable, like wash dishes, hang laundry, feed chickens, and muck out chicken coops.
***
In Alaska news, we are a day away from Summer solstice. The sun isn't as bothersome this year for me. I haven't even traded out our regular curtains for room darkening ones this year. This is our third spring, and the first one that feels like it's moving all too quickly. Maybe it's the homeownership (and realizing that any repairs and improvements have to be made in the next couple months before ice and snow return), maybe it's the busy-ness of farming, or finally being able to take the little kids exploring and adventuring. This spring flew by, and I have a feeling the summer is going to go just as quickly.
Oh, I won't lament winter time arriving. I still love Alaska in all it's extremes (plus, I'm itching to have time for all my winter hobbies again).
J returned from hunting with a 7'3" black bear. It's off being processed into a rug and sausage. (Also some bear jerky.) He'll be off in a week or so to get salmon, and I'll be busy filleting, wrapping, freezing, and possibly canning to replenish our cache. Our plan to grow, hunt, fish,forage, or raise most of our food is going well. I can't wait until the garden gets productive.
We've had rain and cool temps. I forget that the rest of the counry is sweating and begging for their air conditioning to work. I actually had to light a small fire in the woodstove this morning. The rain falling on a metal roof with a fire crackling in the wood stove and chickens cackling outside the door are just enough to make me giggle... Nope, Toto... we sure aren't where or who we used to be.
I'm okay with that.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
I've been pondering this thought lately... I thought of it the other day while taking a walk with a friend. Early in spring (truthfully, when we still had snow in the forecast) we walked the woods and trails and noticed each miraculous plant and flower emerging from winter sleep. We were springtime detectives, noticing any bit of new growth.As we walked the same trails yesterday, we both giggled over how enamoured with spring (OK, desperate for it!) we were a couple short months ago. And while we still love foraging and our nature hikes, it is only the truly amazing or spectacularly large plants that catch our attention these days. As the spring rain, warmer temps, and (literally) a full day's sun lights on our Great North, the world has started growing so quickly that you can hardly even imagine the icy winter or the need for the wood stove.
I had a similar reminder of how much a thing can change this week. I'm not usually a big fan of things like Facebook. Aside from the fact that without Internet at the cabin which makes it tough to post often (a necessity, apparently), I am usually not prone to the otherwise ridiculous banter of things like that. "My dog farted and it was gross", and various other amazing things that people feel the need to share. (In all fairness though, I do occasionally post such ridiculousness, if only to fit in with my peers.) Otherwise, it's (supposedly) a tool to keep in touch.
Anyhoo...I found a handful of old friends from my paramedic days. Most of them are still hauling patients out of ditches and living the night life of sirens and coffee. I love my old friends. I really do. And I loved my old life.
I didn't realize how much a PERSON could change until I began catching a few of my old friends up on the Life and Times of Moose Nuggets. I have two more kids than most of them remember me having. I worked a full time job (for pay!) back then. Most of them can tell you that they couldn't ever even imagine me having the temperament to parent, much less be a farmer in the North.
One of them sent me a wonderful, heartfelt email. I had almost forgotten old nicknames I had on the ambulance (I'll spare you and my dignity of those!). This friend even told me they just couldn't imagine me in the life I describe here on my blog. I found that odd for a moment (what ELSE would I be doing???) and then it dawned on me,
I have changed. A Lot.
I am wrapping my mind around being so different. It happened like Alaska spring... a slow, nearly imperceptible thaw, an emergence of new growth, and suddenly, I am in the middle of an overgrown summer.
To go from trendy VW Bug driving, makeup wearing, espresso drinking, weekly manicure/pedicures, fine dining in trendy restaurants, and having ATTITUDE at ANYTHING "country" or "farmer-ish". Do you know that once upon a time, I dared to routinely utter the words, "I'm bored!" (Oh! I really did!)
I caught myself slowly driving through the mountain passes in my old Suburban. My hair hasn't seen a trim in month. A cup of percolated coffee was held in my dirt stained hands (what's the point of a manicure if you are shovelling chicken poop after breakfast?). I'm sure we probably had moose, caribou, or some kind of fish thawing in the fridge for dinner as I headed home to my farm. My exciting night life these days includes getting the kids and chickens to bed early enough to have energy to knit, or enough time to finish a book.
When did this happen?
A LONG time ago (maybe two years now)I mentioned how Alaska seemed to harbor some kind of vastness or hidden "power" to make you give up things that just aren't important. Two years ago, I was referring to old mind-haunts, things that I had trouble letting go of in my life, wrongs I received or doled out, those things in our minds that generally haunt us to our graves. Being in the vastness of Alaska made me realize they weren't worth holding onto anymore. Ditching those old haunts left me trying to figure out who I was without that anger, espresso, and enough loud city noise to drown out any calling I might have felt to lead me to a quiet place.
My dear friend was thrilled with my new life, even if they can't imagine me being the one living it. The difference between the old me and the current me has been rolling around in my head, and I find myself grinning like a pig in you-know-what as I do the quiet and unimaginable, like wash dishes, hang laundry, feed chickens, and muck out chicken coops.
***
In Alaska news, we are a day away from Summer solstice. The sun isn't as bothersome this year for me. I haven't even traded out our regular curtains for room darkening ones this year. This is our third spring, and the first one that feels like it's moving all too quickly. Maybe it's the homeownership (and realizing that any repairs and improvements have to be made in the next couple months before ice and snow return), maybe it's the busy-ness of farming, or finally being able to take the little kids exploring and adventuring. This spring flew by, and I have a feeling the summer is going to go just as quickly.
Oh, I won't lament winter time arriving. I still love Alaska in all it's extremes (plus, I'm itching to have time for all my winter hobbies again).
J returned from hunting with a 7'3" black bear. It's off being processed into a rug and sausage. (Also some bear jerky.) He'll be off in a week or so to get salmon, and I'll be busy filleting, wrapping, freezing, and possibly canning to replenish our cache. Our plan to grow, hunt, fish,forage, or raise most of our food is going well. I can't wait until the garden gets productive.
We've had rain and cool temps. I forget that the rest of the counry is sweating and begging for their air conditioning to work. I actually had to light a small fire in the woodstove this morning. The rain falling on a metal roof with a fire crackling in the wood stove and chickens cackling outside the door are just enough to make me giggle... Nope, Toto... we sure aren't where or who we used to be.
I'm okay with that.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
A Rose By Any Other Name
Would be trail mix.
Beans and I have been studying plants and learning about safe foraging. (important things to learn about when you are two and something called "bane berry" looks inviting.) Alaska has an incredible number of wild and edible plants. Every day we learn or identify something new, I am amazed at how God provides for humans... Even in places labelled "barren".
Our own yard (not including our thriving garden) is full of so many amazing plants that are edible, medicinal, and just amazing.
We are quickly becoming foragers, and even putting some of our "mountain medicine" to good use. Combined with our garden, we have concocted some tasty teas with added benefits of curbing headaches, tummy aches, and even helping mosquito bites to stop itching. Here's one of our recent tasty teas:
Moose Nugget Forager Tea:
mint (from the garden. We used peppermint this is 50% of your tea)
wild rose petals (edible! Good trail snack!)
wild bluebells (also good trail snack)
wild raspbery leaves
strawberry leaves
dry all ingredients in a warm oven (170F ish) until dried. Cool and store. When you are ready for tea, lightly crush enough for your tea. Steep 5-10 minutes. Enjoy!
This is a great "reviving" tea when two small children have completely worn you out by nap time!
***
The rain stuck around for a few days. Now that we have a lull in the grey skies, Beans, Little Nugget and I ventured out to inspect the gardens and give the baby chicks some time in the sun. The baby chicks can hardly be called "babies" any more. They have their adolescent feathers, their combs are growing, and a definite pecking order is being established. We have a variety of breeds: Americaunas (they will lay green and blue eggs! Really!), Orpingtons, Brahmas, Red Sex Links, Black Sex Links, Silver Wyandottes, Columbian Wyandottes, Australorps, White Cornish, Black Cornish, Polish Chooks, Silkies, and one Bantam. We affectionately call our three older hens and our rooster "chicken mutts", as they descend from a line of various hens and *ahem* zealous roosters.
The six turkeys are Bronze (a breed, not just a color). What a clucky peepy little entourage they are. They are as eager for wild Alaska greenery as we humans are, and they make weeding the garden a pleasure. Beans and Nugget like to poke dandelions through the chicken fencing and watch the birds gobble them up. Ricky Bobby is a sucker for fireweed, and Baby Girl will get downright pecky over lamb's quarters.
Speaking of the garden, I suppose I could let y'all in on what's been planted.
We've got rows and rows of potatoes. J came wih me to the greenhouse and got a little excited about all the varieties of potatoes available. What I'll say about that is there are twothings I'd better not hear this winter. One is "I'm sick if potatoes". The other is "we are out of potatoes". Wih five rows planted (each row about 30 feet long), we'd better not run out of potatoes.
Onions make another 60 feet of garden space.
Strawberries and rhubarb grow together, next to rows of cauliflower and broccoli. Kholrabi, four varieties of lettuce, carrots, andradish make up about half of the remaining garden space. We have two pea tepees where green arrow peas and sugar snap peas are starting to grow. Celery, turnips, beets, zuchinni plants, green onions, and yellow squash fill the othe half, and an experimental bed of pumpkins round out the outdoor garden. The greenhouse is filled with tomato plants, cucumber, and several varieties of peppers.
A short walk to the house finds the porch surrounded with container gardens of herbs. Beans' "tea garden" consists of peppermint, lemon balm, spearmint, lavender, anise hyssop, and lavender bergamot. My kitchen herbs consist of rosemary, thyme, sage, oregano, cinnamon basil, and chives.
It sounds full and crowded, but I must make room for more. A dear friend gifte me with a chocolate mint plant, and I couldn't resist a couple of Roman chamomile plants in the nursery. I have several more starts coming from Washington State next week, and will start planting fruiting trees and bushes as well. I have two choke cherry trees waiting for holes to be dug when it dries out a little but more, as well as some edible flowers from seed and starts to be planted.
Phew! That makes it sound like a lot, but I am already looking forward to expanding the garden space next yer! There is so much more I WANT to grow!
Well, nap time is about over, and it looks like I'd better get the laundry off the line before the next set of storms rolls in. After that, a cup of Forager Tea and snuggle time with my sweet girls. Several of our butterflies have been emerging from their cocoons... A perfect segway to story time and craft time while we observe our new additions.
THIS is what I love about homeschooling:
from some measly caterpillars comes science, reading, arts and crafts, biology, and even religion... If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature. Old things are passed away. Behold, all things are become new!
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Beans and I have been studying plants and learning about safe foraging. (important things to learn about when you are two and something called "bane berry" looks inviting.) Alaska has an incredible number of wild and edible plants. Every day we learn or identify something new, I am amazed at how God provides for humans... Even in places labelled "barren".
Our own yard (not including our thriving garden) is full of so many amazing plants that are edible, medicinal, and just amazing.
We are quickly becoming foragers, and even putting some of our "mountain medicine" to good use. Combined with our garden, we have concocted some tasty teas with added benefits of curbing headaches, tummy aches, and even helping mosquito bites to stop itching. Here's one of our recent tasty teas:
Moose Nugget Forager Tea:
mint (from the garden. We used peppermint this is 50% of your tea)
wild rose petals (edible! Good trail snack!)
wild bluebells (also good trail snack)
wild raspbery leaves
strawberry leaves
dry all ingredients in a warm oven (170F ish) until dried. Cool and store. When you are ready for tea, lightly crush enough for your tea. Steep 5-10 minutes. Enjoy!
This is a great "reviving" tea when two small children have completely worn you out by nap time!
***
The rain stuck around for a few days. Now that we have a lull in the grey skies, Beans, Little Nugget and I ventured out to inspect the gardens and give the baby chicks some time in the sun. The baby chicks can hardly be called "babies" any more. They have their adolescent feathers, their combs are growing, and a definite pecking order is being established. We have a variety of breeds: Americaunas (they will lay green and blue eggs! Really!), Orpingtons, Brahmas, Red Sex Links, Black Sex Links, Silver Wyandottes, Columbian Wyandottes, Australorps, White Cornish, Black Cornish, Polish Chooks, Silkies, and one Bantam. We affectionately call our three older hens and our rooster "chicken mutts", as they descend from a line of various hens and *ahem* zealous roosters.
The six turkeys are Bronze (a breed, not just a color). What a clucky peepy little entourage they are. They are as eager for wild Alaska greenery as we humans are, and they make weeding the garden a pleasure. Beans and Nugget like to poke dandelions through the chicken fencing and watch the birds gobble them up. Ricky Bobby is a sucker for fireweed, and Baby Girl will get downright pecky over lamb's quarters.
Speaking of the garden, I suppose I could let y'all in on what's been planted.
We've got rows and rows of potatoes. J came wih me to the greenhouse and got a little excited about all the varieties of potatoes available. What I'll say about that is there are twothings I'd better not hear this winter. One is "I'm sick if potatoes". The other is "we are out of potatoes". Wih five rows planted (each row about 30 feet long), we'd better not run out of potatoes.
Onions make another 60 feet of garden space.
Strawberries and rhubarb grow together, next to rows of cauliflower and broccoli. Kholrabi, four varieties of lettuce, carrots, andradish make up about half of the remaining garden space. We have two pea tepees where green arrow peas and sugar snap peas are starting to grow. Celery, turnips, beets, zuchinni plants, green onions, and yellow squash fill the othe half, and an experimental bed of pumpkins round out the outdoor garden. The greenhouse is filled with tomato plants, cucumber, and several varieties of peppers.
A short walk to the house finds the porch surrounded with container gardens of herbs. Beans' "tea garden" consists of peppermint, lemon balm, spearmint, lavender, anise hyssop, and lavender bergamot. My kitchen herbs consist of rosemary, thyme, sage, oregano, cinnamon basil, and chives.
It sounds full and crowded, but I must make room for more. A dear friend gifte me with a chocolate mint plant, and I couldn't resist a couple of Roman chamomile plants in the nursery. I have several more starts coming from Washington State next week, and will start planting fruiting trees and bushes as well. I have two choke cherry trees waiting for holes to be dug when it dries out a little but more, as well as some edible flowers from seed and starts to be planted.
Phew! That makes it sound like a lot, but I am already looking forward to expanding the garden space next yer! There is so much more I WANT to grow!
Well, nap time is about over, and it looks like I'd better get the laundry off the line before the next set of storms rolls in. After that, a cup of Forager Tea and snuggle time with my sweet girls. Several of our butterflies have been emerging from their cocoons... A perfect segway to story time and craft time while we observe our new additions.
THIS is what I love about homeschooling:
from some measly caterpillars comes science, reading, arts and crafts, biology, and even religion... If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature. Old things are passed away. Behold, all things are become new!
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Rainy Day Women
Yes, another Bob Dylan reference.
It's been a rainy week. I'm not complaining. I love Alaska in all it's facets. Summer rain is amazing. It's the only time the sky gets "dark" this time of year. Plus, it means that I don't have to water the garden.
Lots of people go out in the rain here. J is one of them. He's off in Cordova, bear hunting.
Me? The rain rolling in makes me feel cozy. It's cooled off a bit (50s today) and even justified a small fire last night in the wood stove to knock the chill off. I've spent the rainy days catching up on mending and sewing... 3 aprons, a skirt, a dress for Beans, lots of mending and taking in some things. (The good thing about food allergies? I've dropped two sizes since we had to ditch gluten and dairy!)
I got ambitious with the sewing and seriously decreased my stash of stuff.
This is a good thing.
Earlier in the year, a friend of mine and I started a challenge to use up or finish all the projects and materials we already had in our stash. No new purchases at the fabric and yarn stores except notions. Well, I'm not sure where she is on her stash, but I officially only have two more projects in my sewing bin. (um, don't ask about the knitting stuff. Or needle work. I'm sure I have plenty of projects to finish before I can make a trip to the store for anything new!)
Anyhoo...
The rain on the green metal roof of the cabin has established a meditative patter. The girls have been busy with reading and playing. The chickens (Ricky Bobby in particular) are chattering angrily at the rain, and they apparently lackthe common sense to get in the coop instead of getting wet.
I am wondering how the bear hunt is going... WonderIng what bear meat is going to taste like (I'm told it tastes exactly like ham), and wondering which of our cabin walls is going to be sporting a dead animal.
For the record, I never ever once in my whole life ever thought there would be dead animals on my wall. Ever. But it seems that it's going to happen, so I'd better get used to the idea. And choose a good spot. I certainly don't want a snarling bear staring at me while I'm eating my breakfast or (gasp!) trying to sleep.
On the other hand, it's better than having a LIVE bear watching me do those things.
So the women folk are tending the farm and catching up on sewing, reading, and eating popcorn for dinner. The Mighty Hunter returns soon and will want an audience for bear tales and other excitement.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
It's been a rainy week. I'm not complaining. I love Alaska in all it's facets. Summer rain is amazing. It's the only time the sky gets "dark" this time of year. Plus, it means that I don't have to water the garden.
Lots of people go out in the rain here. J is one of them. He's off in Cordova, bear hunting.
Me? The rain rolling in makes me feel cozy. It's cooled off a bit (50s today) and even justified a small fire last night in the wood stove to knock the chill off. I've spent the rainy days catching up on mending and sewing... 3 aprons, a skirt, a dress for Beans, lots of mending and taking in some things. (The good thing about food allergies? I've dropped two sizes since we had to ditch gluten and dairy!)
I got ambitious with the sewing and seriously decreased my stash of stuff.
This is a good thing.
Earlier in the year, a friend of mine and I started a challenge to use up or finish all the projects and materials we already had in our stash. No new purchases at the fabric and yarn stores except notions. Well, I'm not sure where she is on her stash, but I officially only have two more projects in my sewing bin. (um, don't ask about the knitting stuff. Or needle work. I'm sure I have plenty of projects to finish before I can make a trip to the store for anything new!)
Anyhoo...
The rain on the green metal roof of the cabin has established a meditative patter. The girls have been busy with reading and playing. The chickens (Ricky Bobby in particular) are chattering angrily at the rain, and they apparently lackthe common sense to get in the coop instead of getting wet.
I am wondering how the bear hunt is going... WonderIng what bear meat is going to taste like (I'm told it tastes exactly like ham), and wondering which of our cabin walls is going to be sporting a dead animal.
For the record, I never ever once in my whole life ever thought there would be dead animals on my wall. Ever. But it seems that it's going to happen, so I'd better get used to the idea. And choose a good spot. I certainly don't want a snarling bear staring at me while I'm eating my breakfast or (gasp!) trying to sleep.
On the other hand, it's better than having a LIVE bear watching me do those things.
So the women folk are tending the farm and catching up on sewing, reading, and eating popcorn for dinner. The Mighty Hunter returns soon and will want an audience for bear tales and other excitement.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
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