Greetings from... Seattle, y'all!
Sorry it's been so long since the last Moose Nugget entry, but we've been a bit preoccupied in the Moose Nugget Household. Hold yer horses, I'm fixin' to explain...
We had some busy holidays. We decided on a whim to host a Christmas party at the Little Farm on the Tundra. Amazingly enough, our 860 sq ft of home-ownership COMFORTABLY housed close to 30 people during our revelry. Kids upstairs, big kids in the TV room, grownups in the dining/kitchen area, and a handful of guests around the burn barrel outside (if you keep the beer out there, the men tend to congregate around it, regardless of the temps outside). The party was fun and J and I plan on making it an annual event. J's goal for next year is to replicate a scene from a Chevy Chase film with Christmas lights (Goodness, help me!). My goal is to set up sled rides for the kids, if the weather will cooperate.
The holidays in themselves were, um.... a little crazy.
I woke the night before Christmas Eve (Christmas Eve Eve?) to a lonely bed. My sweetheart had snuck out of bed and I could hear him rustling around in the den. "Hmmm," I thought to myself. "I must be getting something REALLY good for Christmas if he's sneaking around downstairs!"
This is what I thought until I heard the unmistakable sound of vomit hitting porcelain. J landed himself a case of food poisoning just in time for the holidays.
*SIGH*
Christmas Eve was spent simultaneously nursing J back to health while fussing at him to get the rest of the Christmas stuff accomplished. I won't lie, and I won't sugar coat. I was grumpy and mean about J being sick for Christmas. Top that off with the fact that no matter how sick moms are, WE don't get sick days, I wasn't going to humor J with a day of rest. Nope. I think sometime around noon I *MIGHT* have said something like, "Aw, put your big boy undies on and quit whining like you have female anatomy. We have stuff to do and I am NOT doing it by myself."
Yeah. I know. It was pretty mean. Especially since he really was pretty sick.
Don't worry. Karma found me. Turns out it wasn't food poisoning, but the flu. And I got it Christmas Day. And I didn't get to stay in bed because there was Christmas Dinner to prepare. And just when I thought that I had paid the Karmic gods, J left for work and BOTH girls got the flu the day he went back to work. I think J is still snickering something about "paybacks"...
*SIGH*
Well, we survived, anyhow. The holidays were also a little hectic because of a phone call we got Christmas Day. Little Nugget hasn't been feeling so great the last few months and was having a few health issues. The doctor called us Christmas Day with the news that her lab work came back and that we needed to take her to Children's Hospital in Seattle for some tests that can not be done in the entire state of Alaska.
Should know what's going on within the week, so keep watching for a post.
So thus, our New Year begins. It was with a heavy heart that Little Nugget and I gave Beans and J kisses and got on the next flight to Seattle.
I just want to say that leaving a toddler waving goodbye in the airport can really break a gal's heart. Calling her to say "good night" from a hotel room and hear her little heart break when she realizes that mommy's not going to be there to "snuggle you to bed" or read stories is just enough to make you want to hug a hotel pillow tight and cry your eyes out.
The day was not lost... Turns out that Little Nugget is a much better traveller than her sister. A little nursing on take-off, and the sweet pea slept through the entire flight. She woke and cooed at the other passengers when we deplaned, and giggled at the driver that picked us up at the airport.
My hotel room is lovely (if not entirely too quiet!), the hotel has a nice view, and we have a free day before all our appointments at the hospital start. I've never been to Seattle and always wanted to go... so tomorrow, Little Nugget and I will be bonafide tourists. Nervousness over the hospital trip aside, how bad can it be to be in a town where I can find a coffee shop on every street corner (and then some)?
Will I conquer my fear of heights enough to visit the Space Needle? Probably not. But I may run out of money before I make my way through Pike Place Market.
I wish I had fun and witty things to say today. The only commentary I have worth noting is that I caught myself giggling at people in the Seattle airport that were complaining about how "cold" it was (um, 51 F), and explaining to people that no, I really didn't think my daughter needed a COAT. And I should mention that after spending almost two years in a town with a population of less that 1000 people, I felt a bit like Jed Clampett from the Beverly Hillbillies, when he first arrived in Cal-EE-Forn-EE-Ya. Star-Struck and Mooney-Eyed...
Y'all don't worry too much about Little Nugget. If you are praying types, pray, or meditate or do whatever you think brings good news. I'll post when we know something definite.
Until then, I am going to be basking in the 50 degree heaven with a cup o' joe at my beck and call.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Monday, January 4, 2010
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Sermon
Wow. I just realized I haven't been in here for a couple weeks.
Well, as usual, things have been busy in the Moose Nuggets Household. Not anything too exciting, just the usual stack of chores and various projects in process. With the Christmas holidays around the corner, the reality of my procrastination has sunk in and forced me into my knitting, crocheting, and crafting stash in a mad rush to finish up Christmas gifts.
Those of you who read regularly know... I'm not into the commercialism of Christmas.
And in recent years, this one especially, I have really started a lifestyle of reducing stuff in my life.
Oh, there's a lot of talk about "reduce, reuse, recycle", and a lot about reducing your carbon footprints. And I'll agree...every little bit counts. But I DO find it amusing that the pop-culture of "greenism" has us spending MORE, buying MORE. You can buy (more) green products. You can buy green bags. You can buy an Eco-Ego and feel good "saving the earth".
Hmph.
Wouldn't it be better to REALLY save the earth, instead of buying the illusion that we are going green?
This has taken space in my mind recently. We've been asked (over and over and over again) why we chose such a small house, such a small mortgage when our budget "clearly allows" for something much bigger and fancier. These questions are usually from the same people who have asked us in the past WHY on earth we would want to raise our own food, bake our own bread, cloth diaper our babies, or (gasp! the horror!) breastfeed past a first birthday. Most of the time, I allow people to think we are just crazy hippies, minus the dirt and dreadlocks. But the truth is... The REALITY of "saving the earth" (and ourselves along with it) is not going to be done by buying green products while we continue to be wasteful.
If I've learned one thing in life, it's that you don't waste what you work really hard to achieve.
For those that have asked... the small house is because I have discovered the secret to saving the planet. You ready?
If you REALLY want to reduce your carbon footprint... (drum roll please)
LIVE SMALLER.
Seriously. I'm a rocket scientist. Really.
Here's more "genius":
I have discovered that you waste a lot less food when you work hard to prepare it. Suddenly the last few slices of stale bread look like a good french toast instead of trash. And if you raise chickens (for eggs or meat), not only will you know where your food comes from, they are built in garbage disposals. They LOVE people food. So do pigs, if you want to raise your own pork. (I know, I know. Just a crazy hippie, minus the dirt and dreadlocks.)
Also on the genius scale:
You can't waste what you don't own. Meaning.... if you don't buy a lot of junk, you don't have to throw a lot of junk away. Or have to find room to store it.
A secret of the universe: Your kids will not die if they don't have their own separate rooms. (Our house rule: if you want your own room, get a job and an apartment. Until then, stay off your sister's bed.) They also will not die if they don't watch television. YOU will not die if you don't know who won the Super Bowl or if you don't find out what happened after Jon and Kate's divorce.
Yes, I am full of this kind of genius. I should write a book and go on Oprah, or something.
ANYHOO...
I'm gonna babble about some other stuff now.
Thanksgiving:
I hope everyone had a good one. I will say that I found myself quite "homesick" this year for family. I come from a decent sized family (most holiday gatherings include over 20 people, and that's when only the local family shows up). We had turned down an invitation to share the holiday with some friends because we wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving in our new house. With just the four of us, it was pretty small and kind of lonely. Lesson learned: Next year, invite people or accept an invitation. Or maybe fly home for the holidays.
(Although last year's trip with ONE toddler is still fresh in my mind and I am not anxious to do 20 hours of travelling with two small kids. Thanks.)
I would also like to add that it was an extremely bad idea to watch Food,Inc the night before Thanksgiving. It was incredibly informative (more on that in a moment) but good grief, J and I both had a hard time choking down the Butterball Turkey that was raised in a CAFO and most likely dipped in a chlorine bath. (For the record, all poultry commercially produced goes through that treatment. Or so says the video.)
In conjunction with Food,Inc I had also been busy reading a couple books. "Farm City" (can't remember the author's name), and "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver. Both are incredibly informative about eating locally produced food. The Kingsolver book really went the extra mile. Food, Inc was the icing on the genetically modified, bleached flour cake. I spent Thanksgiving Day reading labels on the very few processed foods we buy these days, and amusing J with tirades about the cost of transporting foods and the disgusting icky-ness of how that food reaches our table.
Lesson: Read these books and watch the movie, but NOT the night before a great feast. And keep reading, because next year, I'll be harvesting my own turkey. No more CAFO meats for our family.
The real lesson that came out of these books and movie: Raise your own food when you can, buy locally as much as possible. What is in commercially grown food is disgusting, for the record.
The Christmas holidays are coming up. The cabin has a small tree in the den and a handful of decorations. Beans has been busy inspecting the stockings (hung by the chimney with care, of course!) and trying her best to wait patiently for "Tenty-Claws". You know, the fat guy in the red suit. This year is FUN. Toddlers are so full of wonder and find all the new details amazing. I have had every Christmas tree in town pointed out with a breathless, "Wow! Amazing! Miss-a-miss tree, momma!" from the back seat. Little Nugget has been systematically un-decorating the Christmas tree...at least the ornaments she can reach.
The cabin has a definite "Little House" feel to it these days. We are settling into a lovely rhythm around the house of chores and family fun. The weather has been nice the last couple weeks, allowing some outdoor time in what little daylight we have these days. I've been willing to skip nap time, if it means Beans can tromp through the snow and work out some of her toddler energy. Most outings end with an exhausted Beans, who likes to lay flat, face up on the sled and demand I pull her home for "Hot Shocolate and Mush-Mellows" when she has finally had enough. The cabin is warm and cheery when everyone is awake. My favorite time of day is evening, when the outside is dark, the inside is glowing with dim lights and wood fire, and I can sit at my kitchen table with some knitting, getting the fire ready to be dampened down for the night. I really DO feel like Caroline Ingalls in the evening time.
The winter looks promising... lots of time for projects, and as soon as I catch up on all my holiday gift making, I'll be able to turn my attention to chicken coop plans and seed catalogs.
*SIGH*
This time of year is so LOVELY.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Well, as usual, things have been busy in the Moose Nuggets Household. Not anything too exciting, just the usual stack of chores and various projects in process. With the Christmas holidays around the corner, the reality of my procrastination has sunk in and forced me into my knitting, crocheting, and crafting stash in a mad rush to finish up Christmas gifts.
Those of you who read regularly know... I'm not into the commercialism of Christmas.
And in recent years, this one especially, I have really started a lifestyle of reducing stuff in my life.
Oh, there's a lot of talk about "reduce, reuse, recycle", and a lot about reducing your carbon footprints. And I'll agree...every little bit counts. But I DO find it amusing that the pop-culture of "greenism" has us spending MORE, buying MORE. You can buy (more) green products. You can buy green bags. You can buy an Eco-Ego and feel good "saving the earth".
Hmph.
Wouldn't it be better to REALLY save the earth, instead of buying the illusion that we are going green?
This has taken space in my mind recently. We've been asked (over and over and over again) why we chose such a small house, such a small mortgage when our budget "clearly allows" for something much bigger and fancier. These questions are usually from the same people who have asked us in the past WHY on earth we would want to raise our own food, bake our own bread, cloth diaper our babies, or (gasp! the horror!) breastfeed past a first birthday. Most of the time, I allow people to think we are just crazy hippies, minus the dirt and dreadlocks. But the truth is... The REALITY of "saving the earth" (and ourselves along with it) is not going to be done by buying green products while we continue to be wasteful.
If I've learned one thing in life, it's that you don't waste what you work really hard to achieve.
For those that have asked... the small house is because I have discovered the secret to saving the planet. You ready?
If you REALLY want to reduce your carbon footprint... (drum roll please)
LIVE SMALLER.
Seriously. I'm a rocket scientist. Really.
Here's more "genius":
I have discovered that you waste a lot less food when you work hard to prepare it. Suddenly the last few slices of stale bread look like a good french toast instead of trash. And if you raise chickens (for eggs or meat), not only will you know where your food comes from, they are built in garbage disposals. They LOVE people food. So do pigs, if you want to raise your own pork. (I know, I know. Just a crazy hippie, minus the dirt and dreadlocks.)
Also on the genius scale:
You can't waste what you don't own. Meaning.... if you don't buy a lot of junk, you don't have to throw a lot of junk away. Or have to find room to store it.
A secret of the universe: Your kids will not die if they don't have their own separate rooms. (Our house rule: if you want your own room, get a job and an apartment. Until then, stay off your sister's bed.) They also will not die if they don't watch television. YOU will not die if you don't know who won the Super Bowl or if you don't find out what happened after Jon and Kate's divorce.
Yes, I am full of this kind of genius. I should write a book and go on Oprah, or something.
ANYHOO...
I'm gonna babble about some other stuff now.
Thanksgiving:
I hope everyone had a good one. I will say that I found myself quite "homesick" this year for family. I come from a decent sized family (most holiday gatherings include over 20 people, and that's when only the local family shows up). We had turned down an invitation to share the holiday with some friends because we wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving in our new house. With just the four of us, it was pretty small and kind of lonely. Lesson learned: Next year, invite people or accept an invitation. Or maybe fly home for the holidays.
(Although last year's trip with ONE toddler is still fresh in my mind and I am not anxious to do 20 hours of travelling with two small kids. Thanks.)
I would also like to add that it was an extremely bad idea to watch Food,Inc the night before Thanksgiving. It was incredibly informative (more on that in a moment) but good grief, J and I both had a hard time choking down the Butterball Turkey that was raised in a CAFO and most likely dipped in a chlorine bath. (For the record, all poultry commercially produced goes through that treatment. Or so says the video.)
In conjunction with Food,Inc I had also been busy reading a couple books. "Farm City" (can't remember the author's name), and "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver. Both are incredibly informative about eating locally produced food. The Kingsolver book really went the extra mile. Food, Inc was the icing on the genetically modified, bleached flour cake. I spent Thanksgiving Day reading labels on the very few processed foods we buy these days, and amusing J with tirades about the cost of transporting foods and the disgusting icky-ness of how that food reaches our table.
Lesson: Read these books and watch the movie, but NOT the night before a great feast. And keep reading, because next year, I'll be harvesting my own turkey. No more CAFO meats for our family.
The real lesson that came out of these books and movie: Raise your own food when you can, buy locally as much as possible. What is in commercially grown food is disgusting, for the record.
The Christmas holidays are coming up. The cabin has a small tree in the den and a handful of decorations. Beans has been busy inspecting the stockings (hung by the chimney with care, of course!) and trying her best to wait patiently for "Tenty-Claws". You know, the fat guy in the red suit. This year is FUN. Toddlers are so full of wonder and find all the new details amazing. I have had every Christmas tree in town pointed out with a breathless, "Wow! Amazing! Miss-a-miss tree, momma!" from the back seat. Little Nugget has been systematically un-decorating the Christmas tree...at least the ornaments she can reach.
The cabin has a definite "Little House" feel to it these days. We are settling into a lovely rhythm around the house of chores and family fun. The weather has been nice the last couple weeks, allowing some outdoor time in what little daylight we have these days. I've been willing to skip nap time, if it means Beans can tromp through the snow and work out some of her toddler energy. Most outings end with an exhausted Beans, who likes to lay flat, face up on the sled and demand I pull her home for "Hot Shocolate and Mush-Mellows" when she has finally had enough. The cabin is warm and cheery when everyone is awake. My favorite time of day is evening, when the outside is dark, the inside is glowing with dim lights and wood fire, and I can sit at my kitchen table with some knitting, getting the fire ready to be dampened down for the night. I really DO feel like Caroline Ingalls in the evening time.
The winter looks promising... lots of time for projects, and as soon as I catch up on all my holiday gift making, I'll be able to turn my attention to chicken coop plans and seed catalogs.
*SIGH*
This time of year is so LOVELY.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Negative
As in, the temperature. Yup, we have dipped below zero in the last week or so. When I arrived at my knitting group last week, we chattered, with teeth chattering, about the temps around town. An interesting thing about the Delta area, the temps can be drastically different within a few miles. It was 12 below when I left my home. There was a 9 degree warm up between my house and the library.
There was a much bigger difference between our cabin and the temps in Fairbanks, as we discovered this past Monday when we rode to the Big City to get a few things. I noticed my feet were feeling a little chilly in my boots, but didn't think much of it until we passed the college, where the digital sign proved that it was -20F.
*sigh*
Let the winter begin.
Meanwhile, back at the Cabin, we have been carrying on, life as usual. And by "usual", I mean as unusual as we always live.
J returned, the triumphant hunter, carrying six dead snowshoe hares. While I DO like to eat the spoils, I am not very fond of the dead animals being washed in my sink. Or listening to their tiny little rabbit bones crunching under the kitchen knives. But J was doing his best to make what tastes like chicken LOOK more like chicken, so he wouldn't have anyone crying over the little dead bunnies. Namely, me. Followed by Beans who only recently saw Bambi and has suddenly come to understand that the meat on her plate used to be a cute fluffy thing.
ANYHOO... once the rabbits looked a little less like rabbits, I cooked one down for a LONG time (hares are not as tender as cottontails), then made J pull the meat from the carcass before mixing it together with a bunch of yummy things into a pot pie.
Here's a recipe:
One dead rabbit. Boil rabbit for 15 minutes, then discard that water and rinse the rabbit well. Return rabbit to pot with enough water to cover.
Add chicken bouillon (2 packets of Herb-Ox is what I used) and boil until it comes off the bone (about an hour, depending on how tough your rabbit is).
After you get the meat off the bones, return it to your stock with 6 cloves of garlic (I keep it whole. When you come across one in your dish, you can mash it up on a biscuit and it makes the best bite of garlic bread ever).
Add some seasoning you like. I use Italian herbs in almost everything I cook.
Add one onion, some carrots, celery, and other vegetables you like in your pot pie.
Cook it down until the veggies are almost soft.
THEN...
Thicken the broth into a gravy by adding flour to your pot.
Put a pie crust in a deep pie dish. Add your rabbit stew to it. Add another pie crust. Vent your pie crust. It helps if you make your vents into the shape of a little heart, so the poor bunny feels loved.
Bake it at 425F for 30-40 minutes or until the pie crust browns and the gravy starts to bubble through.
Serve in generous slices and talk loudly at the table about everyone's day, so everyone is too engaged to realize that Thumper has been served.
After dinner, realize that eating a rabbit was not so bad, and actually pretty tasty.
***
In other news, I also learned a new skill. You can add Woodsman to my "Jill-of-All-Trades" title.
The story is hilarious, so be sure you don't snort coffee all over your laptops, folks.
I woke yesterday in a particularly bad mood. Don't ask why. I have no clue myself. I found myself snarling and hissing at everyone in the house. Even Little Nugget. Around lunch time, J had enough of my bad attitude and decided we should bundle the girls up and go outside to do some work. After some snarling and hissing, I agreed. I stood glumly outside, Little Nugget strapped to me in the baby carrier, Beans bundled up like a character in "A Christmas Story", and I pouted at the winter sky. After a few minutes of standing around pouting and realizing that J was not paying me one bit of attention, I decided to get to work. Also, when it's 5 below zero, standing around is really not very fun anyway. I began stacking wood. And filled the wood crib in the house. And stacked more wood. J was busy, whistling to himself and digging snow away from the spot that the next wood pile needed to be stacked.
Well, in 5 below, girls get cold and tired long before the work wears out. I was just starting to work into a good rhythm of stacking when the girls needed to go in to warm up. I'll admit, this part of mommy-hood always disgruntles me a bit. I LIKE to work hard. I LIKE to challenge my body. I can be girly, but I honestly get a kick out of testing myself to see if I can do a "man's work". (My mother, one of the original girl-power hippies, would say there's no such thing as "man's work"- only work.) Good grief, that's why I was a paramedic in a state where the average human weighs about 300 lbs. (And no, they do not send "lifting assistance" to us girls out there!)
ANYHOO... my job was in the house with the kids. I made some hot cocoa and tended fires and babies. When J came in wanting to know what was for lunch, my Girl Power kicked into high gear and I demanded that HE tend food, fires, and babies. I threw on some gloves (not very good ones, in hindsight) and a light jacket (also not a good choice), and went out to the wood pile.
It didn't take long of me abusing the poor axe and maul before J came outside to "help".
In his defense, the poor guy only wanted to show me the proper way to split firewood. The way that doesn't destroy an axe and maul, and the way that doesn't injure his wife. And also, the way to actually split the wood instead of just splintering it all to heck.
This is where I should mention that I DON'T LIKE HELP. Especially if I am already in a pretty surly mood. The more J "helped", the more I noticed that I had inherited my mother's involuntary lip twitch... the dreaded lip twitch that always said, "Wow, kid. You really pushed too far this time." When my mom was madder than a wet hornet, her upper lip would twitch. And that's when I knew it was time to cease and desist. And get my hind quarters ready.
J finally stopped trying to help. I'm not sure if it was the enraged lip twitch that clued him in, or the fact that I was no longer facing the woodpile but the axe, but staring directly at him.
I stayed out at the woodpile hacking our precious firewood into bits until my hands-in the not very good gloves-started to hurt. I went in, defeated, and hands burning from the searing cold. J innocently asked how many logs I split.
Darn that lip twitch. I didn't have to say a word.
He simply said, "Oh. Well, cut yourself some slack. You've never split wood before. I'll teach you another time."
Oh. Poor guy. That was the wrong thing to say to a Girl-Power Chick who was just defeated by a "man-job".
As soon as I could feel my fingers, I dug out some better gloves. I laced up my heavy duty winter boots, and I donned a much more efficient jacket. Little Nugget stared at me with curiosity and giggled. Beans asked, "Mommy? Play snow? Yeah?"
"No baby. Mommy's not playing in the snow right now. You stay here with daddy."
I ignored J's questions... "Where are you going? Are you taking the car? When will you be back?"
As I shut the door, I hollered back (and excuse my language here folks...), "I'm NOT going to let some stupid piece of wood kick my ass."
I went outside, took a deep breath of very cold air (that hurts, by the way!), and gave that woodpile everything I had. Every ounce of my bad mood, every drop of surliness I could muster up, and every lip twitch I had. There was a little cussing at that wood pile. I'm pretty sure I told several pieces of wood that one way or another, I was going to split it, even if it was splintered into kindling before I landed a "good one" on it.
It took a few tries. And eventually, I did get the hang of it. Especially after I sheepishly looked around to be sure J didn't see me taking his advice on how to hold and swing the maul, and tried it his way. (Um, he was right. The first one I hit with his method split into two perfect pieces.)
After about an hour in the cold, and thinking about things, I suddenly realized I wasn't mad anymore. And while I wasn't frozen to the bone, I was getting a little chilly. And as my anger was whittled away in the woodpile, I started to notice the blister on my leg where my hastily tucked pant leg had been chaffing between my boot. I took a look around and noticed that I had hacked up about 1/4 cord, and thought..."That'll do, Moose Nugget, That'll do."
Panting, I leaned against the house. On the one hand, I was wishing I had the energy to finish the rest of the woodpile (another 1/4 cord, maybe a tad more), just so I could go in the house with a "See, Girlz Rock" attitude. Then, I realized that I just didn't have enough energy left in me to go back in saying "Nyah, Nyah, Nah, Nyah, Nyah". Nope. I had left getting up on the wrong side of the bed out in the stack of wood. It sure was gonna feel good to throw one of MY pieces of split wood into to the stove to warm up by.
By the time I stopped panting, but before the dull ache in my hands and back that every new woodman feels could set in, I tromped in the house, glasses fogging up as the warm air hit them and said, "Hey you! Man! Go look at the wood pile!"
I was pretty proud. And I can say that I would definitely chop wood again. If I had to.
For the record, my hands still ache. But gosh, that fire sure was cozy last night.
Plenty on the to-do list this week. The holidays are coming up, and those of you who have been reading for a while know that Thanksgiving is my very favorite holiday. This week will be full of preparations... there's cranberries to boil into sauce, there's pumpkins to cook down for pies. There's potatoes to mash, Green Stuff to make, and lots of other goodies. There's also the guest list to attend to. It's a Moose Nugget tradition to invite folks that would otherwise be spending the holiday alone. I just can't bring myself to ignore someone who would otherwise have to spend Thanksgiving eating Chow Hall Turkey.
If you are a reader, give some consideration to your own guest list. Whether you are hosting or you are a guest in someone else's traditions, see if there might be room for one more chair at your table, and invite someone who needs to feel like they are a part of a family for the day.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
There was a much bigger difference between our cabin and the temps in Fairbanks, as we discovered this past Monday when we rode to the Big City to get a few things. I noticed my feet were feeling a little chilly in my boots, but didn't think much of it until we passed the college, where the digital sign proved that it was -20F.
*sigh*
Let the winter begin.
Meanwhile, back at the Cabin, we have been carrying on, life as usual. And by "usual", I mean as unusual as we always live.
J returned, the triumphant hunter, carrying six dead snowshoe hares. While I DO like to eat the spoils, I am not very fond of the dead animals being washed in my sink. Or listening to their tiny little rabbit bones crunching under the kitchen knives. But J was doing his best to make what tastes like chicken LOOK more like chicken, so he wouldn't have anyone crying over the little dead bunnies. Namely, me. Followed by Beans who only recently saw Bambi and has suddenly come to understand that the meat on her plate used to be a cute fluffy thing.
ANYHOO... once the rabbits looked a little less like rabbits, I cooked one down for a LONG time (hares are not as tender as cottontails), then made J pull the meat from the carcass before mixing it together with a bunch of yummy things into a pot pie.
Here's a recipe:
One dead rabbit. Boil rabbit for 15 minutes, then discard that water and rinse the rabbit well. Return rabbit to pot with enough water to cover.
Add chicken bouillon (2 packets of Herb-Ox is what I used) and boil until it comes off the bone (about an hour, depending on how tough your rabbit is).
After you get the meat off the bones, return it to your stock with 6 cloves of garlic (I keep it whole. When you come across one in your dish, you can mash it up on a biscuit and it makes the best bite of garlic bread ever).
Add some seasoning you like. I use Italian herbs in almost everything I cook.
Add one onion, some carrots, celery, and other vegetables you like in your pot pie.
Cook it down until the veggies are almost soft.
THEN...
Thicken the broth into a gravy by adding flour to your pot.
Put a pie crust in a deep pie dish. Add your rabbit stew to it. Add another pie crust. Vent your pie crust. It helps if you make your vents into the shape of a little heart, so the poor bunny feels loved.
Bake it at 425F for 30-40 minutes or until the pie crust browns and the gravy starts to bubble through.
Serve in generous slices and talk loudly at the table about everyone's day, so everyone is too engaged to realize that Thumper has been served.
After dinner, realize that eating a rabbit was not so bad, and actually pretty tasty.
***
In other news, I also learned a new skill. You can add Woodsman to my "Jill-of-All-Trades" title.
The story is hilarious, so be sure you don't snort coffee all over your laptops, folks.
I woke yesterday in a particularly bad mood. Don't ask why. I have no clue myself. I found myself snarling and hissing at everyone in the house. Even Little Nugget. Around lunch time, J had enough of my bad attitude and decided we should bundle the girls up and go outside to do some work. After some snarling and hissing, I agreed. I stood glumly outside, Little Nugget strapped to me in the baby carrier, Beans bundled up like a character in "A Christmas Story", and I pouted at the winter sky. After a few minutes of standing around pouting and realizing that J was not paying me one bit of attention, I decided to get to work. Also, when it's 5 below zero, standing around is really not very fun anyway. I began stacking wood. And filled the wood crib in the house. And stacked more wood. J was busy, whistling to himself and digging snow away from the spot that the next wood pile needed to be stacked.
Well, in 5 below, girls get cold and tired long before the work wears out. I was just starting to work into a good rhythm of stacking when the girls needed to go in to warm up. I'll admit, this part of mommy-hood always disgruntles me a bit. I LIKE to work hard. I LIKE to challenge my body. I can be girly, but I honestly get a kick out of testing myself to see if I can do a "man's work". (My mother, one of the original girl-power hippies, would say there's no such thing as "man's work"- only work.) Good grief, that's why I was a paramedic in a state where the average human weighs about 300 lbs. (And no, they do not send "lifting assistance" to us girls out there!)
ANYHOO... my job was in the house with the kids. I made some hot cocoa and tended fires and babies. When J came in wanting to know what was for lunch, my Girl Power kicked into high gear and I demanded that HE tend food, fires, and babies. I threw on some gloves (not very good ones, in hindsight) and a light jacket (also not a good choice), and went out to the wood pile.
It didn't take long of me abusing the poor axe and maul before J came outside to "help".
In his defense, the poor guy only wanted to show me the proper way to split firewood. The way that doesn't destroy an axe and maul, and the way that doesn't injure his wife. And also, the way to actually split the wood instead of just splintering it all to heck.
This is where I should mention that I DON'T LIKE HELP. Especially if I am already in a pretty surly mood. The more J "helped", the more I noticed that I had inherited my mother's involuntary lip twitch... the dreaded lip twitch that always said, "Wow, kid. You really pushed too far this time." When my mom was madder than a wet hornet, her upper lip would twitch. And that's when I knew it was time to cease and desist. And get my hind quarters ready.
J finally stopped trying to help. I'm not sure if it was the enraged lip twitch that clued him in, or the fact that I was no longer facing the woodpile but the axe, but staring directly at him.
I stayed out at the woodpile hacking our precious firewood into bits until my hands-in the not very good gloves-started to hurt. I went in, defeated, and hands burning from the searing cold. J innocently asked how many logs I split.
Darn that lip twitch. I didn't have to say a word.
He simply said, "Oh. Well, cut yourself some slack. You've never split wood before. I'll teach you another time."
Oh. Poor guy. That was the wrong thing to say to a Girl-Power Chick who was just defeated by a "man-job".
As soon as I could feel my fingers, I dug out some better gloves. I laced up my heavy duty winter boots, and I donned a much more efficient jacket. Little Nugget stared at me with curiosity and giggled. Beans asked, "Mommy? Play snow? Yeah?"
"No baby. Mommy's not playing in the snow right now. You stay here with daddy."
I ignored J's questions... "Where are you going? Are you taking the car? When will you be back?"
As I shut the door, I hollered back (and excuse my language here folks...), "I'm NOT going to let some stupid piece of wood kick my ass."
I went outside, took a deep breath of very cold air (that hurts, by the way!), and gave that woodpile everything I had. Every ounce of my bad mood, every drop of surliness I could muster up, and every lip twitch I had. There was a little cussing at that wood pile. I'm pretty sure I told several pieces of wood that one way or another, I was going to split it, even if it was splintered into kindling before I landed a "good one" on it.
It took a few tries. And eventually, I did get the hang of it. Especially after I sheepishly looked around to be sure J didn't see me taking his advice on how to hold and swing the maul, and tried it his way. (Um, he was right. The first one I hit with his method split into two perfect pieces.)
After about an hour in the cold, and thinking about things, I suddenly realized I wasn't mad anymore. And while I wasn't frozen to the bone, I was getting a little chilly. And as my anger was whittled away in the woodpile, I started to notice the blister on my leg where my hastily tucked pant leg had been chaffing between my boot. I took a look around and noticed that I had hacked up about 1/4 cord, and thought..."That'll do, Moose Nugget, That'll do."
Panting, I leaned against the house. On the one hand, I was wishing I had the energy to finish the rest of the woodpile (another 1/4 cord, maybe a tad more), just so I could go in the house with a "See, Girlz Rock" attitude. Then, I realized that I just didn't have enough energy left in me to go back in saying "Nyah, Nyah, Nah, Nyah, Nyah". Nope. I had left getting up on the wrong side of the bed out in the stack of wood. It sure was gonna feel good to throw one of MY pieces of split wood into to the stove to warm up by.
By the time I stopped panting, but before the dull ache in my hands and back that every new woodman feels could set in, I tromped in the house, glasses fogging up as the warm air hit them and said, "Hey you! Man! Go look at the wood pile!"
I was pretty proud. And I can say that I would definitely chop wood again. If I had to.
For the record, my hands still ache. But gosh, that fire sure was cozy last night.
Plenty on the to-do list this week. The holidays are coming up, and those of you who have been reading for a while know that Thanksgiving is my very favorite holiday. This week will be full of preparations... there's cranberries to boil into sauce, there's pumpkins to cook down for pies. There's potatoes to mash, Green Stuff to make, and lots of other goodies. There's also the guest list to attend to. It's a Moose Nugget tradition to invite folks that would otherwise be spending the holiday alone. I just can't bring myself to ignore someone who would otherwise have to spend Thanksgiving eating Chow Hall Turkey.
If you are a reader, give some consideration to your own guest list. Whether you are hosting or you are a guest in someone else's traditions, see if there might be room for one more chair at your table, and invite someone who needs to feel like they are a part of a family for the day.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Learning Curve
There is a learning curve to a wood stove. Just like each person is unique, so is each wood stove. I seriously think they all have their own little personalities, and they interact with the house and each operator on an individual basis.
We've been on a bit of a learning curve with our stove. The previous owner/builder was incredibly proud of his "airtight" design. And "airtight" is great, if you happen to be a Ziploc bag. If you happen to be a wood stove, or a family trying to operate one, a little air-tight would be nice.
There's a lot of science behind a wood stove. Kind of makes me wish I had payed attention to the boring droning of Mr. Wooten instead of making goo-goo eyes at Aaron Whats-His-Name in high school. But seriously, I never thought I would REALLY need to know things like "combustion" and "draft", or REALLY need to know what happens when you create a vacuum.
For the record, when you create a vacuum, bad things happen. And when you live air-tight, you create vacuums every time you turn on a "mechanical draft" (another term I should have payed attention to in school).
Mechanical draft happens when you turn on things like your clothes dryer. Or an electric fan. Or a vent fan in the bathroom. And when you create a vacuum with this mechanical draft, FIRE (and smoke) tend to follow the path of oxygen, which, unfortunately, is NOT up the chimney. Nope, it's right in the direction of that mechanical draft, which happens to be IN our house.
Not to worry. We haven't burnt to the ground. A frantic call to the wood stove dealer -and a few chuckles from his end of the phone as he listened to me tell poor little Beans, "NOT NOW BEANS! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY AND YOU MUST GO PLAY WITH BARBIES IN THE OTHER ROOM UNTIL I'M DONE!"- solved the issue temporarily. Turns out that you can counter a mechanical draft by simply opening a window near the wood stove. Another detail I should have payed attention to in science class.
*ahem*
The long term solution is to have a guy come put some holes in our house. Specifically, some kind of venting system that allows outside air in the house. He's coming Tuesday.
Meanwhile... we have been busy learning other lessons in fire. Like how to build up a good coal bed, or just how far to damper down the stove so you don't have to get up in the middle of the night to build another one.
Or, how to communicate with your spouse about the plans for the day so that he doesn't stoke up a hot, hot fire right before he leaves for work when you were planning on canning some applesauce and baking bread this morning.
Phew! That was one HOT, HOT house. A thermometer in the house claims it was 84F. I made applesauce and pear compote and cranberry sauce as fast as I could, got it canned, and decided that the bread would have to wait one more day. I'll let that coal bed burn down a bit, and get my bread started in the morning, and let the oven knock the chill off a bit.
Speaking of chill... today was warmer than the last few, but we've already dipped below zero here! The days have been hovering in the teens, though today, we did see 30F again.
Otherwise, the news is uneventful. We have a few finishing touches on the inside of the cabin to make it homey and maximize some storage space. Since much of that requires a trip to Fairbanks (which is on the books for next week anyway), and the cabin takes little time to clean, my week was free to pursue home school projects with abandon and begin working on J's grandmother's crazy quilt. I've almost finished up the patch work from where she left off. Hoping to be able to get to the handwork next week, then all that will be left is to quilt it up.
The cabin has a lovely peacefulness to it. I thought I would certainly have TV withdrawal, but I haven't. My evening was spent doing some journalling. I could hear Beans quietly playing with legos under the dining room table (a favorite hiding spot these days). Little Nugget fell asleep at the breast, and as I looked up from my journal to stretch my neck, I noticed that the only other sound was the quiet hiss of the tea pot on the wood stove, promising me a nice cup of something hot after I tuck the kids into bed.
We've had visitors in the yard! Hare trails are all over the property. Another set of fox tracks have followed one of the bunny trails into the trees. Beans and I suited up on one of the warmer days last week and followed the bunny trails around the property, wondering where they disappear to. Grouse and other birds chatter in the woods all day long. I wonder where they are and if I'd be a decent shot with an air rifle. (Hey, grouse and rabbit make good dinner!)
This is my new TV sitcom... Animal Track TV and Wood Stove TV. I could watch those two channels all day.
Well, little feet are pitter-pattering the back of my seat, signalling that my time in the library parking lot using the wi-fi is over. Time to get my brood back to cabin and get the chores done. Dishes to wash, wood to bring in for the night, and laundry to fold... not to mention bathing and sending two little ones off to bed so I can have that cup of tea.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
We've been on a bit of a learning curve with our stove. The previous owner/builder was incredibly proud of his "airtight" design. And "airtight" is great, if you happen to be a Ziploc bag. If you happen to be a wood stove, or a family trying to operate one, a little air-tight would be nice.
There's a lot of science behind a wood stove. Kind of makes me wish I had payed attention to the boring droning of Mr. Wooten instead of making goo-goo eyes at Aaron Whats-His-Name in high school. But seriously, I never thought I would REALLY need to know things like "combustion" and "draft", or REALLY need to know what happens when you create a vacuum.
For the record, when you create a vacuum, bad things happen. And when you live air-tight, you create vacuums every time you turn on a "mechanical draft" (another term I should have payed attention to in school).
Mechanical draft happens when you turn on things like your clothes dryer. Or an electric fan. Or a vent fan in the bathroom. And when you create a vacuum with this mechanical draft, FIRE (and smoke) tend to follow the path of oxygen, which, unfortunately, is NOT up the chimney. Nope, it's right in the direction of that mechanical draft, which happens to be IN our house.
Not to worry. We haven't burnt to the ground. A frantic call to the wood stove dealer -and a few chuckles from his end of the phone as he listened to me tell poor little Beans, "NOT NOW BEANS! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY AND YOU MUST GO PLAY WITH BARBIES IN THE OTHER ROOM UNTIL I'M DONE!"- solved the issue temporarily. Turns out that you can counter a mechanical draft by simply opening a window near the wood stove. Another detail I should have payed attention to in science class.
*ahem*
The long term solution is to have a guy come put some holes in our house. Specifically, some kind of venting system that allows outside air in the house. He's coming Tuesday.
Meanwhile... we have been busy learning other lessons in fire. Like how to build up a good coal bed, or just how far to damper down the stove so you don't have to get up in the middle of the night to build another one.
Or, how to communicate with your spouse about the plans for the day so that he doesn't stoke up a hot, hot fire right before he leaves for work when you were planning on canning some applesauce and baking bread this morning.
Phew! That was one HOT, HOT house. A thermometer in the house claims it was 84F. I made applesauce and pear compote and cranberry sauce as fast as I could, got it canned, and decided that the bread would have to wait one more day. I'll let that coal bed burn down a bit, and get my bread started in the morning, and let the oven knock the chill off a bit.
Speaking of chill... today was warmer than the last few, but we've already dipped below zero here! The days have been hovering in the teens, though today, we did see 30F again.
Otherwise, the news is uneventful. We have a few finishing touches on the inside of the cabin to make it homey and maximize some storage space. Since much of that requires a trip to Fairbanks (which is on the books for next week anyway), and the cabin takes little time to clean, my week was free to pursue home school projects with abandon and begin working on J's grandmother's crazy quilt. I've almost finished up the patch work from where she left off. Hoping to be able to get to the handwork next week, then all that will be left is to quilt it up.
The cabin has a lovely peacefulness to it. I thought I would certainly have TV withdrawal, but I haven't. My evening was spent doing some journalling. I could hear Beans quietly playing with legos under the dining room table (a favorite hiding spot these days). Little Nugget fell asleep at the breast, and as I looked up from my journal to stretch my neck, I noticed that the only other sound was the quiet hiss of the tea pot on the wood stove, promising me a nice cup of something hot after I tuck the kids into bed.
We've had visitors in the yard! Hare trails are all over the property. Another set of fox tracks have followed one of the bunny trails into the trees. Beans and I suited up on one of the warmer days last week and followed the bunny trails around the property, wondering where they disappear to. Grouse and other birds chatter in the woods all day long. I wonder where they are and if I'd be a decent shot with an air rifle. (Hey, grouse and rabbit make good dinner!)
This is my new TV sitcom... Animal Track TV and Wood Stove TV. I could watch those two channels all day.
Well, little feet are pitter-pattering the back of my seat, signalling that my time in the library parking lot using the wi-fi is over. Time to get my brood back to cabin and get the chores done. Dishes to wash, wood to bring in for the night, and laundry to fold... not to mention bathing and sending two little ones off to bed so I can have that cup of tea.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Monday, October 26, 2009
Post Card Perfect
The move is nearly finished. J has been making frequent trips to the old rental to bring home the "little things", as we see what will fit in our cabin and what won't. It's amazing what you decide you can live without when there really is no room for extra junk.
Already, the skeptics have offered their opinions. As we continue to downsize, we have gotten several well meaning comments and questions about "HOW" we are going to live in our new space.
Truth is, we love it.
We love the downsizing. We love realizing that we THOUGHT we "couldn't live without" something, and discovering that life is easier and more pleasant without that thing.
Example: We had to leave the microwave behind. There really is NO room for it. And it took me a full week to even notice it was gone. And when our leftover biscuits were warmed up in the already-warm oven that I cooked dinner in, J and I both wondered why we had ever used the microwave to do this task. The biscuits weren't soggy or chewy, the way a microwave can make them. They tasted like I had just baked them. Spread with some homemade apple butter (not mine, a gift from a neighbor), they were perfect.
Another Example: With limited closets, we had to downsize wardrobes. It's amazing what you can find in your closet when you look. We donated enough clothing to dress another family! And I promise, we still have "too much".
When we looked at what we own vs. what we use, it was nearly shameful. Even being more conscientious than most consumers, we are still so sadly wasteful. We gave away, sold, or donated nearly almost an entire household worth of stuff. Several friends are amazed and pleased with their new treasures, and I'm glad we found useful homes for our things that had to go, but it was with a heavy heart... NOT because I miss those things, but because at one point in life, J and I must have thought, "Our lives will not be complete or operate smoothly without that thing".
What an enormous amount of waste.
And amazing that we still have plenty of luxuries left over. I still have some of my fancy pants kitchen stuff. J still has some fancy pants tools and personal items. The girls still have more toys than they need.
*sigh*
So we are nearly finished with our move. The finishing touches and unpacking are in full swing. The experience has me seriously rethinking the necessities in life.
I took these thoughts outdoors with me this morning to stand in the fresh air and look at my new surroundings. Snow began falling some time in the night, and the cabin had a light dusting of snow. There was about an inch of the white stuff on the ground. I noticed a moose wandered through the yard and left some tracks shortly after the snow began falling. The trees were beginning to hold some snow, and it truly was postcard perfect.
The downsizing and organizing continues.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Already, the skeptics have offered their opinions. As we continue to downsize, we have gotten several well meaning comments and questions about "HOW" we are going to live in our new space.
Truth is, we love it.
We love the downsizing. We love realizing that we THOUGHT we "couldn't live without" something, and discovering that life is easier and more pleasant without that thing.
Example: We had to leave the microwave behind. There really is NO room for it. And it took me a full week to even notice it was gone. And when our leftover biscuits were warmed up in the already-warm oven that I cooked dinner in, J and I both wondered why we had ever used the microwave to do this task. The biscuits weren't soggy or chewy, the way a microwave can make them. They tasted like I had just baked them. Spread with some homemade apple butter (not mine, a gift from a neighbor), they were perfect.
Another Example: With limited closets, we had to downsize wardrobes. It's amazing what you can find in your closet when you look. We donated enough clothing to dress another family! And I promise, we still have "too much".
When we looked at what we own vs. what we use, it was nearly shameful. Even being more conscientious than most consumers, we are still so sadly wasteful. We gave away, sold, or donated nearly almost an entire household worth of stuff. Several friends are amazed and pleased with their new treasures, and I'm glad we found useful homes for our things that had to go, but it was with a heavy heart... NOT because I miss those things, but because at one point in life, J and I must have thought, "Our lives will not be complete or operate smoothly without that thing".
What an enormous amount of waste.
And amazing that we still have plenty of luxuries left over. I still have some of my fancy pants kitchen stuff. J still has some fancy pants tools and personal items. The girls still have more toys than they need.
*sigh*
So we are nearly finished with our move. The finishing touches and unpacking are in full swing. The experience has me seriously rethinking the necessities in life.
I took these thoughts outdoors with me this morning to stand in the fresh air and look at my new surroundings. Snow began falling some time in the night, and the cabin had a light dusting of snow. There was about an inch of the white stuff on the ground. I noticed a moose wandered through the yard and left some tracks shortly after the snow began falling. The trees were beginning to hold some snow, and it truly was postcard perfect.
The downsizing and organizing continues.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Moving Day
A short break among some very busy work...
We finally got the keys to the house, and Little Farm on the Tundra is slowly setting up shop. I would much rather skip to the fun stuff (chicken coops and greenhouses) than the current task (trying to figure out how to fit 1500 sq ft of belongings into 860 sq ft of space), but the reality is we need to get our stuff in the house, and soon. The skies are threatening to snow, and a light dusting of the white stuff has already made the roads a little slick.
The first day in the new homestead was a lot of sitting around and waiting. We were lucky enough to find someone willing to install our new Princess Ultra Blaze King wood stove the same day (and didn't overcharge us, either). And while it went quickly for stove installations, it did take some time. It was worth it though. After a little bit of playing around with the controls, we managed to get a good burn and were able to damper things down to keep the house at a comfy 70-ish degrees. The fire lasted through the night. No one froze or even woke up too hot or too cold. There were still even a few coals in the bottom this morning, and a few pieces of wood this morning started the heat cycle again.
The first night was pure bliss. Even in a place as small as Fort Greely, you can forget what QUIET sounds like. After babies were snoozing, I ducked out to take a peek at our surroundings. With no porch lights and trees between us and all our neighbors, it was dark enough to not even be able to see J's truck, which wasn't parked but 10 feet from me. The QUIET startled me at first. It took a moment to realize that the rustling I heard was my own two feet, and the exhalations weren't from animals lurking in the dark, but my own steady breathing. An nearby dog barked once or twice, and the occasional bunny in the brush caused a stir, but the only other sound I could hear was my own gentle noise. For a mom with two babies, it felt like I had died and gone to heaven.
I headed in after a short break (let's face it, it was getting pretty chilly and spooky out there in the dark). The house was a warm-your-face kind of warm from the wood stove. The air in the cabin was dry, and smelled like warm logs. I tucked into some comfy jammies and headed to our loft bedroom. Beans was gently snoring in the next room, Little Nugget hunkered down next to the warmth of mommy milk, and I fell asleep to the sound of J stoking the fire and heading up the stairs to snuggle in next to Nugget and me. It WAS Homestead Heaven.
Back to reality this morning. It's time to load up the trucks and get the rest of our belongings over to the new house. I'll admit, it looks a little like a bad episode of The Beverly Hillbillies right now, but the cabin should start coming together in a day or so. Meanwhile, I'm gonna keep heading outside for sips of snowy air and QUIET, and keep daydreaming about those chickens.
Pictures coming soon, y'all. I promise. It's just gonna take a while to find all our belongings, including the USB cable for the camera.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
We finally got the keys to the house, and Little Farm on the Tundra is slowly setting up shop. I would much rather skip to the fun stuff (chicken coops and greenhouses) than the current task (trying to figure out how to fit 1500 sq ft of belongings into 860 sq ft of space), but the reality is we need to get our stuff in the house, and soon. The skies are threatening to snow, and a light dusting of the white stuff has already made the roads a little slick.
The first day in the new homestead was a lot of sitting around and waiting. We were lucky enough to find someone willing to install our new Princess Ultra Blaze King wood stove the same day (and didn't overcharge us, either). And while it went quickly for stove installations, it did take some time. It was worth it though. After a little bit of playing around with the controls, we managed to get a good burn and were able to damper things down to keep the house at a comfy 70-ish degrees. The fire lasted through the night. No one froze or even woke up too hot or too cold. There were still even a few coals in the bottom this morning, and a few pieces of wood this morning started the heat cycle again.
The first night was pure bliss. Even in a place as small as Fort Greely, you can forget what QUIET sounds like. After babies were snoozing, I ducked out to take a peek at our surroundings. With no porch lights and trees between us and all our neighbors, it was dark enough to not even be able to see J's truck, which wasn't parked but 10 feet from me. The QUIET startled me at first. It took a moment to realize that the rustling I heard was my own two feet, and the exhalations weren't from animals lurking in the dark, but my own steady breathing. An nearby dog barked once or twice, and the occasional bunny in the brush caused a stir, but the only other sound I could hear was my own gentle noise. For a mom with two babies, it felt like I had died and gone to heaven.
I headed in after a short break (let's face it, it was getting pretty chilly and spooky out there in the dark). The house was a warm-your-face kind of warm from the wood stove. The air in the cabin was dry, and smelled like warm logs. I tucked into some comfy jammies and headed to our loft bedroom. Beans was gently snoring in the next room, Little Nugget hunkered down next to the warmth of mommy milk, and I fell asleep to the sound of J stoking the fire and heading up the stairs to snuggle in next to Nugget and me. It WAS Homestead Heaven.
Back to reality this morning. It's time to load up the trucks and get the rest of our belongings over to the new house. I'll admit, it looks a little like a bad episode of The Beverly Hillbillies right now, but the cabin should start coming together in a day or so. Meanwhile, I'm gonna keep heading outside for sips of snowy air and QUIET, and keep daydreaming about those chickens.
Pictures coming soon, y'all. I promise. It's just gonna take a while to find all our belongings, including the USB cable for the camera.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Little Farm on The Tundra
It's nearly official! Little Farm on The Tundra is about to be reality, folks.
J, Beans, Little Nugget, and I met in the real estate agents office today and closed on our Arctic Homestead.
I say it's "nearly official" because the paperwork still has to go to the title company to be recorded. Apparently, when you live in such a remote location, these things do not happen as instantly as they do in big cities. While this normally only takes an additional two business day, Monday happens to be "Alaska Day" (whatever that is?), and the recording office will be closed. Our homestead ownership will be official on Tuesday. Meanwhile, the former owner will have packed his bags (and boxes) and give us the keys Sunday, and we will waste no time getting moved in.
So, the details...
It's a SMALL homestead. The appraisal officially marked it as 864 sq ft. (Told ya. It's small!) It's a new (2007) construction log home that reminds me a lot of Lincoln Log structures I built as a child on my mom's living room rugs.
For those of you familiar with the TV version of "Little House on The Prairie", it looks much like the Ingalls' home on the inside. The door opens into the kitchen and dining space, with a cozy wood stove tucked in the corner.
J has promised to switched out the barrel stove for my dream wood stove, a fancy little number from the Vermont Wood Stove Company that has a separate baking oven in the bottom and a cook top on top, surrounded in warmth maintaining and radiating soapstone. The cost of that little stove (and the shipping) will likely count for my next five years worth of Christmas presents, but I won't mind when the smell of wood stove baked bread wafts through the house, or when I don't have to pay the power company to set a pot roast on for dinner.
The tour continues with a single bathroom (with full sized washer and dryer tucked in), and a downstairs bedroom that we plan on converting into our family room/den. A small built in desk sits strategically under the loft stairs. The stairs climb to a loft that we plan on converting to the grown-up bedroom, and the adjoining master bedroom will become the toddler haven and sleeping quarters. That's it for the inside. (Pictures will come, eventually, so y'all can see the homestead.)
The fun part is outdoors. A separate well house will double as some storage space, and two attached carports (one on either side of the house) are set to house vehicles and a freezer. The house is nestled on a cozy 2.5 acres which is begging for a roost of chickens, a garden, a greenhouse, a handful of meat rabbits, and maybe even a milk goat and yarn sheep (eventually). J would also say that the place is begging for an oversize two stall garage, but I'm getting my chicken coop first. (Fair enough, since the coop will cost about 25 times less to build!) The girls will have their own little area cleared for the playground of their wildest dreams (not hard when all they really want is a swing and a slide), and there is already a good half acre cleared that just needs tilling and planting for next year's harvest.
The acreage is covered in wild high and lowbush cranberries, and plenty of other wild plants to identify and explore. We've seen moose prints, lynx prints, and the previous owner claims to have discovered bear scat on occasion. I'll believe the lynx and the moose. I'd better not ever see a bear. On one of my many drive-by stalkings of my new house, I crossed paths with a handful of ruffed grouse, and there are more bunny tracks than you can count. We might not be able to completely live off our little parcel of land, but we wouldn't have many excuses for starving to death either.
The wooded lot is speckled with birch, spruce, cottonwood, and aspens, and these trees do a good job of hiding the house from plain view. The ones we clear will do a fine job of proving heat in our upcoming winters (after they dry out, of course), and the ones that remain will keep our homestead sheltered from the Delta winds.
I'm excited to know that this winter, instead of dreaming, I will actually be sitting in a rocker by my wood fire stove, knitting and crocheting to heart's content, and spending the darkest days of winter poring over seed catalogs that I will actually order from, instead of living vicariously through my lucky friends who are already hobby farming.
That's the news for today, my friends! We are off to have a very busy week ending and week beginning... packing up the old house, seriously downsizing, and moving into our Little Farm on the Tundra. The next news y'all hear from Moose Nuggets, we'll officially be homesteaders.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
J, Beans, Little Nugget, and I met in the real estate agents office today and closed on our Arctic Homestead.
I say it's "nearly official" because the paperwork still has to go to the title company to be recorded. Apparently, when you live in such a remote location, these things do not happen as instantly as they do in big cities. While this normally only takes an additional two business day, Monday happens to be "Alaska Day" (whatever that is?), and the recording office will be closed. Our homestead ownership will be official on Tuesday. Meanwhile, the former owner will have packed his bags (and boxes) and give us the keys Sunday, and we will waste no time getting moved in.
So, the details...
It's a SMALL homestead. The appraisal officially marked it as 864 sq ft. (Told ya. It's small!) It's a new (2007) construction log home that reminds me a lot of Lincoln Log structures I built as a child on my mom's living room rugs.
For those of you familiar with the TV version of "Little House on The Prairie", it looks much like the Ingalls' home on the inside. The door opens into the kitchen and dining space, with a cozy wood stove tucked in the corner.
J has promised to switched out the barrel stove for my dream wood stove, a fancy little number from the Vermont Wood Stove Company that has a separate baking oven in the bottom and a cook top on top, surrounded in warmth maintaining and radiating soapstone. The cost of that little stove (and the shipping) will likely count for my next five years worth of Christmas presents, but I won't mind when the smell of wood stove baked bread wafts through the house, or when I don't have to pay the power company to set a pot roast on for dinner.
The tour continues with a single bathroom (with full sized washer and dryer tucked in), and a downstairs bedroom that we plan on converting into our family room/den. A small built in desk sits strategically under the loft stairs. The stairs climb to a loft that we plan on converting to the grown-up bedroom, and the adjoining master bedroom will become the toddler haven and sleeping quarters. That's it for the inside. (Pictures will come, eventually, so y'all can see the homestead.)
The fun part is outdoors. A separate well house will double as some storage space, and two attached carports (one on either side of the house) are set to house vehicles and a freezer. The house is nestled on a cozy 2.5 acres which is begging for a roost of chickens, a garden, a greenhouse, a handful of meat rabbits, and maybe even a milk goat and yarn sheep (eventually). J would also say that the place is begging for an oversize two stall garage, but I'm getting my chicken coop first. (Fair enough, since the coop will cost about 25 times less to build!) The girls will have their own little area cleared for the playground of their wildest dreams (not hard when all they really want is a swing and a slide), and there is already a good half acre cleared that just needs tilling and planting for next year's harvest.
The acreage is covered in wild high and lowbush cranberries, and plenty of other wild plants to identify and explore. We've seen moose prints, lynx prints, and the previous owner claims to have discovered bear scat on occasion. I'll believe the lynx and the moose. I'd better not ever see a bear. On one of my many drive-by stalkings of my new house, I crossed paths with a handful of ruffed grouse, and there are more bunny tracks than you can count. We might not be able to completely live off our little parcel of land, but we wouldn't have many excuses for starving to death either.
The wooded lot is speckled with birch, spruce, cottonwood, and aspens, and these trees do a good job of hiding the house from plain view. The ones we clear will do a fine job of proving heat in our upcoming winters (after they dry out, of course), and the ones that remain will keep our homestead sheltered from the Delta winds.
I'm excited to know that this winter, instead of dreaming, I will actually be sitting in a rocker by my wood fire stove, knitting and crocheting to heart's content, and spending the darkest days of winter poring over seed catalogs that I will actually order from, instead of living vicariously through my lucky friends who are already hobby farming.
That's the news for today, my friends! We are off to have a very busy week ending and week beginning... packing up the old house, seriously downsizing, and moving into our Little Farm on the Tundra. The next news y'all hear from Moose Nuggets, we'll officially be homesteaders.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
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