I'll post farm news later, but thought I would put this up before I forget.
You can successfully make any substitutions you need to, just add you liquids last so you get good consistency.
Total of 2 cups gluten free flour.
I used:
3/4 C quinoa flour
3/4 C brown rice flour
1/4 C corn meal
1/4 C tapioca flour (if you sub this, make it something that helps bond ingredients, like arrowroot flour or potato flour)
2/3 C sugar
1 TBL baking powder (not a typo!)
1 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp xanthan gum (do not substitute! This Does the job of gluten without the severe stomach pain for those who can't have it!)
1/4 tsp salt
nutmeg and cinnamon to taste
3/4 C almond milk (don't panic! You can sub in any safe "milk". The almond milk was my own sub for regular milk!)
1/2 C canola oil (or other, if you are fresh out of canola)
2 eggs (don't panic! Any egg replacer will work. Also, you can soak flax seed in water overnight, then use about 1/4-1/2 cup of that gooey mix to replace the egg. You'll also have the benefit
of adding serious nutrition to your muffins)
1 tsp vanilla extract
Blueberries. Fresh, frozen, canned (drain if you go
this route), wild, domesticated, whatever. As many as you like in your muffins.
***
preheat oven to 375•
Important: DO use separate bowls to mix wet and dry. I know, I hate the extra dish to wash too, but with gluten free flours that don't absorb as well as wheat, you'll need to mix at the last moment or it will be clumpy lumpy. Who wants that?
Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl. Mix wet ingredients separately, then add the wet to the dry. It's going to be thick! If it seems too thick, add more milk substitute. I added liquid until
it was a bit thicker than cake batter, but not as thick
as cookie dough. (hope that's not too confusing!)
Add berries, stir to coat evenly. Spoon into muffin tray. I DO use liners! (Because who wants to wash out a muffin tin? Not me!)
Bake 18-25 minutes, or until toothpick inserted comes
out clean.
Brew a pot of percolated coffee. Have a muffin and contemplate your day. Try not to eat the whole pan in one sitting. You should save some for lunch.
These muffins are best enjoyed with a toddler who says, "Momma, deez muppins are da awesome-est ever!"
awww... I think I wanna make more muffins now!
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
And Now, Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Program
Ahhh...
So it took me a few hours, but I got over yesterday's post.
Many thanks to the Lind and supportive commentary from those of y'all that offered it.
And many thanks to my oldest son. I called him this morning to give him a heads-up. He reads his mom's blog with about the same consistency that most teenagers complete their homework, but I didn't want him blindsighted, either.
For the record, he is MAD. He found it unbelievable that someone would dare make assumptions about his family or his feelings.
In his words, "Yeah, I'm totally cool with what you wrote though, mom." Then he gave me a stern lecture about really needing to know how the Internet works, and how some people ON PURPOSE find blogs to disagree with and start cyber-fights.
"Seriously?" I asked him.
"Um, yeah, mom. Some people just don't have anything better to do with their time."
I suddenly felt a little better about having kids that "waste time" playing video games. At least they aren't picking cyber fights.
So ANYHOO....
Back to farming.
I meant what I said last night.
Farming doesn't hurt as bad.
I was feeling a bit deflated last night as I tucked the girls in and sent the chickens to the coop. And lonely. J is off hunting again. (No luck on last week's moose hunt, and this week was the subsistence caribou opener.) I generally don't mind the hunting trips (can't complain about free, organic, free range food, really). But feeling small and lonely stinks.
I'll admit, I stuck around in the chicken coop looking for a little company. At least until the fumes got to me.
I watched an Alaskan late summer version of a sunset. By sunset, I mean I watched the sky look a little like rain was coming. I scanned the garden for signs of life or food. I looked at the temperate gauge and realized that the chill in the air wasn't just hurt feelings- fall is in the air.
I took a deep breath of crisp, cool air. I saw the sun poking through the tree line in that way that confuses you for a moment as to wether it's sunrise or sunset. I zipped my jacket and headed back to the house, kicking loose rocks down the driveway as I went.
The warmth of the house hit me as I walked in. I'd been canning all day and the house still had a good steam built up. 7 pints of blueberry syrup, one pint canned blueberries, 2 pints of raspberry-rhubarb jam, and a half-pint of fresh blueberries sparkled like jewels on the kitchen table. I set the fresh berries in the fridge, contemplated a cup of coffee and some knitting, then accepted defeat and headed to be instead.
***
Morning found me in better spirits. Apologies at once to those of you suffering from heat waves in the lower 48, but I woke in a chilly house at 6 am to girls bouncing on the bed demanding breakfast. A quick check of the thermometer outside confirmed it. It was only 48 degrees outside.
I grinned in spite of myself. I always get a kick out of Autumn. Anything that even remotely feels like Autumn gets me feeling pretty zippy. I handed the kids bananas and prayed they wouldn't kill eachother as I threw on some day-old jeans (the best kind!) and a sweatshirt before ducking out into the morning air.
Oh! Fall! It felt like it. It smelled like it. The air even tasted like it. I grinned at the sun peeking through the tree line in that way that confuses you as to whether it's sunrise or sunset. I dialed my son's number as I fed and watered birds.
I made gluten-free, dairy-free blueberry muffins that didn't suck. (anyone interested in the recipe, post in the comments. It's easy and hot skippy! They were good!)
The aroma of hot coffee and blueberry muffins mingled in the air. I surveyed the day's work and after downing a few muffins, got to business.
A mid-morning break and I called my mom to chat. We aren't "every dayers" or even "once a weekers", but it sure was nice to hear a voice from home.
I wondered how hunting was going.
I read stories to the girls.
At nap time, I lingered in the chicken coop, trying to see if any of our new hens are acting like they might want to lay. This is the time of chicken season where you want to start seeing results. It coincides with the time they start eating about 40 lbs of organic feed a week.
The chickens are now 17 weeks old. We should be getting eggs any day now.
The rest of the day passes uneventfully.
I am relieved.
The girls get tucked into bed.
I wander outside to the homemade bench we have by the chicken coop to watch what J calls, "The Chick Channel" (haha).
I watch birds establishing peck order. I watch then do the same things they do every night- peck ground and preen feathers. I watch another late summer Alaskan sunset, and linger for a few minutes even as it starts to rain.
Tonight, I no longer accept defeat.
I brew a cup of coffee.
I listen to rain hit the metal roof.
I knit.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
So it took me a few hours, but I got over yesterday's post.
Many thanks to the Lind and supportive commentary from those of y'all that offered it.
And many thanks to my oldest son. I called him this morning to give him a heads-up. He reads his mom's blog with about the same consistency that most teenagers complete their homework, but I didn't want him blindsighted, either.
For the record, he is MAD. He found it unbelievable that someone would dare make assumptions about his family or his feelings.
In his words, "Yeah, I'm totally cool with what you wrote though, mom." Then he gave me a stern lecture about really needing to know how the Internet works, and how some people ON PURPOSE find blogs to disagree with and start cyber-fights.
"Seriously?" I asked him.
"Um, yeah, mom. Some people just don't have anything better to do with their time."
I suddenly felt a little better about having kids that "waste time" playing video games. At least they aren't picking cyber fights.
So ANYHOO....
Back to farming.
I meant what I said last night.
Farming doesn't hurt as bad.
I was feeling a bit deflated last night as I tucked the girls in and sent the chickens to the coop. And lonely. J is off hunting again. (No luck on last week's moose hunt, and this week was the subsistence caribou opener.) I generally don't mind the hunting trips (can't complain about free, organic, free range food, really). But feeling small and lonely stinks.
I'll admit, I stuck around in the chicken coop looking for a little company. At least until the fumes got to me.
I watched an Alaskan late summer version of a sunset. By sunset, I mean I watched the sky look a little like rain was coming. I scanned the garden for signs of life or food. I looked at the temperate gauge and realized that the chill in the air wasn't just hurt feelings- fall is in the air.
I took a deep breath of crisp, cool air. I saw the sun poking through the tree line in that way that confuses you for a moment as to wether it's sunrise or sunset. I zipped my jacket and headed back to the house, kicking loose rocks down the driveway as I went.
The warmth of the house hit me as I walked in. I'd been canning all day and the house still had a good steam built up. 7 pints of blueberry syrup, one pint canned blueberries, 2 pints of raspberry-rhubarb jam, and a half-pint of fresh blueberries sparkled like jewels on the kitchen table. I set the fresh berries in the fridge, contemplated a cup of coffee and some knitting, then accepted defeat and headed to be instead.
***
Morning found me in better spirits. Apologies at once to those of you suffering from heat waves in the lower 48, but I woke in a chilly house at 6 am to girls bouncing on the bed demanding breakfast. A quick check of the thermometer outside confirmed it. It was only 48 degrees outside.
I grinned in spite of myself. I always get a kick out of Autumn. Anything that even remotely feels like Autumn gets me feeling pretty zippy. I handed the kids bananas and prayed they wouldn't kill eachother as I threw on some day-old jeans (the best kind!) and a sweatshirt before ducking out into the morning air.
Oh! Fall! It felt like it. It smelled like it. The air even tasted like it. I grinned at the sun peeking through the tree line in that way that confuses you as to whether it's sunrise or sunset. I dialed my son's number as I fed and watered birds.
I made gluten-free, dairy-free blueberry muffins that didn't suck. (anyone interested in the recipe, post in the comments. It's easy and hot skippy! They were good!)
The aroma of hot coffee and blueberry muffins mingled in the air. I surveyed the day's work and after downing a few muffins, got to business.
A mid-morning break and I called my mom to chat. We aren't "every dayers" or even "once a weekers", but it sure was nice to hear a voice from home.
I wondered how hunting was going.
I read stories to the girls.
At nap time, I lingered in the chicken coop, trying to see if any of our new hens are acting like they might want to lay. This is the time of chicken season where you want to start seeing results. It coincides with the time they start eating about 40 lbs of organic feed a week.
The chickens are now 17 weeks old. We should be getting eggs any day now.
The rest of the day passes uneventfully.
I am relieved.
The girls get tucked into bed.
I wander outside to the homemade bench we have by the chicken coop to watch what J calls, "The Chick Channel" (haha).
I watch birds establishing peck order. I watch then do the same things they do every night- peck ground and preen feathers. I watch another late summer Alaskan sunset, and linger for a few minutes even as it starts to rain.
Tonight, I no longer accept defeat.
I brew a cup of coffee.
I listen to rain hit the metal roof.
I knit.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Truth Be Told
So... Anyone who reads the comments on this blog is probably wondering a lot of things. So let me just publicly reply to my latest critic, "Karen", who I can honestly say I have no f-ing clue who she is, but has decided to throw down the gauntlet.
Well...
To answer some questions:
I am "Ms" (Mrs, actually) Nicole.
And to answer your questions and assumed accusations about my other children (two sons):
- you are absolutely right. I had zero moral character twelve YEARS ago when their dad and I divorced. I was an alcoholic, borderline drug addict, selfish, self-serving horrible excuse of a mother and human being. My self-serving attitudes coupled with addictions led meticulous a place in life of absolute debasement and worthless life decisions one after another.
Go ahead.
Judge.
-Yes. I LEFT my boys. I willingly left them with their father and loving, doting grandparents who have spent the last 12 years providing them a stable, NORMAL life, even a tad induldged, by my standards. A life I certainly would not have been able to provide for them for quite some time after the divorce from their dad.
Go ahead.
Judge.
I still stand by that decision. My boys have had a life full of love and normalcy that a mother who really needed to get her act together could not have provided.
- No. I have not seen my boys since I moved to Alaska. This seems to be by mutual
agreement. My younger son has informed me that he considers me his "birth mom" and his stepmom his "real
mom". My older son seems to have the same sentiment, though he is less outspoken about things like that. Regardless of how he feels about that, we maintain contact and keep in touch.
Go ahead.
Judge.
All the family members involved seem to be on the same page. All of these decisions have been discussed among all the parents involved.
We all knew a long time ago there would be aftermath in everyone's lives.
All of us (boys included) think that it would be more difficult and more detrimental to everyone's sense of normal and comfort fo me to barge back into their lives and assume the role of "mom", regardless of how well I've cleaned up over the last twelve years.
Many times I have been judged as being unfeeling or uncaring about what I left behind.
I am not unfeeling or uncaring.
I just know I did a lot of damage in the past.
Sometimes, the best way to "make ammends" is to apologize and then keep the hell away. Especially if that is what those that were hurt want you to do.
I don't even begin to pretend or think that I am a perfect mom these days. It took me nearly a decade to feel like I was worthy enough to pursue a happy marriage or any more children. I am
more keenly aware than anyone how I don't DESERVE a bit of my current life or happiness, but truly for the Grace of God, and accepting that Jesus died for really shitty moms and addicts- GOD has redeemed me and seen fit to give me such a wonderful life.
That's really good, because before I accepted that forgiveness, I almost nearly ended my own life because of the guilt that I was carrying around. It's a horrible feeling, being disgusted with yourself.
When I talk about my current life, express my opinions, or otherwise share on this blog, it IS from my new life.
"If any man (or woman) be in Christ, he is a new creature. Old things are passed away, behold all things are become new."
Thank God.
Thank God.
I do like the "new creature" I am better than the old thing I passed myself off for before.
So, Karen- if you are still reading my blog (in spite of your threat to leave) I hope that clarifies a bit. I hope throwing down the gauntlet achieved what you wanted. Think what you want to. Stop reading if you want to. Don't buy my crummy memoirs when I get around to writing them. I don't give a shit.
Family and friends- sorry this exposes so much personal stuff. Boys, you especially- I hope that the judgent other people pass on our family dynamics don't stick in your spirits. I've said "I'm sorry" a million times to both of you. I love you in that "birth mom" kind of way, and I am so glad that in spite of my decisions, you still let me peek in on your lives from time to time, and that you still treat me with more respect than I deserve from you. I am so grateful to your "real" mom and dad and grandparents for doing what I couldn't.
I only hope to do better by your sisters.
So.. All readers, sorry to mind vomit on this. Many of you have asked questions over the years. I hope you can see why I never really brought it up.
Also sorry for the swearing. I hate to hear yucky words, but in this instance, I just couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say.
If you are a local reader, please respect my privacy and my personal heartache that I have carried for years- don't ask me about it. My past, this post, this chapter in my life.
Now if y'all don't mind, I'd like to get back to just blogging about the much simpler life I am currently carving out for myself. Farming sure as fuck doesn't hurt as bad.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Now if y'all don't
I don't like to get preachy, but you know what? Thank GOD for forgiveness. Mine. An anyone else who calls on Him
and asks for it. It is His free gift for the taking.
Well...
To answer some questions:
I am "Ms" (Mrs, actually) Nicole.
And to answer your questions and assumed accusations about my other children (two sons):
- you are absolutely right. I had zero moral character twelve YEARS ago when their dad and I divorced. I was an alcoholic, borderline drug addict, selfish, self-serving horrible excuse of a mother and human being. My self-serving attitudes coupled with addictions led meticulous a place in life of absolute debasement and worthless life decisions one after another.
Go ahead.
Judge.
-Yes. I LEFT my boys. I willingly left them with their father and loving, doting grandparents who have spent the last 12 years providing them a stable, NORMAL life, even a tad induldged, by my standards. A life I certainly would not have been able to provide for them for quite some time after the divorce from their dad.
Go ahead.
Judge.
I still stand by that decision. My boys have had a life full of love and normalcy that a mother who really needed to get her act together could not have provided.
- No. I have not seen my boys since I moved to Alaska. This seems to be by mutual
agreement. My younger son has informed me that he considers me his "birth mom" and his stepmom his "real
mom". My older son seems to have the same sentiment, though he is less outspoken about things like that. Regardless of how he feels about that, we maintain contact and keep in touch.
Go ahead.
Judge.
All the family members involved seem to be on the same page. All of these decisions have been discussed among all the parents involved.
We all knew a long time ago there would be aftermath in everyone's lives.
All of us (boys included) think that it would be more difficult and more detrimental to everyone's sense of normal and comfort fo me to barge back into their lives and assume the role of "mom", regardless of how well I've cleaned up over the last twelve years.
Many times I have been judged as being unfeeling or uncaring about what I left behind.
I am not unfeeling or uncaring.
I just know I did a lot of damage in the past.
Sometimes, the best way to "make ammends" is to apologize and then keep the hell away. Especially if that is what those that were hurt want you to do.
I don't even begin to pretend or think that I am a perfect mom these days. It took me nearly a decade to feel like I was worthy enough to pursue a happy marriage or any more children. I am
more keenly aware than anyone how I don't DESERVE a bit of my current life or happiness, but truly for the Grace of God, and accepting that Jesus died for really shitty moms and addicts- GOD has redeemed me and seen fit to give me such a wonderful life.
That's really good, because before I accepted that forgiveness, I almost nearly ended my own life because of the guilt that I was carrying around. It's a horrible feeling, being disgusted with yourself.
When I talk about my current life, express my opinions, or otherwise share on this blog, it IS from my new life.
"If any man (or woman) be in Christ, he is a new creature. Old things are passed away, behold all things are become new."
Thank God.
Thank God.
I do like the "new creature" I am better than the old thing I passed myself off for before.
So, Karen- if you are still reading my blog (in spite of your threat to leave) I hope that clarifies a bit. I hope throwing down the gauntlet achieved what you wanted. Think what you want to. Stop reading if you want to. Don't buy my crummy memoirs when I get around to writing them. I don't give a shit.
Family and friends- sorry this exposes so much personal stuff. Boys, you especially- I hope that the judgent other people pass on our family dynamics don't stick in your spirits. I've said "I'm sorry" a million times to both of you. I love you in that "birth mom" kind of way, and I am so glad that in spite of my decisions, you still let me peek in on your lives from time to time, and that you still treat me with more respect than I deserve from you. I am so grateful to your "real" mom and dad and grandparents for doing what I couldn't.
I only hope to do better by your sisters.
So.. All readers, sorry to mind vomit on this. Many of you have asked questions over the years. I hope you can see why I never really brought it up.
Also sorry for the swearing. I hate to hear yucky words, but in this instance, I just couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say.
If you are a local reader, please respect my privacy and my personal heartache that I have carried for years- don't ask me about it. My past, this post, this chapter in my life.
Now if y'all don't mind, I'd like to get back to just blogging about the much simpler life I am currently carving out for myself. Farming sure as fuck doesn't hurt as bad.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Now if y'all don't
I don't like to get preachy, but you know what? Thank GOD for forgiveness. Mine. An anyone else who calls on Him
and asks for it. It is His free gift for the taking.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Favorite Part
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
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
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
