Season journal: leaves!!!

The Japanese honeysuckle won the first leaf contest on April 11th. This invasive bush lives on the edges of woods, producing abundant flowers and berries. It competes with the prickly ash for this ecological niche.

The box elders tied the poplar for first trees leafing, which happened yesterday, April 27th.

The Nanny Berries, a type of viburnum, finally showed their leaves as well. They will have big panicles of flowers that turn into clusters of dark berries in the fall. They remind me of dates in flavor and texture. They were Michael’s grandmother’s favorites.

The tree pictured below appears to be leafing out. It is a maple in full blossom!

I saw my first bloodroot, violets, pussytoes and sedge blossoms on April 25th. I’m probably missing the hepatica, which bloom in the deep woods. It has been raining and my knees are not yet stable enough for slippery hillsides.

I am enjoying the flowers I over-crowded last fall. They will never disguise our old LP tank, but they do increase my joy looking in that direction.

All the sprouts give me joy too. The 6 year old travels too fast to capture. The two years olds also demand more attention. The 6 week old has to be held while she is still a peanut. She started cooing today. They grow so quickly. We do not want to encase them in amber, but only to soak in their wonder at this world while we may.

Celebration journal: Earth Day meets Passover

The mosses bloom and oaks shed their leaves.

Chives will be our first harvest. We long for the greens our land will gift us.

Michael planted 900 onion sets today. He planted potatoes by April 15th as the soil complied by not being frozen. We will have frost tonight, but the earth will retain its heat.

The tomatoes I planted a week ago sprouted overnight. The peppers and eggplant have yet to show signs of life. My leeks need sunlight!

No matzo, but a different type of unleavened bread: corn tortillas. No lamb, but a different cloven hooved animal: venison. No bitter herbs, only spinach. Green and red chile from New Mexico, the land of my ancestors. It is a good day to remember how they abandoned the places of their births and slaved to make life better for their children. Salt to recall sweat, if not tears. So much to be thankful for. So much to celebrate.

Growing things journal: caring for Grands

Every now and then we are called upon to care for various and sundry Grands. We love various and sundry Grands! We live to spend time with these growing people.

Their parents went off for a long weekend to celebrate a birthday with friends far away. I’m sympathetic because the friends are of long standing and have traveled far…accomplishing fabulous things. It is so good to keep contact with such amazing people. And we have been wanting to have a sleepover with the tiny people.

The Tiny Grand and I went and did those things that Michael got to do with our girls as they were growing up. I missed out on some things with my own children. It is good (if physically challenging) to be lifting 30 pounds up repeatedly to see over fences to peer at zebras and tigers and gorillas.

Back home again and all Grands together for a day. What to do but read books! And feed them good food.

All our ducks in a row.

In with ducks and cherries and chickens. Rawr! How to exert primacy as one finds one’s way in the world.

Eating pineapple gifted from Chiapas.

Braving storm clouds bringing snow flurries instead of sunshine.

Finding flowers after the storms.

We hope to foster familiarity with the foreign, so that these tiny people can be at home wherever they may go.

Season journal: springtime weather and life quickens

Our first four ducklings hatched yesterday. Felix gently welcomed this first, who arrived in time for a visit. More on their way! We check the incubator every couple of hours, so tiny feet don’t get trapped in the egg turning mechanism. Made for a poor night’s sleep, but that is the nature of babies.

We got to see Moogie’s eyes! She is an amazingly chill child.

Felix and Zeke basked in the sun.

My crocus are blooming! They began flowering on on March 23rd, but then a foot of snow fell on the 26th. Unfrozen soil allowed my flowers to survive!

The ducks loved the snow. The chickens, not so much.

Enough cool weather for Moogie to make use of her tiny hat.

We celebrated Easter early in Minneapolis…

…and then spent a quiet Sunday together.

I’m taking my time taping and mudding, if only because my knees don’t allow much floor work or time on a ladder.

Today I listen to rainy day music as the ducks revel in the wet.

A good day for asparagus soup (not local asparagus, alas) and red corn bread.

We baked our last winter squash today: sweeter than the kisses of Esmeralda. I made broth from the last of my soup bones today as well. We spend down our stores, reveling in the fruit of our labor and making way for the coming year’s bounty.

The heartbeat of the land quickens with increased sunshine. The vultures and robins returned before the snow. Sand Hill Cranes creak their love songs and the Great Blue Herons have begun nesting. Black birds and grackles return in clouds of racket. Red birds blaze in the tree tops. Eagles and hawks glide by, eying our chickens and ducks. Turkeys strut and fan. Poplar, cedar, maple and birch flower out, wanting to leaf any moment. The waiting is agony and joy wrapped together. So much death. So much life. This is springtime in Wisconsin.

Grand journal: toeses!

Imogen Alice Luz made her appearance on St. Paddy’s day.

I showed up on Felix’s doorstep early that morning so mama and daddy could sneak off and get baby sister. We didn’t know how long that would take, so we took a walk and found a donut as big as Felix’s head. It was spitting snow on us during our walk.

Imogen looks just like her mama. She came via C section, so I brought Felix to our home.

Felix played with ducks…

Taste-tested the deer tallow soap…

Made friends with Zeke…

Slept well and then helped Booma make pancakes…

Went and met Baby Sister…

Came back and helped Boopa haul wood…

Ran amok in monster dish gloves…

Took our measure after another great night sleeping…

Waited patiently for mama and sister to arrive…

And was overjoyed to have everyone back home!

Nate ran errands and read to Felix when he got home. It’s been a number of long days for everyone. Good job bringing these precious toes into the household!

Season journal: experimental planting

I broke down and planted some seeds today. The packets all say I’m terribly early, but just like Irene’s clock, I’m all wound up. The cardinals sing love songs and the redwings trill: It’s time! It’s time!

Someone gifted us 30 count egg flats. I heard egg cartons with potting soil can substitute for peat pots. We will see if this works.

Michael rigged me a place to start seeds. The leeks and flowers should be up and moving to the next level when it comes to start tomatoes and peppers. Thank you Super El Niño for early spring.

Michael started incubating eggs March 11th.

The flower bulbs are beginning to show.

The Pussywillows burst forth today.

Warm afternoons allow us to finish cracking walnuts gathered two years ago.

Gratuitous photos of the Grands from this past weekend…just because I can.

Season journal: early signs of spring

March 1st and I really want to start seeds…but I haven’t yet.

At first glance, our road does not look very spring-like.

But the kapok falls off the cattails.

The buds swell on the poplars.

The river opens and welcomes rafts of geese, ducks and swans.

The frogs explode from the mud, leaving tiny craters.

Michael makes hot crossed buns, which we share with neighbors and friends.

The Grands say “cheers” to longer days and time to play.

Ephemera journal: ashes

Michael and I celebrate 39 years together, 37 married. We are stardust. We are golden. And we have to make it back to our garden.

These are the rootlings that anchor us in time and space.

We create space.

The rootlings engage in activities beyond our time. (Was I ever able to do a head stand?!?)

We celebrate the passage of time. (Michael’s new favorite is carrot cake.)

We take advantage of our gift of snow to turn our old ducks, chickens, gizzards and venison hearts into brats and kielbasa. To be eaten, turned into energy and growth, until we fade and become stardust once again.

What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun?

Generations come and generations go, but the earth remains forever.

The sun rises and the sun sets, and hurries back to where it rises.

The wind blows to the south and turns to the north; round and round it goes, ever returning on its course.

All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full.

To the place the streams come from, there they return again.

All things are wearisome, more than one can say.

The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear it’s fill of hearing.

What has been will be again, what has been will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.

Ecclesiastes 1: 3-11

Michael and I shared a love of the wisdom of Ecclesiastes before we met. It is the glue that binds us, makes us fertile soil to support new growth and a return to ashes. We are stardust; there is nothing new under the sun.

Construction journal: sheet rock progress

Despite my lack of any meniscus to repair, I have been helping Michael hang rock.

We moved the bed from the corner niche and Michael took out the door and frame on January 22. Then we took a Grand break.

These are the beds my grandparents bought for my mom and her older brother when she was about 6 years old. That makes them about 85 years old. My mom turned them into bunk beds at some point. The Grands loved the new duck-watching perch.

I picked up the sheet rock after dropping Michael off at the dentist on January 30th. Two yard guys loaded for me…but the gate guy didn’t know that. Ha! I didn’t enlighten him.

We covered the fiberglass up in time to host the Grand Guy and his family yesterday.

My dad would call this face “pucheros.”

He cheered up with a bit of Booma cake in him. Or maybe it was the great chicken soup and fresh rolls Boopa made.

Today we hung rock in the corner and on the other side of the now missing door. We ran out of drywall screws and time. Walls are more than 8 feet tall, so there is a strip at the bottom we need to add. Then I’ll start mudding.

I can tell I haven’t sheet rocked in a while. I totally blew measuring for this first outlet.

All my other outlets turned out well.

I’ll glue pieces of rock around this outlet. First I had to create a backing for that one side. A popsicle stick was just the right width. I drilled holes to give me a way to position and secure it while my glue dried. I cut the string and pulled it through when the stick stuck. Glue. I love glue.

The super El Niño has gifted us a warm and dry winter. I can negotiate steps and outdoor lumpy ground while wearing my knee brace. I can walk short distances without a brace, if I don’t bend my left leg much. Turns out I munched the last bit of meniscus left to me on that side. I’ll start PT later this month to see how much mobility I can regain. If that doesn’t work, I’ll be signing up for a knee replacement. In the meantime, I’m learning how to hobble really well. The upside is: my right side sciatica has disappeared!

Convalescence journal: a time to sew and other delights

Michael does most of the chores these days as I’m still on the walking wounded list. In some ways it’s given me time to begin long-delayed projects. In other ways it just means things take me longer.

These are sashiko samplers made into those things you put under glasses to keep your table tidy. Michael gave me a kit for Christmas as I had been researching ways to repair clothes. “Sashiko” means “tiny stabs”, the basic method of this style of embroidery.

I have a few heavy canvas trousers with various rips and tears. I work around metal siding, fencing, and other hazards. Michael had some trousers made from a grid patterned cotton: perfect for sashiko patches!

In essence you make a series of running stitches, which look like nothing until you start the stitches that complete the pattern.

One of the best parts was having the Grand Girl take an interest and complete one geometric shape before her 6 year old brain wandered off.

In all fairness, there were more interesting things to do, like watching her mama open birthday presents.

Or snitching the crystallized clementines from the top of the cheesecake. I experimented with an angel food cake pan. I think it worked well! (Yes, the cake was delicious: orange zest/smoked cheddar gave it a symphonic flavor.)

On a more prosaic level, Michael wired the light switches. I held the ladder for him as he climbed in and out of the attic.

I also measured and cut the hole for the switch box. I find I can work hard in the mornings, but pooh out by mid-afternoon. I can’t carry anything heavy, so wallboard installation will probably have to wait awhile. I am able to walk a bit without my leg brace. I’m still waiting to hear the results of my MRI. In the meantime, I’m trying to carefully increase my mobility.

I get most of my increased heart rate minutes cooking. This is a photo of the base I use for braising duck legs, which we shared with the Grand Guy and his family today. I used the last of our home grown carrots in this dish. I neglected to record the final product. No Grand Guy photos either. I’ve been just a little more scattered than usual. Alas. Just as well I’m working on something as simple as making running stitches!

Season journal: 12 days of Christmas

Yesterday was 12th night and today is Epiphany. These are religious holy days, but also markers of season and place.

My mother completed her crèche today. Michael and I lit our wreath for the last time and sang of mages seeking a perfect light. Reflecting on the search for light and understanding seems timely in these dark days.

Christmas Day is a big birthday bash in our house. Having two two year olds added a certain element of delightful chaos.

After a while, Petra needed to find a quiet corner. We have those too!

Temperatures in the 50s made finding cool spaces a challenge, but after last year’s snow, was a welcome change.

We spent Boxing Day babysitting Felix.

We all arose before sunrise on the 3rd Day of Christmas: Michael to babysit Felix again and me to care for the livestock.

The 5th Day of Christmas brought us amazing hoarfrost.

Michael hunted on the Sixth Day. We received a small snowfall. No one was stirring. Not even a mouse.

On the 7th Day, we welcomed in the New Year with luminaria.

On the 9th day we moved our 400 lb. gun safe so we can finish our window opening project.

On the 10th Day I repaired this gorgeous necklace my mother sent me, which arrived with a number of the delicate birds in a broken state.

On the 11th Day (January 4th) I was doing my physical therapy exercises for my right leg when my left knee failed me. I later read that stairs (the exercise I was doing) is hard on knees.

We spent the next two days in a variety of doctors offices, which resulted in the not surprising news that I have arthritis in my knee. The pain is due to either an injured meniscus (that cushion behind the kneecap) or LCL (one if the tendons that keeps the knee stable). I have a knee brace that has allowed me to limp around the house. Michael has had to shoulder my chores on top of his own, as well as helping me with socks and other common items that suddenly are beyond my reach. It is good that PT has strengthened my right leg, else I would be even more disabled than I am! It is also good that we have a bunch of medical equipment, such as a walker and a shower chair, left to us by Irene. I have been using the grab bars we installed and have rejoiced in having space to use that walker and shower chair. I didn’t think I would be needing all of this quite so soon. I’m really happy my knee didn’t fail while I was out walking Zeke. I gratefully accept the blessings of the season and look forward to getting back on my feet and bending the knee.

Solstice journal: comfort

I awoke in the dark. I go to sleep in the dark. I smell the potato leek soup and barley bread we had for dinner, with a faint undertone of anise seed cookies. Michael gently snores by my side.

I cherish the brief periods of sun we have. Relative warmth keeps a hint of green in the fields, intensifying the gold of dry alfalfa and timothy.

I completed my second lap quilt yesterday. Our group of quilters will bring them to the assisted living center in town. A lot of laughter is sewn into these blankets.

We completed another two wall openings. Now we put away the tools. Clean. Bake. Make ready our house and hearts for the joy of sharing time and season with friends and family. Good night.

Season journal: La tamalada

In mid-December red chile scents the air. Time for tamales.

Ten pounds of pork roast went into a stock pot with garlic, chile caribe, salt, bay leaves and oregano. Boiled until the meat began to fall off the bones.

The meat then went into a large black iron Dutch oven, shredded, added with ground red chile, comino (cumin), garlic salt and stock until it was a plump mush. Petra gave the filling her blessings. Hojas (dried corn husks) were soaked in hot water until pliable.

Then the hojas are smeared with masa (a corn gruel made with corn flour, corn meal, salt, baking powder, lard and stock from the roast). Lilith did a great job! The meat filling goes on top of the masa and then the whole thing is rolled and folded to make a neat packet.

We stack the tamales on cookie sheets awaiting steaming. It takes about an hour in a steamer to cook.

Unwrapped, covered in more red chile, they are a Christmas tradition, every bit as necessary as gingerbread. These were made with blue corn masa. Yum.

The carrots are from our garden. This has been a very mild winter so far. The cold weather allowed us to use our deck as a freezer up until the 12th, but for the last several days we’ve had overnight temperatures above freezing. Tonight will see 12°.

What this tiny bear has been eating, I don’t know. A neighbor with a trail cam confirmed that the bears were still about as of December 12th.

Rain washed away our snow. The river runs low. It is hard to mourn drought in winter.

My sister Angela sends greetings from places warmer still.

Construction journal: beginning to finish the addition

Construction is all very well and good, but when you are marrying a previously built structure to a new one, transition areas can be tricky.

This used to be the east wall of the original cabin Michael helped Clyde build. It now separates what will become the kitchen and the living room. We want as much air flow between the two areas as possible. So we are taking out most of that old east wall. However, we don’t want to have to put headers in, because supporting that wall while creating headers is really hard. We’ve done that. We are seeking to avoid that headache by leaving the studs in place. Yes. They look terrible now, but I have plans…

The first thing we did was clear the area. Then I drew lines on both walls, using the current window sills as my reference point. Next, we peeled back the plastic that keeps the fiberglass from floating around the house, exposing the old sills and allowing us to figure out how they were attached.

Michael took out the old sills, which were 2x8s set into a 2x6 framed wall. He trimmed them to fit flush with the framing. I cut the wallboard down to my line.

Michael cut 2x4s for blocks to support the new sills and to add strength to them. We have climbing grandchildren. Wouldn’t want them breaking the walls!

Once those were cut, we realized they wouldn’t fit between the new sill and the wiring running through that wall. So I measured and marked where the wires had to be and Michael created notches.

And in go the “new” sills! Not shown is me making sure everything is level. I made the mistake of trying to level the sills between the two openings on my own. One sill turned out to be 1/4” lower than the other. Thankfully, the edging Michael took down was that 1/4”. He took off the sill, cut 5” sections of the finish board and shimmed up the sill.

Now they look even with each other.

While Michael was out putting the table saw and birds away, I took the nails out of the finish boards and cleaned up inside. Lowering the sills on these two former windows took us about 3 1/2 hours. We hope to get faster. The plan is to take out the wallboard between the two old window areas, lower all the sills, and also raise the height of those openings to match the doorway between the two areas. This will require re-routing the wiring for the ceiling fan in the old cabin area as well as the light switch for the new living room. Those switches needed moving so they will be next to the new doorway. This just means Michael will put on his electrician hat, climb up into the attic, and do his electrician magic. Yes. This is the week before Christmas. Yes. We are hosting Christmas. Yes. We are a bit insane. Cheers!

Giving thanks journal: the gifts of the land

6 PM feels late when the sun sets at 4:28 PM. Michael and I are snuggled in by the wood stove with the cat and dog stretched out at our feet as I begin this post. A good time to reflect on why we are all exhausted.

The corollary of early sunsets are late sunrises. The sun peeked over the horizon at about 7:30 AM today. This particular sunrise is from November 19th, and so was about 15 minutes earlier. I hunted the day after opening, but saw no deer at all. I was not alone. Fewer deer have been harvested this year than last.

Sunshine set the wild grass heads aglow. Light becomes precious in November.

November 19th was warm enough to awaken all types of insects. This little lady became mired on a freshly skinned carcass.

“Warm” is a relative term. Our tractor shed kept all our venison quarters quite cool while awaiting processing. I got the hearts, livers, and back strap cleaned, sliced and packaged before Thanksgiving. This was two day’s worth of heavy lifting.

Wednesday the 22nd we cleaned house, dug up carrots and pre-made what we could. We use our deck as a supplemental refrigerator/freezer. Thanksgiving morning the frost danced over the cover of the honey and ginger glazed carrots.

A third of this cabbage served 14 people and then some. Creamed, it was declared delicious.

I recognized this chicken by the way his leg stuck out. I thanked him once again for being a fine bird.

Beets, squash, carrots, stuffing, potatoes, chicken and canned cranberries made a lovely meal. A dear friend sent me the mushroom napkins for a festive touch. Some wild hen of the woods may have snuck into that dressing….

The Grand Girls raided the pickles and olives before dinner.

The best part of having a full house was having a house where family can gather and be together. A friend came over and was mumbling about how his brother had to have the best of everything, meaning the most expensive of everything. I laughed and told him I actually did have the best of everything. He raised the glass of cider we served and generously agreed.

The Friday after Thanksgiving I started processing the quarters of the doe I harvested. The next day I helped my daughter process the back strap and quarters from the deer her husband shot. We got most of the deer turned into venison, packaged and sent home with them.

November 26th brought our first snow since late October.

I stayed inside and ground 31 pounds of bits and pieces into venison burger. Both the deer that my son in law and I shot rendered about 45 pounds of meat each: roasts, stew, medallions, and burger.

Michael shot one last doe on closing day. He sat in the stand my son in law uses. We had cleared brush from that area several days before the season opened. My upper back ached from wielding my 6” electric chain saw (Michael cut bigger trees with the 20” gas powered saw), but our efforts paid off. I finished processing this doe three days ago. It was a bit smaller and resulted in 40 pounds of venison. I’ve been rendering fat for soap ever since. So far I have about 10 pounds of tallow (the fat resulting from rendering). I may have that much more by the time I’m done. Michael would like to harvest two more deer from our land, one to split between our children and one for his brother. I’m thankful for the venison we have and amazed that we still have room in our freezers.

The chickens would be delighted if Michael shot another deer. They are such tiny dinosaurs! Rawr. Squawk. The cleaned bones will go on the pyre we have built on our garden plot. We await New Years (and the final end of the hunting season) to set it ablaze, returning minerals to be used by next year’s crops.

The sun has long since set and now Michael gently snores as I finish this post. Tomorrow we will arise with the sun. Michael will feed and water the birds and I will walk Zeke. We will head into the Cities to deliver St. Nicholas packages to children and friends. Food. Clothing. A gift from this land on which we toil, and which in turn rewards us with gifts from the earth.

Harvest journal: being there

Today hunting-deer-with-guns season opened. Four of us climbed into various stands and we sat quietly, waiting for the sun to rise at 7:13 AM. Hunting becomes legal a half hour before sunrise and lasts to a half hour after sunset. There are sufficient deer in this area so that we all are authorized to take one buck and two does.

I listen for sound in low light. The first to awake were the squirrels, the grays then the reds. The birds arrived at the feeder precisely at dawn. Jays, chickadees, woodpeckers (Red Headed, Downey and Ladder Backs), and nuthatches.

We were not overly confident that we would find any deer, as our field holds few soy beans. Our renter planted his beans after the early rains. Then the June-July drought prevented the seed from sprouting in a timely manner. The weeds outgrew the beans once we did get rain in August. This means there is little on our land to attract deer. We are not alone in this dilemma. The shots fired this morning were few and far between.

Despite our misgivings, my son in law shot a young buck at 9:30 AM.

A large doe walked in from the field, heading toward the tamarack swamp. I heard her before I saw her. She stopped when I moved my rifle.

She died at 10:30 AM. It took me about a half hour to field dress her. “Field dressing” means taking out the viscera, which accounts for about one third of a deer’s weight. Removing the innards not only allows the carcass to cool faster, reducing the chances of spoilage, but also makes the deer easier to haul home.

I helped Michael wrangle her into the trailer. We get to use the lawn tractor! We are due to hit 53° today. It was this warm about 20 years ago, the year I started hunting.

Here’s to you, Miss Doe! Thank you for coming to feed my family this winter. We will appreciate your nourishment of our bodies and our souls.

We are not the only hunters here.

Deer are not the only targets of our attention. I have learned to be aware of patterns, differentiating between the rustle a squirrel makes from a deer’s footfall. The time and habit of an oyster mushroom or a blewit call to me as I bend to pick up ditch trash. I find plants and berries worthy of dinner walking in urban spaces. My friends become used to my bending to pick up random items as we walk along. It is important not only to go to a place, but to be in that place and learn from it. I am forever hunting; I am forever finding fortune

Celebration journal: Bonfire Night and Felix turns 2!!!

Felix, our Grand Guy, turned two in early November. We celebrated this past weekend with glorious weather, all the cousins, and a “two two” train. He appreciated the dinosaurs, but his favorite parts were the Pocky Stick bars on the cages.

Then Sunday was Bonfire Night, and we finally burned the cottonwood stump.

I had to look up when we created that stump. It was on March 14, 2020. It has threatened more than one car bumper in the past three years.

We’ve meant to burn it ever since it dried out. The time finally came!

There’s still a bit of stump left for our burning pleasure.

The time became right because we need access to the right side of that photo (behind that stump) to park our trailer over the winter. Our friend Robert has given us scathes of wood, a bit of which is green. Michael stacked the green logs in the space the trailer used to live. Then Robert came out with his log splitter and the boys cleared the pile of unsplit wood that had accumulated next to the wood bins. Voila! A place to park the trailer…but for that pesky stump. Thank you Robert for providing the motivation!

While Michael fed the fire, I beat back the bushes from the driveway. I love my new 6” electric chainsaw. I’ve been battling those bushes every year, but kept losing because I’m too wimpy to ply shears and Swede saw for as long as needed to keep the brush at bay.

We need to keep our driveway clear this winter as our newest Grand Girl is due to arrive in March. Thank you Persephone and Nate for providing us this most important of motivations!

Season journal: trick or treat

My breakfast views: first white and last reds.

Beautiful snow, but the ice accumulated on warm roads cut short my morning walk.

We made our rounds to the marble forests, sharing bread and wine (cheese curds and beer too) with our dearly departed, who return to us during these days. Michael dreamed Irene walking up the steps to the old part of the house last night. She really didn’t want to die. She was so afraid we would forget her. We try to ally her fears, even in death.

Our scions have made good use of pumpkins. So many would be so pleased with these children who have children. It has been ten years since Clyde died and our slow journey back here began. Walking through the graveyard where Michael and I plan to be planted, near Nonie and Ralph, reminds me how much this is home to Michael. I have no place where I know most of the etched names. I choose to make my home here, and look forward to resting among my adopted clan. I hope to live each day as a good day, so that when my days come to an end, it will not be a trick, but a treat.

Garden journal: late fall wonders

October 27. No snow. Yet.

We sent the Very Large Pumpkins home with grands and gather the last inside. Cold comes. The high of 46° happened at 8 am. Only chillier from here to the foreseeable future.

The squash shall live in the basement, lasting until spring.

I stripped the Northwest Greening this week, saving the few keepers, then patrolled all trees for strays. The apple maggots use fallen apples for part of their life cycle. Once established, they stay until a very hard winter wipes the soil clean of larvae. Better to keep the orchards clean. We do not spray.

Tomatoes, peppers, eggplant. All gone.

I made a green tomato galette, layering tomato slices with thin sliced onions. Grated Parmesan over and under tomatoes. Salt, pepper and paprika. All cuddled in a savory crust. Salad rounded out dinner. Michael loosed the ducks on the last of the lettuce. They will clear that garden for us.

The chicken pullets began laying on October 10th. A pullet is a young laying bird. Their first eggs tend to be small. They are hard to incorporate into recipes, so Michael boiled a batch and we had soup and egg salad for dinner. The soup is a type of borscht I created with the last of the red eggplants. I added onions and garlic and beets and cabbage and a number of different types of peppers and paprika. Oh, and chicken and chicken broth…and a bit of maraschino cherry juice. It just needed a little sweetness. Turned out a lovely red and even lovelier to eat.

Last weekend we visited a dear friend in Western Minnesota. The trees remained spectacular. Color started with maples and is ending with cottonwood, poplar and birch. The oak leaves will hang on until spring. The Glaciers there brought down a different mix of gravel. Our roads in Western Wisconsin are paved with Lake Superior agates. Their roads incorporate Iron Range taconite, which rusts. Thank you, Valerie, for sharing your time and world with us.

These lovelies kept the animals fed while we played hooky. Thank you Artemis and Matt for allowing us a holiday.

We can hardly wait to see this guy again.

Season journal: Wow. Colors.

Every year, the changing of the seasons creates cause for celebration. Spring flowers. Summer abounds. Fall flames. Winter sparkles.

Glory be to God for dappled things –

   For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

      For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;

   Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;

      And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

“Pied Beauty”—Gerard Manley Hopkins

I’d try to say it better, but for lack of words, I borrow liberally.

First frost on October 9th had us gathering the last of our garden bounty and finding ways to eat tomatoes in all their glory: egg sandwiches, Brazilian fish stew (moqueca), fried green with white sauce. The parm substituting green tomatoes for eggplant and making sauce from ripe reds goes without record due to gobbling them unapologetically.

Michael cleaned our new chimney on October 5th, with my help. I climbed onto the roof TWICE, which tells you how much I love that man. My bad knees don’t like stepping off ladders and getting up on slanted surfaces. I admit to uncontrollable shakes during this process. No photos of the magnificent view due to said tremors.

Even so, I can’t believe I get to live in Wisconsin!

Where I stumble across blewits while walking Zeke. They are delicious!

Where we seek out entalomas while the trees exude cloud-forming particles that smell of cracked pepper.

Where we clear faded vines and plant garlic for future savor.

We collaborate on cakes to celebrate the birth of friends.

Where we squirrel away cabbage, beets and pickles for future feasts.

And revel in the long low light in the autumn of our days.