Season journal: mushrooms!

Fall brings cooler nights, ripening corn, and mushrooms!

Michael has been on the lookout for huitlacoche (aka corn smut) in our popcorn patch. He’s found enough on several occasions for us to enjoy soft mushroom tacos. He hates to surrender any of the popcorn to the fungus, but agrees that this is the most delicious variety of huit (pronounced “wheat”) we’ve found.

I fry it up in olive oil with onions, garlic, green chile, and fresh marjoram. Traditionally it’s made with epazote, which is kindred to oregano, but I grow neither. Marjoram I have. It works too.

Yes, this tastes as good as it looks!

We’ve also been finding a few agaricus (those mushrooms you buy in the store) popping up in our lawn. I’ve been sautéing them with garlic to go with the few chicken and duck livers we get when reducing our flocks.

Michael stopped at the end of our driveway yesterday to pick up mail, looked out into the soybean field and said, “Are those mushrooms?” They were!!!

Lots! I used some in a green bean-shrimp stir fry yesterday and more in a mushroom-sausage-vegetable medley (basically, what was in the basket above) today. There’s enough for one more meal. Yum.

Maybe I’ll put them in a pasta sauce next.

Or have them on toast with goat cheese and a side of corn and sliced tomatoes.

The leaves are beginning to turn.

Grasshoppers have been knocking on our door.

The sun begins its long slide into winter.

We introduced the young hens into the established flock, preparing them to live peacefully in close winter quarters.

We stayed up late and were rewarded with seeing the eclipse.

We remembered Bucka on August 29th, the day he passed on from this world 13 years ago.

He loved flowers. Petunias were his favorites. He loved this land. He’d be so interested in the mushrooms. And he’d be happy to eat them, as long as we didn’t tell him about corn smut!

Yardstick journal: 12 year review

My calendar tells me it’s August 27th. Twelve years ago, Michael and I drove a U-Haul up our driveway to come home at last. We had been investing time and attention on this patch of land for 18 years prior to that, starting by commuting from St. Paul, with an 8-year detour to Maine. So I suppose this is the 30 year anniversary of this project. No. We aren’t done yet. Cash flow and other commitments have made finishing the actual house a VERY long-term project.

This is what the house looked like when we arrived 12 years ago.

This is the current view from the same spot. The trees elicit a “my, how you’ve grown” response from us. The house’s footprint doubled. The basement is about 5 times as big. But because we use all of this space, intensely at times, it doesn’t seem as large.

This last photo was taken at a funeral for the last aunt standing from Michael’s family. Bev was always a hoot; she would have appreciated a good wrestling match. In some ways our world grows smaller, as those who nurtured us take their leave.

It is only right that we support our daughters, their husbands, and all those lovely grands. We appreciate their putting up with our foibles.

Like the fact that “making” food for us involves more than cooking. Gardens. Coops. Hunting. Gathering. Our lives governed by the seasons; repeat digging, shoveling, watering, canning, chopping, freezing. We hope to share a love of this place that has absorbed so much of our energy and attention. Or perhaps just love. That most of all. 12 years or 30, we are satisfied, if not sated.

Foraging journal: hazelnut harvest

Two years ago we went out into the sand barrens and found hazelnuts for the first time. They were a lot of work to shell, but tasted so intensely wonderful that we decided to add them to our calendar. Last year there were none to be found. This year is a banner harvest!

As the barrens are, well, barren, much of the area has been set aside as a wildlife refuge. There are dikes built throughout the area that help control water in what used to be a vast glacial lake. Great place for migratory birds to hang out. And for hazelnuts to grow.

We have been going out every weekend in August, looking for them to ripen. If you let them go too long on the bush, they shatter out of their pods and are lost to the long grass. If you get them too early, they haven’t developed enough to taste good. We garnered seven paper bags in about two hours.

The bears have been blazing trails, breaking branches, and munching nuts.

Knowing that they follow a typical mast crop rhythm, which means there will be none next year, we have gone out the following day and gotten five more bags. Lunacy, perhaps. But our kind of mania tastes good!

And is a great excuse to wallow in beauty.

Learning journal: doomscrolling with a purpose

I’ve had a nasty chest cold with accompanying cough since early June, which means I’ve spent less time weeding than I should and more time on social media. All while crocheting, of course… I have learned a few worthwhile lessons.

As in: what new things can one do with green beans? They are cascading now. Hard to keep up with the excess.

I mentioned a pasta with fried zucchini and eggplant the other day. That was a doomscrolling idea. Then there was the Italian guy who tossed green beans into the boiling pasta. I’ll try anything once. I can never remember the exact recipe from my doomsday machine, so this is what I did:

I thin sliced the eggplant, spread on a dish towel and sprinkled with kosher salt. I prefer the long thin variety over the globe, but both were tasty. Thin sliced a zucchini. This time I used a yellow one. I prefer the green for this method. Squeezed excess water out of eggplant. Fried the veg until golden. Drained on paper towels. Removed excess oil. Sautéed chopped garlic until fragrant. Grated high acid tomatoes (we grow Early Girls.). Tossed in with the garlic along with a pinch of fennel seed, two thin sliced jalapeños, fresh marjoram and thyme, capers and a few anchovies. Salt to taste. I started boiling water at the beginning, but tossed the pasta into the salted water when my tomatoes stopped looking watery. Tossed green beans (both ends chopped off) in with pasta. Boiled for 6 minutes. Scooped pasta and beans from water directly into tomatoes and stirred to coat pasta. Michael grated me a mound of cheese. Used provolone and goat cheese last time; Parmesan and Gouda this time. Both great. Go wild with the cheese. Just don’t use pre-grated stuff. Sprinkled cheese on pasta. Mounded half the fried veg on top. More cheese. More veg. More cheese! A sprinkling of freshly chopped parsley. Allow to bubble a bit and melt that cheese. I don’t plate things well, so no final photo. But Michael loved the green beans (which aren’t his favorite).

My tech informed me this was a very nutritious meal, even if a bit light on protein. We will have leftovers tomorrow!

The other doomscrolling moment of enlightenment was a video showing someone making a top out of a fancy tablecloth. I didn’t have such an item (yet?) so I grabbed a scrap of cloth donated to my church. Measured my shoulder width and added some for sleeves. Trimmed to have even edges. Cut out a neck hole and tried it on. Trimmed to fit better. Looked like a poncho. Measured my hips and gave it an extra bit for comfort. Cut in for the arms, up from the waist, and then joined the two cuts with a curve. Used the fabric from that last step to make the facing for the neck. At this point it was one piece of fabric with a neck hole. Faced the neck, sewed the sides together, hemmed the sleeves and bottom and was done. Turned out ok! Sewing without a pattern but with techniques people are willing to share. I think I need to go and doomscroll some more.

Garden journal: high summer

August. Corn tassels. Eggplant ripens. Cucumbers balloon (if you’re not vigilant). Tomatoes cascade. Rain eludes us. We begin to water.

Our pitiful onion crop. The French Germinador garlic (lower left) is ready to braid.

I used the last of our stored onions today to make pork sandwiches. More onions in the cucumber salad (what to do when they balloon). More onions in the calabacitas (sauteed squash with peppers, corn and cheese). Michael made the BEST barley rolls!

We walked off that fabulous garden-goods lunch investigating Michael’s trails through the woods. The Grand Guy was impressed that his Booma could find deer skulls half buried in the dirt.

Michael has been felling trees (a near-dead ash here) for winter firewood. He figures that if he’s putting in the roadwork, might as well get multiple years worth of wood.

We moved the spring rhubarb wine from the primary fermenter to the carboy. We haven’t been eating as many rhubarb pies. Too hot to bake!

I made a fabulous zucchini-eggplant pasta with sauce made from grated tomatoes, garlic and fresh parsley, thyme and marjoram. I have no basil this year. I prefer the marjoram!

We ended our day eating mulberries off the tree. Grands: an excellent motivation to get out and graze the concentrated sweetness of high summer.

Foraging journal: sumac jelly!!!

I’ve mentioned the dearth of jelly and jam fodder due to early severe hail. This led Michael to look up whether you can make jelly out of sumac berries. Turns out it’s a thing.

Meet Bob. Sumac bob=cluster of those fuzzy red berries. We have dried them for their fuzzies before, which is a process we need not repeat since we found a source of ready-made sumac fluff.

We found the bobs when we went fishing. First outing of the year! We found a lovely young person to re-gel coat our aged canoe and just got it back. Eli did a fine job rehabbing the Mad River.

We fed grilled fish, garden vegetables, and jelly roll cake to children.

While leaving the bobs to soak in water for a while. (I used a glass pie plate to weight them down).

Then I heated the water to just under a boil while agitating them. Just under a simmer for about 20 minutes. Watch that water turn red!

Recipe called for ¼ cup lemon juice, 5 cups strained sumac juice (I used jelly bag), and 6 Tablespoons powdered pectin heated to a simmer. Add 5 cups sugar and get to a roiling boil for 1 minute. Makes exactly 4 pints of jelly. Note: a standard package of pectin is about 5 Tablespoons. I had enough for 3 batches. This makes the prettiest jelly. It tastes like a non-cloying strawberry with a Mediterranean accent. I will do this again!

I’ve been drinking the leftovers with seltzer and simple syrup. I may need to stew some bobs just to have sumac soda: my new summertime magic potion.

Foraging journal: chokecherry redemption

Back in June, hail happened.

It shredded our garden and ruined the apples, pears, plums, and cherries, and currants, red and black.

It even set the rhubarb back!

Amazingly, the wild chokecherries benefited from having some, but not all, of the fruit knocked off. They are relatively large this year, being the size of a large caper rather than a small pea. The hot weather we’ve had since late June concentrated their juice, making them extra flavorful.

After taking out stray stems and leaves, I barely covered the whole cherries with water and simmered them for a while, until they fell apart when smashed with a potato masher. Then into cheesecloth and hung overnight. This, of course, is happening on a day that is humid and 94° F.

We garnered about 12 cups of juice from 10 pounds of cherries.

Chokecherries: deep red velvet on toast. Yum.

Fiber journal: capturing warmth

In between gardens and birds, I’ve managed to complete a few fiber projects.

One of my church-lady friends mentioned that she dreamed I crocheted her a dress. I thought about her dream for a long time and then mentioned that I’d never seen her in a dress. She said, “That’s because I don’t wear dresses!” I asked if she would wear a long vest, and she said she would. I then asked her what color vest she’d like, and she said, “purple.” I found some purple sock yarn and started making squares. When I visited my mom, we found an appropriate accent color, which allowed me to put squares together. I made one of these vests for my mother-in-law, but it didn’t fit my friend. Once I got the front and back done, I measured her and made the side panels to fit.

Finally, a did a deep dive into my stash and found these amazing buttons either my momma or one of my sisters gifted me. They were exactly right! She loved the end result!

I considered using some apricot wood for buttons, but they turned out too dark once finished. Back into the stash they go.

We share dreams while we work on projects to give away. This is the quilt I made to go with our church’s monetary donation to a local project to supply children with beds. I began with a bunch of scrap material that had been donated to us, and then had to figure out how to parlay the scraps into a pattern large enough for a twin-sized quilt. I’m pleased with the result. I hope some child likes the colors.

I took a break from the above projects to dive into my yarn stash to make this “mushroom cap.” The bottom/brim is hand spun merino, Navajo plied. The top is made from mohair, hand spun and dyed with commercial dyes. It was a very soft but sturdy hat. I have a fairly substantial fiber stash….

My brother makes it look good!

I am surrounded by beauty every day. I find joy in being able to share some comfort with those who will appreciate the caress of whimsy.

Harvest journal: broiler math

We harvested broilers to piece out (breasts, legs and thighs, wings, soup bones) over four days, ending on June 25th. The average weight on that date was 5.5 lbs per chicken. While putting birds to bed on July 4th, Michael found a broiler who died, probably from overheating.

July 5th dawned cool and misty, having rained an inch over night.

Mushrooms sprouted everywhere.

And we did in the last 6 broilers.

Meaning to brag a lot, I manhandled these big boys one-armed down range, where the chopping block lives, back to the gibbet, then into the pot of hot water (to loosen the feathers for plucking). Now I remember why I’ve lifted weights all these years!!!

The largest broiler weighed in at 11 pounds, the smallest (who was suffering from water belly) was 8.5 pounds. The average weight came to 10.1 pounds. That means these birds gained about 4.5 pounds each in 10 days. We had to harvest them before they all died of heart failure. We will give 3 of these birds to our children. One is for Thanksgiving and the other for Christmas. Then there is one to roast on some cold, winter day just to have leftovers. I will continue training for next years harvest!

Celebration journal: family and fireworks

My children provided the fireworks.

We all pitched in for lunch.

This guy just returned from an 8,000 mile motorcycle trip to the Arctic Ocean. (No wonder he looks tired!)

The other brother (and his lovely wife, not in this photo), traveled from Michigan to share the day with us!

The first ones here got (almost) all the berries!

Uncle Douglas made cool toys on his 3D printer.

Everyone enjoys flashes, bangs and smoke.

The grand finale: “Run, Boopa! Run!”

I missed it all due to comforting the Wee Grand, who didn’t like the noise. She needed a nap and I needed to have time holding her.

We celebrated a birthday (early).

And then marveled at the huge storm that blew in to water our gardens.

We, individually and collectively, are rich beyond measure. We work this land for fun and it nourishes us and our family. We care (in a very physical way) for our neighbors and community. Our neighbors and community care for us. I still work in the federal court system, trying to keep processes and outcomes fair. The system doesn’t always work, but it works mostly. Because I have spent so much time in jails and prisons (as a visitor, not an inmate) I value physical freedom fiercely. Because I have been a witness to so much pain, suffering and abuse, I appreciate emotional freedom intensely. Because I have lived in foreign lands, I recognize political freedom as precious. This country is a work in progress, and it depends on us all to progress. We celebrate because we have so much to be thankful for, and then we get back to work.

Feathered friends journal: from babies to broth

Our goal: reducing our winter flock while maintaining our freezer and egg stock.

We found Light Brahma chicks at Tractor Supply on April 23rd. We bought 4, all girls. Light Brahmas grow to be large, friendly chickens. One of our favorite hens (Boyo) was a Light Brahma. We like to introduce different breeds into our flock…because we can. Besides, feathered feet are fun.

Our first duckling hatched on April 29th. Michael gathered about 20 eggs for the incubator, but I left for the Thelma and Louise trip before it was time to candle them. As Michael did ALL of the chores, he didn’t candle eggs. We ended up with 9 ducklings from those 20 eggs. Tractor Supply didn’t have any ducklings we wanted.

We hatched 6 Speckled Sussex (with a bit of Golden Laced Wyandotte mixed in) by May 3rd. We keep the very small birds in the basement under heat lamps so they don’t freeze. They need temps in the 90s when newly hatched.

We brought home 36 straight run broiler chicks from the feed mill on May 5th. Michael prepared a space in the winter duck coop for them as there were too many for the bins! A “straight run” is where you get both males and females in the mix.

We moved the ducklings and heritage chickens to the winter coop on May 7th.

Those Brahmas love to jump up and perch on things. The ducklings tend to be afraid when you come to feed and water them, crowding into the furthest corner possible. Both these tendencies resulted in injuries. We noticed one Brahma not moving much, and one duckling had a leg that wasn’t working right. We brought them inside again and I splinted the chicken’s foot and wrapped the leg so it was immobilized. Both birds fully recovered; I got my bird first aid ⛑️ badge.

The ducklings moved to pasture on May 25th and have been happily running with the big ducks ever since.

We’ve inadvertently raised a clutch of robins and phoebes in our canoes. We hope to evict the nests when empty and go fishing one of these days.

This is not a dead bird. It is a bird that tipped over and couldn’t right itself again. We knew it was time to start harvesting the broilers when this happened.

Our son-in-law came and helped with today’s batch. Average weight was 5.5 pounds per bird. Three days ago the average weight was 5.25 pounds. Once broilers hit that 5 pound mark, they grow quickly. We harvested 6 birds today. 6 birds 3 days ago and 7 birds last week. Several were very small due to hip dysplasia which kept them from being able to access the feeder. I tried to nurse one back to health, but it was a genetic defect and not an injury. We lost 4 broilers to a variety of predators and injuries. We hope to raise the remaining 7 to roasting size.

Cheesy noodles made with chicken broth = energy!

Grand journal: time with that guy

We anticipate having both the grands gifted us by my youngest daughter for sleepovers when the baby no longer needs diapers. In the meantime, we celebrated being able to have the GrandGuy with us for a few days.

He walked Zeke.

And when he tired of that, he practiced walking like a dog and trumpeting like an elk.

He helped Boopa with the birds every morning.

And brought Booma flowers every day.

We went exploring along the St. Croix.

We ordered him his first sodas.

Painted his nails in super-hero colors and plied him with super-hero ice cream.

And then we returned him to his regular programming.

And we returned to ours. (We are still trying to catch up on weeding.). A brilliant way to begin June!

Solstice journal: racing (with) the sun

Today my eldest granddaughter turned 9, my brother celebrated 45 years of being married to the love of his life, and we all celebrated the fathers, grandfathers and those who act as fathers in our lives. It is a lot to ask of a single day, but the sun rose at 5:22 AM and will set at 9:02 PM…giving us more than 16 hours of daylight in which to be joyful.

I remember going to meet this bright flower on the day she was born. When she cried, as all children will, her entire forehead wrinkled and she looked like a Romulan. She was, and is, smart and kind and beautiful.

The child favors yellow, which makes sense for being born on the day with the most sunlight of the year. The mullein and butter-and-eggs have just come into bloom.

The bees have been loving our rampaging weeds.

This fine pheasant has staked out the end of our driveway as his territory. He is much less intimidating than the Sandhills I had to sneak by a couple of years ago.

I am grateful to have these wonders to share with this child of the light.

Foraging journal: what to eat before the garden produces

The last frost visited on May 20th. The first thunderstorm roared past yesterday. All our garden seeds sprouted with that storm. It will be at least another week before we start to harvest radishes. But that doesn’t mean we haven’t been eating spring greens.

April 22: winter cress becomes plentiful along the fence lines and in the ditches.

The rounded leaves in a rosette pattern are diagnostic. I rinse off any dirt and pick the leaves from the stems.

Chicken winter cress Alfredo. (I use goat cheese to substitute for some of the cream to give the Alfredo sauce a bit more zing.). Winter cress colcannon. Good for what ails you.

When the winter cress begins to bloom, it becomes very mustardy and coarse. This is when nettles sprout along the edges of fields. May 7th arose bright and mild, a perfect day to scout out nettle thickets.

I snipped the tops off the nettles into a bowl and then used gloves to separate the leaves from the stems. A water bath washed off any stray debris.

Sautéed in olive oil with a splash of rice vinegar, they provided a deep flavor to balance the rosemary chicken and brown rice or sausage and potatoes. The dark green, almost black, liqueur they produce (full of iron and vitamin A!) does not pair well with cream based sauces. My tech approves of nettles!

May 23rd: Michael found wild mustard growing wherever we fed chickens and ducks last winter. Wild mustard is related to winter cress but sprouts later. It has softer, fuzzier leaves and a milder flavor.

Due to this mildness, it pairs well with fish, seafood, and cream based sauces.

June 3rd: the cattails were big enough to harvest. We have several ponds on our property, so cattails are very available.

After rinsing, I sliced off the root end and trimmed down the leaf end. You can see the growth rings. The outer layers with the holes get trimmed off as they are pithy and inedible. I was looking for the tender heart and found it.

They substituted for celery in my fried rice. They can be sautéed in butter, but I find them to be a bit bland. Interestingly, they stood up to the garlic-ginger-soy of the fried rice, giving it that lightness celery can imbue. Only better. Thank you to this land and place that provides us with greens when we need them most!

Construction journal: last window in, last outside wall sided

June 6th. A month ago our last (ok, maybe second-to-last) major outside project commenced.

May 5: this is the last of the old windows to be removed and replaced. The window going in isn’t the same size, so the header (the support system above a window or door) had to be redone. Working on a wall that support the roof trusses means making a temporary truss support while the permanent wall is reconfigured.

Old window gone! Hole for new window cut.

May 6: New window opening framed in! That’s Craig, our trusted builder, admiring his work.

New window in! You can see how much more light there is in that room now.

May 12: the last of the siding starts to go up. The soffit on that side also was replaced. The electricity and water taken out. We will put a faucet back in on that side, but in a different (more convenient) location.

May 21: siding finished! I still have a bit of construction debris to process, but the house is secured from the elements. Whew.

Not pictured: me, running around finding all the bits and pieces we have stored for the past forever waiting for this project to be done. Me, washing the dirt off of said materials, accumulated during years of storage in sheds and under tarps. Me, making executive decisions about window placement and height while Michael was off making gardens flourish. Both of us, lending a hand when needed to lift that huge window into place and other instances where extra hands made the work go smoothly. Thank you Craig for your diligence and expertise. Thank you Jenny for doing great work!!!

Harvest journal: Pentecost, Shavuot, and moveable feasts

I missed services today as I was out playing in the dirt. Pentecost or Shavuot, today is the 50th day after Easter (or about the same time frame as after Passover) and celebrates the breath of fire and first harvests. This year, it also is one of the first warm, sunny days of springtime. My daughter’s garden (and mine) called me to serve.

We brought them a scion of a lilac to replace the one which winter killed.

And a couple of elderberries to occupy the space formerly devoted to a compost heap.

We adopted their compost the Saturday before Mother’s Day and I spent most of that Sunday sifting the branches and trash out of the lovely dirt. Took us several days to process, but we put it to good use in our gardens.

They removed some very scraggly bushes from the front of their house and Michael and Nate rearranged the large rocks that had been hiding. Now there are currants that will give berries in July and we have a volunteer cherry bush that should go well in this space. Flame colored fruit seemed appropriate for the day.

I repotted their geranium…which was red! It needed liberating from the trailing vine with which it had been planted.

Upon arriving back to the farm, Michael commenced mowing almost immediately. I weeded the asparagus and harvested wild mustard.

We have harvested winter cress (a type of mustard) in prior years, but this is our first harvest of mustard. We assume the seeds came in with the bird feed, due to its distribution. I needed to get it picked so Michael could mow. With the warm weather, the plants will flower and will put all its energy into seeds again, rather than leaves.

It was amazing in the sunfish chowder I made last night. Here’s to honoring traditions tied to the land!

Mother’s Day journal: celebrating the divine feminine

Raised in the Catholic Church, the images of powerful women filled my childhood. Having a mother who could do anything was just as natural as having the sun rise.

This is the first light in Big Woods country this Mother’s Day. As my father would say, it is beautiful, but not as stunning as my momma.

I don’t often get to be with her, but she is with me always.

I am most fortunate to be able to share time more often with my daughters and their families. They, also, are powerful women.

I cannot share as much time with my amazing cousins, so I appreciate the time I have with them all that much more.

And thank you to all these men who celebrate us. We wouldn’t be mothers without you.

Learning journal: being a santo elf

My mom, when she’s not channeling Thelma, spends a fair amount of time making santos to bless people’s homes. For those of you who aren’t familiar with santos, they are paintings of saints to whom one may petition for divine intervention. For instance, I have a San Isidro on my wall, who is the patron saint of farmers.

When I visit, one of my regular jobs is to lubricate her tin brake.

It went umpteen years without being lubed and then fell apart. I put it back together and have made sure it gets regular care. That machine cuts a lotta tin!

Above the machine my mom pasted up a San José, since my dad used to maintain her tools.

She buys galvanized flashing in rolls of different widths at her local hardware store. She put me to work cutting the roll down to size.

After the tin is cut into a rectangle, she traces a semicircle along the top with a jig (a completed santo) and cut along the inscribed line with tin shears. Having cut tin for construction projects, I could handle this part, so cut about 20 tins to spec.

After trimming, a design is hammered around the edge with a punch designed for this task. Doing this tap tap tap part really made me feel like a santo elf!

No photos of me tapping away, but this is what the setup looks like.

I also didn’t get photos of her soldering hangers on the backs or gluing images (her artwork) on the tins, but this is the finished product.

I also planted a couple of tomatoes and did a few other maintenance projects around the house.

I work for lattes!!! Best elf gig around.