Harvest journal: using up 14 pounds of deer tallow and 11 pounds of bird fat

Spring cleaning takes on a new twist in our household: using up what we have squirreled away in our freezers so we have more room when harvest rolls around. We hope to be gardening soon, but this is March, and we have 8” of new fallen snow, with more on its way. Towards our goal, we inventoried our cache and found 25 pounds of various types of rendered fat: deer, duck, and some very old goose. With our riches, Michael made soap and I made candles.

This is end-product soap. That darker soap is the goose-deer mix. It smells lemony, whereas the duck-deer smells more like milk chocolate. Pure deer tallow makes a bar so hard and sharp Michael says you can shave with it.

The process starts with measuring. The weight of the fats are entered into a soap calculator to give the amounts of water and lye needed. We zero the scale for every vessel, which is called “taring.”

Michael carefully adds the lye to the water, which creates an exothermic reaction. If he added the water to the lye, it would work on less water, creating a steam flash, which could create an explosion or would at least shatter the bottle. Bad idea. “Do as you oughta, add acid to watah,” admonishes every chem teacher ever. Same goes for strong bases, such as lye.

The water, which started at room temperature, clocks in at 185° almost instantly. (We do stir it with a wooden spoon handle to dissolve all the lye).

While the fat and lye solution cool to 100°F, Michael lines a cardboard box with plastic. We use construction grade garbage bags.

The lye solution works on the fats in a process called saponification, a fancy word meaning “turning into soap.” The trick is getting a combination that solidifies into a bar pleasant to use. The color change says the process works. The blending continues until the mixture thickens and “traces”, or leaves a visible mark on the surface.

Into the box. Covered with newspapers. Covered with covers. Holding the heat in allows the saponification to occur more quickly and keeps the lye and fat from separating. Wait until tomorrow. Cut with long thin knife. Don’t wait too long or the soap becomes too hard to cut. An 8 pound bar of soap isn’t handy. Use in two weeks to allow all the lye, which is caustic, to finish combining with those fats and have nothing left but soap!

While Michael makes soap, I make candles.

I use recycled candle glass and canning jars for my holders. I remove any old wick holders. I crimp on a new wick holder (came with the wick) and stick it to the bottom of the glass with candle holder paste. I secure the top of the wick with a toothpick (or other implement), which holds the wick in the middle of the tallow as it solidifies.

I melt my tallow. Lately I’ve added herbs as it melts. I remove the herbs. I pour. I wait. I trim the wick. It burns.

Cleanly.

Phenology journal: the birds are back in town

I heard Sandhills calling today. A week ago a cardinal sang a love song, and sat high again this morning. The pileated woodpeckers make cartoon machine guns out of deadwood. Canvasbacks mingle with the swans. The redwing blackbirds arrived with the Sandhills.

Two beavers played in the river. No photo. Two eagles hunted our field. Photo below.

We had fresh snow last night. The sun burns it into rivulets. Robins appeared last week, then fled again before the snow.

My leeks grow. They are the first of my garden-to-be.

Warm air plus cold earth equals fog. We have started pruning fruit trees between snow storms.

Pheasants and deer play in our backyard.

While the chickadees play indoors.

The long red light returns with the birds, heralding the equinox, and spring.

Season journal: HCB and other delights

One a penny, two a penny

Grand Girl #1 asked why hot crossed buns could only be made during Lent. I asked her if we make Christmas cookies in July? “No!” Carve pumpkins in January? “No!” Easter eggs in June? “No!” HCB can only be made during Lent because that is the tradition, and traditions are what govern time. Michael makes the HCB for family and neighbors using my grandmother’s recipe (slightly modified). In essence, this is a sweet dough featuring cinnamon, currants and citron. A cross is cut in the top before the second rise, then traced with frosting while still warm. My grandmother would make them by the dozens and bring them to the local rectory and convent. I’ve always loved them, citron and all. It may be because they remind me intensely of my grandmama. Traditions not only mark seasons; they tie one generation to the next.

We made an apple crisp with Harralson apples we stored. They are still good, if a wee bit shriveled. The recipe is from Auntie Harriette, who stored her Harralsons in her stairwell, which was unheated. Apple crisp in winter will always remind me of Harriette.

Who knows what our grands will absorb and pass along to another generation. We can only hope they will see citron and currants and have an unquenchable desire to bake…and then will look to see when Lent begins.

Grand journal: extended visits

Michael and I have been keeping regular company for about 40 years now. These are the fruits of our labor: grands who like us, and each other.

We hosted the girls so their parents could go off, jaunt about, and arrive back exhausted, but happy.

We stayed with the girls, and are exhausted, but happy.

We started the first day by putting GG#2 to work making blueberry banana bread. Both girls gave it two thumbs up.

Later in the day, GG#1 learned how to make her favorite bread: no knead baguettes.

We finished out the first day with dinner at a supper club on a lake. The girls behaved beautifully. We make better food, but can’t compete on atmosphere and funny people watching.

Day #2 began with baking the no knead baguettes. GG#1 made individual sized loaves. Small loaves are easier to shape and place on baguette pans with small hands.

GG#2 then helped make spelt/black barley rolls. They went well with bean soup, which was better received than restaurant fare.

GG#2 also helped make a Valentines Day cake. They applied the sprinkles. The girls opted to save the cake for Day#3, so they could share with their cousins. Then again, they did get to gobble up the cake scraps and leftover frosting, so they may have already been adequately steeped in chocolate.

The rest of the day was taken up with making presents for their parents, which required a lengthy bath afterwards. We forgot to pack the presents, so photos of their creations will have to wait.

Day #3 brought the cousins. It was a whirlwind visit (hence few photos), as GG#3 wasn’t feeling chipper. Turns out she has an ear infection and RSV, which explains her need to be home and cuddled. The Grand Guy finished his artwork at home.

The girls found the harvesting of the corn crop that afternoon fascinating.

We got our own snuggle time later in the day. No photos of reading books, playing board games, walking in the woods, visiting fuzzy cows, picking up rocks, playing on swings, making snow castles, watching movies, eating popcorn, and other delights. They were happy to go home on Day#4, but also gave us big hugs and promises to visit again. Caring for children is hard work, but the best use of time ever.

January Journal: Brrrrrr

I sit in the ER, waiting to reclaim Michael. He fell victim to ice in the duck corral and dislocated his shoulder. Because he is a long-term weight lifter, he didn’t break anything. On the other hand, those great muscles made putting the joint back in place difficult. At one point, four docs were pulling on him!

I will have to arm-wrestle him to allow me to take over his outdoor duties of bird care and wood hauling.

All better…not. So now it is tomorrow and we are coming to grips with my bronchitis and his right arm being out of commission. No photos due to having to use all my hands to keep up with him. First, I got sand to spread all over the slippery spots. Michael yelled at me from the back door to get inside because he couldn’t see where I was and if I fell, well, we’d really be in a pickle. So I came inside and warmed up. By the way, we’ve been having highs in the single digits lately. Then back outside to fill water buckets and feeders. Michael filled buckets halfway and I dumped them. Think about the physics. We got through bird care without mishap and took a nap. Then brought wood inside. Michael stacked logs in 5 gallon buckets and I stacked wood inside. Now I’m having a hot gin (recipe courtesy of Charles Dickens) to soothe my throat and he’s having green tea. He got enough good meds yesterday!

In his defense, even the deer have had trouble navigating the ice.

Otherwise, we’ve had a lovely (if cold) January. So much to celebrate! None of my children have been shot or gassed by ICE!

My rosemary blooms.

My grandchildren grow.

I completed a receiving blanket for the woman who works at the feed mill, as well as a head gaiter for a fellow church lady. She gave me one that didn’t fit her well and I repurposed the yarn to make her one that does. AND I’m learning how to knit double-sided. I’m not working from a pattern so my ducklings are individuals. As with everything, I get better with practice.

Some days success looks like this.

Epiphany journal: I wonder as I wander

O. Henry wrote a story called “The Gift of the Magi.” If you’re not familiar with it, it’s about a young couple who are penniless but want to buy each other a present for Christmas. He has a pocket watch of which he is proud and she has long, lovely hair. He hocks his watch to buy her hair combs and she cuts her hair to buy him a chain for his watch. I’m a sucker for love stories. This one sticks with me because it is part of a journey these two are making together; hence, the title. Today is the Feast of the Magi, or Three Kings. It may be my favorite holiday, if only due to its focus on journeying.

Michael makes sure I have a hibiscus in the house. I fell in love with them in Brazil, where they would spill over from peoples’ yards into the sidewalks. I now live with snow and cold, but my life is full of flowers.

Zeke accompanies me on the walk I have been taking almost daily for the past 11 years. I have not yet grown tired of the scenery. I often notice something new; if only ephemeral footprints of prior forays.

I packaged up the last of the sausages today. Our final count was 75 pounds: 25 of Swedish potato, 20 pounds of brats and 30 of kielbasa. We feed them to family and friends, but still there are many to store. I managed to find space in our freezers.

But only by taking out a chicken to roast. Michael makes the best stuffing. This version had the traditional onions and celery, to which he added collards, mushrooms, black olives, jalapeños, and baby corn. He loves bread. He knows I love vegetables. His dressing reaches new heights of culinary delight through his efforts to meld our preferences together.

Time together is one of the greatest gifts of all.

Happy wandering.

Celebration journal: all these days of Christmas

I love multi-day celebrations. Christmas does NOT come but once a year, but rather has 7 days in one year and another 5 the following year. We are sitting here, before the fire, drinking a wee bit of vodka and reveling in the 7th day of Christmas.

Not to get ahead of myself, we did start on the 25th with Day 1 festivities. Zeke enjoyed the calm before the storm.

We ate food. (The deviled eggs were special for Lilith, who eats but little).

Since Christmas Day 1 is a birthday party, we ate cake.

We drank wine. The elderberry has a festive color!

We opened presents.

We sat on laps.

We calmed down.

And then we said, “so long.”

On the Third Day of Christmas we went to a museum. The boys gifted us babysitting. Now I have pan envy.

We came home to hail, thunder and lightning.

On the Fourth Day we received the gift of 8” of snow and gale force winds.

On the Sixth Day we ventured out in search of sausage casings, having spent the Fifth Day moving snow.

Which brings us to today! We celebrated all that snow (it hasn’t stopped snowing for the past 3 days) by making sausages. Today we made 24 pounds of venison-pork Swedish potato sausage. We sampled some for dinner and it was worth the effort. We have bratwurst and kielbasa to go. Michael took the photos today as I wrestled the casings. Being thin and delicate (you rinse the salt off and run water through them to open them up, all of which takes nimble fingers), I get to coax the casings onto the stuffer and then tie them off. Snow in bowls keeps the meat cold during the grinding process. That is an open window, which turns the back bedroom into a refrigerator. Last year we didn’t have a sausage snow until February.

Happy New Year and here’s to five more days of Christmas!

Experimentation journal: deer tallow candles

A by-product of butchering our own deer is that we have access to deer fat, which I render into tallow. Michael makes soap, but our tallow store has outstripped our soap needs. Ever inventive, Michael bought a candle mold, wick, and a candlestick holder. Venison tallow has a high melting point and feels waxy at room temperature, which is why we thought it might make an okay candle.

Success! But not without a learning curve.

This is the candle mold. Michael said to tape the bottom holes, where the wicks come through, shut. Not trusting an unproven method, I used a deep dish for possible leeks. I threaded toothpicks through the wick to hold them at the top.

I melted tallow in a tall pot with a spout. We used to bring it camping to make coffee.

Once the tallow melted, I filled the mold. It leaked immediately. The tape fell off. Michael made a paste of flour and water to act as a stopper. This only worked so well, as I had to apply steady downward pressure to keep this from leaking. Michael got a large lead weight, which applied sufficient pressure, but was hard to balance. The whole thing fell over, splashing deer tallow everywhere. We started again, and this time while I held a steady downward pressure, Michael rubbed the outside of the mold with an ice cube. This worked! The tallow solidified with minimal leakage.

To remove the candles, we put the mold in the freezer, which shrinks the tallow more than the metal. The candles practically fell out.

The bottom of the candle broke, but not by much. Michael did some research on how to use a candle mold where the wick comes out the bottom. There is a putty you can buy, or you can seal it with hot glue. We have a hot glue gun, so will try that next.

It burns well once the wick got below the tip of the candle. It doesn’t drip more than normal. It has no scent. We will call this experiment successful, if a bit more exciting than necessary.

Michael: butcher, baker, candlestick maker!

Tradition journal: la tamalada

Some people have ham. Others serve turkey. We tuck into tamales on Christmas! Which means, some time prior, we have a tamalada, or a tamale making party. Today was that day!

I started the meat filling on Thursday and got it done Friday evening. Think an 8 pound pork shoulder roast, defrosted and boiled with bay leaves, garlic, salt, and a sprinkling of chile flakes, until it falls apart. Fish it out of its broth into another pot. Strain the broth into a stock pot and cool (I put mine outside, where it sat at -10°F this morning). Make chile by soaking dried pods (NM is the best!) in hot water. While the chiles soften, sauté some onions and garlic in your favorite oil (I used the last of my chicken fat), until translucent but not browned. Transfer the chiles from the water bath into a blender with the onions and garlic and whir with enough of the pork broth to make a soft paste. Put the meat back into its boiling pan (I use a huge Dutch oven, which I washed while making the chile paste) and shred with two forks. Add the chile, oregano, comino, and salt to taste. Simmer lightly until the flavors have melded.

The next stage is where a work crew comes in handy. You soak corn husks in hot water until softened and drain. Mix about 8 cups of masa harina (corn flour) with six cups of yellow corn meal, a generous tablespoon of baking powder and another of salt, cut in 2 pounds of lard, and then pour in the heated pork broth until it makes a thick paste. Spread the masa on 2/3 of the corn husk.

Add a generous dollop of the meat filling, roll, then tuck the 1/3 at the top over, making a nice package.

The wee Grand kept us entertained.

We made about 5 dozen tamales today!

The tamales steam for an hour. Michael made beans, rice, and red chile to round out the meal.

The mid-Grand carefully kept track of the tamales she made.

A well-earned meal.

But a bit spicy for wee Grand, who ate 3 bowls of beans instead.

Some people still had energy.

Some did not.

Cheers!

Ritual journal: light in the darkness

Advent began, for those who celebrate, on November 30th.

Michael is not a fan of formal religion, but accepts certain rituals, such as having an Advent Wreath, as these are ways of marking time, keeping Christian holidays from being solely a commercial enterprise. I mean, I did buy the candles. We are gathering tools to make deer tallow candles, but have had delays in sourcing candle wick. Hanukkah, Kwanza, Diwali, all involve light in dark times.

These are the people who bring light into my life.

Celebrating the union of friends brings light into my life.

Having the Grand Guy trust me to cut his hair brings light into my life.

Watching the wee Grand develop coordination and strength brings light into my life.

Seeing the same face appear in different generations brings light into my life.

Watching the love shared by the Grands brings light into my life.

Savoring the food stashed away in sunnier days brings light into my life.

Having a partner who devises lovely ways to survive without a dryer while we work on revising our house brings light into my life.

We have few days when the sun shines; a gift of La Niña. When it does shine, we appreciate the light even more.

Tradition journal: eating together

Growing up, my family always ate dinner together, despite the pull of myriad conflicting schedules. Michael also had family meals. We eat at the same table as often as possible given that our children now have their own households. Thanksgiving is a continuation of that tradition, with the added enticement of Michael’s stuffing.

It begins as a base of bread cubes hydrated with chicken broth. Onions and garlic boiled in butter. Then he starts adding vegetables to the onion butter. This year he added a red, yellow and green bell pepper, mushrooms, black olives, apples, celery, and the last of the collards from our garden. Sprinkled with black pepper and more poultry seasoning than the law allows, it goes into the bird with the overflow occupying its own casserole.

That is one of our 10 lb. broilers I am carving. It fed 10 of us, with leftovers. Michael is making gravy in the background…which also requires copious amounts of black pepper.

The chicken, potatoes and applesauce came from our gardens, as well as the rhubarb wine. The china was Michael’s grandmother’s, which makes it five generations who have used this set, if you include the grands.

Having very young children means we aren’t allowed to put food on the table and then wait while the final dishes of green bean casserole and twice-baked squash finish cooking. Not picture perfect but very tasty.

We took a break before dessert: apple, pumpkin and chocolate-pecan pies. Thankfully, my daughter took the missing pie home with her.

All the kids burned off some energy waiting for noon dinner by trying out our new elliptical machine. We began using it before hunting season started. We look forward to having our regular schedule back again soon. We got the elliptical to keep training during the winter and be bike-riding ready next spring.

The Grands engaged in their usual shenanigans.

After dinner we all crashed.

Then it was time to put on boots and say so long…which we hope will only be a couple of days.

Our first real snow fell yesterday.

We are thankful to have enough space for children to run yet small enough to remain cozy. We are thankful to be rich enough to run a subsistence farm. We are thankful to have enough strength and energy to work this experiment of ours. Mostly, we are thankful to be together.

Tradition journal: shoot deer, chop it up, eat it

Yesterday opened gun deer season here in Big Woods County. We had four hunters manning various quadrants of our 40 acres. On opening day, all the deer appeared in the northwest section, and my son-in-law Nate collected three: two bucks and a doe. It was his year to shine.

(This is a buffer image for those who do not wish to see dead animals.)

Nate with his 8-point buck at 9:30 am.

At 2 PM he shot a doe that came through the corn. While he was waiting for his adrenaline to calm down enough to scale his 18 foot ladder, another buck came sniffing after the herd of does that just passed by, so he downed him as well. The pattern of deer traffic changes every year. So nice that Nate had his chance to provide us all with venison this year.

I got to watch golden finches in winter plumage all day.

Michael got to clean out a mouse nest from his deer stand, even though he had cleaned it the day before.

Michael helped Nate haul the buck up out of the ravine, and Matt, our other son-in-law, helped with the doe. Me, with my bad knees, got to sit in the Ranger, which I drove up from the garage. I did have to hook up a trailer. Go me.

Michael, who loads bullets for everyone, noticed that the bullet had not come out the far side of the buck. It hit a shoulder, hit the heart, hit another shoulder, and stopped just under the hide. The boys spent time finding the buck due to a lack of blood to trail. It ran 60 yards before it tipped over, which is typical for a heart shot. Good shooting Nate!

Today, Michael parted out the deer, Persephone and I chopped it into edible pieces, and Nate kept the kiddles under control. That is the Grand Guy imitating a fierce buck.

Our mini-dinosaurs loved the job of cleaning the bones. These will go on the pyre in next year’s garden.

Here’s to another year of sharing in the fruits of our labor!

Celebration journal: Days of the Dead

We have been here in Wisconsin for eleven years now. We have celebrated the Days of the Dead by visiting gravesites since 2019. I don’t have a journal entry for 2021 as my daughter’s water broke when we got back from our rounds; the grand guy made his appearance on this date 4 years ago.

His latest fascination is with The Hobbit and dinosaurs, which are kin to dragons. My daughter carried on the tradition of making fabulous birthday cakes (one started by my mother), and made the Grand Guy Smaug’s lair. It was delicious!

We started visiting our dead early yesterday. It rained a little, but for Wisconsin in November, was quite nice.

We began our rounds with a visit to Summa and Bucka. The kids ran around the gravestones and we snacked and chatted, deciding that GG#2 has Bucka’s eyes, except his were blue and hers are hazel. Bringing photos of the dead is part of the ritual. GG#1 may be the only one in her school to wear her art project in a culturally appropriate place.

We spent winter holidays with Klink and Harriette for the 16 years we lived in St. Paul; they were extra grandparents to our girls and we were children they never had. Klink died shortly after we moved to Maine. Michael drove back to visit Harriette every six weeks. She was living in her own house when we moved to Wisconsin after Clyde died. I held her hand as she died. They are all so much a part of us still.

Harriette would always say, “Oh, I sound like Hartwig” if she asked how much something cost or where we got it. It wasn’t until we began visiting the Cushing graveyard that I figured out that he was her uncle. In an odd way, a part of Hartwig lives on with us.

We go to Cushing to visit Cleone (Nonie) and Ralph. They used to live in Elk River, MN, which is also where there is a county jail. Many of my clients were kept there pre-trial. When I would go to visit the jail, Michael would drive me and then go and visit Ralph and Cleone. Michael and his brothers would spend time at Ralph and Cleone’s as boys, going fishing and running rampant. They were dear friends with Summa and Bucka. Nonie brought Ralph back to Cushing with her in death to be with family (note the extra photos!) We always bring them Manhattans, which is what Summa said they served at holiday parties.

Here’s to you, Nonie and Ralph. Aunt Harriette told so many stories of her and Nonie going fishing or picking berries. Cleone died years before Harriette did, but she was always by Harriette’s side.

The little ones play peekaboo, hide and seek, and run races. Holidays are always much more joyful with children creating chaos. I can only imagine all of the laughter shared by generations that came before. We may only visit once a year, but so many live in our hearts all year round.

Construction journal: buttoning up for winter

Score: 3 old windows down; 2 new windows up; 1 old window and 1 new window to go. Siding up on all but one side of our six sided house. (Think L shape.)

The problem with repairing the outside is that the insulation in certain walls was rotted due to leakage. Bad windows. Poorly installed vent. Holes in walls.

See that pipe running through the wall behind the toilet? That used to drain the washing machine when it was a 3 season cabin. When Michael’s folks added water protection by having a basement put under part of the original house, water draining through an outside wall would freeze. They had a new drain pipe installed away from the wall, but didn’t get rid of the original drain pipe. This means that there was a BIG hole in the wallboard and no vapor barrier…which is a recipe for condensation and mold. Yep. We removed wallboard to put up new insulation and then replaced the wallboard. BTW, the wall with the toilet paper hanger will be torn down, the bathroom will go elsewhere, and this will become a laundry room.

And yes, it was very tricky getting the wallboard out from behind the toilet, and tricky getting it back in. I used a vice grips plyer to take the screws out from behind the commode.

Getting the wallboard out from the washer drainpipe area required removing the one running through the wall, capping it off in the basement, and sneaking new wallboard into an area that has no nailing surface due to the way the wall was simply slapped up against the outside wall without a nailer installed inside the wall. We will have to remove the wallboard in this area again when we take down the wall behind the washer. We will tape the unsecured joints to seal that wall until we start the interior renovation of this area. Such are the delights of working on a house in which you are living.

We still need to move the LP gas piping so we can install the dryer in that area where Michael is facing. You can see the dryer vent down there at the bottom.

In order to open the dryer door once it has moved into the small bathroom, we need to remove the old shower surround. It feels so good to be getting rid of this shower. It always leaked (the subflooring will have to be replaced due to water damage), was a death trap for Irene (it has a 7” step to get in and she fell more than once trying to get out), and was too small to be able to bend down to wash your feet (Irene’s feet needed a lot of care when we arrived).

We got insulation and wallboard up in the orange room too. Michael commented on how much brighter the room seems with a white wall. Clyde and Irene tended to paint all surfaces with dark colors, and then never had overhead lighting. Irene loved curtains, so the windows they had were always covered. It made for very dark spaces. And mold. This probably explains my efforts to open up the floor plan, have windows and doors aligned so you can see from one end of the house to the other, and have as few window coverings as possible.

“In spite of ourselves, we’ll be sitting at the end of the rainbow; against all odds, honey you’re the big door prize…”. John Prine. We face a certain amount of challenges, but this is so worth the effort.

Harvest journal: pressing apples

We pressed almost 14 gallons of apple cider this past weekend. We could press that much more if we picked all the apples from our trees. We have neither the space nor the desire. Cold weather has finally come.

We started with the Harralsons. Michael had picked a bunch and we pressed all that he picked, so we picked some more.

The Middle Grand Girl lent a helping hand throughout the process. The OGG (original grand girl) woke up with a stiff neck, so mostly watched.

By the end of day, she felt well enough to pick her favorite pumpkin and haul it away. Michael has since transferred the squash and pumpkins into their basement home for the winter. The next day (yesterday), Michael and I pressed another 5 gallons of Honey Crisp. The cider is now gently fermenting away, except for the juice we kept to drink immediately.

We celebrated the end of cidering with some pear cider (it is fizzy!), kielbasa, potato dumplings, and sauerkraut.

I made my kimchi and delivered some to a friend. She shares my love for duck liver pate and spicy food. I’ve been having kimchi with my egg and toast for breakfast every day. I added some of my leeks to the mix this year. Mmmmmmm.

Fall, in all its glory.

Season journal: first frost

30° this morning.

Fog in the river valley.

The houseplants all came in last night, after getting a trim.

Along with the very last tomatoes…

…eggplants…

…green beans…

…peppers, potatoes, jalapeños…

…and leeks.

Michael planted garlic today.

The pumpkin vines died.

As did the eggplants and peppers. The leeks survived splendidly.

Butter and eggs are the last wildflowers to hang on.

Morning light becomes long.

Birds flock.

Corn cobs tip downward, where they can stay dry all winter if need be.

Harvest moon, and the farmers really do use this extra light.

We have so much to celebrate.

We raise a glass of elderberry wine to the end of summer. (And yes, it is divine!)