Snow Day!
October 26, 2011 § Leave a comment
The snow fell in heaps! Small flakes are still moving in an unassuming, steady drift down to the ground, where they gather one after another to make piles worthy of boots and snowplows. The red maples and yellow aspens wear white cloaks, now – what a contrast the colors make! And the ornamental apple tree a few feet from my patio looks positively festive, all red and silver and frosty, boughs bent in arches towards the ground. I keep spontaneously wanting to sing Christmas carols, but it is still far too early for that.
T. and I dashed about a bit in the snow, less than she would like, as I was lazy and cozy and not as productive as I ought to have been with all my free time (but it is my day off, isn’t it?). While we were out in the yard I looked over to see that the roads are clear, which is a good thing, as I am about to make my way to the horse barn to find out how my hoofed friends have been handling the day, and to warm them up with hay and grain. I think I will tote Miss T. along with me to hang out until we’re done getting everyone fed . . . and then we might go over to see what the lake looks like all snowed upon.
If I had my camera, I would show you. Instead I might have to resort to words. Funny to think how long I relied upon words only to convey an image, and how quickly it became natural to snap the shot instead. Maybe this is a good challenge, to leave the camera alone for awhile, to sharpen up the pen just a bit.
I hope you are all enjoying your Wednesdays, whether snow-deep or Indian summer warm or on the drizzly-and-dreary side. Have a spot of tea as the day winds down. And lift that steaming cup, mug, or jar to the world and its weather.
(Incidentally: for those of you who, like me, think it’s great to drink out of Mason jars, you’ve got to check this out: one of my favorite blogs is Cold Antler Farm, and Jenna, the author/farmer, is hosting a pretty creative contest. I’m not convinced I’ve got the skills necessary to enter, but some of you might have!)
First taste of winter
October 25, 2011 § Leave a comment
At the farm we harvested everything we could today, the last-chance grab at saving what we might before the weather overtakes the rest. The fields look bare, but the shed is full of tomatoes, peppers, kohlrabi, eggplant, fennel, celery, collards, chard, even some cosmos and cornflower.
At the horse barn we blanketed nearly all the horses as the blue-gray gathered in the west. The barn manager and a few boarders came out to help us – oh, the blessing of extra hands! The day’s sunny afternoon had turned to rainy evening and it was important to quickly have everyone covered so that they’d be dry when the real cold blew in.
And just now, after listening to a few hours of drizzle, I stepped onto the patio and saw the first snowflakes. I had heard they wouldn’t fall until midnight, but I know that swirl beneath the streetlight. That is snow.
Cold will settle into this region all day tomorrow. Fortunately I get to stay inside most of the day. Job hunting, writing, editing, planning with the company of my dog and my roommate’s new nine-week-old puppy. 6-12 inches is supposed to come, and I imagine I’ll keep doing double-takes as I look out the window. We shall see; sometimes they are wrong.
But if they are right, this is the best day of the week for the first snow in my little world. The day I get to work and rest and play on my time. The day I might take a few minutes to run outside and remember the fun of the first snowfall. Warmth is supposed to return to the Front Range soon after this day-and-a-half of blustery weather, so I imagine everything will melt away quickly. No matter. Enjoy what you have in the moment you have it, I say.
So right at this moment: I am enjoying the little puppy sleeping beside me. A comfortable sweater. A blue mug. And the restful feeling of a quiet evening, after a hard-work day, with no alarm clock to be set for the following morning.
Catch this breath
October 24, 2011 § 2 Comments
Yellow against a blue sky. Fall out here is mostly yellow with a few dashes of red. I am thrilled with the fiery maples outside my apartment, like red candle flames flickering in the wind. The wind hasn’t blown them out. Yet. But already small leaves lie in the grass, and more will follow, one after another, as always, as the seasons fulfill themselves.
This week’s fall happinesses: Orange spice black tea. Maple syrup popcorn balls. Pumpkins, big and small, orange and white, smooth and bumpy. A warm mug of coffee in cold morning hands. My caramel-golden dog in the afternoon light, her coat complementing the fall colors as if she belongs with them, and so she does.
This is a passing moment. Such a beloved season of the year for so many people, including me, and I keep thinking about how I’ve got to take a picture of this tree, that barn, this week – or the season’s colors and textures might be gone. I am having camera troubles again – a new one may need to be on the Christmas list this year, or baby brother might need to have a look at this one the next time that I get to see him. Meanwhile it is instinctive for me to want to stop and get a shot, and frustrating to be unable to. And yet, can I turn this around and make it a good thing? Yes. I can pause a moment longer not for a photograph but for me. To notice with my own eyes, to linger to find the details, to take the time to capture these things not in a digital form but in my memory.
Yesterday Miss T. and I stopped by Coot Lake, just before sunset faded into twilight. The water looked deep blue in the shade, but in the open its peaks were lit white by the sun. A flock of ducks floated around near the shore, black silhouettes under the glowing leaves. We walked a path of gold and red, beneath arching limbs, and everything felt at once lit-up and cloaked in shadow.
The path takes you down to the reservoir, and T. and I skidded down the side of a slope and meandered through the drained, patterned surface where the water had receded. Far from the water the ground had already turned crusty, forming a series of solid little bumps and ridges. Closer to the water the ground became mud, also rippled but interrupted with a few trails of paw prints. Light rested on the surface of the water, making it silvery-white with the intensity of the low sun, just about to dip behind the mountains. A flock of geese lingered beyond, their necks long and graceful and black, their wings folded against their bodies as they floated in one group. Miss T. glanced at them, skipped a few feet in the water, watched as they lifted off to settle a few yards further from her, the potential predator.
The dog came back to sidle past me with her tennis ball, her eyes meeting mine all dark and glad. I tell myself this is why I need to bring her out to run and play more often. She is an animal, and though I am terribly glad she is my domesticated darling, it is good that she has a few moments of freedom, a few more sniffs at what is wild. I know I need this. These are evenings of remembering what to connect to. Where we are from.
The weather websites are predicting snow for Wednesday. Everyone speaks caution, prepares for changes in routine. I love snow and am not generally growly upon winter’s arrival – I tend to open my wool-clad arms and mittened hands to it! But the fall of these past two weeks has been so perfect, just absolutely what one wishes for, and I feel the need to cling to it for awhile.
It feels like I’m holding my breath. Stay. Stay, just a little longer.
Today and tomorrow
October 18, 2011 § Leave a comment
Today has been a perfect fall day. The kind where you put on and take off layers depending on how much wind there is, and whether you happen to be in the sun or the shade. T and I lingered outside this long morning, while I browsed jobs online and entertained dreams and occasionally tossed her orange tennis ball. The light was just like fall light ought to be.
The farm is winding down, and quickly. Several frosts have come, and plants are beginning to die. I might have flowers to take to the market this week, and I might not. But there are shelves full of all kinds of varieties of pumpkins and squash, and bunches of cornstalks for sale at the farm stand. Afternoons we will cut down finished plants and shell dried beans. I have small plates and container lids spread out on the counter, drying seed. In the evenings I soak in the bathtub and circle vegetable and fruit and flower varieties from the Seed Savers Exchange catalogue with a Sharpie marker, already excited for next year.
But today, this perfect day, I need to remember what comes before the next farm season. I’m filling out application forms for temporary Christmas jobs (admittedly I actually kind of enjoy retail – it’s fun helping people find just the right thing, especially during this cheery holiday time, and the fast pace makes the days go quickly). I’m looking for full-time jobs that might start after that, ideally ones that I can do during the day while putting together plans for my own farm. I’m sometimes anxious. I’m mostly calm. Even struggle and change and waiting can produce a fine harvest. I wonder what winter will bring? And next year? Oh, today. One of those days where you juggle loving the present with hopes for the future.
Salt and sugar
October 11, 2011 § 1 Comment
The perfect crust still eludes me. I’ve succeeded perhaps once or twice. This time? I grabbed the 1/2 tablespoon measure instead of the 1/2 teaspoon measure (in my defense, the only marking left on the spoon is “1/2”) and subsequently ended up dumping in too much salt. A peach galette with a salty, rather than sweet, crust. It doesn’t taste too badly if you break off some of the more crusty bits. And the smell of hot peaches is still perfect and lingering in the air.
On a better note, I have been the lucky recipient of good and unexpected gifts lately. Kind words have been spoken to and over me, in places here and there. A coworker handed me a peach ripe from the Palisades. A boss gave me a box of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. And my roommate decorated our whole apartment with a variety of charming, adorable pumpkins. These acts of generosity, gentleness, and appreciation end up making me approach the world differently. I feel cared for. It’s natural that a full, warmed spirit will go on to offer warmth and kindness more easily to others. Or at least try.
A quiet, joyful self is something I have learned to treasure, and to aim to maintain for as long as I can. Tonight my roommate and I will have fried green tomatoes, sweet corn, and cherry pie for dinner. There is a bouquet of flowers from the market still looking pretty on the table. The aspens outside are going gold and the breeze is almost always cool these days. These are the things that are beautiful in my world, at the moment. What’s good in yours?
Waiting for frost
October 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
We check the weather every day. When the frost comes, everything changes, and quickly. What will survive – and for how long? What won’t?
Growers and producers set up farmers’ markets and CSA shares around specific dates, carefully defined growing seasons. But the frost makes the real call as to how long the farm will continue to be in production.
Do we humans control nature? Sometimes, and sometimes too much. But the weather reminds us that in the grand scheme of things, we have to fit within the earth’s habits and patterns. We can make the most of them, and adapt to them. We can use such things as hoop houses and greenhouses and row covers and mulches for the fields, sheds and heat lamps and straw and water holes and fans for the livestock, to support better and longer growth and survival. But we can’t force nature’s hand. We have to follow it, and pay attention to it. Sometimes we hate it. We learn to respect it.
My grad school friend Mae Rose Petrehn talks all the time about grazing practices, and holistic management in particular. (She’s currently grazing several hundred sheep on a ranch in Nebraska.) Here’s a link to an article in The Atlantic about cattlemen who are looking at new (old) ways of having ruminants on the land, grazing in a way that emulates how nature would have it done in the wild, in order to restore landscapes in addition to producing food.
Lisa M. Hamilton writes: “The basic premise of holistic management is to use livestock like wild animals. But whereas bison on the Great Plains moved through the landscape by instinct, now ranchers must supply that direction. Rather than simply turning cattle into a pasture, these ranchers conduct them like a herd, concentrating bodies to graze one area hard, then leaving it until the plants have regenerated. The effect can be tremendous, with benefits including increased organic matter in the soil, rejuvenation of microorganisms, and restoration of water cycles.”
Read the article! The Brown Revolution: Increasing Agricultural Productivity Naturally.
There is a kind of tension that can exist when one’s livelihood and/or survival depends on nature. But we are kidding ourselves if we think that only applies to some people. It applies to all of us, as nature’s resources feed, clothe, and shelter us – even if we have so distanced ourselves from the process of production that we forget this reality. So we would be wise to explore the tension, to avoid the downfall of domination, and to move as much as we can towards harmony.
Garden vegetable soup, greens on toast, and getting things done
October 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
This has been a Tuesday for doing things. Running down the checklist with some kind of strange enthusiasm. Bathroom cleaned. Laundry in the machines. Dishwasher running. Phone calls made. Library card obtained – and first book checked out! (I will finish it.) Mail sent and retrieved. Dog fed and walked, lying contentedly under the table on the patio.
Can’t you tell she loves having her picture taken? Really?
Then I felt so satisfied with myself and my use of time that I waltzed out to the swimming pool because, yes, on this 5th of October it is still hot enough. I sat there with my big floppy hat and a magazine all by myself in that quiet, clean little pool area and felt oddly like some rich girl in her private, swanky back yard.
After a while of appreciating the warmth of the sun and the cool of the breeze and my newly painted toenails (another item checked off the list), I slipped in the water for a swim in that empty turquoise pool. A few lazy laps, the whole expanse just for me.
Aaah, Tuesdays. I have the whole morning and afternoon free, and it’s so nice to catch up on the important and routine things, and then have a pleasurable rest moment in between all the work of all the other days. Especially now that I’ve crammed Thursdays full, too. The cramming is good, and necessary. But so is the down time.
All refreshed back at the apartment I realized I’d forgotten to eat lunch. 4:00 p.m. and I’d need to leave to feed horses in 45 minutes! Fortunately, the soup I’d made a few days before sat in the fridge. I heated it up, made some toast, threw on some toppings, and sat down at the table.
I read my book, and ate my lunch, and went off to work. Even more satisfied.
—–
RECIPE: Garden Vegetable Soup
Ingredients:
4 cups beef broth + 4 cups water
Chopped veggies of whatever is in season: I used some eggplant, medium-hot and/or sweet peppers, Swiss chard, summer squash, arugula, and carrots. (about 3-4 cups)
Rice (about 1 cup uncooked)
Salt to taste
Directions:
My method is, honestly, to throw everything together and let it simmer until all the vegetables are tender. You can just cook the rice in with the broth and vegetables, but be aware if you use brown rice this will require a longer simmer time (about 45 minutes) and you may want to add extra water. I decided to add the brown rice AFTER I’d simmered the vegetables and broth, so I cooked the rice on its own and then mixed it in with everything else. If you use winter squash, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and/or beets you’ll want to chop them smaller and/or put them in the broth first, then add the rest of the vegetables about 15-20 minutes later.
RECIPE: Toast with Farmer’s Cheese, Arugula, Swiss chard, and Bell Pepper
And that’s what it is. Toast the bread, spread on the cheese, pile on the arugula and Swiss chard, then slice the pepper and layer it on the top. I used a chocolate bell pepper, which is nice and sweet.
So long, September
September 30, 2011 § 3 Comments
I will send September out in high style this Friday night, with a long bath and Country Living, re-warmed homemade chicken soup with rice, and an early bedtime.
But first, here is the John Keats poem I feel the need to re-read and remind everyone of this time of year. You may want to put on your literary thinking cap since it’s all old language and meter and rhyme, but it’s a gorgeous piece and worth the time. Can’t you just imagine England in the fall? I was there in the gloomy winter/spring, but I can imagine. And I’m remembering so many pastoral paintings, hanging on the walls of European museums, by artists whose names I wrote down on scraps of paper, and shoved in my pockets, and inevitably lost.
—–
To Autumn
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Delays & anticipation
September 29, 2011 § Leave a comment
Well. It is the second-to-last day of September and I am a brooding a bit for several reasons:
1. I love September. It’s my favorite month and it’s almost over. A whole year of waiting for it again . . . it feels kind of like finishing a favorite book. Satisfying, except you’re not ready to be done with it yet. (This is of course referring back to the days when I read books.)
2. I set many goals over the last few weeks – and shared them – and have not even come close to reaching them! Such as getting up early to walk the dog, biking to work, and reading through The Vegetable Garden Problem Solver (re-set that goal: if I’m through the book by next February I can be content). Am I lazy? Or am I asking too much of myself? Grr, me.
3. The exciting September News that I hinted at earlier has to be pushed to . . . October, maybe. Stalling on my own part has something to do with this, but there are other factors. Sometimes things have to take on their own life and timeline, and that’s sort of what this is. So – hang in there, me and you.
Still. I can shake myself out of this brood (a little). Because on this second-to-last day of September I also have some very good things to look forward to:
1. We’re having a party at the farm! A potluck-style crawfish bash thanks to my boss and her Southern roots. This Saturday night. (I’d better take a nap between the farmers’ market and the party, come to think of it.) If you’re my friend and you live here and you want to come, let me know – the more the merrier!
2. I am happy to announce that I will be attending and blogging for/about the Carolina Farm Stewardship Associaton’s Sustainable Ag Conference in Durham, NC! It’s taking place November 12-13, but I’ll get there early to check out the area and participate in some pre-conference activities. More details on that later, but if any readers are in the area and/or attending the conference I’d love to know.
3. Change comes with the seasons, when you work on a farm. It scares me but I also need to acknowledge how lucky I am to mix up my schedule and my life; to have new experiences and opportunities for learning; to make new friends and new discoveries. Come November my world is going to shift, and I don’t know how far – it could be very far, or not far at all – but I get to ride out that shift. And write it out. (Thanks for reading!)
4. There will be more time set aside for writing books. I may not be reading about vegetables as I should, but book ideas have been be coming out of my ears lately. So it seems weird to look forward to this, but I am excited about jotting down the thoughts and the plots. I’ve already started, and it’s only going to get better. Winter seems to be more of my writing season, especially poetry and fiction, and I can’t help but feel glad about dark quiet nights by the fireplace, shutting out the buzz and hum of everything else so that the imagination can do its thing.
5. And finally: baby brother is getting married. I love/hate weddings but the love part of them is what I aim to focus on. The event planner in me wants to know all the details. The budding photographer in me can hardly wait to capture all the gorgeous moments that will be had. At first the news came as a surprise but now the idea is getting more and more fun. I am hoping for the utmost of happiness for them.
So then. There are delays and disappointments and the passing of time, and there are joys and excitements in the passing of the time.
It’s life, eh?
And here is a delicious Etsy blog post I wanted to share, to sweeten this slightly moody post of my own: How to Make Chocolates. Check out the deal you can get on the cookbook! Yum. We are moving into the season of decadence.
Variations on a BLT
September 27, 2011 § 2 Comments
Yes, still more tomatoes. And still greens. The lettuce and arugula look lovely, and we keep holding onto them long as we can before the weather gets too cold.
I am waiting today on things that make me both anxious and hopeful. Some explanations may come in early to mid-October, but for now I am keeping quiet and making sure to try and choose decaf coffee. Saying more prayers than usual. Reminding myself, You have much to give. Go confidently.
And it’s funny, but eating helps. I don’t mean the desperate emotional eating (yes, of course, I’ve been there), but rather good eating that offers something else to focus on. Something to make, successfully, artistically, with enjoyment.
One of the nice things about bacon is that I can open a package and have decent single-person servings of meat over the next few days, in an assortment of ways. (It’s lazy, but I sometimes feel annoyed when I make a big ol’ roast and of course can’t eat it all, and have to take the time to cut it up and store it and then feel pressured to eat it when really, roast once a week is good enough for me. At least there is the freezer.)
A former Iowa State classmate, Marissa Landrigan, is celebrating bacon this week at her blog, We*Meat*Again, which is a funny coincidence since I’ve been on a bacon streak this past week myself. Have a look at what she’s up to! And here are a few new ways you might enjoy a classic sandwich:
1. My new favorite tomato is called the Cherokee Purple. When I first bit into it I couldn’t help thinking how remarkable it would be on a BLT – it seems like it wants to be paired with meat in general, and bacon in particular. Instead of lettuce, though, I paired the bacon and tomato with Swiss chard and arugula. So I guess that makes it a BASCT. Slather mayonnaise on some whole wheat bread and there you have it.
2. Remember the sourdough I got at the market last weekend? Time to cut in. I always feel like sourdough wants to be toasted . . . but I don’t have a toaster (I know, I know!) . . . so I popped the bread in the oven for a few minutes while the bacon sizzled on the stove. Put lots of mayo on one slice, and some soft Colorado farmer’s cheese (check out Rocking W) on the other slice, and in between, thick slices of a yellow Persimmon tomato, more Swiss chard, and of course the meat. This one may have been my favorite. The farmer’s cheese in there was divine!
3. This morning I awoke hungry and with a headache, so I went for a hearty BLT breakfast of the gluten-free variety. I took the basic ingredients (Romaine lettuce, bacon, and a red Zapotec tomato) and piled them together over a corn tortilla, then topped it off with some basil leaves and blooms (our basil is going to seed – and you can eat the flowers if you like). It was good, but I have to admit something seemed to be missing. Next time I think I’d add feta to give it more of a salty bite. Maybe even salsa. Or an egg. And break up the bacon so it’s easier to eat with a fork. Improvements can only be made if you’re willing to try things, right?
With my plate full, I popped open my computer to watch a good show, paged through a magazine, and ate up. It helped to have this moment in this time. You give a gift to yourself when you eat nourishing, delicious food. Really, the world is giving a gift to you, and you’re accepting it, appreciating it, and equipping yourself to give back.
Kinds of Honey 