Wood. Work.

Of all the things that I have tried for the first time since last July, I have discovered a secret affection for--surprisingly--construction.  Specifically, turning the mound of free scrap wood we've amalgamated via Freecycle and Craigslist into structures that we would otherwise have to buy.

I'd prefer, honestly, not to have the rather ugly pile of variously-sized planks cluttering the backyard.  The pile is next to the pallet-enclosed compost heap and just around the corner from the camper-top that came with our good ol' pick-up truck and will probably never be used.  This trifecta does not a pretty corner of the yard make.  (Although it does add a certain farm-yard charm, I tell myself...certainly in no way reminiscent of washing machines on front porches or cars on blocks in driveways.)


And so, I have tried my hand at building stuff.  I can't deny the fun, for me, of thinking through a project, researching how others have done something similar, even sketching some ideas in my garden notebook prior to commencing.  There is a tangible geometry involved that stretches my brain in long-forgotten ways--how best to configure that or reinforce this.

Strangely, it is equally satisfying to go about the sweaty, dusty, heavy work of making my ideas turn into wooden realities.  By the end, I am dirty to a degree that I haven't been since childhood, and usually bleeding or scratched or pounded somewhere for good measure.  For some reason these projects never occur to me during cool weather, so I'm also dripping sweat even as I waste long minutes dragging the sawhorses around the yard in pursuit of shade.  It's very testosterone-y and alarmingly enjoyable...it makes me think about assigning value to my labor, about putting in the work and effort for us, rather than for a paycheck.  I tell you, it's anarchy with a circular saw.

[Honestly, can you tell I'm a pastor's kid with the sermons I get to preaching?] 


So far, these have been small projects, although visions of greenhouses dance in my head (a kitschy, ramshackle one, constructed from new wood but old, charming windows, perhaps with, as Jason says, a Partridge Family bus color-scheme.)  But I digress.  If someone with any slight iota of true carpentry skill and understanding were to look at my work, they would most likely grin and pat me on the head kindly.


Yet I don't care if my outcomes fall far short of true woodworking, if they are closer to bonfire offerings than works of art.  It is undeniably satisfying to create a piece of furniture for free.  I have all the time in the world to become a master woodworker, if I choose.  For now, this rather utilitarian ability is a pleasant surprise and learning process all in one. Not too long ago, I wasn't creating anything, in any aspect of my life--I had Jason, great friends, a fun pad, and a decent job that I tolerated to greater and lesser degrees, but I wasn't actually making anything.  Now I make stuff daily, all kinds of things.  Cool.

So.  (Ahem.)  Since last August, I've built the girls' run and their coop, the coldframe, a small table/stand, and a bench.  I've had much appreciated help along the way, too--Christiana & Jason.... And since so much of this wood is second-hand and warped a bit, I just blame the wood rather than my breezy measuring if there are any, um, quirks, in the final product.  :)

When life hands you 100+ degree weather, make lemonade (?)

As much as I try to eat locally, there are many obstacles in the way--olive oil, flour, avocados and so many other basics are difficult or impossible to source close to Indy, or prohibitively expensive if you can.  And lately, with the oppressive heat and humidity, I've been craving lemonade.  There are times when water just doesn't do it, I want the bright sweet-tart flavor, I want it ice-cold-- and I want the real stuff.  I'm not big on powdered mixes, although I admit that I've not tried many, and lemon trees don't make it through Midwestern winters...sadly.

If they did, I would have already planted a grove because lemons are both delicious to eat and drink and mighty handy for cleaning and laundry.  When we get the greenhouse built, I am determined to buy a dwarf tree and have my own small lemon crop.  Until then, at least they are in season right now...

Since I wasn't sure of the correct lemon-to-sugar ratio, I consulted Allrecipes, one of my favorites for online recipes, and I found this Vintage Lemonade recipe.  After reading that you infuse the sugar in the lemon peels for an hour first, to allow the sugar time to soak up the lemon oil in the rind---I was sold.  While I followed the recipe fairly closely the first time, I decided in today's batch to substitute honey for the sugar.

I use my vegetable peeler to peel only the yellow from the rinds, avoiding the more bitter white pith underneath.  If there is a kitchen chore that smells better than this peeling, I can't think of it.  (Although, come to think of it, baking bread and dealing with the basil crop are certainly in the running.)  Here is the fragrant honey and lemon peel combination, and yes, it smells that good:

The recipe is as follows:

(adapted from allrecipes.com)

Vintage Lemonade
serves 4

5 lemons, organic if possible
1 1/4 c. white sugar  (I used turbinado in my first batch, which made the final product more tan than yellow but completely yummy.  Today, I substituted 3/4 c. honey in place of the sugar.)
1 1/4 quarts water

If your lemons are very hard, roll or pound them the on the countertop to soften slightly and release the juice.  Wash them carefully and dry.  Peel the lemons, yellow part only, with a vegetable peeler into a medium-sized bowl.  Pour the sugar (or honey) over the peels and set aside for an hour.

In the meantime, cut the lemons in half and juice them, straining out seeds (and pulp if you prefer).  When the peels and sugar are ready, heat the water to a boil and pour over the peels.  Stir and let cool for 20 minutes.  Strain or lift the peels out with a slotted spoon.  Pour the sugar mixture into the lemon juice.  Taste for desired sweetness, adding more sugar if needed, and also for intensity--this has a super-lemony flavor, and I can add several more cups of water without diluting it noticeably.  Be sure to add any water slowly, checking the flavor often.  When it is just how you like it, serve over ice and refrigerate the leftovers.

If it's happy hour, add a splash (or three) of a decent vodka and settle down in the shade to watch the sun set over your homestead.  And yes, it's OK to let the chickens try a sip....


In other news, this just in:



When line-drying your clothes outside in the summer, beware the inner mesh lining of your partner's sport shorts.  The built-in undies just might act as a net and catch, say, leaves falling from the tree above.  Then, when your darling, much-loved man puts on his shorts...well...let's just say that they are a little itchy!  (And probably inspired a moment of panic where he wondered just what in the world was doing the tickling!) 




Am I just immature?  Pretty sure he doesn't think this is half as hilarious as I do....

Happy summer days to all.

Summertime

It is ridiculously hot today.  One of those days where I lose any ecological fervor and just want to sit under a sprinkler all day, sipping icy drinks made with fruit from a million miles away.  (Local, schmocal...give me a pineapple-mango smoothie and an avocado on the side for a snack, please.)


I don't, of course, indulge myself this way, but I'd like to.  However, with a heat index of well over 100 degrees, I am doing my best to ease the chickens through the day--they had a watermelon treat this morning, fresh from the refrigerator, and I've been checking their water often.  Last month, I froze the remnants of a fruit salad in a square plastic freezer container, and I decided to sacrifice that to the Girls today too--I ran the container under hot water for a minute so that I could slip the big chunk of frozen juice and fruit into a bowl.  I've created a little chicken-Shangri-La on the (slightly) cooler concrete slab that is shaded by the pergola in the back yard--with their water, food, the frozen fruit, the portable nest box from the outside pen, and a slowly dripping hose.  If Roxie still insists on being a diva with heat stroke, then she can just go ahead!

Roxanne.  Big mouthed hypochondriac

I also harvested garlic today, and was barely in time for some of it.  Last fall, when I planted the cloves, I doubled the size of our garlic beds--and yet after digging it all up today, I am sure we will still run out half way through the winter.  It was hot, HOT work, but I am glad to have it done.  In the process of digging up the bulbs (under the heavy straw mulch that had been fortified by a winter in the chicken coop) I was happy to see a gathering of the biggest earthworms I've yet to discover in the garden.  Huge, huge suckers, all scrambling out of the sun and heat.  It is so nice to see the long, slow work of soil-building beginning to show some progress.  I wish I'd had the preschoolers here to witness these gargantuan, wiggly guys; something tells me they would have been a huge hit.

A few months ago, I noticed a bunch of volunteer sunflower plants coming up under our birdfeeder in the back yard.  Since they were already 18" tall, I decided to transplant them rather than starting my own from seed.  So, I moved them a few feet away along a southern wall of our house and went on to sow seeds from a old-timey flower mix underneath the sunflowers.  My plan was to transform a rather ugly little corner with a riot of blooming color.

One small problem:  the chickens also like this wall as a place for dust baths and sunbathing.  Have I mentioned how quickly the girls can take a patch of green and turn it into a dust-bowl?  In an attempt to give my flowers a chance to become established without the constant interruption of the four chickens of the apocalypse, I used some (rather ugly) metal fencing to barricade the flower beds.  The seedlings flourished behind their fence, while I plotted how to create a more aesthetically-pleasing barrier....

Anyone remember the simple wooden fence I made years ago for my herb garden at the old house?  I got the idea from Gayla Trail's You Grow Girl, and used small branches and sticks to construct a very minimal fence along our sidewalk.  Last week, I decided to finally get rid of the metal stuff and recreate my stick fence--in the hopes of making this corner pretty AND chicken-proof.

The outcome?  Well, definitely a prettier corner than having it be a wasteland of dust baths for the chickens, and the stick-fence is worlds better than the metal stuff.  But chicken-proof?  Please.  Not with my spoiled gang.  Perhaps mildly chicken-deterrent is a better way of phrasing it....