Finally, fruit!

Blueberries!  Raspberries!  Apples!  (Oh my!)

So the story with fruit around here is a dual one.  On one hand, there were two diseased, unidentified, and rather puny apple trees in our backyard when we moved in four summers ago.  One, we chopped down; I don't think there was any pruning drastic enough to make a productive tree, and it was very unhealthy.  The second tree I pruned.  And pruned.  And then wondered if I'd gone too far and almost cut it down.

My first clue that waiting another year was the right idea appeared this spring, when the tree bloomed.  We'd had a handful of blooms each previous year, but this time the tree was covered in the pretty, fragrant pink & white blossoms.  The bees and other buzzing insects approved tremendously.

 I was still skeptical, however, because in earlier years the blossoms had eventually dropped and the tiny fruits disappeared not long after--I never knew where or why.   So I waited some more, without many expectations.

And now there are golf-ball sized green apples covering the tree, heavy enough already to drag the branches several feet below their usual height.  Many of them have a hole or spot or other imperfection, so we may not end up with a huge crop to eat from the tree--but there's always cider or cider vinegar to try.  Either way it will be fun to guess the variety when they ripen and to learn more about our tree as the season continues and we see how the fruit holds up to insects and disease without any intervention on our part.

The other side of the fruit coin around here are the berries:  blueberry bushes we planted and have been waiting to get established, a wild raspberry thicket I've been encouraging in the back corner of our yard, and--of course--the mulberries.  This is the first summer for fruit of any note from either the blueberries or raspberries, and it is incredibly gratifying to stroll the yard for a snack. 

We amended the soil pretty heavily for the blueberries, which need a much more acidic soil that we have in Indiana, and then they didn't get the attention they deserved last summer during the drought.  We did water them, but just not as often as we probably should have, and I wasn't sure what we would see from the plants this year.  Well, we have berries!  Big, sweet blue ones.  Just enough for eating, with no pressure to get out jam jars or freezer containers.  This was worth the wait and the extra effort, and now I am re-energized to continue giving them acidic treats and to do some careful pruning.  Can't wait to have bags in the freezer and blueberry pancakes and muffins in the winter!

The wild raspberry is a black raspberry, and  I have been hoping it would take hold for several reasons.  The fruit is one, of course, which isn't as big as domesticated versions, but is still tasty.  Plus, I like to have a few thorny plants on the property for wildlife habitat and general diversity.   Wild raspberry is also an important medicinal herb for women, with a tea or infusion of the leaves recommended throughout life and especially during pregnancy.  I will, however, have to monitor this wild friend carefully--the thorns on the established canes are BIG, and the fruit hides on the interior as well as in more easily reached areas.  Comprehensive harvesting would require protective gear...I'll probably just leave what I can't reach painlessly for the birds. 

Finally, there is the neighbor's mulberry tree which has several large branches over our yard.  As a laundry-line aficionado, I live in fear during mulberry season of the big purple bird droppings that inevitably find one of my clean, drying shirts, but I don't consider these trees a nuisance like some do.  I don't like the mess either, but I love the berries, and I love that just about every furred and feathered creature out there also seem rather partial to the humble mulberry.  Every time I glance at the tree, a branch is quivering somewhere while something non-human grabs a bite to eat.  And it is a good bite; why in the world turn up your nose at free food, and sweet food at that?

In fact, we used mulberries in one of the homemade ice creams for our wedding a few weeks back--but more on that next time.  :)

Spring (coop) cleaning...tada!

Ahem.

It's HERE!


(Actually, it's been here for a while now but after such a slow approach that it seemed to creep up almost in disguise.)

I'm talking, of course, about spring.

It has sprung in central Indiana, despite rainy, cool weather until the last few week or so.  All the rain has made for a particularly gorgeous spring, even though it has often been too chilly and wet to be outside enjoying it.

I didn't check, but I'm sure that I've written about our lilacs before.  So I'll just say, that there is particularly wonderful timing between the row of blooming lilacs and the first time each spring when it is warm enough for us to have windows open for days at a time.  The result is that we are given frequent fragrant breezes and live in a sweetly perfumed world, just as it is finally turning green outside.  It is heavenly to be standing in the living room and suddenly watch the curtains flutter and then inhale the sweet, airy, scent like some sort of gift for making it through winter.  Spring is a revelation, every time.
 
Last Sunday was the biannual Great Coop Clean-out, which is a big undertaking, but very satisfying to accomplish.  This one was particularly so, because I decided to use herbs in the fresh straw and nest box, and an orange-cinnamon infused vinegar for spraying down the roost. (Orange peels--I freeze them for later use--cinnamon, and white vinegar.  Ordinarily, I would combine them in a jar with a plastic lid and let it infuse for 4-6 weeks.  Today I was impatient, and so I simmered the mixture for 20 min on low heat instead.  Smells divine.)

I have my methods fine-tuned for our current coop, which always ends, at one point or another, with me silently swearing that our next coop will be fully human-height, so that I never have to crouch or attempt to sustain advanced yoga poses in order to scrub it all down.  Someday, I promise.

In any case, since we use the deep-litter method for our coop, I start by shoveling (as in snow shovel) out the bedding in the base of the coop, depositing it on a tarp until I have a decent pile in the center.  This, I drag around the side of the house to the garden and then roll the composted litter out onto my garden rows or any area where I want to blanket the ground and kill either turf or weeds.  Eventually, I'll either dig this right into the beds, or if it needs more time, transfer it to the compost pile.

Back in the coop, after wielding a shop vac and a screwdriver for any nooks or crannies, I typically have a few stubborn patches left on the linoleum, but that's easily handled by dribbling white vinegar liberally over them.  While that soaks in, I scrub down the walls and ceiling with hot water/vinegar/peppermint castile, and then finally address the floor.  While the coop dries, I mix up more disinfectant and wipe down the outside and clean the nest box. 

Then in goes fresh, clean straw and herbs.  This is the best part...somehow it reminds me a bit of putting crisp, line-dried sheets on the bed and then slipping between them while just from the bath yourself.  The sweet scent of the herbs this time really reinforced the shiny-clean, spring-is-here vibe, at least for the human involved with the experience.

I used lemon balm, mint, and lavender all of which are highly aromatic and should be a tool against mites, flies, and other bugs.  I also have tansy that volunteered in the veggie garden this spring, so I will be adding that for its bug-repelling properties.  The girls seem happy with the fresh straw and a new tree-branch roost, and I am happy to have this task off the list!

Spring chickens

The girls.  

I cannot wait until spring, when we can spend more time with the girls again.  

I want to pin clothes on the line to dry,  I want to shellac the picnic table, and I want to hang out with my chickens. 






I am, apparently, a simple creature.











I am also a bit end-of-winter-cabin-fevered, and we are supposed to get some enormous and much-hyped amount of snow and nasty weather tomorrow.  [Which reminds me. Welcome to my annual battle of wills with late winter:  I may win in the end, but it is usually too close to call during late Feb-early March.  I most always suffer a complete--if temporary--reversal at some point before April arrives.] 

But the chickens are quite sure that spring is here.  Almost overnight everyone perked up, and now combs are bright red, feathers are shiny, and it is time to get out in the yard and patrol the premises. 

Suddenly, eggs are everywhere.  Roxie's laying again and refuses to use the nest box, so there is usually a pale blue egg in the straw underneath it.  Then again, Jason found her recently sitting half out of the box on Ethel, who was squished entirely in the box, so maybe Roxanne is just looking for trouble.  Some of the girls are having fun occasionally using the outside nest box, too, which I keep forgetting to check after no one touched it for months. 


When all of this chicken exuberance appeared, I had a moment of bliss:  Spring really is around the corner.  The girls know; they are my own little assurance.  

I remember one sheltered courtyard on my Minnesota college campus, where a tiny forest of crocus bloomed each spring long before any other area had lost snowcover.  It was a miracle each time.  Turn the corner, look down and--color!  Green leaves, gold and purple flowers.  Hallelujah, winter's lost!

Well, we've got some additional colors to add to the hallelujah 'round here.  Richly orangey-yellow egg yolks, and all shades of brown, black, silver, tan, and deep-red feathered hens.  There are green tips of garlic and daffodils up as well, and the dark brown of the earth is richer and wet with the thaw. 

 



Mmmm.

Almost here.   

Our strange ways

It occurs to me it might be time to revisit how we are doing with some of the weirder embargoes and substitutions around the house that we've adopted in our attempt to live a more sustainable--and frugal--life.

This thought came to me as I was cooking bacon just now.

If you fail to see the connection, then you have never lived in a household with a rule against purchasing paper towels.

I should make one distinction clear:  there is probably a really nifty product out there designed to drain bacon without paper--perhaps a platter with a grill pattern that drains the grease away, or something.  However, my purpose isn't to justify purchasing a bunch of "green" products designed to solve the given problem.  Reusable or not, I believe that we are too easily seduced into buying the next clever environmentally-friendly product.  I say this, not in judgement, but as a fellow perpetrator--believe you me, I could spend our combined incomes in a hot second on any number of websites and catalogs geared toward the green consumer.

But the truth is that anything new has an enormous manufacturing legacy of materials, fuel, and and often cruel labor choices behind it; no matter how many recycling triangles and super-duper green endorsements are on the packaging (the packaging!), it would still have been better, ecologically speaking, to get a used version at a thrift store or make your own out of re-purposed items.

So.  The paper towels.  What do we use instead?

Handsome, but occasionally vomits.

Well, we realized pretty quickly that we use paper towels for three main things:  draining bacon, mopping spills, and cleaning up cat puke.  (Yep.  Just took you from mouth-watering to gagging in one sentence.  Mad skills, I tell ya.)  You might add cleaning windows and mirrors to the list, I suppose, but I can't think of much else.  If you are still using paper towels to wipe down your counters in the kitchen, then please, consider the beauty of a...

...(drumroll, please)...

Rag.

A rag.  A rag is a beautiful thing, simply because it can be made of so many, many other things most of which you would otherwise throw away.  Under duress, I will admit to a bit o' pride in the cardboard box of rags in my laundry room.  It is satisfying to always have one when you need one.  I realize this is weird.

Sock have a hole in the toe?  --Rag.  Grease stain on your skirt?  --Rag.  Almost any item of cotton clothing can be used in place of paper towels.  Cut them up into 12" squares, and there you go.  If you want to get really fancy, you can mix up some cleaning solution out of castile soap, white vinegar or lemon juice, and water, put it in a lidded bucket, and use it to store your rags--just wring one out and clean what ails you.  Old towels are perfect for bigger spills, and cotton jersey works nicely on windows and mirrors too.

But back to my bacon.

I have two substitutes for paper when I want to drain bacon.  First, is a square of fabric from an old t-shirt.  Between uses, I suds it up with dishwashing detergent (which cuts grease better than regular soap), rinse, and let it air dry.  Not all of the grease is removed but enough for my comfort level; we probably use the same cloth over a period of 4-6 months or more before I throw it away.

If you aren't comfortable reusing a cloth like that, then why not at least give a second life to paper grocery bags that are likely lurking under your kitchen sink?  A plate-sized square of brown paper drains bacon too--and if you are feeling particularly virtuous, save the greasy paper and use it the next time you start a cozy fire in the fireplace. (Consider the humble grocery bag for many things...rustic gift wrap and gift tags are another common use around here.)

[So, bacon and spills are handled with cloth rag, blah blah blah.  I mentioned cat vomit also.  Well, I draw the line there.  I refuse to reuse anything that addresses vomit--the whole situation is too gross.  I realize that this is illogical.

Instead, I use...junk mail.  Mmm hmm.  I take a credit card offer in one hand, and a stiff-papered catalog or flyer in the other, and I use the envelope to scrape up the yuck on to the flyer and then throw it all away. Then I spray the spot with cleaner and mop up any residue with a rag.  I'm sure you were dying to hear about all that.]

Used rags of all sorts tend to wait for the next washday on top of the dryer, but you might want to give them a box or bucket in which to be stored until you do laundry, just to keep things tidy. 

Ready to cut up some old shirts and towels?  Want to get really obsessed and make rugs out of them?  Perfect. 

Tis a gift to be simple...tis a gift to be free

Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day, 

with no mistakes in it yet?

 -Anne Shirley

I don't know about you, but 2012 has been a doozy of a year around here.  Good and bad, yes, but a challenge on many fronts for me.  New year's resolutions are not a tradition of mine, but somehow I am drawn to the idea a bit.  Perhaps this is a way of petitioning the universe to honor my bargain--if I start fresh, then it will too?   

I have been pondering the older, seasonal truths that make up the fabric of this time, the juxtaposition of the darkest, longest nights with our ancient faith that sun and warmth will come again.  I am fascinated by our stubbornness and the small, silent light that persists and nests defiantly in our hearts.

Christmas was good this year, filled with family that I see too infrequently.  There was a whole crop of new babies this time, snuggled little baby birds tucked here and there in the crook of an arm, alongside lots of good food and laughter.  My heart, usually so capable of absorbing it all, is tender and easily overwhelmed this year, and my eyes a bit leaky.  It is strange and poignant to hear my dad's voice when my brother sings a carol, the echo of my nephew's childish giggle when his son laughs at a joke.  It is weird and lovely and staggering to love all of these people and belong to them and accept the risks that such loving brings.

Of all the things that I didn't get around to, I was able to whip up a few goodies to give away, and my favorite of the bunch is the new recipe for hand and body cream that I've been making lately.  This recipe is from Making It: Radical Home Ec for a Post-Consumer World, and the cream is rich and luxurious.  It goes on a bit shiny but quickly absorbs.  Best of all, it has five ingredients, all of them pronounceable.

 Coconut-Vanilla Cream
6 oz olive oil
2 oz coconut oil                                                                
1 oz beeswax (grated or chopped fine preferred)                         
                                                                                                      
1 cup tepid water, filtered or distilled is best
essential oils as desired (I used a splash of vanilla extract)

Tools:  Blender or hand mixer, Mason jar, sauce pan, spatula, empty jars

Combine the oils and beeswax in a wide-mouth mason jar and set the jar in a small saucepot with several inches of water over low heat.  Stir occasionally as the beeswax melts.

Prepare a blender or deep mixing bowl by filling with boiling water to warm the container.  Have the cup of water and any essential oils mixed and ready.  Dump out the hot water and immediately pour in the hot oil mixture. Turn the blender on the lowest setting or start mixing the oil with a hand mixer.  Slowly pour the water into the middle of the oil.  The mixture will quickly turn to cream and the blender will start to rev and be unable to continue incorporating the water.  Stop the blender, scrape down the sides and mix with a spoon, then turn the blender on again.  Repeat until the mixture is smooth and the water fully incorporated.

If the cream is still liquid enough, pour into clean jars.  If not, scoop it out with a spoon.  Tamp down the jars to eliminate air bubbles.  Let cool, add labels, and enjoy!



Many delightful blessings to you and yours in the new year.