I stumped up to the mailbox today, loaded up my mail bucket with bills and seeds and stuff, stopped by the barn and loosed five or six bales of hay for the big animals, and crept back home. The snow was about six inches deep most places so it was pretty easy going. Didn't fall once, even going up and down the plow berm.
The goats were excited when they saw the bucket (every bucket, even upside down, is full of grain, according to their little pea brains), but were happy enough with hay.
Spent the rest the day fussing with the windowsills (adding salvaged 12x12 stone tiles and moving plants) in prep for the big seed-starta-palooza.
C. split some wood, after wrestling with the quilt project.
Our eight fine hens laid seven lovely eggs.
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Monday, February 27, 2017
Come on, spring!
Got "Congo Square" cranked up on the computer. It's snowing lightly, heading in to a week of warming temps.
We've got a low-grade garden fever. C. started another flat of onions, and I've gathered all the seeds into a fine old vintage suitcase and sorted them into Larrys (accordion folders). Not to be anal or anything. For a slob, though, I can get pretty organized. Maybe twice a year, in small areas. Perhaps the size of a suitcase.
When gardening season is here, C. will stuff her garden apron with various seed packets and rampage around sowing like crazy. If she isn't careful, some will get wet and some will get lost. Seed Central Suitcase is an effort to keep everything together and at hand. And away from mice.
C. has been bugging me to start some sprouts. I resisted at first, but have succumbed. Some kind of fresh green would sure be welcome, for people and for rabbits. And sprouts are incredibly nutritious. I sprouted fodder for the rabbits in a big way three years ago, in nursery trays in the old boys' bathroom, but lost use of the room when the rabbits had to be moved in after a flood.
I rummaged around and found lentils, dill (C. saved over a gallon of dill seed last year), onions and alfalfa for my first effort. Those are quart jars in the photo, with a chunk of nylon curtain acting as permeable lid on the dill. I found this cool website, sprout people.org, that has instructions for sprouting all kinds of seeds and nuts. I know it's not rocket science, but some seeds require extra (or no) soaking, and longer grow times, so I'm glad to have the info. They also sell organic sprouting seeds and seed mixes. I ordered a couple of mixes, since I'm pretty sure we'll all get tired of lentils (I eat lentils only out of a sense of duty) and dill pretty quickly. They even have mixes for dogs! (Yes, I ordered some of that, and the dogs will have to share with me.)
We've got a low-grade garden fever. C. started another flat of onions, and I've gathered all the seeds into a fine old vintage suitcase and sorted them into Larrys (accordion folders). Not to be anal or anything. For a slob, though, I can get pretty organized. Maybe twice a year, in small areas. Perhaps the size of a suitcase.
When gardening season is here, C. will stuff her garden apron with various seed packets and rampage around sowing like crazy. If she isn't careful, some will get wet and some will get lost. Seed Central Suitcase is an effort to keep everything together and at hand. And away from mice.
C. has been bugging me to start some sprouts. I resisted at first, but have succumbed. Some kind of fresh green would sure be welcome, for people and for rabbits. And sprouts are incredibly nutritious. I sprouted fodder for the rabbits in a big way three years ago, in nursery trays in the old boys' bathroom, but lost use of the room when the rabbits had to be moved in after a flood.
 |
| Lentils, left, and dill seeds thinking about sprouting |
C. is working on a quilt for Liam, using some cool animal fabric she got in Montreal. She is cussing furiously. It's not going well. Math has reared its ugly head.
I made blueberry muffins last night, using an old hippie recipe from the Tassajara Bread Book. No surprises here – they're hearty! There's one left – should have doubled the recipe.
Just put a batch of double-chocolate double-pecan brownies in the oven, and am back at the computer trying not to get batter on the keyboard as I lick the spatula. Mmm.
One little egg today. Five yesterday.
Thursday, February 23, 2017
Beautiful day
It's 37 degrees out, and sunny. The forecast calls for rain, but what do they know? But C. says they are right as her shoulder hurts. Arthritis trumps meteorology any day.
Got eight eggs this morning. Good job, girls! Some must have been laid late yesterday after C. collected eggs.
My used four-tube shop light I was rehabbing for plant growing started shooting sparks and buzzing, so I took it right back to the gym. Ain't going to mess with that. The ballasts seem good, so maybe it can be used for parts. So I'm back to scrounging for more lights.
Our seeds from the Ukraine are here. We need to pick up some potting soil. Soon it'll be time to start the tomatoes and peppers.
Got eight eggs this morning. Good job, girls! Some must have been laid late yesterday after C. collected eggs.
My used four-tube shop light I was rehabbing for plant growing started shooting sparks and buzzing, so I took it right back to the gym. Ain't going to mess with that. The ballasts seem good, so maybe it can be used for parts. So I'm back to scrounging for more lights.
Our seeds from the Ukraine are here. We need to pick up some potting soil. Soon it'll be time to start the tomatoes and peppers.
C. made some cottage cheese from scratch the other day. Someone gave us some store-bought 1-percent milk, and she used some soured whole milk to start the culture (buttermilk is the usual starter, I guess). Below, she is cutting the curd, and bottom, straining off the whey. The dogs got the whey with their dinners. She adds a little cream to the finished product. It's a little more pungent than commercial cottage cheese, but good. She knows how to do all that old-timey stuff from her folks, and from living off-grid years ago.
We were admiring Burday's feet the other day. She has a great many toes, like her dad. Weird, huh?
Wednesday, February 22, 2017
Done with town for a while
Earl and I hit Spokaloo for appointments today. I saw my GP, and got my eyes tested. MS can lead to all kinds of eye problems, so it's good to get checked periodically. Plus my bifocals are six years old. So now I have a new prescription for lenses that I'll fill when I have the bucks, and a good report on the health of the old eyeballs. I left with pupils the size of saucers, squinting into the outrageously bright afternoon.
We stopped by the Ancestral Home and gathered some prunings (or "scions") from the three apple trees that C. planted there 25 years ago. I'll try grafting the scions onto new rootstocks from Burnt Ridge nursery in Onalaska, on the coast. My friend Jim, from the garden club, gave me a lesson in apple-tree grafting last spring, but none of mine survived. Jim is an apple evangelist, like Johnny Appleseed. He plants them, gives them away and teaches people how to prune and care for them. Did you know apple seeds when planted revert to tiny sour varieties, so all apple trees have to be grafted? And the rootstock determines the size of the tree, but the grafted bit determines the variety of apple? So a Honeycrisp seed would grow a tree full of small sour fruit, but a Honeycrisp branch grafted onto a dwarf rootstock would grow into a dwarf tree with Honeycrisp apples? Jim and his friends in the Graft and Corruption Squad travel around taking scions from old apple trees on homesteads, and give the trees new life. Pretty cool.
Earl and I were hungry, so we lowered ourselves to eating Burger King fishwiches. Well, I lowered myself. I've seen him eat even nastier things. Can't remember the last time I had fast food. Long time. Didn't kill me right off.
We arrived home knackered in late-afternoon sunshine, and C., bless her heart, unloaded the car.
One egg today.
We stopped by the Ancestral Home and gathered some prunings (or "scions") from the three apple trees that C. planted there 25 years ago. I'll try grafting the scions onto new rootstocks from Burnt Ridge nursery in Onalaska, on the coast. My friend Jim, from the garden club, gave me a lesson in apple-tree grafting last spring, but none of mine survived. Jim is an apple evangelist, like Johnny Appleseed. He plants them, gives them away and teaches people how to prune and care for them. Did you know apple seeds when planted revert to tiny sour varieties, so all apple trees have to be grafted? And the rootstock determines the size of the tree, but the grafted bit determines the variety of apple? So a Honeycrisp seed would grow a tree full of small sour fruit, but a Honeycrisp branch grafted onto a dwarf rootstock would grow into a dwarf tree with Honeycrisp apples? Jim and his friends in the Graft and Corruption Squad travel around taking scions from old apple trees on homesteads, and give the trees new life. Pretty cool.
Earl and I were hungry, so we lowered ourselves to eating Burger King fishwiches. Well, I lowered myself. I've seen him eat even nastier things. Can't remember the last time I had fast food. Long time. Didn't kill me right off.
We arrived home knackered in late-afternoon sunshine, and C., bless her heart, unloaded the car.
One egg today.
Tuesday, February 21, 2017
D'oh again
Yesterday was a holiday, imagine that. A very minor and arbitrary holiday. So my trip to town yesterday was 50 miles in vain. I spent a few minutes in the Group Health parking lot cussing, then picked up four sacks of chicken food and headed home in the rain. Yeah, next time I'll call ahead.
Earl, my copilot, looked pained as I bitched, looked pleased at his giant dog cookie (he always gets a treat when we go driving), and slept all the way home.
We stopped at the barn and loosed five or six bales of hay for the big animals. K. and S. pulled up behind me, bringing the granddogs out again. They are staying with Em temporarily, and Walter and Hazelnut are just too much, on top of Emma's four dogs. Walter came through his mouth surgery very well and is bouncy and happy. Nut is OK with us, but really wants to be home with her people, including that fat little human baby. She really likes that baby. The baby came along, and we passed her around and collected smiles and babbles.
So they are all living in our Ancestral Home, a story-and-a-half 1910 bungalow in town. The plan is for K. and S. to buy the house, and for Em and Richard to buy a rancher somewhere nearby. It needs to happen soon for our financial health. The real estate market is slow right now, but we all go through Zillow and Trulia and Craig's List and some realty sites every day looking for a one-level roomy house with a garage and room for a garden. (Got one for sale between Spokaloo and Chattaroy? Leave me a comment below.)
C. sharpened the chainsaw today and waved it at the logs on the wood pile. I pitched lengths to the porch and stacked them. It's warm and rainy again today, and the snow continues to slowly shrink.
I've been rummaging in the gym for shop lights for seed starting. I found a four-tube 4-foot fixture that is meant to be hard-wired in, and am adding a power cord to it. We want to start more plants than last year, of course.
We finally finalized the last two seed orders.
Four eggs today.
Earl, my copilot, looked pained as I bitched, looked pleased at his giant dog cookie (he always gets a treat when we go driving), and slept all the way home.
We stopped at the barn and loosed five or six bales of hay for the big animals. K. and S. pulled up behind me, bringing the granddogs out again. They are staying with Em temporarily, and Walter and Hazelnut are just too much, on top of Emma's four dogs. Walter came through his mouth surgery very well and is bouncy and happy. Nut is OK with us, but really wants to be home with her people, including that fat little human baby. She really likes that baby. The baby came along, and we passed her around and collected smiles and babbles.
So they are all living in our Ancestral Home, a story-and-a-half 1910 bungalow in town. The plan is for K. and S. to buy the house, and for Em and Richard to buy a rancher somewhere nearby. It needs to happen soon for our financial health. The real estate market is slow right now, but we all go through Zillow and Trulia and Craig's List and some realty sites every day looking for a one-level roomy house with a garage and room for a garden. (Got one for sale between Spokaloo and Chattaroy? Leave me a comment below.)
C. sharpened the chainsaw today and waved it at the logs on the wood pile. I pitched lengths to the porch and stacked them. It's warm and rainy again today, and the snow continues to slowly shrink.
I've been rummaging in the gym for shop lights for seed starting. I found a four-tube 4-foot fixture that is meant to be hard-wired in, and am adding a power cord to it. We want to start more plants than last year, of course.
We finally finalized the last two seed orders.
Four eggs today.
Monday, February 20, 2017
D'oh
Well, pudding night was cancelled. Some idiot forgot two of the five ingredients, and tapioca pudding without eggs or sugar is just lumpy vanilla-flavored milk. There are four bowls of lumpy vanilla milk in the fridge.
Fortunately, Willie the ancient Pomeranian likes it. He'll slurp that even when he won't take water. I think we're nearing the time of the Big Shot, but C. doesn't want to talk about it. He's her dog, and I won't butt in. He's somewhere between 15 and 17 years old, and has had a good 10 years with us. Before that it wasn't so good. He's a sweet boy.
I'm off to town to get a blood test, in hopes of getting the thyroid meds right, and checking on D and B12 levels. Did you know most U.S. doctors routinely do incomplete tests on thyroid and B12? You have to ask, and even get pushy, to get accurate tests. It can make the doc uncomfortable (perhaps not as uncomfortable as wearing one of those open-back gowns in the cold exam rooms), but that's just too bad. It's important.
It's raining on the snow. There are flood warnings out for the area – we're up on a hill way above the Little Spokane River, so we're fine, but I bet all the street drains in town are overflowing. And the recent thaw has exposed many, many new potholes. Winter is hard on Spokane streets.
We had seven eggs yesterday! Our all time high, and pretty damn good for eight hens in February. Two today.
Fortunately, Willie the ancient Pomeranian likes it. He'll slurp that even when he won't take water. I think we're nearing the time of the Big Shot, but C. doesn't want to talk about it. He's her dog, and I won't butt in. He's somewhere between 15 and 17 years old, and has had a good 10 years with us. Before that it wasn't so good. He's a sweet boy.
I'm off to town to get a blood test, in hopes of getting the thyroid meds right, and checking on D and B12 levels. Did you know most U.S. doctors routinely do incomplete tests on thyroid and B12? You have to ask, and even get pushy, to get accurate tests. It can make the doc uncomfortable (perhaps not as uncomfortable as wearing one of those open-back gowns in the cold exam rooms), but that's just too bad. It's important.
It's raining on the snow. There are flood warnings out for the area – we're up on a hill way above the Little Spokane River, so we're fine, but I bet all the street drains in town are overflowing. And the recent thaw has exposed many, many new potholes. Winter is hard on Spokane streets.
We had seven eggs yesterday! Our all time high, and pretty damn good for eight hens in February. Two today.
Sunday, February 19, 2017
Feb. weekend
C. and Em went to the Experience Hendrix concert last night at the casino. There were 20-some great blues guitarists on stage, and it was, I understand, amazing. I was planning to go, but decided it was too much driving and sitting. And the moshing, you know, can be quiet strenuous.
This morning we were surprised by giant soft flakes of snow gliding down in great numbers. It didn't last long, but was impressive. In a winter sort of way. It's still warm, though, and hurrah, I heard the storm drain belch and glug, which means we are thawed!
C. ventured out and dug a bucket of sunchokes for the angora rabbits. The six (now five) fuzzy little guys have, so far this winter, eaten their way through 15 big cans of dried greens, a few buckets of carrots, many buckets of sunchokes, the best part of 50 pounds of oats, and several bales of grass hay. They are not interested in pursuing a hay-only diet. (I can always tell they are disappointed when they thump at me after I fill their bowls. Not that they scare me. They're not going to bite me or anything. They prefer to bite C.)
We got gas for the chainsaw, and two gallons of milk and two dozen eggs from Rose. Yes, it's pudding night.
This morning we were surprised by giant soft flakes of snow gliding down in great numbers. It didn't last long, but was impressive. In a winter sort of way. It's still warm, though, and hurrah, I heard the storm drain belch and glug, which means we are thawed!
C. ventured out and dug a bucket of sunchokes for the angora rabbits. The six (now five) fuzzy little guys have, so far this winter, eaten their way through 15 big cans of dried greens, a few buckets of carrots, many buckets of sunchokes, the best part of 50 pounds of oats, and several bales of grass hay. They are not interested in pursuing a hay-only diet. (I can always tell they are disappointed when they thump at me after I fill their bowls. Not that they scare me. They're not going to bite me or anything. They prefer to bite C.)
We got gas for the chainsaw, and two gallons of milk and two dozen eggs from Rose. Yes, it's pudding night.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)