This is what I was waiting for – the lobster, the sunset, the harbor, the boats. It was also in the mid seventies when I arrived. Wonderful.
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I’m So Done with Peaches
It’s been a busy few days. Lots of canning this past weekend in spite of the hot, humid weather. I always think if being way too hot when I’m canning, it’s the nature of the beast.
The canning marathon began Sunday morning with a large bowl of tomatoes. The photo looks like it’s all yellow but it was half plum as well.
These little tomatoes are bursting with flavor, one of my favorites and the plants are extraordinarily prolific. There is always a bowl of these on the counter to munch on as you’re walking by.
I made the sauce highly spiced with homemade pesto and oregano (and lots of garlic of course). It was cooked down to be rather thick and then I canned it in small jars (2/3 cup). You never need much sauce when you make pizza and this just made more sense to me – that and the fact that I had two dozen of these cute little jars.
Monday I wove and finished my scarf for the Big E. That took a good part of the day. It was hot, humid and rainy. We invited friends over for dinner so the only thing I did outdoors was dig potatoes for dinner. I also picked peppers and put them in to dehydrate. They were there overnight. Before going to bed I went online and saw Apex Orchards had put out an APB about an overrun of peaches so I knew what I would be doing in the morning.
Yes, peaches. Lots of peaches. I picked them up around 9:00 and started in as soon as I returned. This wasn’t the best peach experience I have ever had. They didn’t peel as well as I would have liked so it was slow going. I managed to put up 15 pints and with half a box to go I decided to make a little jam.
I had picked up this new pectin at the orchard and was hot to try it out. One of the reasons I don’t make much jam is the amount of sugar that has to go into it, this made more sense to me. I made a jam with peaches, honey and ginger. It smelled heavenly while it was cooking and what little was left in the pan tasted great. The thing with jam is it sometimes takes a while to jell up. By the time I left the house last night it wasn’t looking too thick. I figured I would give it a couple of days to see if it would be thick enough to spread on my toast. If not it’ll just go into my oatmeal or yogurt. Mmmmmm, Honey Ginger Peach yogurt, how good does THAT sound!
By the time the afternoon was over I was sooo over peaches. Canning fruit also calls for serious cleaning – everything was sticky, including the floor. This may be why peaches are one of the few fruits I put up. The next will be pears but not until November. I need a couple of months to recover.
I will be leaving for Fiber College in Searsport, ME this afternoon. I’m not sure how much time will be devoted to blogging but I will make an attempt. All I really want to do is smell and walk along the ocean and eat lobster but I may be coerced into doing a little crafting while I’m there.
The Joys of Waiting
With all of the tension in the world right now I thought this was appropriate.
I hate waiting. Most people I know hate waiting. Life is full of waiting: we wait for loved ones to come home, we wait for movies to start, we wait in lines at groceries, banks, or the DMV. We wait to hear the results of tests at school, and the results of tests about our health. Right now my love is waiting to find out if a new job will come through, unable to make commitments until he does. As writers, we wait for the muse to strike, we wait to hear back about a submission, we wait to see if anyone will discover our work, and we wait to learn if they love it as we do. All this waiting creates an often excruciating sense of anticipation, anxiety, or dread. It puts us in a state of suspended animation, of limbo: we understand, while in this limbo, why Dante…
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What I’ve Learned
I love Ben Hewitt and these are true words of wisdom.
Not so long ago, as part of my reporting on a story I’m working on, I attended a meeting in a community not far from here. At the end of the meeting, each person was asked to say something about what they’d gleaned from the gathering. Or about anything, really. A fellow sitting a few chairs down from me, dressed in classic business attire, said this: “I’ve learned that to be successful in life, it’s helpful surround yourself with successful people.” The crowd nodded its agreement.
The next morning, Melvin was up to breed not one, but two of our girls. It’s mighty convenient when milk cows synchronize their heats, one of those small rural blessings the overwhelming majority of the world will never be aware of (another of those blessings is to have a neighbor who’s attended school for the fine art of artificial insemination). Anyway, two cows in heat…
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Can All You Can
I posted a photo of my canyon of canned goods the other day and some comments surprised me. I grew up canning. My mother canned – a lot. We had a large garden and what she didn’t can she froze. Everything was done with a hot water bath so there were hours spent in front of that stove or in a hot kitchen, it takes a long time to process things with a hot water bath. She used the WWII volume of the Ball Blue Book. I still have it but these days almost everything I do is with a pressure canner. It saves me time, water, energy and sweat. I am also able to can pretty much anything safely.
This time of year the concentration is on fruit with tomatoes included. Last week I canned tomatoes, peaches and made apricot butter as well as a few jars of dill pickles. This week will be a repeat. I really need about 50 pints of tomatoes to last me until next summer, I’d prefer to have more but tomatoes aren’t as easy to come by this summer due to a blight that seems to have effected everyone everywhere.
The peaches are beautiful this year and I had a really great canning experience this past weekend. I love it when everything goes smoothly. I don’t want to fight to peel those peaches. I read somewhere to make sure the water was at a rolling boil and to dunk only a few peaches at a time for 30 seconds then into the ice bath. Worked like a charm. I also made sure my fruit was at room temperature before I started. Canning fruit at home also allows you to control the amount of sugar that is used in processing. That’s important to me, I don’t like things really sweet, I want to taste the fruit.
Our pear tree is loaded with fruit this year – I fear for its branches. The apple trees are the same. I will probably make a few pints of pie filling from the apples just to see if I can make it work to my satisfaction. The pears won’t even ripen until after Thanksgiving and I will can those in chunks like I did the peaches.
There is nothing like the taste of home canned food, especially in winter. I know exactly what is in every jar, there are no preservatives, no additives, no GMO’s. It’s real food. There is also the feeling of food security which is certainly what food preservation is all about. Having enough to eat until the next harvest comes in. Plant enough to eat now and put by enough to get you to next summer. We live in a world where everything is immediate. It takes very little time to empty out a grocery store, they are restocked every day. I don’t ever want to worry about where my next meal is coming from or not having food to feed my family. I’m sure that comes from growing up when food security may have been a concern. I just remember this time of year the shelves were stocked and you had choices.
I know when I look at this my mind is set a little more at ease. I have good food, I took the time to make it right and now all that is left is the eating.
Wordless Almost
And some days you don’t post simply because your head is not in the game.
Family Affair
The wood still needs to be cut and split and we had some help on Sunday. Daughter Amanda, her boyfriend Yusuf and sister Sue all were all there. I can’t tell you how much you can get done with helping hands. The saying “many hands make light work” really rang true.
Each person had their own job, depending upon their skill level with pieces of equipment. Well, everyone can use the splitter but not everyone can wield a chainsaw (that’s the piece of equipment I stay away from).
Chester just likes to be in the thick of things. He’s not afraid of the noise of the equipment or tractor (although he stays away from the chainsaw as well). The splitter is a real godsend to people our age or anyone for that matter. The pieces of wood that were dispatched were large, some 25 to 30 inches across. If they weren’t full of knots they were spit with ease.
The wood we split Sunday was ash and cherry. I love splitting ash, it’s beautiful and splits easily. Cherry on the other hand . . .
By the time we were done we had a wall of wood over 25 feet long and 5 feet high. All in all a great days work.
Of course this was happening all day with anyone that was near him. Chester had a good day too.
Heath Fair
The Fair started for me Thursday evening when I dropped off my blanket and rug at the exhibition hall. There were helpers everywhere and you could feel the excitement building. They have this fair down to a science. I was given labels that were already printed with my name and category, I attached the labels to the corner of my goods with the name hidden and handed them off to one of the many workers with the checkered aprons walking around the hall. Then the waiting began.
For me part of the anticipation is not knowing what your competition is. How many people weave and put their work in a small country fair? I know many people hook rugs but are there any around here that do? Are they willing to haul them to a fair for a ribbon and maximum premium of $3.00?
Sister Sue and I made our way over about 10 AM Saturday. The fairgrounds were bustling with activity. We toured the sheep barn and the poultry/rabbit building.
We ran into our friend Russell who told me he only won second place on the rocking horse he had made for his grandson. (The only category it fit into was Craft Other – I’m glad I wasn’t judging that one). After catching up with them for a bit we went to the Exhibition Hall to see how I did. It took me a minute to figure out where the textiles were. I was also amazed at how many people brought things to the fair.
Blue Ribbon for my rug but the only other competition on this was a really beautiful woven rag rug. Again, another difficult judging situation.
Then a blue ribbon for the blanket – woohoo! There was a lot of weaving in the fair this year which actually surprised me. Who knew I was surrounded by weavers and didn’t know it? There’s another reason to compete at the fair – you get to know the competition and they are just like you.
Once we left the exhibition hall we made our way down the food lane and picked up some fried dough with Maple Cream from Hager’s Farm for breakfast (it’s sort of like a pancake right?). With food in hand we watched the herding exhibition – with ducks.
Then it was on to the main reason I was at the fair so early – Horse Draw. I always plan my fair visits around this event. The animals are stunningly beautiful and you can watch them doing what they are trained to do.
You also get to see the teamsters in action.
These horses are very similar to dogs (except in size). They are bred to pull, they have a job. It’s the trainers job to teach them how to do it. There are a lot of differences in how these horse’s people work with them and that’s the difference in how well they pull. Early on in the draw you have a sense of who will win just by how they are handled by their drivers.
The competition was light in the 3,000 pound category. There were 5 teams competing, 3 of the teams were from the same farm. There were 2 other fairs this weekend with horse draw competitions.
Honestly, one of the best parts of this event is sitting in the stand with all of the other interested parties. This is redneck farmers at its best. Horse people are an interesting lot (and sometimes a little scary to look at). They joked about small wagers on a particular team. Arguments ensued over who knows what and people were generous in their knowledge of the sport. One explained in detail how the draw was measured and how the timing of each pull was handled.
Then there were also teamsters helping out teamsters if someone was short for a particular pull (competitors, helping competitors). It’s all about the horses you see (at least to them). They apparently don’t know that we’ve figured out that it’s their work, their temperament that is really what makes their team perform at their best.
When the pull was over we went home. I returned later with the family – they wanted fair food for supper. We watched a little of the truck pull before calling it a day. The crowd was enormous – a sea of camouflage and dirty ball caps. For a people watcher this was gold.
For me the fair concluded last evening when I picked up my entries and winnings. I’ve concluded that the only way to see the fair is to compete in it. You have skin in the game and every one around you knows it. Now to start working on next years entries.
Is it Ethical to Eat Meat?
Thank you Auburn Meadow Farm.
THINKING THURSDAY: SOMETHING TO PONDER IN THE WORLD OF FOOD AND FARMING.
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Have you heard? The New York Times is calling all carnivores to tell them why we believe it is ethical to eat meat.
Since this is a topic front and center in my mind nearly every day and I planned to discuss it with you anyway, how about right now?
The stingy 600 word limit was a real hardship for a chatty girl like myself; hopefully Word’s word count tool is accurate! I sent my blood, sweat and tears off into the electronic sunset, and from there, who knows?
Weigh in with your opinions in the comments below, but do play nice. I’m anxious to hear your thoughts on the matter.
So, here it is; my big New York Times minute:
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This question of whether it is ethical to eat meat cannot be deeply understood by…
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How Time Passes
This is a photograph taken in 1981 of a group of people who had traveled across the state of MA to a winter retreat at a monastary, I’m the first on the left in the front row. I can’t recollect exactly where it was. I do remember the snowstorm that ensued while we were there and the extraordinary beauty of the entire weekend. This is a group of people I loved with all of my heart, each and every one of them, with their personal quirks and issues. They came from all walks of life, all religions. Some I worked with, some I knew from school, others I knew from the town I lived in or the church I attended at the time. We were a close knit group that held each other up when times were bad and rejoiced when things were good. Each little triumph was celebrated. When I married and moved away from this community I remained in touch with some of them over the years, many only a yearly update or phone call. They were an integral part of who I am, each one a small piece of my heart.
Last year we had a reunion of sorts. It had been almost 27 years since I had been with these people but was like I had never left in some respects. A couple, who I was probably closest to had passed away in that time and for me it was a huge loss – both when I had learned of their passing and when the group got together and they were no longer there. Today I learned of the passing of another and it saddened me so.
Twenty seven years – yet it feels like no more than a year. Everyone goes on with their lives as I did with mine yet I can only think of them the way I left them. Even in reunion last summer the only things that seemed to change for me was the color of the hair and the ones that were missing. I think that’s a trick our minds play on us. We leave people for years and think they will be the same when we see them again, their children forever 7 years old. We are shocked to find out the kids are married with children of their own – “How did that happen?!?” Yet we know how we have changed, how our lives have moved through the years and I suppose in some sense we think they will know when we see them.
Time passes so quickly, the older I am the faster it goes. People pass in and out of our lives all leaving a little bit of themselves in who we are. I am beginning to understand what my grandmother meant when she told me that she was all alone. All of her contemporaries were gone, no siblings, no friends, no spouse. She had her children and grand children but it wasn’t enough really.
I think at some point you have to take an inventory of sorts, of the people that mean something to you. Make an effort to contact them in some way, to let them know they are special to you. It will be good for you and good for them.
Fort Pelham Farm 