This post has been sitting blank for more than a year; it' the post that made me wonder if I really thought blogging was a thing I wanted to do. I fretted about actually talking about this, because my feelings run strong and I worried about offending people. And then I came back to blogging and this blank draft is sitting in my post list and I think I have to talk about this.
I live in a place that seems (at least to someone from Texas) to have an unlimited amount of water. There's water everywhere. It falls regularly from the skies; the rivers seem to never be dry. Our sandy soil stays saturated for weeks in the spring and the occasional week throughout the summer and fall. So, why would I worry about water?
First, water is limited. Really. It is. There is only so much, and only so much of it is potable. Being from Texas, I know that water does not always fall from the sky when you need it.
Second, we have a spring that we get water from. This means we can actually have NO water if we forget to turn off a garden hose. Truthfully, the spring recovers pretty fast- about 2 hours in high summer- so we have never been without water long. But if you have never experienced the thrill/horror of turning on the tap and no water coming out, then you'll have to believe me that it is a sobering experience. It helps me not take water so much for granted.
Because I was always on city water in Texas, it never really registered. If the water did not come out of the tap, it mean the city had a problem to fix. Can you imagine a robocall telling everyone in Fort Worth there would be no water for two hours?
Third, there's the whole potability thing. Probably everyone who reads this post shits in their drinking water.Then, that water gets "cleaned" and cycled back into the system so you can either drink it or shit in it again. I hope you're a little grossed out at this point.
Coming to this realization, coupled with trying to conserve our spring, led me to try something that seemed completely crazy- much crazier than cloth diapers. I now compost our waste, "humanure" as it's called. While I have you cringing already, you might check to see what your city does with the human waste cleaned from your city's water. Around here, the guy who empties septic tanks sprays that "manure" on hay fields. I'm not sure exactly what regulations apply regarding when that field can be used to feed animals, but I am sure that my compost is sitting much longer and most definitely turning into dirt before it's used agriculturally.
And really, what ARE they supposed to do with all this shit we're dumping down our pipes?
So, as I try to keep at least on foot off the soapbox, I'll say we've been doing this for an entire year as a family. We made it through last winter by building a box with a toilet seat that a five gallon bucket sits in. The bargain I made to get everyone in this house on board is that I switch out the buckets and clean them. It's not such a big deal, except maybe in January. Things I've learned: I need three compost piles to get a family of five through winter; the compost pile compacts faster if I put a little sprinkling of compost on the finished bucket; everyone must be very clear on which bins are aging and which compost bins are active. I had two bins that should have been ready this fall, but the kids added kitchen scraps and cat litter in the spring, so those will wait awhile longer. Pine shavings break down better that cedar.
For now, we still have a flush toilet with a humanure receptacle beside it. Jason insists that people will not visit us otherwise. I'm not convinced, but sometimes, the more squeamish person should set the bar.
Showing posts with label Home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Home. Show all posts
Monday, October 8, 2012
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Knitting
It's also because I believe knitting is very good for your whole self. It's rhythmic, it engages the will, it crosses the midline, there's the whole reading a pattern thing, etc.Recently, Sylvie has crossed from knitting being all effort to being at least a little pleasure. It's a line they have each crossed at different times. Phaedra was probably in third grade, Ezra quit resisting so hard in fifth, and Sylvie is just barely into second grade.
For the girls, it looks like something they will enjoy at least somewhat through life. It is not something Ezra will probably ever stick with, but having one skill can make you more confident on other areas.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Things Used to be Tidy
So long ago, it feels like a dream, I mopped my floors almost daily, and my house seemed so easy to keep clean. I have lost this as a priority somehow.
Today, I was canning the first batch of broth and rendering fat and simultaneously helping the children with school. While I was doing the breakfast dishes to make room for my tasks, I supported Phaedra through her division work. I got the jars in hot water and read to Sylvie. Ezra slipped in and out telling me about what he was reading or trying to convince me that he needed no more practice drawing triangles. Sylvie took a break from school to help me fill jars, and then I set her up to paint something from King of Ireland's Son. More reading, more checking, more talking...
Just as I was feeling like I had things on the kitchen side of the room under control, I glanced across to see what homeschool looks like at our house. I think the word is disheveled.
And I think that's probably good enough in the midst of these four slightly canted walls.
Today, I was canning the first batch of broth and rendering fat and simultaneously helping the children with school. While I was doing the breakfast dishes to make room for my tasks, I supported Phaedra through her division work. I got the jars in hot water and read to Sylvie. Ezra slipped in and out telling me about what he was reading or trying to convince me that he needed no more practice drawing triangles. Sylvie took a break from school to help me fill jars, and then I set her up to paint something from King of Ireland's Son. More reading, more checking, more talking...
And I think that's probably good enough in the midst of these four slightly canted walls.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
No Dryer
We chose to not have a dryer when we moved in here. We had experimented with this from time to time, but this house is so tightly configured that the space that might hold a dryer was quickly occupied by other necessaries.
It's been over three year; we've made it three winters. Actually the winters are not even the most difficult season. Since we run the wood stove throughout the winter, the house is relatively dry and laundry dries pretty well. I can set a drying rack in front of the stove loaded with laundry before bed, and it's all dry in the morning.
Today's weather presents the real difficulty. It has rained pretty steadily since we've been back from Maine, and there was a lot of laundry to wash when we got home. So, with steady shuffling and a fan, I've gotten most of it washed and the last "catch up" load is hanging in the laundry room.
We talked about taking it to the laundrymat, but the dryers there smell burned. We are tired of hearing the fan running, but it seems like a pretty good compromise.
It's been over three year; we've made it three winters. Actually the winters are not even the most difficult season. Since we run the wood stove throughout the winter, the house is relatively dry and laundry dries pretty well. I can set a drying rack in front of the stove loaded with laundry before bed, and it's all dry in the morning.
We talked about taking it to the laundrymat, but the dryers there smell burned. We are tired of hearing the fan running, but it seems like a pretty good compromise.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Worth Its Weight
Jason moved six tons of second cut hay in late summer. That’s 300 bales at roughly 40 pounds apiece. He moved them from a barn into a hay wagon and the pickup truck, and then together we moved them into the barn. We did that in three days.
We stacked an estimated 7 tons of wood- assuming seven pounds per stick (the wood was wet) and 2000 sticks.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
The Trouble With Cats
When Ezra turned seven, we got a cat. We had cats in Texas, but the idea of moving a cat across the country was a little scary. Our cat at that time was less than a year old, and the lady across the street really wanted him. It seemed like a good idea.
Ezra asked and asked for a cat from the time we moved, and two years later, we were ready to have one, so along came Sol-leks. And Sol-leks is an odd bird, but a wonderful cat. He never scratches, he loves to be cuddled, he seemed to intuit the purpose of the litter box. But, he IS an odd bird. And this is why- he is petrified of loud noises.
Yes, yes, I know all cats dislike loud noises, but this fear of his goes beyond the pale. In fact, the first time he disappeared, it was because of some house construction going on outside the house.
That was two falls back, and we were very sad, but you know, that kind of happens with cats. It's not that I think they're disposable; it's just that they are independent enough to make a few of their own decisions, and sometimes that means they relocate themselves or escape outside at dark.
So, about a month later, Phaedra announced, apropos of nothing, that she had a hole in her heart where Sol-Leks used to be. Maybe some of you would have comforted her and let it go, but I got her another cat. His name is Cecil.
And two weeks later, Sol-Leks came back.
After that, we did not worry much if Sol-leks disappeared for a day or two. And Phaedra and Cecil were each other's favorites and all has been right with the world. At least until two weeks ago.
That's when Cecil disappeared. And now it seems that hole reopened in Phaedra's heart which we will be filling with another cat.
Ezra asked and asked for a cat from the time we moved, and two years later, we were ready to have one, so along came Sol-leks. And Sol-leks is an odd bird, but a wonderful cat. He never scratches, he loves to be cuddled, he seemed to intuit the purpose of the litter box. But, he IS an odd bird. And this is why- he is petrified of loud noises.
Yes, yes, I know all cats dislike loud noises, but this fear of his goes beyond the pale. In fact, the first time he disappeared, it was because of some house construction going on outside the house.
That was two falls back, and we were very sad, but you know, that kind of happens with cats. It's not that I think they're disposable; it's just that they are independent enough to make a few of their own decisions, and sometimes that means they relocate themselves or escape outside at dark.
So, about a month later, Phaedra announced, apropos of nothing, that she had a hole in her heart where Sol-Leks used to be. Maybe some of you would have comforted her and let it go, but I got her another cat. His name is Cecil.
And two weeks later, Sol-Leks came back.
After that, we did not worry much if Sol-leks disappeared for a day or two. And Phaedra and Cecil were each other's favorites and all has been right with the world. At least until two weeks ago.
That's when Cecil disappeared. And now it seems that hole reopened in Phaedra's heart which we will be filling with another cat.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Tis the Season?
I heard on the radio yesterday that electronics, particularly large, flat screen televisions, were selling very well at a certain mall in Los Angeles. It was part of some story regarding “Black Friday” and the economy.
And now I tread into uncomfortable territory. I offer at the outset that I am far from pure as I sit typing away on a laptop, listening to one of the family IPods on one of the family docs.
I just thought that perhaps we’re being driven to increasingly pacifying our inner selves so that we can toil away in this questionable economy/society/culture. We’re really quite certain that what we have now is so much better than anywhere else in the world, and mostly better than anything we’ve had before. Yet, we sit very still for most of every day, either in our cars or in front of our computers or in front of our televisions. We get fatter and fatter and we cannot quite figure out what’s wrong. We take more and more medications and hope for some even better ones. We buy one thing and another thinking that THIS one will be just the thing, and then we go out again to buy another. And we cling so desperately to this life, thinking that if we cure, prevent, or predict all these diseases that we then won’t be so plagued by worry.
However, if you look, we’re still plagued by worry, maybe moreso. We’re still getting fatter. We’re paying for new medications and new technology and new sport shoes and new cars- never quite satisfied. Our plan just isn’t working out that well for us. It also isn’t working that well for the rest for the world.
We’ve exported our insatiability, and we chafe at other countries taking resources we are used to having all for ourselves. Instead of reflecting, and maybe finding that we can be satisfied, we fight over those resources. This dear earth cannot support everyone in the style middle class Americans are used to.
Then, we do not even consider where all those old cell phones and laptops and televisions and shoes go when we’re done with them. Just take a minute and imagine that only half the people in your town or city got a new phone, television, pair of crocs, computer, or Ipod this year. I'd guess we sent the rest to the dump. Or maybe better, the old ones were sent to be parted up into new ones or at least taken to haz mat to be “properly” disposed of (and what does THAT mean?). I will just point out that I haven’t seen many of these things labeled that they were made exclusively of old components; I do not think that would sell well when shelved by the brand new, everything improved versions.
So, if you’re reading this, you probably have a share in the crime we are committing against our world, and maybe if we can at least admit our guilt, we can all try to upgrade less frequently- or even do without occasionally.
And now I tread into uncomfortable territory. I offer at the outset that I am far from pure as I sit typing away on a laptop, listening to one of the family IPods on one of the family docs.
I just thought that perhaps we’re being driven to increasingly pacifying our inner selves so that we can toil away in this questionable economy/society/culture. We’re really quite certain that what we have now is so much better than anywhere else in the world, and mostly better than anything we’ve had before. Yet, we sit very still for most of every day, either in our cars or in front of our computers or in front of our televisions. We get fatter and fatter and we cannot quite figure out what’s wrong. We take more and more medications and hope for some even better ones. We buy one thing and another thinking that THIS one will be just the thing, and then we go out again to buy another. And we cling so desperately to this life, thinking that if we cure, prevent, or predict all these diseases that we then won’t be so plagued by worry.
However, if you look, we’re still plagued by worry, maybe moreso. We’re still getting fatter. We’re paying for new medications and new technology and new sport shoes and new cars- never quite satisfied. Our plan just isn’t working out that well for us. It also isn’t working that well for the rest for the world.
We’ve exported our insatiability, and we chafe at other countries taking resources we are used to having all for ourselves. Instead of reflecting, and maybe finding that we can be satisfied, we fight over those resources. This dear earth cannot support everyone in the style middle class Americans are used to.
Then, we do not even consider where all those old cell phones and laptops and televisions and shoes go when we’re done with them. Just take a minute and imagine that only half the people in your town or city got a new phone, television, pair of crocs, computer, or Ipod this year. I'd guess we sent the rest to the dump. Or maybe better, the old ones were sent to be parted up into new ones or at least taken to haz mat to be “properly” disposed of (and what does THAT mean?). I will just point out that I haven’t seen many of these things labeled that they were made exclusively of old components; I do not think that would sell well when shelved by the brand new, everything improved versions.
So, if you’re reading this, you probably have a share in the crime we are committing against our world, and maybe if we can at least admit our guilt, we can all try to upgrade less frequently- or even do without occasionally.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Why Worry
The leaves need raking.
I need leaves for the garden.
I need leaves for the compost.
Violet needs a corner wall in the barn.
The green house needs end walls. And plastic. And probably other things I’m not thinking of.
The chickens still are not laying.
The chickens would lay better with some artificial light.
The chickens are not in a place where we can easily/safely give them light.
There are places that need shingles.
Is the plywood beginning to warp beneath Ezra’s new window?
Nico has dug ten holes in the empty gardens.
The wire to protect the trees is lying in the field, not wrapped around the trees.
Six trees need wire.
The hole in the garden created by the drip from the rain gutter is still a hole.
There is a lot of construction debris around our shabby house making it look shabbier.
Some of the wood is still getting rained on.
Wet wood doesn’t heat that well.
Who can we get log lengths from?
Elmer needs to be brushed.
Sylvie’s nails need trimming. Ezra needs a science lesson. Phaedra needs me to listen to her report on Understood Betsy. Is Jason getting enough time?
And still, I’m glad to be here when I remember to notice where I am.
I need leaves for the garden.
I need leaves for the compost.
Violet needs a corner wall in the barn.
The green house needs end walls. And plastic. And probably other things I’m not thinking of.
The chickens still are not laying.
The chickens would lay better with some artificial light.
The chickens are not in a place where we can easily/safely give them light.
There are places that need shingles.
Is the plywood beginning to warp beneath Ezra’s new window?
Nico has dug ten holes in the empty gardens.
The wire to protect the trees is lying in the field, not wrapped around the trees.
Six trees need wire.
The hole in the garden created by the drip from the rain gutter is still a hole.
There is a lot of construction debris around our shabby house making it look shabbier.
Some of the wood is still getting rained on.
Wet wood doesn’t heat that well.
Who can we get log lengths from?
Elmer needs to be brushed.
Sylvie’s nails need trimming. Ezra needs a science lesson. Phaedra needs me to listen to her report on Understood Betsy. Is Jason getting enough time?
And still, I’m glad to be here when I remember to notice where I am.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
I Am Not Agoraphobic
I just like to be at home.
I can even see how it’s unfair of me. I can see how many of the people I love share this trait of liking home best of all. But when I weigh pottering about in my garden- or reading in my blue chair or rearranging the garage or hanging laundry or running the mower- against standing around at someone else’s house, I am often sorely tempted to stay home.
I have a couple of friends whose houses are easy for me, because I can do little jobs in their houses or I can knit without seeming rude. But when I meet new people (and I’ve met many in the past couple of years) it feels like I ought to visit with them in a having tea kind of way. A surprising number of people want to watch children playing when we get together. While I love my children and delight in their ways, I think we all enjoy ourselves more when they do not have an audience. Heck, I’ll even admit that I quickly get bored just watching them play.
It was easier for me to go visiting when I had less work to do, or when I was nursing a baby and therefore confined to a chair many hours of the day. Now, there is always something I could be doing, and I like almost all of it more than sitting still with a polite smile plastered on my face.
However, that polite smile is worth having old and new friends. Invite me over, and I’ll come, but if you haven’t heard from me, just assume I’m in the garden.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
The Milking Curve part 2
Here we are in the barn, and it's time for Jason to put the chain on Violet's collar to discourage any changes of mind. It's a tense moment. It's a point which Violet can make difficult with a pushy toss of her head. If Clover wanders from sight, Violet will turn to see where she's gone inside the 20x15 space, and it's very nice if Clover has not actually wandered directly behind her, because Violet will want to turn around and see and then we're kind of back to square one in a 20x15 space with an 800-pound anxious mother. 20x15 can feel oppressively small when you have an electric fence behind you and a cow with her horns down in front of you.
So, once Violet is on the chain and Clover has agreed to stay in roughly one corner Violet can see easily, Jason begins to croon to her and stroke her jaw. She loves for her jaw to be petted; we figure all that chewing must getting tiring, even if you're built for it.
While Jason soothes the dear lady, I use the warm water to clean each teat (there are four on a cow's udder), and I use a clean rag to dry off the water. One thing I've learned is to leave the milk pail out of the cow's reach because if she can reach it, she will stick her nose in it. She has to check out everything, and her investigations do not leave the bucket quite as clean as I like.
Once her udder is clean one of two things happen. If Violet has been in the barn, she has not pooped. She doesn't seem to prefer to poop in the barn, but we do not prefer for her and Clover to run out of the barn for her constitutional because the chase is much more difficult than the poop removal. So, she poops sometime during the first three minutes of the chore time, and she pees shortly thereafter. We know this now. I do not sit down with my clean bucket to milk her until she has done her business.
The other thing that could happen is she could have pooped and peed while we were leading her to the barn and corralling Clover. In that case, I can sit right down to milk her.
It's pretty easy to milk a cow and pretty freaking hard, too. As I sit there, hands and forearms burning with the effort, it's amazing to see this milk pour out of this cow who's just standing there. And it just keeps coming and coming, until I'm ready to cry uncle, because my arms are so tired. Fortunately, only a week into our milking adventures, my arms are definitely stronger and my technique is definitely improving.
While we're milking, Violet stands pretty still with Jason acting as her stanchion. She usually moves just enough that I have to put one knee or another into the puddle of pee or right on a stone. There is some shifting, but she is remarkably tolerant, sidestepping the bucket and keeping one foot kind of back and out of the way. If Clover gets up, she moos softly to her, which I think is cow for, "Get your butt back into that bed!"
When I'm finished, there is a scramble. I have to take out the milk, go get the second carrot (a treat for being such a good cow), wipe down her udder and put a little marigold ointment on. Jason then feeds her the carrot and unfastens the chain. We bow out of the barn, leaving them in, while we freshen the water and check on the chickens. Then we open the barn, but they mostly choose to stay inside for awhile.
So, once Violet is on the chain and Clover has agreed to stay in roughly one corner Violet can see easily, Jason begins to croon to her and stroke her jaw. She loves for her jaw to be petted; we figure all that chewing must getting tiring, even if you're built for it.
While Jason soothes the dear lady, I use the warm water to clean each teat (there are four on a cow's udder), and I use a clean rag to dry off the water. One thing I've learned is to leave the milk pail out of the cow's reach because if she can reach it, she will stick her nose in it. She has to check out everything, and her investigations do not leave the bucket quite as clean as I like.
Once her udder is clean one of two things happen. If Violet has been in the barn, she has not pooped. She doesn't seem to prefer to poop in the barn, but we do not prefer for her and Clover to run out of the barn for her constitutional because the chase is much more difficult than the poop removal. So, she poops sometime during the first three minutes of the chore time, and she pees shortly thereafter. We know this now. I do not sit down with my clean bucket to milk her until she has done her business.
The other thing that could happen is she could have pooped and peed while we were leading her to the barn and corralling Clover. In that case, I can sit right down to milk her.
It's pretty easy to milk a cow and pretty freaking hard, too. As I sit there, hands and forearms burning with the effort, it's amazing to see this milk pour out of this cow who's just standing there. And it just keeps coming and coming, until I'm ready to cry uncle, because my arms are so tired. Fortunately, only a week into our milking adventures, my arms are definitely stronger and my technique is definitely improving.
While we're milking, Violet stands pretty still with Jason acting as her stanchion. She usually moves just enough that I have to put one knee or another into the puddle of pee or right on a stone. There is some shifting, but she is remarkably tolerant, sidestepping the bucket and keeping one foot kind of back and out of the way. If Clover gets up, she moos softly to her, which I think is cow for, "Get your butt back into that bed!"
When I'm finished, there is a scramble. I have to take out the milk, go get the second carrot (a treat for being such a good cow), wipe down her udder and put a little marigold ointment on. Jason then feeds her the carrot and unfastens the chain. We bow out of the barn, leaving them in, while we freshen the water and check on the chickens. Then we open the barn, but they mostly choose to stay inside for awhile.
Monday, May 31, 2010
More from that Book
On page 105 she says, "Our society is riddled with myths to suggest that anyone who forgoes a conventional career track and devotes themselves to sustainable home and community life is merely squandering their life... Committing her life's energy to an employer has not made a truly 'liberated woman'. A homemaker's primary job is not to be a consumer. The choice to cultivate self-reliance, curb consumption and live well on less money drains only the extractive economy, but feeds a life-sustaining economy. The pursuit of affluence, the ennoblement of excessive work and hyper-individualism are not manifestations of the American dream, but causes of a national nightmare."
That's it. That's why I'm here and why I wonder at everyone (the general, not specific) pushing their children to go to college. I wonder why I was limited to that view of life and wish that I could have gotten to this one by a more direct route. I know people who did. I know people just barely in their twenties who know where they're going and it isn't into the "extractive economy". I'm not staying home to consume more; I'm not staying home to spend my husband's paycheck; I'm not staying home "for the children". I'm here because our family works better this way. We are able to pay closer attention to our path in the world. And Jason does the work he does so he actually has time to be part of our home economy and part of our community. We feel we're finally in a place where we can participate and be with the people around us. We don't want to be an atomic family; our vision is much wider than that.
That's it. That's why I'm here and why I wonder at everyone (the general, not specific) pushing their children to go to college. I wonder why I was limited to that view of life and wish that I could have gotten to this one by a more direct route. I know people who did. I know people just barely in their twenties who know where they're going and it isn't into the "extractive economy". I'm not staying home to consume more; I'm not staying home to spend my husband's paycheck; I'm not staying home "for the children". I'm here because our family works better this way. We are able to pay closer attention to our path in the world. And Jason does the work he does so he actually has time to be part of our home economy and part of our community. We feel we're finally in a place where we can participate and be with the people around us. We don't want to be an atomic family; our vision is much wider than that.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Grinding the Gears
Let's say you finally are embracing a long time dream and let's just say that dream is homesteading. And let's say it's coming on spring in the first year of your little endeavor. And just for the heck of it, let's just say one of the two main partners has a major life change, like a new job, just as things are getting underway in that first spring in the long awaited dream of your homesteading life.
The gears might grind a bit, but you make it right on down the road just the same.
The gears might grind a bit, but you make it right on down the road just the same.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
One Thing Is Working
When we moved here, there was no obvious place for a refrigerator. I thought this made an excellent time to try a cold box.
We have a defunct freezer in the entryway. It's pushed into the northern corner of the room in what used to be a closet.
We have two deep freezers that we would run with or without a refrigerator because of meat storage and other frozen foods, like berries and bone broth. We keep bottles of water in the deep freezer. In the summer, we take some of these frozen waters and put them in the cold box swapping them for the ones that were in there before. We do this two to three times a day.
In the winter, we had to be aware of whether certain foods were actually freezing out there. And now, in this in between time, I put bottles in there yesterday, and they are still quite frozen today.
We are careful to not let anything sit in there long and there has been some discussion of whether we should vent it somehow. So far, there is no odor except when something is missed.
It has also caused us to think carefully about what actually NEEDS refrigeration. Our eggs are only days from the hen that laid them, so we do not keep them in the cool box. Ketchup and mustard are full of vinegar, and we have had no spoilage with keeping them in a cupboard. Butter also just stays in a cupboard for the most part; we do pay close attention to be sure it isn't rancid.
We consider these things, because it is easier to keep track of more fragile food when there is not a lot of clutter in the cold box. I think this particular experiment is a success. Now, we want to figure out ways of keeping food that skip the freezer entirely; Jason is casting an eye at the spring for that.
We have a defunct freezer in the entryway. It's pushed into the northern corner of the room in what used to be a closet.
We have two deep freezers that we would run with or without a refrigerator because of meat storage and other frozen foods, like berries and bone broth. We keep bottles of water in the deep freezer. In the summer, we take some of these frozen waters and put them in the cold box swapping them for the ones that were in there before. We do this two to three times a day.
In the winter, we had to be aware of whether certain foods were actually freezing out there. And now, in this in between time, I put bottles in there yesterday, and they are still quite frozen today.
We are careful to not let anything sit in there long and there has been some discussion of whether we should vent it somehow. So far, there is no odor except when something is missed.
It has also caused us to think carefully about what actually NEEDS refrigeration. Our eggs are only days from the hen that laid them, so we do not keep them in the cool box. Ketchup and mustard are full of vinegar, and we have had no spoilage with keeping them in a cupboard. Butter also just stays in a cupboard for the most part; we do pay close attention to be sure it isn't rancid.
We consider these things, because it is easier to keep track of more fragile food when there is not a lot of clutter in the cold box. I think this particular experiment is a success. Now, we want to figure out ways of keeping food that skip the freezer entirely; Jason is casting an eye at the spring for that.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
We're Home
I looked through my pictures to pick a few for this post, but none seem quite right. I'll put some at the end, but they're not exactly related to this.
The drive home was uneventful. We drove. And drove. We stayed at a Days Inn for $45 that seemed pretty clean at 11:00 when we went to sleep and at 7:00 when we woke up; really, we were awake for under one hour in the room. (Here would be a good place for a picture I know Jason has. C'est la vie.)
Our visit went really well. There's something nice about seeing my children playing with so many of my family's children. Our quirkiness stood out at times, but the things I actually worry about (temper, boundaries, selective deafness) all seemed to blend right in with the things the other children were doing.
We saw Ray and Stacey in a play. I talked to my aunt for hours. The children got to swim and wade. I helped start a little garden. I saw just about everyone I hoped to see for almost long enough.
Now we're home. And we slipped right back into this place I love so much that lacks my dear family but abounds in people I hold dear. We started our first day back in a perfect way- we went to a pie breakfast at Woodbury elementary. I wished I had a camera, as it so typified my feelings about where I live. We were in a cafeteria that had a wooden floor with basketball boundaries painted on it. There were so many people in that little room having pie for breakfast (proceeds benefit the local library). Outside, the sun was shining, promising spring, and inside, everyone chatted and drank coffee and waited their turn and made room for the newcomers. It was a great welcome home.
Riverwalk
Cousins
More Cousins
The drive home was uneventful. We drove. And drove. We stayed at a Days Inn for $45 that seemed pretty clean at 11:00 when we went to sleep and at 7:00 when we woke up; really, we were awake for under one hour in the room. (Here would be a good place for a picture I know Jason has. C'est la vie.)
Our visit went really well. There's something nice about seeing my children playing with so many of my family's children. Our quirkiness stood out at times, but the things I actually worry about (temper, boundaries, selective deafness) all seemed to blend right in with the things the other children were doing.
We saw Ray and Stacey in a play. I talked to my aunt for hours. The children got to swim and wade. I helped start a little garden. I saw just about everyone I hoped to see for almost long enough.
Now we're home. And we slipped right back into this place I love so much that lacks my dear family but abounds in people I hold dear. We started our first day back in a perfect way- we went to a pie breakfast at Woodbury elementary. I wished I had a camera, as it so typified my feelings about where I live. We were in a cafeteria that had a wooden floor with basketball boundaries painted on it. There were so many people in that little room having pie for breakfast (proceeds benefit the local library). Outside, the sun was shining, promising spring, and inside, everyone chatted and drank coffee and waited their turn and made room for the newcomers. It was a great welcome home.
Riverwalk
Cousins
More Cousins
Friday, August 28, 2009
The Zero Area
In permaculture, the areas of a property are numbered by their use and the frequency one interacts with them. The home is considered zero. It's the space we spend the most time in; it reflects what we tell ourselves and how we tend ourselves. Currently, our zero area reflects our priorities and where we find comfort.
We have the majority of the house covered in wide pine boards, and this was a huge lift in cleanliness and comfort. Phaedra had found the house much too ugly before her room had new pine floors. Jason and the carpenters will have these floors all sanded and finished by this time next week. I actually am eagerly anticipating how clean and smooth the floors will feel.
I have been painting and painting and painting, which makes everything brighter and cleaner. Our love of color shows throughout the house. And, like I said, it feels cleaner.
Today, Jason and Todd began laying the new subflooring in the dining room and kitchen, carefully leveling the most troublesome spots so that the flooring will be less problematic. Again, the floor already feels cleaner.
Other points that we have hammered away at- we have a wood stove and wood for it so that we won't have to rely on oil. We have a nice new set of french doors that let in lots of light and allow easier access to the clothesline; they also facilitate moving in our furniture which is still sitting in the barn.
I am anxious to move in our furniture so I can feel settled in this house. And the floors, the painting, and the doors were all the first steps to getting our zero point set so that we can spread from that point into the other areas of our land.
We have the majority of the house covered in wide pine boards, and this was a huge lift in cleanliness and comfort. Phaedra had found the house much too ugly before her room had new pine floors. Jason and the carpenters will have these floors all sanded and finished by this time next week. I actually am eagerly anticipating how clean and smooth the floors will feel.
I have been painting and painting and painting, which makes everything brighter and cleaner. Our love of color shows throughout the house. And, like I said, it feels cleaner.
Today, Jason and Todd began laying the new subflooring in the dining room and kitchen, carefully leveling the most troublesome spots so that the flooring will be less problematic. Again, the floor already feels cleaner.
Other points that we have hammered away at- we have a wood stove and wood for it so that we won't have to rely on oil. We have a nice new set of french doors that let in lots of light and allow easier access to the clothesline; they also facilitate moving in our furniture which is still sitting in the barn.
I am anxious to move in our furniture so I can feel settled in this house. And the floors, the painting, and the doors were all the first steps to getting our zero point set so that we can spread from that point into the other areas of our land.
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