There are no pictures.
So, the fellow came and we were gathering the materials, and I went to put the dogs in the house to keep them out of the way. And there was a shot. Just one.
When I made it to the house, Sylvie was standing by the front door; she asked, "Is Chappy dead?" After I said yes, she asked, "Aren't you excited?"
And I guess I am a little excited that our freezer will be full of meat that we raised right here. I do like having cuts of meat that I would never buy. I like feeling like we have an endless supply of one of my favorite instant foods- ground beef.
I'm also a little sad. But that wasn't going to get the job done today.
I saw how big a heifer's stomach is relative to her body. In my head, roughly half of my torso has intestines curled back and forth filling the cavity. In a chicken, I know there is a surprising amount of intestine in such a little body. Now, imagine if you will a cow, big squarish torso. Now fill at least half of that enormous cavity with stomach. It was amazing.
Also, a cow's liver is an unbelievable size; it must weigh between 15 and 20 pounds.
I got to watch how to dress a cow before taking it to be hung. The meat will hang for about 2 weeks in a refrigerated locker, then it will be cut up and ready for our freezer.
Finally, I will say that Violet is very disturbed. Maybe I am projecting, but I don't think so. She's sad. Her face is covered in tears. And I'm sorry for my part in the food chain, but not sorry enough to quit eating meat. I do not feel any remorse for killing Chappy; it was quickly done after a very pleasant, uneventful life. I do wish there was a way to make it easier on Violet.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Flowers for Memory
I planted two varieties of flowers this summer to honor two ladies I miss dearly.
Here are the gladiolas I planted, so the children will know what my mother's favorite flowers looked like.
And I planted four o'clocks, because my friend Janet once told me how much she liked them.
I find it funny, because the contrast of the flowers also reminds that I loved different things about each lady.
And I planted four o'clocks, because my friend Janet once told me how much she liked them.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Canning and Beautiful Things
I'm very practical and not overly interested in "decoration". However, when I have to interact with something steadily, I do enjoy it being a pleasure to look at and deal with. I prefer wooden knitting needles, for example, because they are pretty and functional; I do not mind that they are a bit slower to knit with. On the other hand, I do not have decorative knitting needles because in my experience, the decorations interfere with the function.
I recently went searching for pretty canning lids. There is a stretch of time in the summer when my canning supplies take a prominent position in my days. Then, all winter, I get to bask in the pleasing beauty of our garden in glittering canning jars. So, I thought to increase the pleasure of this endeavor by having nice canning lids.
I did not find canning lids like I had in mind, but I did discover that the regular Ball or Kerr canning lids have a plastic coating that contains BPA. I guess I should have realized this before, but I did not. In the discussion of this, I discovered Weck jars. They are really beautiful, but prohibitively expensive, especially if you already have an adequate stash of canning jars. Jason and I decided that we would just buy a few a year, as we always buy a few jars to replace ones that have gotten damaged or been given as gifts.
And what better thing to try out these jars on than peaches- one of the prettiest things we can.
Here we have half and quarter liter Weck jars beside half-pint and pint Ball jars. That gives you an idea of size. And that's peach butter, blueberry jam (syrup), strawberry jam, and ginger peach jam. Yum!
And finally, a word about this book:
It's a good book with good recipes. It isn't as paranoid as many canning books; the author's goal is not to scare you away from canning. And maybe you don't agree with me, but I think many, many books and extension agency pamphlets want to convince you that you WILL die from botulism if you foolishly decide to put your own food by.
The problem with this book is that a few recipes just fail. And nothing is as frustrating as eight quarts of blueberry jam that just won't gel. Yep, that's right, the jam I cooked for HOURS did not set. On further investigation, I think her recipe is FAR short (at least half the amount) of the amount of sugar required to do no-added-pectin jam. If you have never had jam not set, just trust me when I say it will make me sad all winter even as we enjoy the blueberry syrup that was supposed to be jam.
I recently went searching for pretty canning lids. There is a stretch of time in the summer when my canning supplies take a prominent position in my days. Then, all winter, I get to bask in the pleasing beauty of our garden in glittering canning jars. So, I thought to increase the pleasure of this endeavor by having nice canning lids.
I did not find canning lids like I had in mind, but I did discover that the regular Ball or Kerr canning lids have a plastic coating that contains BPA. I guess I should have realized this before, but I did not. In the discussion of this, I discovered Weck jars. They are really beautiful, but prohibitively expensive, especially if you already have an adequate stash of canning jars. Jason and I decided that we would just buy a few a year, as we always buy a few jars to replace ones that have gotten damaged or been given as gifts.
And what better thing to try out these jars on than peaches- one of the prettiest things we can.
It's a good book with good recipes. It isn't as paranoid as many canning books; the author's goal is not to scare you away from canning. And maybe you don't agree with me, but I think many, many books and extension agency pamphlets want to convince you that you WILL die from botulism if you foolishly decide to put your own food by.
The problem with this book is that a few recipes just fail. And nothing is as frustrating as eight quarts of blueberry jam that just won't gel. Yep, that's right, the jam I cooked for HOURS did not set. On further investigation, I think her recipe is FAR short (at least half the amount) of the amount of sugar required to do no-added-pectin jam. If you have never had jam not set, just trust me when I say it will make me sad all winter even as we enjoy the blueberry syrup that was supposed to be jam.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Blueberries
Maybe you don't know, but berry picking pretty much defines summer in Vermont. You know real summer is here when you're kneeling between rows of strawberries. The flies and mosquitos will hover around you, and the sun will beat down on you, because that's how it goes in late June. Of course, a storm might also chase you right out of the wide open berry patch. The strawberry patches I've been to seem to nestle down in flat places close to water.
After you pick strawberries, you've got to do something with them. They spoil pretty quickly, and in my experience, are best canned or frozen the same day they're picked. In our house, no one likes frozen strawberries, so we make ours into jam. And there's really nothing quite so tasty as homemade strawberry jam- unless it's raspberry.
After strawberries come the raspberries. You can pick the black ones first, but can also wait and pick black and red together, and then pick more black when the red have almost gone by. If you're a fan of black raspberries (me! me!), you have to be prepared to pick them over the course of days if you want very many. They seem to ripen bit by bit instead of in a big wave. The red raspberries are perhaps the favorite jamberry in our house. Their seeds are smaller and they are a very nice contrast to the sugar in jam. And they definitely must be processed the same day you pick them. I've seen raspberries mold in under twelve hours. (doesn't that make you wonder what they do to the ones in the grocery store?)
Before you've quite recovered from raspberry canning, it's time for blueberries. And blueberries are definitely worth freezing. We also like them canned in syrup. We use them all winter and spring, so it never seems we have quite enough. We use them for pies, cobblers, waffles, muffins, and as a hot compote for pound cake. I serve them in March when we all are needing some sunshine. I mix them into the 30th jar of applesauce to make it seem more interesting. What we don't do with blueberries is make jam. The skins are just too aggressive. Also, an interesting tidbit- blueberries taste better if you pick them and wait to put them away until the next day. They sweeten a bit more without spoiling.
Finally, there are the blackberries. Just like black raspberries, you have to content yourself with multiple pickings, and of course, the thorns will get you. These are my favorite berry of all time, and I do not mind the thorns or the seeds. We have yet to pick enough to do anything more than eat them fresh. I thought this year we would have plenty, but the birds have already cleaned the green berries out of one patch, leaving the small patch by the house for us. I guess I'll groom that patch and let it spread until all my berry dreams can be fulfilled.
Today was blueberry day. The children and I picked 21 pounds. We should probably go and pick that much again. So, there are berries sitting on the table that I'll tuck into the freezer tomorrow.
And we have gooseberries and currants that I only planted last year. Our hope is to grow all the berries we want, but we're a long way from that. The blueberry bushes and strawberries each made about a pound of berries this year, the raspberries were similar, and the currants and gooseberries did almost nothing. So, we'll treat them kindly, and see what next summer brings.
After you pick strawberries, you've got to do something with them. They spoil pretty quickly, and in my experience, are best canned or frozen the same day they're picked. In our house, no one likes frozen strawberries, so we make ours into jam. And there's really nothing quite so tasty as homemade strawberry jam- unless it's raspberry.
After strawberries come the raspberries. You can pick the black ones first, but can also wait and pick black and red together, and then pick more black when the red have almost gone by. If you're a fan of black raspberries (me! me!), you have to be prepared to pick them over the course of days if you want very many. They seem to ripen bit by bit instead of in a big wave. The red raspberries are perhaps the favorite jamberry in our house. Their seeds are smaller and they are a very nice contrast to the sugar in jam. And they definitely must be processed the same day you pick them. I've seen raspberries mold in under twelve hours. (doesn't that make you wonder what they do to the ones in the grocery store?)
Before you've quite recovered from raspberry canning, it's time for blueberries. And blueberries are definitely worth freezing. We also like them canned in syrup. We use them all winter and spring, so it never seems we have quite enough. We use them for pies, cobblers, waffles, muffins, and as a hot compote for pound cake. I serve them in March when we all are needing some sunshine. I mix them into the 30th jar of applesauce to make it seem more interesting. What we don't do with blueberries is make jam. The skins are just too aggressive. Also, an interesting tidbit- blueberries taste better if you pick them and wait to put them away until the next day. They sweeten a bit more without spoiling.
Finally, there are the blackberries. Just like black raspberries, you have to content yourself with multiple pickings, and of course, the thorns will get you. These are my favorite berry of all time, and I do not mind the thorns or the seeds. We have yet to pick enough to do anything more than eat them fresh. I thought this year we would have plenty, but the birds have already cleaned the green berries out of one patch, leaving the small patch by the house for us. I guess I'll groom that patch and let it spread until all my berry dreams can be fulfilled.
Today was blueberry day. The children and I picked 21 pounds. We should probably go and pick that much again. So, there are berries sitting on the table that I'll tuck into the freezer tomorrow.
And we have gooseberries and currants that I only planted last year. Our hope is to grow all the berries we want, but we're a long way from that. The blueberry bushes and strawberries each made about a pound of berries this year, the raspberries were similar, and the currants and gooseberries did almost nothing. So, we'll treat them kindly, and see what next summer brings.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Swimming
I love swimming.
When I was little, the story goes, my mother was trying to get my brother in his floaty, and I disappeared. They found me (quickly, it seems) sitting on the bottom of the pool, grinning. When I was even smaller, I marched into a duck pond with my expensive Easter shoes on. I was swimming proficiently before I can remember; I really only remember the blue silence of swimming under water.
In Austin, I discovered swimming heaven at Barton Springs. The water was cold, there was no chlorine, it was vast, so you didn't have to compete for space, and it was deep enough to swim way down into the silence. I didn't actually learn to dive until I was swimming there- anything to get into the water faster.
Now I live in the land of pretty much no swimming pools, no chlorine. There are lakes and ponds and rivers seemingly everywhere. All three children are strong swimmers and never balk at cold water. Becoming a mother apparently meant I never have to swim alone, and boy, do we swim. The only trying part has been that lakes and rivers and most ponds do not offer a good place to jump in. Even that we've overcome. There's a beautiful swimming hole with a huge rock; it's a long-ish drive, but worth it to jump in. And, we found a place just a few minutes from us that has a dam that's safe to dive off.
There is another place that has a sand beach, and if you want to see people you know, that's the place to go. I heard someone joke that it's the only time they get to visit with their neighbors, because this is the place for resting in the sun while the children frolic. It's the place to launch yourself into the water as soon as you have waded in far enough. You might take a jacket except on the warmest days, because betweeen the cold water and the ever-present wind, it can get nippy if you're wet.
And that's the place where Ladies of the Lake came into being.
Last year, four Ladies of the Lake swam all the way across this small lake. We were in the water just over an hour. It was cold, it was invigorating; we decided to do it again.
Today, two Ladies of the Lake swam across and along Lake Eligo. It's a narrow, long lake, with two public spots. We swam from one beach down the lake to the boat dock and then back again. It took maybe 1.5 hours of steady, slow breast stroke. The breast stroke is important, because that way you can chat and swim. Also, if you're doing the breast stroke, you suck in less water when you scream your head off because a water plant attacked you. If you're the person laughing, I recommend a nice back float.
Who knows where we'll swim next year, but it will be fun picking a place. I think I'm going to suggest a couple of preparatory swims; it will build our confidence and help us try out a few area lakes.
When I was little, the story goes, my mother was trying to get my brother in his floaty, and I disappeared. They found me (quickly, it seems) sitting on the bottom of the pool, grinning. When I was even smaller, I marched into a duck pond with my expensive Easter shoes on. I was swimming proficiently before I can remember; I really only remember the blue silence of swimming under water.
In Austin, I discovered swimming heaven at Barton Springs. The water was cold, there was no chlorine, it was vast, so you didn't have to compete for space, and it was deep enough to swim way down into the silence. I didn't actually learn to dive until I was swimming there- anything to get into the water faster.
Now I live in the land of pretty much no swimming pools, no chlorine. There are lakes and ponds and rivers seemingly everywhere. All three children are strong swimmers and never balk at cold water. Becoming a mother apparently meant I never have to swim alone, and boy, do we swim. The only trying part has been that lakes and rivers and most ponds do not offer a good place to jump in. Even that we've overcome. There's a beautiful swimming hole with a huge rock; it's a long-ish drive, but worth it to jump in. And, we found a place just a few minutes from us that has a dam that's safe to dive off.
There is another place that has a sand beach, and if you want to see people you know, that's the place to go. I heard someone joke that it's the only time they get to visit with their neighbors, because this is the place for resting in the sun while the children frolic. It's the place to launch yourself into the water as soon as you have waded in far enough. You might take a jacket except on the warmest days, because betweeen the cold water and the ever-present wind, it can get nippy if you're wet.
And that's the place where Ladies of the Lake came into being.
Last year, four Ladies of the Lake swam all the way across this small lake. We were in the water just over an hour. It was cold, it was invigorating; we decided to do it again.
Today, two Ladies of the Lake swam across and along Lake Eligo. It's a narrow, long lake, with two public spots. We swam from one beach down the lake to the boat dock and then back again. It took maybe 1.5 hours of steady, slow breast stroke. The breast stroke is important, because that way you can chat and swim. Also, if you're doing the breast stroke, you suck in less water when you scream your head off because a water plant attacked you. If you're the person laughing, I recommend a nice back float.
Who knows where we'll swim next year, but it will be fun picking a place. I think I'm going to suggest a couple of preparatory swims; it will build our confidence and help us try out a few area lakes.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Adventures in the Home Garden
Sometimes, you might find a caterpillar or four in your broccoli dish. And sometimes, you might have finished your serving before the caterpillars were noticed. And then, maybe, just maybe, you might be turned off your lunch, and you might promise to check the broccoli more carefully before you cook it next time.
Friday, July 22, 2011
In a Gear
I have felt a bit at sixes and sevens recently. Fortunately, the garden is in a good waiting phase, so I haven't let anything go by or get overrun with weeds while I've been spinning my wheels. The problem is that we have had swimming lessons every day for the last two weeks, and when I know I have to leave in a couple of hours, I have trouble starting a project. Then, the other day, I thought to make a little list for just the next two hours.
The good news is I have gotten a few things done. The strange thing is the way I feel about the whole thing.
Do you remember those doll houses that had little pressure things throughout? You could set the figures (maybe Weeble Wobbles?) on one of the spots, and it triggered a reaction. Like, I think it was supposed to be a haunted house, and eerie noises would emanate or pictures would change. Then, there are the model railways that "react" when the train passes over a particular portion of the track.
Well, I feel a little bit like I might not know what to do with myself until someone (hopefully me) sets me in front of a task. This morning, I went into the greenhouse, and then I was in "greenhouse mode". I worked steadily for two hours. Yesterday, I sat at my desk to do lesson planning, and I sat in the same place for two hours. If I place the figure of me in the garden, then BOOM! two hours gone in the garden.
It's not a nice sensation. It kind of makes me feel like Perseus in Clash of the Titans, just somebody's plaything to maneuver about. I would like to find the part of me that drives this organism and dope slap it into action. I prefer to feel I'm making choices, not just hammering away at something like a mechanical doll.
The good news is I have gotten a few things done. The strange thing is the way I feel about the whole thing.
Do you remember those doll houses that had little pressure things throughout? You could set the figures (maybe Weeble Wobbles?) on one of the spots, and it triggered a reaction. Like, I think it was supposed to be a haunted house, and eerie noises would emanate or pictures would change. Then, there are the model railways that "react" when the train passes over a particular portion of the track.
Well, I feel a little bit like I might not know what to do with myself until someone (hopefully me) sets me in front of a task. This morning, I went into the greenhouse, and then I was in "greenhouse mode". I worked steadily for two hours. Yesterday, I sat at my desk to do lesson planning, and I sat in the same place for two hours. If I place the figure of me in the garden, then BOOM! two hours gone in the garden.
It's not a nice sensation. It kind of makes me feel like Perseus in Clash of the Titans, just somebody's plaything to maneuver about. I would like to find the part of me that drives this organism and dope slap it into action. I prefer to feel I'm making choices, not just hammering away at something like a mechanical doll.
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