Our Plum Tree

The thing I think I will miss most about the little red house when we leave is the plum tree. It's not a very productive tree, and the fruit is tiny, but Patrick and I were married under it's branches. Then a few years later it was in full bloom on the stormy January night Elizabeth was born. Every year we have told her that it blooms as a gift for her birthday, and we have come to call it Elizabeth's tree. I mourn to leave it, but we will remember the joy we have felt under and in it's branches, picking the fruit it creates to pass on its life, making vows to entwine our lives, and bearing a new life of our own. We will try to take a cutting or plant a pit from the harvest this year. I sure hope we are successful, but even if we aren't, I will always remember Elizabeth's plum tree.

Another Omelet!?

As I considered my options for our second 100-foot meal, I was at first sort of annoyed that my ingredient list this week isn't any different than it was last week. "What am I going to write about if we just eat the same thing again? How boring. 'Look, here's another omelet. End of post'."

It occured to me only when I was photographing the meal that eating eggs again is anything but boring. It is in fact miraculous. I happen to think that eggs may well be the most beautiful thing found in mother nature. I never tire of finding a warm egg nestled in the hay in the barn. It really actually makes me feel excited and special every single time I find one. I never just rush it in the house and stick it in the egg carton in the refrigerator. No, every time I come across a newly laid egg I cradle it in my palm and marvel at how perfectly designed such a thing is, from a human or a chicken perspective.

For a hen, an egg is a way to raise a whole lot of babies at once and therefore insure that some of them will survive to make more chickens. It amazes me that an egg can wait weeks in the cold before a hen decides she has laid enough to spend a few weeks sitting on the nest. Her warmth helps the previously dormant creature inside that shell quickly grow into a perfect little chick, ready to walk and peep and eat the day it hatches.

For those of us with opposable thumbs and slightly larger brains, the egg is no less awesome. Here is a portable food storage device like no other. Eggs keep much longer than most of us think, and really don't need to be stored in as cold a place as our refrigerator. We keep them there out of habit, but a farm-fresh egg will keep in a cool place like a cellar for weeks and weeks. And for those of us who eat with the seasons, the egg is a celebration of spring. Though supermarket eggs are available 365 days a year, our hens only recently began laying again after taking a break during the short, dark days of winter. The first few eggs felt like tiny miracles! We carefully considered how to prepare them. As the days lengthened the girls gave us more eggs each day. Now we find between 6 and 8 every morning.

This morning I sauteed some of the volunteer arugula that just grows in the yard and tucked it inside the omelet, and sprinkled chives on top. I took some pictures, then Aliana and Ellie and I sat down to eat. It was delicious. It tasted just right. It sounds kind of trite, but it tasted like spring, like what we ought to be eating on a morning in march. The girls and I felt really fortunate to be eating such tasty food from our own homestead. It's not a glamorous life, but it is satisfying and fun.

Friday

Isidore the photographer

When Isidore was attending preschool for awhile Patrick and I were naturally asked to take pictures at school for events and yearbook pages and things. Once when I had my camera along Isidore asked if he could use it. He uses both my camera and Aliana's all the time, so I thought nothing of it. A few minutes later he came crying to me because another parent at the school took the camera away from him, thinking he wasn't supposed to be using it. I explained that he had my permission to take pictures, but the other parent couldn't quite believe I would be so foolish as to hand such an expensive piece of equipment to a four-year old. Hey, I figure if I start his training now he'll be taking over sooner, and off to retirement I'll go!





Here are a few of his shots.

The really blurry one is Elizabeth somersalting. I love that one.

Victory Garden

Planting and caring for the garden this year is a little tricky. We will be living on the mountain by the end of the summer, perhaps even sooner, so I am planting things up there this spring. I’ve run into a bit of trouble because I'm not up there every day to plant and because watering is not as easy as turning on the hose anymore. Up there I have to find a way to get the water from the spring that's halfway down the hill to the thirsty plants at the top.


Right now the way I accomplish this is to use a plastic barrel to haul the water up in the back of the truck and park slightly higher than the garden. I connect a hose to the barrel. What I hope to be doing by next year is using the strength of my darling mule, Dina, instead of the truck. She is eager to work; I just need to find more time to train her to drive. That, too, will be easier when we are living there full time.


The opportunity for the kids to grow up smack dab in the middle of nowhere sets my soul at ease in a way I thought would never happen, but the chance to feed my family also thrills me. In a few years we will probably be close to self-sufficient. I’ve been working on this goal all the years we’ve been in the little red house, but now I have acres to work with! Each year we set aside some money to spend on edible plants and necessary tools. Last year we added 12 fruit trees to the yard. I have moved them to the mountain, and most of them seem to be in good shape. This year I ordered lots and lots of seeds so that I can have enough for this year and the next in case my seed-saving attempts don’t go well. I am saving the extra in tightly sealed jars in the refrigerator. In each jar I have a silica packet to keep them dry. I’ll put them to the fridge at the shop after we move up to the land of no electricity.


Up on the mountain I am planting lots of different edible perennials. I’ve already put in hazelnuts, huckleberries, strawberries, rhubarb, and wintergreen. On the way are seaberry, honeyberry, fig, red and golden raspberries, elderberry, kiwi, wolfberry, and a green tea plant.
Most of what I ordered this year came from Territorial Seed Company in Oregon. They come highly recommended for their care with seed trials and seed storage. I am using two books written by the former owner of the company, Steve Solomon. One is called Growing Vegetables West of the Cascades, the other is Gardening When it Counts: Growing Food in Hard Times. I like the first book because the climate he writes about is like mine, not like most gardening books whose authors assume you actually have a summer and a winter. I just have a wet season and a dry season. The latter title has very good advice about growing vegetables with little or no irrigation.

Why we should all be like Aliana

My oldest child is the most practical person I have ever known. She prefers the most direct way to accomplish any task, even if it’s more difficult, nobody else does it that way, or she looks silly doing it. She also really takes advice to heart. It doesn’t generally occur to her to ask for it, but if someone points out a way she can improve whatever she is doing, she tries it out.

She has been working on drawings of dragons and other strange creatures that her Nonna is going to make into a quilt. I noticed that the work wasn’t her best and made some suggestions about how she could use the direction of her strokes to create realistic texture. Like I actually know anything about drawing- give me a camera, thank you very much. But she listened to me and then dove into a pile of paper and crayons and came out the next day with a dozen gorgeous drawings.

I am very proud of her for her effort, but what really stands out to me is what she didn’t do. I imagine what I might have said to her had she taken it upon herself to critique a lousy meal I set in front of her for dinner. I have to confess it probably wouldn’t have been so polite. I might have defended my gummy rice and overcooked broccoli as acceptable, made an excuse about having a long day, or perhaps found something to criticize about her in return. I’m pretty sure most of us wouldn’t have behaved as she did upon receiving unsolicited advice.

She thanked me for my help and went to work.

I’m going to try that next time.

Ostara

We had a lovely little celebration. It began with chocolate bunnies for breakfast and ended with egg-salad sandwiches for dinner. Each of the kids received a plant for the garden and some art supplies. Isidore went right to work on the workbook the Easter bunny left him.

Isidore and Aliana melted my heart by sharing with Elizabeth as they found eggs in the yard , and even leaving some easy-to-find ones for her. When they returned to the house they divided them up equally. Did I mention how much I love my kids?

Using natural materials for egg dyes worked wonderfully. Aliana and I both voted to use them from now on. Clean up was easier and the leftovers were a lovely thank you gift for the hens.

The bright yellow/orange eggs were dyed in a bath of yellow onion skins and turmeric. The brownish-purple marbled effect was made with grape juice. We used raw eggs and hard-boiled them right in the dye bath. I didn't get a picture of the gorgeous purple we got by just rubbing cut beets on cooked eggs. We had no success with the red cabbage to make teal. Next time we will cook some eggs first and then soak them overnight in the cabbage water.

An entirely un-original thought

I love my kids so much it hurts.

I love it when Elizabeth tells me her name is "Ellie-Belly Penelope Works".

I love it when Izzy asks me if I will be his cuddle bug.

I love it when Aliana reminds me not to bite my nails.

It's Monday, and it's already been a really long week.

Song of the Week

Every week or so the kids and I try to learn the lyrics to a new song. This week we are working on Frog Went A-Courtin'. We have this version: http://www.amazon.com/Frog-Went-Courtin-John-Langstaff/dp/015230214X but I found a website that offers a much longer version of the ballad: http://home.earthlink.net/~highying/froggy/froggy2.html

The version we are learning goes like this:

Frog went a-courtin, he did ride,

Sword and pistol by his side.

When upon his high horse set,

His boots they shone as black as jet.

He rode right up to the mouse's hall,

Where he most tenderly did call:

"Oh, Mistress Mouse, are you within?"

"Yes, kind frog, I sit to spin."

He set miss mousie on his knee,

"Pray, Miss Mouse, will you marry me?"

"Without my Uncle Rat's consent

I would not marry the president!"

Then Uncle Rat he soon comes home,

"Who's been here since I've been gone?"

"A pretty little dandyman," says she,

"Who swears he wants to marry me."

"Where will the wedding breakfast be?"

"Way down yonder in the hollow tree."

"What will the wedding breakfast be?"

"Three green beans and a black-eyed pea."

"Who will make the wedding gown?"

"Old Miss Rat from Pumpkin town."

So Uncle Rat gave his consent,

And that's the way the marriage went.

The first to come in was a little white moth,

To spread on the table cloth.

Next to come in was a big black bug,

On his back was a cider jug.

Next to come in was Mister Coon,

Waving about a silver spoon.

Next to come in was a spotted snake,

Passing 'round the wedding cake.

Next to come in was a bumblebee,

A banjo buckled on his knee.

Next to come in was a nimble flea,

To dance a jig for the bumblebee.

Next to come in was the old gray goose,

She picked up her fiddle and she cut loose.

Next to come in were two little ants,

Fixin' 'round to have a dance.

Next to come in was a little ol' fly,

He ate up all the wedding pie.

Next to come in was a little chick,

He ate so much it made him sick.

The last to come in was the old tom cat.

He said, "I'll put a stop to that!"

The frog and the mouse they went to France,

And this is the end of my romance.

Frog's bridle and saddle are laid on the shelf.

If you want anymore you'll have to sing it yourself!

First 100 foot diet meal

We didn't have our customary special Friday night meal last night, so our first 100% homegrown meal was breakfast. An omelet was the natural choice.

Our ingredients were eggs from our faithful hens, homemade feta cheese, and some chives snipped from the garden. We also made a nice pot of homegrown chamomile tea. It was simple and wonderful. We had a bright, sunny morning meal before we all headed off to work.

Under the teapot there you can see the table runner that my genius sister (we dropped the in-law part awhile ago) Francine made. She is the crazy quilting queen. She creates one-of-a-kind pieces for sale, if you are interested.

Comments

I think I've removed the annoying barriers to posting a comment. You can choose to be anonymous and then you just have to type in the funny-shaped letters in the box. Try to pronounce those. It's good for a laugh.

Spring magic

Most mornings at least one of the kids comes out help me with the chores. I milk and feed the goats while Aliana cares for her rabbits. Taking care of the chickens, though, usually falls to the earliest riser of the day. Heading out to the yard in the morning sun we all enjoy seeing the girls come flapping, hopping and running to eat their morning ration of cracked corn and kitchen scraps. As the days have lengthened the chance to do chicken duty has become a more and more powerful incentive to get out of bed. This is because the hens have a very good clock in their little chicken brains, and as we enjoy more and more daylight they lay more and more eggs. Another part of their bird instinct tells them to hide those eggs. So our dear girls lay their eggs all over the place!

This is where the children come in. After the girls have settled down for breakfast the kids take their baskets and have an egg hunt.

Yep, every morning. We have nice, neat little nesting boxes that we built, but the hens ignore those in favor of dark corners of the shed and inviting bushes. The first child who makes it outside in the morning has the best chance at finding the real prize- a green egg. Two of our dozen or so hens are Americaunas. They lay naturally green-shelled eggs. Ladybug and Siren are their names, and they are getting old for chickens, so the green eggs don't come as regularly as they used to. Therefore discovering a green egg has become a special event.

As we approached Easter this year we began to save up the green eggs, as well as the white ones. This year we are going to try using dyes made of natural materials to color the eggs. I found a list here:

http://www.lakewinds.com/store/Natural-Egg-Dye-Recipes-W4698C18760.aspx

I was also pleasantly surprised to find a list of natural dyeing materials in the magazine that our grocery store puts out. Here here!

Isidore reminded me that last year the Easter bunny left some muddy paw prints on the kitchen table when he ate the carrot we left out for him. I do hope he will be a little tidier this year. I wonder if he knows the kids have had so much practice hunting for eggs. He better hide them really well.

Paparazzi

I think we might see Patrick next in the checkout line at the grocery store. National Enquirer here he comes!


http://www.register-pajaronian.com/V2_news_articles.php?heading=0&story_id=3737&page=73

Brown shoes and pretty dresses

Elizabeth has been referred to as "the carbon-fiber girl". She possesses amazing strength (of will) but packs it into a very small package . She began speaking in full sentences about five minutes after she was born, but has remained rather small for her age. We have gradually become used to hearing her try to use sophisticated reason to argue for three year old goals like having a larger helping of chocolate pudding than her brother. Along with the iron will, the shortest member of our family makes up for her diminutive size with a well-developed sense of fashion. This is NOT something she has inherited from me. On the other hand, Patrick can make the whole family laugh when he asks one of the kids to get his brown shoes from the shelf. This chore can involve many trips to the shelf for the poor kid assigned to the job.

"No, not those. The other brown shoes."

He has many, many brown shoes.

This is actually how we keep the children in such good health; lots of fresh vegetables and running back and forth to the closet for dad.

Elizabeth recently gave up pants. There is no arguing with the will of a three year old girl when it comes to what she is going to wear. Dresses and skirts it is. And clickety-clackety shoes. She also changes outfits approximately seventy-eight times in each twenty-four hour period, along with her mood.

So, we have a running deal now. Mom or Dad puts up the cash for a new dress from time to time, and the curly haired one is required to model said frock in the studio before enjoying a meal involving ketchup or any recreation that exposes the pristine garment to dirt. After the clean dress is recorded she is free to get back to life and be a dirty little ragamuffin girl.

100 Foot Diet Challenge

I have decided to participate in an online challenge proposed by the gang at Path to Freedom. If you don't know who they are you should. They give me hope even on days when I can't bring myself to listen to the news because it's all so dismal. Click the link on the top left of this page to go to their site.



The challenge is called the 100 Foot Diet Challenge. Check it out here:



http://urbanhomestead.org/journal/2008/01/06/100-foot-diet-challenge-launch/



The idea is to grow a portion of our own food because having cheap food filling our grocery store shelves all the time depends on an infrastructure that isn't going to remain stable over the coming years. For an explanation of why I say that, see one of the other links at the top left of the page, Casaubon's Book. She writes far more eloquently than I do, and presents news and information about climate change, peak oil and the economy, as well as practical ways to deal with the changes ahead of us.


:: Guidelines ::


A meal must be comprised of food grown on your property or garden plot (literally or figuratively within - 100 feet - of your front or back door). If not from BACKYARD, then Locally produced (PTF’s addition)If not LOCALLY PRODUCED, then Organic.If not ORGANIC, then Family farm.If not FAMILY FARM, then Local business.If not a LOCAL BUSINESS, then Fair Trade.

I hope we will be eating at least one meal per week created from foods grown in our garden or barnyard. We could actually probably manage more than one, even this time of year. We have created a tradition in our family of sharing a special meal each Friday night. I am planning to try to make our Friday meals out of home-grown ingredients.

So... it's March, and in the garden right now we have some collards that are going to go to seed pretty soon, a few straggly leeks, some volunteer greens and assorted herbs. The chickens are laying six or seven eggs every day and our dear goat Joanna is blessing us with about a half a gallon of milk every day. That milk can be magically turned into yogurt, mozzarella or ricotta. In the freezer we have several packages of frozen home-raised goat and chicken. In the pantry we have home-raised chicken broth and canned chicken.

What wealth! Our family has been reading the Little House books aloud for more than a year now. We are making our way through the last one now. Have you read The Long Winter? It causes one to appreciate food in a new light. It should be required reading for picky eaters.

I'll tell you what I come up with for tomorrow's dinner!

Photographs

Hey family people, if you want me to print copies of any of the photographs on the blog for you, just leave me a comment or email me and I will do so and send them along to you.

I'm a Criminal

I imagine you might have heard that an appellate court in California has ruled that homeschooling is illegal unless the parent is a certified teacher.

http://www.bayareanewsgroup.com/multimedia/mn/news/homeschool_opinion_030708.pdf

Wow. So until our lawmakers fix things up I am living on the wrong side of the law. Sure guys, and is is also illegal to kiss my kids' booboos when they skin their knees, limit after-dinner treats to one per day, or take them to the library? For our family, learning with our children is just part of how we choose to live our lives. The very idea that other people think they have a right to tell us whether or not we are permitted to do so boggles my mind. I could go on all night, but I won't. I don't think this ruling will be upheld by higher courts, so I don't worry about any real impact on our lives.

Strawberries

We are blessed to have many friends and neighbors who work for the strawberry farms which surround us here. During berry season they share... a lot. I haven't bought strawberries in years, but we have a cupboard full of homemade strawberry jam. Years past I also sliced and froze bags of them for baking. This spring, though, I am anticipating living without refrigeration. By the end of the summer our family will be living on the mountain full time. So I bought a book called Preserving Food without Freezing or Canning: Traditional Techniques Using Salt, Oil, Sugar, Alcohol, Vinegar, Drying, Cold Storage, and Lactic Fermentation.
The simplicity of the ideas in it is astonishing. I read it as I sat at my kitchen table with Rory. She was reading something of her own, but every five minutes I interupted her with another exclamation that usually went something like, "No way! That's amazing, why don't I know that?" or "Why do we can food with heat again?"

My favorite recipe goes like this:

Ingredients
Blueberries
Honey

Instructions
Put blueberries in jars. Brush jar lids with honey. Screw lids on jars. Will keep 1-2 years.

Yep, you read that right. 1-2 years. There is similar recipe for tomatoes, which is one canned food I would be hard-pressed to cook (or live) without.

My ideas about what our pantry and our meals will be like when we are off-grid are still forming. This book has done a lot to broaden my thinking about how I will preserve and prepare food.

The Zoo

Last week our intrepid friend Donna took all three kids to the San Francisco Zoo. They all really wanted to see the newborn giraffe. Unfortunately the mother wouldn't nurse, so they weren't able to see the baby. As you can see in the pictures, though, our dear Aliana had a very special moment with daddy giraffe. She fed him several bananas with her hands, and then the handler suggested she try something a little different.

I must say I personally would not have said yes, but our tallest child is definately a friend of animalkind. Whenever a chicken needs to be caught for wing clipping or dinner she actually becomes a member of the flock. She bends over, uses her arms as wings and begins to speak chicken. I swear. She imitates their happy little clucks and peeps and assures them that she's just a slightly larger breed, and then just scoops one up by the feet and presents it to me proudly.

One morning several years ago I was brushing my teeth when Aliana appeared at the bathroom door with a quart size mason jar in her hand.

"Bellemere?" she said.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Um, I have a wound."

"What happened?"

"A gopher bit me."

I swallowed my toothpaste and at that point noticed that there was actually a very large live rodent in the jar, and a lot of blood on Aliana'a other hand.

I took the jar from her, covered it with a heavy book and called Donna of the zoo trip, who's a nurse.

After the wound was cleaned and the gopher disposed of I was able to ask Aliana how exactly she came to have a gopher bite.

It turns out it was actually in my defense. Before you imagine a rabid gopher throwing himself against the front door, let me explain.

She was collecting interesting bugs in the vegetable garden and saw Mr. Gopher pop his near-sighted little head out of his hole. She immediately thought of how much I love my garden and the damage he might do. She decided the thing to do would be to pick up him up and stuff him in the jar she was holding to get him out of the garden. He didn't like the plan as much as she did, and he chomped her.

This is the detail that gets me: She didn't let go. She screamed and then continued to cram him the in jar.

Aliana, the girl who is often more animal than person.

Famous

Patrick is famous again. Isn't he cute? Nice sneakers, too.

Our small town paper is actually the smallest newspaper to ever be awarded a Pulitzer Prize. There, now you know.

Snip

We have opened a new photography studio downtown and yesterday we held our ribbon-cutting. The studio is very small, and we were expecting around 150 bodies to show up to help celebrate and schmooz. When I opened my eyes yesterday morning after a long, mostly sleepless night with a teething, sick three-year old I saw clouds and heard... rain. Rain?! No, we CANNOT have rain. It has been sunny for two weeks, our party is today and we cannot have rain.


I suggested calling a voodoo priestess. Patrick tried the party rental store instead and ordered some pop-up tents and an outdoor heater.

The sun and the clouds took turns teasing us all day, but by party time it was sunny and glorious. Patrick made a very short speech into which he somehow managed to work a John Lennon quote. We ran out of wine and had to get more, a very good sign that we had even more people show up than we had anticipated. There was only one spill inside the studio, not caused by an inebriated guest but by the aforementioned beautifully dressed but very cranky Elizabeth. She loved the oportunity to wear a brand new, really fancy dress and eat chocolate-covered strawberries, but she was not pleased to share her daddy with "too many people!".

Isidore played his guitar and enjoyed his new plaid shoes. Several of his friends brought their parents. Aliana asked me to buy her a dress for the evening. *gasp* She also tried out dress shoes for the first time, and pronounced them uncomfortable. To avoid, in her words, a constellation of blisters, she abandoned them halfway through the evening and just played on the grass like a sensible girl.

I hate parties, and usually hide or stay very busy with something. This time though, I actually found things to talk to people about and enjoyed myself. Hmmm, I must be getting older.

Clutter Busters

Clutter beware... as soon as they finish making faces.







The amazing thing is that these crowns actually work. There was an arguement over who got to take out the extra trash can at the shop today.

Old hand

Spring is coming

Help with the laundry

Math in the afternoon