Take Joy!

He's Ba-a-a-ck!

Actually, this is another one . . . Groundhog the Second. He's been busy:

Not that we don't have plenty of stuff he can eat, but I'd just as soon stop him before he progresses to what the weather has left of my broccoli. So out comes the trap again, baited this time with lettuce, since I'm out of store broccoli and not disposed to give him any of the good stuff unless I have to.

However, he is apparently smarter than we are:

Obviously the vent needs to be pinned in with something stronger . . . to be continued, but hopefully  not for long.

Naptime

Kali and Widget share a snooze . . .

Independence Days #4

For Sharon's Independence Days Challenge.

1. plant something: Not so much, again, as it's still raining off and on. But John replated corn and beans, neither of which came up particularly well, and planted more summer squash, winter squash, beets, cucumbers, dill. Set out tomato plants. John has finally gotten all the potatoes hilled, in between showers. I potted some peppers and put in various flower and herb starts, some in pots and some in the southside flower bed. Also found another tiny feverfew plant, which I will transplant as soon as it stops raining for a while . . .  John planted wildflower mix seeds along the end of the garden and behind the house; we're hoping this will give us butterfly and bee plants.

2. harvest something: radishes, lettuce, rhubarb. (The sun needs to shine—I want peas!) Mint. Eggs (both chicken and turkey). Broccoli!

3. preserve something: Started a jar of oil infused with broadleaf plantain, for later ointment making. Dried violet leaves, for same. Dried oregano and mint. Froze another gallon of strawberries, in 2-serving batches.

4. reduce waste: The usual: line-drying clothes, attempting to minimize packing waste, weeding for chickens and goats. Chickens also get any and all leftovers gone past the point of eating by us, plate scraps, bits of peel and such. Any stale bread I don't use goes to the goats, who think dried-out whole-wheat bread is just the stuff! (I also give them eggshells when I use eggs, and haven't had any problem with them eating each other's eggs.) Saving plastic gallon milk containers (I wish I had a source for local milk, but I don't.) for water containers (watering plants, hauling water to little chickens who are still in their brooder box, mixing plant food, etc.) Trying to remember to go through the refrigerator more often and eat up little bits of leftovers, or give them to the chickens before they go bad. Mended John's shirts and a pair of jeans. (God, I hate mending! I'd rather make something from scratch. So now I feel all virtuous . . . )

5. preparation and storage: Nothing this week; it's the week before the SS check comes, so we are on short commons so far as buying things goes. I have a list, however . . . And I did gather all the band-aids, gauze, bandages, adhesive tape, etc. into one place and am looking for something handy to store them in. Preferably something I already have. Also found three rolls of masking tape and a roll of duct tape, and put them where I can find them. Sorted fabric stash, separating short pieces from actual clothing yardage. (Probably not important in the grand scheme of things, but I sew a lot. It's a barterable skill, I'm hoping.) Also, working on cutting box of odd scraps not large enough to do much with into small squares with which to make a quilt top, possibly this winter.

6. build community food systems: Not this week, I'm afraid. Though I did barter some jam and bread for a gallon of goats milk.

7. eat the food: Strawberry-rhubarb crisp. Potato salad, slaw. Made homemade hot dog buns, with mixed results. (Tasted good, but looked . . well, odd. More experimentation is in order.) Whole wheat, sourdough, and dill and onion bread. Red beans and rice. Sausage and biscuits. Much salad . . . sigh. (But be of good cheer—the spinach is nearly ready!) Tried radish greens in salad and was unimpressed—they're edible, but bristly.

Notes: Little chickens are ready to come out of the brooder boxes and be put into the next stage of confinement: a long net-and-pvc rectangle with a shelter on one end. That gets them used to being outside until they're big enough to go in a closed-off end of the chickenyard, where they can grow until they're too big to fit through the goat lot wire and they can get used to the big chickens and the turkeys (and they can get used to the little ones). Eggs are picking up a bit, but not much; we have turkeys setting, and the hens are much reduced—raccoon and hawk problems over the winter caused us to lose nearly all the new ones from last year and several older hens. But we're getting a dozen a day or so, plus the occasional turkey or guinea egg.

For Sharon's Independence Days Challenge.

1. plant something: Not so much, again, as it's still raining off and on. But John replated corn and beans, neither of which came up particularly well, and planted more summer squash, winter squash, beets, cucumbers, dill. Set out tomato plants. John has finally gotten all the potatoes hilled, in between showers. I potted some peppers and put in various flower and herb starts, some in pots and some in the southside flower bed. Also found another tiny feverfew plant, which I will transplant as soon as it stops raining for a while . . .  John planted wildflower mix seeds along the end of the garden and behind the house; we're hoping this will give us butterfly and bee plants.

2. harvest something: radishes, lettuce, rhubarb. (The sun needs to shine—I want peas!) Mint. Eggs (both chicken and turkey). Broccoli!

3. preserve something: Started a jar of oil infused with broadleaf plantain, for later ointment making. Dried violet leaves, for same. Dried oregano and mint. Froze another gallon of strawberries, in 2-serving batches.

4. reduce waste: The usual: line-drying clothes, attempting to minimize packing waste, weeding for chickens and goats. Chickens also get any and all leftovers gone past the point of eating by us, plate scraps, bits of peel and such. Any stale bread I don't use goes to the goats, who think dried-out whole-wheat bread is just the stuff! (I also give them eggshells when I use eggs, and haven't had any problem with them eating each other's eggs.) Saving plastic gallon milk containers (I wish I had a source for local milk, but I don't.) for water containers (watering plants, hauling water to little chickens who are still in their brooder box, mixing plant food, etc.) Trying to remember to go through the refrigerator more often and eat up little bits of leftovers, or give them to the chickens before they go bad. Mended John's shirts and a pair of jeans. (God, I hate mending! I'd rather make something from scratch. So now I feel all virtuous . . . )

5. preparation and storage: Nothing this week; it's the week before the SS check comes, so we are on short commons so far as buying things goes. I have a list, however . . . And I did gather all the band-aids, gauze, bandages, adhesive tape, etc. into one place and am looking for something handy to store them in. Preferably something I already have. Also found three rolls of masking tape and a roll of duct tape, and put them where I can find them. Sorted fabric stash, separating short pieces from actual clothing yardage. (Probably not important in the grand scheme of things, but I sew a lot. It's a barterable skill, I'm hoping.) Also, working on cutting box of odd scraps not large enough to do much with into small squares with which to make a quilt top, possibly this winter.

6. build community food systems: Not this week, I'm afraid. Though I did barter some jam and bread for a gallon of goats milk.

7. eat the food: Strawberry-rhubarb crisp. Potato salad, slaw. Made homemade hot dog buns, with mixed results. (Tasted good, but looked . . well, odd. More experimentation is in order.) Whole wheat, sourdough, and dill and onion bread. Red beans and rice. Sausage and biscuits. Much salad . . . sigh. (But be of good cheer—the spinach is nearly ready!) Tried radish greens in salad and was unimpressed—they're edible, but bristly.

Notes: Little chickens are ready to come out of the brooder boxes and be put into the next stage of confinement: a long net-and-pvc rectangle with a shelter on one end. That gets them used to being outside until they're big enough to go in a closed-off end of the chickenyard, where they can grow until they're too big to fit through the goat lot wire and they can get used to the big chickens and the turkeys (and they can get used to the little ones). Eggs are picking up a bit, but not much; we have turkeys setting, and the hens are much reduced—raccoon and hawk problems over the winter caused us to lose nearly all the new ones from last year and several older hens. But we're getting a dozen a day or so, plus the occasional turkey or guinea egg.

For Sharon's Independence Days Challenge.

1. plant something: Not so much, again, as it's still raining off and on. But John replated corn and beans, neither of which came up particularly well, and planted more summer squash, winter squash, beets, cucumbers, dill. Set out tomato plants. John has finally gotten all the potatoes hilled, in between showers. I potted some peppers and put in various flower and herb starts, some in pots and some in the southside flower bed. Also found another tiny feverfew plant, which I will transplant as soon as it stops raining for a while . . .  John planted wildflower mix seeds along the end of the garden and behind the house; we're hoping this will give us butterfly and bee plants.

2. harvest something: radishes, lettuce, rhubarb. (The sun needs to shine—I want peas!) Mint. Eggs (both chicken and turkey). Broccoli!

3. preserve something: Started a jar of oil infused with broadleaf plantain, for later ointment making. Dried violet leaves, for same. Dried oregano and mint. Froze another gallon of strawberries, in 2-serving batches.

4. reduce waste: The usual: line-drying clothes, attempting to minimize packing waste, weeding for chickens and goats. Chickens also get any and all leftovers gone past the point of eating by us, plate scraps, bits of peel and such. Any stale bread I don't use goes to the goats, who think dried-out whole-wheat bread is just the stuff! (I also give them eggshells when I use eggs, and haven't had any problem with them eating each other's eggs.) Saving plastic gallon milk containers (I wish I had a source for local milk, but I don't.) for water containers (watering plants, hauling water to little chickens who are still in their brooder box, mixing plant food, etc.) Trying to remember to go through the refrigerator more often and eat up little bits of leftovers, or give them to the chickens before they go bad. Mended John's shirts and a pair of jeans. (God, I hate mending! I'd rather make something from scratch. So now I feel all virtuous . . . )

5. preparation and storage: Nothing this week; it's the week before the SS check comes, so we are on short commons so far as buying things goes. I have a list, however . . . And I did gather all the band-aids, gauze, bandages, adhesive tape, etc. into one place and am looking for something handy to store them in. Preferably something I already have. Also found three rolls of masking tape and a roll of duct tape, and put them where I can find them. Sorted fabric stash, separating short pieces from actual clothing yardage. (Probably not important in the grand scheme of things, but I sew a lot. It's a barterable skill, I'm hoping.) Also, working on cutting box of odd scraps not large enough to do much with into small squares with which to make a quilt top, possibly this winter.

6. build community food systems: Not this week, I'm afraid. Though I did barter some jam and bread for a gallon of goats milk.

7. eat the food: Strawberry-rhubarb crisp. Potato salad, slaw. Made homemade hot dog buns, with mixed results. (Tasted good, but looked . . well, odd. More experimentation is in order.) Whole wheat, sourdough, and dill and onion bread. Red beans and rice. Sausage and biscuits. Much salad . . . sigh. (But be of good cheer—the spinach is nearly ready!) Tried radish greens in salad and was unimpressed—they're edible, but bristly.

Notes: Little chickens are ready to come out of the brooder boxes and be put into the next stage of confinement: a long net-and-pvc rectangle with a shelter on one end. That gets them used to being outside until they're big enough to go in a closed-off end of the chickenyard, where they can grow until they're too big to fit through the goat lot wire and they can get used to the big chickens and the turkeys (and they can get used to the little ones). Eggs are picking up a bit, but not much; we have turkeys setting, and the hens are much reduced—raccoon and hawk problems over the winter caused us to lose nearly all the new ones from last year and several older hens. But we're getting a dozen a day or so, plus the occasional turkey or guinea egg.

Dulce et Decorum est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All were lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling frm the froth-corrupted lungs
Obscene as cancer; bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

"Sweet and fitting it is, to die for one's country." —Written by Lieutenant Wilfrid Owen, who was killed one week before the end of World War I. His parents received the telegram announcing his death to the sound of church bells ringing the armistice.

The Caterpillar

He crawleth here. He crepyth there
   On lyttel cat-like feet.
He weareth coats of gorgeous fur
   And lyveth but to eat.

He gnaweth lettuce into shreddes
  And, burrowing with his nose,
He tattereth half the garden beddes
   And fretteth e'en the rose.

And ytet his metaphisics lend
   The creature some renowne.
In him, a super-natural end
   Is Nature's natural crowne.

For, out of his own mouth at last
   He spinneth his cocoon
Wherein he swingeth, slumber-fast,
   Beneath the summer moon;

To dream, in silken hammock curled
   Of strange translunar things;
And wake, into a finer world,
   And Emperor, with wings.
                                                      —Alfred Noyes, who also wrote The Highwayman

Aren't they beautiful? Parsley worms, we always called them, but they are really the caterpillars of the black swallowtail butterfly. I counted eight of them yesterday on my parsley plants. This particular parsley is probably doomed, but I have to go to Lowe's anyway, so I'll just buy a couple more plants and stick them in a pot somewhere else—I haven't seen any of these in several years and I'm not about to do anything to them. (If I remember correctly, they like fennel, too, and dill, Queen Anne's lace, and carrots . . . however, the dill and carrots and Queen Anne's lace aren't up yet. Maybe I should go poke around in the fennel. As soon as it stops raining—I've been out once already, filling birdfeeders and putting up suet and a thistle seed sock, and I'm still rather damp.)

And just in case you didn't know—if you stroke one's head very, very gently, it will shoot out ferocious-looking fake orange horns. If I were a predator, I'd certainly be terrified . . . No pictures, though; I'm not quick enough.

Supervisory Sam

 . . . because, as everyone knows, you can't plant things properly without a supervisor. (The aftermath of my visit to Herb Days at the WNC Farmers' Market—part of it, anyway. There would have been more, but I ran out of money and basket space about the same time. Next year I'm taking the wheelbarrow . . . Unfortunately for Sam, there was no catnip in that lot.)

In Progress

Here's my current work-in-progress. She's from Claire Pruitt's Penny Doll pattern, originally made for an FOCD challenge. However, I missed the deadline by many days, so I can post her progress. I'm working slowly, as I am miles out of my comfort zone!

Independence Days #3

For Sharon's Independence Days Challenge.

1. plant something: Not much; it rained most of the week. John will probably have to replant the corn and beans; we've had too much rain and not enough sun. Some have come up, but not many. Our second try at celery and celery root is just now coming up in trays (the first try succumbed to a cat sleeping on them . . . she was removed and severely chastised, but it was too late) Still no sign of the hops vine. Sweet potatoes spent too long in the mailbox, apparently; we will have to look for more and try again. Potatoes are hilled. We have tomato and pepper plants ready to put out as soon as the garden dries out a little. I put in some herb plants: skullcap, arnica, wood betony, soapwort, angelica (though apparently someone sat on it. We'll see if it recovers), fleabane, boneset, black hollyhocks. Found two volunteer anise hyssop plants, and cleared a space around them. Potted up some hot pepper plants to grow on the deck. Planted some summer squash. Found many, many volunteer teasel and fennel plants.

2. harvest something: radishes, oregano, lettuce (lettuce and more lettuce), rhubarb. Hen and turkey eggs, but not many—everyone has decided that they must set or die. Peas are nearly ready, but not quite.

3. preserve something: Set up a jar of olive oil infusing with oregano, since I have it coming out my ears, practically. (I'm going to try it making pizza.) Attempted making ginger syrup, but was distracted at a crucial moment and now have a large pancake of very hard ginger candy. (I shall put it in a paper and break it up with a hammer, then store it for anyone suffering from an iffy stomach, and try again another day.) Froze a gallon and a half of strawberries. (Not ours, but from the produce stand. Bought two gallons, but we—or mostly I, to be honest—ate the rest. Anyway, I had used all my saved cottage cheese containers.) Dried more oregano.

4. reduce waste: Weeds to the chickens, as usual.  (Apparently this will be one of those years when I can't possibly keep up, so I'll just do the best I can and try not to look around a lot.) It was cool enough for a fire last night—and tonight, too—so we are burning the cardboard and paper I would have had to deal with this week. Rounded up mending supplies to deal with John's pants and shirts. (I hate mending, but . . . ) Saved scraps from this week's hat-making (see below) to cut quilt blocks. . . one day (actually, as soon as I have enough to warrant standing there cutting them out). Using the clothesline exclusively, except one time when I threw my good black t-shirt and polarfleece vest in on ai dry to remove cat hair.

5. preparation and storage: Working on organizing the medical/first aid stuff; bathroom done, the things we usually use are on shelves, but I still have a cabinet to go through. Added sterile alcohol swabs, more test strips for our blood sugar meters. Found two boxes of homemade soap in the linen closet (John's previous wife was a soapmaker.), so there's that. Organized the cookbook bookcase (i.e., removed all the ones we never use so we can find the ones we actually do), and found all the food preservation boooks. Gathered all my herbals in one place. Bought some canned fruit for storage, and a half-gallon jar of black beans. 

6. build community food systems: John worked on stocking a friend's lake some more. We have loads of  little teasel and fennel plants; now to find someone who can use them.

7. eat the food: Eating lettuce and radishes from the garden. Still working on freezer storage. Homemade bread and cookies. Red beans and rice: from storage, with the last ham hock (local, from Alexander County by way of the produce stand). Pineapple upside down cake (used the last of the maraschino cherries. I believe I must store some more, despite the red dye). Scrambled guinea eggs and local sausage.

Also, I have found an outlet for some of my sewn things (hats, in this case): the farmer's market that buys our eggs and jam took three hats and an apron, and sold two hats last week.

EDIT: For those who asked, the groundhog is no longer a problem. (Not for us, anyway.) His lust for broccoli undid him, and John took  him by the Parkway and released him 'on the guv'mint.' We have seen neither him nor any of his kin since then. My cabbage is safe!

For Sharon's Independence Days Challenge.

1. plant something: Not much; it rained most of the week. John will probably have to replant the corn and beans; we've had too much rain and not enough sun. Some have come up, but not many. Our second try at celery and celery root is just now coming up in trays (the first try succumbed to a cat sleeping on them . . . she was removed and severely chastised, but it was too late) Still no sign of the hops vine. Sweet potatoes spent too long in the mailbox, apparently; we will have to look for more and try again. Potatoes are hilled. We have tomato and pepper plants ready to put out as soon as the garden dries out a little. I put in some herb plants: skullcap, arnica, wood betony, soapwort, angelica (though apparently someone sat on it. We'll see if it recovers), fleabane, boneset, black hollyhocks. Found two volunteer anise hyssop plants, and cleared a space around them. Potted up some hot pepper plants to grow on the deck. Planted some summer squash. Found many, many volunteer teasel and fennel plants.

2. harvest something: radishes, oregano, lettuce (lettuce and more lettuce), rhubarb. Hen and turkey eggs, but not many—everyone has decided that they must set or die. Peas are nearly ready, but not quite.

3. preserve something: Set up a jar of olive oil infusing with oregano, since I have it coming out my ears, practically. (I'm going to try it making pizza.) Attempted making ginger syrup, but was distracted at a crucial moment and now have a large pancake of very hard ginger candy. (I shall put it in a paper and break it up with a hammer, then store it for anyone suffering from an iffy stomach, and try again another day.) Froze a gallon and a half of strawberries. (Not ours, but from the produce stand. Bought two gallons, but we—or mostly I, to be honest—ate the rest. Anyway, I had used all my saved cottage cheese containers.) Dried more oregano.

4. reduce waste: Weeds to the chickens, as usual.  (Apparently this will be one of those years when I can't possibly keep up, so I'll just do the best I can and try not to look around a lot.) It was cool enough for a fire last night—and tonight, too—so we are burning the cardboard and paper I would have had to deal with this week. Rounded up mending supplies to deal with John's pants and shirts. (I hate mending, but . . . ) Saved scraps from this week's hat-making (see below) to cut quilt blocks. . . one day (actually, as soon as I have enough to warrant standing there cutting them out). Using the clothesline exclusively, except one time when I threw my good black t-shirt and polarfleece vest in on ai dry to remove cat hair.

5. preparation and storage: Working on organizing the medical/first aid stuff; bathroom done, the things we usually use are on shelves, but I still have a cabinet to go through. Added sterile alcohol swabs, more test strips for our blood sugar meters. Found two boxes of homemade soap in the linen closet (John's previous wife was a soapmaker.), so there's that. Organized the cookbook bookcase (i.e., removed all the ones we never use so we can find the ones we actually do), and found all the food preservation boooks. Gathered all my herbals in one place. Bought some canned fruit for storage, and a half-gallon jar of black beans. 

6. build community food systems: John worked on stocking a friend's lake some more. We have loads of  little teasel and fennel plants; now to find someone who can use them.

7. eat the food: Eating lettuce and radishes from the garden. Still working on freezer storage. Homemade bread and cookies. Red beans and rice: from storage, with the last ham hock (local, from Alexander County by way of the produce stand). Pineapple upside down cake (used the last of the maraschino cherries. I believe I must store some more, despite the red dye). Scrambled guinea eggs and local sausage.

Also, I have found an outlet for some of my sewn things (hats, in this case): the farmer's market that buys our eggs and jam took three hats and an apron, and sold two hats last week.

EDIT: For those who asked, the groundhog is no longer a problem. (Not for us, anyway.) His lust for broccoli undid him, and John took  him by the Parkway and released him 'on the guv'mint.' We have seen neither him nor any of his kin since then. My cabbage is safe!

Do You Think I Need To Lose Some Weight?

Maggie, who is chubby, but not that fat . . . it's the old cat tree, which has moved out onto the porch, and the supports under the top have given way. (It doesn't help that she jumps and lands hard.) I suppose we must fix it, but it's so entertaining this way!

Teasel After Rain

I finally emptied the rain gauge yesterday, since we're supposed to have a day of sunshine—3 inches in the past 10 days or so.