Take Joy!

In Progress

Pieces of the latest crochet project—don't hate me because I have such a high-tech blocking system! It's going to be a hat. . . . if it ever dries. The yarn is sport-weight KnitPicks Telemark wool.

The Lazy Days of Summer

LeeLee in the Catnip.

Independence Days #13

For Sharon's Independence Days Challenge.

1. plant something: Nothing this week. However, the chard and toy choi I planted last week have come up already. The shiso is a no-show so far. Oh, wait—I planted some salad burnet in a pot, to [hopefully] replace mine that disappeared in last year's drought.

2. harvest something:  Tomatoes.  Yellow squash. Eggs, just barely—the chickens are on strike. Parsley. Blackberries. Peppers. Grape tomatoes. The last of the cucumbers; last week's 2 inches of rain finished them off. Ditto the zucchini.

3. preserve something: Am in the process of oven-roasting tomatoes even as I type. Also drying cutting celery to season soup this winter. Drying dill and coriander seeds on the plants; they'll be ready in a day or so.

4. reduce waste: The usual: recycling (plastic, cat food cans, milk jugs). WEEDING/feeding to goats and chickens. Continuing to use clothesline instead of dryer. Saving cardboard/waste paper for firestarting this winter. Passed on my stash of plastic grocery-store bags (no matter how hard we try, we always end up with some) to David at the produce stand. John has rigged up a hose from the pump faucet around the house to my flower/herb beds and pots of tomatoes and peppers on the other side of the house, so I am no longer using 10-15 gallons of city water every day, which will save us a bit on the water bill, I hope.

5. preparation and storage: Bought a bag of scratch grain to mix with a bag of birdseed for bird feeding this winter; both are mixed and now residing in a metal trash can by the porch. Mixed up a spray bottle of white vinegar and water for bathroom cleaning. (I used the old bathroom cleaner bottle, and left the label on, thus bypassing my usual failure to label things properly.) Replenished flour buckets; bought baking supplies for this month, including extra chocolate chips . . . And I have actually finished one Christmas gift, and stashed it away, along with several hats that will probably meet the same fate.

6. build community food systems: Shared eggs with my mother and brother. Patronized local tailgate markets.

7. eat the food: More local corn—silver queen, this time—and beans. Tomatoes and cucumbers and squash.  Local cantaloupes. Blackberry clafoutis, and I think we can get enough for a pie this afternoon. South Carolina peaches. Beets from the tailgate (ours did nothing this year). Shrimp, also from the tailgate—not precisely local, but from the NC coast by way of a local vendor. Boiled turkey eggs—some to eat as is, and some for egg salad.

Notes: Once again, not much going on—this is the time of year I have a really hard time doing much. Humid and hot (though not so hot as last year, so I ought to be grateful. I'm trying. Really . . . ), and my bad knee is giving me fits. I have, however, lost something over ten pounds, which means I feel good enough to walk again (early in the morning), so perhaps the weight loss will continue. I certainly hope so, for several reasons: My jeans are just too-big-enough so that they bag and rub in uncomfortable places after I've only worn them once, but they aren't too-big-enough to buy new ones. Yet. If I lose down a size (or perhaps two), I can buy clothes at Goodwill again. The more weight I lose, the more normal my blood sugar gets—it's under control with medicine now, but it would be nice not to require it, or at least not quite so much of it. Onward!

The young jays are not quite as loud as they were last week (i.e., they didn't wake me up in the morning). They're still following Mom and Dad around and trying to look pitiful, but I did see a couple of them eating sunflower seeds on their own, when they thought no one was watching. This morning at the feeders there were a family of house finches—a third the size of a blue jay and twice as loud! The grackles appear to have [mostly] moved on, as the crows are returning from wherever they've nested.

The moon vine is growing, there are a couple of zinnias actually blooming (out of the two dozen I set out, I think six survived the slugs. Maybe next year.), and I've got basil ready to harvest and dry as soon as I finish the cutting celery. I think this year I'll dry some anise hyssop and pineapple sage, too, just to experiment with.

This, when I bought it, was labeled simply "pesto basil." I like them; they remind me of little Christmas trees.

Oh, and Mr. Poozle got into it with someone (I am naming no names, but I suspect the Evil Cat From Next Door.  Or possibly Victoria, though her temper is improving as she ages.) and had an abcess on top of his head. It had already burst and finished oozing when I discovered it, so I am anointing his head with triple-antibiotic ointment whenever I can catch him. He doesn't mind, since he's discovered that if he lets me put glop on his head, he gets a handful of treats. Possibly more, if he looks pitiful enough—and right now he looks like someone took a tomahawk after him . . . I would take a picture, but I suspect he would be embarrassed to be seen with a bald spot.

Serena, Ready for a Nap

This is her favorite outdoor napping spot (it's an old display cabinet left from when we had things for sale at one of the shop; there's no room for it in the house, so it is on the deck holding my stash of potting stuff for next year).

Stargazers

Independence Days #12

For Sharon's Independence Days Challenge.

1. plant something: Shiso (both red and green), in pots, since what I planted in the garden apparently drowned this spring. Chard, in a big pot. Toy Choi, in a couple of containers. Set out some laggard tomato plants, and celery/celeriac. We'll see whether they do anything before frost. Put out a couple more pots of dill that I got cheap at the market.

2. harvest something:  Tomatoes.  Cucumbers. Squash. Garlic. Eggs, just barely—the chickens are on strike. Parsley. The rest of the Nordland potatoes (must plant more next year). Blackberries. Peppers. Grape tomatoes. Dill. Four small cabbages.

3. preserve something: Froze enough bream (from the last fishing trip) for a meal or two. Dried a little more oregano.

4. reduce waste: The usual: recycling (plastic, cat food cans, milk jugs). WEEDING/feeding to goats and chickens. Continuing to use clothesline instead of dryer. Saving cardboard/waste paper for firestarting this winter. Bought a nice wool skirt and a couple of knit tops at Goodwill to use as fabric, instead of buying yardage. (I'm dressing a doll for my mother's church bazaar this fall, and the selection at the affordable fabric store is abysmal. The selection at the pricey one is good, but unaffordable for something like this. So we improvise. And from the one wool skirt I got nearly a yard of usable material, plus lining, plus a button and a zipper that can be reused.)

5. preparation and storage: Nothing really this week; the Social Security check comes in a few days, so we are on short commons until it does—plus I have a tooth cleaning to pay for this week. So my prep-and-storage this week has been limited to making lists of things to get later in the week. Decided that I don't need to can any more tomatoes this year, as we still have three dozen quarts from last year, and some from the year before; need to use those up instead. We need beans, but ours are just sitting there, so I will probably buy a couple of bushels locally to can. Peaches, too—we have frozen peaches still, but I want to can a couple or three dozen quarts this year. I can buy them at the farmer's market; the South Carolina ones are beginning to come in. Don't need to make any jam this year, either, since we still have plenty left from tailgate sales last year. Oh, wait—we did buy 2 gallons of white vinegar, to use for both pickling and cleaning.

6. build community food systems: I have Sharon's book, plus a copy of Food Storage for the Faint of Heart and a book on container gardening for my daughter in Florida; also several bags of storage food to start her off.

7. eat the food: More local corn—peaches and cream, this time—and beans. Tomatoes and cucumbers and squash, oh my . . . I tried a recipe for  rolls using shredded summer squash and zucchini (from Simply in Season), and it turned out well. Local cantaloupes. Local cubed steak. Zucchini bread. Stuff from the freezer . . .We picked a gallon of blackberries yesterday and when I get back from the dentist today I'm going to make clafoutis.

Notes: Oh, not much going on. We spent Friday afternoon fishing and crocheting down at Charley Owen, and only got rained on once, which is a vast improvement from the last time we went—we got so wet we squelched back to the car instead of walking. We have several varieties of garlic ordered to plant this fall, and I'm planning to do some more containers next year. Got out the seeds for winter greens; now to make space to plant them. I think I may get some more big pots and try growing some things against the south side of the house; it's white, so that will help, and it will stay fairly warm on into December. Probably—this year, who knows?

My car is ready to go in the shop this week and have its alternator replaced, so it will run all the time and not just once in a while. We don't drive it much, but it gets better mileage than John's, so it's good to have. (Yes, I know there's no reason for only two people to own two cars and a truck, but . . . when we got married we each had one, and they're both paid for long since, and in reasonably good repair. We're far enough out of the city that what mass transit there is here stops short of us, and neither of us is in shape to bike, even if it were safe on the roads here, which it isn't. So I just try to give John a list when he goes to the post office . . . And the truck is for hauling firewood and feed, and that's about it, since we aren't doing the tailgate any more.)

The zinnias finally have a few buds; the Stargazer lilies we planted two years ago have bloomed—four blossoms!—and the lemon basil has come up, belatedly. I think it will get big enough to dry some leaves before frost. The regular basil plants are huge; I need to begin drying leaves this week. And the dill that I let go to seed is drying up nicely. So is the cilantro; neither of us likes the taste, but I grow it for the coriander seeds. More plants next year . . . Lemon balm,  julep mint, apple mint, ginger mint are all blooming. (It's interesting to note the differences in mint blooms: all the same purplish-blue color, but different styles. Julep mint has spiky, bifurcated blooms at the ends of the stems. Apple mint has the same sort, but larger and with more side spikes. Ginger mint has tiny rings around the stem just above the leaves.) Queen Anne's lace is in bloom, and there is a chicory plant in the side yard! If I let it go to seed, and then perhaps shake the seeds out among the Queen Anne's lace . . . Weeding down in the back, I found several more wild St. John's wort plants. I'm hoping if I leave them alone, there will be more next year. I'm not sure whether I can buy seeds; need to look up my Richter's catalog and see. There are no tiger lilies this year; I think the past two years of drought did them in. (The lilies that I was hoping were tigers turned out to be lovely cream-colored ones, which is nice, but . . . ) I hope I can afford some bulbs this fall. They were my grandfather's favorite flower, and I like to have them if I can.

I've finished a scarf and a couple of hats for Christmas; pictures soon, perhaps, when I get them blocked and looking decent. After the dentist today I'm going to the yarn store downtown (since I'll be halfway there anyway) to look for something red and good-feeling to make John's mother a hat, and possibly a scarf, depending on how expensive whatever I find is . . . she asked me for one a couple of years ago and I never did get it made. This year. And I have some handpainted sock yarn coming from Knit Picks—I don't see why I can't crochet a pair of socks.  I made myself a new apron—black with green ferns—and finished an outfit for the bazaar doll (I need to press everything and take pictures, don't I?) and have nearly finished her crocheted scarf and hat (to go with the wool coat I'm going to make out of the skirt from Goodwill—see above). And I've found a copy of Better Homes & Gardens New Junior Cookbook for Eliza, and have cut out matching aprons for her, her mom and her doll.

And we trimmed William's feet yesterday, and cut off his nasty hanging wool. (We never sheared him this year, because it was so wet so long, and I'm afraid if we shear him now he won't have enough wool to keep warm if it gets cold early. So we just trimmed him, and he looks as if he feels much better. )

Enough. Here's my bucket of chard:

In which we go fishing . . .

(at least, some of us go fishing. The other half of us sits on the bank and crochets, or wanders around and looks at stuff.)

This time, as it happened, I was looking for a bench to sit on when I spotted the heron, standing on a rock in the river.

He stood there for a while, then he preened for a bit, and wandered off down the river . . .

and stood on another rock for a while, and cleaned his wings a little more . . .

and then took off again, this time out of sight down the river.

So I wandered back up to where John was sitting on the bank, pretending to fish . . .


until he actually caught something

a very unhappy turtle! (Which went back into the water immediately)

He actually caught a couple dozen bream, while I lounged on the bank watching tiny fish in the shallows and dragonflies on the reeds, and we only got rained on once—then we took them home and put half of them in the freezer for another day and ate the other half with fried potatoes and cucumbers and tomatoes from the garden, and put the bones out for the raccoon and went happily to bed.

An admirable day, all told. (Which is good, because today I have to go to the dentist and have my teeth cleaned and be told once again that I need to visit the periodontist. And once again I will point out that the periodontist may do wonderful things with one's gums, but he requires actual cash money, which is in short supply these days, so I will simply have to manage with the substandard gums I have. Unless, of course, he would like to paid in goats . . . I suggested that to the dentist once, and he was not amused. He's a nice man, but he has no sense of humor where money is concerned.)

Squirrelvision

Much excitement on the roof the other day! (Yes, that's a TV antenna; no, it doesn't work. But it would be a lot of trouble to get up there and take it down, and we're both pretty lazy . . . )

Perhaps if I ignore him, he will think I've gone away and come down . . .

Maybe if I don't look at her, she'll go away . . . .

Eventually Victoria got bored and went away. We went to the grocery store; when we came back, he was still there—however, it had begun to rain and he was increasing soggy, so he came down too and went away.

Assorted Wildlife

This is, I think, some sort of hawk moth—it doesn't show here, but it has a long thin proboscis, curved at the end for dipping into things like phlox (and this beebalm) with a tiny tubular throat. I keep trying to get a look at its wings for better identification, but I can't catch it being still long enough.

I guess she didn't find anything edible here; when I came back she was gone on to greener pastures.

One of several titmice that frequent the Cafeteria Tree. (Also the only decent picture I've managed to get! I need to become either faster or sneakier . . . )

 

Independence Days #10 & 11

For Sharon's Independence Days Challenge.

Two weeks this time, because I was busy last week doing . . . what? I have no idea, but by the time I had any spare time, it was Thursday.

1. plant something: Nothing, I'm afraid, but I have plans to try shiso again—this time in pots; I think it drowned out in the garden—and some winter greens in pots.

2. harvest something:  Tomatoes.  Cucumbers. Squash. Mint, oregano. Garlic. Eggs (both chicken and turkey). Catnip.  Parsley, cutting celery. Early potatoes (red Nordlands). Onions should be nearly ready to pull—this week, I hope.

3. preserve something: Froze some things, but I've forgotten what, so it can't have been much.

4. reduce waste: The usual: recycling (plastic, cat food cans, milk jugs). WEEDING/feeding to goats and chickens. (Fortunately, both the goats and William LOVE ragweed, which we have in plenty. I am attempting the view all the humongous weeds as free stock feed . . . ) Continuing to use clothesline (or wooden drying racks) instead of dryer. Saving cardboard/waste paper for firestarting this winter.

5. preparation and storage: Replenished flour buckets. Added beans, rice, oatmeal, tinned sardines to storage. Got another three months' worth of medicines for both of us. Sorted through canning jars; I need to buy some lids, but no rings yet. Bought another dozen half-gallon jars for storage.

6. build community food systems: Shared summer squash and zucchini bread. Ordered a third copy of Sharon's book, plus a couple of others, for my daughter and her intended, who are currently broke.

7. eat the food: Bread. Squash fritters (squash from the garden, and onions from the produce stand). Cucumbers, tomatoes, squash. Much brown rice from storage, much to John's dismay. (He's a carnivore; I like meat once in a while, but I can do without easily. It just isn't nearly as interesting as vegetables.) Bought some kamut and whole rye to experiment with, but haven't actually cooked it yet . . . Corn on the cob, too—not ours, but local, from the produce stand. We are both diabetic, and shouldn't be eating corn much—but I will gladly do without just about anything else for fresh corn on the cob! 

Notes: What can I possibly have been doing for two weeks, that this is all I have to report? Oh, well.

I decided against picking St. John's wort flowers to infuse; instead, since there aren't many plants, I'm going to let them go to seed in hopes of having more next year.

Yesterday we harvested the garlic and weeded the beds; winter greens there, I think. We plan to turn the chickens into the garden for the winter. (Partly for the fertilizer, and partly because we lost a great many hens over the winter; more than hawks and raccoons could account for. I suspect two-legged predators, so I want them up where I can keep an eye on them this winter. They've stayed in the goat lot for the past two years with no problems, until this winter, so something is awry.) We moved the little chickens into a fenced-off part of the old chicken lot, where they can grow and get used to the big hens (and vice versa) for several weeks.

Daughter is applying for Medicaid/food stamps/etc., as she is in school (training to be a CNA, with nursing school afterward, or so is the plan) and broke. Her significant other is working, but not bringing in enough, so we are busy gathering up what we can spare/buy that will keep so we can give it to them in a couple of weeks when they visit. I've ordered Sharon's book for her, plus another on food storage for beginners, and one on container growing—I have no idea whether any of it will take, but I'm trying.

Other than that, not much is going on—weeding, mostly. And spraying yellow jackets' nests—two so far. At least they're in the eaves, not in the ground like the ones I discovered a couple of years ago when I was weeding . . .  (Ordinarily, we don't spray anything, but I make an exception for yellow jackets. Wasps don't bother either of us, and of course there are honeybees and bumblers everywhere, but yellow jackets? They have nasty dispositions and are prone to follow and keep stinging en masse if you disturb them. I have my limits.) And birdwatching: my morning routine now goes something like this—feed cats, shower, throw dirty cat dishes in sink, make chai, fill feeders, repair to the porch with chai and the current crocheting project, or hand sewing, or something, and spend the next couple of hours watching birds (including a small flock of grackles, alas—maybe they'll move on soon), petting cats, and throwing peanuts into the yard for the jays to carry off.  There are young jays in addition to the adults, and a pair each of red-bellied woodpeckers and downies, two (or perhaps three) pairs of goldfinches, a good-sized family group of cardinals, a couple of nuthatches, and a mixed group of titmice, chickadees, house finches and sparrows, plus the bluebirds out in the garden. The mockingbird is there, too, but not where I can see him most of the time—and there's a pair of pileated woodpeckers we can hear away up in the big trees. They had young this year (in fact, back in May I was out hanging laundry and the pair of them flew over, not six feet above my head, swooping and turning around each other, and finally lighting 80 feet up in the dead locust. It was magical; I just stood there with my mouth hanging open.), which have fledged—last week I saw one of the adults followed by one of the young ones—the adult would fly to a tree, then call the young bird, who would follow and be rewarded by something to eat. (At least that's what it looked like they were way up in the trees, and I didn't have my glasses on.)

And there are squirrels, of course—two or three that live here and eat at the feeders, and Stubby, who, to judge by the state of his tail, ran afoul of something earlier in life . . . he lives up the road, I think, by the neighbors' house, and comes by in the mornings and afternoons to see what we have to eat. He has a snack, bosses the others around, yells at the cats from a nice high branch, and goes on about his business up the road . . .

The sunflowers out in the garden are blooming, and the goldfinches are having a good time eating the seeds while they're still in the milk stage. (They'll be nesting soon; the thistles are almost ready to bloom.) The corn is tasseling; there are green tomatoes on the vines in the garden; and blooms on the beans, but not many (not enough sun, I think; good thing we canned lots last year. Or maybe I'll buy a bushel or two from someone at the farmer's market). Peaches are coming in, so I've been having a peach with my morning chai. Another week or two, and we'll foray out to the big WNC market and buy a couple of bushels to can. I have plenty of frozen ones; I need to use them up, in fact. Peach preserves!

I've done some sewing—a new apron for myself, and a couple to sell at the market, some doll clothes for Eliza, and some for the doll I'm dressing for mom's church bazaar this fall—and crocheted a couple of hats and a scarf, and read a few books . . .