A Sweet Breath

Often when life threatens to become overwhelming, I forget (or neglect) those actions which strengthen me.  I rush along, not tending myself--and then, naturally, I find my reserves empty. 

I walked today. Just walked.  I did not create a plan to save the world, bolster a patient's treatment regimen, or fix--anything.

Instead I drifted behind the house, pleased to find that three of our guerrilla squash have survived (guerrilla because they are planted by the creek). Three raspberries are duking it out  with the weeds and wild grape as well.  I hope to have a nice patch there--and if some berries find their way into the mouths of the neighborhood children, so much the better.

I stopped by this tree (I suppose I could look up the variety). The blooms trailed down near me and I must have stood there smelling the delicate sweet fragrance for five whole minutes...and was transported.  Normally I have an unusually sharp childhood recall, but that scent was familiar and strange at the same time. It washed me with age--a perfume?  I thought of visiting my grandparents in Missouri as a child and this seemed like a one step along the path of the history of this scent--but not the whole history. Swirling Art Deco images float along this path as well. It is...pleasingly elusive.

I continued my walk, noting the burgeoning mulberry crop, and circled back around to take the photo and to have another few minutes of that elixir. If only all efforts gave such a reward.

My lovely house, so tall and proud.  Pity she came to us with weedy and slumping planting beds.  The water coming down the dirt had carved a six inch deep rivulet--beginnings of a truly impressive little grand canyon if let go.  I did not weed that particular bed, believing the grasses there to be the only thing between ourselves and a mudslide. The skies were overly generous in the early summer, and the sump pumps in the neighborhood were all working full time--including ours. 

"We need to keep the water away from the house," my husband diagnosed.

Um, yeah.

We got some bids and had the downspouts buried.  They now pop up in the middle of the yard and let the water out when it rains.  No more Grand Canyon.  Good. 

The next issue was that bed.  All that it had in it was a spindly crabapple with spotted leaves. Oh, but I had a vision--quite lofty at first invloving facing the entire lower story in stone before my sweet and practical husband vetoed it.  Sigh. I'd have given up on it myself eventually...

We did want a raised bed, though.  We got some bids and the folks at Moore's Landscaping came with a bobcat and many, many wheelbarrows full of soil and stone.  They deftly built us a two-tiered stone wall.  It looks like it has been there forever--perfect!

  

Earth Day

Husband (wearing sweatpants and a fleece jacket, reading in bed late this morning):  What did you have in mind to do with the children today?

What did I have in mind...hmmm....well, not letting them continue their screen orgy, for one...

So, armed with some grocery sacks, a bucket and garden gloves, we bullied the kids out of the house.  The eldest disappeared quickly, but before we could get to clearing the woods behind the house of trash, Miles and Sophia needed to reaquaint themselves with one of the Eastern Red Cedars. Bruce and I busied ourselves fetching scraps of plastic and styrofoam cups as they climbed.

They became much more interested when we drifted in the direction of the creek.  They scrambled down the tree and crept along the bank and pounced upon the litter there. At one point, Sophia needed a bit of a boost to her backside (more due to panic than any actual danger), but other than that, we got a depressingly hefty load just from the closest spots.  Bruce and kinder circled back to the house, but I kept on, pushing my way through the dried weeds and tree branches for each sliver of detritus as if it were some treasure.

Odd, though.  I moved through thorny locusts branches and wild gooseberry with nary a scratch.  Normally, I am not a cautious outdoorswoman.  I do not fear mud.  And generally I would return from such an outing proudly bearing my war wounds.  Today I threaded my way at my leisure. I took the time to step around the new plants--even the common wild tobacco and cow parsnip. How much healthier would I be if I did this every day?  How much better would the world be? I know myself well enough to tell you that this experiment is unlikely to come to a conclusion. 

And yet, without prayer or spiritual thought, planning, worry or intent, I brought more from the woods today than trash. I brought calm.  Or a message to slow down a bit and see the dried leaves crusted against a stone. Nature, in its many forms, is not always what I consider beautiful.  But it is interesting.  I am somehow compelled to witness it, to be with it, and perhaps, to love all of it.

Kate 

Evil Easter Bunny

...okay, so maybe not THE Easter bunny, just bunnies in general.  (more on that later)

We did get some retaining walls built last fall.  And, though it looks rather pathetic at the moment, I planted a Weeping Norweigan Spruce.  It does have a bit of that Charlie Brown pathos to it. You stake them until they are the height you want, then let them trail down. I had pictured the generous form as if will be...much later.

We also put in blueberries.  Now, Nebraska is not known for having a good pH for blueberries--too alkaline.  We had the soil mixed with peat moss, and I shall have to keep a good eye on the acidity, but it will be worth it, IF the bushes survive.

Was it the harsh winter that causes my concern for the tender shrubs?  A late frost?  Drought?  No, Dear Reader--it's the rabbits.  The beasts have gnawed the blueberries to the ground (plus they stole all of my crocus bulbs!).  I shall have to fence them in the winter, I guess.

The lovely oakleaf hydrangeas I put in?  Nibbled to the nubbins.

I have informed the husband of hunting persuasion that he may, in fact, quietly rid us of these sinister hares.  Sadly, thusfar Hasenpfeffer has not appeared on our menu.  Hrumph!

The Scouts

This year marks the hundredth year of boy scouting.  This may mean nothing to you.  Here, there is great excitement, as two of the old badges have been brought back for this year only.  Well, Bruce is excited...Alan nominally so.  Pioneering, anyone?

I didn't know when we signed Alan up for Cub Scouts six years ago that the Boy Scouts of America would creep so deeply into our lives.  We now have two scouts of the male variety selling popcorn with the desperate yearning of boys trying to reach the prize level which receives a marshmallow-shooting cross bow.  Come to think of it, that does sound pretty neat.  In past years, we have had the garage full of boxes upon boxes of popcorn waiting for pick-up by the harassed parents of fellow pack mates.  The sale of popcorn funds many scouting events, such as camping and museum visits, as well as supporting a program which sends popcorn to the troops overseas.  Ok, popcorn in the garage is not so bad when you put it that way.

What I love is to see my husband in his scout uniform. He has a great time.  He spent some years as the leader of the pack [That's right, MASTER of the Cubs], and was rewarded with a battery operated self-turning marshmallow roasting fork. He added another patch to his shirt the other night, very pleased with his handiwork.  This is quintessentially my guy: poking around, telling kid jokes, fostering, learning.  He gets every bit as much as the boys do out of the experience.

As for me, Sophia's first Daisy scout meeting is yet to be held...but beware when cookie season rolls around!

If you see a scout, please consider buying some popcorn!

Kate

Sausage and Apple Hand Pies

Well, handy!

Sausage and Apple Hand Pies

Brown one package sweet Italian sausage (casings removed) with one chopped red onion. Add three cups chopped apples.  Cook through.  I added a bit of salt, some savory, and a pinch of fennel seed.  Once this is cooked through, put about an eighth cup flour on, stir it in, then 1/2 cup of cider. Cook until mixture thickens.  Turn off heat, mix in 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese.  Let mixture cool.

I used three boxes of prepared pie crusts (6 crusts).  I have a circular cutter, but one could simply quarter them.  Put as much filling on as you can (this varies with the size of your crust), 1/4 cup or more.  Then dab a bit of water around the edges and either lay a second circle (rolled a bit larger) on top or bring the edges together and pinch shut.  Poke a few holes, brush with egg.  You can freeze them at this point or bake for 25-30 min. at 400. 

This is one of my favorite autumn dishes, despite the effort.  I usually make it at least once.  This year's batch, now resting comfortably in the freezer, is for Sophia's birthday picnic.   I'm always hoping that some will remain to send for the children's lunches (or hoard for my own), but this rarely happens. At least I'll get to enjoy them once!  I did run out of filling, so I used up the extra dough by spooning a bit of apple butter on, then layering some ham, sweet potato, and port wine cheese in.  That's for tonight.  yum!

Happy ...whatever!

Kate

Planning...but not for cows

Food.  Luscious blueberries, crisp apples, figs, strawberries, currants, filberts, mushrooms...I've made my wish list for the garden.  We'll have to pay yearly attention to the acid/alkaline levels, but I'm willing to do that in exchange for my own grocery store.  I spent quite a bit at Raintree Nursery the other day...most of the order will arrive next spring. Some will be here late in the month. 

Over the years, I've been getting more and more picky about what I want to feed my family.  Real food.  This morning, I drove up to Bennington to Russ and Lori Bryant's dairy.  It's a trip I make about once a week for raw milk. The first time we had it, my kids didn't like the taste. (Yes, there is a difference) But the next time, I took them to the farm and they met the cows and helped Russ hunt for a dozen eggs.  They petted the myriad farm cats.  Now they whine if I get a bit lazy and buy store milk.  They want milk from their cows, you see. 

I suffered from growing pains horribly as a child, and so does my little Sophia...unless she consumes raw milk every day.  The calcium is far more absorbable.  Raw milk also increases your body's ability to detoxify.  It is a definite motivator.  Cows are not on my wish list, however.  I am happy to support local small farmers when I can...and I don't think the local covenant allows ruminants. Not even the fully functional yet bizarrely tiny toy cows.  Cute little fellas, aren't they?

Comment if you love cows.

Kate