Farm Life's Hardest Lesson

If you read any "What I Wish I Would Have Known" articles written by modern homesteader types, one of the first items on their list is always going to be this:

You don't have to do it all at once.

Take it slow, they say. Give yourself grace, they say. Just a little bit at a time and don't overwhelm yourself.

I've read dozens of those articles. And I've always nodded in agreement, as though I've always known perfectly well that that one little bit of advice is absolutely correct.

Except that I didn't.

My best friend and I used to joke that whichever one of us ended up moving to a farm first was going to end up sitting in the middle of her pasture, crying the ugly cry, absolutely overwhelmed by what she had taken on and that the other friend was going to have to listen and comfort and try not to say "I told you so."

Turns out, I was the first one to move to a farm. And that prediction wasn't as far off as I'd like for you think it is. Except that it's snowy outside, so I was sobbing in my bedroom, while staring at my pasture. Which really isn't any better.

I haven't blogged regularly in almost a year. There's a reason for it though.

The past year has been seriously rough. My husband has been working out of town - sometimes out of state - for the past year. He's gone two weeks and then home for a week. That means that two thirds of the time, every responsibility of this property falls on my shoulders. In the past year I have raised a rather large garden, milked two goats and kept another 50 or so animals alive, homeschooled a first and fifth grader, kept a 4600 square foot house clean, raised 700 bales of hay on a 25 acre pasture using nothing but a shovel and some tarps. I've raised and butchered enough chickens to last a year, canned a year's worth of fruits and vegetables and dried or frozen what wasn't canned, cooked dinner every night,  run my kids around to their extra curricular activities, driven an hour each direction every time I needed groceries, hauled horses to 9 gymkhanas and rodeos, and hauled chickens to the county fair. And almost all of this with very little help from The Man of My Dreams, except for the weeks he was able to spend at home.

What I learned is that I really can do it all. I'm working from 5:30 in the morning until 9:30 at night, every single hour of the day, but I can get it all done. Until something goes wrong. As soon as the slightest little thing happens to upset my very rigid schedule, I lose it. I get so overwhelmed that I can't function and all I want to do is give up. Or cry.

The bad part of that, though, is that in this life, something happens to change your plans Every. Single. Day. Nothing ever goes the way you expect it to, or plan for it to. An animal gets sick. A kid misbehaves. A neighbor needs help. A fence needs fixed or a goat gets out or a deer dies in your front yard or your dog gets skunked or the well runs dry (again) and you have to spend an hour hauling water. The list of Things That Can Go Wrong is infinite. And each one of those things is guaranteed to happen when you least expect it. That is reality.

And with a schedule as packed as mine has been this year, and a brain so overwhelmed by constant mental to-do lists, there just isn't time to stop and enjoy all those little things that are supposed to bring me joy. I don't have time to watch my kids play with animals or build a fort or raise a puppy. I don't have time to relax with my husband and just sit and watch the sun go down. I've spent every waking moment just keeping up, keeping my head above water, that I've lost touch with every reason we moved up here in the first place. And that makes my heart hurt.

It's a lesson no one can just tell you and expect you to understand: You don't have to do it all at once.

You have to learn it, first hand. And it's painful. And it involves a lot of frustration and even more tears. But eventually, you take a step back, and you realize what you're doing to yourself, and you decide things have to change. Priorities have to be considered. You have to give yourself room to bend, and time to relax. You have to remember that there are so many years ahead of you to figure this all out and get it all done. And there will never be one single year when you actually accomplish everything you feel like you should. Living this life isn't something to mark off the to-do list. It's a process - a life long process - and it will never actually be finished.

And so, at a time when so many of my friends are moving out to the country and starting their homesteading lives, here is my advice:

You don't have to do it all at once.

Take it slow.

 Give yourself grace.

Just a little bit at a time.

Don't overwhelm yourself.

And when you are sobbing in the middle of your pasture, don't hesitate to give me a call. 

The Giant Cabbage

I've never grown cabbage before. Mostly because it takes up more space than what I had readily available in my garden in The Big City, and also because... well, honestly, I don't really like cabbage all that much. Nor does anyone in my family get particularly excited about it.

But now that we live in The Tiny Little Town, with more garden space than I know what to do with, cabbage made it onto the "To Try" list this year. Really, I just wanted to see it grow.

And it's fun to watch - what start out as a couple of tiny little leaves, in a few months are enormous leaves that spread wide and far, with a little head growing in the center. And that little head, before you know it, turns into a Very Large Head.
 
I should've picked it a long time ago, yes. But I didn't know what to do with it. We've made coleslaw, I'm making Chinese chicken salad for dinner tonight... and that's with the little 2 /12 pound cabbage I picked last week.

This one weighs in at over 6 pounds.


Umm... oops?

Really, it's a shame we don't like sauerkraut. 

My aunt does that - plants things just to see them grow. Then she gives away whatever she harvests. When you garden as much for the fun and satisfaction of growing things as you do for the food you produce, I think that just happens.

I've still got six more cabbages in the garden (the horse trampled the other four. I wasn't happy about it then, but I don't mind anymore.) I guess I better start finding volunteers to take some of it off my hands, because my family isn't going to be impressed if we eat nothing but cabbage for the next month, and I don't think summer cabbage stores well in a root cellar.

Thrifty Style: "Must Haves"

Have you noticed the new "being thrifty" books on the market lately?

Back when I was a young, first time mom, I learned to be thrifty out of necessity. (Tightwad Gazette, anyone?) Back then, "thrifty" meant clipping coupons for cereal, pairing them with sales, and coming home with eight boxes of Lucky Charms for seventy five cents each. It meant stockpiling Aquafresh when I could get it for pennies, and learning to buy Wal-Mart clothes when they were on the $1 clearance.

Times have changed since then. Financial circumstances aren't so dire, and I've learned a whole lot about how managing health goes a long way toward living frugally. It would appear that most of the "frugal" book writers are in the same place, trading out how-to's on price books for chapters on the basics of gardening, and notes about coupon-clipping for recipes for homemade whole wheat bread. I'm loving that these new books include recipes for homemade cleaners with vinegar and castile soap, instructions for canning tomatoes, and some even have basic patterns for skirts and pants, or beginning knitting instructions. Times are a-changing, I tell you, and it excites me.

But one book I was reading today offered a chapter on "the frugal style" and it about made me snort the coffee I was sipping. There was a list of the Style Must-Haves, things every "frugal" woman ought to have in her closet. Amusingly it was on the same page as an article about finding a great deal on a black and white Chanel suit. (Because we all need one of those, don't we?) The list included things like a 'little black dress'; brightly colored flats; a white button-down shirt; black slacks; a trench coat; and a leather handbag.

Now, we have to realize the ladies that wrote this book must live in some city other than The Big City that we live near. If I showed up to do my monthly shopping at Wal Mart wearing a trench coat, bright red flats, and a leather handbag, I'd have folks gawking openly at me as I perused the dairy section. Reality here - whether it be in our Tiny Little Town or even in our Big City, is that no one needs stuff like that.

So I thought a little bit about my "must-haves". Here are some of the things I can't live without:

*A big, full skirt in a color that goes with anything. Bonus points if it's made from scrap fabric patched together, or a recycled tablecloth or curtains.
*A cozy, homemade cardigan, preferably in some fiber that can be tossed in the wash.
*Comfy rope sandals. I wrote a whole blog in ode to my Gurkees once. They're that awesome.
*Tank tops in every shade I can find on clearance.
*Rubber chore boots that can be hosed off after wading through poo and mud. (I've come to realize the rubber chore boots, often times still laden with said poo and mud, are a regular fashion statement at the market here in the Tiny Little Town.)
*Wool socks, tights, and/or leg warmers. Flannel pantaloons aren't uncalled for.
*A giant bag (mine is hand-knit out of 16 shades of scrap yarn - I like to think it matches everything... or maybe that's nothing?) that will hold the normal purse things as well as snacks, books, a small knitting project, miscellaneous rocks and pine cones, a couple bottles of water, and anything else that Two Little Girls might want to stick in there.
*A floppy-brimmed hat for days when brushing my hair didn't make it on the priority list, or when I want the sun kept out of my face.

So what are your necessities? Do you live in a place where wearing a Chanel suit would make you feel right at home, or would it make you the laughing stock of the local discount store? What is one clothing item you absolutely couldn't live without?

Grinding Meat - Revisited

I've had a handful of messages from folks wanting to know more about grinding game meat into burger, so since we just did it this weekend, I thought I'd share the process. I did write a very similar post a couple of years ago on the subject, but I've learned some things since then that I'll add to this post.

As we butcher an elk or deer, all of the small scraps of meat and lower-quality meat cuts go into the "burger bucket." (We use a five gallon bucket lined with a clean plastic trash bag.) Wild game fat isn't the greatest tasting, so we trim most of the big fatty chunks off, but little bits left on aren't really a problem. When we're done processing the animal, we freeze the burger meat big freezer bags until we're ready to grind it. Yes, this means we refreeze our meat once. I'm not gonna recommend you do it too, but I can tell you that after spending a day (or two) cutting up and packaging an animal, the last thing I want to do is stand at the grinder for another few hours. I prefer procrastination. We've never noticed a problem with the taste and/or quality of our burger meat because of it.

So anyway. Thaw your meat if it's frozen, and round up some fat*. Pork and beef fat are equally suitable. Pork fat tends to be less "gummy", making less mess and not clogging the grinder as often. Beef fat is kosher, and we have kosher family that we like to have for dinner on occasion. Either way, you want a pound of fat for every four pounds of burger meat. This makes an 80/20 mixture, which makes great burgers, meat loaves, meatballs, etc. (I've done a 3:1 ration in the past, and it's good too, but the difference is minimal. 4:1 means you buy less fat.) Fat is cheap, about $2 a pound. Find a butcher shop that will sell you fresh fat, already ground. (We ground our own for the first two years, thinking that was the only way. All butcher shops are not equal - find a good one.)

Grind your meat on the coarse setting first. Then, mix four pounds of meat with one pound of fat. We mix by hand, wearing gloves.

When it's well mixed, run it through the grinder with a finer grind plate.

Then package it according to how you'll want to use it - we do one pound portions.

To package it, I put it in sandwich size ziploc bags, press out all the air and seal it, then wrap it in a layer of freezer paper.


This seems to work great - we'll still be eating this meat in August, until next hunting season, and freezer burn hasn't been an issue for us yet. Mark the package with the contents, and load up the freezer. From the deer we processed this fall, we ended up with 24 pounds of burger in addition to the steaks and roasts we kept out.



Notes and tips:
*Work quickly, and keep your meat cold.
*Have every large bowl in your kitchen clean and ready for use. You'll use them all, and wish you had more.
*Two people working is better than one. It makes the work go faster, and it's more fun that way.
*Get a small kitchen scale. Ours is a little digital that goes up to 10 pounds. You'll be surprised at the number of uses you'll find for it.
*We've used our Kitchen-Aid food grinder, and a Cabela's heavy duty meat grinder. The Cabela's one is about three times faster than the Kitchen-Aid, and doesn't have to be stopped periodically to prevent overheating. It was a worthwhile investment. If you're cooler than we are, you could also use an old fashioned hand-crank grinder. We've done it... well, we tried it. That's a whole lotta work.
*For self-sufficiency reasons, obviously purchased fat isn't absolutely necessary for making burger meat. But the taste is better, and added fat keeps the meat moist. A hamburger with no fat is going to be a dry, crumbly burger, and not very pleasant to eat.
*If you're going to make sausage, leave some of the ground meat out of the freezer, and plan to make the sausage soon. It's not a hard thing to do, and worth the extra effort.
*Clear your counters of everything you don't want blood splattered on. Then, consider using a bit of foil to create a sort of tent over the grind plate. Otherwise, your kitchen will resemble a massacre scene by the time you're finished. Grinding meat is messy work.
*Learn the "butcher wrap", or you'll be going through an insane amount of freezer paper and tape. Ignore the directions on the side of the freezer paper - you'll use twice as much. The trick is the work on the diagonal.
*Do buy freezer tape. It looks just like masking tape, but masking tape will come undone when it gets cold. Freezer tape won't.
*This process is the same for any kind of meat you want to grind. We made sausage out of last season's snow goose as well. Burger/sausage is fabulous for any meat you don't love the taste of (like snow goose) because you can easily cook it in a way that hides the gamey taste.
*The cost analysis: $10 for purchased fat, $20 for deer tag, $1.50 for a fourth of a roll of freezer paper and a bit of tape. $31.50 total. 24 pounds of meat at $31.50 equals $1.31 per pound for free range, grass fed hamburger after two hours of work. Not a bad deal.


This post is shared on Frugal Days, Sustainable Ways.

Boxes everywhere...

It's getting hard to walk through the house without tripping over boxes...

16 days til closing, another five (or so) days after that, and we move to the farm! It's amazing how slowly three weeks can go by, when one is desperately waiting for a dream to come true.

I keep scouring Pinterest for great ideas for the new house, which is only frustrating me because my whole craft room is packed neatly into boxes. There are more "CRAFT" boxes than any others in our house. What does that say about our priorities? Granted, much of it is kid's craft stuff. It's not all my fault.

See my super-awesome organizational skills? Printer labels with the room where the box is to go, one on the top and one on the side.



When we move in, no one will have to wonder where each box ought is to end up, because I will post signs at each door labeling the rooms. Anyone who wants to volunteer can be convinced to help with the move will be able to jump right in and unload boxes from the truck.

Tip: McDonald's fry boxes are the best moving boxes ever, and there is a huge abundance of them. Try to find a McDonald's that separates their cardboard from their regular trash, and you're set to go. They're the perfect size for books, and we have a lot of books.

The Oldest begged and begged to pack her own things, so I sent her down to her room with an empty box. She came up ten minutes later declaring she was too exhausted to continue. There were eight things in the box. Obviously, the kids aren't going to be much help in this endeavor. When I sent them outside with a box to pack the toys from their playhouse, the asked why we couldn't just move the playhouse with all the toys in it. If anyone is great at avoiding any and all extra work, it would be my children.

In our Household Notebook, I have running lists of To-do projects for this house before we rent it out, to-do projects for the new house before we move in, address changes that need to be made, etc. I desperately want this move to go smoothly and quickly. We have one week to get unpacked before seedlings must be started, when we jump in head first in our attempt to farm. Staying organized will be key in keeping things running smoothly.

I'm making double batches of soups, stews, chilis, and everything else that I can possibly freeze, since it may take a few days before my kitchen is in enough order to begin cooking, and the Tiny Little Town doesn't have any fast food restaurants to run to when the children claim they are starving.

All this is really just an attempt to make the days go by a little faster, since mostly I just want to move right now. But patience is a virtue. Right?

Living Deliberately

de·lib·er·ate

 /adj. dɪˈlɪbərɪt; v. dɪˈlɪbəˌreɪt/ Show Spelled [adj. dih-lib-er-it; v. dih-lib-uh-reyt] adjective, verb, -at·ed, -at·ing.

adjective

1.

carefully weighed or considered; studied; intentional: a deliberate lie.

2.

characterized by deliberation; careful or slow in deciding: a deliberate decision.

3.

leisurely and steady in movement or action; slow and even; unhurried: a deliberate step.

===
Mama Kautz asked a great question on Facebook this morning: do you have a word for 2012? Her word is "simple" and I'm looking forward to seeing her move her family closer to that word each day.

My word is "deliberate". I want to live deliberately, and encourage my daughters to do the same. My husband is already deliberate. Maybe he can give me lessons.

Note some of the key words in the above definitions: slow. unhurried. careful.

I'm a spazz by nature. I get an idea in my head and I run with it without ever looking back. Without thinking twice, without considering the consequences. At times this can be good - it means I accomplish a lot sometimes - but there are times that when I finally do look back I shake my head and wonder what on earth I was thinking. I don't want to have to wonder any more!

It's easy to get so caught up in everything going on that we just sort of "float" through our days, float through life, going through the motions without putting any thought or meaning into anything. I want to stop doing that! Every little thing we, as wives and mothers, do can be meaningful if we choose to give it purpose, if we think about it before we act. I want to create the habit of carefully, even prayerfully considering each thing I do as a wife and mother and homemaker.

Moving to a farm has been a very deliberate action. We have considered carefully and slowly the right type of land, we have saved money intentionally, over the past few years we have prepared ourselves with skills to use when we begin our new lifestyle out in the country. It seems to be a good start for my Year of Living Deliberately.

===

So what is your word for the year? What adjective are you going to strive for? I do look forward to hearing about it! Maybe we can convince Mama Kautz to do a weekly link-up as we check in with our progress for living the word we choose for the new year...

Building habits

Each year, I try out a few new "homesteading" skills. Mostly just to see how it goes, learn something new, and stash any knowledge gained away for some day when I might actually need it. But some of the things I've learned over the past few years have become habit: homemade laundry detergent, homemade sausage and pepperoni, homemade noodles and bread, canned tomatoes and fruits and jams. These things have become habit, in the same way we form the habit of making our bed each morning or brushing our teeth, or fixing lunch.

Each year, I add a few new habits. Homemade dishwasher detergent is a new one in our home, and after trying out a few different recipes I'm finally satisfied. All it is is washing soda and borax (also ingredients in laundry detergent) and the secret ingredient: citric acid. Without the citric acid, dishes come out spotty and cloudy. I tried lemon juice and it helped, I tried white vinegar and that wasn't bad, but powdered citric acid turns out dishes that are beautiful and sparkly every time. I found that I can buy citric acid online in bulk for far less than what our local health food store carries it for, and citric acid is the same thing as Fruit Fresh, meaning I can also use it in my canned goods. Fancy. :o)

The chickens are another habit we formed this year: never again will I be able to imagine life without laying hens. No one ever could have convinced me I'd love having chickens as much as I do, but man are they great. Not just for the eggs they lay, but for the compost they produce, and for the fantastic entertainment value. When you don't watch TV, you learn to find amusement by watching other things... like Two Little Girls and the Adventures of the Four Chickens. Chickens take hardly any time at all to care for - five minutes a day to feed, water, and collect eggs, and an extra five or ten minutes a week to clean out the manure and compost it. Of course, this isn't including the hours that Two Little Girls spend outside holding and rocking and petting and combing their hens. But that part isn't necessary, it's just bonus. And even through winter, our girls are providing us with a couple of eggs a day still. We're already looking forward to brooding a new batch of chicks this spring.

On my list of things to try out next year (or some year thereafter):
*Making soap. I'd love to try it with elk or goose fat, just to see how it turns out. I also want to give castille soap a try, since it's the basis for so much everyday cleaning.
*Pressure canning, so I can put up more vegetables without having to worry about running out of freezer space.
*More homemade dairy. I've gotten pretty good at farmer's cheese and yogurt, but I'd love to try out some mozzarella or colby. I'd love it even more if the milk came from our own goats...
*Homemade oils and herbs for medicine. Feverfew was a success this year, and I know certain herbs and teas work great for different minor ailments. I'd love to have my own "medicine garden".

Any other homesteaders out there forming habits, or trying out new skills? I'd love to hear about them, so I can start adding to my list!

Third Annual Christmas Cookie Party

All kinds of fun was had at my Third Annual Christmas Cookie Party.

Never heard of a cookie party? The idea is simple: everyone bakes a double batch of cookies to exchange. We spend a couple of hours eating fattening foods, talking and laughing, visiting and playing games.

First was a quiet game of Jumbled Christmas Words, just to get everyone's brains working a bit.



After that was a game of 7-11: roll the dice, if you get a 7 or an 11, you get to hold on to the prize until someone else gets a 7 or 11.


Whoever is holding the prize when the timer goes off gets to keep it. I'm happy to report that everyone played fair, and there was no fighting (this year.)



The best game by far was Reindeer Antlers. You can read the details here, but the gist of it is that each team blows up balloons and stuffs them into the legs of panty hose.
At the end of the time, the leader of each team puts the nylons on her head, with the legs sticking up like balloon "antlers". Whoever has the best rack wins! It was good, goofy fun all around.


There were a few other games, some more eating, and then came the voting for The Golden Spatula award. Each person tastes a little bit of each cookie and votes on their favorite. And the 2011 Golden Spatula Award winner is.......



Lisa won for the second year in a row, with her fantastically rich Peppermint Cream Bars. There were so many unique and creative recipes this year, and some great old standbys: Alfajores, Peanut Butter Cookie Candy Bars, honey almond biscotti, chocolate toffee shortbread, and snickerdoodles. These ladies really upped the ante this year since they knew it was a contest. Apparently that Golden Spatula Award is quite coveted.

Thanks to all the girls that came this year, I had a blast and hope you did, too. My family enjoyed all your cookies tremendously. To anyone that didn't come this year and wants to be added to the invitation list, let me know. There's nothing quite so fun as hokey house-wife parties during the holiday season. :o)

Coring Pears the Easy Way

Every once in awhile, I come across some utterly fabulous tip for making kitchen work easier. My friend Katie passed this one on to me, and I'm forever grateful!

If you've ever tried coring pears, you'll know that it's tedious work. Of course, it's not bad if you're only coring a pear or two, but if you happen to need to remove the cores from forty pounds of pears, it can be slow going.

Unless you've got a melon baller.

Just cut the pear in half and use the melon baller to scoop out the core. It makes for the prettiest pear halves you've ever seen, and it's about a million times faster than trying to use a knife.

Do feel free to share any other ingenious kitchen shortcuts here - I'm all ears! :-)

The End of the Canning Season

Happily, canning season is coming to an end. Aside from possibly one more box of apples, I've finished all I plan to do for the year. And oh man, is it satisfying to be able to say that!



I haven't written much about canning this year, mostly because it's all the same stuff I wrote last year, and the year before that. Nothing's changed much except that I can kick out jars of canned goodness much more quickly with each passing year.



Here's the list of what's in the "pantry" (read: shelves in the basement. Because I have no real pantry.)

Peaches: 16 quarts
Nectarines: 5 quarts
Apricots: 7 quarts
Pears: 10 quarts
Tomatoes: 15 quarts

Strawberry jam: 16 pints
Apricot jam: 3 half-pints
Apple jelly: 5 pints
Peach jam: 8 pints
Cherry preserves: 3 half-pints
Applesauce: 8 pints

Pear chutney: 13 half-pints
Salsa: 19 pints

Bread & butter pickles: 7 pints
Zucchini pickles: 3 pints
Dill pickles: 3 pints

Apple pie filling: 7 quarts
Apple cider: 4 quarts

I just added it up: 152 jars of food. Wow.

Since peach season in August, I've spent about four hours canning each week, usually a couple of hours on free afternoons, after school is finished and the girls are enjoying some free time (or hang-out-in-the-kitchen-with-Mom time.) It's tiring, but not overwhelming.

And I'm done! We'll have enough fruits, sauces, jams, jellies and pickles to last well into summer next year. Feasibly, all I'll have to buy is bananas. We can snack on canned fruits, have them for breakfasts and desserts all through the winter. I've got about 15 pints of dried fruits as well, which make for lovely snacks.



I'm in the mood for a bit of math. Let's see how much all this food costs to put by. Because math is cool, right?

Peaches - 4 boxes @ $10
Nectarines - 1 box @ $5
Tomatoes - 4 boxes @ 5.50
Pears - 2 boxes @ $8
Apples - 2 boxes @8
Strawberries - 8 pints @ $2
Cherries - 2 lbs @ 1.50
Apricots - free from a neighbor's tree

So about $118 in fruit. All the vegetables I grew in the garden. The costs of the other ingredients I'll estimate at about $50, which seems high except that I use organic raw cane sugar for all the fruit and jellies. That also includes the boxes of pectin, and extra vegetables, spices and such for the salsa and chutney. Figure another $30 for lids for all the jars. So about $200, rounded up, for 152 jars of mostly organic food, or approximately $1.30 per jar.

A jar of organic jam costs $4. Half-pints of chutney sell at farmer's market for $6. A quart of organic canned fruit is almost $5.

I have no desire to do *that much math. But clearly, I'm saving money. A lot of it.

And this food is local! Well, most of it is, anyway. I've talked to the farmers, I know many of them by name. I can ask them whether they spray their crops, or use chemical fertilizers. There's the proof that eating organic and local really is possible, and doesn't have to be that expensive. Is it a lot of work? Well, yes... but it's enjoyable work. It's work that allows for time spent chatting and singing with my daughters or friends in the kitchen, and enjoying the feeling of accomplishment that comes from knowing I'm feeding my family well. And it rarely actually feels like work.

More and more moms my age are canning every year it seems, and I love hearing about it! Wal-Mart sold out of their canning supplies this year, along with most other stores here in town. I think this whole canning/preserving thing is really taking off (for the second time around.)

A New Bedtime

Bed time is sacred in our house. Only on very rare occasions does it get messed with. My daughters are always in bed at eight o'clock. They are permitted to read or do other quiet activities until they fall asleep, but for this mama, quiet time commences at eight each night. Especially now with no more nap times, I need a couple of hours to myself at the end of the day if I'm to maintain the level of sanity I need to actually raise these children.

So it's a really big deal when I write that I raised The Oldest's bedtime. She's allowed to stay up til nine now.

Somehow, when I wasn't looking, this little girl went and grew up! She's matured, become quite responsible and dependable. She was at her real dad's house for a day this weekend, so I was taking care of her chores too, and I realized how much more it felt like I was doing. She's really, truly helpful! Not "little girl helpful" - stirring the bowl of muffin batter or haphazardly shoving her own clean clothes into drawers - but truly helpful, honestly making a difference when it comes to keeping our home neat and tidy.

She feeds the chickens and the dog, she empties the dishwasher and loads the rinsed dishes, she sorts the recycling, puts away all the laundry except Mommy and Daddy's, makes her bed and (mostly) cleans her room. At any time I can ask her to dust the living room or clean the bathroom and she'll do a great job of it. During this harvest time, when I'm in the kitchen for a couple of hours on most days, she's often in there helping me. She's peeled ten pounds of carrots in one sitting, she peeled, pitted and sliced a whole 20 pound box of peaches for canning, she dices tomatoes for the freezer.

Obviously, it's not that she does all of that every single day, but she does it as needed. And here's the kicker - She does it with a good attitude!

Okay, well, mostly. But ya know, there are times that I want to pout about washing the dishes, too. Usually she's standing next to me cheerfully going about her tasks. It's not infrequent for her to come to me and say, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

What a blessing this little girl is to me.

And so, I raised her bedtime to nine o'clock. Staying up late is special to a little girl, and this little girl deserves it. Staying up later means you're more responsible, and this sweet girl has become amazingly responsible. It gives her a whole hour of time without her sister, time to play just what she wants without interruption. It gives us time to chat if we want to, or to sit and knit quietly together.

Seeing that my girl is growing up is killing me. I'm not ready for her to move into the "young lady" stage yet, and she's nearing it quickly. But seeing her grow up, and seeing who she is becoming, is utterly heartwarming, too.

Kitchen Curtains: Finished!

In case you were wondering what happened with the Kitchen Curtain Project (because I'm sure you all have nothing more important to do than think about my kitchen curtains), I'm happy to report that I finally finished them.

Ta-da!

I am a terrible photographer. And taking pictures
of curtains is not easy. Forgive the awful photos.

Kitchen curtains. We've lived in this house for five years, and it finally looks like someone lives here.



Overall, I'm really happy with them. They change the look of the kitchen so much. They don't cover my beloved windows too much, but they make it look a little bit homier, and that was my goal. There's not one bit of peach in them, and yet they managed to tie in the Ugly Cabinets nicely (saving me from having to paint the cabinets and yes, even making me almost start to like them.) They're retro-vintage-y but still simple, and I love that about them. And I got to use nine different fabrics, which is always fun, especially when it involves patchwork.

Lace shopping was more of a chore than I expected it to be. Apparently, lace is pretty expensive stuff, especially when you need to buy twenty four yards of it. Everything I found in town (which wasn't much) was going to double the cost of the whole project. In looking around online, I found Lace Heaven, where I was able to purchase just the right laces for $.25 to $.39 a yard. The shipping was faster than I was expecting, and they actually gave me more than the yardage I ordered. Because I was ordering more than 5 yards, I even got a discount on the already insanely low prices. I'm not normally one to push other websites and stuff, but if you're in the market for lace, definitely check out that site. It's a keeper.

The best part of all? Every last bit of them was sewn on the Singer. And that thrills me, even though no one will ever be able to tell.

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Two other pictures I took today and thought I'd share:

After a week of gorgeous, gardening-in-tank-tops weather, the first of the daffodils finally blossomed. Just in time for a mid-March evening snow.
And a picture of the Baby Chickens. Because they're cute, and it's spring, and everyone should be looking at pictures of baby animals.

(That's Goldilocks - the shy one- on top,
Matilda -the feisty puffball- on the left, and
Mrs. Tweets -the noisy runt- in front.)

Kitchen Curtains: Progress

So I bought fabric for the Kitchen Curtain Project. (Thanks to those who are clearly more creative than I am, and offered suggestions and ideas.) I'm still not entirely sure where I'm going with it, but I didn't want to let that little detail stop me from indulging in a bit of fabric shopping.

I'm not a fancy fabric shopper. Since JoAnn's closed, I'm limited to two fabric shopping options: Hobby Lobby and a local shop with Good Fabric. Since the ladies at the Good Fabric Store are usually stuck up and irritated by my children, I stick with the minimal selection at Hobby Lobby and make the best of it. If you go in looking for coordinating fabrics, you don't have to do any footwork - they have it all laid out on the racks with coordinating fabrics side by side.

But I needed at least eight fabrics that coordinated. And you can't get that at Hobby Lobby. So I had to suck it up and brave the cranky old ladies (and the terrifying prices) of the Good Fabric Store.

This is the sort of store that abhors small children. There are signs everywhere demanding that you keep constant control of your children, to the point of actually making threats. I think they actually have paid employees to follow around those darn women who dare to bring in their children, barking at the kids each time they touch anything. Really? If your fabric is going to disintegrate if my child just touches it, do I really want to buy it? I fabric shop the same way I yarn shop: I do a lot of fondling. My children, having learned from me, do exactly the same thing. Who can blame them?

But anyway. My kids proved to me today that I've not completely failed them when it comes to teaching them how to behave in public. They sat and played quietly in the children's area for forty five minutes. They didn't bother anyone, they didn't have to go to the bathroom, they didn't scream or fight or yell. They behaved exactly like good little girls ought to. Omgoodness, it was absolutely thrilling for me, let me tell ya.

So yes, it took me forty five minutes to choose eight fabrics. I realize that's ridiculous, but the moment I walked it the store my heart started racing, my palms started sweating... oh, it's all so overwhelming! You want a rusty-burnt-orange sort of color? Sure, just check that rack over there... and these two racks here, and this row over here, and, oh, don't forget about those racks in the back there. Heh. Yeah. Out of about eleventeen-hundred viable options, I managed to narrow it down to eight. I feel mighty accomplished.

Help! - with my kitchen windows

Okay, so here's the deal: I'm Interior Design Challenged, and I know it. I decorate my house in the same way that I dress myself: I use what I love, with little regard to what is stylish or fashionable. I'd love to tell you it's "shabby chic", but it's really more of a "yard sale/thrift store/hand-me-down chic." I've always been perfectly okay with that, because I'm surrounded with things that really make me happy.

But I have A Problem. See these windows?



That's the kitchen eating area. There are few architectural elements of my home that I truly adore, and these windows top that list. I love that I can sit at the kitchen table and see every inch of my backyard, where Two Little Girls spend three fourths of the year. I love that they add a feel of airiness to what is probably the second-smallest kitchen on the face of the planet. (The smallest kitchen was in my first apartment. This one vies for a close second.) I truly enjoy summer mornings spent drinking coffee in the warm sunshine and gazing out at the lushness of the garden.

What I don't love is that there are no window treatments. Because, while I know I'm Interior Design Challenged, I'm just flat-out helpless when it comes to window treatments, and this being my favorite part of my whole house, well, I don't want to screw it up. I get little glimmers of ideas that could probably become something great, but I never know exactly where to take those ideas to come up with a finished product.

Here's my bit of a glimmer:



I love this apron*. I love the patchwork, I love the linen, I love the lace. I also realize how completely non-functional it would be as an apron, since I'm a messy cook and off-white linen would only serve to advertise that fact. But can't you imagine this as kitchen curtains? And if I did it this way, I could try to incorporate the peach color of my horridly ugly kitchen cabinets (that I'm still attempting to embrace for all that they are.)

BUT. But. What kind of curtains? I'm rather smitten with the idea of cafe curtains, except that then I wouldn't be able to look out those lovely windows, and I think it would really close in the area. So valances? Can I do valances in a kitchen without it looking weird? Cafe curtains with valances? But then where would I use patchwork, and where would I use the linen, and would it be too much in such a tiny space?

You see my problem? How on earth do I make these decisions? If you were me, oh lovely blog readers that I hope are more inclined toward interior decor than I am, what would you do?

*The apron pictured is from the book A is for Apron by Nathalie Mornu - my current fave craft book.

The Singer

I love antiques. I don't love them for their monetary value, but for their historical value, the idea of where they've been and who has used them. I love what they stand for: an earlier, simpler time, a time when things were made to last instead of to be replaced when a new model was available. Most of the antiques I have, I use. My cheese grater is the old box metal variety, made before 1940. When my (newfangled) pastry cutter fell apart when I was making biscuits, I remembered there was a perfectly good old wire one hanging on my wall. I have and wear aprons made as early as 1910 - they still wash and wear beautifully. Old canning jars line my counter tops, storing dried fruits, spices and seasonings.

Two days ago, my aunt gave me an incredible gift:

Her fully operable antique Singer sewing machine. The serial number and a bit of research tells me it was produced between 1913 and 1915. It's in amazing shape, when you consider the fact that it's nearly 100 years old. Of course, it's also cast-iron - it won't be wearing out any time soon.



Of course, I couldn't see any good reason not to use it.

Have you ever tried sewing on a treadle sewing machine? It's sort of like riding a bike and sewing at the same time. Or rubbing your tummy and patting your head, with your feet rocking the treadle while your hands guide your fabric. It certainly takes some getting used to. I managed, though, after looking up some tips and hints on the best way to use it.



Sewing my first seam was thrilling. Sewing my first straight, neat, even seam (about 20 tries later) was even more thrilling. Now that I've (mostly) got the hang of it, I can't find too many reasons to go back to electric sewing. The treadle definitely gives you more control over every stitch. Of course, there is the fact that it lacks a zig-zag. And a button hole option. And the other 40 fancy decorative stitches that my electronic one does. But for most sewing, I think it's perfectly feasible to use this one. I like that it is quiet, that it fits conveniently in my living room, and that it doesn't need to be set near a plug. Mostly though, I'll use it because I just love the idea of it altogether.

Of course, since I figured it out, I've been sewing obsessively. Which is nice, considering I haven't been in the mood to sew for months. I made an apron:

Smock-style, copied from a vintage one I bought at a yard sale, but altered to fit me a little better. For good measure (and because I couldn't decide on fabric) I made it reversible:

After that, I felt a little more confident in my ability to really control the machine... but only a little. So I made another apron:

Sewing all that bias tape around all those curves on a treadle sewing machine? Not the easiest thing I've ever done, but maybe the most tedious. I almost gave up, until I reminded myself that a good housewife in the early 1900's could make an entire Victorian gown on one of those machines, so there was no reason I couldn't manipulate a bit of bias tape.

This one is "The Waldorf" from the book A is for Apron by Nathalie Mornu, with my own hand-drawn pattern because I didn't want to pay to have the one in the book copied and enlarged. I'm giving this one to my aunt, as a way of thanking her for the machine and letting her know it will certainly be used.

And then I'll go back to the fabric store, because making aprons on a treadle sewing machine is apparently quite addicting, and I'm pretty sure I don't have enough aprons yet.

The Responsibilities of the Big Sister.

There are a lot of benefits to being the oldest.

Like getting to lick all the brownie batter without any help because your little sister is taking a nap while Mom's baking.

I have dozens of pictures of my children licking spatulas, wooden spoons, bowls and beaters. Because they do this at least once a week. It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it. They don't complain much though. :o)

Pumpkin Pie Play-dough

We have 28 different shades of store-bought Play Doh. But that fact wasn't enough to stop me when I ran across this article with directions for Pumpkin Pie Play Dough on familyfun.com.

Play dough that smells like pumpkin pie? Ingenious! Because really, anything that smells like pumpkin pie is ingenious. (Except pumpkin pie itself, which I find disgusting.)

I let the girls help mix it. They both saw how much salt went in. I explained to them that this play dough would smell really yummy, but would taste terrible. They both nodded their understanding. And then I gave them each a ball to play with. And they both sniffed it. And the first thing they each did was tear off a little piece and eat it. They listen well.



Anyway, we made the green pasta 'stems' to use for pumpkins. When that got boring (which it quickly did) I gave them each a little pile of black beans, popcorn kernels, and rose hips, and some bamboo skewers and popsicle sticks. That made it a lot more fun - we had sculpted faces, aliens, and even Buddha. (I'm sad the Buddha got destroyed before I got a photo, because he was pretty fantastic.)



If you're looking for a great way to entertain kids when it's spitting snow outside and you've still got three hours til dinnertime, or if you want your house to smell like pumpkin pie without nearly as much effort as an actual pie, homemade play dough sculptures just might be the answer. No need to seek the fancy, expensive activities - the simple ones still seem to thrill them plenty.

A goose feather pillow - finally.

Back in March, hubby went on a goose hunt and came home with six geese. If you'll remember, I kept some of the goose feathers with the intention of making a pillow.

The first step in making a goose-feather pillow is to freeze any creepy crawlies out of the feathers. I filled a trash bag with feathers and stuck them in the freezer for two weeks. Then I pulled them out for a week (giving any remaining eggs a chance to hatch) and put them back in for another four weeks. At the end of this process, any lice, etc. are supposed to be dead. I hope.

The feathers then sat in my craft room until July, when I finally got around to making a muslin sack for them. Of course, Two Little Girls were more than happy to help stuff the pillow.



And then the plain muslin pillow sat for another three and a half months until today, when I finally got around to making a cute little pillowcase for it.



The inspiration for the pillowcase came from Sew Liberated - the book that also had the pattern for the cute little apron I made awhile back. Of course, I had to return that book to the library months ago, so I just worked from memory. I'm happy with the result though.
Simple applique using scrap fabric and a hand-drawn pattern, and the blanket stitch setting on my sewing machine. This is the kind of project that in and of itself isn't terribly exciting or unique, but it's one I'll love dearly since I know what went into making it.

Truly, it wasn't hard. There is no good reason for the fact that it took me six months, other than that I just kept getting distracted. I informed my dear husband that I'd like to make more. The look he gave me made it clear that he has no intention of spending that much time plucking goose feathers again. Darn. I guess I should give up on the idea of a goose-down body pillow then...

A Site to Share

As I'm finishing up with the year's canning, I find myself frequently referencing Pick Your Own - a website devoted to eating fresh, healthy, local foods by preserving them.

I found the site awhile back, when I first started learning to can things. Ever since, I've checked it out for just about every item I put by. Most of the recipes are Ball Blue Book basics, but they're laid out with pictures and tips for making the work easier.

There is also information for processing and freezing pumpkin, zucchini, and most other garden vegetables.

If you want to learn to can, but still think it sounds intimidating, do check out Pick Your Own - it does such a great job of simplifying everything and making it really seem doable.

Garden to Table Challenge - Week Eleven

Hey, look at that - I'm actually posting when I'm supposed to be!

This is the last week to enter the Garden to Table Challenge. Prizes will be drawn this week, so if you'd like to enter, this is the week to do it! Just share what you've been cooking, from your garden or locally purchased fruits and veggies, and link up with Wendy at Greenish Thumb.

This week's 'recipe' is a simple, high-energy, tasty, and mostly homemade snack. It's not really a recipe, and it's completely alterable, but here's what we had on hand this morning.

Spiced pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, dried apples, and dried apricots.



To make spiced pumpkin seeds (you have GOT to try these):

Wash and dry your pumpkin seeds. I scrub them over a colander, then spread them on a stoneware cookie sheet overnight to dry.

Mix up your tasty goodness: about four tablespoons of melted butter, a dash of salt, then cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves to your taste. (Or you could use allspice. Or you could use apple pie spice. Or you could use anything else that sounds good.) I added a pinch of stevia. If you're not on a no-sugar diet, you could add some sugar instead. Mix all that in a bowl to make a "sauce".

Put your dry pumpkin seeds in a plastic bag. (Or a bowl.) Pour the "sauce" over them, seal the bag, and let your small ones squish the bag to their heart's content. (Or stir in the sauce, if you're using a bowl.) Make sure the seeds are well covered, then spread onto a baking sheet.

Bake at 275* til golden, stirring about every five minutes. Mine took almost half an hour.

Then, unless you had no plans for them, hide them from your children, who will happily burn their tongues on the hot seeds in order to eat them as quickly as you'll allow.

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To the spiced pumpkin seeds, I added some dried apples (from a local farm), dried apricots (from a neighbor's tree) and sunflower seeds (some from our yard, some from the store.) Then I raided the cupboards to see what else would be good with them, and found some raisins, almonds, cashews, walnuts and dates.

I make up little baggies of mixes like this anytime we're going to be out and about during the day. Inevitably, children end up starving dramatically as soon as we walk into a store. This seems to fend that off, and I can snack along with them and not feel too guilty about it.

And now, we'll take our snack mix along as we go parade on Main Street with the other kids in costumes, in hopes that my children will fill up on this wholesomeness before they have sacks full of candy to devour.