Grandma

This is a picture I received the other day as text from K2.  Unfortunatly I'm a cheapskate and don't have a smartphone.  In fact, I carry a flip-phone (cuz it was the sturdiest of the two free upgrade non-smartphones that Verizon had to offer last summer).  Anyway, the screen on my phone is so small I couldn't tell what this picture was until I emailed it to myself and looked at it on the big honking 17" computer screen.

.

Today K2 called and told me she had just left her Dr.'s office, and that the doctor confirmed it.

I am going to be a grandma again next July!!

600-some

That's how many jars of stuff I have down in my cellar.  All put up by me.  Lard, maple syrup, jams, pickles of various kinds, beans, beets, tomatoes (and sauce and paste and juice), applesauce and pear sauce, pears and peaches, salsas galore. . .

And there is more yet to come.  I have yet to do the sauerkraut, which first gets fermented in the big antique crock that DH's grandmother gave me years and years ago.  When it is done fermenting, I can it in quart jars.  Although this year I'm thinking with such an awesome cabbage harvest I will have enough kraut to can and also to experiment with leaving some in the crock to eat "fresh".  I also have yet to make apple juice out of the bushel of apples that never made it into the press last Sunday.  And there is two pigs' worth of fat in my deep freeze, awaiting an opening in my schedule for a lard making day.

It is a lot of work, to be sure, putting up that many jars of foodstuffs.  But the hours of work seem to disappear in a giddy haze when I open my cellar door and gaze upon all those jars.  To grocery shop my own cellar, with it's array of preservative free organic offerings is the most enjoyable kind of grocery shopping there is.

Just One

Just one kitten left now.  The orange one died on Sunday.  So the black and white one is a lonely only.

Good news is that he has gained two ounces, eats very well, and is hitting developmental milestones.  Of the three nearly dead kittens that I brought into the house one week ago this morning, he has always been the strongest.

Last Tuesday morning, he could raise his head and it was his loud crying that caused me to discover that mama barn cat had abandoned her kittens.  Last Tuesday evening, he could scoot around somewhat, but still not strong enough to stand.  He needed help going potty (using a warm wet wash cloth to simulate a mother cat cleaning under the baby's tail was the only way to get any of the kittens to eliminate or urinate.)

Well, today, this Tuesday, he not only stands, he runs. He potties all by himself, sometimes on people, sometimes on my floor.  This morning I saw him try to stand on just hind legs so he could get a better view of my kitchen cabinets.  He is trying to figure out how to jump.  He climbs pant legs.  He climbs right up to your shoulder, puts his little body against your neck and purrs.  He snuggles.  He is starting to wash himself, and lick people too.  Yesterday he attempted to play with me as if I were another cat.  At feeding time, he attacks his food dish with gusto.

All good signs.  All hopeful signs that this one will survive.  I'm almost confident enough in his survival to start looking for a new home for him.  An indoor one, where people want to have a snuggly cat that is going to be very bonded to people.

Something Old, Something New. . .

Several years ago, Mother-in-Law brought us what she called a 'cider press'.  She brought it to us because 1) we have a lot of wild apple trees in the woods and DH had mentioned wanting to try to make cider, 2) she had this old press sitting around somewhere (cellar?  basement?  barn?) gathering dust and she rediscovered it while looking for antiques to sell, 3) she didn't want it sitting around taking up space and gathering dust at her place anymore.

The first fall we had it, DH traveled too much for work and before we knew it, the time for pressing apples had come and gone.  The second fall we had it, there were no apples to be found, due to late frosts and freezing weather in May after the trees had pollinated.

This year, we have an abundance of apples. In fact, one limb of one tree in the woods broke because it was so overloaded with apples.  Off of that one limb, DH and I harvested a bushel and a half of apples.  Those, we designated as our cider apples.

Yesterday we finally got around to pressing apples.  With excitement, I had cleaned and sanitized the cider press.  DH and I had washed off the first half-bushel of apples, our trial batch.  We had talked for years of making cider, and now we were actually doing it!  A new skill to add to our portfolios, a new product off our own land!

We loaded the press about half full--which was maybe 1/6 of that half-bushel of apples we'd washed.  DH started cranking on the wheel of the press, slowly mashing down on the apples.

Slowly is the operative word.  It went. . . slowly.  Really, really slowly.  The press didn't seem able to crush the apples.  So, we released the pressure, I fished around in the barrel of the press, pulled out mostly whole apples, and cut them into quarters with a knife.  We put the lid back on, DH started cranking again.

I'll just cut to the chase here instead of dragging you through three hours of trial and error, and figuring out that what we have is not a cider press.  It seems to be a fruit press, more suited for grapes and other easily squish-able things (like, say, tomatoes!!  I have an idea for next year's tomato juice!) than for apples.

We gave up on the idea of pressing all bushel and a half of apples.  We squashed the original half-bushel as much as we could; after I cut them into smallish chunks.  Our result was a bit over 1/2 gallon of cider.

I decided the other bushel of apples I would just cook down into juice and can that. They are tasty apples, made delicious cider, but not for that amount of effort.  DH said he'd rather pay $8 a gallon from the store than get 1/2 gallon for 3 hours of sweat and cranking on that darn press.

Organic, hand-pressed, unfiltered, unpasteurized apple cider.

Priceless?

Today the cider looks like cider.  Nice and golden brown.  Yesterday it was rather an off-putting brackish green by the time we got done fooling around with the press.  It tasted delicious right off the bat, but was the kind of thing you'd want to close your eyes before drinking.  Otherwise you might not have been brave enough to drink it.  Today I have to fight people off of it!

We also carved pumpkins this weekend, and made doughnuts to eat after the pumpkin carving was completed.

frying doughnuts, two at a time

your choice of powdered sugar, or cinnamon sugar

Breaking My Own Rule

When we built the house at this little place here, we made a rule.

No Animals In The House. 

This rule was made because DS2 had many allergies, and cats and dogs were among them. It wouldn't be so bad if those allergies just manifested as sneezing, itchy eyes and runny nose.  But no, he has asthma, and when he was young his asthma attacks could be sudden and extremely severe.  So, with this brand new house we didn't want to introduce any animal dander or allergens to the structure.

We told our children that all animals, pets or otherwise, had to live outdoors.  And, through the years, we've stuck to that rule.  Pretty much.  DH would break it now and then, to bring the dogs into the basement when winter weather turned severely cold.  But only for a night or two.  No animal could live indoors.  And no animals could come on the main floor where us people spent a lot of our time when home.

Until this week.  On Tuesday I discovered that the mama cat out in the barn had, apparently, abandoned her kittens.  We'd seen her near them, but not with them, just about every time we'd been in the barn in the several days prior.  Then Tuesday morning I went to the barn to hear piteous crying, no mama cat in sight, and two kittens all ready dead.  The three living ones were very skinny and weak; one looked in really bad shape (I expected it to die soon), the other two could at least pick their own heads up.

Being tender hearted, I scooped up the three struggling kittens, put them inside my coat (oh my goodness, their little bodies were so cold!), and brought them into the house.  In the house, I fixed them up with a box, some rags, and two hot water bottles.  Then I set to soaking some cat food in hot water until it was mush, and syringe feeding them.  It was all I had, and I just had to try.

By that afternoon, the smallest weakest one could hold his head up.  I nicknamed him "Tiny Tim". The other two could stand on their feet.  Things looked favorable for successful kitten rescue.

I read up on care of three week old orphaned kittens.  Some sites said to give them KMR, kitten milk replacer, but I didn't have any of that.  All sites said not to give cows milk, that it would cause diarrhea and dehydration. So I kept making them warm cat food mush and syringe feeding them.

Wednesday morning, Tiny Tim ate well, and could even stand up.  I began to think he would pull through, even though he'd been much weaker and closer to death than the two larger kittens when I had discovered them 24 hours previous.

On Wednesday evening, Tiny Tim relapsed.  He had been peeing and pooping, as had the other two kittens, when stimulated to do so.  He had been eating, although not much.  His eyes, up until mid-afternoon on Wednesday, had been wide and bright.  By Thursday noon, Tim was gone.  I cried.  It was just so unfair.  Poor little guy.  He had wanted to make it.  He had looked so good, so normal, on Wednesday morning.

Meanwhile, the other two, which as of yet do not have names, continue to hang in there.  They eat, sometimes heartily, sometimes not so well.  They turned four weeks old on Thursday, and have started to pee and poop on their own.  They meow when they want attention, or food, or need their water bottles refreshed with hot water.  They try to climb out of the box sometimes, and when I take them out, they walk around on legs getting ever stronger.  They started purring yesterday, and seem to like to climb up to my shoulder, burrow under my hair, and sit there, purring.

They are still little skeletons, weighing just five ounces and six ounces, but I think they will make it.  I hope they make it. They are starting to figure out how to bite and eat the soft, squishy food instead of having to be fed slowly by a syringe. We are all putting in a lot of effort (and a grocery trip for special kitten food) to tip the scales in their favor.

And in two weeks, when they are solidly into the whole eating and pooping and self-care thing that six week old kittens normally are, they will need a new home.  Because I definitely can't put them back out into the barn to be barn cats.  Not in November, not in the cold with no mother to make sure they stay warm at night.  And I can't let them become house cats here.  Because we have a rule about animals in the house.  Even though DS2 no longer lives here, I still don't want animal dander becoming a fixture in the furniture and nooks and crannies of the house.  It will still affect him on the occasion that he does come for a visit.

exploring

they found me!

how could I not break the rule for a 5 ounce cat?

learning how to eat is a full contact sport

Going Into the Dark Season

Come September, we are all a little bit sleepier.  Perhaps it is the hectic late summer pace we keep here, with the gardening and canning and putting up of summer's bounty.  Perhaps it is a subconscious reaction to school starting--oh, school, how it sucks a person's energy!  Most likely, and what I do believe, is that it has a lot to do with the noticeable lessening of daylight hours.

The amount of daylight has been decreasing steadily since the summer solstice in June.  But it seems that it doesn't really hit you (actually, me, and DH too although he poo-poos the idea) until closer to the autumnal equinox.  After that it's light's out, literally, until the brighter sunnier days of mid-January.

Right now, we are nearly to the end of daylight savings time in Michigan.  Which means that when the alarm goes off at 6 a.m., it is pitch black dark outside and nobody really wants to get up.  Not at all like 6 a.m. in early June, when the sun is up, shining cheerfully, and the birds are singing along.

Nope, 6 a.m. in late October is groan, punch the alarm clock, pull the covers up a little higher, will yourself to deep sleep in the nine minutes until the alarm goes off again. Repeat scenario a few more times, giving the snooze button a workout, until getting out of bed is inevitable.  Because if you don't get up right now, you will be late for work, or miss the school bus.

It also means that horses are fed in the dark, out in the last stands of summer pasturage.  The tractor headlights light up the fence line, and the waiting forms of horses anxious for their morning hay to supplement the dwindling grass.

After daylight savings time ends, mornings will be briefly brighter, dusky for a few weeks, then they will return to darkness.  By then horses will be moved into the barns, into stalls each night where they can rest out of the wind and cold.  But dinner time will then become the dark time.  Deer hunting will end at six (or even five-thirty!) instead of seven thirty.

Work will slowly move into more of an indoor nature, and less of an outdoor one.  The garden will be put to bed.  The only "food" needing to be "harvested" will be of the cervid variety (aka deer). The lawn will sleep, needing no more maintenance until April. The hay field too will slumber. There will be no weeding to do in the flowerbeds.

Indoors, we will work on projects, perhaps making Christmas presents, perhaps tackling a home improvement that was put off until there was less daylight hours keeping us busy outdoors.  And I will plan next year's garden, of course, browsing through the seed catalogs that will appear in the mailbox around Christmas time.  Catalogs that will be received with much more excitement than the ones that showcase clothing, or purses, or doo-dads for the home.

Amid this descent into the dark season, the sewing machine gets used a bit more frequently than it did during the season of long daylight.  Currently I've been working on some blocks for a quilt swap I'm participating in.  The theme of this one is "blacks, brights and batiks".  It is perfect for cheering me up on a gloomy, chill, rainy (or sleety!) fall day.  This morning I managed to snatch a little time at the sewing machine between chores, and finished my required number of blocks.

They are bright and cheerful.  Bright enough that I am thinking I might want to keep making more blocks of the same theme colors, and make a table runner or lap quilt to brighten up the coming winter days and nights.

All the block instructions came from http://quilterscache.com/QuiltBlocksGalore.html.  Top is Amish Star; I made 3 blocks of this pattern. There are 4 Pinwheel blocks; 3 corners and 3rd row 2nd from left (bottom right corner I did a variation, making my points a different color). 2nd row 2nd from left is Double Aster, which looks hard to make, but is actually very easy and cool to piece. 2nd row right corner, 3rd row 2nd from right and 4th row 2nd from left are Monkey Wrench.  The final pattern I made is called Woven Ribbons and appears in the 3rd row right side and 4th row 2nd from right.

Blessed

DH took a buck with his crossbow yesterday evening.

8 pt, dressed out at 170 pounds.

We have red meat!

Just one basket of the approximate bushel I harvested off our Granny Smith apple tree yesterday.

Many of the Granny Smiths were quite large, like this one.

They will go in the cellar to store as fresh eating apples this winter.

My Cortlands became apple sauce, 

and my McIntoshes were sliced for pies and put into the freezer.

Yesterday was also the harvesting of all that cabbage that was left in the garden.

These are just four of several dozen heads.

Sauerkraut and cabbage rolls,

here we come!

Copra onions cleaned, and ready for storage.

It is often easy to get overwhelmed in the day to day work of growing and providing your own food.  But boy, what a blessing it is to have naturally grown, nutritious, and sustaining fare for my family.