Pickles

This appears to be a good cucumber year in my garden.  I planted several rows, as I typically do, hoping for enough productive plants to allow me to make at least a dozen quarts of dill pickles. This year, unlike most, the majority of the cukes I planted not only sprouted, but they grew.  Not only did they grow, but they have been prolifically blooming, with apparently awesome pollination rates based on the numbers of  pickle sized cucumbers I have been harvesting pretty much every other day for over a week and a half now.

Which means I've been canning pickles nearly every other day for more than 10 days now!  It takes more than a handful of cucumbers to fill a quart sized jar, so most canning batches have been in the two or three quart range.  After not picking cukes for three days straight, I did fill not just FIVE quart jars with dill pickles, but I also sliced the overly large cucumbers into rings that tallied up to 9 pints of hamburger dills.

So far I am totaling 13 quarts of dill pickles, plus those 9 pints of hamburger slices.  And the cucumbers are still coming!!  Thankfully the pickle recipe I use is pretty simple and quick, if you don't count the overnight soak in lime water and the three hours of soaking in fresh water after that.  After a few years of experimentation with different recipes, and a few adaptations of my own, this is the recipes I have come up with to make the flavor of dill pickles that my family likes:

Dill Pickles

freshly picked pickling cucumbers 3-5 inches in length
1/4 cup pickling lime
1/2 gallon water

Wash the cucumbers and remove the blossom from the end.  Put into a large non-metal bowl--metal will react with the lime.  (I use a plastic bowl, as the lime will leave an ugly but harmless film on glass). Mix the lime in to the water (be careful not to breathe in the lime; it's not good for your lungs) and pour over the cucumbers.  Make sure all the cucumbers can be submerged in the lime water; depending on how many cukes you have, you may need to mix up a bit more lime solution.

Let the cucumbers soak in the lime water overnight (or about 8-10 hours).  Drain off the water, rinse out the bowl, and rinse the cucumbers thoroughly to remove lime residue.  Then put the cucumbers back in the bowl, and cover with fresh, cold water.  Let soak 1 hour and repeat the drain-rinse-soak cycle twice more for a total of three hours of soaking in fresh water.

fresh water soak

Near the end of the third round of soaking, fill your water bath canner about 3/4 full and put it on the stove on high heat.  Also, in a separate large pan or pot, make a solution of

1 cup vinegar
1 cup water
1 Tablespoon pickling salt
1/2 teaspoon turmeric

for each quart jar of pickles you will be making.  (In other words, if I have enough pickles to fill 2 quarts I use 2 cups each of vinegar and water, 2 Tbsp salt and 1 tsp turmeric.  6 quarts would need 6 cups each vinegar and water, 6 Tbsp salt and 3 tsp turmeric).

Heat this mixture to boiling, then reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, into each quart jar put

2 heads dill
2 cloves of garlic, peeled
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
1/2 teaspoon celery seeds
as many cucumbers as you can stuff in the jar leaving 1/4 inch head space.

Let the filled jars sit in a sink of very hot water while your vinegar solution simmers.  Once the simmering time has been met, and the jars are warmed from being in the hot water, ladle the vinegar solution into the jars, removing air bubbles and leaving 1/4" head space.  Put on lids and rings, and load into your now boiling water bath canner.  Make sure jars are covered with at least one inch of water.  When canner resumes boiling, process your pickles for 15 minutes.  Remove from the canner, and let cool for at least 12 hours before testing seals.

To develop proper flavor, your pickles should age at least two weeks before eating.

Today is going to be another pickle making day; I picked 52 more little cukes yesterday afternoon.

Cartwheels of Joy

So far, this has been a difficult year to get hay up.  The fields grew really well, and quite a few were actually ready to cut before Memorial Day.  Some fields did get cut, and baled, that weekend.  Not mine, since we have not spent the large amounts of money it takes to purchase haying equipment (tractor of large enough horse power, mower/cutter, rake/tedder and a baler, plus wagons.)  We are third on the list of the family that does custom cutting and baling in the area.

Their own field was done first, in late May.  Right after that, the weather was rainy.  Next swath of dry weather, they did their next door neighbors field.  Then the weather was uncooperative--not that it rained all the time, but there was enough rain in the forecast (most of which didn't actually show up)-- that about three weeks of June went by with no one but the cattle folks making hay.  Horse hay doesn't get cut unless there are three good dry weather days forecast in a row.

Waiting. . . hay getting riper by the day

Of course those three good dry weather days for my turn came along with a heat wave.  I got a call on a Thursday morning, while I happened to be riding The California Horse.  As soon as I was done riding, and saw that I had missed a call from my hay people, I listened to the message they had left. The voicemail that went something like this:  "The weather looks good, would you like us to cut your hay this morning?"

I immediately called them back, getting their voicemail.  I left a message that, paraphrased, said "I would do cartwheels of joy" if they could cut my hay that day.

When I got home from work at lunch time, a good portion of my hay field was cut, and their tractor and mower were going round and round shearing the rest.  By the time I'd finished my lunch, the entire field had been cut.  Hooray!  Now to wait two days for the hay to dry. . .

Hay finally cut!

Get ready to sweat!

Meanwhile, that heat wave rolled in.  While the media was crying "Heat index of 105 degrees!  Don't go outside!  Stay indoors with air conditioning, and if you don't have air conditioning, go somewhere that does!  Danger!  Danger!", DH and I were planning to put hay into our barn. Because hay doesn't wait.

stacks in the loft

(picture taken at first water break)

Despite advertising my hay for almost half the going rate out of the field, I had only one taker who wanted to come out of their air conditioning to load bales right off the wagon and take them home.  So, while the media was doom-and-glooming, we were doing what farmers have done for centuries:  making hay while the sun shone. DH & I put almost 350 bales of hay into the barn during a time when most people wouldn't even open the door on their air conditioned homes to step outside.

And honestly, it wasn't that terrible.  We took breaks, we drank lots of water, we wore the lightest weight clothing we could that would still protect our skin from the rough prickliness of the bales.  Cold showers at the end of the day were heavenly treats.

I did get called out on my voicemail message though.  Mr. Hay Cutter said he wanted to see those cartwheels I'd talked about.  Hoping for the best (since I haven't tried a cartwheel in quite a few years and was incapable to completing it the last time I'd tried one,) I chose a nice level looking spot in the hay field and went for it.  I was more afraid of busting a wrist than making a fool of myself, and I can't tell you how happy I felt when my second hand hit the ground and my arm didn't buckle.  It wasn't perfect form, but I did do an actual, complete cartwheel, landing with both feet together and no bobbling, just like a gymnast!  I may have been stinky and sweaty, with hay chaff stuck to every exposed piece of skin and a face red from the heat, but I felt beautiful in that moment.  (Thanks, California Horse, for the awesome core strength I've built in the past year riding you.)

However, next time I get a call asking if I'd like my hay mowed, I think I'll refrain from mentioning cartwheels.  I'll just stay I'd be very happy to have my hay cut.  :0)

Empty field, ready to grow again.

Yarn Along July

I am joining with Ginny for this month's Yarn Along. A day late, but better late than never, right?

This past month has been about socks. I finished sock #2 of the striped Vanilla Latte socks I was making for DD2.  She thinks they are gorgeous, and still has no clue that they are for her. (*snicker*)  I plan to give them to her before she heads back to college in August for her senior year.

As soon as the Vanilla Latte socks were finished, I went rummaging in my stash and found two complimentary yarns to make my next project--The Polka Dot Party Socks from issue 27, Bloom, of Taproot magazine.  These socks will be for me, since they will be my first color work socks and I'm a little unsure of my ability to make them not too tight but with floats that don't snag on toenails.  Since they are for me, I went with rather bold colors in my yarn choices.

The heel is one that I've only done once before, and honestly didn't like at the time.  I decided to give it another try as I am making these socks exactly as the pattern is written.  I have to say, I still don't like this heel technique.  I guess I'm a gusset heel kinda gal. To me the heel looks a little funky and I may end up ripping it out later and replacing with a different one.  But, for now, I'm soldiering on with the pattern which (other than the heel) is really fun.  This is definitely going to be a bold pair of socks.

Here Chickie, Chickie

After not raising any meat birds last year, and exhausting the supply I had in the freezer, DH and I decided it was time to raise some more.  I was a little concerned about being able to use the minimum order--25--with just two of us living at this little place here now (not counting DD2 being here this summer, because she will be gone back to college right about the time my broilers get butchered).  So, I polled my offspring, and they all said they would take at least three, leaving roughly a dozen for my own freezer, possibly less if the married offspring took 5+ each.

With that figured out, and having talked to my favorite chicken processor about his vacation schedule--being retired he takes an entire month off for travel every summer, I went ahead and ordered 25 broiler chicks.  While I was at it, I also ordered 6 pullet chicks (3 buff rocks and 3 of a blue egg laying breed) to boost my laying flock.  We've had a fox problem since May, and I'm down from ten hens to just four currently.  :0(

A little over a week ago, my chick order arrived.  Except, when I opened the box, instead of 30+ chicks, there were only 22!  The packing slip showed my entire order, plus the hatchery's typical extra "freebie" chick, and supposedly an extra broiler chick, totaling 33, yet when I took the chicks out one by one to put into the brooder, there were 11 missing. 

I had what I assumed was the freebie chick (see the striped one?) and 21 of my 25 broilers, but none of my laying breed pullet chicks.  No dead ones in the box, the other 11 were just plain missing.

I called the hatchery right away--well, about a half-hour later, had to wait for 9:00 a.m. business hours to start--and reported the odd situation.  In fifteen years of ordering chicks nearly every year from this hatchery, I'd never received a box that was missing chicks.  And only twice received a box containing any dead chicks (which sometimes happens due to shipping stress and/or rough handling of the container).

The hatchery representative was very nice, took my report, looked at my account, and offered to send out replacements for the missing chicks ASAP.  Plus enough extras ("They will have to be extra cockerels, no choice of breeds" she warned me) to make enough little bodies in the box so that the chicks stay warm enough en route this time of year .

The new chicks arrived five days later.  All of the 'missing' ones from the first order, plus more freebies. 

DD2 has taken it upon herself to name the ones she thinks will be roosters, despite the fact that they will more than likely end up in a soup pot this winter.  We currently have a Leonard, a Lionel, a Pierogi and a Stuart.  Leonard and Lionel appear to possibly be Easter Eggers, with puffy cheeks that look like they will turn into muffs and beards.  Pierogi is very obviously a Polish chick due to the pom-pom on his head.  Stuart (as in Stuart Little) is a true mystery so far. He's smaller than the other chicks, and we're not sure if he's a bantam--since we've never had bantams before, we're not sure how much smaller than 'normal' chicks they are--or if he is (more likely) a brown leghorn.  Time will tell.

Now there are 36 active little balls of fluff on skinny legs living in the brooder in our garage.  They will be there for about two more weeks before getting moved to the grow-out pen outside, and then 25 will go to freezer camp (aka the processor) in mid-August.  The rest are not meat breeds, so after they reach their full growth in several more months they will either be laying hens or roosters for the soup pot. 

But that's not the end of this story.  Nope.  Because DH just happened to be on a work trip for 10 days.  During this time, the chicks arrived.  Two days after their arrival, he texted to tell me that one of the guys he works with would like to get 10 of the broilers once they are butchered.  By my calculations, 3 for this offspring and 5 for that one and 5-10 for the one with a family and about 4 for the last offspring, plus 10 for the guy DH works with did not leave any for DH and I's own freezer.  That was a problem.

For every problem, there is a solution.

After many texts between me and DH (because he was, after all, on a work trip and coordinating phone calls across three time zones while working is difficult and spotty cell service makes phone calls nigh on impossible at times), DH and his work friend, and the work friend and some of his friends, a consensus was reached.  Would I be willing to order, and raise, and take to the processor another batch of 25 broilers? The work friend would pay all expenses and all 25 birds would be claimed; I wouldn't end up with way more birds in my freezer than I had room for.

After figuring when my brooder would be ready, when is the last date my favorite processor is willing to do birds in the fall, and what availability is with the hatchery, I went ahead and ordered that additional batch of broilers.  So, I will have chicks in my brooder from June 14 (when the original order arrived) through August 15 or so (when the next group is feathered out enough to live outdoors).  The grow out pen will be in use from early July through the end of September.  

Guess I'm a chicken farmer this summer.  I did manage to get a new poultry transport crate and a chicken catcher (4 foot rod with a narrow hook on one end) out of the deal.

Horse News

After a winter of feeling like I just never could get back up to speed in my riding program, only managing three rides a week at most (and sometimes only 1), near the end of April I began to notice a difference.  We'd turned a corner!  Something so subtle, and yet, so huge:  improved connection!

I'd spent a few weeks consciously trying to overcome a habit I had clung to despite not wanting to have that habit.  I knew that when I got busy thinking too much, or when I felt just a little unstable, my hands had a tendency to 'dive' as I call it--heading downward toward the withers, taking the bend out of my elbows and making me slightly shift my shoulders forward and down which also affected my core and by proxy my seat.  So, early in April, I decided that I must give up this habit.  That I needed, no matter what was going on, to keep my hands (and by association: elbows, shoulders, core strength, center of gravity, and seat) where they belong.

In keeping those hands correct (elbows bent and shoulders back, core stretching up, and seat where it belonged), I noticed that my wandering left hand, which tended to want to take the rein across the withers at times, stayed put.  It wasn't so vagabond.  And when my left hand wasn't wandering, wonder of wonders, I had a better and more consistent connection on the outside rein when tracking right.  This lack of connection had been a bugaboo for pretty much the whole time I've been riding The California Horse.  And guess what!  With a nice connection on that outside rein, our turns on the haunches became much tighter.  Like half-pirouettes at the walk.  Our lateral work became easier.  Corners became corners again, not cheater half-20 meter-circles on the short ends of the arena.  And The California Horse began to use his hindquarters more.  Oh hallelujah, connection and better impulsion!

With the second six months of our (extended) lease approaching its end, The California Horse's owner contacted me.  Was I still enjoying him?  Was I interesting in continuing to work with him?  Now that she's out of college and in the working world, she had come to the conclusion that she does not have time (or $$) for two horses and would like to talk to me about finding a more permanent situation for him.

Would I like to talk about his future?  Yes.  Did I have really any time to get together with her or idea of what my finances were at that moment, just a few weeks before DD1's wedding?  No.  Which is what I told his owner, asking if we could wait and discuss it after the wedding.  She agreed that it could wait until mid-May.  Our lease wasn't up until summer time anyway, so no big rush. I would keep riding him as often as I wished.

Then The California Horse got kicked. In the hind leg, above the hock.  It was ugly, so ugly.  But luckily, not damaging.  With cold hosing, daily cleaning and goopifying (aka, antibacterial ointment slathered on thickly), plus a little Bute for it's anti-inflammatory properties, it healed well and only a few days off our riding schedule were necessary.

Thankfully just a flesh wound,

 no stitches needed and no joint or tendon damage.

Then he managed to poke himself in the eye (with some hay, we think), and had a little more time off, an actual vet visit (for staining the eye to determine the extent of the damage), and more daily doctoring; this time in the form of eye ointment applied every morning and night.

Then, I had to take a break for DD1's wedding; anyone who has ever gotten married knows that the week leading up to wedding day is just hectic.  But right after the wedding weekend, I was ready to ride.

And . . . The California Horse had a giant welt the size of a softball on his belly.  An absolutely enormous bug bite (or perhaps bee sting?)  that extended into the girth area and canceled any plans I had to ride him until the swelling went down after a few days.

By that time, K2 had a mental health crisis resulting in hospitalization and I had the pretty much round the clock care of K3 and Toad for about two weeks.

All a long five weeks or so of very little riding for me this spring.  Really, I think I could count on one hand the number of times I got to ride during the month of May. I'd probably even have extra fingers left.

But never fear!  June arrived and brought with it much better luck for me, and better health for The California Horse (and improved state of mind for K2) so my riding schedule is back to normal.  While both of us lost some conditioning (you should hear us huff and puff at the trot), apparently we didn't slide backwards much in training, because all of our rides in June so far have been at least as good as our sessions in April.  I'd even dare to say the trot connection and impulsion has been better than it was in April (our trot sessions are shorter as we build our endurance back, but of better quality).  The California Horse is eager to work and seems to enjoy our rides together.  I feel like I'm making the jump to the next level in my riding; like I won't be stuck at barely First Level forever.

"Are you going to stand there taking pictures or put my bridle on me?

Come on, we've got work to do!"

I would love to have another six months to a year with this horse.  Right now, it feels to me like I am close to making a break into Second and with another year on The California Horse, I might actually be able to ride him to the extent of his Third Level training.  It's time to sit down with his owner and see what she has in mind for his future; if another lease extension is possible or if she is wanting to sell him outright. 

A lease, I can swing.  Not so sure about a purchase (especially with the on again off again care of the grandkids), it would really have to depend on the price.  Schoolmasters such as The California Horse are typically very salable even in their twenties (he's currently 18), but with his shivers and his enormous stature, I'm not sure how easy it would be to sell him in a few years if I were somehow able to purchase him this summer.  Because as in love with this horse as I am, he is aging and I'm not in the position now--nor do I see being able in 2-5 years--to carry a giant retiree who eats a ton and also requires shoes and special care (for his shivers).

Here's To Many More

Today is DH and my 25th wedding anniversary.  WOW!  25 years!!  Um, how did that happen?

Honestly, it was a decision we made, not just when we got engaged (a few days over 26 years ago now), not just when we got married at the tender ages of 21 & 23, but over and over, and over again, through the years. 

Getting married is easy.  Staying married, not always a piece of cake.  We've been apart a lot in the last 25 years.  Not in terms of separating from our marriage, but physical separations due to DH's job with it's regular travel requirements.  Those separations, while being challenging--talk about having to trust each other and stay true to our marriage vows--have also been strengthening.  While being a hardship mentally (and often physically too) when we didn't want to be away from each other, all those work trips sometimes gave each of us a needed break from each other.  They make DH appreciate me more (my good cooking, how I make sure he's up and fed in time to leave for work each day, how I manage all the finances and running of our household), and they let me, as he gets older and snores more, get a few good nights' sleep in!  LOL.

There have been times when we didn't see eye to eye.  Times when we seemed to be going in opposite directions, with opposite goals.  And, truthfully, one time when I'd had about all I could take, and actually told DH that if things didn't change, I was ready to see if the kids and I could move in with my parents. Now, sharing a house with my mom is something that I have never wanted to do as an adult.  It's something that I've avoided like the plague; one of the reasons, early in our marriage when we had three small children, a mountain of debt (doctor bills and student loan payments) and DH lost his job, that we worked so very hard to stay solvent, to make payment arrangements with our debtors, to not declare bankruptcy and to take whatever jobs we could find, just to keep a roof over our heads and food in our bellies until more gainful (and enjoyable) employment came along.  So, when I told DH that I was seriously thinking of moving myself and our three teenagers in with Mom, he knew our marriage had hit dire straits. 

We worked it out, though.  Wasn't easy, and we both had to give more than a little.  (And, I do still get rather annoyed with his job when it starts working him to death--for the good of the program he's been assigned--and by default I get the crap end of the deal--like a grouchy, rarely available husband).  We also have had to keep a sense of humor, especially in those "you can laugh, or you can cry" times.  Like when we sat down and talked through the logistics of a divorce, and he said "I will pay the mortgage payments so that you and the kids can stay living in our house until the youngest one is 18, but I don't make enough to pay a mortgage here plus rent a place for me." and I replied "well, I work in order to pay board on my horse, I can see if the barn owner will let me work more hours in exchange for you living in the apartment in the barn."  It was kind of a ridiculous thought; getting divorced and working to 'board' my ex-husband at the horse farm.  Especially since in a horse barn is the last place on earth that he'd want to live. Made us both laugh, and admit we had faults that needed working on, and realize that neither one of us really wanted to go through the rest of our lives without the other. 

But up until that discussion,  as much as he denied it, his work situation for the previous two years had turned him into a super critical and grumpy person who was mostly a negative presence when he was home.  And I, in return, had pulled away and was less willing to spend time with him when he wasn't working.  Rectifying the situation took a lot of conscious effort from both of us.  I had to trust and reach out.  He had to try to put on a happy face when he walked in the door after work, and bite his tongue--rather than bite my head off--about any not done housework he noticed, or dinner menu that wasn't his favorite.

We both still slip up and fall back into those roles from time to time.  He's really dedicated to his work, and that is acknowledged and reflected by the heavy load his boss puts on him.  He doesn't realize when he's becoming what I refer to as a "large and growly bear" at home because of overwhelming work pressure.  I'm not fond of housework (I'd much rather do outdoor cleaning than indoor), and when I'm really busy with stuff I do slack in the housekeeping department.  I also lose my motivation to clean when DH is hardly ever home and prickly when he is home.  Compound that with my introverted-ness, and what he comes home to after a mentally and emotionally strenuous day isn't a welcoming and relaxing home with a companionable wife.

Extra hours at work = less time to keep up with his chores at home = more work for me at home = he's stressed out + I'm stressed out = more arguing and less fun.  As long as we both keep that in mind, when it starts to happen, we can pull together as a team instead of letting the situation rip us apart, as it nearly did those years ago.  It's really important to stay on the same team.

In fact, that is pretty much the advice that I wrote on a slip of paper back in March at DD1's bridal shower, where one of the activities was for the guests to write advice and well wishes for the soon-to-be bride.  My advice was "Always remember you are on the same team.  No matter how tough life gets, remember marriage isn't DD1 Team versus Honorary Son team.  Marriage is the DD1 and Honorary Son Team."

A team pulls together, whether the score is in their favor, or the score looks like victory is unreachable. A good marriage is the same way.  Good times, tough times, husband and wife remain on the same team and pull together.

DH and I intend to keep pulling, keep together, for many more years.  Hopefully at least another twenty-five.

Yarn Along: June

It's time to join Ginny once again for the June edition of the Yarn Along.

I've not knit much in the past month.  Just one dishcloth featuring Michigan's Upper Peninsula (using a pattern from the booklet Knit the U.P. that I purchased while on a brief visit to DD2 in late April.)  and not quite one sock--I have a few more rows on the toe before grafting it closed--using the Vanilla Latte pattern I've made a few times before.  This time I am using Trekking XXL yarn that I purchased at the same shop where I bought the U.P. themed pattern booklet.

The dish cloth is for me, as I've had several of mine wear out and needed to make a few new ones to replenish my supply.  I do intend, however, to make another one for DD2 yet this summer so she can take it back to school with her in August.

The socks are (shh, it's a secret) for her.  When I saw the yarn I knew it would be socks for her; the colors are just perfect for DD2. They too will be done by August, barring any unforeseen complications that keep me from being able to knit the second sock in the next two months.

Reading-wise, it's been slow going.  May was a very busy month with DD1's wedding, the garden to plant, and again having the grandkids temporarily live with us.  The new issue of Taproot arrived, and I've thumbed through it, but not actually read any of it yet. (Spoiler, this issue contains a sock pattern!!)  As far as books go, I'm about one chapter into Emma Miller's newest Amish murder mystery Plain Confession.