Punkin Season

No, I am not in New York. I know everyone is in New York. Life has been so awfully real in the last few years that Rhinebeck hasn't been what it once was for me. In the very beginning, it was Meg and Gene in sweaters I had knit for them, Dan dragged along for the ride, and a few barns and a couple of tents of things I had never seen before. There were no crowds, no lines, and it was a small slice of heaven for me, really. I am at my core a simple person with simple values who prizes small and undiscovered above all. That was a long time ago, before books, weddings, and grandbabies. Maybe next year, or maybe not - it depends on when this next book launches, I think.

But it is still autumn in New England - my New England, the one I've known since I was a pup. The colors change, the tourists come and take a gander, and clog up route 91 with their craning necks and indecisive speeds. Should we go fast? Should we go slow? Or can we just not make up our minds?

This week I spent a fair amount of time just being "in" autumn, as I prefer to know it. Girl and I went for apples in a local hill town, and made a splendid apple butter. I bought sweet pie pumpkins. I shredded and pounded ten pounds of cabbage into the Harsch for future sauerkraut. Tonight I chopped up an apple, added some extras, and stuffed a pumpkin. I am calling it dessert. Want to see?

Now, want to know what's in it? Ok, I'll tell you.

First, cut the top off of a tiny sweet pumpkin or two, and hull it/them with their tops. Then combine the following in a small bowl:

1 tart apple, cored and chopped
2T brown raisins
1 quite small sweet potato, peeled and chopped (about a half a cup when all's said and done)
2T brown sugar
1/4 cup apple butter (substitute 1/4 cup of applesauce plus a bit each of cardamon, cinnamon, clove and allspice)
2T butter cut into small pieces

Oil the outside of the pumpkin, including the top, with your choice of high-temperature oil (I chose peanut). Fill with the apple mixture, packing a bit as you go. Leftovers here went into a buttered custard cup to cook, but you can do what you will with them, if there are any. Place the top on the oiled, filled fruit and roast in a 375 degree oven for about an hour, or until the side of the pumpkin is easily pierced with a fork. Remove from the oven and allow to cool a bit - so it is still warm, but not too hot for what comes next!

Scoop some of the pumpkin stuffing and a bit of pumpkin meat into a dessert bowl. Top with rich, creamy premium vanilla ice cream. EAT ALL OF IT!

Happy Harvest, and may God smile on you as much as He's smiling on me!

It Starts So Simply

Take Mr. W, for example. The man just wanted a nap. He come home from a hard day at the salt mines (nuclear plant, same thing) and just wants a little rest.

The boys miss their Daddy when he's gone all day, so they hop up for a snuggle. It's all sweet and happy and innocent.

But then it starts to change.

And before you know it there's a totally out-of-control melee in the middle of the bed, and poor Mr. W's nap has turned into a fit of grins and giggles as the boys completely lose it.

A free for all. All we really needed was the cat to make it complete, but he seemed to want nothing to do with the insanity.

Before you know it, they've worn themselves out, and it's back to normal - cuddle bug Bradley and aloof cat-like Yoshi on alert at the foot of the bed, watching out the window for squirrels and birds - lest they disturb daddy's peace and quiet, perhaps?

It's been that way with the kitchen project, too. 

One small thing starts off an avalanche of changes; some good, some bad, and all happening regardless of whatever brilliant plans we might have had in the beginning. And that's okay by me. God has a plan. I probably should have fewer, since His seem to work out better than mine. 

We've been here before, and it will all work out, and in the end it will be amazing. In fact, it's looking like it's going to be even MORE amazing than we'd anticipated! See, yet another reason why I should just stop making all these grand plans! I will miss these guys, my knotty pine pets. But it will be worth it in the end - you'll see!

I've been knitting a bit in my spare moments - those moments not consumed with kitchen design and swimming and dogs and planning my next book (What?!? Another book? Yes! Another book, but not for a year and a half, so no point in getting too excited just now!). A while ago we had an announcement of a most delightful nature presented to us in the most enjoyable way. In a kitchen full of people I love, just hanging out together and enjoying each other's company, I was handed an envelope and asked to open it and - if I could find the time - maybe make "some things" for the folks who handed me the envelope. "We don't need them right away - but in a few months..." they said. 

Can you guess what it might be, other than "stuff on my cat"? I'll give you a hint. The item on that cat is made from this pattern. (I used Northampton Bulky, if you're curious - one of my favorites, lots of good colors for this project, and snuggly warm to boot) And when I am done with this little project, I need to knit one of these - or maybe two, in case one gets lost? As Kathy pointed out, lost things of this nature can be catastrophic if there's attachment. So two of those, don't you agree? But identical to one another, just in case.

Today I got a special box from Meyer Hatchery. Seven little boys, all soft and fat and warm.

 

(browninsh Buff Brahmas, yellow Delawares and one big question mark in back)

Loud little peeping poop machines, really, but they are lovely to behold when tiny and wee. One is a bit of a non-performer and I don't think he will last the day. But that's par for the course, and I am not deterred. By fall I will be able to add roosters to my flock, and that makes me VERY happy!

I am so excited about the future and about life right now; watching things unfold and grow and happen around us and in front of us and to us. It's a pretty wonderful world, really! 

Oh, Bother

Most people who get a whole batch of hens by accident are happy. Not me!

When I ordered the layers this year I wanted some boys. I didn't want more than 15 hens going into winter. I don't want to feed them, and I don't have an egg market without a 40 minute drive, and I don't want to commit to driving 40 minutes once a week. I love my old customers, but the cost of gas and time just didn't level out against the number of eggs I could sell and the cost of grain. I needed to either get bigger, or get smaller. I choose smaller. But now here I am, and here's what I've got...girls. Lots and lots of girls.

I ordered 25 birds, straight run (which means boys and girls mixed), from Meyer Hatchery. I planned to keep one or two full sized roosters. I like having roosters around - they keep the hens happy and they provide valuable defense.  I ordered their "rare breed" assortment. When the birds started to grow I was a little surprised to discover that they considered Easter Eggers to be "rare". In fact, a closer look at their "rare" list indicates that I got, well, taken frankly. A lot of the birds on their "rare" list aren't particularly rare, and of course I got mostly common birds that I could get anywhere. But that's my fault - I didn't really read closely when I ordered.

What I did very closely note was the gender of the birds I ordered. I do know that I ordered straight run, and that straight run generally means about half roosters. But...unless something changes VERY soon it looks like I have maybe 3 roosters. How do I know? Two of the birds are crowing - a White Crested Black Polish, and this Buttercup - which is a horrible breed for New England's harsh winters with their eventually big floppy cup-shaped comb, so he's got to go. That's his "wife" behind him for comparison. By 16 weeks, there should be some clear differences between the boys and the girls, as you can see.

Not a peep from anyone else. One white bird, all snowy white with a big tall tail that appears to be a Leghorn (rare? White Leghorns? Really??) occasionally stretches it's head up like it's considering a crow, but it doesn't make a peep. Saddle feathers? None. Big red combs? Nada. Cape? Sickle tail? Color differences? Zip and zilch and nuttin'.

This messes me up. It messes with my plan. It damages my program. I am less than amused. Even if I could get some boys at this late date, I have to grow them out - which means I have to feed them AND all these blessed hens! I could cull - and probably will - all of the cute, charming, pretty birds, which is exactly what I did not want to do. I wanted some color. Now I will have to choose between the cuties and the actual producers - and faced with that choice, the farmer that lives in my brain kicks in and screams "KILL THE USELESS ONES!". I could re-home them - but having spent all that time, effort and MONEY rearing them, I at least want dinner out of the deal!

So, a hard lesson learned. Although we have had decent luck with Meyer until now, unless they can find a way to make me feel better about this, I'll have to find a new place to shop for baby birds come spring. Someone with Buff Brahams and Delwares, since apparently I have a TON of them - all girls! Most disappointing - I have recommended Meyer to a lot of people, and now I need to eat my words. Between the big losses of the meat birds, and this gender debacle, I can't recommend them now.

In other news, we've been working hard on our DIY kitchen makeover. The decision to paint all of the knotty pine cabinets was made rather abruptly one evening. Within a day or so I had convinced Gene, and forward we went with the project.

A lot of those young whippersnapper bloggers seem to think this is a "weekend project" Well, more power to them. Me, I am an old DIY-er from way back. I know that preparation is critical. I know that every extra minute spent sanding will reward me ten fold when the project is done. I know that every fume I inhale from a couple of coats of creepy chemical primer is well worth it.

And so I take my time, as much as I can. The hardest thing so far was covering up this guy or girl. I think girl. Vixen, I think, really.

 At first I actually outlined her with primer, giving her ears and a pointy nose. But in the end I did the grown up thing and primed right over her beautiful face. I'll always have the picture, right?

And last? MEET BRADLEY!

I don't think I introduced him here, although Yoshi mentioned him a while back.

Bradley is a 5 year old Golden Retriever, and we are thoroughly smitten - even Yoshi. He likes this brother. They get into trouble together, and raise all sorts of Cain. Observe:

They rough house just like normal dogs, and they eat raw food. Bradley came to us on a raw diet, and Yoshi decided it was only fair if he converted to raw so Bradley would not be disrupted.

Chicken, duck, beef, lamb and vegetables, with some eggs and yogurt now and then - they love it all.

And I love all of them. I am not sure what we were doing before Bradley came to us, but it wasn't as cool as this is!

Sweet Summertime

Here's the bullet - this summer really is a lovely one.

It's hot, which stinks. It rained a lot, and now there are a lot of mosquitoes, which also stinks. But here's the good news...

We have this amazing blessed life. We are really so blessed. Right now, in this moment, we are alive. We are here with the people we love. That is so huge. Doesn't get any better. Plus - 

The garden here grows like weeds. 

In fact, just about everything we drop in the ground just gets up and running, flowering and growing, with very little attention from me. I love that.

Meat grows well here, too, if a little more slowly than the last batch of Cornish Crosses. Freedom Rangers rock - they don't drop like flies in the heat, and they go outside on purpose to play. Today they are hovering near their fan, but occasionally a few will venture out into the heat in their fancy new yard. They are sucking down water like it's nothing. I'd get them an AC, but that seems extreme for food.

Third, batik scraps make excellent clothing. I also made a seersucker dress using the same pattern (Simplicity 2373, minus bias tape trim, which I got for a buck recently). It is too hot for clothing to touch my skin - unless it's light and cotton! 

Fourth, this is SALAD SEASON!  I’ve been trying some new-to-me salads out this week – perfect timing. I make a lot of modifications to recipes I find on the internet, or I create things all on my very own. Anything to avoid heating up my kitchen.

There’s a Chickpea Salad that I created out of my very own head after tasting something sort of similar when my father was in the hospital. I like mine better, of course. Recipe at the bottom of the post.

Then this Shredded Brussels Sprouts Salad – you may note that there is bacon in this, on the blog of the woman who says she does not eat pork? Well, I am not the only person who lives in this house, and some other residents like bacon. This is locally raised bacon from Wells Tavern Farm. It comes pretty dear, but their pork is the only pork I will allow in the house. I left out the kale on this one and went with just sprouts, which I happened to get a deal on. 

This is a new one for me - a lovely Lemon Green Bean and feta salad – delicious! I left out the agave, and used oregano from outside my front door.

And this Quinoa Salad with Apricots and (NOT) Pistachios? Love it. But with pepitas, not pistachios. And I was out of mirin, so I used pomegranate molasses. And I left out the mint and the paprika.

Fifth, I was all ready to head out on an airplane to fetch home a tiny baby BooBoo (a girl BooBoo I thought), but then God (you can call it what you want, for me it's God) stepped in and handed us Bradley.

And Bradley is amazing. He's clever, obedient, loving, and about as loyal as... well... as loyal as Yoshi. If you have food, you are his best friend. If you have head rubs, you are his best friend. If you have a frisbee, a ball, or a swimming pool? You are TOTALLY his best friend! But he's all dog, like a dog should be. Head on your knee, soaking wet and muddy paws all over my car, chasing the cotton-tailed bunny around the chicken house three times before you can catch him DOG. And we adore him. At six o'clock this morning my bedroom erupted in bedlam - the joyful sound of two dogs playing riotously. There they were - the snotty, spoiled Shiba and the down and dirty All-American Golden Retriever - bowing, jumping, leaping as if they'd been brothers forever. He's the yin to the yang. Or the yang to the yin. Either way, he's the balance point.

He is not a dog I would have chosen. I said that to my vet. I generally avoid adult dogs as re-home/rescue prospects. They can come with so many issues. Bradley either has no issues, or he has issues that so totally fit in our family that they just blend in with all of our issues and make one big happy issue. I also never choose widely and easily available breeds. I also avoid any breed that has ever starred in a movie. Yup. Now you know. I am a total dog snob. Mongrels can be awesome, and if the right one came along we'd be buds for life. But in lieu of the perfect mutt, I choose purebreds, and I choose them carefully. I usually do a ton of research, match personalities against our own and against any dogs we have in the home, and make a choice that benefits everyone. Because I am, as we all know, TOTALLY in charge of the WHOLE WORLD, and this is THE most effective way to exert my all-knowing POWER over...

Oh, sorry. Where was I? Oh yeah. So. It turns out that my "all-knowing amazing" skill at dog selection? It wasn't necessary. Because God gave us Bradley. I was looking in the wrong direction.

Truth is, I do not have the time or energy or mental fortitude to handle a puppy right now. At least not the way I do puppy - have you seen my dog's blog? Puppy here is a total focus, 24/7/365, lifestyle thing. It lasts for about 12 months or more depending on the dog - in the case of a big dog, it's usually more. I would have thrown myself in, and done it, too. But it wasn't what we needed right now.

My vet said I got very, very lucky. My vet said "He's amazing". My vet said "It's not about who they are on the outside. It's about who they are on the inside." My vet is smarter than I am. 

Thank God for grace and gut. I knew the minute I saw him, spinning in circles in the front yard of his former home, with Yoshi obnoxiously growling and snapping under him, that he was ours. I went with that gut feeling, and we agreed to a sleepover to see how things went. Twelve hours later I wouldn't have let him go back for anything. Two weeks in, and he and Yoshi are raising hell around my bed at six in the morning - roughhousing, playing, living - and all I can think is "What did we do before Bradley came here?"

Look around you, take a long deep breath and breathe it all in. It's summer. It won't last forever, and it doesn't have to. Tomorrow can take care of itself. Be in the now, because that's where it's at my friends. Now is where it's at.

MMO's Summer Chickpea Salad

1 big (29 oz) can of chickpeas (or 4 cups rehydrated, cooked chickpeas)

1 bunch scallion, chopped fine

1 red pepper, chopped fine

½ cup dried cranberries

----------

¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons red wine vinegar

2 teaspoons cumin

1 tablespoon parsley

Kosher salt

Fresh ground pepper

Combine last 6 ingredients in large bowl. You can be fussy and start with the acid and spices and then add the oil slowly, whisking to emulsify, or you can just dump and mix. I've done both and it tasted the same either way! Add drained and rinsed or cooled and rinsed beans, scallions, red pepper and cranberries. Mix well and eat - although it's better a few hours later! 

Baffling!

Does the squirrel baffle work?

Yes it DOES work! 

Climbing up....

"Uh... seems very dark in here..."

Back down he came, and away he went, one baffled maurader! I WIN!

I also let the layer babies out today for the first time into the chicken yard. There was also some baffling going on here, but they adapted brilliantly. As soon as the rooster makes his warning sound, they bolt back into the chicken house wihch is exactly what they need to do to stay safe - and alive. We do have airborne predators, and while a red tail might not be big enough to carry off a full sized laying hen, a baby is a whole other thing.

 Hesitant but curious...

 Baby steps!

 Free for all!!

 One lovely Buckeye boy

 More babies out and about

 Dust bath for Pet and company

 "BUG! I found a BUG!"

 Gratuitous Chick Shot

 Stretching his wings after days of confinement with the babies - who can blame him?

I love my birds! 

We've thrown in some branches, grass clippings, and a few other items. Some are for mental stimulation. Some are for safety. In a pinch, the babies can hide under the things propped against the chicken house if they can't make it inside. We once had a bunch of birds save themselves by cowering under a lilac bush in our yard. Because these guys are not free rangers yet - or maybe ever if Mr. W has his way - the don't have the luxury of shrubs. Actually. There are not any shrubs here for them to hide in. I doubt they'd all fit in the pine tree. So until all my my new plantings grow taller and more broad, maybe inside is the safest place for the birds to be.

(check out the disastrous "rose garden" I inherited with this house and STILL cannot decide what to do with)

Hope you had a memorable Memorial Day - without any snow!!