Wicked Rural Homestead
Live Simply
Our new Lawnmowers
This past week has been beyond exciting for a number of reasons. The new restaurant was a completely unexpected surprise, one we never saw coming. Something we had dreamed about.
This week marked the homecoming of another dream; two more members of the family. These were expected and had been planned for months, yesterday we finally got to bring them home.
Introducing Rusty and Lulu! Our new lawnmowers.
The Dream & The Wait
We will start with the dream, because that came first (5 years ago and a lifetime before that.) During that time of trial that followed, Em and I put it out to the universe- we want our own place. An opportunity to showcase all we have done throughout the years. A place to bring people together and support our family/community.
We came to the East with this dream and worked tirelessly towards it, always hoping this would happen but being aware that you can’t force things to occur.
This week it actually happened. It is funny how life works out sometimes. I walked into the bank about a week ago to get checks cut. At that time, the teller was having troubles with the printer and said it would take a few minutes. She pointed me to the waiting area where there was a newspaper.
I picked up the newspaper (one I have never actually read before) and opened it to my surprise the first thing I saw was this opportunity at Province Lake about 5 miles from our house.
I Can’t Say They Didn’t Warn Me.
One might think that someone who cooks for a living would be a kitchen gadget nut but I am not. In my humble opinion there are only a few things you NEED in a kitchen. Most of them are sharp knifes 🙂
While shopping the other day I decided to splurge and buy what I thought was a spatula. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that this was apparently a specialized spatula or “Pancake Turner.”
Ok, whatever. Right?
Death and Facebook
Unlike Myspace; I think it is safe to say that Facebook isn’t going anywhere. The advent of this previously unprecedented way to stay in touch has made a huge impact on many parts of our society, for better or worse.
When I started my account I did so for my dad. My partner and I were about to embark on our trip cross country and it seemed to be a good way to stay in touch and share our experiences with people back home. By posting pictures from the day’s adventures my dad could be reassured that I was indeed alive- without nightly phone calls. Even better than that, he could see what we were up to.
For the last four years of his life we communicated almost daily through pictures and captions. We tagged each other in pictures and had heated debates over who’s puppy was cutest. It was a way to be involved from thousands of miles away. Sometimes it made me ache to see all that I was missing but all in all, it offered an avenue for us to still be a daily part of each others’ lives.
When my dad passed his Facebook profile took on a whole new meaning. The day before he died he posted:
“I guess I am thankful for the things to come”-DG, Nov. 28th
Spring A-Bread, Flour Back. Easter Bread.
After enjoying the new super moon/eclipse/equinox/Ostara day last Friday AND our tasty little chicken I thought it was time for some less gruesome kitchen activities.
I love bread. I think Dr. Atkins might be the devil incarnate but I have to admit when I follow his advice my butt shrinks. Anyway…
Bread.
I LOVE BREAD. I know many people think bread is “difficult to make.” Have no fear; each year there are only 3 deaths worldwide due to improper bread making attempts and most of those are in Slovenia; so statistically the risk is low on this continent. I’m sure bread machines are a big time saver but I highly recommend at least trying free form bread.
BAD DOG!!! “No Soup For YOU!”
Well, I went and jinxed it.
After a few posts about how well behaved Isis has been and posting a survival skills article that included “knowing how to dress and butcher an animal.” I have to admit; I was kind of asking for it.
Like the raptors from Jurassic Park Isis has been systematically testing her fence for weaknesses all winter and last week she found one. Motivated by the sight of the boys and me in the woods- just out of reach she squeezed though the space between the post and the house and was FREE!
Fifteen minutes later and A LOT of running later we got her back, happy as can be. The humans were not pleased.
The paternal unit fixed the fence and we got on with life.
Until…
A few days later she got out again. This time she just jumped the fence. The snow was her accomplice, since its volume rendered a five foot fence less than three feet tall. That would not have been so bad but I have been leaving the chicken coop door open so they can get some fresh air.
Suspended Spring
Snow turns to rain but winter is unwilling to let its prisoners go,
the bitting cold guilds the land.
A new day shines forth.
Morning sun hugs new-grown shoots and buds in silver light.
The Amazing Adventure Of The Underwear Wizard.
On our drive home, the boys and I started talking about a character the Little One invented during the week we were snowed in, the Underwear Wizard. Things got out of hand (as all good stories do) and the next thing I knew; we were typing and illustrating a tale called The Amazing Adventure Of The Underwear Wizard and His Crazy Monkey Scientist Buddy.
They each illustrated their own copy; the youngest on the left and oldest on the right.
Here goes nothing…
Not so long ago, in a laundry room not so far away there lived a magical being not many people have never seen the- Underwear Wizard. He lives in a castle on top of Mt. Laundry.
He is a funny being full of laughter and joy. His love of underwear of all types is unmatched. He derives his magical powers from the underwear he has on his body at any time. He always has layers and layers to spare.
He shares the laundry corner with a mad pigmee-monkey scientist.
After being trapped by the Sock goblin he succeeded in escaping his prison but was left with a few issues. The potion he used to escape the evil villain had some unexpected side effects.
It made him small enough to fit through the bars of the cell but it permanently shrunk his ability to act normally or care what anyone thinks about him.
The Underwear Wizard and his unstable buddy have to live with an evil being of epic proportions. The always feared and ridiculously smelly… (dun dun dunnnnnn)
Sock Goblin!!!!!!!
I Am A Fool…
And that’s ok with me.
In our modern age, “being a fool” carries a decidedly negative connotation. We place high value on planning, goals, specific culturally defined aspirations and conformity to the norms.
In tarot, The Fool is the first card of the major arcana and represents the antithesis of modern structure and goals. He is blithe and impulsive. Deifying logical explination and purposefully going against the grain. Most of the time these actions are meant to remind us that our advanced systems and societal constructions are at times absolutely absurd or completely wrong.
In ‘the olden days’ the fool or jester was one who could make fun of even the most powerful person in the land. To bluntly state the contradictions, imperfections and dysfunctions of the king in such a way that even the high ruler could laugh at himself. Walking that line was a true gift. Court jesters that performed these tasks poorly, usually lost their heads.
This task could not be done without intelligence and the ability to state the simplest of facts; that we do not know everything. We never have.
The traditional tarot image of The Fool shows a jester on the verge of stepping off a cliff. With a dancing dog at his feet and his head raised to the sky he is completely unaware that his next step may mean disaster and death.
The Fool does not care. He is quite happy in his precarious state. Enjoying the moment and not worrying about what is next.
IT’S MELTING!
Today, I reveled in the sound of snow melt running off our roof through the open window.
Three weeks ago I declared winter to be over and this afternoon I believed it. I even saw ground on the side of the road.
GROUND!
Ground that had been uncovered by natural forces rather than mechanical means. It is amazing to think that spring might actually be happening. We stated some of our seeds indoors last week and it is quite possible that we are completely jumping the gun. At this point, we just don’t care.
Three boys need at least 18×15 foot tarp for any indoor activity that requires dirt. Trust me; it’s just better that way.
Even the chickens are noticing days growing longer. They have started laying accordingly and we are now getting 8-12 eggs a day. They are even getting some time outside as it isn’t below freezing.
Since the new flock is staring to lay we are getting all sorts of colors and combinations.
Ode To Honey.
After a family trip to the vet, I was overwhelmed by two polarizing emotions. The first was payment shock at the almost five hundred dollar bill. This outrage was tempered by the knowledge that it was all the shots our four domestics should need this year (fingers crossed!)
The second feeling was pride; everyone passed with rave reviews.
Not a flee in the bunch. Teeth all healthy, ears clean, coats shinny and everyone well behaved.
I was also grateful for the ability to bring all three dogs and our feline overlord in at the same time. Our vet was very surprised that the cat could easily be examined in the same room with the dogs.
I was elated to get a clean bill of health for our matriarch. Honey is somewhere around 15 years old. This is a ball park estimate since her age at the time my husband adopted her was uncertain. She has been such a blessing in our lives and rather than singing her praises after she is gone (an inevitability I don’t like to think about) I wanted to take some time to truly appreciate her and all that we have shared as a family.
She has lived a pretty amazing life for a dog. Scratch that. She has lead an amazing life for an earthly being.
Her relationship with me started with a fair bit of drama. When the boys were moved across the country, she was left with a neighbor. Even though we quickly recovered her it did nothing for her already tentative trust in humans. At the time we lived on a boat with the little dog, Pele and had to scramble for other accommodations. Two dogs on a 30 foot boat is no good.
It was cozy.
We relocated to the redwoods.
This little Piggy…
This little piggy went to the market. This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy rigged a jail break and got everyone out.
Strange Surprises from Market Basket
I am always surprised at the verity of the Market Basket super store in Biddeford. Mind you; this is a little city off Hwy 95, south of Portland in Maine. Today without any effort at all, I found:
Honestly, it is not so much the presents of pork intestines but 10lbs at a time?! NOW THAT’S A PARTY! More importantly its only $10 and good for a whole year…
Life’s A Trip, Enjoy The Fall.
This April will mark five (oh my god!) years since we packed up the truck and headed the wrong way across the country. After half a decade of winters I can promise you that people headed west for more than the chance to strike it rich. More like the chance to feel their extremities during the year.
We willingly gave up established and well connected careers to move to a land where we knew no one and had nothing. Even after we arrived and thankfully- found work we were still homeless for three months. With two dogs and twice weekly visits from two kids. Living out of hotels and vacation rentals.
All of this so my partner would have a chance to be the parent he wanted to be. To demonstrate to his kids what it means to be a dad.
All we were trying to do was be a ‘normal’ family; no matter what. Our sole focus was (and is) the boys. They are the measure of all things, the compass that directs our path. More often than not- through country that seems impassable.
They light the way.
There have been many times when we have been at our wit’s end. Out of resources and options, with nowhere to go but forward. Through an unsure future that seems determined to bite and rend apart all we have managed to scrape together.
We have been blessed, though.
Maybe the best example is from our time in Hampton Beach. The first time I was going to meet the boys on this side of the country. By this time, we had been here more than a month and their weekly visits with daddy had become routine for them. I think my diary entry of the day says it best:
A Murder Mystery, Most Fowl.
Living close to the land reminds you constantly that death is a daily part of life. The best example of this has been our experiences with the flock(s.)
Our first young flock was decimated by a family of raccoons; two springs ago.
One night 17 dead chickens. There were only three survivors.
It was our fault of course, we overlooked an obvious entrance point right above the door under the over hanging roof and our little pullets paid the price.
Winter Is Over!…?
It may not look like it but I am declaring today to be the last day of winter!
I know, I know, it really doesn’t look like winter is done but trust me; it’s on the way out! Today we saw a liquid substance on the road, I am calling it “molten snow;” though I am sure it is more commonly known by a different word I can’t remember at the moment.
WATER! It’s called water. In the summer we will use this ‘water’ to support small vessels and propel them across the surface of the lakes.
Snow Anyone?
This should give you some clue about the amount of snow we have. The husky can almost climb the drift to the roof…
No Candy, No Cards, No Diamonds; No Problem.
For Valentine’s Day we got- another blizzard.
Shocking, I know but great for snow forts!
I have already posted my feelings about today’s holiday and they have not changed one bit. In fact, I am ever more convinced with each passing year that romance is overrated. It seems most often a private expectation of the type love people think they should receive from another and I think true love should be free of such needless expectation or pressure.
For the second year in a row we have the boys here for the holiday and the next week too. We will pass the day, snowed in with three dogs, one PISSED OFF cat, and two amazing little men.
This year was not completely gift free at our home, I got all the men-children new socks. I decided socks are like foot hugs, that last all day.
I’m guessing that being snowed in with animals and kids is not most people’s idea of the perfect Valentine’s Day but for me there isn’t a single thing I would add to the equation.
I might subtract the freezing cold blizzard but you know what? Being stuck inside with this bunch is endless entertainment. The boys yell at the TV like I do and we have no shortage of crafts and projects to keep us entertained.
The littlest monster decided yesterday that he is the “Underwear Wizard.” For those of you who are unfamiliar with this particular mythical creature- it involves a felted wizard hat and every pair of boxers he could find, worn on various parts of the body in ever changing configurations.
♥ Read Mine ♥
This is from last year I think it’s still true, most of it anyway.
“Well, There’s Your Problem…”
Yep, we have reached the point in the winter when the parking lot snow is over the top of the trucks, rack and all.
Every other row of parking spots turn into ski slopes.
And everyone is running out of places to put new snow.
Driving up North yesterday I found someone with more problems than the parking lot’s. I think the pictures say it all.
Pysanky 2015-The Pysankydome.
IT’S SNOWING! Still. The greenhouses are almost gone and every couple hours there is a new drift knocking on our door.
Adding to the fun it has been bitterly cold. Any plans I have had to do something fun outside are reconsidered after the ten minutes it takes to feed and water the chickens.
Even though the chickens are not producing many eggs at the moment, they are still laying more than the two of us want to eat a day. The egg surplus got a bit ridicules and the last few days I have been Pysankying (not a real word) my brains out.
I discovered the joy of Pysanky last year and it has been fun to have the excuse and free time to get back into it. I have learned a lot since I started, mostly about what not to do.
I got stuck in a pattern rut after finding this easy pine cone design online.
I have started trying a few new things, like dying the egg black to start. This allows me to have black outlines instead of light outlines.
I like the contrast that starting with a dark outline give you but I tried it with blue
and green outlines too.
I was inspired by the sunset through the trees out our front door
and wanted to do some sunset shadow eggs.
I didn’t like the way the first one came out after I melted with black wax off it. Too blurry. Then I remembered they were my eggs and I don’t HAVE to melt the wax off. I quite prefer the bumpy ones.
I gave them roots below the mountains, I liked the way they turned out.
Since I can’t seem to stop drawing trees, moons and mountains; I just went with it.
I added a beach side to the winter tree, just to remind myself of summer on these cold days.
Last but not least; I used one of the beautiful specked eggs to make a moon and constellation egg.
I put the Big Dipper on one side because it remind me of home.
and the constellation Orion on either side because it always seems to come with me wherever I go.
Moon rockets are fun.
All in all, it has been meditative to sit quietly as the snow falls around us and layer wax over dye by the light of a candle. There is something timeless about it that I truly enjoy. Plus when you are done you have enough egg to make a huge omelet and pretty little works de art.
It’s better than yelling at the T.V.
“Lord, Deliver Us from Commercials.”
Our greenhouses are in the process of being swallowed by snow.
Most of the surrounding area is under hip deep drifts, we have been snowed-in for the better part of a month but I am at my wits end with the commercials that interrupt our regularly scheduled winter programming.
We don’t have cable. We gave it up years ago when the monthly task of paying a hundred dollar entrainment bill started to make me nauseous.
Overall, I like the selection and control of Nextflix/Hulu and I don’t mind that we have no ties to the ‘current’ shows BUT the commercials get to me. Even though there are only a couple ads per break they are often the same ones over and over…
There is one cellular ad that is driving me batty this week and I find again that I am talking back to the stupid box.
For the record I know it can’t hear me but I just can’t help myself.
Maybe you have seen it- two men running through the woods being chased by a wild boar. They are trying to look-up what to do about their current predicament and due to the AMAZING cell service provided by the company they get the answer they need.
Wisdom From The Lakota.
My sister and I were raised by a pack of rabid surfers and hippies. When we were very young our Godfather, Todd discovered the world of Ishi-The Last Yahi.
Todd was already one of the most accomplished outdoorsman you will every meet. For instance; look what he can get with a snorkel and sling spear- breakfast, lunch AND dinner.
The new focus on native practices brought many amazing new skills and missions to the weekly itinerary. Todd taught himself to flake arrowheads, scrapers and blades. We would search and collect the correct materials to carve bows and fletch arrows the way it has been done for thousands of years. The rest of us leanrned too and reaped the benefits of this ancient knowledge.
We were raised with the strict belief that nature was the source of all things. We were ingrained with simple mandate to observe, learn and follow the natural way whenever possible.
This focus on outside living and respect for the bounty of the Earth has been the most important tenant in my life and I am lucky to have found a partner who shares these views.
A little while ago I came across these excerpts taken from the writing of the Lakota Chiefs that have been circulating around the net. I felt a instant connection to the sentiments. There is a lot about our modern societal tendencies and ‘manners’ that bother the hell out of me and I thought that these tenets pinpointed my issues completely:
Creepy Lobster Trap Valentine Tree Anyone?
I wanted to check out what the storm systems had done to the coast so I drove down to Cape Neddick near where we used to live in Kennebunk. As I headed out to the lighthouse I was greeted by this cool lobster trap Christmas tree. Now adorned with some pretty creepy Valentine’s teddies.
It looks like some sort of Care Bear torture system to me.
Here are some closeups. What do you think?
The sea spray whipped by the winter wind, froze onto the rocks in the most peculiar way.
Up close they are something else.
There is a narrow channel that separates the little island with the lighthouse from the mainland. The rocks out in the breakwater looked like frosted oatmeal cookies.
The lines that bring the little outpost power were caked with almost a foot of ice.
Again, pretty cool.
It was as cold as it looked so it didn’t take long for me to be back in the car.
It might be cold but it is beautiful.
Snowed-in Cauliflower
Over the past few weeks our area has received over 70 inches of the white stuff, with more on the way next week. Consequently we have spent A LOT of time indoors, unable to leave the house.
We have taken turns doing the shopping- depending on whose schedule takes them closer to a food dispensary.
The results have been mixed, as we differ on the definition of our “staple foods.”
For instance; last time I shopped I went heavy on the vegetables. My husband will only acknowledge salad, carrots and green beans as possible dinner veg so I went a little nuts in the produce section. When my dear husband opened the refrigerator to inspect my supply run he actually shouted in surprise and slammed the door exclaiming “AHHHH! Vegetables!”
Yes, they now out number the pizza supply in the fridge. Will balance ever be restored?!
I know I will not be getting his help eating most of the winter vegetable offerings so I am free to prepare them any way I like.
I Lied. The Digging-Out Is The Hardest Part.
It is another sunny day! Only now the ground is under a couple more feet of snow.
The wind was INTENSE as promised but overall it was far from Armageddon. Our power only flickered once and aside from Luna acting more homicidal than normal; all is well here on the homestead.
I can say that now because my amazing husband has freed the cars and reconnected us with the outside world.
The drifts are something else and while some places only got a few inches we have dunes that are almost four feet other spots on the property.
The chicken coops both made it with no damage and very little snow inside but plenty of chickens. Just the way it should be.
The guinea fowl/chicken flock passed the storm in the A frame coop.
The door was on the right side so the wind didn’t make a mondo-drift in front of it.
The back side was a different story.
Getting water to them this morning I had to go through drifts that were almost to my hips.
“The W a i t i n g Is The Hardest Part”
It is such a beautiful day today, it’s hard to believe that tomorrow we will be in the middle of THE BLIZZARD OF 2015.
“DUH-DUNT-DUH-DUNT”
Right now, outside it looks like this.
The Mysterious Case Of The Squirrel Bunny
Fresh snow is a wonderful opportunity to see what is going on in the woods that surround us. We all love to go walking around the woods; following animal trails and trying to figure out where they were going and what they were doing.
I have always loved tracking but I get a real kick out of snow tracking because it is so easy. Most of the time you track you might get one good print on any given trail and the rest of the time you are following signs of disturbance, which are super easy to lose track of. When you are tracking in the fresh snow you see EVERYTHING.
It is like a replay of the night’s events in high definition.
The boys love track in the morning and insisted on wareing their ‘snow camo robes’ (over snow gear) for this weekends events.
Petroglyphs and Pyramids and Aliens?! Oh My!
Last winter we got really into Antiques Roadshow. We have been doing better this winter at not driving ourselves crazy with marathons of random Netflix shows, until now.
After four hours of the show Ancient Aliens; I lost it and started yelling at the idiot box. Forgetting Mark Twain’s sage advice to “Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.” I guess since it is not technically a person the adage does not apply OR it is worse to by virtue of the fact it is an inanimate object.
Who can keep track of these things?
For those of you who have never experienced the amazing deductive reasoning involved in this show, basically it explores the hypothesis that pretty much every ancient monument, civilization and oddly semetrical stone object was made with the guidance of extraterrestrials.
On a very basic level, the premise is rather insulting to our predecessors. To think that given the lack of electricity and internal combustion they would have been unable to move/manipulate stone unless they had the help of flying saucers. It is completely possible to move heavy objects as long as you are can be smarter than a large rock.
If you don’t believe me check out this site. This retired carpenter demonstrates how ONE MAN can move tons of stone all over the place- using nothing more than simple levers and small stones placed underneath the object to act as a fulcrum.
It’s A SAK!
I was broken, empty and unable to do anything about it. My dad was dead and I was 3000 miles away.
I couldn’t fly home immediately, because bereavement fairs no longer exist and we could not afford a ticket that costs twice what it would in two days.
All I could do was wait; feeling useless and removed.
Talking with my family and making plans for the memorial I was reminded of a practice my dad held dear. He would buy large amounts of surplus military gear and put together what he termed “homeless packs.”
In these packs you could find simple things that would make a huge difference to anyone living out of doors.
He would put them in the trunk of his car and when he saw someone who could benefit from his efforts- he would gift them. My sister an I grew up indoctrinated with the concept of personal acts of charity. The most important aspect of this practice was looking people in the eye, smiling and providing them some simple human comforts.
The basic acknowledgment of another human being. Practicing Namaste.
With the help of my sister we started the Dennis Gobets ‘homeless pack’ project. Or WWDD? It was all I could think to do from Maine. I set up a FB page to explain the concept in order to collect supplies and create packs at his memorial.
It was an amazing success.
One whole wall of the hall we rented for the event was piled with supplies to make packs. By the end of the ceremony; packs had been assembled and stowed in trunks of family and friends ready to be given out.
I was astounded at the response of his friends. Most had never known that this was something he did. All seemed impressed at how this simple act of kindness could ease the suffering of strangers, for no other reason than that you are able to.
It is not a political statement or an attempt to make a comment about our society. It is doing what you can.
Over the past year his friends have taken this idea and run with it. Many of these amazing people I have known my whole life and some I only had the pleasure of meeting after my dad had passed. They banded together and did more with this idea then I would have thought possible.
How To Tell If You Are ‘The Crazy Chicken Lady.’
When two of your FB friends (who don’t know each other and live thousands of miles apart) post pictures on your wall of chicken sweaters; you know you might be a ‘crazy chicken lady.’ Before, I could say that those are “very cool and a little silly but that I’m not that far gone yet,” then I remember this time last year, I was.
Last year with four roosters and fifteen hens in a confined winter coop things got interesting for the ladies. Four roosters in one coop is too much for many reasons but mostly the fighting and the fu… the mating. The poor hens get what is called bareback, when all the feathers have been broken off due being mounted too much.
If the a feather is plucked out that root will grow a new one. If a feather is cut off leaving the quill inside, it will not. As far as the chicken’s body is concerned there is a feather there. This means that they will not grow back till they molt and they only molt once or twice a year.
This is a common problem, so common you can actually buy ‘chicken saddles’ that protect the hens. They are almost twenty bucks a pop and since I am not crazy enough to spend hundreds of dollars on chicken attire I decide I could make some of my own.
I kept the pattern simple but I did line them with a fuzzy blanket one of our dogs ate holes in. For the topsides I recycled the tie dye banners we made for our wedding.
I copied the basic shape of the products I saw online. I folded the top skinny part over to make a channel to string the elastic through and I decided to cross the elastics from one side to the other for more staying power.
This is one of my first, and after what felt like a thousand chicken fittings later and a couple minor adjustments to the general shape I had over a dozen fleece lined tie dye chicken saddles.
The elastic straps go over the chicken’s wings and the fabric sits high on their backs and under the wing feathers. I was pleasantly surprised how well they stayed put. Looking around at my flock of hippy chickens I had to admit this was a bit much even for me.
To my greater shock even my first attempt made it through the winter.
Into the springtime and through many dirt baths.
This winter our rooster ratio is much better and so far we have not encountered the same issue.
In my defense, I want to point out that I HAD to tie dye my hens for their own good. When temperatures are -20F˚exposed skin is no joke. However, I know that it is not really a mark in my favor if I am trying to prove that I am not a crazy chicken lady but I’m ok with that.
The trick to never taking yourself too seriously is to always have something like a flock of tie dye/fleece lined chickens around to explain. It will keep you grounded, believe me.
Candy Boards And Frostbite. Ah, January In Maine.
Since the bees had such a hard time storing honey this summer and given the collapse of last year’s supper strong hive in February I think it is safe to say that I am dubious about these new hives making it to spring.
We had to start feeding with sugar syrup during the fall and a few months ago switched to candy boards for the hives. Candy boards can be made with or without cooking the sugar.
The no-cook version takes more time to prepare since the water has to evaporate. It will take an 8 frame hive over a day to cure and a few days for a 10 frame hive.
My local bee gurus recommend a no-cook recipe of 1 pound of sugar to 1oz. of water, per frame. So, for our 8 frame hives we would slowly add 8 lbs of sugar into 8 oz. of water. Then we would pour it into our candy 1-1 1/4” board frame and wait a couple days for it to dry.
The whole point of candy boards or fondant feeders is that they lack the water the sugar syrups contain.
I opted for the cooked option because I am impatient and love any excuse to play with molten sugar.
Luna was less than impressed with my use of her table but she is unappeasable this time of year with the outside white and frozen.
The cooked recipe I choose requires heating 1 pint of water and 5 lbs granulated sugar to 240˚ degrees F. There are many other recipes out there but I only needed a small batch.
For either method make sure to put a block where the inner cover opening is so they can get in, out and around the sugar iceberg.
When using the cook method; make sure to keep stirring the mixture so that none of it caramelizes and only heat it to just before the hard ball stage.
Caramelized sugar is toxic to bees. No one seems to know why. Excess carbon?
Molten sugar can cause severely painful burns to everyone else so be VERY CAREFUL if you elect the cooked option.
I have been welding since I was 12 and cooking in professional kitchens since I was 15; my burn experience is extensive and let me assure you- sugar burns are the worst!
Our Blog -anniversary!
Next week will mark one year since I started this little blog. I’m not entirely sure what I was doing when I did. Truthfully, I still don’t have much of a clue but I have come to realize that’s ok.
I have never been one for daily diaries (I did keep one in 7th grade that I wrote in hieroglyphics during an extended “Egyptian phase” I went through.) The thought of putting my writing out there for public review has always made me extremely nervous.
I am dyslexic. Writing is a tremendous effort for me, if I intend for others to be able read it. I am proud of myself for taking the time this year to write consistently.
The Borderline
The transition of the seasons and peculiarities of winter still excite me but this is only my fifth Maine winter. I am promised by old timers (and my husband) that this excitement will fade.
Not yet!
I still can’t get enough of all the ways things can freeze, thaw and freeze again.
Trapping water in action is like watching lightning in a bottle for me. I left for work early the other day just so I could stop and throw rocks at Moose pond on my way. In the summer time it looks like this.
Currently it is less fluid.
Skipping stones across it results in a sound that is singular and almost indescribable. The best I can do; is that it sounds like Jurassic Park when the T-rex pulls down the electric fence.
It is absolutely unique, entrancing and hard to stop once you get started. It was good I ran out of stones that were not frozen to the ground- otherwise I would have been late to work.
“Where’s My Hoverboard?!”
After watching all three “Back to the Future” movies with the boys, I remembered that- as of tomorrow we will all have hoverboards, flying cars, movie posters that try to eat you and pizza re-hydrators!
Unless that is, Biff isn’t stopped from giving his past self the sports almanac; in which case tomorrow will bring roaming bands of motorcycle ganges and wide spread gun violence.
HOLY CRAP!
Is that what is wrong with America today!?! We need a Dalorian and a mad scientist, STAT!
Meanwhile back on the homestead it has been an eventful year.
Last year I decided to make some major changes in my day to day focus. I put my restaurant career on the back burner and really put time with my little family first.
After all, I did not move across the country to further my career. I moved to have the chance to create a family home with Ry and the boys.
The four of us got to spend more time all together this past year than any other. It was indescribable. Childhood moments are fleeting. It has been an honor to be there for more of them.
Instead of my phone ringing all the time (always with a problem or adjustment on the other side of the line) it was silent. I got a job restoring antiques in my home town and am again starting a new trade from the bottom up.
We tripled the size of our garden from 2013 and learned many lessons along the way, like not planting corn too close together.
Even though we had many set backs, there was still a glorious harvest.
“I Only Know Enough To Know I Don’t Know Much.”
Because the beginning of next year starts with the end of this one I thought the end of last year was a good place to start the next.
Confused yet? Don’t be.
The changes this year held for us have been immense. We have done many things and many things have happened to us. It all begun with the end of 2013.
-One year ago I wrote:
Why do we feel the need to try and convey a year of change with a few paragraphs? How can you judge a whole year? The answer is that you can’t. But I am obstinate so here I go anyway.
The events of 2013 have left me. I do not much wish to cling to them. Not because they were good or bad but simply because they have gone on.
I am at peace with letting them go.
“Oh Christmas Wall, Oh Christmas Wall…”
Growing up a tree hugging, dirt worshiping-California hippy, my family never cut down trees for Christmas.
Instead we had a small tree growing in a wine barrel that we brought in for a few days each year with the help of my dad’s old Santa Cruz skate board. It would be wheeled in and decorated before returning to the patio for another year under the redwoods.
After we moved my husband and I continued this tradition for the first few years on the East Coast. We also adopted a new one, only handmade ornaments for the tree.
Since the boys (all of them) were/still in the middle of a Star Wars phase, I made everyone a special Star Wars ornament. We completed the look with a Queen Amidala topper.
Our little tree retired last spring, planted out by the chicken coop. We have some pines that line our driveway and since one of them was under the power lines to the house we decided to try something new.
Cutting down a real tree.
I am glad we did it- but I was jaded after years of not dealing with the fallen needles and general space taking that occurs with a big tree. This year we all decided to skip the real tree all together and decorate the family tree mural in the living room instead.
Since the boys have a totally traditional Christmas at their other house, (complete with the now obligatory,and always creepy- elf on the shelf) we did not feel this would deprive them of any Christmas cheer.
We gave them the final say and true to form they added some new policies of their own in the bargain.
Eastward Ho Part IV-Yellowstone
The day after our mining adventure in Helena Montana, we heeded for the North entrance of Yellowstone. We had planned our route cross country based mostly on national parks, geology and a vow to wander as much as possible.
Having set out at the very brink of spring; the West entrance to the park was the only other gate open and it had only been open a day.
Snow still covered the park in some areas and the springs steamed in the cool air.
We had no real idea where we were going, just that we wanted to see wildlife, water and geysers in whatever order they came. Driectly after passing the stone arch of randomness we got to the ranger’s station and were presented with this ominous flyer:
This was going to be a good day! I think this is the best thing I have ever been handed in a national park.
Rounding the bend above the little town center we stopped dead in the middle of the road (we were lucky the park was almost empty during our visit) both of our jaws on the floor as this grazed 15 feet from the truck.
Holy crap! That’s a Fu*king buffalo! It didn’t take much note of us, until Pele started barking uncontrollably, through the window at the quadruped. I have no idea what her deal was. It was as if she took offense to the sight on some basic premiss.
In my head she sounded thus- “Hey you!!! You’re not a cow! You look like a cow, but you don’t smell like one. EXPLAIN YOURSELF NOT COW! Why are you as big as the truck?!”
Not waiting for answers to her doggie questions we continued on. Pele whined disconsolately, Honey looked nonplussed at her pack-mates behavior.
A little farther down the road we came to these amazing mineral pools/hot springs.
Snow, Rain, Sleet, Repeat.
The weather here the past week has been a bit indecisive. It seems as soon as we get some decent powder we get ice on top of it. The lakes and ponds have frozen,
thawed.
and frozen again.
Most mornings we have woken up to a dusting. I am still in awe of the beauty of the frozen world that I pass on my new commute along the backroads of Acton.
Parenting With Eggs and Snow Forts.
I don’t claim any kind of special parenting proficiency but every once in a while I make a point that sticks.
Hey, even a blind squirl occasionally finds a nut.
“Sorry” is a concept that we all try to teach our kids from a very early age. Some of the first words we insist children say are: “please,” “thank you” and “I’m sorry.”
But what does it mean? “Please” and “thank you” are self explanatory but “I’m sorry” can be difficult, not so much its use but its over-use. It should not be something said flippantly. When you are apologizing you should look the person in the eye and really mean it. Otherwise the words become empty.
Once the practice is in place- comes the more difficult idea that it does not actually fix anything. Atonement is well and good but it is better to be aware of yourself enough not to transgress in the first place.
Once kids master the habit it becomes easy and days are filled with:
“Oppsies, sorry!”
“Sorry!”
“Oh I didn’t mean to, sorry;”
“Sorry! I wasn’t looking!”
“I forgot, sorry!” Etc.
The boys are great at all the basics, but last year we reached a point where they were old enough to take responsibility for their choice to trespass. Our focus needed to shift to a greater awareness of the things around our bodies and our actions.
I decided to try an object lesson to show the what saying “sorry” does and doesn’t do.
I handed them both an egg and told them to go outside. Once in the garden, I told them both to smash their egg. (I believe that the major export from boy-land for the first five years of life is ‘destruction’ and this request would not be a problem.) They both looked at me like there was some catch, my face assured them I meant exactly what I said.
Full of glee, they both smashed (and for good measure stomped) their respective eggs into tinny bits. Smiling, they both looked at me expectedly.
Grinning back I told them “Now say ‘sorry’ to your egg.” They both looked down and said “sorry.”
“Humm” I said “maybe if you said it louder. Try yelling it. ”
“SORRY!!!!” They bellowed.
“What does saying ‘sorry’ do?” I asked.
Glazed Maine
Some people start their morning with glazed donuts. Here in Maine, some mornings everything wakes up glazed. The only difference is how you drive.
Pyramids- The Snowman’s Angular Cousins.
Last week’s pre-Thansgiving snow storm left us with over a foot of frozen clouds in our yard.
I thought to myself- “self, I bet we could make a snow pyramid. WAIT!!! I bet I could get the boys to help me make the whole Giza Plateau.”
Since I have been blessed with the two coolest stepsons in history; they got excited as I was about the project (after I explained what the Giza Plateau was.) We decided to make everything to scale (after I explained the concept of making something ‘to scale.’)
We got out the graph paper and traced the layout of the plateau, decided that each square would = one milk crate and set to work.
There was a lot of shoveling and packing and more shoveling.
It didn’t take very long to get kid sized piles of snow all ready for shaping.
Time is never on sale. Get It While You Can!
One year ago, I drove across town with the boys in blissful ignorance of what the day would bring.
We were on a mission to find post-Thanksgiving donuts to round out our holiday gluttony.
As we passed the lake; I saw that it was on the cusp of solidity, a magical phase that only lasts a few days.
“You guys want to stop and try to break the lake ice?”
“Yahhh!!!!” 
A few minutes later we parked, donuts in hand and began a simple activity that could consume our entire day if we let it. 
There are no rules, expect to make sure everyone is out of the way of your attempts. We used stones. 
And sticks. 
I supervised and walked the shore looking at all the little frozen moments in time. Absently thinking my dad would get a kick out of them and I should take pictures for him.
He loved bearing witness to nature’s fleeting singularities.
Experiences that you have to seek out or seize when the opportunity arises. The transitory stages of life and nature that stop for no one. 
Like fall leaves becoming winter prisoners and simple sticks encased in frozen light. 
My parents taught me the importance of being aware of these simple mortal pleasures. My dad taught me to take pictures of them. 
So I did. 
I happily clicked away, listening to the squeals of triumph and frustration as the boys continued their work. I felt contentment mixed with urning to share this with everyone back home, settling on snapshots instead.
My feeble attempt to bridge the gap between East and West. It is was futile bid to capture a feeling that will never come again.
The most important things in your life cost nothing but your time and awareness. The awareness that the chance may never come again.
It cannot be found in any sale.
Later that night after a series of life ultering phone calls; I lay on my living room couch completely anyliated. Torturing myself with thoughts of all the things I would never have the chance to share with my dad.
He would never taste our summer’s harvest of honey.
He would never met Isis or cuddle with Pele again.
There would be no sharing days ‘North of town’ with the boys.
No more opportunities to be Grandpa Wise man.
The finality of it was crushing.
Perhaps it was fitting the boys where with us. Reminding me, in no uncertain terms, why I was thousands of miles away from the rest of my family.
To make the memories and pass on the habits that were given to me.
Above all it reaffirmed some basic truths about life.
Take the time to truly be aware of the moment.
Make time with loved ones life’s highest priority.
It is not a complicated thing and there is only so much time for it.
Make the most of every second and never miss a chance to show someone you love them.
Like taking the time to stop and throw rocks at ice. For no reason other than that we were there together to do it.
Be well!
“Where Are My Feet!?!”
No matter how ready I think I am the snow still often catches me unaware.
At around noon yesterday, I turned around from my work table and the outside world was filled with flakes.
These were not ‘Norman Rockwell flakes,’ these were ‘storming the beaches of Normandy flakes.’ Filling the world, hell bent on covering all of existence.
I realized quickly I was going to have to cut work short to get home. Even though the shop is in my town it is strategically located on the other side Great East Lake. This means I have to go around a ginormous lake no matter which way I try, unless I get a jet ski.
There are several ways home, unfortunately none of them had the “been plowed” option available. I decided to take the down hill route. Unplowed hills can be very difficult to get up even with all wheel drive.
I knew it was bad when other tracks on the road were already filled in from cars you just passed.
All I could really do it go slow and steady. Even then it is easy to slip and slid at the smallest adjustment or incline. Learning to drive in the snow has been really challenging!
After half an hour I was at the top of my road only to be stopped at the graveyard by a Firelady telling me there is a “car in the pond” at the bottom of the hill and the road is closed.
“NOOOO!”
I could have turned around and tried to go all the way around again but I decided to wait instead. I was so close.
How Train Your Humans By- The Dogs
I think we can safely say that as dog owners we have fallen short more than a couple times. Since we are have three female dogs (all with aspirations of alphadom) it has not always been easy to manage our little pack.
Isis’s birthday has just passed and so she has officially entered the “terrible twos” in human years and doggie-early adulthood at the same time. What a magical combination!
She is pretty adorable, unfortunately she knows it.
I have come to believe that under that beautiful coat she is secretly harboring 10 square miles worth of New Zeland sheep country.
She has been shedding for three months now.
We can only hope this last fluffy bottom coat will be the last. On the upside; she will spends hours outside in the winter snow. Wondering why no one wants to play with her.
It has not been easy to raise a husky. I think having her from such a young age has put her on par with the other two girls, who both have issues left over from being rescue animals.
For example; since Pele was raised in a concrete cell and then a boat:
She still doesn’t trust going to the bathroom on dirt or anything outside a manmade walkway. Instead she will choose any stone, wood or concrete surface at her disposal in the dog run.
It is the weirdest thing but the habit probably kept her from falling into the Santa Cruz harbor.
Also, she mortified of her water dispenser. It ocasianlly gives a bubble-burp that she might suspect is some form of witchcraft or a trap, I don’t know.
When we contemplated a third member of the pack we thought it best for the other two that the new addition be a ‘known variable.’ We wanted to know exactly what breed and how old (we have argued for year about the linage and history of the other two.)
I know buying a pure breed can be contraversial in this day and age but since this was my first one after many dogs I don’t feel too bad. We also thought we owed it to the other two to get a very young dog who would accept her Omaga place in the pack without a power struggle.
So much for that!
The first two weeks were amazing.
Till the day she decided (at 9 weeks old) to tell Honey the food was HERS. It did not end well.
The Eye, The Mountain and The Tree.
Sometimes (well ok- most of the time) I wish I could just go around life’s hard patches. Alas, I find again and again these phases are not only inevitable, but vital if I am to come out the other side any wiser.
Many times I go through adversity only to vow that the next time I will avoid the obstacle when it presents itself. “That was way too hard,” I think.
“I never want to do it again.”
“I shouldn’t have to- that was enough.”
“Isn’t there some reward for all that effort?!”
Like a raging headache that takes up residence in the back of the scull, I hope the time passed in discomfort will never come again.
Difficult times like these become high water marks in my lives. The measure with which I assess all things to come.
Life’s adversities can be our greatest teachers. It’s a class of one; there is no professor and no final exam, only continued existence (if we are lucky.)
When I can be aware of myself through my pain I gain a perspective I can’t feel any other way.
Our society makes it hard not to compare myself to other people, blogs, Facebook status and the “achievements of the noteworthy.”
I often wonder how authentic any of it is. The plagiaristic culture of Pinterest, the edited nature of almost every popular image and selective reporting of events online. In this ever-changing always “sharing” world where can I find an innate source of direction?
My whole life there are three symbols that have recurred. Either organically from my surroundings or manifested by my own hand- the eye,
the mountain,
and the tree;
have always been with me.
My First Year Without A Father.
The end of November will mark one year since my dad passed unexpectedly.
It has been the first year of my life I didn’t have a dad ready at hand. Just a phone call away. Not that I called all the time. I am an independent person and have been my whole life (I am a Leo after all.) I have never been one to run and call my parents for help or advise when life gets rough or I need something.
It is a trait I know my dad held in high regard. By the time I was in my late teens my dad and I were pretty much on equal footing. He had given me the tools of introspection, self questioning and debate (something I am sure he regretted more than a few times during my teens.)
We had hashed out almost every parent/offspring issue that families have and had found a common respect and understanding. I had been working full time for years and for the most part, took care of my own expenses. I cooked dinner frequently and most of the time he was pleased to have me in the house. He had a high standard about what “pitching in” around the house means.
I never had the urge to leave my familiar home, it was a place of comfort and peace. I attended college locally and stayed till I was 22. When I moved in with my (then) boyfriend of seven years- after the loss of his mother.
I returned two years later when we broke up.
I was always able to pass large amounts of time with my dad. I accepted his eccentricities and stubborn ways.
He was never mean but he could be petulant.
For example:
If you didn’t indulge his Saturday morning mandate to watch “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” or “The Quite Man” for the umpteenth time he had the tendency to sulk or throw a mini ‘dad fit.’
“Well then, I will go watch it in my work room.”
He would work on some project or other. When the movie was over he would be back with a new activity suggestion. Unless you had “something productive” you were currently involved in, this new proposal should not be refused or the petulance would grow into a weekend devouring ‘mood.’
Often at the time these day altering activities were declared, they were posed as “just a quick jaunt.”
“There is this really cool diner a little drive from here, you have to check it out! Do you have time for lunch?”
“Looks Cold…”
We had our first real snow of this year. It’s really amazing that silently over night the yard can go from-
to-
I think the lettuce is finally done.
The back garden is also out of commission till next year, season over.
The chickens stayed inside for the first time in a long while to avoid frostbite, which as we found out last year– is not a good time. Now, I have to consolidate the chickens into two coops and retire the big coop for the winter.