Thanks for Everything

When I was a kid my mother had a rule that made me nearly explode at the end of every August.  Having worked myself into a frenzy opening a glut of birthday presents, I was required to write thank you notes before I could stash the loot in my room.  It’s not that I wasn't appreciative, but the timing couldn't have been worse!  I dutifully scribbled notes in the neatest penmanship I could muster considering the circumstances.  Then off I’d fly to my room never to be seen or heard from again.  Good news, mom!  I learned the lesson:  I don’t make a habit of taking things or people for granted.  Unfortunately, it still creeps up on me quicker than I’d like to admit.  My excuse is that everything in life seems to happen so fast these days – one week zooms into the next, seasons pass in a blink, my how the year does fly!  It is a great relief to me that Americans have a handy national holiday during which it is “strongly suggested” I STOP and appreciate my blessings.  I still write thank you notes for my birthday gifts, but I've upped the ante for Thanksgiving, the time for reflection and offering of thanks comes regardless of the gluttonous feast.

First Fire

I drove home yesterday evening after a long day of work, appointments, and errands.  A residual chest cold had drained every last ounce of my fledgling energy and forced me to concentrate intensely on the road.  Otherwise, I would have enjoyed the lingering washes of sunlight that swept the skyline above the open, rolling fields as I passed.  Nearing home, I began weaving myself into forested hills and hollows.  I finally pulled in my gravel driveway with a wheezy sigh of relief.  I grinned.  A smoky billow was curling from our chimney.  I dragged myself and my groceries into the house and was immediately wrapped in the warm scent of hot soup and burning wood.  My husband had dinner and a hug ready when I stepped in the door.  If there was ever a winning combo to enhance my mood (and recovery), he’d nailed it.  The warmth from the fire in our cozy apartment, the steamy chicken soup, and a mug of soothing herbal tea were the perfect fit as I lay swaddled in a fleecy blanket on our couch.  The first fire of the season is always exciting; but this year, it was also therapeutic.  

A Little Taste of Everest

Adirondack High Peaks

Weeks ago I wrote that I had officially joined the 30's Club.  As a birthday gift Weldon suggested the two of us tack on some time before my family’s annual reunion in New York & Vermont over Columbus Day weekend.  We decided to fly one-way, rent a car, and do a mini camping tour of the White (NH), Green (VT), and Adirondack Mountains (NY).  In New Hampshire, we drove the famous Auto Road up Mt. Washington to the peak at 6,148 feet where a long-standing world record for wind speed was recorded at 231 mph in 1934.  In Vermont we met up with friends in Burlington after devouring the nautical tidbits on display at the nearby Lake Champlain Maritime Museum.  As our couple’s trip drew to a close we set up our tent at Adirondack Loj near Lake Placid, NY.  A friend of ours, an unofficial expert of the 46 High Peaks of the Adirondacks, gave us a tip about Adirondack Loj and the hike at Mt. Jo.  This hike, my friend assured us, was short and boasted as good a view as any of the majestic High Peaks region.  We took the bait and on a stunningly beautiful October afternoon last week we began our trek.  “It’s only 3.5 miles,” I shrugged…but then I added the Outdoor Idiot’s famous last words, "How bad could it be?”

Harvest Finale

Our intentions for an extended fall garden have all but unraveled.  Most of our brassica seedlings were mown off by an interloping groundhog.  In protest, the survivors refused to grow taller than 2 inches.  The next wave of seeds empathized with their masticated comrades and simply didn't sprout.  Though our spring peas did fairly well, the fall peas wallowed in the soil and decided they preferred their subterranean posts better than the airy sunshine above.  We never did get the turnips, kale, or chard seeded…oops.  The faster summer flew by, the more distant our fall garden pursuits became.  What we expected to be a multi-species autumnal smorgasbord dwindled to a humble vegetable platter.  But I’m not complaining…

Smashed Potatoes: A Fall Favorite

The change of season has me yearning for the comforting dishes that cool temperatures bring:  braises, stews, soups, and root vegetables.  This week, in honor of autumn, I whipped out one of our favorite potato recipes – Creamy Garlic-Dill Smashed Potatoes.  My husband starts to drool at the mere mention of them.  This dish is a perennial go-to that accompanies almost any main course.  For this go around, I served it with pan-fried flounder filets, ginger-pear chutney, and sautéed summer squash.  These potatoes are simple to make and oh so delicious to eat!  Happy Fall!!

Creamy Garlic-Dill Smashed Potatoes

Serves 4, but the recipe easily multiplies for a crowd

1.5 lbs. organic yellow/golden potatoes

3 T. organic sour cream

3 T. organic butter

Garlic Powder, to taste (start with ½ tsp.)

1 tsp. Dried Dill

Salt & Pepper to taste

1. In a medium pot, bring salted water to boil.

2. After scrubbing your potatoes, cut them into uniform bite-sized pieces leaving the skins on.

3. Boil potatoes until fork-tender.  Drain in a colander.

4. Meanwhile, in the same pot (but off heat), add the sour cream and butter.  Stir until melted and mixed.

5. Add potatoes, stirring gently with a wooden spoon to coat them.

6. Add dill and garlic powder.  Stir gently to incorporate.  Adjust seasonings to taste. 

7. Salt & Pepper to taste

You’re right; I never actually “smashed” the potatoes.  Between the hot potato starch and luscious additions, there’s no need!  The light stirring will render the potatoes both delightfully chunky with a creamy finish.  The skins (which harbor a solid component of the potato’s vitamin & mineral content) will be enfolded in the tasty mixture.  Besides making your tongue explode with rich tanginess, the sour cream and butter aid the body’s ability to digest the fiber content in the meal.  Who knew health could be so delicious?!

September Stroll

Afternoon Commute

I came home from work yesterday itching to get outside and enjoy the quintessential September day.  This month is one of my absolute favorites because of weather like this.  I knew it would be the perfect specimen of a day when I left earlier in the morning. As I swung the front door open the air had given me a refreshing wave of chills. I had fought with the heavy dew and the golden morning glow of the sun just to see out my windshield.  Then into the time warp of the school building I went...never to see sunlight again until 3 p.m.  As my wheels swung back into my gravel driveway I had my heart set on a walk.  I figured I'd go check on our ancient pear trees and determine if Saturday would be a pear canning day.  Like a little kid I crept into the house (certain that my husband was taking a needed nap).  I tiptoed to get my grubby jeans, decided to forego a change of top, grabbed my camera, and slipped on my chore clogs.  Then I carefully closed the screen door behind me wishing in vain that it didn't creak so vehemently every time it moved an inch.  Oh well...I was off into the wide world to see what I could see...

Cleaning: the Long & Short of It

It’s probably unwise for a woman living south of the Mason-Dixon Line to admit it, but I’m not religious when it comes to cleaning my home.  On the spectrum from Clean Jean to Messy Jessie, I prefer to be Sane Jane -- Jean’s artistic, active, and somewhat less-kept sister.  Because I’m not a fan of clutter or filth, I do the basic once over on a fairly regular basis.  But suffice it to say my home has a love-hate relationship with the white glove test.  I've observed that most creative homesteads accept a certain level of disarray in order to focus on living their convictions while maintaining sanity.  This notion has always provided me with calming validation.  As with so much in life, it’s all about balance.  Most people who know me recognize that I’m not a stickler for domestic customs.  Despite this truth, I can’t ignore that our home needs a proper scrubbing after both winter’s hibernation and summer’s flurry of activity.  As much as I like to clean to the beat of my own drum, I generally follow suit when it comes to Spring and Fall Cleaning.  On a recent Saturday Weldon and I put Cinderella to shame with our zealous energy to get our house back to spic ‘n span.  As a shout-out to my thoroughly modern husband, he was neither bribed nor threatened into participating in this event. We turned on some peppy tunes and each chose a weapon of choice (rag, bucket, vacuum, spray bottle). We moved furniture, washed baseboards, vacuumed every stitch, wiped every surface, and even did the little To Do’s that have hovered in limbo for months.  I don’t mean to brag or rub it in, but it gives me great satisfaction to know that not only is my house clean (for now), but we did the work without using toxic chemicals.  It’s neither as difficult nor as pricey as it may sound.  I’m sure there are plenty of Clean Jean’s posting their whiz-bang tips for a perpetually spotless abode, but below I've offered my personal nitty gritty on Sane Jane house cleaning. 

Thankful: To "B" or Not To Be

There are two sides to every coin.  Good day, bad day.  Good season, bad season.  Good year, bad year.  I've found that life usually falls somewhere in between with a strong leaning to the good if we're willing to see it that way.  But we always have a choice...

A Pig's Tale

If goats make mischief, sheep induce serenity (and relieve the insomniac), and the hen house is full of clucking female banter, then the barnyard attribute I assign to the pig is pleasure.  When the acorns litter the ground, the leaves are aflame in a golden blaze, and the air is crisp and dry, there's no place like our wooded pig pastures for passing time and taking it easy.  I mean that for me as much as our herd.  I like to think it's the pigs' favorite time of year, too.  It's cool enough for them to stay comfortable and some of their favorite treats, nuts & acorns, are literally raining down on them.  On our farm, fall is the time for the pigs to shine!  I'm sure the fact that apples, sweet potatoes, and the bulk of autumnal fare often look to pork as a culinary foundation plays a part in my connection.  But for now, I'm talking less about the end product and more about the personality and "pig-ness" of a pig. I realize that the majority of American society would have a plethora of connotations for these fine swine that might include dirty, stinky, gross, and the like (I was in that camp a mere five years ago), but our pigs generate more smiles, chuckles, and good clean fun than any other species on our farm.  Whether giving a snort with each footfall, a barking run (yes, I mean bark like a dog), the smacking of chops that accompanies any morsel, a satisfying slump in which the belly paunch rests nimbly on the ground, or a nuzzle to be near any other companion, pigs are hilarious!  It seems to me that they have an acute propensity to enjoy their present activity...whatever it may be.  I can't help but watch them and find myself smirking or wanting to give a running commentary of their actions.  "Uh, hey guys. Whacha got there? Oh cool...what a weird root! Lemme see. Come on, Lemme see!"  Slumping to the ground. "Ok, fine. I'll just, uh, chill here til you're..." Jumping up with a jerk, Run, bark. Run, bark. Run, bark. "Uh, hey gals. Whacha got there? Mmmm...that looks good.  Scooch over so I can fit." Mash, squish, slump. "Awesome."


Pure Satisfaction

A Studly Spud

Inspired by two recent rendezvous with a loaded baked potato, I was craving to create my own delectable version last week.  Critics are raving!  Okay, okay, so the critics may be my husband and me, but still...this easy meatless meal was not only scrumptious, but healthful, filling, and the perfect dish for a crisp autumn day.  In my home we're getting better at conscientiously consuming starches and carbohydrates -- I'm Italian and married to an Irish man! -- however, I feel that because white potatoes are a natural tuber and nutrient rich, they should be thoroughly enjoyed, though irregularly on the menu.

Meet Me At The Fair

"The great difficulty in education is to get experience out of ideas."
- George Santayana, early 20th-century philosopher and writer

Well, folks, I just got back from a lovely trip, not along the Milky Way, but along the interstate.  For three whole days I gorged myself on all things sustainable living, do-it-yourself, homestead style, healthful habits, and renewable energy.  At the moment I'm literally stuffed to the gills with information.  Where did I run off to?  The Mother Earth News Fair in Seven Springs, Pennsylvania.

Let's Talk Turkey

I'm not fluent in turkey...at best I'm conversational.