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

Testing My Limits

A few years ago I cut back on my daily ritual of putting on deodorant.  Shock of all shocks!  Horror of all horrors!  I know.  I don't enjoy the stench of B.O. any more than the next person, but there's quite a bit of discussion linking aluminum in antiperspirant-deodorants with some serious health concerns. Charged by this query, I thought it through and decided to attempt the unthinkable. Could I achieve this feat without being an affront to society's nostrils?  Let me back up and state that I've leaned more toward the glam side of femininity than the grunge, so this trial was a major step. Also for the record, within fifteen minutes of getting dressed every morning in high school I'd have embarrassing sweat circles in my armpits. (Can we say stressed?!?) Over the years I curbed my stress and the sweating, but I'll reiterate...this no-deodorant gig was a major step for me. Long story short, my body now self-regulates with nothing but bathing, healthy eating, and an occasional dab of natural, herbal deodorant. (Not that I didn't have a few stinky days initially while figuring all this out.) Voila! I'm not running anyone off with my stench and I've kicked a chemical-product habit. While I'm sure a post about my hygiene would spike my blog's readership overnight (or make a few spouses don clothespins on their noses and glare angrily in my direction), I'll burst your bubble and admit that this post is about testing my limits, not my underarms.

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.

Home Sweet Home

When I was a little girl I dreamed I would grow up and live in a huge garage.  Wait.  What??  That can't be right.  But truth is stranger than fiction, no?  The truth is that as of a couple weeks ago I AM living in a huge garage.  I moved from my rented 1,300 square-foot brick home with a full basement, yard, shade trees and large garden plot to a 650 square-foot apartment that makes up 1/2 of a metal shop building complete with an over-sized garage door, OSB wooden sheet and metal walls, and unpainted concrete floors. There is no yard and very little southern exposure.  Despite what you may be thinking right now it was an easy decision to make.

BEFORE

AFTER...yes, these are labeled correctly

Because I can, can, can

Nothing says summer to me quite like the weekly, bi-weekly, or even twice-weekly process of transforming fresh-picked produce into a Technicolor glass menagerie.   Each winter I make a list of new recipes to try or gaps in the canning pantry I’m desperate to fill.  By spring I’m chomping at the bit to line up my Mason jars, wash up my canner, and break out new seals.  When spring’s mad rush of outdoor duties gives way to higher temperatures and a burgeoning garden, it’s the kitchen that once again takes center stage.  Lugging the garden’s bounty inside is merely the intro.  Then I rumple my hair like every good conductor and begin orchestrating the whoosh, plop, clang, sizzle, and hiss of utensils, pots, pans and jars.  I maintain this rhythm throughout May, June, July, and August in preparation for the coming year.  While it can be a formidable task and I don’t always look forward to it on the morning of a canning day, I know nothing will taste better on a cold February afternoon than a half-day’s work from last August.

A Bit of Berry Good Advice

After not having written in over a month, I'm attempting to get back in the good graces of my readers by solving an annual dilemma.  Cookout season has begun (and BERRY season along with it)...  You brought killer potato salad last year...and decadent jello salad the year before that...and strawberry spinach salad the year before that...   Now what?!?!?!?   I'm going to share a simple, gloriously delicious, seasonally friendly recipe that will have everyone smiling without knocking their teeth out with cavities.  I call it my Any-Kind-of-Fruit Crisp.