{this moment}

Tags

baby, connection, cousins, family, generations, soulemama, this moment

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama.

If you have a ‘moment’ to share, leave a link to your post in the comments for all to find and see.

that much sweeter when it comes

Tags

balance bike, boys, crocus, german shorthaired pointer, homeschooling, ice cream cone, long winter, mud, northern Maine, spring, sunshine

Winters are long here. So, so long. We have our first frost no later than mid-September. The ice goes out on the lake sometime in May (May 1, this year, was very early). In between, it is beautiful. It is white and frozen and stark and windswept and still and wild and cold. It is often very, very cold–I once photographed the thermometer resting comfortably at -40°F.

And it is dark. At the solstice, before the trend shifts back to lengthening days, we are lucky to have 8 hours of daylight. On cloudy or stormy days, there’s much less. And though we love it, it’s a long haul.

Those long stretches of cold and dark wear on us sometimes. We feel hopeless and isolated, tired of the same four (small) walls and the company of the same people each day. Sometimes, we doubt that spring ever will come.

And yet, come it does, with mud and robins and crocus blossoms and yearling moose in the roads and loons crying at night. And eventually, we get the heat, the green grass, the leaves on the trees, and the black flies (ugh!). Every spring, it seems to me, is sweeter than the last. Every spring, we walk out the door, open our arms, and welcome it, embrace it, hold it close. We all lose our minds a little when we see daffodil buds, feel mud between our toes, watch the chickadees building a nest in the hole in the birch tree. After all that long dark cold, our sweet spring is that much sweeter when it comes.

This week, we’ve enjoyed glorious weather and unseasonable temperatures. Yesterday, when a store clerk told me to enjoy the beautiful weather, I answered, “How can you not?”

Indeed, how can you not?

on the farm

Tags

apple trees, barn, calves, climbing trees, draft horses, farm life, friendship, goats, haflingers, homeschooling, homesteading, jersey cows, milk cows, misfit farms, northern Maine

We are so lucky, that our nearest, dearest friends, are also terribly near. My dearest friend Sigrid lives a few (very, very, very, for this locale) short miles down the road, and her boys, Ulli and Tait, are my boys’ best buds. It seems built-in–how could we not be close with these nearest neighbors of similar taste and value? But we all know that affinity is not necessarily dictated by proximity and similar tastes.

Luckily, in this case, affinity transcended proximity. And there are so very many shared values and tastes. Sig and her partner Kurt are really *doing* the farming thing that we hope to be doing soon-ish. And I’ve learned by proxy that it’s one hell of a lot of hard work. But oh-so rewarding. Sig and Kurt, as Misfit Farms, make some enormous awesome eggs, some tasty grassfed beef, delicious milk, and the best honey I’ve ever eaten. Not to mention their plums, blueberries, veggies, and apples…..

Earlier this week, we spent an afternoon with these friends, in part because they’d been out of town for ten days (!!!) and in part because we do so at least once a week anyway, and in part because they had a brandy-brandy new baby calf to gawk at.

Who can resist a brand new calf? Not us, certainly. This is JayJay, and he’s who we came to see, ostensibly. But as you can tell, we enjoyed the better part of a day on the farm. Between climbing trees, visiting critters, stringing fencing, and watching everyone enjoy the spring, we were happy to share the joy (and the camera work, if nothing else).

Farm days are some of the best.

christmas every day

Tags

bacon, birthday gifts, books, delivery, geek love, ireland, mail, packages, postcards, year of wonders

In this house, we like to tease our Mama about certain things. Piles of fabric and vintage linens. How much she reads. Unfinished projects. Setting the smoke detectors off while cooking. Ideas guaranteed to make Daddy cringe. Her dirty car. Giddiness about checking the mailbox.

Yes, you read the last correctly, and I’ll own it. I am positively overjoyed each time I walk up the driveway to check the mailbox.

So what if it’s most often bills, or worse, junk mail and circulars? It’s the thrill of expectation that matters. Anything could be waiting in that box when I open the door. Anything.

It’s like Christmas every day.

And sometimes, I’m rewarded for my vigilance and anticipation. Sometimes, there’s something amazing there, waiting just for me.

Like the day a few weeks ago when my birthday package arrived from my best friend Meg. Not only was it sealed with bacon duct tape (bacon duct tape?!?!?! wonder of wonders!), but it held all these lovely goodies. (Note: I’ve read Year of Wonders now and was completely rapt. Read that book. I’m also about 7/8 through Geek Love, and though it’s disturbing and I doubted I’d enjoy or stick with it, I can’t get enough. Read that one too.)

Or this morning, when I found this sweet and funny postcard from Rachel and Jubal, honeymooning in Ireland.

<sigh> If only every day was this pleasant!

{this moment}

Tags

farm life, homeschooling, soulemama, spring, tree climbing

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama.

If you have a ‘moment’ to share, leave a link to your post in the comments for all to find and see.

change of the seasons

Tags

balance bikes, Boston Marathon Bombing, change, crocus, David Mallett, ice, lake, mud season, music, picnic, rhubarb, seasons, spring

The child of bona fide hippies (Woodstock, Kent State, long hair and love beads), I grew up in houses full of music. Always, from somewhere in or out of doors, music streamed, subtly shaping and weaving itself into every memory. My mother played guitar, singing  “Leavin’ On a Jet Plane,” and “Hay Una Mujer Desaparecida.” Stacks of records filled bookshelves and piled against walls. I learned early that I could get my folks to stop at a yard sale by calling out, “I see albums!” In the car, we wore out cassette tapes, all of us (though the number varied regularly) joyfully taking parts with the Carter family, the Kingston Trio, and Joan Baez.  Every moment of that time has a soundtrack. It was years before I understood how “weird” this was.

Though we cycled through artists and styles, there were constants. Tom Rush. Jefferson Airplane. Dave Mallett. However I search my mind, I cannot recall a time before I knew the music of Dave Mallett. Yes, I learned the “Garden Song,” as most kids did (and do). But I also learned “Inches and Miles,” “Pennsylvania Sunrise,” “Closer to Truth,” “For a Lifetime,” and “Autumn.” If I think about it now, I can probably attribute my affinity for beautiful lyrics, poetic guitar picking, and fighting for a good cause, directly to being so fully steeped in Dave’s music.

It helps that I know Dave, a little bit, and that he is a good guy, a kind guy, the sort who always thanked me when I brought him water onstage, and who once played my favorite song, “April” (which you can find on his most recent album, Greenin’ Up), just for awkward teenage me, backstage after a show.

More though, I think the poet in him speaks to the poet in me, and over and over through the years I’ve found myself turning to his music to make right whatever emotions bubble inside me. Heartbreaks, cross country moves, new babies, moments of terror, communions with the land, and quiet celebrations have all found outlet in one or another of those songs.

As I looked through the photos I’ve taken recently, and collected my thoughts to put words on this “page”–words about violence and courage and spring and change and growth and sameness and continuity– I realized that I’d been humming and singing one song for weeks now.

And it makes sense, of course. Because the world seems to have gone to madness, and there have been terribly bad dreams.

And today as I wander through this laughing new morning
As the clear mornin’ air takes the bad dreams away
From birthplace to graveyard in a land gone to madness
I come to this old place on the saddest of days
And I sit here watching the change of the seasons
And today I feel a bit older somehow
But like the tide and the river as it reaches the ocean
I think I’ll be alright for now.

{this moment}

Tags

boys, charlie tunic, deck, forts, sleeping bag, soulemama, spring

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama.

If you have a ‘moment’ to share, leave a link to your post in the comments for all to find and see.

{this moment}

Tags

birthday party, cotton candy, maine jump, tie dye

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama.

If you have a ‘moment’ to share, leave a link to your post in the comments for all to find and see.

failproof bread

Tags

baking, basic sandwich bread, bread maker, clean eating, homemade bread, homemaking, recipe, sustainable, yeast

For over four years now, I’ve made pretty much all the bread we eat in this house. Yes, sometimes we splurge on a fancy “artisan” bread, but generally we eat homemade. Over the years I’ve worked to improve our diet, whenever and wherever possible. Homegrown and/or organic veggies. Free range farm eggs. Natural peanut butter. Grassfed meats. Standard grocery store bread is pretty tasteless at best, and many of the ingredients are unpronounceable. Not to mention that it’s terribly expensive for what it is, and we never seemed to eat it before it went stale, leaving me feeling like I was throwing money away. I’d tried making bread in the past, by hand and with the bread machine, but I’d never been pleased with the results. My “handmade” loaves were dense and uneven, and the loaves the machine turned out were strangely shaped and had hard, thick crusts. I don’t know where I came up with the idea to use the bread machine to mix and knead the dough, but then rise it in a regular loaf pan and finish it in the oven. Did I read it? Dream it? Did someone suggest it? Anyway, this was the technique I tried, and voila! Success at last!

I’ve used this method to make “French” bread, dinner rolls, and challah, but most often, I make standard, multi-purpose, everyday bread. My Failproof Bread. Everyone loves this bread, anyone can make it, and it can be used for almost any purpose. This is the bread we eat for toast, sandwiches, hamburger and hotdog “buns,” french toast, bread pudding, bread and butter, and so on. I also give it to friends, bring it to dinner parties, and barter it for food I can’t grow, like fresh milk.

(Warning: this recipe is very, very good, very easy, and not terrifically precise. Work with me, people. I promise, it will be OK.)

Failproof Bread (makes one large loaf)

Ingredients:

♦ one cup hot tap water

♦ several shakes of sea salt (maybe 1/4-1/2 tsp.)

♦ sweetener–here’s where you get creative and personal: anything goes! I’ve used white sugar, dark brown sugar, light brown sugar, maple syrup, and honey–they all work. I most love dark, local maple syrup or fresh golden honey from my friend Sigrid’s bees, but you can choose what works for you. I don’t even measure, really. If I’m using sugar, I pull out a tablespoon (the large spoons that came in my wedding flatware set) and dump in somewhere between 2 and 4 spoonfuls, sometimes heaping, sometimes not. For liquid sweeteners, I just kind of drizzle it in. I would guess that I usually use about 1/8 of a cup, but I’ve gotten closer to 1/4 cup sometimes. That makes a slightly sweeter bread, but the boys in this house don’t mind! The thing about sweetener is that you need it to help the yeast work, but your tastes and commodities at hand can determine the rest.

♦ good sized glug of olive oil–again, mix it up! Technically, you can leave the oil out, but the dough and bread are smoother and softer if you use it. I most often use olive oil, and again, I just glug it in–maybe 1-3 Tbsp. I have also used coconut oil, in about the same quantity, and I bet you could use most any oil–peanut, grapeseed, avocado. The sky’s the limit!

♦ 3 cups of flour–and here I’ll get a bit preachy. I have tried a lot of flour, and there is no doubt in my mind that King Arthur flours are the best. Additionally, you want to use a bread flour–it’s got more of the good gluten-y stuff that helps the bread become bread. But I still mix it up a bit. I usually use 1 and 1/2 or 2 cups of King Arthur unbleached bread flour, and then the remaining 1- 1 and 1/2 cups one or a combination of the following (all King Arthur): bread flour, white whole wheat, whole wheat, rye flour, and Ancient Grains blend. My go-to ratio is 2 c. bread flour, 1 c. white whole wheat.

♦ yeast–again, I don’t really measure. I use the smaller spoons from my wedding set, and add somewhere between 1 level and 1 heaping spoonful. I bake often, so I buy these bricks of yeast and store it in a mason jar in the fridge between uses.

♦ OPTIONAL– I often add one or more of the following: ground flax meal, chia seeds, wheat bran, Italian seasoning, shredded cheese, etc. You can do this, and *you* can determine what you add and how much. Dump it in there before the flour, unless it’s cheese, in which case you should add it after the first rise (see below).

Process:

My bread machine is older than old. Honestly, I’ve had it for over 10 years now, but this is the more recent version of what I use. Any bread maker should work, as long as it has a “Dough” cycle. I add the ingredients to the pan in the order presented, with one exception. After I dump in the flour, I use a spoon to level off the ingredients, then add the yeast.

Then I set my machine to the “Dough” cycle, and turn it on. The machine mixes and kneads for a while (your machine’s User Manual probably tells you how long), then rises briefly, kneads again, then rises for nearly an hour. I watch it during the mixing and kneading phase, to be sure the ingredients are well mixed and forming a ball of dough. Often, I need to add a bit more water (a little at a time, no more than 1/4 cup) to make this happen. In general, a softer, wetter dough makes a nicer loaf than a stiff hard dough, so adding water isn’t a bad thing, as long as your dough isn’t soupy or liquid.

When I’m satisfied that all ingredients are incorporated into the dough ball, I leave it alone. This is the time when I: run a load of laundry, run a load of dishes, supervise some homeschooling, break up a couple fights, walk the dog, zip out to the general store, sweep the floors, eat supper with my family, check my email and Pinterest accounts, scrub the toilet, work on a project in-progress, or some combination of any/all of the above.

When the machine beeps, look in and check out your risen dough. It needs to at least double in size, but I find the bigger it gets, the better. I often leave it in the machine (turned off) for up to twice the rise time, just to get some air in there.

If it looks big enough to you, turn the machine on again, and let the kneading paddle knock down your dough. When it has re-formed itself as a solid dough ball, dump it out on a lightly floured (all-purpose is fine) surface. Double check to make sure your bread maker paddle didn’t exit with your dough (mine does this *all* the time). Gently toss the dough around in the flour until it is no longer sticky. Plop your lump of dough (no need to “shape” it) in a greased loaf pan. Grease it as you choose–I sometimes use butter, sometimes olive oil, and often Pam Baking spray, because it’s easy. Cover the dough with a clean dry dish towel and let it rise in a warm place for 45 minutes, or until at least double in size.

Remove dish towel and bake in a 350° oven for 25 minutes. Check loaf–if it is golden to medium brown all around, remove to wire rack and dump out of loaf pan. If necessary, bake longer, checking every few minutes. Allow to cool before slicing, but not too much, because almost nothing is better than fresh warm homemade bread and butter. I always keep my bread soft by storing it in a large ziplock bag once it is completely cool, but I’m researching other, more environmentally and health friendly options (like these pretty bags from Fresh Eggs Daily).

Either way, if your family is anything like mine, you won’t need to store it for long, if at all. Sometimes, a loaf doesn’t even last a day around here!

those who wait

Tags

44 clovers, fiber art, love, spring, travel, unitarian universalist, weddings

The old adage says that “Good things come to those who wait,” and I don’t always agree. Those who work, yes. Those who strive, yes. It isn’t always the waiting. But sometimes, the stars align and the best things come to those who wait, in all possible ways. We took a little trip this past weekend. When did we last take a mini-vacation with our children, staying in a hotel, dining out, dressing up? Well, never, that’s when. Our getaways have nearly always been brief, frugal, and include sleeping at the homes of friends and relatives. But this time? We did it up right.

We took four days, and just had fun. We tried new foods, and the boys bounced on “fancy” (budget) hotel beds. We laughed ourselves silly, hummed in the car, stretched our legs in empty parking lots, and bought much-needed new shoes for Mama and boys. And on Saturday, a bright, blustery, sunny spring day, we donned our finest for our lovely friend Rachel‘s wedding.

Radiant Rachel waited a long time to find her one true love. But what a sweet reward–Jubal is her best friend, makes her laugh, supports her work and her dreams, and puts a shine in her eyes that makes me glad all over. They pledged their love in a beautiful, personal, intentional ceremony in the loveliest old church, as soft light streamed through the old fan windows and everyone old enough to understand brushed away joyful tears.

The next morning, another good, good thing after a long cold wait–snowdrops blooming beside my mother-in-law’s old farmhouse. Spring is here.