Blowing My Own Horn?

The ukulele wasn't my first instrument. Back when I was in junior high, I joined the band. My older sister was also a member of the band, and she played clarinet. I wanted to play the flute, but at my school, we all had to purchase our own instruments - except for those students who chose really big instruments, like the kettle drum. Unfortunately, my parents couldn't afford to purchase a flute for me, and because my older sister had two instruments, I opted to also play the clarinet, and she gave me one of hers.

I kept my clarinet with me through all of the years and all of my moves. Unfortunately, it wasn't always stored very well, and while I've taken it in one other time to have some pads and corks replaced, I hadn't done much in the way of taking care of it. Over the years, it deteriorated to the point that it was no longer playable.

We decided to have my clarinet repaired, and there's just nothing quite like the muscle memory returning as I play the chromatic scale.

Like riding a bicycle ....



And we bought a new case, too, as the old one was mildewed.

I'm very excited and looking forward to some band time with my family.

Some Things I Believe; Some Things I Just Know

I know better than to respond to some people, because willful ignorance is just such a tedious thing, but sometimes, I just can't help myself. I can't. I don't know why I care to bother, but I do, and I can't just not say something, and so I do, and I always always end up beating my head against the close-mindedness.

How does one argue with a person who says, and I kid you not "God put that oil there for us to use and He wants us to take it all." I mean, wow! I cannot imagine having such a strong sense of entitlement. It must be nice there in oblivious land.

Please note that I am not making fun of anyone's religion here. I am not making fun. In fact, I don't think it's funny, but incredibly sad, and frightening, actually, to note that there are people in this world who believe that God has chosen this time and this place to give people all of His best treasures, and that the whole of mankind before and after this very brief century or so is not worthy of His gifts. Seriously? What in the hell did we, 20th and 21st Centurions, do, exactly, to deserve this honor?

Worse, though, is that it's not just those of us living in this previous and current centuries, but only in certain parts of the world. Why should Americans and Europeans be singled out and privileged? There are plenty of "Christian" nations out there that don't have nearly the affluent lives most Americans and Europeans enjoy. Heck, Namibia, Angola, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and Zambia are 90% to 100% Christian compared to the US, which is less than 80% Christian. In Angola, 40% of the population lives below the poverty level, only 50% of the population has access to safe drinking water and sanitation, and the life expectancy is 51 years. Compare that to the US where less than 1% of our population falls below the poverty level, nearly 100% of us have access to (presumed) clean drinking water and sanitary waste disposal, and the life expectancy is 77. As such, I will assert that in that very Christian nation it seems that God has chosen not to reward them with earthly wealth in the same way that He has bestowed His abundant blessings on the US.

Seems kind of ... unfair ... actually, but that's not the point, because I won't pretend to know the rationale behind the actions of the Supreme Being, but I will say that in my observations, God (as evidenced by His "creation", i.e. nature) is not always kind, but He is always fair, and giving one group of people an abundance, but on the other side of the world, impoverishing people is not the hand of God, but something else altogether.

Given those kinds of facts - i.e. the way the rest of the world lives compared to the way the US lives, I have a really hard time with people who just refuse to believe anything other than what allows them to keep their simple, little closed minds free of guilt and the baggage that comes from owning the fact that we are all only a part (and not the most important part, either) of a greater whole. In short, there's a whole big world out there, and we're part of it, but it doesn't revolve around us ... not any of us ... not even the President of the United States. He's one person, and not nearly as important or powerful as we (the citizens of his country) like to think.

I usually avoid people like that, and I usually just shake my head and move along - nothing to see here. This time, I should have known better, but I didn't, and I responded to a rant that was another attempt by this person I know to debunk the whole Global Warming theory. This person refuses to believe in global warming (and bandies about comments like, "Blizzard this week. Where's that global warming again?") and continually asserts that it is merely a liberal conspiracy designed to force us all to accept government-enforced austerity measures. The commentaries usually run along the lines of the liberal government (currently headed by Obama, who is evil incarnate, right?) is feeding us this line so that they can take away our cars and force us to stop using electricity, thereby thrusting us back into the Dark Ages where we'll be forced to live in caves, eat dirt, and use the nearest leaf while toileting.

The problem is that global warming isn't a religion. One doesn't believe in or not believe in global warming. It's fact.

One only has to look at the data. Over the last hundred years, there has been an increase in average annual temperatures, and between the years of 2000 and 2009, the US logged the hottest decade on record. Yes, there were some cooler years, but overall the trend has been warming.

Add to that the USDA's update of their hardiness zone map. As a gardener, the difference is stark, and I've been noticing. My seasons start earlier (tapping maple trees in January? Really?) and seem to be going longer (harvesting tomatoes from my garden in October? What?). And peaches grow in Maine, now. In 2006, I had a peach tree in my yard that I was going to cut down, because it wasn't terribly productive, and I was assured that if I were getting any peaches - at all - that was a productive tree, because peaches don't grow in Maine. Fact is, they do. There's a peach orchard not far from where I live, and I've enjoyed home-canned-from-local-peaches for the past three years. But the general consensus is still that peaches don't grow in Maine, because it is too cold, and in some parts of Maine, it's true. Peaches won't grow, because the winter will kill the tree, but that's becoming less true in the southern and coastal parts of the state.

So, to say that one doesn't believe in global warming is to remain willfully ignorant of what is happening outside, in the REAL world, the world that is comprised of budding plants and squirrel babies and butterfly larvae. Trees are budding earlier, the dandelions are already forming seed heads, the Japanese knotweed is already past harvest time, the garlic is six inches tall already, and I've started planting my garden - outside in the ground. These things were unheard of when I moved to Maine - only sixteen years ago, and I was advised by natives to wait until Memorial Day to plant - advice, which five years ago, meant I didn't harvest any peas, because I waited too long, and it got too hot for the cold-loving legumes.

People are growing peaches in Maine, and maybe that's not a bad thing. Maybe, in a few more years, we'll be growing peanuts, which are a warm-climate plant. It will be a wonderful thing for us, Maine, gardeners, but if we're growing less cold hardy plants in Maine, because it's getting warmer here, it will also be getting warmer where those plants are currently growing, and might it get too warm for them? Might it get too warm to grow much of anything, including people?

The problem with the global warming argument is that people tend to get bogged down playing the blame game, and it's that mindset that keeps people from taking that next step. These people don't want to give up their fossil fuels (most often blamed for the increase in greenhouse gases, which is what is believed to be causing the warming trend), because cars and Sunday night football are essential to good living. The people who deny global warming are the people who can't imagine how they would survive if they didn't have unlimited, cheap energy.

And I say, I don't care who or what they believe caused the warming trend, the data shows that it has been and is happening. The earth is getting warmer.

For me the biggest problem is not "Whodunit?" We already know it's happening, and it's too late to start trying to stop it. At this point, much research suggests that we've passed the point-of-no-return, and we're hurtling head-long into TEOTWAWKI. No, the world isn't going to end (probably), but we do need to start figuring out how we're going to survive in a world in which peanuts and peaches grow in Maine, and the average daily temperature in Georgia during the summer is too hot for people to live there.

Lemonade

The story starts last week.

I had spent the morning running errands. In the afternoon, I had one more errand that I needed to run, and when I got into the car to go, the car wouldn't. It just wouldn't even start. So, we had it towed to a fix-it place, and they kept it there for a couple of days, figuring out what was wrong. At the time, my comment was that if I had to be stranded somewhere with a car that wouldn't start, I felt fortunate that it was at home.

When the repairs were completed (many hundreds of dollars later), we picked up the car and drove home, but about a mile from our front door, I noticed steam rising from the hood. Deus Ex Machina diagnosed a radiator problem. We called the repair shop and arranged to have them look at this new development. A few more hundred dollars later, we had a car, old, but operational ... or so we thought.

Fast-forward a week, and Deus Ex Machina is out of town, and I'm transporting our daughters to their dance classes. We stop at a coffee shop that's between our house and the dance school, but when we get back into the car to drive the rest of the way to the dance school, the car won't start. I turn the key, all of the lights on the dashboard light up, I hear a click, but nothing else happens.

The people in the coffee shop are very kind and allow us to use their phone. A friend from the dance school comes to get us. Once at the dance school, I arrange for a ride home, and at home, I contact my insurance company (we have road-side service) to arrange for a tow. BUT, I have to be with the car when the tow-truck driver arrives.

And so, I get a ride back out to the coffee shop, where my car has been sitting all morning. When we arrive, I try to start the car, and it does.

It could have been an incredibly stressful situation, but it wasn't, and I learned a wonderful thing today. I discovered what an amazing network of friends and family I have - people who are willing to simply drop whatever they're doing and help me.

It has been a very humbling realization, and it was a wonderful gift from the Universe.

I am blessed ... so very blessed.

And my daughters are making lemonade with their friend as I type ;).

Many Mini German Pancakes

Deus Ex Machina tagged me on Facebook this morning with a recipe for Mini German Pancakes. German pancakes are a favorite food around here. Heck, who am I kidding? Pancakes, regardless of the nationality, are a favorite food, but what's nice about German pancakes is they can be dressed up with apples (and usually are) and they're cooked in the oven ... although I've used the thin batter to make crepes, too (Ha! French-style German pancakes).

The other great thing is that the batter is mostly egg, which is awesome right now with how generous our chickens are being.

A basic ingredients for German pancakes is:

1 c flour
6 eggs
1 c milk
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 c butter (melted)

The recipe I used for the mini pancakes also had orange zest, which I omitted.

The instructions were to mix the ingredients (everything but the melted butter first, beating until smooth, and then add the butter while stirring the batter, fill greased muffin cups to about half-full, and bake for 15 minutes (or until the pancakes are puffy and golden brown) in a 400° oven.

Big Little Sister likes them with strawberry jam. I liked mine with foraged-blackberry jam and a drizzle of maple syrup, but I'm thinking, I could use this same principle to make tiny quiches. I could even use the same batter (maybe omitting the vanilla) and top it with taco meat and cheese for a savory meal.

We're planning to make flour from our Jerusalem artichoke harvest. I'm excited to see how Mini German pancakes taste using Jerusalem artichoke flour ... or maybe acorn flour.

The possibilities are exciting!

Bountiful Sunday

I usually like to sleep-in on Sundays. The rest of the week is so full of things to do, and Sunday is that one day of the week when we don't, usually, schedule things. It's the one day of the week when stuff around the house gets done.

This morning, I got up a bit earlier than I usually do on Sunday. The sun was bright, and I knew it was going to be a laundry day. I wanted to get up and get some clothes on the line. Deus Ex Machina had already gotten out of bed to feed the dogs, and he was having a cup of coffee and enjoy the quiet of our sleeping house, reading a book.

I joined him in the living room with my cup of tea, and we chatted quietly about what we wanted to accomplish this day.

Cutting down the neighbor's two spruce trees was priority number one.

We waited until the girls got up, and then headed outside to get started. There was a SNAFU with the chainsaw, and while Deus Ex Machina was working on that problem, Little Fire Faery, Precious and I filled some plant pots with dirt and planted some seeds to put in the greenhouse: basil, cumin, and spinach. The broccoli, lettuce, and nasturtiums for sprouts in there are growing beautifully.

I gave some edible flower seeds to Little Fire Faery and Precious, and they scattered them under the beehives. I can't wait until the middle of the summer when the flowers are in full bloom and buzzing with life as the bees harvest the pollen.

Once the chainsaw was working again, Deus Ex Machina got to work on the trees. He cut, and we helped by hauling away the limbs, and then, putting the logs in the wagon so they could be stacked to dry for next winter.

After we took care of the trees, I made some egg sandwiches for lunch, and then, we headed back outside.

The next project was to move the garden bed and dig up the Jerusalem artichokes. We harvested almost 50 lbs of Jerusalem artichokes, which is pretty incredible, considering it's an almost feral plant. We plant the bulbs, but then, pretty much ignore it until the next harvest. The plan is to clean the roots, slice them thin, dehydrate them and grind them into flour for things like pancakes or crepes.

We replanted a few of the bulbs and transplanted the asparagus we'd unearthed from the Jerusalem artichoke harvest.

Then, Big Little Sister and Little Fire Faery chose their garden beds for the year. Big Little Sister planted peas and carrots in her bed. Little Fire Faery transplanted some bee balm into hers and has plans for growing a bed full of nasturtiums - which are her favorite plant to grow ... I may have to take her seed shopping at some point.

We spent the whole day outside, working together as a family, and enjoying our beautiful space.

It has been such an incredible day, and I'm so thankful for every single second.

Home, Sweet, Home

There was a time - in the not too distant past - when I used to host playdates and get-togethers at my house. It was a fairly regular occurrence to have three or four Moms with kids in tow at my house. We'd sit and chat while the kids played. It was always a wonderful time.

The hours before they arrived, however, were not always so wonderful. There was a flurry of washing, sweeping, and mopping, and an attempt to stow (i.e. hide) six people's worth of stuff somewhere in a house that was built for two (literally) with no closets, no attic, no basement, no garage, and no general storage areas. Heck, there aren't even any drawers in the kitchen.

I always thought that I did a good job of cleaning things up.

And then, one day, we had one of the kids over, because his mom needed to work for a few hours and needed a babysitter. This four year old boy walked into my house and said, "Your house is messy." The kid's mom was a housekeeper, and so I assumed that she must, just, keep their house very spotless, as it was her vocation to clean houses, and that his observation was more to do with the way he lived than any failing on my part. I mean, it's like the child of a master chef telling me that my cooking is bad. When he is accustomed to gourmet foods, of course my over-salted culinary foibles are going to pale by comparison.

My logic mind told me that I couldn't compete and that I wasn't a bad housekeeper, but his comment still weighed heavily. I worried, because if this five year old is saying this stuff outloud, what must his mother ... or the other women in the Mom's Group ... be thinking? No, I don't have a clutter-free, Better-Homes-And-Gardens house (or yard). I live here. I work here. I'm here twenty hours per day, seven days per week. But I had (apparently, mistakenly) thought that my house was passably clean and tidy.

Whether by design or accident, it wasn't long after that incident that I stopped having regular get-togethers at my house. Mostly, I think, it was that the kids were getting older. Deus Ex Machina and I had chosen to homeschool, but most of the other kids in the playgroup were heading to preschool or kindergarten, and so we, Moms, just found less and less opportunity (or need?) to have playdates.

But it's not one of those things that lets go - that idea that one needs to live in a showplace for when guests arrive, and while I stopped having weekly get-togethers at my house, I still, occasionally, entertained friends and family. The hours (sometimes DAYS) leading up to a party at our house would be a flurry of activity, occasionally accompanied by some yelling and cursing.

It's not that I didn't try (with some varying degree of success) to keep the house in some semblance of order all of the time, but rather that we live here, and because we homeschool, and I work from home, we LIVE here in a way that many Americans do not. That is, for twenty hours per day, seven days per week, 365 days per year, there is someone IN my house. We are home - more often than we are not. And with three dogs and a cat, who live inside and have free rein, even when we aren't here, there's often a party happening.

Contrary to that young boy's off-the-cuff remark, my house is not messy, but it is, most definitely, and without an argument, lived-in.

At some point, the commentary in my head changed to accommodate that fact, and I stopped worrying about a four-year-old's opinion of my (lack of) housekeeping skill. The new commentary said, "I live on a working farm," which meant that some degree of (what some might consider) messiness had to, by necessity, be acceptable. There would be a bushel of apples in a box on the kitchen floor waiting to be processed into sauce or cider. There would be various brews in buckets and carboys and gallon-sized jars fermenting. In the spring, there would be baby chicks in a brooder in my living room. There are bookshelves lining every wall and overflowing with stories and how-to's. There are clothes, fresh from the line outside, that need to be folded and put away. There are musical instruments hanging on walls. We live here, and life is messy.

I was so thrilled, in reading Sharon Astyk's new book, Making Home, to note that she says the same thing. She says that she used to worry about the way her house looked to visitors, because, while it wasn't something one might see in some glitzy magazine layout of what we believe is the perfect home, it had its beauty, and the beauty was in the functionality. The beauty was the fact that a real, breathing, playing, laughing, loving, LIVING family lived there ... really, honestly, and completely lived in that space.

It's nice to be validated.

And, Sharon, if you ever do decide to put together Better Homes and Ratholes, I have one of the latter, in the suburbs of Southern Maine that would be a perfect show place ;).

We Got ...

The garlic I planted in the fall is growing. I grew enough garlic in a 4'x 4' bed last year that I still haven't bought garlic ... and I still have a lot left.



I picked up our first ten baby chicks today. We'll raise a total of forty over the whole summer - ten at a time. These are Cornish X, and whatever people say, whatever the complaint, for us, because we have such a limited area in which to grow them, the Cornish X, which only need eight to ten weeks to reach maturity, are our best choice. Forty chickens will give us enough chicken for the whole year.



Some measure wealth in dollars or gold or jewels or a big house and a fancy car. I measure wealth in the ability to feed my family, in being able to sustain ourselves - even if money gets scarce. And by that measure, we are rich ... indeed.