Ashfield Fall Festival

Toss the Ball Canning Ring onto The Pumpkin Stem.

Gosh, I love New England.

mayonnaise

The farm where we get our raw milk also sells grass-fed beef so we picked up a top round on our last milk run. For whatever reason, cooking roast beef has been intimidating to me but with some advice from Andy I went for it and it came out so yummy. We really bought it for the roast beef sandwich potential but I knew that we were out of mayonnaise which is an essential element. I have wanted to make my own because I am concerned, with store-bought mayo, about the quality of the eggs used - they are are no doubt from factory farmed birds - and the oil used is one I try to avoid. I figured that if I made it at home with pastured eggs and olive oil that it would be a health food. Nutritionally dense, right? Right? But it seemed like it might be a pain in the bum so it never became a top priority. But now I was out of mayo and needing it in a big way to properly appreciate my well cared for roast.

I set to work using Alton Brown's Recipe but instead of doing it in a glass bowl I did it in a jar with the whisk attachment on my immersion blender. It was genius even if I am saying so myself. Next time I'll do it in the wide mouth pint jar - I think that will be perfect. I only had the narrow mouth quart at hand and it worked fine but it was tricky to get the oil to trickle while still whisking continuously.

The all-olive oil option is quite a bit grassier than if you use canola or a mixture. I quite like it though it is a bit different if you are used to store-bought mayo. I heard the recommendation of starting with a small amount of Olive Oil and mostly safflower or canola oil and then slowly work to a higher Olive Oil amount. We tried it with some of the meat and handful of tomatoes in what might be one of the last picnic lunches of the year. Success. I'm pleased to have another pantry staple that feel completely do-able to make on my own but I'm still holding out on Ketchup for now.

letting summer go

This summer was difficult. Andy's mom, who had been ill with cancer, was in hospice care and there was lots of travelling back and forth from Massachusetts to Maryland. Sometimes the whole family but mostly Andy going back-and-forth, back-and-forth all summer long. It was difficult for us to find any sort of a workable rhythm and the children were showing the effects of the disruption. There was a lot to deal with both practically and emotionally and it was a challenge to meet everyone's needs. More truthfully, it was a challenge to attempt to meet everyone's needs. In the middle of this we took our family vacation to Cape Cod. The beach usually acts like a salve to help heal us and smooth out the rough bits but after so much upheaval the children were out of sorts and we all just wanted to be at home.

Even though we were graced with beautiful weather we had a bit of a "Summer That Wasn't". There was far to little swimming and picnics and absolutely no camping, canoeing or fishing. We managed to pick strawberries on the last possible day and then just gobbled them up out of hand. We'll have to beg some jam from friends for the winter. The summer just went by too quickly.

Andy's mom passed peacefully in her daughter's home surrounded by family and friends. The beauty of Jewish funeral traditions helped us all to process her death while being supported by friends and family. We miss her so much and often forget that she is not with us in body but only in spirit. I know our sadness is only for us - because we want to spend more time with her, because we wanted another 20 years at least; but she had a beautiful and fulfilled life. She was a hub of community and family, raised two amazing children and was happily married for almost 40 years. She loved and was loved and will be so dearly missed.

I sit here in mid September wondering were my Summer went. Here in New England we really need to make Summer count in a big way if we are going to get through the cold season. I didn't store up enough sunshine this year but I am going to have to make it last. This summer was hard but it was important. It taught us more about love and life and death and family then we knew before. It showed me what an amazing Man, Son, Brother, Husband and Father Andy is and reminded me countless times how proud I am of him and how blessed I am to have him as my partner in life. It brought family closer together and reminded us that a thick slathering of Love helps a lot no matter the problem. And that often Love is all we have to offer and that it is enough.

This was an important summer even if it looked different from most summers and so if there isn't enough jam in the pantry or berries in the freezer we'll deal with in. Right now I am letting Summer go. I've got wool on my needles that is starting to look like a scarf and the wood is stacked. I'm opening my heart to slippers and soup and books by the fire. And tea. I'm going to need a lot of tea.

popover sundress

I finally hopped back onto the sewing train. I had been going through a serious sewing blackout with no known cause, though I think it might have had something to do with my inability to make buttonholes on my machine... For whatever reason I just couldn't get started on any project even with all of the fabric, notions and pattern ready. I needed something that was quick and with almost instant gratification to sort of "pop the clutch" on my sewing so I decided in a late night second wind to try to Oliver + S popover sundress.

I have made the O+S PJs and sailor pants in the past and so I knew that this would be a well rewarded choice. Oliver + S is one of those companies that you thank your lucky stars for when you find them because you know that anything that you purchase from them will be a reliable winner. The popover had the added benefits of being a free PDF pattern that I could print out right away and the right amount of yardage that I had some cottons to choose from in my stash. In these creative slumps you need to strike while the iron is hot. Or in my case - start sewing at 11 pm when the children are in bed, you just drank and iced americano, you have a new album ready to be enjoyed and a random burst of motivation. This was not a start-to-finish crazy sewing spree but I did do much of it that first night and finished the next day during nap time. And I love it. So much.

The length is just below the knee which I really love on children. It is still modest but doesn't get in the way of tree climbing. The A-line cut is loose so it will be cool in the summer and can be played in easily. The straps tie in bows to be completely adjustable which solves the straps-falling-off-constantly issue. I also bought a covered button kit (I really caught on to these late) and made some matching hair ties which was giddily satisfying.

When Miryam was a year and a half I made her a handful of sundresses all with the same pattern and she was able to wear them for two summers. That's the great thing about sun dresses, the girls grow more in length then in width so if you start with the dresses long and a little loose you can get lots of use from them. And is is wonderfully easy for summer dressing - grab some panties, a dress and your sandals. Run a brush through your hair, brush you teeth and you are free.

This dress was just the push I needed to get out of my sewing slump. I have cut out and pinned a huge pile of cloth napkins (because mine walk away when I am not looking) and have them ready to stitch up as soon as I get the children tucked in tonight. Thank goodness because my great ideas have been far outpacing my actual production.

early morning visitor

Last year we were in the morning path of a flock of turkeys* who would walk down our hill and then work really hard to propel themselves into flight into the woods across the road. They were very adorably noisy. Gobble gobble gobble - they each sounded like they were mumbling it under their breath but there were around 15 any given day and that makes for some serious gobbling.

This year they seem to have found another place to take their morning jaunt but we did see this handsome fellow nosing around the garden very early in the morning. He was so loud that Andy had a moment of wondering how we managed to have Loons in our backyard but when we peeked out the window it was this guy. A very nice surprise and the early wake-up gave the added benefit of extra time to read in bed before being prodded by smallfolk to cook some breakfast.

* additional collective noun options for turkey's include "a raffle of turkeys" and "a rafter of turkeys". I'm assuming that is from the sound their feathers make when they pop out? I would like to humbly submit the option "a gobble of turkeys". What do you think?

ask and ye shall receive

This is such a common issue that is is boring to even type the sentence but here it is - I have a hard time asking for things for myself. I really adore being taken care of and appreciated, but I also get embarrassed when a fuss is made about me. Confusing, even for me.

So when my birthday rolls around Andy's mama always asks what she can get for me, could I give her some hints please. On one hand and then the other I feel pleased that she wants to get me something that I would really enjoy and happy that I might be getting something from my mental wish list, but also that I feel a bit greedy giving a list of specific gifts that I would like. I end up being a bit evasive like "oh yes, I'll think about that and write you an email with some ideas when I get a moment" but I don't.

I have this ingrained belief, even though I have intellectually discarded it, that I should be happy that I am getting any gift at all, and count my blessings. That it is somehow impolite to have specific desires for presents. It's so strange, but I know exactly where, in my family, that feeling comes from. As I said, when I think about it head-on it is so silly. What I actually believe is that it is best to give small, wonderful presents of real quality that the person would appreciate and want to keep forever. Or, baring that, something they can eat.

So, I had a little talk with myself and when my birthday rolled around again this year and I was asked for some gift ideas I created a list. And emailed it. Big sigh of relief here. It was a short list - about 6 items - and I tried to spread out the options - 2 books, 2 art prints, 1 kitchen thingy and 1 wearable and a clause that I would, of course, be happy with anything she thought I would like. And, low and behold, a couple of days after my birthday I received a gift in the mail, from my list, and I loved it.

These are the Blossom Measuring Spoons from Beehive Kitchenware. I have been eyeing their goods for over a year and when these new spoons were added I just wanted them so much. I don't usually covet goods like this so I had to take the urge seriously. They are handmade of Pewter and have such a great feel in my hand. I know they will be the last measuring spoons I'll ever need. The first time I used them I just though "someday these are going to be Grandma Gillian's measuring spoons" and I can't tell you how happy that thought made me.

catching up

I realize that I never shared these photos from our Valentine Day crafting. Miryam and I have been doing most of our projects together during Éamonn's nap because he is just so enthusiastic about helping that it's difficult for us to concentrate and feel relaxed while creating. When we sit together during the nap we are trying to be quite so he get a good rest and so the stillness is already there for us to settle into and focus on our own work.

But I also know that getting messy and crafting with some joyful chaos is also important so when we were making our Valentine Garland we made sure to include our boy as well. We got 5 or 6 colors of paints in reds, pinks and cream and covered card stock with lots of paint until it looked, in Miryam's words, "just absolutely perfect". Then we used a heart-shaped cookie cutter to trace hearts on the back of the cardstock which we then cut out, punched a whole in each side and threaded with some cream wool yarn.

little hint about the paint - at a tag sale this past summer I spent about a dollar and went home with about a million of these small terra cotta flower pot saucers that are glazed on the inside with no whole at the bottom. We use them for sorting and such but I've also discovered that they work well as paint dishes. They are very shallow but the diameter is small so the paint doesn't spread around too much and they clean up quite well. Plus, they look really sweet which, to me, is very important when I am attempting to convince myself that taking out the painting supplies is, again in Miryam's words, "an extremely good idea."

the pre-spring slump

unrelated photo of the children bring the kitchen scraps out to the compost

This not-really-winter-or-spring business is a bit hard on me. I've lived in New England for my whole life and I still feel that March really should be spring but, truly, it isn't. March is on the verge - I'm pretty much done with winter but spring isn't quite here yet. I'm done thinking about mittens and hats but not quite ready to start in on dresses and hunting down sandals. I'm not quite sure where I am. I feel like I should be starting the spring cleaning so that as soon as the weather turns, even the slightest bit, we can spend as much time as possible out of doors and because the house is (in this vision...) so organized and tidy. But, the motivation to get that going just isn't there. I am feeling a bit sluggish and out of sorts. I can see what's coming ahead but we're not there yet.

I've been feeling a bit distracted mentally. I've been having a hard time being present and in the moment. I have been generally unmotivated in this liminal space and blogging, and creating in general, has suffered for it. I've been in the mind of "getting stuff done" rather than paying attention to the process. Rushing through chores instead of letting the children help. There doesn't appear to be too much to report but I am sure that is because I am seeing too much forest and not enough trees.

I'm going to try to follow the sunshine a bit and get some photos of what is happening around here, and to share them in this blog, in an attempt to bring my focus to now. I intend to be around more often, using this space to draw my attention in a more vibrant direction.

winter parenting

bundle. unbundle. repeat.

Andy's family down in Maryland is getting hit over and over with more snow that they have seen in decades and up here I can see grass in parts of my yard. They are quite grumpy about it but we are jealous! Snow makes winter worthwhile. Snow is why we have winter. If not for snow, winter would only be naked trees, frigid winds and frozen ground. No romance there. Snow, on the other hand, makes everything seem quiet, tastes good with maple syrup, and convinces hobbit-mama that there is a good reason to bundle the children in layer upon layer of wool knowing full well that she will undo all that work soon enough. (full disclosure here - Miryam puts all her winter clothes on herself though I still help with the zipper)

Thankfully we are expecting a storm coming our way later this afternoon and the schools have closed in anticipation - that is always a good sign. We're off to the art store to stock up on some supplies - some people stock up on toilet paper a milk before a storm - we do an emergency run for paints, glue and stamp-carving pads...

starting February on the right foot

It seems that most people are pretty down on February but I have to say that I quite like the month.

My birthday starts it out on the 1st, which doesn't hurt, and this year Miryam made me a necklace and wrapped it in her own decorated paper and Andy and I were able to sneak away for some Indian food. A great day.

As well as being my birthday the first, or second, of February is the Irish festival of Imbolg. We consider this the very very beginning of spring - optimistic I know - and try to find activities that remind us of the warm weather to come and to tell the sun how much we want it to return to us. We've been looking at seed catalogs and talking about what we learned from our garden last year and what we want to do differently this year. We also make candles to remind us of the sun's light and warmth.

Our local garden shop sells sheets of pressed wax and wicks to roll your own beeswax candles. Miryam was a bit frustrated with the first one - getting them going is tough - but after a couple with my help she was able to the rest on her own while I gave Éamonn his nap. We've been using them for our dinner candles and they are burning quite well. You really have to roll them tightly - too much air in the middle and they'll burn too quickly. You also want the wick to be nice and taught so we start by pushing the wick straight down into the wax and then folding the wax over the wick and pushing that down before the rolling begins.

We also bought one-pound blocks of beeswax from the apiary a few towns over but I think we'll wait until a day when we have papa around before we do anything that includes hot wax!

Of course, candle-making is hungry work so we made some oatcakes and ate them with marmalade. Not a bad start to the month, I'd say.

more hobbit-like pursuits

baby-hobbit burrows under the covers

We haven't quite gotten to the point of eating breakfast, second breakfast and elevenses, but we are spending most of our days inside and planning our activities based on their proximity to the fireplace. Here are some of the things that have kept us occupied...

I finally got my horribly-jammed machine back from the repair man

and am getting my sewing muscles back into shape.

Miryam was given modeling beeswax for hanukkah and worked on this "Pippi Longstocking" for a nice quite half hour. Pippi lived on the ledge proudly for quite a while before she was dismantled for other projects.

Finger paint makes a big come-back

and when in doubt - we take a nice hot bath, preferably with California Baby bubble bath and many many cups

On a side note, Andy's mama just left from a week of visiting with us and in a few hours our friends from France are coming for the week. In the midst of all this I was called to two births in 24 hours so we are filled with some joyous chaos around here. I'm blogging while taking a break from putting new sheets on the beds and washing towels. Luckily all of our guests are looking for a shire-like visit so we can all eat big breakfasts and then lounge around waiting for spring so we can grow things.

portends

If today portends what 2010 will bring, I'll welcome it.

We had friends over for brunch and, because the day so was beautiful, we went out for a run around and some sledding. I have been very hobbit-like this winter - preferring to stay cozy indoors while the wind blows - but I know this isn't very good for my mind or my body. I am not someone who make resolutions but I am resolving to be mindful about getting outside as close to everyday as possible for some play. It's the bundling that takes the effort - once I am out I am quite happy and always try to remind myself how good it feels. Then I bring everyone in for "The Great Unbundling" and I forget.

Today the sun was shining, there was no wind and we had a couple of inches of snow the night before to cover up the hard-packed under layer. These were perfect sledding conditions and we took many runs down the tiny hill that comes down from the garden. Éamonn was given a sled for Solstice and Miryam brought out her kicksled. Éamonn was able to keep his feet up on the footrest so he was able to take many trips down the hill and back and forth across the yard. The seemed to be enjoying himself but had a pretty serious look on his face. Taking it all in, I guess.

Éamonn and Auntie on the kicksled

I'm still dreaming of some adult sized kicksleds so we can take the littles out for a long ride. They make them with little seat belts and even pram-attachments for the littlest of riders. Maybe next year...

the holidays cometh

basket of locally made beeswax candles ready for long winter nights

Miryam was born on the 19th of December 5 years ago. We joked that she was trying to hold out until the solstice but I went on such a beautiful winter walk that day and the moon was in the phase Andy had guessed she would be born in, and we were just so ready for her, that she decided that a couple of days before her plan was just fine. That is sort of her personality too. She makes plans, sometimes very big plans, but she also understands their impermanence.

December 19th is a tricky time to be born if you come from a family that celebrates Christmas, Hanukkah and Solstice. Scheduling issues abound but, even more difficult, it all just blends into one celebration. Which is nice in some ways but often it just feels like a busy two weeks of getting presents and eating food. Not so bad in print but in practice it can lack in relaxation, gratitude and meaning. So this year we have tried to distill what we get (or want to get) out of each holiday and how we plan to celebrate them as a family. Andy and my families of origin are Jewish and Catholic, respectively. We still feel, at least culturally, connected to those traditions in some way and so want to include them in our winter celebrations.

For Christmas we go to my family's house for gift giving, the big tree and a feast. Santa comes to Grandmas house only - this was something we really waffled about when Miryam was smaller but really it came down to the fact that Santa visited Miryam's 4 other cousins and so we weren't sure how to handle him in our family. The man-in-red visiting Grandma's house is our compromise. We honestly try to talk about him as little as possible. We give gifts to my family on this day but the children don't get any from us or vice versa.

During the nights of Hanukkah we light our menorah (note to self: remember to order beeswax candles because every year you forget and no one locally carries them) that was made for us by our dear friends. We talk about the story of Hanukkah and what it represents in our lives. We also give the children a gift each night and eat Latkes at least once during the 8 nights. We always make a big batch using Andy's Bubbie's recipe and we also attempt figure out when our friends are making them and try to get an invite!

Solstice has always been the holiday that feels the most authentic to our lives for Andy and I. Before we had Miryam we had yearly Solstice parties with mulled wine, a big potluck and lots of friends. One year we even made it through the night until we could climb up a local hill that has a panoramic view of our whole Valley. Once Miryam was born that party was supplanted by her birthday celebrations and so Solstice sort of blending into the General Winter Festivities. This year we decided to bring back some of the traditions that were important to Andy and my Solstices together and adapt them into traditions that fit into our lives as they are now. We've decided that I'll knit stockings for each of the children so we can hang them on our mantle filled with small presents both some just fun and others practical (growing up mine always included a new toothbrush). They'll also get a new pair of pajamas to slip into when the sun starts to go down. We'll do the whole of the evening without using electricity (except passively in our refrigerator and well-pump, you know). We'll have some sort of a meal in front of the fireplace, light candles around the house and play with the new toys from the stockings, sing some songs, play some games, read some books. We'll put mattresses down on the floor so we can have a big family bed in front of the fire and snuggle through the longest night.

Now that there is a plan and a vision the season to come seems more exciting than it has in a while. I'm going to hold on to that feeling of glee as long as I can.

bittersweet

Truly, it is the liminal seasons that I like best. Summer is what I wait for, of course, but I the image in my mind might be better than the reality. We have the fleeting moment of late spring, early summer which is just perfect. 70 degrees, sunny, dry and everything is bursting as if reaching out towards July. All the good weather is ahead of us, all the bountiful local food is a few weeks away. Picnics are packed, bicycles are found in the backs of garages and us crazy New Englanders feel as though (if we are standing in the sun, at least) that it might just be warm enough to swim. This is the time of optimism. We pay no mind to the humidity and mosquitos no come. Those are a surprise each year.

Autumn is season of neither-nor, of a time-between, but it comes with none of the innocent optimism of spring. We know, deep in our bones, the cold and snow to come. The first morning we put bare toes down onto cold floorboards we see the months of winter stretching before us and shiver. This creates trouble when attempting to enjoy Autumn, to look forward to it even. There is that day, that bittersweet day when the trees are adorned with color, the sun is bright and still strong but there is the smell of wood stoves in the air. That day is so perfect but there is that feeling of waiting, of knowing what's to come. A bit of worry about how to get through until spring again.

This year, I am determined to look the Snow Queen in the eye and welcome her with a mug of cocoa and a lap blanket. I have new wool socks and I am ready to welcome the sweetness of winter.

halloween bag

The children chose (not that Éamonn had very much imput) to be Thing 1 and Thing 2 this year. I have to say, truth be told, that I have no love for the Cat in the Hat but I'm not wearing the costume so, hey. I am required to sew the costume though and, as usual, I was hand stitching the last bits in the car on the way to my brother's house. We live out there just enough that you might not fill your bag on halloween without trudging a couple of miles. That might be hyperbole, which I am prone to, but I think not. I didn't get any photos but I'll see if Grandma's camera caught any good shots.

I made sure to get a photo of the halloween bag before it went into the basement until next year. I made 4 of these and Miryam gave the others to two of her friends. I had another fabric to make 4 more for other friends but the sewing machine jammed and so the fabric is ready waiting for me to stitch it up next year. Luckily the machine is going into the shop this week - I think it just needs a good cleaning but let's all think some good sewing-machine-repair thoughts, eh? I have my mom's old kenmore which is a workhorse but I really need to make a cover to keep the dust out.

Must respect the Sewing Machine.

snuggles

please pardon the poor iphone photo.

On our most recent trip to Maryland we left, as usual, at night so the children would snooze on the way home. Unfortunately Éamonn hit a big wall emotionally at around 11 pm and we decided, with 4 hours of driving ahead of us, that it would be more humane for all of us to get a last minute hotel room and go to sleep in a proper bed. The littles were both so exhausted that they were sleeping within moments of crawling into the bed.

They don't, generally, sleep in the same bed because they might never sleep, so I've never had the opportunity to see them snuggle so much. I love the chubby hand at rest, the sweaty brows, the pouty lips, the rosy cheeks. Miryam has always wished that she and Éamonn were twins, and snuggled in that bed they look as though they might have willingly shared a womb.

in the orchard

Though I am always seek to creating more rhythm in our family, when I look to the food and farm based activities that we do each year I am pleased to see that we have a clear sense of the agricultural rhythm in our area. We can remember when things happen, or have happened, based what was growing, what we were eating. Miryam knows when her friend will turn a year older because she was born "when the strawberries are ripe". Papa goes back to teaching when the apples are on the trees. The corn doesn't come until we have been swimming for a while. We are not purist about eating only what is in season but there are certain foods - tomatoes, corn on the cob, berries and the like - that we truly only eat when we can get them at the farmer's market or a farm stand. Once you really know tomatoes unless they are in season you can bear to eat them fresh. Corn has to be eaten the very day it was picked. I've heard that some people take a campstove with a cooking pot of water, heat it to a boil and then pick, shuck and cook the corn within moments of harvest. I can relate. Corn that fresh is good raw and really only needs to be steamed for about 2 minutes to make it hot enough for butter to melt on it.



This year, due to unexpected travel and too much rain, we missed strawberry picking. This also means that we missed strawberry jam-making which feels a bit traumatic. Lots of people have complained about what an off summer we had. Very cool and wet and then straight to a short burst of hot and humid - everything was damp. It does feel a bit like summer was snuck by us when we weren't looking, and missing strawberry picking feels a bit like we lost the month of June. Oops! It's a bit disconcerting and now it is a whole year until we can give it another try. I guess we better figure out marmalade.



That is all a long way of saying that because we missed strawberries we needed to make up our seasonal balance by picking an obscene amount of apples. We were tipped of by a friend that our state college has a test orchard a few towns away that has over 100 varieties of apples. The views were stunning and the area we were sent to pick in was filled with a mix of varieties, all but a handful were new to us and some of them, we were told, were so new that they didn't even have names yet just I.D. numbers. We were encouraged to takes bite of whatever we wanted to see how they were. It was really enlightening eating so many apples in such quick succession. Though I was aware that there was a vast variety of flavors and textures across the apple world but I was actually amazes at how stark the differences could be. We were completely paperless that day but next year I'd like to write down some of our favorites. We got a bunch of all of them and mixed them together in a sauce to eat over the winter. I have never succeeded in canning enough apple sauce to get through the year but seeing the rows of jars, I might just make it.

what a crock of pickles

sorry, but I relish the pun. oh dear...

I've wanted to make proper lacto-fermented pickles for a couple of years now but hadn't made the leap until this past week. Partially this is because I am lucky enough to have Real Pickles local and available at my Co-op. Also, though it took me a while to realize this, I was held back by the lack of a proper fermenting crock. Now, I know you can make pickles in a jar or even a food-grade plastic bucket but I have this, some might say endearing, need to have projects look a certain way. Cooking should be done with the right apron, oatmeal should be stirred with the right spoon, picnics should be on the right blanket. It's not a need to buy things - truly the things that are right are often hand-made - it's a need to have the tools that have the right soul to do the job, if that makes any sense. It's as if the children will sleep better if they are under a blanket I knit, the water will taste colder if it is poured from a pitcher I bought from a potter at a local fair, and the pickles will ferment best if in the right crock. I think part of what held me back from trying to make them was the lack of the right vessel. Like it or not, silly or wise, I just could not get excited about a plastic bucket of pickles. The ceramic crocks are expensive and heavy so the shipping is beastly. So I continued to buy pickles.

This last week two wonderful things coincided; my pickling cukes started to flourish in the garden and I was gifted my dream pickling crock. This clay pot belong to a friend who Andy and I used to live with. I always loved it and when she asked if I wanted it because she was trying to clear out the house a bit I was so pleased. I did, however, have a moment of remorse while driving home wondering if I was was taking clutter from someone else's house into my own. Would this just be a "pretty" collecting dust or could I make use of it? I put it on the shelf and then went out to survey the garden.

The pieces clicked mentally into place. It was a crock. A big crock. With a wide mouth and a lid. Hello pickles!

I used the method outlined in Wild Fermentation and they came out so well. I weighed a plate down with a boiled rock (which Miryam loved "um...mama...are you cooking a stone?") to keep the pickles under the surface of the brine and in a week we started eating them. Made my own cukes, with local garlic and dill - they are so tasty and I am so proud. Andy had some friends over to play cards and they ate them along with their beer. I knew that pickle making was simple but I was actually quite amazed at such stellar results from something so dead easy. If you haven't given it a try, get some pickling cucumbers while you can and make some pickles.

green tomato relish

This is one of those "making lemonade out of lemmons" sort of situations, though specifically we were "making relish out of green tomatoes".

We are a tomato family. At one point in our courtship Andy and I came to the consensus that winter tomatoes were just. not. worth. it. and we never really bought them after that. Canned tomatoes are lovely and in a pinch I can find some cherry tomatoes worth eating in december but, truly, we eat fresh tomatoes locally and in season. The Connecticut River Valley has wonderfully fertile soil and we grow very yummy vegetables (and apparently top of the line tobacco for cigars, but that's another story). Tomatoes, in season, around here are amazing. There are so many heirloom varieties to choose from and one local CSA farm even has a festival in their honor each August with tastings and canning demonstrations.

Really spectacular tomatoes, however, are not cheap. They start out the season at around $5.50 a pound and slowly go down from there. We eat so many that we try to grow a few plants each year to help offset the tomato fund. In the past, other than the year we had a community garden plot, these have been mild successes grown in containers. This year, with plenty of garden space, we planted an ambitious 23 plants. Visions of capri salads, tomato sandwiches and a pantry with row upon row of sauce-filled jars danced in our heads...

Nope. We got tomato blight (think potato blight. think irish famine. same fungus) just like most of the tomato growers around here. It was so sad ripping out all the plants but we were determined to make the most of it so I looked through my files and found this recipe from Farmgirl Fare I had wanted to try. I made it, it was delicious. We thanked the Gods of Abundance that we would have something tomato in the pantry and we canned 10 half pints of it. There was a bit left over which we enjoyed on some burritos. Highly recommended.

It's still a disappointment to look out the kitchen window and see the big whole in the garden landscape. I am proud, however that we were able to make do and make something we might now have made otherwise but really enjoyed.

feverish

Éamonn had a mild fever this morning and was very clingly so I put him on my back and did house work to keep moving and lull him to sleep. My floors are nicely swept and the laundry is all folded but having a hundred-degree baby sweatily sleeping on your back while you dash around tidying up on a humid August day is hot.

After the nap Miryam joined us for a cool bath and with ice cubes to keep us from completely melting into the woodfloors. It felt like floating in a glass of ice water, thank goodness.