Getting lost goatwalking

I got lost today while out goatwalking.  It was a frightening feeling, and a good reminder for me.

I started off planning to go to a meadow just across the road, where the wild blueberries are thick on the ground.  After an hour of picking these, I decided to cross the adjacent swamp and check on the wild blackcurrants.  Then, once across the swamp, I got distracted by a clump of huckleberries I'd never noticed before.  Still distracted, looking for more huckleberries, I took a different way back, through the forest.

I'd gone quite a way when I realized that nothing looked familiar.  The landscape here is all hills and hollows, with lots of swampy ground between the hills, and it's very easy to wander off-track.  I kept going; still, nothing was familiar.  It suddenly became clear to me that I was out in the forest with no compass, no matches, no rain gear, no whistle, and no-one knowing which direction I'd gone.  How stupid I had been!

I stood still and looked for the sun through the trees.  It wasn't where I thought it would be; in fact, I'd been completely turned around.  I watched the sun until I could tell which way it was moving.  The time was around noon, so now I know roughly which direction was northwest and I headed that way, knowing that if I kept going that direction, I would eventually reach the road.

In just a few minutes, with a feeling of great relief, I found the meadow where I'd started out.

It's quite likely that the goats knew exactly which way to go and would have led me home at milking time.  However, it was a scary feeling knowing that I was lost without supplies.  As I said, it was a reminder to me not to be so complacent and to pay more attention to what I'm doing when I'm in the forest.

Laundry

We've been having a very busy summer.  We spent the long weekend at the Clinton War, which is a mediaeval war that is held near here every year.  This was the 32nd war.  Charles is a heavy fighter (sword and shield) and it's one of the highlights of our summer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gQRNuImRdHk

When we got home, there was a huge pile of laundry to be done, so I put my laundry service to work.

Morning cooking

Heating, cooking, and drying things all at once

This time of year, our house can get to be too hot by mid-afternoon, and stay too hot for a comfortable sleep early in the night.  By morning, it's always lovely and cool, because our altitude causes a dramatic temperature drop overnight.  We hate to lose our blissfully cool interior,  so we try to keep our cookstove use to an absolute minimum. 

I'm usually the first one up in the morning.  I light a fire to heat hot water for the day.  While the fire is going, I try to do as much as I can.  First, of course, I make coffee.  Then, I cook whatever I can for the day: things that can be eaten cold later, like potatoes for salad, or a roast for sandwiches.  By that time, the oven is hot and I can put a loaf of bread in if necessary and let the fire burn out.  The hot water can be used for dishes and bathing, then refilled so the dying fire can heat more for the rest of the day.

In the evening, we use a barbeque, outdoor cookstove, or propane stove to do any cooking that still needs to be done, like a steak or chop.  In a really hot spell (which doesn't usually last very long here), we use the outdoor stove or propane for water, too, but that's a lot more work.

Lazy Marion's winemaking basics

racking the saskatoon/rhubarb wine

Although my wines turn out well, I really don't know much about winemaking.  I don't think it's necessary to know a lot because I'm not the one making the wine.  The yeast is the winemaker.  All I need to do is give the yeast a good home and let it do its thing, then enjoy the results.

Yeast likes the same kind of juice that people do: sweet, with a bit of a tang.  It likes the same kind of temperatures we do, too, warm but not too hot.  It lives in the juice, swimming around eating sugar and producing carbon dioxide and alcohol.  When the alcohol level in the juice gets too high, or if it runs out of sugar to eat, it dies.  That is, basically, all you need to know.

If your juice doesn't contain enough sugars, the yeast will starve before it produces much alcohol.  If there's really a lot of sugar, the yeast will die of alcohol poisoning before finishing it and you'll have a sweet wine.

If the juice gets too hot, the yeast dies.  If it gets too cool, however, the yeast goes dormant and it will wake up again when things warm up.

If you bottle your wine before the yeast has died, it will continue to work in the bottle.  Since the carbon dioxide it produces can't escape, you'll end up with a fizzy wine.

Wine is usually protected from contact with the air so that bacteria and yeasts that are not tasty are excluded from joining the party.  You do this by putting the juice into a container with an airlock.  The carbon dioxide can bubble out, but air can't get in.  When no bubbles are being produced, it means the yeast is finished and it's time to bottle the wine.

Right now, with all the bubbling going on in my house, it sounds like a mad scientist's lab.

Left to right: rhubarb, rhub/saskatoon, last year's rosehip, dandelion

Chick update

Charlie on watch, with the chicks nearby

There are still seven chicks living near the house.  Charlie has done a good job.  When the chicks were two months old, their mother abruptly abandoned them.  Usually, a mother hen will start roosting when her chicks are that age, but because they all live together in the barn, the little ones can still be near her.  This hen moved back into the barn, but her chicks stayed at their pen beside the house, so they are completely on their own.

Well, not quite on their own.  Obviously, they don't feel totally independent yet, because they've taken to sleeping in a huddle right beside Charlie's evening resting spot on the porch.  It's pretty cute to see him there with his chicks when I walk out the door.  We'll let them do this for a while more, because thate's still a danger from the ravens, but then we'll start herding them over to the barn.  We really don't enjoy having chicken shit around the porch.

Garlic scapes

The garlic plants in the garden are sending up flower stalks.  These are known as "scapes", and their thickness generally reflects the size of the bulb below the ground.

Luckily, the scapes should be removed so that the garlic plant puts its energy into bulb production.  I say, "luckily" because they are delicious.  You just snap off about of foot of the stems and cook them; they have a flavour similar to that of green beans cooked in garlic.  My favourite way of cooking them is this:

• Remove the tips from the scapes.  Drop them into boiling water and cook them for 2 or 3 minutes, then drain them.
• Heat a bit of oil in a frying pan and fry the scapes quickly for a few minutes.  Add a sprinkle of brown sugar, a splash of soy sauce, some chili pepper, and a drizzle of sesame oil.  If you like the flavour, add some Thai fish sauce, too, or a slice of fresh ginger.  Cook till they are nicely browned and serve hot or chilled.

Sounds and smells

I just got home from a week in the big city, where I went to visit family and friends.  I enjoyed my trip.  I don't generally feel the need for a break, since my life is one long break, but once in a while, it is nice to experience the good things city life has to offer.  I went out for sushi and Indian food, for example, and I got to go to life drawing every day, which is a big treat for me!

When I returned, I found home to be as beautiful as it always is.  The wildflowers are at their peak, with the wild roses putting on a spectacular show along the roadsides (but not in front of our place, where the goats eat them all) and more tiger lillies than I've ever seen before.  The wild strawberries are ripe now, so I can eat handfuls while the goats are browsing.

I've been considering what I love most about the place I live and I've decided that there are two things that really stand out:  the sounds, and the smells.  In the city, there are good things to eat and fun things to do, but the sounds and smells are vastly inferior to what I have at home.

Here, when I step outside, there ae lots of noises, but hardly any are mechanical.  I hear the wind in the trees, the sound of running water, birdsong, the humming of insects, and the voices of everyone living on our farm: goats, sheep, chickens, dogs, husband.  Two or three times a day, a car drives by, and sometimes we listen to a radio, but mostly, I hear natural sounds.

The smells are even better.  Much of the time, we take the smells around us for granted, but I really notice them after suffering city smells for a while.  The air is so fresh here, and I've learned to use my nose more than I ever used to.  The flowers are fragrant, of course, but all the plant life, the earth, and the moisture in the air contribute something.  Even with eyes and ears closed, I can take a whiff of air and tell the time of day, the weather, and the season, as well as which animals are nearby.  It's the best part of rural life for me.