Sugar Snaps

Sugar Snaps grow only during the spring and sporadically during the winter here. We get too hot to have a long growing season with delicate pea plants, lettuces, broccoli, and carrots. We have been in the 80's this week which means my precious peas won't last much longer, but this week we are enjoying this fantastically crisp and sweet treat in abundance.

We like them barely cooked, either steamed or sautéed with some sesame seeds. Last night, I was home alone and I threw a few into my pasta water at the last second, then added some Parmesan. Of course, when I was picking my supper, I popped a few into my mouth right off the vine. I have caught my children, on several occasions, standing suspiciously at the raised beds containing the pea plants and the carrots. Yet, I can't get upset because I can't think of a more healthy snack.

Sugar snaps, or at least these, claim they don't need staking, but I find that everything does better with a little support. These are growing on pieces of cattle panel braced by some triangular tomato cages and have grown to about four feet tall. Since they aren't touching the ground, the heavy rains haven't harmed the blooms or rotted the peas. If I could just control the heat, I could have wonderful peas all through the summer. I bet they wouldn't seem so special if I could have them all summer long.

In the Pastures

We have started our annual battle with thistle. Honestly, I think thistle is pretty, but when your hayfield is inundated the beauty begins to fade. This year we are trying a clove oil spray early in the season, and will resort to digging and bagging, as is our usual, when it begins flowering.

Driving through the pasture on a tractor with a trailer sprayer full of Round-Up would be much easier, but farming organically doesn't allow such nonsense. The whole family walked and sprayed together. Sounds like torture, but really it was a lot of fun. The weather was nice and it felt good to be out of the house and doing something productive. The weed-killer smells like that old Clove Gum which is a lot better than that harsh chemical smell. Do they make that anymore? I haven't thought about that gum in a long, long time.

I quit chewing gum all together about a year ago. The artificial flavors, colors, and sweeteners (sugar-free varieties) left the smacking less palatable. I used to get great enjoyment out of gum. In fact, I frequently got carried away, masticating wildly, so I resorted to chewing gum in private at my mother's behest. More people should think about chewing gum privately. There is one incredibly cute college age girl in town who smacks like there is no tomorrow. I must be turning into my mother because that smacking drives me crazy. I can't help staring in awe as that gaping maw works that gum.

All that said, if I had a piece of that old fashioned clove gum that I haven't seen in years, I would probably pop it into my mouth, artificial junk and all.

In the Rye

This is Dusty. Dusty isn't his real name, but his real name is really weird (Spanish Straw DJ) so when we bought this horse for K, we asked him what he wanted to call him and Dusty became Dusty. True, changing an animal's name after 20 years seems mean, but the horse is smart and never missed a beat. I think he hated the other name. The horse comes up to the gate when you call, especially if you have a feed scoop in your hand, so I'm thinking he made the transition without any lasting crisis of self image.

Dusty is an old show horse, which is what you want for your young cowboy in training. The idea is to get a horse who knows more about showing than the child, then you just plop the child on the horse and blue ribbons start falling out of the sky. We had no intention of showing when we purchased the horse, but we did want a calm ride who knew a thing or two. We got that plus a few extras. One of Dusty's selling points was that if you got drunk on the Dixie National Trail Ride and lost your seat, the horse would stop, wait as long as it took for you to regain the saddle, then mosey on down the trail and get you to the next stop. We haven't tried this, but if he throws you, he won't run. The crazy old coot will stand there, patiently, until you dust your britches and remount.

That brings me to one of Dusty's unadvertised and not so positive traits. He can lose a rider in 10 seconds or less if the rider delivers a miscue. With vocal signals, if you kiss when you should click or vise-versa, you get the stop and duck. With rein and leg signals, if you lift and tap, rather than lift and squeeze you get the ouster. If you tap too many times you will be sent sailing. In fact this training tool is one of the reasons K doesn't train anymore. Besides that quirk, Dusty is a stellar horse. We love him so much that we frequently use the wrong relative pronoun.

Anyway, before Thanksgiving I was out in the barn and Dusty came up and nuzzled my neck. I turned around and started rubbing his head. Something was not right. He had a small swelling right where the side metal piece would be if we haltered the horse. I grabbed the swelling and mashed it around. It didn't hurt him so I let Thanksgiving and The Nutcracker pass before I checked it again. The thing was bigger so we called a few vets. The vets thought it might be cancer, a fatty tumor, or an abscessed tooth. Every one of them reminded us that at 24, he could have a lot of serious problems. They talked about needle aspirations, dental work under anesthesia, and other scary "What if he dies during the test?" type stuff. During all this, the best (only) horse vet in this area gets sick. We wait, scared we will wake up one morning to a dead horse.

Finally, we get the appointment, get a halter on the horse, which is difficult because of this growth thingie, haul him to the vet, and leave him for the procedure and recovery (overnight). Thirty minutes later the doctor calls and says to come get the horse. The cancer, the tumor, the big scary thing was nothing more than a wad of hay that had become trapped in the space that once housed a tooth. Dusty was so good that the vet didn't have to use anesthesia to dislodge the wad or to grind the adjacent tooth so that it would be less likely to happen again. All this worry, all this planning so that biopsies could be sent to the university, all this money, all this hoodoo for a wad of hay.

When Dusty got back home, I turned him out in a rye grass field. I decided our geriatric horse didn't need any more coarse hay. He has been back there happily grazing for weeks, only coming to the gate each morning for his scoop of oats. He doesn't look so old when the sun is setting on him in his winter coat and the bright green of the rye. Yet, age is there. When taking a closer look the gray tinges around his mouth and the developing cataracts in his eyes certainly tell a different tale. I suppose we need to trade his registration in the AQHA for one in the American Geriatric Horse Association.

Though, I suspect he has a few more years left to graze on the rye.

Honey Harvest

One of the things I've been doing when I haven't been writing is harvesting honey. Actually, we harvested about a month ago, but we returned some of the extracted comb to the hive for a fall flow. I know it doesn't seem logical to those of you who are already shivering, but we are in the prime of goldenrod and fall flower season. We'll slip these fall supers off at the end of November when the temperatures start dropping in earnest.

This last hive check will give us an idea of which hives will need a little extra help in winter and which hives have all the honey and pollen they need until the spring. We don't count individual bees, but we do like to have a general idea of bee population going into the winter. Once the weather turns cold, we won't pop the tops.

Anyway, honey harvest is a family production. There is a job for every person. Honey supers have to be removed, jars have to be sterilized, cappings have to be removed, the extractor has to be spun, comb honey has to be cut and jarred, and jars have to be filled and sealed. Our goal was to be finished in one day. We weren't, though we were incredibly more efficient.

Confession. I still have a pot of comb and cappings that need cleaning sitting on my kitchen cabinet. Perhaps today will be the day I tackle it.

This Morning Down on the Farm

Prehistoric birds,

Enormous bumble bees,

Squash with pizazz, and

And a BIG SMILE!

The Lowly Black-Eyed Pea

I would guess that there is not a garden in this area that does not have at least one row of southern peas, lumped affectionately together as black-eyed peas. The ones I grow are technically pink eye, purple hull peas, but fill the same niche in our garden and larder. There are subtle taste and texture differences between crowders, black-eyed, purple hull, and lady finger, so you try a few and pick a pea. You don't really need to grow more than one kind in a garden unless you want a new variety. Bees just love peas and cross pollination is a sure thing.

In the garden, peas are nitrogen-fixing legumes that are also pollen rich. They love the heat of the south and are even drought tolerate. In the larder, peas are a staple of the southern table. Eaten along with greens or ham or with just cornbread, they are rich in Vitamin A, Folate, and Calcium. They also are a source of protein.

Perhaps, if Mississippians would remember their traditional foods and shun the fast food stands, they wouldn't be the fattest Americans, again.

Today, I will salute the lowly black-eyed pea. After I shell today's harvest, I will cook some, basically unadorned, to eat with some cornbread, accented with some pepper jelly - nothing better, really. Of course, having a hunk of watermelon for dessert wouldn't be bad.

Tradition. Not always bad.

Bees in the Corn

This morning I did a hive entry check because last night, while I was sitting on the porch as a thunderstorm went right around us, AGAIN, I thought I noticed fewer bees hanging on the front of hive number 1. Fewer bees could have been caused by the cool, damp breeze blowing in or it could be a sign of trouble. Anyway, I stood around in front of the hives today and I saw lots and lots of bees with enormous panniers of pollen. See the little yellow pocket to the right of the bee. Go ahead, click the picture for a better look.

I did a quick look around and realized the corn had bloomed and the bees were sneaking over the fence to partake. The bees love this stuff, though harvesting corn pollen has no economic benefit since corn self-pollinates.

Hold up a minute. Let me climb on my stump.

Many commercial beekeepers forget this important, natural step in the hive year. When the beekeepers become paid pollinators for crops requiring insect pollination, the needs of the bees are neglected. Years ago, bees were more viable because there were more backyard keepers and farmers who kept their own pollination hives, which allows them to stay on the property for the entire year. During the stationary hive year, the bees are allowed to forage for the nutrients needed to keep healthy, while those on the road are fed inferior replacements.

If we let the bees gather corn pollen, would we be any better off? With all the genetically modified corn out there, I'm wondering if the bees need to be left to their own devices. Could the genetically altered corn be the one thing that is killing the bees?

We grow only organic, non GMO, corn here, so I let (like I am in full control of all my 120,000 plus bees) my bees eat all they want, but I do wonder about the other, not so lucky bees (I'm also lucky, none of my neighbors are corn growers). If corn is genetically altered to produce Bt in the pollen, which it is, then is not the pollen an insecticide?

Perhaps cheap corn isn't as cheap as it seems.

Berries

In pursuit of perfect blackberries, we tramped through mud and briers, risked getting chiggers and ticks, and endured oppressive heat. Why? Wild blackberries are the best. No thornless hybrid, no tame orchard berry can even compete.

The flavor and texture differences are subtle, yet distinct - the twang of the wild, I like to say.

My children and I brought home 5 pounds. We picked many more than that, but getting them into the basket is tough. Even though I should have more self control than my children, I know I ate at least a cup - maybe two. You have to test each picking location to make sure they aren't bitter from lack of rain.

Yep, that sounds like a solid defense.

We did have to limit our picking to low spots, the spring stream, and the small spring because we need rain to produce the sweetest berries. Those dry berries have way too much wild twang. Even with the limitation, we got enough today for a cobbler and a jar or two of preserves.

Yum! Yum!

While we were out, we did reconnaissance for a later harvest - wild muscadines. My husband has a small orchard, but finding a wild crop is even better because I like that wild twang. Of course, walking out to the orchard is certainly easier. Looks like we will have a good crop this year if we don't have to share too many with the birds.

The Roost

Finding the perfect roost for my turkeys was a challenge because, quite honestly, I didn't know what I was seeking. My husband took a partial cattle panel out to the coop and propped it against the wall when the poults were small. They hated it. The wires were too small or they couldn't figure out how to use it.

When my husband was out of town, I decided to remove his work and find a real solution. You can't let your birds free range unless they roost in your coop. Turkeys that don't roost in the coop won't return to the coop at night, so they will be unprotected. They are also difficult to catch when needed. So, I put roosting turkeys on the top of the list.

I hung a pole from the roof like a giant trapeze. Too swingy, I guess. They didn't like it. I, then searched high and low for something that I thought a turkey would like.

Finally, I called a man who is dedicated turkey hunter and asked about favorite roosts of wild turkeys.

"In the tops of pine trees on branches about three inches in diameter," he said.

K and I started searching for 3" branches and I just happened to have a few perfect ones in our Katrina cedar pile. They were there all along, I just didn't know what I needed. As soon as the limbs were installed, the turkeys started investigating - playing if you believe animals play.

That night every poult roosted.

Zucchini

We're at that awkward time of the gardening year when we get basket after basket of one thing, but don't have the other ingredients to make our favorites.

Costata Romanesco, my favorite zucchini, is fabulous alone, sauteed in olive oil with just a sprinkle of sea salt and freshly ground pepper, served over a bed of spaghetti. Dust lightly with Parmesan to make it perfect. But, what I'm craving right this minute is Ratatouille. I still don't have eggplant, bell pepper, or tomato ripe, but I'm close.

Meanwhile, I have lots and lots and lots of zucchini.

I'm making Zucchini Bread with the larger squash (this species gets huge overnight but is amazingly tender for the larger vegetable genre) for eating now and for the freezer. Here's the recipe in case you have an over supply without support veggies.

Zucchini Bread

3 ea Egg -- slightly beaten
1 cup Sugar, Brown
1 cup Sugar
1 cup Vegetable Oil
2 cup Zucchini -- grated
3 tsp Vanilla Extract
1 cup Flour, White, Unbleached
1 cup Flour, Whole-Grain
2 tsp Baking Soda
1/4 tsp Baking Powder
1 tsp Salt
3 tsp Cinnamon, Ground
1 cup Pecans -- Chopped

Preheat oven to 350. Beat eggs and sugars together. Mix in oil, zucchini, and vanilla. Sift dry ingredients together and beat into mixture. Stir in chopped nuts. Pour batter into two greased and floured 9 x 5 loaf pans. Bake for 1 hour. Best if allowed to cool for a while after baking. from Dinner on the Diner, Junior League of Chattanooga.

Image is E's. I think this will be her fair photography entry. I saw her working on it in Black and White, yesterday afternoon.

Too Far?

Yesterday, when K was finishing the lawn, he found an injured baby. Isn't it cute?

He came for the camera, but then asked if he could keep it and try to nurse it back to health. It looked dehydrated and had some sort of fly attracting injury on his back side, but we didn't pry too much because that area of a skunk is not something you want in your face.

Just in case.

After a few droppers of water and a few kernels of cat food, Lil' Pepe showed a bit more life. We, then, had to find a way to keep the flies away, because maggots swimming in rotten flesh isn't pleasant for anyone.

Established for the night, we thought we had a chance to heal this stray. I was really excited because I need more egg eating skunks to compete with the egg eating rat snakes.

This morning, Lil' Pepe was dead.

And I was actually sad. I tell you he was just too cute not to want to keep him.

It's probably good thing Mr. W is out of town. I doubt he would have been moved to care.

Canebrake

The canebrake is an almost magical place with its muffled quiet of thick vertical growth and filtered light. Once you move a little way into the forest of canes light becomes even more scarce. The air is cool and damp. Cane strippings and leaves blanket the floor. Wildlife abounds - frogs, canebrake rattlers, voles and who knows what else is lurking- hidden by the shadows.

Alas, we weren't there to meditate. With work to do, we shattered the silence with the whine of a chain saw, downing mature canes with the potential to become outstanding structure for my unruly running beans.

Yet, there certainly is pleasure in work, if you take the time to find it.

Basil

I absolutely, positively love basil. And why not? Basil grows when it is hot, is a companion plant to just about any other plant, and it provides the base for one of my most favorite dishes - pesto.

In fact, we had pesto last night. I was tired from hoeing, weeding (I missed that one piece of grass in the basil), cutting and hauling cane for beanpoles, and sticking a few beans - not anywhere close to all. I needed something quick, low heat producing, and indulgent.

Noticing earlier that my basil needed nipping, I decided pesto was the answer. So, we threw two chickens, flavored with a bit of olive oil, salt, garlic, and a touch of lemon, on the grill, and I started harvesting basil. If I hadn't been so tired, I would have hand chopped every single garlic clove and basil leaf, but alas I tossed everything except the oil and cheese in the food processor and pulsed it a few times. I am usually snooty about things like this, but sometimes you just have to take the easy way. I did grate the Parmesan by hand before I threw it in the food processor with the olive oil and gave it a few more whirs.

Here is a recipe. I know not from where it came, but I do know that it is very flexible.

About 2 cups basil
About 1/4 pine nuts (I've used pecans in a tight, but will never use walnuts though some people like it that way)
Two or three cloves or garlic
Sea salt to taste, but also to help with the chopping of the garlic
Ground pepper to taste
A mound of grated Parmesan, about 1 cup
Then, enough great extra virgin olive oil to make it smooth and somewhat emulsified (maybe 3/4 cup).

A few of those recipe caveats: Quality matters here, use great olive oil and if you have a green can in the fridge, leave it there.

Chop the basil, pine nuts, and garlic together with the salt and pepper. Add the cheese. Then add the olive oil in a stream until it looks right. Serve over pasta - warm or room temperature.

Sit back and wait for the Wows, Ohs, and Ahhhs.

Just a Picture Today

Imagine the sweetest smell you've ever smelled!!

Moving into the heat of summer

We move quickly from cold enough to freeze your entire garden and orchard to so warm the weeds are threatening to overtake the young plants and lettuce and English peas are failing. We have already cut the first cutting of hay. We are hoping to get at least one more, but even if we don't we'll have two years worth in storage, which is the goal each year.

I harvested the garlic this week and will begin to braid it this weekend. I may try to fashion a wreath rather than a hank. Honestly, I'm not that good at it. I never know what I'll get. Whatever it turns into, the garlic will finish the curing process hanging in the hall - looking pretty. I hope.

I'll plant more warm weather crops where I dug the garlic, the bitter lettuce, and the peas tomorrow.

And, I'll have to stick the running beans! Ugh!

Relocation

Remember the egg-eating snake from a few posts? Well, he had a voracious appetite. The hen wouldn't stay on her nest after the incident, so we let the snake have those eggs since they weren't fit for human consumption. The eating was so good that he brought a friend to stay. I found two snakes in the chicken coop while collecting eggs last weekend. Seeing the one snake shimmy straight up the wall to his full six feet was proof positive that no bluebird house is safe without a baffle. I'm not skittish, but the never before witnessed prowess of the rat snake gave me the all-overs.

We decided the snakes had to go.

We decided on a relocation plan - bag and transport to the spring stream about a mile away. We were able to catch both snakes and K drove them over the hills and to the swamp to their new home. One of the snakes, the least aggressive of the two, slithered off into the stream. The other shook his tail, "reared up like a cobra (my son's description)," and threatened to strike. Of course, K thought it was a photo op and moved forward rather than backwards.


We went to the museum yesterday because tennis was rained out. We talked to my snake expert cousin who felt that we should have carried them farther from our house and the chickens.

We're waiting for their return.

All photos by K.

What happens when chickens make poor nesting decisions

This morning when K was checking chicks, turkeys, and our broody hen who decided to nest outside of the hen house (not that it would have made a difference in this instance), he started squawking loudly enough for me to hear him in the house to, "Bring the camera!!!!!"

When E and I did bring the camera, we saw the broody hen trapped in our temporary restraining pen with this enormous rat snake. The idea of the temporary protection was to keep the raccoons and skunks away - also yellow dogs who might forget their training. We weren't really thinking of long, thin predators.

We should have been. This snake is certainly a healthy specimen. He or she has probably been feasting on our eggs for quite some time. I think he was about 5 feet long, but none of the pictures show the full length.

K was more enthralled about capturing the dislocation of the jaw. Honestly, I thought it was somewhat gross, but what do I know. These were taken at close range without the aid of special lens. K and I both assumed the snake had such a mouthful that he would be in no position to strike.


What to do? What to do? Should we relocate the hen and her eggs? Or just hope she learns to choose more wisely next time.

Can we count this as science??

Bloom

I changed my background color to match the blush roses climbing on my fence. I'm sure I showed them last year. Yes, here they are. This year I have even more, despite my lack of knowledge in the rose training area. Despite my lack of tender loving care, these heirloom roses that I started from cuttings are growing prolifically. A few buds were burned in the last frost, but most are near perfect?

Weeding the fence behind the roses is no walk in the park. Let me tell you. But having a wall of roses will be something to behold.

Do you think climbing roses are ugly in the off season? I've thought about this more than once, because I was thinking of growing them on all the fences, but they do look a bit unruly.


I'm knitting a sweater for my self with a silk, cotton yarn of this color (If you're a Ravelry person, you can see the details there. I'm tbwisteria). The yarn is expensive, not the most expensive by any means, but every 3 inches of sweater costs around $13 (I'm knitting in the round). Y'all needn't remind me that when I'm through knitting I will have spent a pile of money. You also don't need to remind me that I could have gone to a nice store and bought a similar sweater for less. I know. I know. The same goes for all the clothes I make for myself and princess, and for most home decorating projects.

What I do want to know . .

How is it that our raw materials prices have gotten so high, while our finished goods prices are lower? Much of the fabric and yarn are made with the same cheap labor used to make the finished goods. When I was young, many people sewed so they could have nice clothes cheaply. Wearing handmade clothes to school was not necessarily a positive. Now the only clothes that are more expensive than handmade are couture, which of course are handmade by the popular crowd.

Distressing.

Which leads us to the question of the day? Why do I do it? Why does anyone do it?

Does watching fabric grow beneath your needles from wonderful yarn have a price? Does creating a perfectly fitting garment have a price? Do I knit and sew for process? If I did, couldn't I just use some cheap stuff?

I noticed in the magazine, Interweave Knits (Winter 2007, because, yes, I am that far behind) which contains the pattern for my sweater, that Jove was quoted in the web watch section:

Since I have started knitting lace, I have found a use for the product. I now wear shawls. And have given shawls to people as gifts. . . . So while I knit lace primarily for the process, there is still some part of me that needs to see a use for the product.

Yep, at $13 plus dollars every three inches, finding a use for the product would be all important.

Bourbon Reds

Our ten Bourbon Red heritage turkeys arrived yesterday from Ideal Poultry, packed with ten miscellaneous chicks to prevent jostling and to provide warmth.

Cute, cute, cute!

They are warming under their electricity sucking heat lamp in their brand new turkey house. Isn't it funny how you think you are ready for something - facility perfect, food and watering ready - and then when the post office calls at 7:30, you have to run around like a maniac stringing extension cords for the lamp that needs a new bulb, build a retaining wall to keep the now tiny chicks from leaving the facility that you thought was perfect. When the chicks arrive is when you notice the crack in the door seating that will most certainly allow varmint entrance. Now is the time you realize that a dividing wall is completely necessary, not just optional. Now is the time you realize the waterers that you use only when you have bitties are cracked and won't hold water.

Now is the time you realize you weren't as organized and on top of things as you gave yourself credit for being. Now is the time to panic.

But, aren't they cute and won't they be delicious in November?

We will eat all of these birds except for one breeding pair. Hopefully, a turkey can be the mama next year.

Why it is difficult to garden with so many cats

Cats attacking the hoe and mashing emerging asparagus

Cats resting where seeds have just been planted even though I attempted to thwart their efforts.

Finally, Zilla flat out refusing to move even after threatening her.