Snow day

Cast iron cookware has vaulted to the top of my Christmas wish list, and wood heat—fireplace or wood stove—has been elevated from our househunting would-be-nice list to the not-buying-without list. I was so thankful for the fireplace today!

At 1:42 this morning, we (re)joined the ranks of the majority of people living outside of the city proper: the power went out. (As of noon today, at least 15,000 people were estimated to be without power.) Little Bear woke up twice, disoriented and upset because it was so dark, but we all stayed plenty warm through the night thanks to Matt's fire Tuesday evening. I got another fire started first thing this morning, and kept it burning until 3:30 or so this afternoon to keep the house warm as the walls slowly lost their retained heat; we lit another at bedtime tonight. It's only in the 30s outside, so it's not cooling down too quickly; we're sure thankful that's a positive 30 instead of a negative! All things considered, this definitely isn't the worst time to have lost power.

Work doesn't stop for a little thing like 12 to 15 inches of snow, so since the university is on its own power plant, Matt headed in to the office this morning. Thank goodness for a jeep with four-wheel drive! It really is beautiful outside, since someone else plows the driveway so I don't have to shovel. That's something else we will have to keep in mind, looking for a house: how long of a driveway are we (Matt + kids if I'm pregnant) willing to clear each time it snows?

So much snow. So so much snow. At least 12 inches fell here between Tuesday morning and first thing this morning, and it started up again later today... And we know other people who got more than we did, 16 inches or more in the same time frame!

The fireplace for heat, the sun for light; Matt went to the store on his lunch break today for extra batteries for flashlights, but it's bright enough in the daytime with the shades open. It's an odd thought that in situations like this, we're probably actually more comfortable than people whose lives are normally more convenient: we heat primarily with wood, so losing power doesn't affect that much at all; we aren't going to get too cold with three cords of split wood outside. We already haul our own drinking water, so we are okay on that, and we have quite the abundance of snow to melt and heat for washwater, flushing toilets, etc. I have found myself thinking wistfully of gas ranges and ovens, but I'm not incapable of making hot meals:

Chicken noodle soup for lunch today.

As exciting as cooking soup in the fireplace was, I'm suddenly developing a preference for wood stoves... it did work just fine, though. My parents' power came back on this afternoon, so we joined them for supper instead of trying something more ambitious in a skillet perched atop the coals, but if the power is out tomorrow morning I fully intend to make fireplace oatmeal. It might be a good idea to invest in a good unglazed cast iron Dutch oven that can sit right in the middle of the coals before the next big winter storm, just in case; that pot was big enough for soup for Little Bear and me, but it couldn't handle a full meal for the family.

Our power has been on and off since 5, on steadily since 9:30 or so; we'll pray that it stays that way now! It's been an exciting couple of days. If we lose power again by morning, though: oatmeal. We'll keep on making this an adventure.

A snowy Michaelmas

Happy Michaelmas! St Michael sure heard from me frequently today; it was a good day to be asking his intercession, asking him to "be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil," what with more than ten inches of snow fallen so far, four power outages, and one downed tree (and more leaning) in the yard. I was so glad to finally have Matt safely home tonight! This probably isn't what Michaelmas looks like in most places:

That's our road. It's currently only navigable by sled or on foot—thank goodness we have another driveway joining a different, larger road! Even just pulling the sled, I had to keep going off into the ditch to get around or under leaning trees on our way to the mailbox this afternoon. Little Bear loved our walk; he very quickly learned to listen right away when I told him to "duck and cover," and he kept pointing out the bent-over trees, laughing when I walked into them because I was looking back at him, and going on excitedly about our "adventure." Kit was less than thrilled, but I was carrying her instead of sticking her in the sled, so she just buried her face in my shoulder and grumbled occasionally.

Today was my first really intentional, planning-ahead celebration of Michaelmas. When the power came back on after the first outage of close to an hour this morning, I decided to put non-electricity-requiring tasks on hold until I finished making dinner. I felt a little silly roasting the evening's chicken and baking the squash before noon, but when the power went back out around 2 and stayed out until 5:30, I was sure glad I'd done it.

Our feast day dinner:

Roast chicken with apples and onions, the Michaelmas recipe from Feast! Real Food Reflections and Simple Living for the Christian Year, by Daniel and Haley Stewart; my mother's butternut squash bake; and a blackberry cobbler. I've definitely never cooked with blackberries before, and I'm not actually sure if I've ever eaten them cooked at all; they don't grow here, but I bought a bag of frozen ones yesterday so that I could tell Little Bear the story about them that goes with Michaelmas.

Apparently it was common, once upon a time in places where blackberries grow, to make sure you picked your blackberries before Michaelmas lest they turn bitter. Sour? Bitter? One of those. Anyway. They would turn bitter, so the story goes, because when St Michael cast the devil out of heaven, the devil landed in a blackberry patch, which hurt, and in anger he spat on the bushes. Little Bear thought it a great story; Matt did a passable job of hiding his amusement at my attempt to explain the battle in heaven at a three year old's level.

People here tell stories about the September of '92, which was the only year in many people's memory that we got more snow at once (let alone in September!) than we have so far this year; in '92, we got 24 inches over three days, and much of the area lost power. I remember that timespan from a kid's perspective: snow far above my waist, digging huge tunnels that lasted all winter, a huge kerosene heater in the living room... As an adult and parent this time, my reaction is a little less "yay, adventure!", but I'm working on being as excited about it as I can for Little Bear. I'm glad that it's happening today, of all days, as an extra thing to make our first Michaelmas memorable.

So far tonight our power is still on, but from what we've heard it is out all over the area, even places closer in to town than we are. Looking out the window this evening, we could see one tree resting on the power line coming to our house and another larger one leaning over the line, so we will see if the power stays on all night! It flickered again here just now; we might wind up having a more "adventurous" night after all. The snow is supposed to keep coming until 6 am.

Seven Quick Takes

I

Okay, so I said I'd tackle the encyclical Laudato Si this week and have thoughts today for you... Ha. Clearly, I hadn't attempted to read an encyclical since I was a college student. There is no such thing as "time to read a document requiring actual concentration" when I'm taking care of these munchkins all day every day. By the time they're both asleep for the night, there's usually something more time sensitive, like washing dishes or keeping the fire going, to drain the last remaining brain cells. So after two and a half days of picking it up whenever I had a spare minute, I've just now finished reading the introduction...

II

Keeping the fire going, time sensitive in September? 

Yes. That snow is to his knees, and it all fell today! I got stuck in the driveway this afternoon, arrogantly assuming that the jeep and I could easily handle 8-plus inches of snow despite not having the snow tires on yet... the undercarriage was plowing up snow, we slid into a trough when I tried to go from reverse to drive, and it took 4 Low just to get back into the garage. One of Matt's coworkers dropped him off at the end of the driveway, since I couldn't go get him from work; I guess we'll be taking turns with the snow shovel tomorrow. Hopefully the snow is done falling for a while! We've been waking up to low 20s outside, right around 65 inside as long as we had a decent fire going the night before. I'm pretty sure we've managed to keep the baseboards off so far, though I'll admit I bumped our bedroom thermostat down another notch this evening when it was getting too close. Matt had a fire going after supper, and I canned applesauce, so the apartment should be plenty warm.

III
Oops, rabbit trails. Very little brain. Back to the encyclical. My very first realization: this isn't new. So many of the people I've heard reacting, whether they agree or disagree, have been talking like Pope Francis is saying something radically new and different and no other pope ever has ever said anything ever about ecology, ever. The mainstream media, I can understand that from, but not educated Catholics; he begins by quoting four recent popes (Pope St John XXIII, Pope Paul VI, Pope St John Paul II, and Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI) who all repeatedly expressed that humanity is failing at our responsibility to care for God's creation, and that serious changes need to be made in order to reverse the damage being done. Pope Francis is joining his voice with his predecessors; he's certainly not unique in expressing serious concern about the environment, humanity's role in shaping it, and the connection between our relationship with the earth and that with the poor, those most directly affected by negative environmental changes. I'll be interested to see if he continues quoting the other pontiffs.

IV
Matt was expecting to be out of town for work all weekend, but the trip got cancelled. I'm super grateful to have him at home, with the kids and the snow and what all. Everything goes so much more smoothly with him here. But there would have been one tiny thing that his trip would have made a little easier: making meatless suppers both Friday and Saturday. We always do meatless on Friday, but because we're in the fall ember days, I've added Wednesday and Saturday this week. And he doesn't not want me to cook meatless, exactly, but putting together good satisfying meals with what I have around the house, since it's the end of the month and I'd love to wait until October to go shopping again? Well, it's definitely doable, but making grilled cheese or peanut butter and jelly with Little Bear would be a lot easier. :-) So far it's been fine: cod, baked beans, and broccoli on Wednesday; a Dutch puffed pancake, scrambled eggs, and applesauce tonight... Tomorrow could get interesting, but the puffed pancake tonight was a gamble and they both wound up loving it, so hopefully I can come up with something that will be equally well received.

The fact that it looked rather like an octopus was trying to climb out of the pancake may have had something to do with its enthusiastic reception.

V

So distractible. Okay. So (still in the introduction), Pope Francis is listing off reasons why past efforts to find a solution haven't worked, and it's so easy to think that all of these other people have these problematic attitudes, but not me, and then boom, I'm reminded that yeah, he's talking to me too. He gives examples like powerful opposition, denial that there is a problem—I'm reminded of the 'Alaskans for Global Warming' bumper stickers you see around town—or indifference, resignation, "blind confidence" that technology will solve the problem. Wait. What? I had to read that last one over. What was wrong with looking for a technological solution? (I missed the "blind" the first few times, ironically). 

I grew up on Appleton's Tom Swift and the Asteroid Pirates, etc, Asimov's Foundation, watching Star Wars, Star Trek; in The Future (TM), technology can fix environmental problems, so what was wrong with looking for technological solutions to our present-day troubles?

Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew had my answer, calling Christians to "look for solutions not only in technology but in a change of humanity; otherwise we would be dealing merely with symptoms. He asks us to replace consumption with sacrifice, greed with generosity, wastefulness with a spirit of sharing, 'learning to give, and not simply to give up.'" (Paragraph 9) Symptoms. That makes so much sense. You can't just ask "what is wrong?" without also asking "why?"; otherwise you aren't likely to find a real, permanent, working solution. I'm reminded of a photograph of an iceberg at my chiropractor's office: the part that you can see, the "symptoms," is only one small part of the whole chunk of ice. You can't get rid of an iceberg by chopping it off at the water line; the whole thing has to melt.

VI
Moose season closed in our area this past Sunday. Matt had Monday off work, so since there weren't going to be any other hunters out, he took Little Bear out grouse hunting for the first time. It seemed like a pretty good bet that the grouse would all still be keeping to cover after the last few weeks of moose hunters tromping around, so Matt emphasized the "adventure" part over the "hunting" part as they were getting ready; coming home empty handed is certainly a part of learning to hunt, but 3 is pretty young to get all excited about hunting and then have to deal with the disappointment of not even seeing anything.

That didn't wind up being a problem.

They spotted a nice spruce grouse before they'd even made it all the way to the spot Matt had planned to hike, so that just made the hike that much lower stakes; the daily bag limit for grouse is 15, so if they got another, great! But they already had one to bring home, so Matt got to enjoy teaching Little Bear about hiking without caring quite so much about keeping a close eye out for grouse. He guessed they went a little over a mile, and Little Bear did great.

When they got home, Matt had Little Bear stay outside with him to watch as he cleaned the grouse; we talked about how God gives us animals for food, and we thank God for giving us good meat to eat and show God that we're thankful by eating it all and not wasting any. The following night, the grouse became a lovely pie for supper.

VII
E is for... ember days. It worked out perfectly that Little Bear started working on the letter E this week, because I got to dovetail that lesson in nicely. E, 'eh,' egg; E, 'eh,' elephant; E, 'eh,' ember days.

Explaining ember days to the three year old was delightfully simple, and ridiculously complicated. "Ember days are for thanking God for the fall—"

"No, it's snowing. It's winter."

"You're right. Thanking God for the winter, and all of the good food He's given us to store up for the winter, and all of the other—"

"But not the grouse."

"Yes, God gave us the animals like grouse for food, remember? We show Him that we're thankful by not wasting any of the good meat."

"But we're not saving the grouse for winter. Because we eated it."

Have a good weekend. I'll keep working my way through Laudato Si, and most likely have more thoughts to share as I go. As always, you can find many more quick takes over at This Ain't The Lyceum; be sure to check out Kelly's rundown of the World Meeting of Families!

Ember days and Laudato Si

It's that time of year again. On the Wednesday, Friday and Saturday following the third Sunday in September, we celebrate the fall ember days, when we mark the changing seasons by setting aside time to give thanks to God for His gift of the natural world, and to remember to use that gift wisely.

And oh my goodness, y'all, I think I finally 'get' ember days. We've been observing them for years, as far as the "marking the changing seasons" and "giving thanks to God for nature" goes. And four times a year, Matt and I go back and forth over why I'm making meatless suppers three nights in one week, and I eventually reach a point of "We're having meatless suppers because that's how you do ember days," logic which doesn't even satisfy the three year old. 

"And remember to use that gift wisely." Thundering herd of exclamation points. It makes sense now, having a penitential aspect to celebrating the change of seasons! If we were just thanking God for nature's bounty, logic would dictate a feast, not a fast. But it is in depriving ourselves of some of those good things that the ember days become a time of remembering to be careful stewards of what we've been entrusted with. Abstaining from meat provides us with the opportunity, each time we consider a meal or sit down to eat, to be reminded of what we're supposed to be reflecting on. Is it impossible to be mindful of responsible stewardship when sitting down to a meal with meat? Of course not! But the unusualness, in our house, of a meatless Wednesday and Saturday gives us pause: why are we eating this? Oh, right; ember days.

It's like the parable of the talents: use what you're given wisely and well, or you won't have it anymore. Each "wait, why is there no meat?" moment gives us a chance to remember that if we do not properly care for Creation, we are not going to continue to have all of the good things with which God endowed the earth. 

How appropriate that, on a day particularly set aside for thanking God for the bounty of nature and being mindful of how we make use of it, Pope Francis reminded us in his speech at the White House that "a serious and responsible recognition not only of the kind of world we may be leaving to our children, but also to the millions of people living under a system which has overlooked them" is demanded of us. He called Christians to "commit ourselves to the conscious and responsible care of our common home."

Coincidence? Maybe more like providence. I think this is an appropriate week for me to finally get my act together and actually read all of Pope Francis' encyclical Laudato Si, not just a snippet here and there.

Even if you're not doing anything else to mark these ember days (and they're totally optional nowadays), consider taking a few minutes at some point Friday or Saturday to listen to Pope Francis' words or think about what "responsible care of our common home" means for you. I'll hopefully get some reading done and have more thoughts by Friday, and I'd love to hear your reflections as well!

Salsa vibrante

The green tomatoes I picked up last Saturday were intended for mincemeat. Green tomato mincemeat. My mother and I love it... but we're the only ones in our families who do. Maybe I could have converted Little Bear; the boy did go through a phase of crying whenever there weren't pickled beets on the table for supper. But Matt isn't terribly fond of normal mincemeat, so a mincemeat made from green tomatoes was just too weird. After talking about it, and thinking about it, and getting busy and letting the green tomatoes sit on the counter all week and start turning yellowish, I gave up on mincemeat and turned to a more widely-accepted tomato use: salsa.

Salsa verde is supposed to be made with tomatillos, not sub-ripe tomatoes, but I don't think there's much risk of anyone mistaking my green tomato salsa for a proper salsa verde:

It's not exactly green!

Between the green-and-yellow tomatoes, the orange bell peppers, and the red onions, we turned out quite the colorful batch of salsa. About three pounds of tomatoes, two onions, and one and a half peppers yielded three pints to can, plus just about a fourth pint for the fridge. We kept it very mild so that Little Bear would enjoy it, and were fairly happy with how it turned out. It really isn't a tomatoey salsa, almost closer to a pico de gallo in texture and brightness (both in color and flavor!) Next time I will add at least one jalapeño, but we will still enjoy this batch. It turned out well for a first attempt!

Salsa vibrante 

6 1/2 cups cored and diced green tomatoes

1 1/2 orange bell peppers, diced

2 large red onions, diced

3 cloves garlic, diced

1/2 cup lime juice

1/2 cup fresh cilantro, chopped

2 teaspoons cumin

1 teaspoon oregano 

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon black pepper 

If you're going to can it, get your boiling water canner ready before you start making the salsa, so that the water and jars can be heating while the salsa cooks. I wound up with not quite enough salsa for four full pint jars, but prep enough jars for four or four and a half pints, in case you wind up with more (your vegetables are bigger, etc.) The water in the canner should come one to two inches above the top of the jars, and be at least two inches below the rim of the pot. Otherwise your stovetop turns into a lake... which it might do anyway, but hopefully not.

Combine tomatoes, peppers, onion, garlic and lime juice in a large pot and bring to a boil. Stir in cilantro, cumin, oregano, salt and pepper. Reduce heat and simmer five minutes. 

Using a canning funnel, ladle the hit salsa into the hot jars, making sure liquid covers the chunks and leaving 1/2 inch at the top. Wipe each rim clean before placing the lid on and screwing on the ring. Process jars in boiling water bath for 20 minutes (timing begins once the canner reaches a rolling boil; use these charts to adjust processing time if you're at a high altitude.) Remove jars and allow to cool undisturbed, checking to make sure they're sealed after 24 hours.

If you don't want to can it, you could certainly refrigerate and/or freeze the salsa instead. So far, we can vouch that it goes well with ham-and-egg breakfast burritos, chicken, and scooped up with tortilla chips!

(Recipe comes from this green tomato salsa by Ball.)

Seven Quick Takes

I

What is this strangeness? Tonight I had to turn the living room light on before 8 pm to be able to read. It still looked bright enough outside, and I could try to be optimistic and say that maybe, if it wasn't overcast, I could have held off another hour, but the dark is definitely coming. We kept the headlights on more often than not this past week! And some of that was from it being overcast and rainy most of the week, but still, there's no question that we are losing light. Also warmth—highs were in the 40s this past week, and will be in the 30s this coming week—but I expect the colder weather once we hit September. Somehow I always forget how early the darkness begins encroaching.

II

We made bright, colorful salsa this afternoon. It's so pretty! What kind is it?

Pink and orange and yellow and green... It looks like one of those peach or mango salsas that's popular these days, or a chutney, doesn't it? But it's actually not sweet at all; it's made from... green (unripe) tomatoes. No, really! 

I'll have the recipe up in the next couple of days, after we've properly tried it with a meal, but I just had to share a photo because I love how colorfully it turned out!

III

Somebody pointed out that one of the past couple of days was exactly 100 days before Christmas. I had a momentary burst of panic: Christmas is already close enough to be counting down?!?, followed by restoration of sanity: 100 is a really big number—that's more than a quarter of the year!, followed by annoyance: what happened to waiting until Black Friday to blast us with Christmas marketing? Part of me appreciates the reminder, though; if I want to have a peaceful Advent without my customary panic at the very end because I've been peaceful-ing my way through the last three weeks and having nothing actually finished, taking some time in the next month or two to make sure I have a handle on the gifts I want to make for people, at least, probably isn't an awful idea.

IV

Goodness, the three-year-old imagination sometimes...

"If you swing the [beanie] snake around very very fast, all of the beans will fly out into my mouth and eat me, and that will be disappointing."

"You can't tickle me! That will make me sleepy, and it's not bedtime yet."

And his chicken pot pie recipe, as explained at supper the other night: Three leaves of lettuce, seven pounds of chicken, three cups of sugar... and Piglet.

V

Much fun bread was eaten here this week. My next-younger sister was in town, and had somehow convinced my youngest three siblings that they like mushrooms. So she baked them a wonderful loaf of bread stuffed with mushrooms, caramelized onions, and mozzarella that was so gooey and delicious hot out of the oven... mmmm. She sent some home with us, and I gave her a chunk of my braided pesto cross. Because the pesto bread, while delicious, was not quite the thing for sandwiches, Little Bear and I later made a loaf of Oktoberfest bread:

You just mix together 3 cups flour, 3 teaspoons baking powder, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 cup sugar in a bowl, then stir in 12 oz (1 bottle) room-temperature beer. Pour the soft dough into a well-greased loaf pan. Melt together 4 tablespoons butter and 1 tablespoon honey, and pour over top of the dough. Bake at 350 degrees F for an hour, and let the loaf cool in the pan for a while before trying to remove it. The butter and honey poured over top gives it a sweet, crunchy crust, but if you want a softer crust (or a dairy-free loaf), mix 1/4 cup of oil into the dough instead of pouring butter on top.

VI

Last night Kit and I slept over at my family's house, so that I could bridge the gap between my sister flying out in the middle of the night and my parents flying back in first thing in the morning. Kit slept pretty well, though it took longer than usual to get her to sleep; she pretty clearly knew that this was not her bed. Once she was asleep, though, she stayed that way for most of the night. From what Matt said, Little Bear was much the same way—he took a long time going to sleep because he knew Kit and I were over at Grandma's, but when he finally fell asleep, he was out. 

I'm so thankful for kids who sleep through the night! I've had trouble sleeping for years, and it seemed logical that it would get worse with another baby rather than better, but since Kit was born I've been getting the best nights' sleep I've had in a long time!

VII

Here's a happy baby photo, because it's late and I'm sleepy and can't think of anything else. Matt and Little Bear were entertaining her this evening as I finished cleaning up the kitchen after supper, and she was so smiley:

Check out more quick takes over at This Ain't The Lyceum!

Food for the Winter: Freezing

Freezing is the quickest and easiest food-preservation method, as long as you have the freezer space. In another month or so, I'll have unlimited "freezer" space, but we're still getting into the mid-40s in the daytime so I can't just stick things outside to freeze yet. I'm definitely not in a huge hurry for the cold and snow to arrive, but when they do settle in, the unlimited cold storage space will be nice.

Our above-the-fridge freezer is just about full up with the summer's produce, which is a wonderful feeling going into winter! I'm hoping to make another trip or two to the farmers market before they're done for the year, so I can put up a few more pounds of carrots. In the freezer so far:

3 quarts of cranberries

2 quarts of blueberries

6 quarts of rhubarb 

4 quarts of shredded zucchini

6 quarts of carrots

4 pints of broccoli florets

15 cubes of pesto

A few quickbreads plus bananas waiting to become bread

And butter, because it's on the best sale I've seen all year this week, and butter freezes very well

It doesn't really sound like all that much, looking at those numbers and mentally comparing them to the six or seven months of snowy weather that could be arriving any day now! So obviously, we're not going to be living off of the food in the freezer all winter, although someday when we have our own house and a garden that's definitely something I'd like to try for... but that's years down the road, once Little Bear and Kit are old enough to be helpful either with gardening and preserving or with minding any younger siblings who might have joined us by then. 

Everything helps, though. The berries and rhubarb will be hoarded carefully, used a half-cup at a time to brighten up muffins, pancakes, and desserts all winter—I can't run out before the berries ripen next year! Yes, I learned this from my mother, and yes, Matt and my father both shake their heads at us... but they'll agree there's really no comparing domestic berries to our wild ones. And once I put up a few more pounds of carrots, maybe even some more broccoli or summer squash if I'm lucky, I will hopefully be able to pull out a bag of my frozen vegetables for supper at least one night a week through Easter, or even into April.

I freeze fruit and berries raw, but the vegetables get blanched. Blanching preserves the veggies' fresh flavor and color, and it's super easy. Fill a pot with enough water that it will cover the vegetables once you've added them, then bring the water to a full rolling boil. While it heats, set your colander in the sink and prepare another pot or a big bowl of cold water and ice, again full enough that all of the vegetables will be fully submerged. Once the water is boiling, the vegetables go in for just a few minutes—I gave the carrots four minutes, and the broccoli just two. Then they get dumped into the colander and poured from there into the ice water bath. When they have completely cooled, you can portion them out into freezer bags and put them directly into the freezer.

Look at that color! Fresh broccoli is so beautiful. I'm so excited to be able to look forward to pulling it out of the freezer for supper in a month or two and having it still that bright, fresh green.