May all of your endeavors in 2010 be as swiftly and triumphantly accomplished.
(video by Captain Daddio)
Archive for December, 2009
An exercise in Poultry Appreciation. Round 2. (with recipe!)
Every year, as fall starts yielding to winter, the flock begins their molting ritual. Feathers start blanketing the coop floor, sometimes in such a startling amount that first night that an impromptu head-count and 12-point inspection is warranted to rule out attack wounds. It’s interesting how each lady (and gentleman) goes about molting in her own way. Some bear no hint of feather loss whatsoever, sneakily dropping feathers here, there, in no great quantity. Others appear a bit light in feathery bulk. And Brownie Girl, Daddio’s favorite, molts right down to her skivvies, looking as close to a plucked chicken as a still-breathing, still-clucking hen could be. You can imagine our alarm the first year we witnessed it – we nearly opened a Poultry Intensive Care unit right there in the coop.
So the molting commenced in late fall this year, triggered by the change in daylight. The most important thing to know about molting is that it’s extremely hard work. So hard, in fact, that a chicken must stop all laying operations and devote her focus solely on growing new-and-improved, Now-50%-Fluffier! new feathers. So hard that those who tend a small flock of laying chickens are forced into an egg fast, watching their egg supply dwindle right before their eyes, sadly turning away their devoted egg customers with a tear and a pitiful shake of the head. So hard to grow those new feathers, but not nearly as hard as the mournful squeak of the shopping cart, as it slowly approaches the refrigerated egg section of the food coop. ‘Uncle’ we cried, ‘you’ve got us! We were wrong to take your delicious eggs for granted. Your eggs are truly the most robust, with the orangest yolks, the most delicious flavor, and no doubt the best nutritional content. You, the Lovely Ladies, are artisans, true masters of your craft! We vow never to forget that again. Please lay some damn eggs!’
The Ladies held a conference, with quiet clucking and muffled chatter that went long into the night. Meanwhile, leaving nothing to chance, I procured the brightest compact fluorescent light bulb that federal regulations would allow and installed it in the coop, programmed by timer to supplement the dwindling daylight and trick the girls into resuming regular ovulation. And in time, (a long time) that first egg reappeared. Then a second. Within a week, we had more eggs than we could juggle in our bumbling hands and pockets, requiring once again, the egg basket for all visits to the coop. A call was made to the Egg Customer. ‘Your dozen eggs are ready! (you know, the ones you ordered two months ago!)
This is the third winter we’ve tended these chickens. That first winter, fresh from moving in and inheriting the flock, you can imagine our panic when the laying ceased. I ran to the Chicken Book, all dogeared and bookmarked, trying to diagnose the devastating poultry disease that had consumed our flock. After an embarrassingly long time, I realized it was simply molting. Last winter, the second of our charge, we had freshman hens in the coop, raised the spring before, who were not yet mature enough to undergo the ritual of molting. They kept the eggs a-coming while the veteran Ladies were on hiatus.
And here we are now, still circumspect after it was brought to our attention that we were taking those eggs for granted. After the brief resumption of normal laying operations, we’re again facing a shortage. One, maybe two, eggs grace the straw-laden floor of the coop these days. (that’s about 4-8 eggs short of the normal quota) I’ve engaged the alarm; we are again in a state of Chicken Drama, code Orange. I’ve gone through the litany of possible culprits: Light (the bulb is still working, bright as ever, on schedule) Heat (it’s not been that cold, and I’ve lined the coop with insulating straw) Food & Water (there’s been plenty) Calcium? Seems to be fine. How about thieving critters? It seemed that we might need to engage the giant rat traps hanging from pegs on the coop walls, until it was brought to our attention that the thievery must be happening in broad daylight, when Critters are inactive. This points the blame right back to the chickens, who’ve eaten their own eggs plenty of times before. Even so, production is still way down.
So I’ve called a Business Development meeting with the Ladies. I plan on explaining how this is no way to run a business: hooking unsuspecting folks with the highly-addictive, mind-altering deliciousness of those eggs and then pulling the rug out, withholding them altogether. In as diplomatic a way as possible, I plan to ask them what concessions they require: more scratch, full of delicious corn and grain? Ok. It’s yours. More regularly-freshened water? Fine. An even-bigger supply of oyster shell and grit? Done.
Just lay us some eggs, already! (or I may have to line up the stockpots)
(click for link to PDF)
Should you be among the Fortunate, finding yourself with a plethora of eggs, I recommend you mix up a batch of this delicious Eggnog to ring in the New Year. It’s a seasonal family favorite, though it’s been a little too scarce this year, considering our shortage. We may have to grease up the shopping cart wheel and mosey back over to that refrigerated egg section….(shudder)
A few notes about the ingredients: the sugar called for is Sucanat, or evaporated sugar cane juice. It imparts some lovely carmel-ish undertones to the brew – do try it if you can find some. Raw (turbinado) sugar would work just as well. If you must, (I say with much snobbery) plain, old white sugar will suffice, but understand that you won’t reach the same level of enlightenment. And fresh-grated nutmeg: absolutely run out this very minute and buy yourself some whole nutmeg and grate it on your box grater and prepare to never, ever look back at pre-ground nutmeg again, which is a mere shadow of Fresh-Grated Nutmeg Greatness. That dingy brown, pre-ground poser does not deserve to bear the same name as the Nutmeg, grated by your hand. (Cluck cluck – what cooking snobbery today!)
With that, I wish you all a Happy New Year. Meet you here in 2010.
Yule
The magic has returned to our Holiday season.
That cornucopia of awe and reverence and faith that must be the backbone of each of the winter holidays had been missing from ours for some time. A long time. Too long. There had been an inkling, a whisper: Solstice. But the hurried frenzy that makes up the backbone of the commercial holiday season had already enveloped us. Making gifts, buying gifts, list crossing, miles driven. A year passed, the whisper unanswered. And another year, caught in the vortex, spun out of control. There was a glimmer of hope when the time came to resurrect the spirit of Santa Claus. Honoring the tradition of the benevolent giver, experiencing the magic of Christmas through the eyes of our child, it seemed for a time that it might be enough. Might be enough to keep the glow within us alive, when outwardly all that remained of the holidays were our shiny new things, crumpled balls of wrapping, and leftover crumbs of cookies. But it wasn’t enough, not enough to satisfy. I think that, for us, Christmases of the recent past have been rather like an intense sugar high. The build-up of anticipation, the lights, the music, the cheer in the air that’s almost palpable are all delicious and sweet but fleeting in their ability to satisfy the soul. It reminded me of learning to mediate the sugar in my diet from my wise midwife, when both pregnancies prompted a closer look at what and how I was eating. Morning rituals around here include honey in the coffee and frequent maple syrup based breakfasts; temper that sugar with protein and fat, she said, and your blood sugar will remain on a more even keel.
We needed a little holiday protein. Again, that whisper was heard. Solstice. I began this season by canvassing a pool of experts, namely my friends. Do you celebrate Solstice? If so, how? And on the eve of Solstice Eve, we made our plans.
We started by collecting candles to light as the sun’s own faded. With actual Solstice, or Yule, as it’s also known, falling on Monday, we chose to celebrate on Sunday, when we’d all be home. On Sunday morning we planned for the coming eve, planned to conduct our evening by the light of candles and tree lights only, in honor of the year’s shortest day. After consulting our new go-to reference book, we decided also to light a yule log, realizing after some excited brainstorming that last year’s Christmas tree was still accessible outside.
And then we received a delightfully unexpected Solstice gift: an email from my Holiday Traditions Exchange partner and her family. Having traveled all the way from California to Wisconsin for a family holiday gathering, they were now only an hour away. Could they come by for a visit and meet us face-to-face? Of course – how lovely!
The exchange gifts we received
How small this world really is and how precious to find kindred spirits. It was a gift indeed to welcome new friends into our home, then lit by the gentle flickering of candles. How bizarre it must be to meet new people that way, to get a house tour lit only by candlelight, but they were gracious in participating with us. A meal was shared, so many common threads uncovered, and I daresay a strong friendship is in the works. A blessed Solstice indeed.
We closed our family Yule celebrations last night, on Solstice night, by lighting our Yule tree. As befitting a new tradition, it was the Christmas tree from the previous year. No doubt this year’s tree will be honored in the same way next year.
Perhaps part of the problem I had found with trying to celebrate Solstice in the past was in my attempt to figure out how to celebrate it in lieu of Christmas. This year, the forced quietness that comes with candlelit reflection has given our family a groundedness with which to enter the upcoming Christmas holidays, when we congregate with family and engage in all kinds of merry-making. Of course we realize that there are so many paths to the divine, so many real and true traditions to celebrate at the dawning of Winter. Our great joy, besides the making of new friends, comes in finding a path that speaks to the unique beats of our hearts.
The owls have risen. (with tutorial)
Owls.
75 or so odd owls, made by hand in a frenzy with a looming Christmas deadline. Christmas 2007, that is. The deadline came and went; the owls who were to be the centerpiece of a Christmas tree garland retreated to a dark corner to percolate. But the corner proved to be not dark enough, as they became a favorite plaything of the little girl who wanders these parts. One of these owls, a very special one indeed, was Chosen and elevated to status of Sleeping Buddy. She was granted domicile in a custom-designed hanging nest on said girl’s bedroom curtain. The other 70-odd owls remained in their dark corner, searching for their new incarnation. Christmas 2008 came and went. No owls. No garland.
Enter Christmas 2009. The Wandering Girl is, more than ever before, a whirling dervish of the ebullient anticipation that is the Christmas season. She’s also beginning to try to wrap her arms around the concept of time. ‘Aha,’ said The Momma. ‘Owls: come forth.’
What we needed was an Advent Calendar, a tangible representation of days and time and just how long this seemingly-endless wait will be.
And did I mention that I was participating in Sew Liberated’s Holiday Traditions Exchange? Why not make two Advent calendars (there are plenty of owls, after all) and send the second off as the handmade portion of the exchange? Perfect. Here’s where The Momma’s own shaky grip on the concept of time comes into play, thinking that making two at the same time would be barely more time commitment than just the one. It’s not; they both sucked up more than their fair share of time. But they are done; the second mailed off with well wishes and the hope that it is lovingly received and adored.
This is the finished Advent calendar for our family. It was made entirely from the fabrics in my stash. I can’t even begin to describe how satisfying it is to start paring that stash down a bit.
This is the calendar made for my exchange partner. I had two concepts of how the owls would migrate to the tree throughout the month and it was nice to be able to see both to fruition. The calendar above shows the starting point, before December 1st. Any wonkiness you might notice is due to the fact that, moments before completing it, it got soiled and promptly thrown in the wash.
This (above) shot shows the calendar updated to the date I sent it off, midway through December.
And this is how it will look on December 24th.
Oh! I’ve not yet mentioned my acquisition of an industrial-strength snap press! I think it goes without saying that since receiving it, I’ve found all kinds of applications, including the mounting of these owls. They snap in place on the calendar as they both wait in line and fly off to the tree. (of course this proves me right in believing I couldn’t live without the snap press)
So do you like the owls? Again, I fear they might become victims of a passing design trend. But they live so nicely on our calendar tree that I think they’ll age quite well in our house. I never claimed to be a trendsetter. That said, if you find yourself wishing you could make your own, I wrote up the how-to and pattern, which you can find here. While I drew my own pattern and instructions, I most definitely did not invent the idea. These owls were all over the blogosphere and flickr a few years ago. If I could find my point of inspiration, I’d certainly cite it, but alas, my record keeping is crap. Oh wait – here was my inspiration. These were stuffed and 3D; mine are adapted from the same concept but flat. A note about my pattern: I intended for them to be whimsical and decidedly not symmetrical. If that’s not how you roll, you’ll need to carefully re-draft your own pattern.
Now, let the countdown begin!
Like this:
O Tannenbaum.
How about a tour of our lovely tree?
It’s extra good this year, having come from our friends’ yard. (with their permission)
Ah, the beautiful vintage glass ornaments. Not too many of those left, as we lose a few each year to the inevitable plummet to the floor. I believe I found a gold mine of these during my college must-collect-everything-I’ll-ever-need-for-my-home-someday rummage saleing. The fluffy pink thing on the right hand side is what we fondly call a Pink Christmas Chicken. It was made from a pink fine feather boa I had in my craft stash. I made a ton of these many years ago (same college hope-chest-building years?) and also gave one to select members of the family. I’ve been known to get ornery if the Pink Christmas Chicken is not prominently displayed on their respective tree. A friendly reminder to dig those out, if only for that one day when I’ll be there.
And new this year, that missing element of tree perfection that I’ve been trying to find for several years now: a garland. Three years ago, I made a boatload (75) of those little owls that were all the rage, with the intention of stringing them into a garland.
I did so, for a handful, stringing on cotton balls between them for spacing, and then Christmas was over. The next year, pulling the project out again, I decided it was too “busy” for the tree, so there they sat…until this year, where they’ve been resurrected in a new project (coming soon) and the garland has come to fruition with the help of SouleMama’s Handmade Home book. Felt square garland? Got a million felt scraps. Done. And it was just the ticket. ‘Of course’, Andrew remarked. ‘It’s only fitting that we have some fabric on the tree. That’s perfect.’ (Yep. Still love that man.)
Oh boy, do I have a fondness for quirky handmade ornaments. Is it because I’m a Maker myself that I am constantly “rescuing” the discarded handmade? It’s a calling I take quite seriously. And the more amateur, (goofy, forlorn) the better. This reindeer is one of my favorites. Here’s another, below.
And the Sock Monkey. Sigh. A tradition in my husband’s family; I’m a little foggy on the specifics. I think they always hung one on the tree? Then, the year all three (grown) sons received one of their very own, they lost no time reliving their particular tradition, which involved manipulating the monkey’s bendy legs and tail. Mostly tail. Naughty, naughty boys. And each year, on our very own tree, the Monkey is proudly displayed as an homage to Boyish Naughtiness. It’s fine with me; we don’t live in a church. I do try to be aware of him though, and adjust him to a less vulgar, less erect pose if we’re expecting visitors who are not so “cultured.” So far Isadora’s not noticed anything amiss. Daddio can handle that one when she does, probably next year. Heads-up, Daddio.
And shining atop our tree for the second year in a row is our porcupine. Born of equal parts necessity and whimsy, we needed a topper, having found our fiber optic angel a wee garish for our changing tree aesthetic. At hand was this porcupine made from some kind of bark pieces. All it needed was a star on its back to fit the requirements as a topper. That was easy. I basked in my apparent cleverness, thinking I’d created the perfect topper that was so us. (it was, and still is) Then we came upon this Children’s book, and thought that maybe someone was spying on us. Note to Santa: this book would be a good addition to the Christmas library.
So there you have it. Why not join us for some of Andrew’s World Famous Eggnog (courtesy of the Lovely Ladies) and bask it its cheery warmth?
Snow Day!
A blizzard brings with it many things.
To us, it brought over a foot of heavy, sticky snow.
It brought a buzz of excitement as, the night before, we trimmed the tree and hunkered down for the snow storm that would define all snow storms to come.
It brought a day off of work and school.
It brought some sewing time in the studio to work on the handmade portion of Sew Liberated’s Holiday Traditions Exchange.
It brought snow-caked hats and mittens and overalls drip-dropping by the woodstove.
And it brought a rugged man in long johns and a princess in pearls together over a bowl of frosty blue sugar crystals for the shared purpose of molasses cookies.
It may not have been Bring-Snowmen-to-Life-caliber snow, but it was no less magical.
Sweater Mitten Tutorial!
It’s here, it’s here! As promised, the Sweater Mitten Tutorial is ALL YOURS, with plenty of time to whip out a dozen pairs for the Holidays.
These are patterns I’ve used dozens of times, so many times that I’d rather not make them in bulk ever again. The patterns were given to me by a kind and generous woman in Northern Wisconsin who whips out dozens of them each year, both for her family and to sell. It was in this spirit of generosity and crafting for the greater good that I’ve decided to in turn, share the patterns with you. Through my own use, I’ve made my own modifications, omitting the turned cuff that you may have seen as part of many sweater mittens, and modifying the fit slightly. But more than that, I’ve consolidated the hundreds of hours of know-how I’ve logged making these myself, and distilled it into a four page tutorial complete with pictures and diagrams. While I’ve pored over the details for many hours, trying to be concise and as clear as possible, I don’t doubt that some polishing can be done. Please do share your feedback, good and constructive. To facilitate this, I’ve created a Flickr group to both showcase and discuss the patterns and our magnificent results. Go see for yourself and share your own results!
http://www.flickr.com/groups/fivegreenacres/
To print: You’ll need to print all 5 pdf docs. When printing the actual patterns (front, back – top, back-bottom) BE SURE TO PRINT at 100% or the scale will be off.
All right. Now get sewing!
Etsy Shop Update
Just in time for the holidays, my Etsy shop now reflects all of my inventory. In it, you’ll find the remaining Re+New Baby organic clothing, including the new Top & Bottom sets I created from comfy, upcycled yoga pants.
Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve never met a baby that didn’t look like a million bucks in these colors. Girl or boy. (I’ve dressed both)
And I’d forgotten just how soft this luxurious, whisper-soft organic cotton is compared to almost any other onesies out there. Imagine my *horror* when unpacking all of the newborn onesies that Isadora wore before Re+New Baby was born, unpacking them for my soon-to-be-born baby. I raided my inventory to restock his drawers faster than you can say “crappy-see-through-onesie.”
AND! I’ve also decided to offer short-run collections for child play, inspired by the materials I have on hand. First up: these playful Lil’ Explorer Gathering Bags. Inspired by both SouleMama and Maya*Made, I drafted my own riff and created a run of 20 bags from a perfectly-suited canvas tablecloth. It afforded 20 bags; when they’re gone, they’re gone. But by that time, they will likely be back filled with something equally wonderful.
Back on Monday with the eagerly-anticipated Sweater Mitten Tutorial! I promise.
Not much ranks above napping.
There was that one day, several weeks ago, when The Boy awoke from his normally-scheduled morning nap after only a half hour. That’s about 1 1/2 hours shorter than the allotted time, which also delightfully (for me) coincides with The Girl’s time at Preschool. The time it took for my brain to race from Panic! to Realization! to Solution! makes my head spin when I think of it now.
Panic: What-are-you-doing-up?!!-Go-back-to-sleep-This-is-MY-time-We-had-a-deal-Don’t-make-me-crazy!
Realization: Oh. I see the sun pouring in, boring a hole through your delicate, paper-thin eyelids. My bad.
Solution: Curtains. Now. Very dense, light-blocking curtains. Now.
I immediately picked up said Girl from said Preschool and carted the whole gang into town to find some damn curtains, because we would NOT be missing any more naps. Ever again.
Given this supposed sense of urgency, it seemed logical to try the normal approach to getting curtains, (buying them already made!) but what with these curtains, a smashingly successful Anthropologie homage, and also these for my firstborn, it seemed that my only option was to in fact make them myself. And to make them awesome, of course, if I love The Boy as much as The Girl, which, let the record show, I do.
So I found some black-out fabric on sale at Joann’s, found this gorgeous fabric that I’d been admiring for many months from a seller on Etsy, and started sewing. Once Errol resumed his post as Reliable Napper the very next day, I realized that the prior incident was in fact an isolated one, thankfully, so I took my time sewing. The fabric itself is the brown architectural footprint design on natural; the monochromatic orange squares were cut from my stash and appliqued by me.
I was on such a roll that I even managed to eke out a matching duvet for the comforter in his crib. The mini down comforter was something that I had cut from a normal size, thrifted down comforter, then washed a million times to eradicate the heebie-jeebies. This was several years ago, for then-baby Isadora’s crib; the duvet’s been on the To Do list for a few years.
A note to all future overnight house guests: we are pleased to report that, upon the addition of curtains to the Guest Bedroom, the room’s rating has risen from a mere 2 stars to 3 1/2! Pack accordingly; you will no longer need to undress in the dark.
Back in a moment.
Well I’ve gone and done it again – fallen into a big black hole. Sorry for the blogging silence of late. I’ve been trying my damnedest to shake this cold, which I’ve now named The Unrelenting Sickness I’ve Had For the Entire Month of November. Add to it Thanksgiving, the Craftacular, and other normal obligations and you can very well imagine how my head has been spinning for the last several weeks. But I think I’ve begun to find my equilibrium (she says foolishly in the weeks preceding Christmas). There is SO MUCH to tell you and show you. We’ll begin tomorrow. Get ready. Buckle up. Let’s go!
