Merry Christmas!

Christmas, western culture's winter holiday, is named after a great man who influenced hundreds of people during his life, maybe thousands. Since his death large numbers of people have embraced what is claimed to be his philosophy, interpreted by his disciples and written down in the Christian Bible.  In modern times Christian religions have attracted millions of members, claiming Jesus Christ as their founder and the inspiration for their teachings, and also claiming, in most cases, that he is the son of god. Christ's influence is so great that we count our years from his arbitrarily chosen birthday. It's now 2014AD, two thousand and fourteen years after the birth of Christ. So, Merry Christmas to all people whose calendars mark December 25th to be Christmas Day, regardless of your religious affiliation or lack thereof. No need, in my book, to change this greeting to "Happy Holidays".

But Christians do not have a monopoly on this joyful winter festival simply because of its accepted name. Non-Christians, secularists, atheists, humanists, even people of different faiths celebrate the season as well. Santa Claus, Christmas trees and lights, family, friends, neighbors, feasting, gift giving, and parties play an important part in nearly everyone's Christmas, including Christians. It's a way to brighten the gloom of winter's darkest days.

Some form of winter celebration has always been a part of history. Christmas is nothing new.  Over time the feast name and reason for celebration has been changed. (A good source about Christmas in history is "Christmas Before Christ: The Surprising Truth! - United Church of God, www.ucg.org/christian-living/christmas-christ-surprising-truth.")  Where did Christmas and our traditional forms of celebration come from?

"In the Roman Empire, by the time of Christ, Saturnalia, winter festival, was well known and established. The Roman Church was unable to get rid of the pagan holiday.  So early in the 4th Century, the Roman Catholic Church, which was the dominant church in Europe, adopted the holiday and tried to convert it into a Christian celebration by declaring December 25 to be the day of the Lord's birth. They called it the Feast of the Nativity. This custom has been part of western culture ever since."  (From "What are the origins of Christmas? | How did Christmas begin ...carm.org/what-are-the-origins-of-christmas.")

"... pagan traditions remained even as Christianity took hold. The Christmas tree is a 17th-century German invention ... but it clearly derives from the pagan practice of bringing greenery indoors to decorate in midwinter. The modern Santa Claus is a direct descendent of England's Father Christmas, who was not originally a gift-giver. However, Father Christmas and his other European variations are modern incarnations of old pagan ideas about spirits who traveled the sky in midwinter..."  (From Pagan Roots? 5 Surprising Facts About Christmas - LiveScience, www.livescience.com/25779-christmas-traditions-history-paganism.html. Dec 22, 2012.)

Christmas, then, is a multifaceted holiday.  Its roots are deep; its traditions are both ancient and more current.  It's basically the celebration of the winter solstice, the beginning of lengthening days. And if you are Christian, it's also a birthday celebration.

An Alien in My Head

It's December now, a couple of months since the alien entered my head. He snuck in so stealthily I'm not even sure when it happened. In hind-sight I think I may remember a sudden little itch near the hairline, right side, while I was sitting at the picnic table with friends enjoying the warm sun and a gin and tonic. Gave it a bit of a scratch, never thought anymore about it until ... well, until I woke up next day with a fairly large bump on my head, like I had whacked it on something.  The bump proceeded to expand into a swelling. I looked like I had bags of water under my eyes. Hmm, an allergy reaction to something?

Since I had a doctor appointment coming up in 2 days I took allergy tabs and waited. The doctor said you're not taking enough allergy meds so I began taking the maximum dosage on the label. That was Thursday. By Sunday the swelling had taken over the entire right side of my face so I beat it into emergency. The doctor there gave me prednisone, a tab a day, and it worked - swelling gone by the following Thursday. Maybe I was imagining the alien? Like it says on those TV commercials - just allergies.

The kids and grandkids arrived for a welcome and infrequent visit on Friday. Overnight the alien kicked up a fuss.  I woke in the morning knowing another trip to emergency was inevitable. The right side of my face looked like it belonged to someone else, someone unrecognizable and kinda scary. This time the doctor in emergency figured I had an abscessed tooth and gave me a prescription for an antibiotic. That night we had a birthday party for my granddaughter's friend, played music, had a fine sing-a-long, a great time except for the obvious presence of the alien which we all, including myself, managed (pretended) to ignore. Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy ....

I saw my dentist on Tuesday. He couldn't find any sign of an abscess. By Thursday the alien had again slipped into hiding. I saw the doctor at the clinic and he gave me the all-clear to visit my sister in the States. As far as the alien was concerned my 2 weeks in the States were uneventful. Maybe there was no alien, never was, and, if there was he'd moved on to another host...

But the alien kicked up havoc once again. Soon after returning home from my holiday I broke off a tooth - an important tooth - one which was absolutely necessary in holding in a partial plate I'd had for years. Now how did the alien manage that? This tooth proved to be unfixable and set into motion a series of events leaving me with an entire new set of upper teeth, unable to bite, barely able to chew, and feeling like I have a golf ball in my mouth. I am adjusting. I choke a lot less now. I ate a potato chip today!

My doctor says the continual pressure I feel in my forehead is nerves that were affected by the initial swelling and that I could expect to have this odd feeling for maybe 6 months or even a year.  But I know better.  It's not damaged nerves, it's "you know who". He's sleeping in there.

This leads me to wonder, what else does the alien have in store for me?

Winter Arrived Today

           Winter Arrived Today

November 8, 2014, Winter arrived today.

Snow is here, -10 degrees,

Sweep the car off, scrape the windshield,

Warm it up before moving.

Unploughed roads, no centre line, 

Log trucks spread white-outs as they zip by.

Highway slush ridges pull at the wheels.

Mental adjustment not yet accomplished

For safe driving or dressing warm.

It's a white knuckle day.

Can't get warm, heat's up, fire's going, 

A clammy dampness has crawled in

Causing arthritic joints to complain.

Semi-darkness seeps inside from overcast skies.

Looks like my dog is wearing white frozen socks.

Need a comfort food and flannel nightie combo,

Cinnamon toast, a nice cup of tea with honey.

A fuzzy blanket, a chick flick, 

My dog curled up by my feet.

Winter arrived today, November 8, 2014

Grandma's Walk Around the Farm

Gonna keep on walking as long as I'm able

Use trekking poles to keep me stable.

A cell phone along for a just-in-case

And heaven knows I ain't runnin' no race!

The pigeons scatter in frantic flight

The moment I arrive within their sight.

The ewes in unison turn to stare,

Their guardian barks to show she's there.

The air is sweet, I feel refreshed

But stop to breathe when I reach a crest.

The grass sways a bit in the gentle breeze,

My feet rustle soft in the fallen leaves.

The sun shines bright, the sky is blue,

There's a trace of frost from the morning dew.

The dogs give chase for scent and sound,

Return to my side, then outward bound.

There is no doubt within my mind

I'm richer by far than the monied kind.

Cause money can't buy the way I feel

With sun on my head and dogs at my heel.

The Litter Box

I recently helped my sister go through some of my parents papers which have been sitting in her basement for over 20 years since they died.  My mother kept everything, birthday cards, 5 year diaries, receipts, love letters, newspaper articles, you name it.  It was a difficult chore but had to be done because my sister is pre-planning her eventual move into a smaller place.  Years ago both my mom and my mom-in-law sent me all the letters I had written in the 70's and 80's, a time when my husband, son and I were more or less homesteading, i.e. we lived quite primitively compared to usual North American standards and slowly built our farm to its current "modern" state.  I have plans, plans yet to be executed, to delve through all these letters and try to write a sort of story style history of our back-to-the-land experience. The following story, however, found among my mom's stuff, was written when my son was in high school and I was working part-time locally as a bookkeeper.

**************

October, 1991

      Last July we went visiting one evening at our friends Florence and Steve's. In amongst our more lofty conversations on farming and politics Florence and I got to talking about kitty litter boxes, the main issue, of course, being stink!  For years our cat box has been in our spare room but we were expecting overnight guests to sleep there.  I couldn't expect them to sleep in the cat's toilet so I tried putting Ms Kitty Cat's box in my office under my drafting board. A few days of that convinced me it wasn't a viable alternative.  Since we have no porch or basement this annoyance graduated to a real problem.  Well Florence had THE answer and off we went to the bottom of her stairs to view it first hand.  What a marvelous kitty litter box she had!  It had a hood over the top and a charcoal filter to soak up some of the ammonia smell, and I wanted one now, now, now.

      Ever since that day I kept my eyes open and looked here and there, whenever I got to here and there which is not very often, and I never did find a marvelous litter box like Florence's.  I tried moving the litter box into the bathroom where I could open a window just above it, and I changed it a lot more often. This was better but I nearly came undone when our young dog Jenny was in heat.  We kept her in the house to avoid unwanted breeding and she, unfortunately, took to digging in the box every chance she got.  Uck!  Non-stinky cat litter boxes were beginning to invade my dreams! I began to construct special cat box stations in hide-away places in my mind, and drop hints on my husband's head, he being the household builder of whatever needed building.  But you can imagine just how far down the list he'd place the construction of a special place for a litter box.

      You may be starting to wonder why I just didn't go buy a litter box like Florence's.  It's my quirky personality that stopped me I guess. When I go to town I'm on a mission.  I have my list and I'm not a shopper.  Like I told my son, if all consumers were like me the economy of Canada would suffer dearly.  But about a month ago I had a bit of extra time so I stopped in at a recently opened pet store to see if they had a hooded cat box.  The proprietor said he had just sold his last one but would be glad to order one for me. It should be in on Monday.  Yippie!

      Monday came and went but I couldn't or wouldn't go to town that day - going to town always seems to take up a whole day and I usually come back a couple of hundred dollars poorer and in a rotten mood.  But by the following Wednesday I made a special effort to go in.  Alas the pet store owner's supplier was all out of hooded cat boxes so I was once again out of luck.  I left my name and number and said - if you ever...  And more time passed by.

     In the mean time my cat had taken to hanging her behind on the outside of her box and peeing on the floor.  I know, I know, most sane people would by now have chucked the cat outside on a permanent basis, but she's old and not used to the cold weather.  Besides, I love her.

     Last Wednesday morning my husband said, "By the way, the pet store called and your litter box is in."
      "When did he call?" I said.
      "I don't know, last week some time, I think I told you, didn't I?"  I didn't say very nice things after that.  My husband said he needed to go to town that day and would pick it up for me.

But he forgot.

Undaunted I sent my son with my car and a signed cheque on Friday and told him to pick it up for me.  He stayed in town after school and went to a party that night, coming home in the wee hours of the morning.  So Saturday when I got up I looked around the house for my new box, then in the back seat of my car, then in the trunk.  No box.  Well that was it for me.  I turned into a complete bitch, screamed and yelled at my husband when he woke up, lectured my son about how he was getting just like his father, how habits like these were formed at his age, and announced that I was going to town to get the damn thing myself, and maybe I'd buy a new shirt, and have a T-bone steak for lunch!  So, loaded down with a list of building materials to pick up, which I threatened to forget, I flew into town.

The pet store was closed.

Today I sent my son in again with my car.  When I returned home from work my new cat box was sitting in the entry way.  But it was not really new.  My son had left school with a friend, saying he was heading to the pet store to pick up my litter box, and his friend said heck, his cat had recently died and we might as well have his cat's old box, proving once again my theory that if you want something bad enough, long enough, and strong enough, it eventually finds its way into your life from a direction you least expect.

Silence Is Not Always Golden

       Here in North America we enjoy, and take for granted, freedoms and affluence not available or even possible in many other parts of the world.  We live our lives in reasonable security, working hard for our families, pursuing our dreams. But hold on! There's an ideological war going on out there! Things could change! Our bubble could burst!

      For the most part, if you ascribe to the thought pattern that we may as well just go on with life, we can't do anything about any of it anyhow, you may be in the main quite correct.  But there is one thing we can do.  We can break the silence.

       In some ways the world has gone completely mad, not just "over there" but within our own borders as well. This may be due to poverty, lack of opportunity, hopelessness.  But can the unaffected insulate themselves forever?  There are RADICAL and EXTREME RELIGIOUS VIEWS causing havoc and steering policy in today's world. Should we accept these views through silence?

       We hear over and over that Muslim extremists like IS (ISIS), al-Qaeda, Boko Haram and others do not represent the beliefs of moderate Muslims. Yet these groups are actively engaged in warfare against those who do not share their beliefs. Why aren't moderate Muslims speaking up?  It seems to me that their lives would be severely altered should an extremist caliphate be established throughout the Middle East. Moderate Muslims need to unite against the incursion of IS in their territories before it's too late, before it becomes a crime against a newly established state to speak or act at all.    

       Why is national policy in the United States (and here in Canada) so pro Israel, so quiet and accepting about their policies with regard to the Palestinian people? Many moderate Christians living in the North America believe that Israel's treatment of the Palestinians is tantamount to war crimes.  Why do they keep silent about Israel's actions in Gaza and the West Bank?

       I saw an opinion piece on Facebook written by a moderate American who spoke up about what she felt were atrocities committed by the Israelis against the Palestinians. Americans who speak out, she said, are immediately labelled anti-Semite, a black label for people in business or people in positions of influence, such as teachers. It seems that criticism of Israel's policy has become equivalent to criticism of the entire Jewish faith - and after the holocaust no one wants to be seen as an enemy of the Jews.

      Why are moderate opinion holders keeping silent? Is it fear of being caught on the wrong side of the fence, fear of societal repercussions whether real or imagined, fear of insulting the beliefs or sensibilities of our colleagues, our neighbors, an ethnic group? How often do we, while holding strong convictions, keep silent in a group when we disagree totally with a concept they hold?  Because for the most part it works.  It maintains the peace and allows us to live together in reasonable harmony.  Don't upset the apple cart.  Avoid conflict.  Everyone has a right to their opinion...

       On the other hand, if we always remain silent how can others of like mind ever realize they are not alone in their thoughts, that others, perhaps many others, are questioning what appears to be the status quo.  If we do not speak out we are in danger of having radical minorities control our lives.  Silence is acceptance and acceptance of divergent views defines a free society.  But when these views become dangerous to the freedoms we hold dear, to the safety and human rights of others, then silence can be ominous.

       The "Holy Books" in both the Christian and Muslim religions contain passages that are violent and extreme.  These words, written by men who may have been considered intelligent, even scholars in their time, in the 21st century are ignorant passages and, when taken literally by followers of these religions, can be dangerous to those who do not adhere to these teachings. They have passages that denigrate women, that call for the death of unbelievers. They tell stories, allegorical fables, which some believe to be literally true. They contain information which over time has been proven to be totally false by the advancement of science.  Scholars, holy men, those who have taken on the responsibility of interpreting these books for the masses must look at these "words of God" for what they really are, words of men, men who were doing their best to explain the confusing world they lived in and who were speaking from a society that is vastly different from that of today.  Interpretation of these religious books must adapt to modernity if people of different faiths and people adhering to no religious faith are going to be able to co-exist within individual countries and throughout the world. Going back to beliefs held in the Middle Ages, negating, even physically destroying, all that has been learned and accomplished since is not the answer to a better world.

  ***********************

         From an opinion  piece by Paul Merek which appeared in his blog in 2006 and was published by the Israel National News in 2007:                                                                                                      

       "The fact is that the fanatics rule Islam at this moment in history. It is the fanatics who march. It is the fanatics who wage any one of 50 shooting wars world wide. It is the fanatics who systematically slaughter Christian or tribal groups throughout Africa and are gradually taking over the entire continent in an Islamic wave. It is the fanatics who bomb, behead, murder, or execute honor killings. It is the fanatics who take over mosque after mosque. It is the fanatics who zealously spread the stoning and hanging of rape victims and homosexuals. The hard, quantifiable fact is that the 'peaceful majority' is the 'silent majority,' and it is cowed and extraneous.

       History lessons are often incredibly simple and blunt; yet, for all our powers of reason, we often miss the most basic and uncomplicated of points. Peace-loving Muslims have been made irrelevant by the fanatics. Peace-loving Muslims have been made irrelevant by their silence. Peace-loving Muslims will become our enemy if they don’t speak up, because ... they will awaken one day and find that the fanatics own them, and the end of their world will have begun...

       As for us, watching it all unfold, we must pay attention to the only group that counts: the fanatics who threaten our way of life."  

*********************

       This following excerpt from the article, "THE RAPTURE FACTOR" which originally appeared on Beliefnet in 2002, may help to explain the importance of full support for Israel by far right wing Christians.

       "Evangelicals support Israel because of biblical prophecy, including passages that tie the survival of Israel to the Second Coming of Jesus.

       According to their reading of the Bible, God established a covenant with Abraham in the Book of Genesis. Essentially, says Beliefnet columnist Richard Land, a Southern Baptist leader with close ties to the Bush Administration, evangelicals support Israel because they believe "God blesses those that bless the Jews and curses those who curse the Jews. Consequently, we believe America needs to bless the Jews and Israel, because if we bless the Jews and support Israel, God blesses us. And if we don't, God curses us."

       "But it goes beyond that. The establishment--and continuation--of the State of Israel is essential to set the stage for the imminent return of Jesus. At the time of the Second Coming, these Christians believe, Jesus will descend from heaven, subdue all of Israel's enemies and take believers to heaven in what is known as the Rapture--literally, they will ascend to the clouds to be in heaven. This series of events ushers in the end-times. According to conservative Christians' reading of the Book of Revelation, this won't happen unless Israel exists in the Holy Land."

My Path in the Woods

           The chaos of life, the world's frantic pace

           Can soon disappear in this beautiful place.

           It cushions my mind, cloaks me in peace,

           Softens my troubles, sets me at ease.

                This is my path, my path in the woods.

           The trees, they caress, the sun filters down.

           There's grasses and mushrooms, an absence of sound

           'Till leaves rustle gently, a bird calls his mate,

           A mouse skitters swiftly avoiding his fate

                While walking my path, my path in the woods.

           Strawberries, raspberries, cranberries bloom,

           Competing with hazelnut bushes for room.

           Saskatoons, honeysuckle, pea-vine and vetch

           Tango with aspen and spruce while they stretch

                Toward the sun 'long my path, my path in the woods.

           My senses are sharpened, my mind is at ease,

           My energy blends with the bushes' and trees'.

           The meaning of life in the scent of a rose.

           The soft forest floor massages my toes.

                Soft steps on my path, my path in the woods.

          

Home Invasion

Spring, 2013

       One day last spring my husband and I were outside doing spring things when my husband said, "Where did those come from?" Two pigeons were roosting on the beams above our balcony, then three. Never before had we had any pigeons living on our farm and at first we thought it was sorta cool. At first.
       Soon there were four, and finally five. They cooed and cooed - ceaselessly. We soon discovered that pigeons are rarely quiet. They had fights or played pigeon games on our metal roof making quite a racket with their large pigeon feet. But these were minor intrusions. We became alarmed when they began to make their home deep inside our roof, between the rafters, snuggled up where we never expected or wanted any critter to reside. And our little balcony had become their waste disposal system, making it most unpleasant and creating an ongoing clean-up operation.
       As the summer unfolded pigeon talk became increasingly frequent. We searched the net for more information about pigeons. We discovered that their young stayed in the nest quite a bit longer than most birds, that the squabs, as they're called, are good eating, and that you can catch them at night, blinding them with a flashlight into immobility. My brother-in-law sent a website of pigeon recipes, some of which looked pretty enticing. Pigeons historically  played a huge role in food production and amazing buildings were erected to house them. My husband began to do a fine imitation of the pigeon walk, getting a laugh out of our friends while we sat at the picnic table pigeon watching. But we didn't relish the idea of eating them. We didn't really want to harm them at all. We just wanted them to find a different place to live. The only answer to our dilemma was to destroy their cosy roost by completing the soffit.

     We already had scaffolding in place because our planned and now completed summer project was the erection of new solar panels. So, after removing two pigeon eggs from deep inside the roof, soffit construction began. This was hard work in awkward back wrenching positions. The pigeons looked on and, as the roof began to close in, were encouraged to depart - we thought.       The soffit was nearly complete, only the trim remained, when I looked up and saw pigeon feet walking on the screened in beam. (The screen was there to aerate the roof.)  Now this screen was stapled in with an air gun and was strong because we had previously had a squirrel problem and they had destroyed our screen vents on the other side of the roof. We knew ordinary screen was insufficient. No way was this screen coming down! But my big hearted man grudgingly removed the screws on one panel of the soffit and out popped the pigeon. Yippie, now we could finish up and relax - we thought.
       Several days later while walking past the balcony I heard an almost inaudible peep, peep, peep above my head.  "I think there's baby pigeons in the roof!" I said. My husband was in denial, accused me of hearing things. But on the fourth day I again saw pigeon feet on the screen, baby pigeon feet. On looking over his well constructed soffit, the scaffolding now gone and the acrobatics required to do anything at all not exactly a pleasing thought, my husband said, "too .... bad!" We both felt terrible but also somewhat resigned to being pigeon murderers. "Good thing the grand-girls aren't here," I said, "they'd have us tearing the whole roof apart!"  With this I headed off to town.
       When I got home my husband announced "I got them out!"
       "You did! Great! How?" I said.
       "They walked on the screened beam between the rafters and reached the overhang where there's no insulation, climbed to the peak and down the other side to the old screen the squirrels wrecked and I saw one peeping out the hole. So I made the hole bigger and out one flew, then the other. They're both in the barn loft now."

From our point of view, a happy ending to the pigeon invasion. From the pigeon's point of view? Well they still visit, roosting on the solar panels and doing their thing, but it seems they've found somewhere to winter in the barn. Their babies remained in the loft until they could fly better.  You could practically walk right up to them. They just remained frozen in place.  But I know they survived because I saw seven pigeons circling the barn just the other day. And,  if their future numbers become too great, well, even we have our limit.  There's always that pigeon recipe website.


Update 2014

The pigeons are thriving, maybe better than we'd like. They now number 16 and we're thinking about building a roost to harvest their awesomely good droppings for garden fertilizer. I did say "thinking" though. We have tons of easily accessible sheep manure which makes bird dropping collection seem a bit too much like one of those make work projects. Back to the squab idea, maybe...

Bumbling Through Honeyberry Wine

Wine making time! Fifteen pounds (give or take) of honeyberries were thawed and ready to use so into my primary fermentor bucket they went. (This is basically a white plastic garbage can purchased in a wine supply store but I suspect any plastic garbage can never used for anything else would work fine.) I use a recipe for raspberry wine, originally from the "Wine Art Recipe Booklet, Metric Addition, but with adjustments and notes to self I've made over the past three years. The original recipe was metric, which I have a hard time coping with, so I re-wrote it using my conversion calculator into pounds, quarts, cups, teaspoons, etc.

To the fruit I added 22 cups of sugar; 2 1/2 teaspoons of yeast nutrient; 10 crushed Campden tablets; 2 1/2 teaspoons of strong steeped black tea (substitute for grape tannin); 5, oops, 2 1/2 teaspoons of Vinacid (acid blend for fruit wines - a combo of citric, malic, and tartaric acids); and 11 quarts of hot water - then stirred to dissolve the sugar. The "oops" on the Vinacid occurred because I didn't have enough, needed 5 t, had 2 1/2, so I improvised and added one Tablespoon of lemon juice. This was the first of several glitches that came my way.

My recipe calls for 22 quarts of water, the second 11 to be added cold. But I like to check the specific gravity after the 16th quart of water is added.  Starting specific gravity should be from 1.085-1.090. To increase specific gravity add more sugar, to decrease add more water. Here's where I ran into my second glitch, I simply could not remember how to read a hygrometer! So off to the internet where I found a very clear explanation at this site.

How To Use Hygrometer To Check Specific Gravity Of ...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cy53yhOk8c

Now honeyberries are quite tart so when I read the hygrometer I wasn't surprised that I needed to add more sugar so I did until the hygrometer reading was 1.090. Then I noticed that the sugar wasn't totally stirred in! Stirred it in and the reading changed so I had to add more water to get the reading correct again. Now satisfied, I added 2 1/2 teaspoons of peptic enzyme powder. The mash was still too hot to add the yeast so I went to a friend's house to borrow some Vinacid, came home and added it so hopefully the lemon juice I added won't cause an imbalance.

So I looked at my wine mash and began thinking the berries were not sufficiently crushed. I wanted to get as much juice as possible from the berries, after all that's where the flavour comes from, so I washed up to my elbows and plunged in, squeezing berries with my hands (previous practice from goat milking) - and guess what! The hygrometer reading changed once again!  Had to add more sugar.  Yeast is supposed to be added when the thermometer reads from 21 - 23C. This just wasn't going to happen.  It was over 28 outside and nearly as hot inside so no wonder.  Finally I sprinkled 2 packets of wine yeast on top. I felt pretty safe doing this because it felt cool to the touch, much cooler than the liquid for bread making when I add yeast to it.  I put a plastic bag over the top, stirred it daily, and began checking the hygrometer reading at day 4. By day 5 the reading was 1.030. Time to strain out the pulp into a fine mesh bag and squeeze out as much juice as possible. This was a big chore, husband not at home to help with lifting, holding, pouring so I did the dip with a sieve into the mash, dump into the bag, squeeze, empty bag, and repeat until it was done.  This proved to be quite messy and a lot of clean-up was required.  They must use honeyberries in natural dyes cause it's sure hard to get off walls and floors!

I discovered a part missing from one of my fermentation locks so could only use the big carboy and one jug, had to dump about 3 quarts of starter wine that wouldn't fit. But it's all working now! Will rack in 10 days (siphon off and dump the sludge at the bottom, wash the carboy and re-fill - the wine reduces in quantity as the sludge is removed eliminating the extra jug).  I'll rack again in a month, then wait until it clears and stops fermenting. Then I'll wash the bottles with a sterilizing solution, rinse, and siphon the wine from the carboy into the bottles and cork.  I'll taste some then but a little age is better so down into the root cellar it will go until, well .... until I can't wait any more.

Honeyberry Bonanza

Here's how it all began...

"How many honeyberries would it take to make a batch of wine?" said my friends who were at the time overwhelmed by masses of honeyberries hanging from their tall, overladen honeyberry bushes.

"I'd need about 15 pounds," I said. "What are honeyberries anyhow?"

So, here's what I learned about honeyberries from my friends. They bloom really early and the blossoms are quite frost hardy. The berries arrive early in the season, make good jam and are pretty tart.  They're purple, elongated globes with very small seeds and we have millions of them!!!

I also looked them up on Wikipedia and learned that their Latin name is Lonicera caerulea and that honeyberries are a honeysuckle deciduous shrub native throughout the cool temperate Northern Hemisphere (in other words, home sweet home).

A few days later my friends arrived with a pail of honeyberries.  "These are for you to do whatever you want," they said.  "We'll bring you some more for wine in a day or two."  And they did - three more pails, each weighing 7 pounds!  Wow! Thank-you to my good friends! So I put 15 pounds in the freezer (freezing the fruit helps extract the juice) and the rest in a big pot on the stove.

Now "honeyberry" is a bit of a misnomer because honey is not the first thing that strikes your mind when you pop one in your mouth.  They have a grape-like texture and a bit of a bite. But additional sugar, a little more than I use for rhubarb juice (which is 1 cup/litre for a concentrate that with added water makes 2 litres of very refreshing juice - a summer time favourite here), and the result was yummmmmy!  I strained off the pulp and bottled the juice for syrup, but the pulp still looked pretty good so I decided to try for fruit leather.  I simmered the pulp for a short time with some added honey, pressed it into a thin (less than 1/4 inch) layer on 2 cookie sheets on top of some parchment paper, and baked it for hours and hours at the lowest setting on my oven (170F).  I finally decided it was never going to lose its stickiness so I took it out, left it on the parchment, cut it into strips, and rolled up my leather.  Talk about delicious!  I'm storing it in the fridge, since I have no idea how long it will keep, and giving pieces to everyone that comes by.

Now I'm torn. I was planning on getting another black current bush for my berry garden but honeyberries may be a better choice. The black currents have been sporadic producers and I haven't had a lot of luck with them (ahhh but I love black current jam!).  It may be time to dig up and replace some non or poor producers in my berry garden. Next year....

Will be making the wine soon and when it's done, if it's tasty, I'll share the recipe.

Suspect Ancestry

We were relaxing at a BBQ after a long hot day in the sun. Our neighbor's little girl was trying hard not to stare at my bare feet and green toes, but not succeeding very well.

I smiled and said, "They're Hobbit feet. You know Hobbits? Like in 'The Lord of the Rings', Hobbit feet, short, square, green."

"Naa," her Dad said, "they're not Hobbit feet. Hobbits have longer toes, and their feet are hairy and really big compared to the size of their body. You definitely don't have Hobbit feet. But they are pretty weird ones."

"Girl Hobbits are different," I said, "no hair, green, smaller."

"Ahh, come on, you're not a Hobbit!".

"No, you're right, I'm not, but my great grandmother was," I said, "so I'm part. I got the feet from her I guess."

The little girl listened to all this, eyes wide, taking it all in. It's not everyone who gets to meet someone who's part Hobbit. In the end I did own up to the truth. I admitted my toes were grass stained from walking behind the mower. Nevertheless I wouldn't be surprised if she still thinks my great grandma was a Hobbit.

Barn Swallow Luck

They say having a barn swallow nest above your door is good luck. I guess I must be lucky!
The day after I took this pic these babies left the nest. Until they got good at flying they perched on my Christmas lights and waited for mom and dad to feed them. Now a new nest is being built above my front window for the next batch of babies to hatch.

A Series of Questions

When will we ever learn?

What ever happened to unbiased media reporting? 

When did news reporting become headline grabbing sensationalism? 

How can a person trust the news when it is so obviously slanted? 

How can politicians in any country be trusted when they jump to convenient conclusions prior to getting the facts? 

How can blame for any act of terror be placed on the country that supplied the weapons when every major country in the world profits from the sale of armaments? 

Why must countries meddle in the politics of other countries, taking both overt and covert action to further their own agenda? 

Why can't an embargo be placed on the arms dealers who supply weapons of war to anyone who will pay? 

Why can't we realize that there's more than one side to every story, not just the side that promotes our own economy or ideology? 

Why do we promote endless war? 

When will we understand that God isn't on any country's side? 

How often have we discovered, years later, that we supported the wrong side of a conflict?

Must history always repeat itself?

Why can't we figure out that violence begets violence, that nothing will ever be solved by violence? 

Is there any hope for the future of the human race? 

When will we ever learn, when will we ever learn???? 

Earth's Lament

I wrote this poem while sitting in a parking lot staring at pavement waiting for my husband.

                         Earth's Lament

I am the earth and I need to breathe,

Feel the wind through my grasses and the leaves of my trees,

Wake fresh in the morning with the dew on my chest,

Wrinkle, roll and stretch from the east to the west,

Bathe in the rain and bask in the sun,

Shine in the moonlight when my workday is done.

I am the earth and I must see the sky,

Deprive me of this, I'll get sick, I could die.

You cover me in black, build parking lots and roads,

Reshape my body for your diamonds and gold,

Draw out fluids from deep within my bowels,

Mine my skin, plug my veins, make air and water foul.

You harvest my forests and the rains fail to come;

You puzzle on this but when all's said and done

You don't change your ways or notice me crying,

I must be renewed!  I am sick, I am dying!

I am the earth and I need to breathe,

Feel the wind through my grasses and the leaves of my trees,

Wake fresh in the morning with the dew on my chest,

Wrinkle, roll and stretch from the east to the west,

Bathe in the rain and bask in the sun,

Shine in the moonlight when my workday is done.

I am the earth and I must see the sky,

Please remember these things, I don't want to die.

by Mary Lynn Tipton

Labelling GMO's

          A group called SumOfUs.org re-sparked my interest in GMO food labelling by sending around a petition to encourage Costo to keep genetically modified fish from its shelves. This caused me to spend a few hours delving into the Internet jungle on such topics as genetically modified foods, terminator genes, patenting life, intellectual property rights, seed banks and heritage seeds. Here's some of what I found, mainly from Wikipedia.

          Genetically modified foods are foods produced from organisms that have had specific changes introduced into their DNA using the methods of genetic engineering. These techniques have allowed for the introduction of new traits as well as a far greater control over a food's genetic structure than previously afforded by methods such as selective breeding and mutation breeding.... To date, most genetic modification of foods has primarily focused on cash crops in high demand by farmers such as soybean, corn, canola, and cotton seed oil. These have been engineered for resistance to pathogens and herbicides and better nutrient profiles.

          The American Medical Association and the American Association for the Advancement of Science have opposed mandatory labelling of genetically modified food because they said there is no scientific evidence of harm.... (and) that mandatory labelling "can only serve to mislead and falsely alarm consumers".

          On the other side of the coin, some medical associations feel that: "lack of labelling denies health professionals the ability to trace potential toxic or allergic reactions to, and other adverse health effects from, genetically engineered food"

          ... opponents have objected to GM foods on several grounds, including safety issues, environmental concerns, and economic concerns raised by the fact that GM seeds (and potentially animals) that are food sources are subject to intellectual property rights owned by multinational corporations.

          Traditionally, farmers in all nations saved their own seed from year to year. However since the early 1900s hybrid crops have been widely used in the developed world and seeds to grow these crops must be purchased each year from seed producers. The offspring of the hybrid corn, while still viable, lose the beneficial traits of the parents, resulting in the loss of hybrid vigor. In these cases, the use of hybrid plants has been the primary reason for growers not saving seed, not intellectual property issues. However, for non-hybrid biotech crops, such as transgenic soybeans, seed companies use intellectual property law and tangible property common law, each expressed in contracts, to forbid farmers from saving seed. For example, Monsanto has a strong patent portfolio on its genetically modified seed, and it obligates farmers who choose to buy their seeds to sign a license agreement, agreeing that they cannot save seed from their crop to plant in successive years and can use the seed only to grow a crop that they will store or sell.

          Greenpeace International states that: Patenting of GE organisms allows industry to take control of and exploit common organisms and genetic material as exclusive private property that can be sold to or withheld from farmers, breeders, scientists and doctors. Technology agreements and fees on seeds, facilitated by patents, deprive farmers of their generations-old right to freely replant and exchange their seeds. Once a shared heritage, the gene pool of plants, animals and humans is now a commodity waiting to be bought and sold.

WHEW!

          So, should North Americans label GMO foods? Should we even stock such foods on our grocery shelves? If you recognize that the main crops already genetically modified are soybean, corn, canola, and cotton seed oil, and begin to research and recognize that derivatives of these crops are found in practically every existing  processed food product now on grocery shelves, you will begin to see that very little of what we consume has escaped genetic modification entirely. Even some non-processed foods like fruits and vegetables have been genetically modified.  A GMO label could frighten some buyers while others may not care. If people can't afford non-GMO foods (which would probably go up in price), "natural" or "organic" foods, they will go ahead and buy GMO's or avoid these products altogether. Can we say that avoidance is a good nutritional choice? Then, when you get down to the nitty gritty, aren't labels like "natural", "organic", and "free range" also just labels with a vast array of definitions used to attract health conscious individuals? Is SumOfUS's usage of the word "Frankenfood" not also a label?

What is honest about labelling? The claims made on our foods (all products for that matter) are cleverly worded to make us buy. Though they are not actual lies they are misleading to the extreme.  Knowing that the public is highly interested in healthy foods, advertisers can make almost anything appear healthy using the right wording. You can spend hours reading labels and still feel lost and confused.

It would be nice if labels were not subject to these subtle manipulations; if we could actually understand labels without holding a degree in science; if nutrition, quality and good taste were the established criteria for foods we buy rather than the producer's bottom line; if labels didn't lie by exaggeration, omission, and pseudo-scientific jargon; IF LABELS COULD BE TRUSTED - then maybe labelling GMO products would be worthwhile. At the very least it would offer us a choice. But, being a jaded skeptic, I have a feeling that GMO labelling would somehow be skewed, buried in jargon, given a different name, only required if a certain percentage of modification were present, hidden or made to appear advantageous. In no time at all we would be desensitized to the label. We are fairly easy to persuade.

Frankly I don't like the idea of eating GMO products unaware, but the most frightening aspect, I feel, of GMO's is the concept of "intellectual property rights", the patenting of life, the possibility that a multinational corporation can have control over a substance absolutely necessary for life - food. So I'm for keeping seeds, for Heritage Seed Banks, for growing as much of your own food as you can (not just us country folks - urban gardens should be the norm), for the 100 mile diet, for eating foods that are in season rather than expecting them to be available year round, for supporting farmer's markets, and for food (and water) security in all countries. My bottom line - keep the control of food out of the hands of unfeeling, uncaring, unaccountable, money grabbing corporate hogs. If labelling GMO foods will help to facilitate that, I'm all for it.

Please Step Over the Sleeping Dog

by Mary Lynn Tipton

for "Mike"

Please step over the sleeping dog,
His tired bones are old and sore,
Please step over the sleeping dog,
He's earned his place on the kitchen floor.

He served his master through rain and sun,
He worked his heart out all his life,
And when his master went to town
He worked as hard for his master's wife.

His hearing's gone, his eyes are dim,
His legs are weak, he's grown quite thin,
You really shouldn't bother him,
He needs his rest today.

But his ears stand up and his tail wag, wags
When he spies a bitch with her tail a'flag,
And he still drops down to a stylish crouch
When e're there's lambs and ewes about.

His kingdom is a humble farm,
His subjects sheep, their home a barn,
His barking rings a sharp alarm
When strangers come too near.

The other dogs respect his place,
They yield to him with grumbling grace,
Ewes tell their lambs about his power,
With sadness watch his final hours.

When he was young he ran for miles,
He took command, he worked with style,
But now he needs to rest awhile,
Don't push him off the couch.

The younger dogs now do his chores,
He doesn't want to work no more,
He likes a walk, a truck ride too,
But most of all, a pet from you.

Garden Guilt

I have committed a crime, a gardener's crime, for which any gardener's jury, (and I have no doubt such juries, though informal, do exist) would surely find me guilty. I admit it. I did not plant any lettuce this year.

I have faithfully planted lettuce, usually a leaf lettuce variety, every year for eons. And, also every year, I have pulled about 95% of it up and fed it to my sheep. I have observed all my gardening friends' lettuce plots, most large enough to provide salads for daily meals in a Homeless shelter, and wondered how any family could begin to consume the large quantities they plant considering one of two facts. Leaf lettuces bolt, that means they mature quickly, become less palatable, working their way to make seed. Head lettuces (Iceberg, Romaine) all mature at once. What family can deal with 50+ heads of lettuce all ready to eat at the same time?

I looked up the nutritional value of lettuce, found a web site (nutrition-and-you.com, health benefits of lettuce) and discovered a couple of things. Lettuce, especially the darker green lettuce, is really good for you, but I sorta knew that. There's a bit of a catch to that statement though. Most statistics for the value of lettuce are dependant upon a 100 gram serving. Couldn't help but be a bit curious as to what quantity of lettuce makes up 100 grams so out came my kitchen weigh scale. Wow! 100 grams is quite a lot, about 3 cups. Only 15 calories though, until you dress it. But who would want to eat 3 cups of lettuce naked?

I sorta like lettuce, on a burger, in a sandwich, but I'm not much of a salad fan, nor is my husband. I recently discovered a really good method of keeping leaf or Romaine lettuce fresh in the fridge - root end in about an inch of water in a pitcher, covered lightly with a plastic bag - and one pack of organic Romaine hearts last me for weeks.

So this year, yes I admit it, this year my usual one foot square of lettuce did not get planted. Instead I'm keeping that square open for my second planting of spinach, because for me a spinach salad with strawberries and a bit of sweet dressing is yummy. Yes, spinach also bolts, but it is preservable. When it gets away on you and begins to flower you can freeze or can it. Cooked spinach is also good for you. Hey just look at Popeye! Spinach in lasagna too, yum. And nutritional value, way up there. Besides, if I really want local fresh garden lettuce badly enough, I can think of quite a few gardeners who have over-planted and would just love to give some away.