This year's strawberries

We did our annual strawberry picking on Friday. (Last year, two years ago)  It rained, and the actual picking only took about half an hour, before the thunder.  The kids were great sports.

Since bringing the berries home, we've made strawberry kefir pancakes (which became strawberry shortcake for dessert after dinner), strawberries and whipped cream (probably my kids' favorite-ever dessert), and have of course eaten many many berries out of hand.  I've decided not to do jam this year.  My kids prefer honey over jam in most situations, so I still have strawberry jam left over from last year.

I've been reading Tamar Adler's book An Everlasting Meal  over the past couple of weeks, and it has been inspiring.  I am a good cook, but in the past I have learned recipes, for soups and sauces, for example, and then extrapolated on them, instead of cooking individual ingredients well and then combining them into good meals.  This book has inspired me to use whatever herbs I have in the crisper with whichever vegetables are also there-- to cook what's in season and to use all of it: rinds and skins, shells and bones.

And somehow her book has let me admit that while I like to think of myself as the sort of person who makes strawberry jam each year, I'm not really the kind of person whose family eats a whole batch of strawberry jam in a year.  So we're using them as they come to us, and freezing the rest for the now-daily smoothie ritual.  Can't wait for the blackberries and raspberries to come in.

Signs of spring

"Spring, Spring, Spring!" sang the frog.  "Spring!" said the groundhog.  It was spring.

*from Home for a Bunny by Margaret Wise Brown*

Some of my favorite signs of spring around our home.  I always forget how beautiful and delicious these spring artichokes are.  I could eat them for a week.

Dining en plein air

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For the second time this spring.  Hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill.  His special deer mug.  And (always) the attempted escape when the sun goes down and it's time for bed.

Friday

Friday was farm day this week, as the boys were too sick to go on Wednesday. There were record-high 85 degree temperatures yesterday, so we had to stop on the way out for sunscreen. Next week there will be a knapsack for water in addition to the baby carrier, which did well in a pinch to hold sunscreen, cell phone and discarded sunglasses.

We walked over the dam and up the hill and went down the path past the old dairy barn into the woods. Wildflowers were everywhere. Several different kinds of violets, including one that was the palest lavender with a hot pink stamen for each of the five melon-shaped petals. Also buttercups and dandelions (usually I write about buttercups in May!), but the jack-in-the-pulpit hasn't yet bloomed. (I think I also need to bring my camera in the knapsack, although I'm worried I won't be as in the moment if I do...)

Down through the woods and over two little brooks and through to the banks of the Goose. That sweet baby grass is popping up all over, and when we emerged from the woods there were two mama cows and their calves nibbling near the path by the first pole vertical jump. G was delighted, clapping his hands (a relatively new trick) in the carrier and pointing with glee, "Caaa, caaah!" (H: "Yes, Georgie, cows! You're right Georgie!")

We walked down the bank (H all by himself) and out on to the sandbar and H used his walking stick to be an elephant, splashing us with his trunk. He had asked to shed his pants on the walk up the hill so he was free and happy in his underwear and muck boots. G was a little more hesitant, but couldn't resist getting in on the act when H started throwing rocks into the creek. Ker-plunk! I turned around and looked back and both boys were sitting in the creek, March or not.

It was hot walking back through the field to the house. You can see from the photos that G was not so happy about the heat, nor about being required to wear his hat. Picnic on the porch and then the added treat of meeting our new 8-day-old cousin William (-with-more-hair-than-George). Boys slept all the way home. Such a nice farm day.

Dusk

Yesterday at the grocery store I was contemplating buying some flowers for our dining room table. There were bouquets of deep red, magenta, mustard yellow, dahlias and zinnias, sunflowers. But something has shifted in me and I bought the plain white dahlias.

Henry spotted this bluejay feather on a recent walk and he found the broken robin's egg in our yard a few weeks ago. I think they're so beautiful together, and suddenly I'm drawn to those cool blues. I love adding nature finds to our little kitchen windowsill vignette, and I love how the blues and whites seem to creep in organically near the end of the summer.
Last night was the first night that I consciously noticed the dusk coming sooner. In a light rain, the end of the day felt so *summer*, but with a twist of fall. I think I say this every year around this time: I'm so ready.

Cross-country skis

So, getting back in the swing of things... This winter our area has gotten more snow than it has since the 1890's. This is all old news by now, but I thought I'd share a couple of photos of one of the activities we enjoyed during the snow.

We've had our cross-country skis for a few years, but only managed to use them a couple of times at the farm since our town is pretty good about plowing the roads. All that changed during this series of snows. The top photo shows my set-up with the baby. We are on our street during the initial snowfall-- this was before things got really bad and deep. Skiing on the street was pretty easy; the roads are relatively flat and I think the falling snow was distracting Baby H enough that he wasn't doing too much wiggling. A nice leisurely ski with Brian and only a few minor hiccups (like the house where they got a little snowblower-happy).
Fast-forward a week. With the same set-up, I took Baby H out into the "wilds" of Loudoun County, skiing with my friends Karen and Helen at a farm near Karen's house. This was probably more fun, but definitely much harder. First off, there were hills. When I would settle into chair pose to navigate down a slight incline, the baby would throw himself forward (see below--this was during one of our re-mounting adventures) or to the side, asserting his independence, and it was really hard to stay balanced. I think we fell three or four times. It was hard to get back up because without the skis, my legs sunk through the snow, sometimes up to the hip where snow had drifted. But Helen and Karen were troupers and pulled me out of more than one drift. The baby was a sport too, really, and only cried once. I think he was just taking it all in.

All in all, I'm really glad we got out there despite our limitations (small child, less-than-usually-coordinated mama). And it makes a great story to tell Henry someday about the Great Snow of 2010.

Happy New Year

Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace. -- Frederick Buechner, from Now and Then (Oh how I love Frederick Buechner!)

Happy New Year. The photos are from a trip to the farm just before Christmas. I love them. It is still very cold here, and the remnants of this storm still cover our lawn. The wind is bitter. But the expanses of white feel very apt for the fresh start that is the new year. Clean and uncluttered. Ready for more moments of fathomless mystery.

Happy H-owl-oween!

Our little family had a pretty low-key and very nice Halloween. H happily went as an owl in the felt costume I constructed with this Martha Stewart "tutorial" as a guide. I use the term tutorial very lightly as there was much filling-in of the blanks. It was a good costume for a wee one, however, because all of the annoying pieces were easily removed and nothing about the costume hindered crawling.

On Halloween day, lucky Henry got to see both sets of his grandparents and his great-grandparents. We ate North Carolina barbecue on a Virginia back porch and went to a baby party to see our buddies, baby Raggedy Ann and the Cowardly lion. There were many trick-or-treaters to greet at the door, and the weather held out long enough for baby H to visit all of the important neighbors. I think having a baby really enhances my experience of the changing seasons and the holidays. Something about the wonder in his eyes prompts me to experience everything anew.

Preserving

Inspired by Jennifer's great new site Putting By and by Liz's amazing pantry photos, I've been trying to can more of summer's bounty this year. My mom and I made bread and butter pickles last month and planned to do more, but life has gotten in the way. We use a mandoline to cut the cukes as thin as possible, as my mom's Mimi did. Mom winged the recipe from memory (and of course taste and smell) and they turned out just great. We've already eaten through the refrigerator jar. (The last jar filled, not quite full, which isn't processed and is instead eaten as close to immediately as possible-- the next day if you can wait that long for the flavors to meld. Does everyone do a refrigerator jar?) It was great fun to can with my mom.My Granna makes damson preserves each year that she can get good damsons. This year my grandfather picked up a couple of quarts for me, and Granna told me her recipe. I only tinkered with the ingredients a little (reduced the sugar), and followed her procedure (which involves standing over the pot and fishing all of the pits out one by one) exactly. These preserves are great, too. I love the way the skins taste. I also loved getting a word-of-mouth recipe from my grandmother.

The last thing I made for the larder is those little jars of pizza sauce you see in the middle. We've recently started a Friday night homemade pizza tradition, so those should come in handy. I got the recipe for this sauce from the Ball book.

The stash is building and I love seeing those bright clean jars stack up. I'm itching to pressure can some Brunswick Stew next, but we'll see if I get any time over the next couple of weeks. I think some multi-colored quart jars would look just dandy next to my current jar soldiers, protecting my family from winter hunger. I'd be interested to hear what other folks have canned or preserved recently.

Out of season

Today the weather really feels like Autumn, and all of a sudden I noticed the slanting light on the dining room table as I fed the boy his peas and carrots around five this evening. My grandmother called this afternoon to tell me that the damson plums are in at the farm stand, and the foxhunting season (cubbing) starts this week.

Suddenly, the signs are all around us that summer is over. I'll sleep with the windows open tonight, and breathe deeply.

(These are some unrelated crafts that have been completed lately. Top: The Baby Sophisticate sweater done up in Dream in Color Classy held double. I made the six to twelve months size and it's already kind of snug around the middle. Oh well, still cute. Bottom: A wee wonderfuls kitty made for Cousin Hannah's third birthday.)

Peonies

They have to be my very favorite flowers. My mother cut these for me from her garden yesterday, in the rain. They smell heavenly.

Shady days

Just what we all needed yesterday. An afternoon on the front lawn with a bowl of cherries (for me) and a big white sunhat (for him). Ahh. I love the shady, breezy spring.

Bald eagle day

I was going to call this post "Bluebird Day", but I think it's early yet for those brilliant little ones. Birds we did see yesterday at the farm:

• A juvenile bald eagle on the "eagle tree" in the hill field
• Full-grown bald eagle on the same tree earlier in the morning
• A pair of loons. The male stood on the dock with his wings held up as if to give his mate some privacy while she took her morning dip in the pond
• Many many jenny wrens with their cheerful upward tails (many many jennies!)
  
• The ubiquitous Canada geese
• A hawk (probably a broad-winged hawk?) carrying bits of lunch
• A skittish robin
  
• A pair of rock pigeons nesting in the machine shed

Unfortunately, I didn't get photos of any of the birds, but it was a storybook day with a wide blue sky and green green fields of pretty babies washed clean by yesterday's rain bath. Cattle are much easier to photograph than birds.
And although no photograph can capture the all 'round huge spinning beauty of the great wide open on such a beautiful spring day, the photo above does a poor job of trying. My baby was awake and alert for our entire walk yesterday, his eyes wide and searching from his stroller. I think maybe he'll be a country mouse like his mama. I hope so.

The winding road

Seems I like to post photos of this peaceful road on this day each year. A sun-dappled space for a deep breath. When I took this picture this morning around 10 am, it was so cool and fresh in this leafy corridor. I wonder what's around the bend.

The summer between eighth grade and the beginning of high school (how old were we then, 13?), my friend Addie came to the farm with me to visit my grandparents, and we took this road to riding camp each morning. One morning she sighed and said, "Oh, this road is so romantic!" She always did remind me of Anne Shirley, red hair and all (although hers would probably be called a distinguished auburn).

I think the romance is part of what is so calming about this place. It is quiet, but so full of possibility. It always reminds me of that Celtic blessing that begins, "May the road rise to meet you." This road always reminds me to breathe.

PS: Corny today? Yes. But if not today, then which day?

Hazy lazy days

So summer's almost over, and I can tell partly because the pastures have been burned to a crisp by the August sun. We did get some rain this week, the remnants of a tropical storm, so hopefully everything will green up again for a bit.

Also signalling the end of summer: A couple of months ago all the weed-flowers in the fields were yellow and white and then last month, some were orange. Now almost all of them are blue and purple. Fall is coming. Hopefully I'll have some more crafty content soon, when I'm spending more time indoors. Happy Labor Day!

Up in the tree

Friday the thirteenth is probably not the best day to be climbing a ladder, but it's time to pick the sour cherries so up the ladder I went. The cherries are another beautiful thing about summer on the farm. The sour cherry tree seems tiny when you look at it from the ground, and indeed much of it was cut away last fall because it was rotting. But once you climb up between the limbs, there are cherries upon cherries. Too many to pick, and most of the reddest and juiciest ones too high for anyone but the birds to reach.

In fact, the birds squawked and fought while I picked, eager for me to go inside to the pitting machine so they could continue their feast. This pitcher represents about 25 minutes of picking, enough for two sour cherry pies. My grandmother thinks that this might be one of the last years for this tree, as cherry trees only live so long before they give out. I told her she'd better plant another tree right quick! The pies she makes from these cherries have been a part of my summer equation for almost as long as I can remember. Her recipe is simple (and probably originally came from the back of some long-ago box of tapioca), but oh-so-delicious with fruit you've picked yourself.

Granna's Sour Cherry Pie

• 4 cups sour cherries
• 2 2/3 Tablespoons quick-cooking tapioca
• 1 1/3 cups sugar
• 2 Tablespoons kirsch
• Double pie crust
• 1 egg white, beaten
• 1 - 2 Tablespoons cold butter

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

• Mix cherries, tapioca, sugar and kirsch together in a large bowl. Let stand 15 minutes.
• Pierce bottom pie crust and brush with beaten egg white. Bake for five minutes to set.
• Pour cherry mixture into pie crust and dot with butter.
• Affix top crust; vent.

Bake 10 minutes at 450 degrees and then turn heat back to 350; bake 40 minutes more. This is a very juicy pie. It bakes best on a jelly roll pan covered in foil. For best results, let stand until almost room temperature before serving with vanilla ice cream. Yum!

What do May showers bring?

This was the scene at the farm yesterday, all bluster and wet.
Down by the water, all of the docks were submerged, along with these plants that are usually at least four feet up the bank. Of course the dog went swimming anyway.
The bottomland behind the house flooded, too. The cows moved upland. And finally, some Mother's Day pillowcases that I sent to my mom via my dad, who was up visiting for the weekend. There's lots of time to sew with so much rain outside. These are made from the softest off-white cotton with tiny red randomly-scattered dots. I got the fabric from superbuzzy sometime late last year. The edging was machine-executed but hand-guided (ie: my machine doesn't do scallops so there was a lot of needle-down fabric turning).

We're spending today drying out and warming up. It'll be 70 degrees here this afternoon. That feels more like May!

Build me up, Buttercup

It's buttercup season! I love this part of the spring, generally between the first and second mowings (or the second and third), when the buttercups spring up everywhere. They grow much taller in the country than they do in the city, and there are thousands and thousands in each field.

In the fields where the cows overwintered but where there isn't any livestock now, there are also hundreds of small clumps of darker green grass in amongst the regular field grass. These clumps are taller and lusher than the rest of the grass, and tend to occur in spots where cows left their piles of "fertilizer" during the winter. Joshua the horse doesn't like to step on these clumps of grass. When he was a younger horse, I could get him to jump them as sure as if they were little mini jumps left there in the field. Now that he's an old man, he usually just sidesteps them at the last moment, making for a very bumpy and exciting ride through fields in the spring.

Beautiful day today, and a beautiful ride through the field on the left at the end of the driveway. The one with the huge rock that serves as quite a nice mounting block should you fall off galloping around the turn.