The roads are always worst 10 miles from home

We had our second major snowstorm of the winter on Wednesday.  To celebrate, we went skiing up at Schweitzer Mountain.   It was a rather long drive getting to Sandpoint.  Plows were out in full force, but the wind across the Palouse caused drifts across the road in places.  It was worth the drive, however, as over a foot of new powder awaited us and we had an epic day on the mountain, despite having to deal with holiday crowds.

Frozen trees

Early morning sun on a cold mountain.

Backside of Schweitzer

Catching some freshies in the trees

The sun is coming out (slowly).

The skies cleared, and the temperatures steadily dropped overnight--to below zero.  With the temperature still in the single digits this morning and the wind chill making it feel even colder, we decided not to ski and spent some time in Sandpoint and driving around Lake Pend Orielle. Dawn comes late in midwinter  at 48 degrees north latitude.

Sunrise over Lake Pend Orielle

Frozen City Beach.

I guess the polar bear plunge is out!

In some areas, the lake was "steaming" because the water temperature was warmer than the air temperature, making for some eerie early morning sights.

 

Lake Pend Orielle

We drove home later that afternoon, and were treated to some beautiful views in the early evening light.

HW 95 in Benewah County

Winter is about the only time I can catch sunrise and sunset in the same day!

Confessions of a wannabe suburban homesteader

I am not a legitimate suburban homesteader.  Legitimate suburban homesteaders would taunt me over the fence line with shouts of "your mother smelled of elderberries!"  I have a good reason for not being a better homesteader, namely that I have a family and a day job.  There are other reasons as well.  For instance, our entire menagerie consists of one lazy, loud cat that refuses to step outdoors.  My husband will not stand for chickens and we live on a small lot, precluding most other animals.  So I buy eggs from the happy chickens owned by a colleague at work and get our milk from Spokane Family Farm. 

Despite my failings, I do have some pretty specific goals for 2011 for our tiny pseudo-suburban homestead.  These goals are:

1.  To improve my compost bin.  I have way too many kitchen scraps in the mix and not enough "browns" (leaves and grass clippings).  I need to crank up the heat in that sucker and crank out the dirt.

2.  To have early season greens--spinach or lettuce.  To achieve this goal, I need to plant early--in February--if there are some snow free days.  As a bonus, I'd like to be able to put in a second, summer crop, when the greens are done.

3.  I want my one bed to go entirely to strawberries but give two of my rhubarb plants to a good home to create additional space for veggies.

4.  I want to replace the front perennial bed with a native plants to create a low-maintenance, xeriscape garden.  (My husband is a BIG proponent of this goal).

5.  My friend in New York State created a root cellar in her basement and I have root cellar-envy.  I need some way to store carrots and potatoes long term, but unlike my friend, I don't have a full, below-ground basement.  I saw this product advertised at Gardener's Supply Company,  and while it appears to be no longer available, I am sure I could make something similar.  Because my garage doesn't typically freeze, I should be able to store veggies for a least a couple months post harvest. 

6. As with last year, I really want to increase the proportion of locally produced food.  I did pretty well on dairy last year, this year I will try for grains.

Fortunately or unfortunately, it is still the dead of winter and so I can't get started on these goals (except maybe the last one) right away.  So I will just enjoy another aspect of suburban homesteading--a nice wood stove fire courtesy of my husband.  He buys permits from the U.S. Forest Service to collect dead or fallen trees from Federal land.  It keeps us nice and toasty in the winter, and I am always thankful that I don't have to be the one splitting wood on a cold winter's day!

The unsplit wood in our woodshed; my husband's (important) contribution to urban homesteading!

 

If I Only Had Some Henchmen...

I am a closet Martha Stewart fan.  I admit it.  In fact, I even like her better after the whole prison thing.  I think that experience mellowed her out a bit.  Which she needed.  

Earlier this month, I had the unfortunate luck of being in an airport.  Flying in December is less fun than flying any other time of the year, which is saying quite a lot.  In means making decisions such as whether to take your heavy coat even though you know you won't need it at your destination but you could possibly freeze your butt off standing on the tarmac waiting for your gate checked bag while en route.  It also means flying with people who almost never fly, or in fact, even get out in public very often.  Needless to say, flying in December is to be avoided at all cost.  

So buying a Martha Stewart magazine tends to be my guilty airport pleasure.  I bought the December magazine, which turned out to be mostly a tribute album to the 20 previous years of Martha.  But Martha did succeed in taking my thoughts away from crazy airport passengers.  She did this first on page 6, where she presents her December calendar.  Of course I was duly impressed that she had all her packages mailed in time (Dec 10), doesn't forget buy fresh Mistletoe (Dec 22), or make pate a choux puffs (Dec 24).  However, I did have to laugh when I saw her workout schedule:  Dec 2, 4, 8,9,16,18,23, and 30.  Apparently Martha has as much trouble setting up a regular workout schedule as the rest of us mortals.  But I digress.  

As I posted previously, I have given up looking for cookie recipes.  But that did not stop me from falling in love with her barks and brittles.  I decided to make them for my neighbors for Christmas gifts.  The recipe (one version found here) is very easy, although I should have looked it up online first because the magazine version does not tell you to make the bark thin.  Mine ended up a little on the thick side, which probably won't bother any chocolate lovers.  I made bark with peppermint, crushed cashews, sliced almonds, and peanut butter. 

Cashew bark (left), and peppermint bark.

Peanut butter-milk chocolate almond bark

The problem with M.S. recipes is that there is always one step that is a bit tricky.  You know, the step that would be easier if you lived in Manhattan and could shop at international grocery stores, or if you had a personal assistant named Victor, or if you had, as Martha does, a legion of henchmen to actually do the hard work for you.   That step in this recipe is the wrapping.  Not having the fancy boxes Martha used, I tried wrapping the barks in parchment paper.  Note to self:  tape does not stick to parchment paper.  I instead used plain white paper to wrap around the parchment paper and seal the barks.  Of course, touching the bark melted the chocolate just a tiny bit, which got onto my fingers, and then onto the paper.  I do not know how the henchmen handled this issue; I just washed and dried my hands a lot.


In the end, I think they turned out OK.  But I won't know for sure until I see the reactions of the neighbors.  If the new neighbors stop waving to us, I'll know...

Merry Christmas everyone!

Wrapped barks.

Cookie Geneology

Every year about this time, I pour over magazines looking for good cookie recipes.  And then I always make the same one:  my great grandmother's sugar cookie.  There is something about the time honored cookie, passed down from the homesteader's kitchen.  The uncooked dough is especially tasty, even though it has an egg in it, which means it technically should not be consumed--but aren't forbidden things always more appealing??

I am now passing this recipe on to the next generation, and I think I will pass it along here as well.  From the plains of central Kansas:

Great Grandma's* Sugar Cookie Recipe:

3 cups flour
1 cup softened butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla
3 tbsp heavy cream


Sift dry ingredients together.  Add soft butter, then egg, cream, and vanilla.  Blend well.  Chill 2 hours.  Roll out and cut into desired shapes.  Bake at 400 degree oven for 5-8 minutes.  Cool before decorating.

Frosting: (From my mother)


1/2 cup vegetable shortening
1/2 cup butter
1 tsp vanilla
4 cups sifted baking sugar
2 tbsp milk


Cream the shortening and butter together.  Add vanilla.  Slowly add sugar and then milk.  Can be kept up to two weeks in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

* Also known as "Mother's Cookie Recipe" and "Grandma's Cookie Recipe"

Sleepy Gardens

One of the selling points of the house (for me) was the 20x40 foot vegetable garden on the south side of the house.  Before we bought the house, I had rented garden space in the local community garden.  The largest plot I ever had was 10x10 foot, and that one I shared with someone else.  Even that had a perpetual weed patch, the last little bit that we could never seem to bring under control.  In my exuberance, I assumed that if I actually had a garden at my home (instead of having to drive) I would be able to take on a much larger plot.  

It didn't happen.  Instead, I faced a hostile takeover by bindweed.  After reading an article in Organic Gardening magazine about bindweed (take home message:  barring a catastrophic event that blocks out the sun for three years or taking some ground out of production by covering it with plastic for the same amount of time, you're SOL), I conceded the plot was too large to manage.

So, this spring, in a deal with my husband, I dramatically shrunk the size of my garden plot.  But as a trade-off, we agreed to have raised beds built.  Happy day!  Just looking out my window makes me smile.  Raised beds are not only easier to manage, they look neat and tidy, even when managed by a frantic gardener!  Plus, it took a lot of my frustration out of gardening.  Now I could actually plant things, instead of engage in a full-on assault of the weeds.  I could enjoy myself.

The gardens are sleeping now under snow.  Hopefully, when they wake up in the spring I will have some garlic and some winter spinach.  If not, I will be able to plant early spring lettuce and other cold season crops.  And I won't have to hope for a volcano to do my weeding for me.

New raised beds in spring

Strawberries during the summer

Sleepy gardens!

 

Tele morning

I began Sunday morning on the top of a mountain.  This is generally a good thing, especially when said mountain is nearly deserted and you are afforded spectacular views.  We were up at Schweitzer, near Sandpoint, ID, skiing this weekend.  While a ski area does not allow the muted quiet of a backcountry peak, early Sunday morning--before the dudes awake from their slumber--is a great time to be alone with your thoughts if you must be at a ski area.  

It was a rare bluebird day on Schweitzer, clear and cold.  No freezing fog or flat light.  I had beautiful views of Lake Pend d'Oreille as well as the Selkirk and Cabinet Mountains.  Lake Pend d'Oreille is probably my favorite lake in Idaho.  Over 1,100 feet deep in places--so deep the Navy uses it to test submarine prototypes--it is fed by the Clark Fork River coming out of Montana and was the starting point of the great floods of Glacial Lake Missoula during the last Ice Age.  

I was on telemark gear, so I could go slowly and enjoy myself.  I find that is one of the virtues of tele-skiing--you don't have to go fast.  It's analogous to fly fishing and yoga.  If you go too fast, you are missing the point.  

It was a rare morning.  Early on a Sunday, it was practically a religious (or at least a spiritual) experience, especially if you counted the burning in my quads from the turns as a kind of stoic discipline. Conditions were typical early season with some thin patches and the occasional shrub or rock getting in the way.  On the south facing slopes, the sun softened up the snow nicely and, while not powder, made the turns fun.
The only problem with tele-skiing is that you can't watch yourself make turns.  But then a religious experience isn't supposed to be about you anyway.

 

Lake Pend d'Oreille in the summer as seen from the top of Schweitzer. Photo courtesy of WL.

Driving home on Highway 95.

The Joy of Roasting

We received a roasting pan for a wedding gift and I thought, "I am never going to use this."  How wrong I was!  My husband started using the pan a few years ago when he began preparing holiday roasts (on Thanksgiving and Christmas).  He has been perfecting his recipe for several years now.  When he adds his green chili gravy...wonderful.  Unfortunately, I can't share his recipe since he doesn't write it down.  However, this past summer I discovered the joy of roasting chicken and therefore finally got to make use of the pan.  This year, I decided to make a concerted effort to eat more locally produced foods.  As part of this objective, I ordered five chickens (spaced out over several months) from the Zakarison Partnership, a nearby farm.  The Zakarisons are third generation wheat farmers but have recently begun diversifying their farm and now have a certified organic section of their farm, as well as ethically and sustainably raised sheep and pastured poultry.  After my somewhat spontaneous order of chickens, I realized I had to learn to roast them.  Despite the stress and the fevered consulting of my Julia Child cookbook, it's actually so easy I feel guilty when it's my turn to cook.  I simply baste the chicken in olive oil and herbs, place it breast-side down in the roasting pan, add potatoes and carrots to the pan, cover the pan, and put it in the oven at 375 degrees for 1.5-2 hours.  The bird is done when the temperature of the meat in the thickest portion is 180 degrees and the juice runs clear.  Instead of cooking over a hot stove, I just have about 10 minutes of prep and then can relax before dinner (as my husband says, roasting pans are the original crock pot).   Of course you can also make stock from the leftover chicken bits--but that is a post for another day!

Small Business Saturday

Apparently there is a lesser known shopping holiday following Thanksgiving.  While Black Friday is still known for crazy stampedes searching for the latest gadget, Small Business Saturday is a more leisurely day of exploring (and shopping at!) your community's locally owned businesses.  Buying local means that more of your money stays in your community, supporting payrolls and benefits, as well as local tax revenues.  One study  found that three times as many dollars continue to circulate within a community when spent at locally-owned business when compared to corporate retailers.  Personally, I feel that it's much more rewarding to shop at local businesses.  First of all, if they don't have something, they will often order it for you--which certain corporate retailers not-be-named will NOT do--they will just refer you to their website where YOU pay the shipping!  Secondly, the staff at locally owned businesses tend to be more knowledgeable about their products.  I have also found that the owners, especially, have minds like squirrels--they always remember who bought their nuts and can remind you which wine you liked or what part will work with your bike.  Finally, shopping locally is a social activity, where you bump into friends or can stop to have coffee or a scone on your way around town.  So go support your local businesses!

 

First snow

The first snow of the year always makes me philosophical.  There's something about sitting by a warm fire in the half-light of northern winter afternoon that triggers day dreaming and deep sighs.  I especially love it when the snow occurs over a holiday, allowing me to fully indulge in getting lost in my thoughts. I hope that this winter is full of such days--especially ones with snow.  We barely had winter last year (although all my East Coast friends had tons!) and summer was short and cool.  When I think about it, it's kind of been a year of nothing but spring and fall, which here means mud, unpredictable weather, and general frustration because I can't ski and I can't grow tomatoes.  So here's a toast to a hoped-for winter filled with clear, cold mornings and sun glinting on snow, with a little nod to the garlic and spinach growing in the earth under the snow in my garden!