winter theme

If I ever look back on this Winter,

I think I will remember a season of apples and soup.

 I've gotten fairly good at making soup this winter.
There's never a plan; it's just whatever comes to hand.
It's like Stone Soup, without the villagers.

Organic broth. Lots of vegetables; fresh and from the freezer.

Organic chicken, while my frozen stash lasted.
Perhaps cheese. A splash of cream if I have it.
New this week: organic kamut or farro.

Soup.

And...apples.

The 2016 drought meant a tough year for apples in my neck of the woods. I wasn't sure the local orchard owner was going to part with any of her Rhode Island Greenings - apparently she and I have similar taste in apples.
I felt lucky to buy a half-peck.

  They were a bit smaller than usual, again due to the drought.
They reminded me of wild fruit. Precious wild fruit.

Della is not a big cat. This is not a big apple.

The apples were stored in the coolest spot on the porch, and I kept my fingers crossed they would "keep" well there. But in November I discovered that the skin on some of the remaining apples was just beginning to get that leathery-loose feeling that says,

"I'm fine, but use me NOW."

I had been enjoying the apples sparingly,
but as soon as there was a risk of wasting even one apple...
the brakes were off.

Plush porcupine eying the state of the apple skin.

There was to be no apple mosaic cake, since the hens weren't laying.
Just apple crisp, which is about the easiest thing in the world.

The first apple crisp was delicious.
The second, ditto.

Until, one day...

there was One Apple Left.

First, I admired it.

Then I painted it's portrait.

Then I went to the grocery store and bought a few organic Granny Smiths to add to the last Rhode Island Greening for a final apple crisp.

It was...okay.
So that was it. "Farewell to apples!" for a while.

But.

It turns out that making an apple crisp every week for a month
is an excellent way to build an addiction.

A week later, I returned to the grocery store for more apples.

Granny Smith.
Not Rhode Island Greening.

And the week after that.

And, well, yes.

Clearly, I need to put some thought into proper storage for apples before next Autumn. Not too cold, not too warm. Safe from varmints. Accessible even in deep snow.
It's tricky, of course.
If it was easy, I'd already be doing it.

But darn it, I'll have to figure something out.

The goal: to have Rhode Island Greenings right into Spring.

And with that in mind, I'll keep filling the soup kettle.
Maybe it will help me think.

~~~~~

lemony

Yesterday, a friend asked, "What are you doing with all those lemons?"

My happy reply:

"Everything!"

Zesting, juicing, freezing, preserving.

Ingesting. Inhaling.

I also shared a dozen with a friend who loves to cook.

She immediately said "chicken piccata!" which sounded like a fine idea.

But the next day, before using even one,

she emailed a photograph of the lemons!

These lemons are irresistibly photogenic.

Have to say: as DeepWinter mood-lifters go,

this experiment has been a total success.

May even tide me over til the annual therapeutic trip

to the local florist for a pot of hyacinths!

Wishing you all a lemony day.

~~~~~

taking care

As winter creeps along,

and everyone I know is struggling,

it seems more and more obvious that many things are

Including myself.

I've been making an effort to eat well this winter.

Homemade soup. Fresh greens. Very little sugar.

A few days ago I ordered something special.

My lovely postal carrier brought it yesterday.

You may know that surprise packages are one of my favorite things,

but even when it's not a surprise, opening a package is fun.

(I live a very quiet life these days.)

The moment I cut through the tape,

all my senses perked right up.

Because this:

 Organic Meyer lemons

from Lemon Ladies Orchard in California.

With a nice bonus treat: fresh bay leaves.

I've never met Karen Morss, the Orchardess, but I bet I'd like her.

In about an hour I'll be back outside, wrestling a bale of hay onto a sled

and pushing it foot by foot through the heavy wet snow to the barns.

And wobbling to and fro with jugs of water for the big de-icer bucket.

And fighting to get gates open,

then fighting to get them closed again.

And again, and again.

But right now, I'm enjoying the juxtaposition

of sunshine, snow, and fresh lemonade.

Cheers, dear readers.

~~~~~

a february night

Every time I woke last night, it was still snowing.

Once, I got up and gave Piper and Moxie and Della a snack.

Once, I opened the sliding glass door, leaned out with a broom, and knocked the new snowcap off the sagging birdfeeder.

And once I just stayed in bed and took these pictures.

~~~~~

a note from saturday morning

Yesterday was refreshingly sunny.

Bright blue skies!

Fluffy wisps of clouds sailing by!

They were sailing, of course, because it was windy. It was also very cold.

Piper insisted on coming out for the first session of morning chores, but expressed a wish (immediately granted) to return to her cozy bed long before those chores were finished.

 "Okay, I see you have an adequate handle on the chores.

You can take it from here. I'll be in my office."

Meanwhile, at the sliding glass door on the porch, Moxie and Della have front-row seats for Squirrel Theatre. Performances scheduled daily, under the birdfeeders.

Della: "Athletic but incoherent performance."

Moxie: "I liked him much better as Hamlet."

More snow is predicted this weekend. And Monday.

Also: Wednesday and Thursday.

This morning, the sky is dense and grey again.

So...

let's have another look at yesterday's sky, shall we?

Red oak, white pine, American beech.

Quercus rubra, Pinus strobus, Fagus grandifolia.

A dear and familiar skyscape.

Sugar maple and white birch.

Acer saccharum and Betula papyrifera.

When I want a lesson in survival,

I look to trees.

I hope your Saturday is beautiful.

~~~~~