Success

Though I don’t generally share food after it has been prepared, you often see the results of the garden harvest and canned for storage produce. The success with the three sisters’ garden this year was poor, better than last year, but definitely not successful. The corn part of the long bed was initially planted with Bloody Butcher dent corn on one end, a short season sweet corn on the other end, covered with a long run of welded wire fence several inches above the soil surface to keep the crows from eating more than their share. Since a dent corn field is planted to the east of us, I had hoped they would go for the easy meal. Very little of the corn germinated, so it was replanted and a third white dent corn added, and again, poor germination and the pumpkins never did come up until so late in the season that they had no chance to produce. We got a few, very few ears of sweet corn that was not very full and mature, and this is all of the dent corn that the patch produced.

Once dried on the stalk, shucked and placed in this window sill in the utility room to further dry, last night it was slated to be ground. Years ago, hubby gave me this grinder for a gift at my request.

Until last night, it has only been used to coarsely grind whole corn for chicken scratch and it gives the right arm quite a workout. I thought about taking my few ears of dent corn to the museum with me tomorrow and using the corn sheller, but instead stood over the hopper and hand shelled all but one ear of the corn I grew. Played with the grinder settings and got the grind finer, but not commercial meal fine.

And I cranked, took a break, did other chores, returned and cranked some more until all of the corn had been ground. To my amazement, it ended up being enough to fill two quart jars with a cup left to cook this morning.

Last night, that cup of hand ground corn was set to soak in water in the Instant Pot in preparations to cook it as grits this morning for Son 1’s and my breakfast. Knowing that it would take at least 90 minutes on the stove top, the presoaking and Instant Pot meant it would be ready in about 35-40 minutes instead, including the pressurizing, cooking, and depressurizing. Much to our delight, it made a very good addition to a couple of scrambled eggs from my hens.

We each had a bowlful of homegrown, hand ground, fresh grits with a sprinkle of cheddar cheese and a good dollop of butter. Son 1 ate a second bowlful. The remaining two quarts of meal were put in the freezer to prevent them from turning rancid and more winter breakfasts of grits, and a few pans of cornbread will be enjoyed. So though I rarely show a finished meal, this one was homegrown (and enjoyed with a couple of slices of tomato purchased at the Farmer’s Market yesterday.)

Next year, more dent corn will be planted and hopefully produce more to grind. It is delicious.

The Ugly Pink Coat

Many years ago when I decided that there were to be chickens here, my wardrobe still reflected my prior life, living in a city and working in education. Yes, there were a couple pair of denim jeans, but outdoor wear was too nice to work in a dirty environment. Of course, retirement on a farm and not having to dress for a job every day changed some of that and pants became more functional than dress slacks, shirts of a fabric and style that were conducive to working in the garden and mucking out a coop, but outerwear did not really change, until the first winter that there were outdoor animals that needed care regardless of whether it was 2o degrees f or 90 degrees f.

As I was purchasing feed and bedding in Tractor Supply and the weather was beginning to take a turn for the cold, the huge center rack of the store was loaded with winter gear. For the most part, the clothing was camo. I don’t hunt, don’t want to be mistaken in the woods for a tree or a deer, so camo wouldn’t work for me. Almost year round, when I go out into the woods or walk the rural unpaved road, a blaze orange vest is part of my wardrobe. The non camo women’s options were very limited, the teal that I wanted was not available in my size, I didn’t want the Carhartt jumpsuit, so it ended up being the Ugly Pink Jacket. Now you need to understand, I don’t like pink, don’t wear pink, didn’t dress my daughter in pink, so for me to come home with a pink barn coat was a stretch, but it was cheaper than Carhartt, not camo, not a jump suit, but it was hooded and warm with lots of pockets for necessary tools (or to bring in freezing eggs).

The Ugly Pink Coat hangs on a hook in the utility room, right where it needs to be to go out to put on boots, gather feed, and deal with the feathered flock or do other chores that continue to be necessary year round. Most of the year, it just hangs there, but when it is needed, it is dragged out, zipped up, and keeps me warm. Last night, it got cold, today it stays cold, so for the first time this season, out came the Ugly Pink Coat. It looks like a few more days of use before it can be hung back on the hook for a while.

It is warm, it is faded, now at least a dozen years old, but though I am glad it is there, it is still UGLY!

Away

A much needed respite, but not far away. Grandson 1 suggested to his Dad, Son 1 that they go to bike the Virginia Creeper trail together and that perhaps hubby and I could join them. We had ridden it with one of his cousins and him in the summer of 2021. Between the scheduling and locating an Air B&B to accommodate the 4 of us, the medical nightmare occurred and we were unsure if we would be able to join them. By mid week, last week, we decided that it was doable, but hubby couldn’t ride, so I chose not to also, perhaps a good thing because only 1 bicycle was available when son called several outfitters. Since he was bringing some things to our house in route, he picked up his bike here and the outfitter took his to the top too on Saturday. As soon as they got back to the outfitter yesterday afternoon, they scheduling a second ride this morning. Son 1 decided to ride up the 17 miles, 1900 foot elevation rise this morning and meet his son who went up on the shuttle and they rode down together. We brought his bike that lives here back today. He has a nicer bike he uses to commute to work.

I walked some in Damascus, sat on the porch and spun, knit, and read. We explored some of the dining options in Damascus and last night in Abdingdon and arrived back home safely around an hour ago.

An abandoned house on a ride in the countryside.
The dam at an old mill, now hotel and restaurant.
Fall color and a spindle from the porch of the cottage.
My guys, this weekend, before we headed home.

The fall colors were perfect, the weather delightful ahead of a cold front coming in today with rain and colder temperatures. It did us good to get away from the house for a couple of nights, though it wore hubby out. It was great to see Son and grandson together for a weekend. Good memories.