Christmas Tree Outing

The day after Thanksgiving is the day we start decorating for Christmas. This year I put my planning skills to work to obtain a Christmas tree cutting permit for this much sought after day. (Check out the U.S. Forest Service website for information on tree cutting in your local area. Information for the Colorado Front Range is usually available in October each year.) It takes about an hour and a half to get to the cutting area from our house. Then we get to take a nature hike. We look at rocks and of course trees. This year we were blessed with a beautiful day and mild temperatures. It was a great day for a walk in the woods.

Wild trees within the parameters we can cut are not as full as farm trees that have been topped and shaped, but our tradition allows us to get out of the house for some exercise and to help the forest service cull trees. Salt is particular about finding trees in overcrowded spots, even though this makes it difficult to find one that is symetrical. One just has to adjust one's expectations about the density of the branches and look hard for one that is reasonably even. 

Saratoga

Thanksgiving Day was passed on the mini-farm with family and friends. The neighbors stopped in for a break from their own dinner preparations. We served traditional fare from a buffet on the counter and ate around the coffee table, mainly because I relegated the dining room table to use as a plant stand last month. Nonetheless, it was nice to keep it casual and not interupt the conversation with formal dinner ceremonies. It was also much easier to entertain and cook at the same time in this way. I was able to wash dishes and talk and give tours of the updates on the house and mash the potatoes as time permitted. 

Everyone asks so here is the menu: 

• Turkey (cooked on the grill with mesquite) 
• Corn Bread and Chorizzo Dressing 
• Grilled Vegetables: Sweet Potatoes, Parsnips, Celery, Carrots and Onions 
• Mashed Potatoes with Blue Cheese and Chives 
• Sauteed Zucchini and Carrots 
• Roasted Brussel Sprouts with Pecans 
• Pumpkin and Pecan Pies 

I was sorry to be so far from my brothers and sisters, but consider myself blessed to be able to spend the day with my Mom and Pop. Salt's parents are gone too early and all of our grandparents have passed away. Since we've moved to the mini-farm, an hour from my parents, I'm afraid that I don't spend as much time with them -- or my siblings for that matter -- as I would like. We're all so busy with real responsibilities in our lives, but time passes too quickly. I don't think I'm very old, but already I've lost many important people in my life and I still wish I had more time with them. 

One of those people who has been on my mind lately is my grandfather, who was a school teacher, a farmer, and a hunter. 

I'd like to tell you a bit about him, if you don't mind. 

 

Artisan Me

You may recall my description of how I go about planning construction-type projects over many months combining research with multiple sketches, measurements, and calculations. One of these detailed plans has finally come to fruition in the form of a large, moveable coffee table.

It all started when we moved, and I discovered that a large cabinet for architectural plans Salt had stuck in the basement next to his overflow office contained artwork. Some of the artwork is his, some was done by his mother, and some of it was done by his sons as they were growing up.

Technical drawings.

I am an advocate of framing and displaying personal art and can’t stand to see it stored where it can not be enjoyed.  Unfortunately, in a family of artists there is much more art than there is space on the walls, so I had the idea of redeeming the cabinet from the basement to use as a coffee table. By placing it in the center of the living room, it is possible to show people the artwork we are storing. This is much better than leaving it to the mice. Unfortunately the cabinet weighs over 100 pounds. Wherever it sits, it is going to be right there forever. . . unless we could attach wheels. Hmmm. . .

The Dragon in the Bathroom

After an unusually mild autumn, we have been suddenly plunged into the deepest winter along with so many other people in the country.  A few days ago we were working in the yard with the temperature in the high 60s (the high teens for those of you who use the celsius scale), and last night we hit a low of 7 degrees fahrenheit (-13.9C). This is not the lowest temperature we will record this week.

Naturally, I awoke in the middle of the night worried about the chickens.  It was 19F (-7C) in the chicken coop. They were probably still where I had last seen them, sitting on their perches with their feathers fluffed up for insulation from the cold as the little oil filled heater made a valiant effort that was proving too feeble to be much help. I tossed and turned thinking of strategies to further insulate their perches, which was ridiculous since there was nothing to be done about it at two o'clock in the morning.  

Then I heard it...

Chicken Hubris

Every day for weeks it seems I have been checking in on the chickens, looking around to see if anyone had laid an egg in some stray spot. As the weather grew colder my hopes grew dimmer. Perhaps they would skip the winter altogether, and not lay any eggs until spring. I've heard of it happening. The waiting and wondering has been a bit demoralizing.


On Halloween, I was rushing to feed the chickens and put them to bed so I could start cooking for our dinner guests. It was growing dark and cold, so I didn't even check the boxes. I just scooped out some food from the bin and tossed it into the feeder. When I was returning the scoop, I saw them. There in the straw next to the feeder was a tidy, round basin scratched into the bale. In the center of the divot was two eggs. I was elated. I gasped. I jumped up and down. I giddily ran to the house with my prizes in hand. My girls are women now!

A couple of days later, I had a small twinge of guilt as I cooked their hard work and hopes for breakfast.