August Garden - Dedicated to Chipmunks

Imagine you are a tiny animal . . .  in a Great Lakes summer. The path from your burrow is a wild colorful canopy of Nasturtium stems and aggressive Morning Glory vines. In this brilliant jungle the tantalizing fragrances of thyme and basil, rosemary and mint spin into morning mists filling your tiny but powerful lungs. Your home paradise is my herb garden.

Our other garden, is void of small mammals. Only we large hopeful humans come to observe and pamper and gather the fruits from struggling vegetable vines for our own sustenance.

These two gardens and frequent trips to the weekly farmer’s market have been the source of steady day by day preservation of food. We have stored in dozens of jars fruits from trees and bushes along Michigan’s third coast, amazing blueberries, peaches, apricots, combining strawberries and tangy rhubarb. Most have jelled, though the magic of heated fruit and sugar still eludes me and I am forced to label many of these special flavors as “sauce”.

Tomatoes, however . . . Ah tomatoes. We wait all summer for August when solid brilliant globes of red and gold fill baskets then jars of soups, juice, pasta sauce. With our trusty Victorio bound to the kitchen counter we team up to begin quartering, grinding, and filling a very large steel bowl with thick seedless tomato juice. Of course we cannot go through this process without our mouths watering and begging for juicy pieces that dribble down chins and arms. My mouth is watering now just telling you about this wonder of the earth.

Now go, make yourself a great tomato sandwich with all the supporting actors – mayonnaise, lettuce, cheese. Go and take in these pleasures of our world.

While you enjoy these gifts you may want to take a look at the ebook , A Homestead Decade -How Crunchy Granola Changed My Life, Amazon kindle books 2.99

Thanks for stopping by, and thank you for sharing this Crunchy Granola blog with friends.

love, Helene

It takes a Community . . . .

June 16 the
beans are up

            This year we are excited to cultivate not one but three small gardens, gardens that day by day manage to erase tensions with the beauty of natural designs. The rough neck garden between our back deck and the parking lot is designated as the Herb Garden.

            The other two plots are part of an unexpected Community Garden for the semi urban residents in our condos and apartments.  

            To get to our new garden spot we walk a half a mile past a small but bountiful wild field along the lake shore before spotting 18 boxed gardens now in full bloom. They are an inviting sight on an excellent piece of land between the apartment buildings and the community club house pool.

            This community garden is the flowering idea of local residents in the condos who sometime last fall began the inquiry with associations in the region. Working through hurdles of opinions and support the agreed section was plotted out in May.

July 7 lookin good

            Greg Waldie and Jerry Flores acquired the lumber and within a full day had prepared 18 4x8 raised garden boxes. A rich mix of soil was distributed in each plot.

First Harvest from the
Waldie garden!

            Greg arranged for watering through the adjacent club house outdoor hose, a unique gate at each end of the garden section allows gardeners to get in while discouraging other eager munchers. Various gardeners share watering cycle duty. Then the planting began. We are #8 and #2. All 18 are now in bloom as more folks saw the potential for joy watching their own garden in the foreground of a luscious lakeside sunset. Thanks to Greg and Jerry, Diane and others for this gift.

             

            Meanwhile back to the little herb garden. We struggle with the soil on this little plot that suffers from the draining mountain of winter snow and ice chemicals left from parking lot clearings. This year we focused on herbs and hardies – basil, parsley, thyme, and summer savory. We also discovered an edible flowering beauty – nasturtiums! (no, haven’t eaten one yet). The volunteers do their thing with a little guidance: mint MINT, dill, ivy and those bossy morning glories.

            And so the dance with soil and dreams continues in this lovely experience called gardening.

            This is our first experience gardening with other people. The plan here is simple, each person manages their own section, with cooperation on watering and using gates. The Crunchy Granola book describes a far different experience in our first year of gardening - starting with an unmanageable acre. We were such novices. I hope you may check out the e-book on Amazon A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy Granola Changed My Life.  2.99, Sample free. Enjoy past blogs below.

Thanks for stopping by. 

Affectionately, Helene

Comfort for the Bruised Soul

Garden dreaming....

Take a breath. Look about. It is only a little 4’x 8’ section of dirt framed by untreated 2 by10s. Just dirt, well, good dirt mixed with compost and commercial garden soil. It still seems daunting to begin again after a soul bruising winter. Take a breath. Here we go.

Three tomato plants, one red pepper plant, a hill of pickling cucumbers, two rows of 35 bean seeds, two dinosaur kale plants and one green/blue eggplant, (the blossoms of eggplant are so beautiful!)

   

There lies hope. Hope that the summer will fill the box with texture and color and smells and hidden secrets of blossoms to fruit. I stand for a moment, a little sad that the time to plant was so short. And so it begins again – The Garden.

This is the new garden, a place to dig.
A place to plant, a place to care.
I'll keep you posted on this project.

Thank you for visiting. It is good to be back. Please check A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy Granola Changed My Life  an Amazon Kindle e-book. Lots of fun to read. Cheap.

Enjoy summer, Helene

CUCURBITA THINKING

WHAT IS IT?

Try to figure this one out  before checking the end of the blog.

       As the curious garden of 2016 comes to an end, I find that the bounty of garden art is enthralling.

Take the cucumber for instance. While preparing small pickling cukes trimmed on the ends for a remaining few jars, I noticed the charming flowerlet design on the green tips. Who did that? And

why?

       Walking through the outdoor market in late summer is a delight of color and shapes, like the great variety of pumpkins at the Tomac Pumpkin Patch booth in the East Lansing, Michigan. That's Sarah waving over the menagerie of globes. The Tomac farm also has a festival October 15 called Pumpkin Chucking where the challenge has grown over the years with participants using great effort to chuck their pumpkin. Check their facebook for details.

       I learn a lot from these outdoor market excursions (what a great time to be alive). For instance cucumbers and pumpkin squashes are part of the same Cucurbita family (Cucurbita in Latin means gourd). My mind wants to throw out a stream of comments on family differences, but I'll let you do that. 

       The star form at the top of the blog is not a Cucurbita, but it does help one kind of cucurbita to become beautiful and delicious. It is a dill blossom!  Here's how it becomes an artsy object:

VOILA!

       Thank you for visiting today. If you are looking for an enjoyable read about gardens and animals and making brooms, check out our Amazon.com memoir:  A Homestead Decade, How CrunchyGranola Changed My Life  , Amazon e-book, cheap, $2.99.  Happy end of summer, Helene

Somethings Happening Here

       Major projects in our life are done and half the summer is gone, whew. I am happy to be back. One of the consequences of being diverted from home is how the garden has become. Though nothing like the old days of gardening for us, I cherish this little 3x5 plot.

       That being said, I am not the real gardener. The seeds and roots of former species dominate what is to happen here, especially when I have been unable to attend to it. The beautiful yucca have struggled with the road fill that we hesitantly call the soil. This year they flourished with bounties of the milk white blossoms glowing in the morning sun.

       The six tomato plants that I hopefully spaced among the rush of growth also struggle but are now producing sweet red globes with very tough skin. There are perennial flowers here too that I just can’t take out: golden lilies, Japanese Iris, purple bush spears, Russian heather. How dare I try to plant a vegetable among these. And there are herbs – oregano that always goes to flower, but is so beautiful in bloom, the many descendants of last year’s one volunteer dill plant, and challenged basil next to dominant mint. All of these huddle together as the magnificent assertive Morning Glories pop up all over the garden grabbing on to any stem, stick, or fence to secure it’s hold.

       This is not the garden I wanted, but I have to say that everyone out here elbowing its way to the sun, forcing every scrap of nutrient from damaged soil has certainly aroused great respect from me for the powerful drive to live.

       We have begun to frequent the outdoor markets for actual preservable produce. Fruits and vegetables parading through summer demanding action every two weeks (at their peak, they say) while the rush to gather jars and lids and freezer bags becomes a priority of our time. I love this stuff, really. And so do others that we meet at the market, like Marjorie, of Stone Cloud Gardens and the many products she prepares for us.

       Marjorie shared a concern we have that our grandchildren do not really know where or how our food becomes, that each kernel in an ear of sweet corn has the potential to grow into a plant that produces three or four more ears each. Now there’s an exponential math exercise. Go ahead count the kernels on your next sweet and buttery ear of corn. That number will be the number of potential plants if they were put in the ground and not in your mouth. And if you multiply that number by . . . well you get the idea. Someone is working hard on our behalf to enjoy these great wonders, some farmer, or some disciplined gardener refusing to wimp out to the domination of plants in an eclectic garden.

       Enjoy the wonders, my friends. And if you want to take on some fun reading this summer try my little memoir, A Homestead Decade, How CrunchyGranola Changed My Life   

Amazon e-book, cheap,$2,99.

Enjoy a Nature Adventure with A Child, You might Find A Snake

       We were exploring, the eight year old said. I did not have the best shoes for such an adventure. I tripped and grabbed at branches trying to follow him to the shore of a small pond.

       Even at eight, he showed care holding branches away from my face and pointing out long rooted vines.

       Suddenly, with a quick reach, he excitedly called snake!, as he grabbed a small string of an animal.

       The little strand of yellow and tan squirmed nervously to get out of the gentle  grip.

       The boy spoke lovingly to the snake, this boy of my life. Then face to face, snake and child, a thin red thread-like tongue sprung out of the snake's tiny mouth. The boy jumped back but retained his hold on the prize.

       I told him how good to be so kind to this little creature. He may be scared, I said, maybe we should let him go into the pond where he was headed. He agreed.

       A long look into small snake eyes, the boy spoke softly about going back. At the shore, just before release, he whispered good bye and, to my surprise, gave the snake a kiss.

Thanks for stopping by. I hope you get a chance to share glorious nature days with a child this Spring.        To all of you who have purchased an e-reader copy of A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy Granola Changed My Life from Amazon Kindle (cheap 2.99), a very special thank you!

affectionately, 
Helene

Homemade Tomato Soup with bread - Ah, Winter Lunch

Not our lunch today, but a memorable
one from Vezelay, France

It is blizzard-like outside. We have just tasted bliss in a winter lunch from our summer labors: sweet and dill pickles, fresh Italian bread into great grilled cheese sandwiches, homemade yogurt with last season's frozen blueberries, and, here it comes, Sue's fantastic winter feast - homemade tomato soup.

Oh my.

Joel sat silent during most of the lunch except for sweet moans of pleasure. Once he spoke in sympathy for our world, "Don't you wish you could feed this meal to everyone in the world?" Yes.

The pickles came from small jars. With each we remember gathering cucumbers late in the season at every farmers market we could find.
Though Joel makes great wheat bread, we did finally find the amazing Roma bakery in Lansing, Michigan and treated ourselves to rum cake and a fresh loaf of their bread for super grilled cheese sandwiches (olive oil and butter loaded with Colby and mozzarella cheese lightly dusted on each side with garlic salt before pan toasting).

The star of this meal, preserved at the peak of tomato harvesting - Tomato Soup - is the great gift in the cupboard all winter long: tomatoes cooked down with bits of vegetables - celery, carrot, onion onion, maybe a sweet pepper and a full bouquet of fresh basil. All blended, added lots of butter and seasonings, put in jars, then hot water bath in pint and quart jars. Preserving food to sustain us through blizzard days.

I'll get the true recipe for you when the season comes. If you try this fine soup, prepare to buy at least a bushel or two of tomatoes. You may be giving a lot away.

Yes, I'm back to the crunchy blog and so happy to be with you. As always thank you for stopping by and checking on me. Love, Helene

Bread and Butter Pickles - A Great Place to Start

       My good friend, Karmen, hand writes actual letters that I am so greatful to receive.

These special post office gifts from our Karmen include cartoons and tidbits of news and quotes that declare the season we are in. The letter today began with a special quote:

In the summer the song sings itself. – William Carlos Williams

        Daughter Jessie started a garden this year – tomatoes, peas, peppers, zucchini , and cucumbers. We got regular updates on the progress of this enriching experience. The cucumbers have burst forth with enthusiasm. It’s pickle time!

       For all the life we lived together as Jess grew up, the preserving details seemed to have been obscured by the bounty. She had questions for her garden goodies and she wanted answers . . . Now!

We made a shopping list for bread and butter pickles – big pans, canning tongs and funnel, canning jars with lids and rings, box of coarse salt, seasonings: mustard seeds, celery seeds, and the far east wonder, turmeric. Don’t forget white vinegar, sugar, and a large onion.   

        We went over the process in notes – cut the cukes in 1/4 inch widths, soak them in salt water brine for about 3 hours, sterilize jars in hot water pan. Bring the vinegar, sugar and spices to a boil. Fill the jars with the cukes and onion. Pour the hot vinegar over the cucumbers, put the lids on, Carefully place the jars in a big pot of boiling water for 15 minutes.  Remove the jars with the tongs and let cool in plain sight.

       We got the call about 8:30 that evening: Ping!  My favorite summer song.

Later Jessie said the jars are gorgeous and that she feels so good about her first canning experience, she said she feels liberated.

Thanks for stopping by again, we love to hear comments. Enjoy the summer magic!

Love,

Helene (author of A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy GranolaChanged My Life, Amazon e-book, $2.99)

Cooling of the Dunes 24x20 oil by Joel F Ellis
A great place to enjoy summer - ahhh.

Happiness Runs in A Circular Motion . . .

       I've been thinking a lot lately about what makes for happiness. The founding fellows thought so much of happiness that pursuit became a declaration. The word has almost become undefinable yet we all have a vague feeling of what happiness can mean to our lives. 

       We recently watched an interesting movie, Hector and the Search for Happiness, in which a psychiatrist subjects himself to a journey of researching just what people think is happiness. One of several views in the movie seems to define the feeling for me, "Is happiness not the sum total of lots of small joys and pleasures?”  ― François Lelord, Hector and the Search for Happiness  I'll bet you can think of ten moments right now in your memory that compile a swell of happiness in you.

        

Egrets returning to Michigan

       Okay, listen up, and I mean that – listen inside you, a tune you know very well, while I tell you a special story of happiness.

       We were walking across the beautiful Lake Lansing Park near our home on a chilly morning when a child, a girl maybe 8 or 9 years old ran past us. She was on a mission. She ran into the depths of the wooden play structure at the south end of the park, a temple, a great cathedral for play.

        In the center of the structure is a large simple xylophone. I imagined this child in the early

morning rushing through a bowl of colorful cereal thinking over and over on what she was about to do. I imagined her raising the hammer above those heavy metal strips, first cautiously – two notes to start, up one, and up again another – two strikes, then gentle steps back down as she continued to play the song, until emotion filled in us as it must have in the composer.
       This song of victory, of nations, of workers humming in labor, this song presented by a child, rang out across the lake forcing every molecule in the cloud-like morning fog to echo the centuries old cry of Beethoven’s powerful Ode to Joy!

       Now I am happy to think that you have read and perhaps sing again this treasured piece. As Donovan Leitch reminded us, "happiness runs in a circular motion, thought is but a tiny boat upon the sea, every body is a part of everything anyway, you can be happy if you let yourself be".

Thanks as always for stopping by. I recently took a big step for me and opened a Facebook account. Fascinating.

love, helene (please check out A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy Granola Changed My Life, Amazon e-book, cheap 2.99)

E.H. Rusk, artist, Preserved Living Gifts In Her Paintings

       We’ve almost eaten all the pickles. The sweet salsa tomatoes are all gone as are the stewed tomatoes that perked up vegetable soups and Italian sauces. One half-pint spiced blueberry jam sits yet on the shelf looking a bit bewildered. We have consumed the carefully preserved foods from 2014.

       We know new produce will soon “come on” fast. Peas first, then beans – little surprises under large green leaves – tomatoes will tease with tiny yellow blossoms, then tiny green globes. But these take so long we may become complacent until they ripen and for the love of life itself, you better be ready for the beautiful, brilliant, succulent, . . . you get the idea. If you are canning tomatoes this year start planning now.

       This week I had an epiphany about preserving all this beauty when we happened on an estate sale in our area. The sale consisted of mostly art, oil paintings, from the hand of an elderly English professor at the university, Elizabeth Hartley Rusk. She took to still life works. I imagined her enthusiasm as she discovered light direction and its shadowy impact on the fruits and container forms in her paintings. How she might have gathered her “models” for these pieces – pots and bottles and pitchers of all sorts. How she chose the varied colors of grapes and apples and peaches.

     We could not resist. We selected some of these beauties to bring home appreciating the artist’s fine efforts she gave to her art. Then, in a flash, I realized that these paintings, works that were carefully crafted compelling us to look at them and see, may be the ultimate experience of preserving foods.

Thank you for coming back. I had to complete a big project leaving this little blog for a while. Please come again soon and thank you for the increase in sales of A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy GranolaChanged My Life, we were delighted with the personal notes from some of you.

 In Peace,

Helene

Paintings by Elizabeth Hartley Rusk, English professor from Michigan State University
passed in 2010 at the age of 98

Ah, WINTER

Winter may try to

rule our sorry selves,

no match, my dear, for the

laughter of children

and happy dog.

Love, 

Helene

Thankful for Special Gifts

Hello again – I’m happy you returned. I wanted to tell you so much since we were together but always some interruption, then a large box came into our life. Last week we were in one of those plowing through the to-do lists, stirring the pot with a nasty mix of worries, when the doorbell rang.

A box lay against the door as the delivery agent hopped in her truck. An unexpected gift from beloved friends. We carefully opened the box to a note, “From the Farm”.

A large bouquet of natural grasses including broom corn, wheat stalks, some delicate other and one large dried Hydrangea blossom carefully huddled in anticipation of the coming praise. The bouquet spoke dramatically of the bond this friendship has over many years.

But wait, there is a smell, a rich deep earthly animal smell: a small rolled bag in the corner of the box stuffed with a ball of white wool. We drew in healthy breaths of the pheromones and imagined the low barn light, soft chawing from the belly of contented sheep laying comfortably in recently harvested straw – oh my, there is no other full memory than this, all the senses merging into this wonderful gift from the farm.

Now there is something grand to be thankful for, thank you, dear friends Sue and Ron.

To learn about the experiences that brought us to this good gift, treat yourself to a laugh and a moment of thoughtfulness about living close to the land while learning to do a business that goes national, check out the Amazon Kindle book, A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy Granola Changed My Life, cheap 2.99. Thank you and wishing you a bountiful Thanksgiving.

love, Helene

Listen to the Music of Fine Preserving

They are so pretty, those singing jars of pickles and tomato salsa, golden peach jam, apples and spicy blueberries. Each with one tiny song – a little “ping” as the heated jars cool on the counter. The sight and song is part of the reward of canning summer food for winter enjoyment.

This year we could not resist the bounty and gathered a little of this and a little of that for a steady accumulation of these pleasures, forgetting the really hard work that goes into this type of preserving food. We started with blueberries and ended with cinnamon apples.

A five-pound box of tasty Michigan blueberries called for that favorite recipe from the treasured  FinePreserving by Catherine Plagemann. Find all the little half-pint jelly jars, buy some caps and rings, sugar and spice, set it all up for a long look at the interesting art installation.

Apples are easy thanks to the hand cranked apple peeler/corer. Place the fresh apple on the spike, turn the handle and watch the long strips of peel stream into the refuse bowl. To fully enjoy apples this way, ask a three year old to join you. You will have delights to last your lifetime.

Tomatoes are the hard ones. This year the little garden could not produce tomatoes. In our frustration we went to the market and bought a half bushel of big red globes.

Tomatoes come on in a rush which is why eating while planning just what to do with them diminishes the crop before they are preserved. Oh those luscious, wet dribbles spilling out of slices on a plate with just a dash of salt, mmm wonder full, simply full of wonder.

Then the work begins, the mission: garden salsa. Drop tomatoes one at a time in boiling water then into a big bowl of ice water, peel and nibble, peel and cut, keep moving. Fill up vessels of chopped tomatoes with onions, garlic, peppers, a little celery, spices, vinegar and a bit of sugar. Keep moving. Drain. Heat in a pot. Get the jars ready (or containers for freezing when the can part of canning gets to be too much). Prepare a hot water bath for the jars. What the heck, this is a lot of work.

I am very aware that each canning season may be my last, aware that in the disbursement of goods from passing elders, the jars of their preserves are often divvied up among the living loved ones giving us real food for thought. I am aware that these small colorful memories including the immense joy of seeing amazement in young bright eyes at their first experience saving food will last a lifetime.

Ping. One by one the cooling jars one-note at us as we lay exhausted on the sofa. Yeah. It’s worth it.

Thanks for stopping by. I hope you get a chance to read my memoir book about the time I learned all this stuff, A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy Granola Changed My Life, Amazon Kindle 2.99. If you like it, please write a review. Enjoy this beautiful Autumn. Love your people every day.

affectionately,

Helene

Illness of Loved One is Gateway to The Zone

       We live our busy lives, contrived or real, when one day something startling and almost crushing stops the noisy spin and like walking into a transforming mist, we are thrust into a mysterious zone. That something for me recently was the sudden illness of a beloved one. The illness has taken weeks to level out and though now life has changed, the new activities surrounding have become part of our everyday to-do lists.

       In that time summer ended quickly and now we enter the desert days of pre-fall. Ahh. The harvest has turned from the short visit of tomatoes to the snap of crisp apples. Whatever didn’t get done in preserving will have to wait until next year, we hope.

       Hope is the thing. Philosophers hang their hats on Hope, telling us in sweet words to believe and never waiver. The philosophers’ poetry is becoming more difficult to accept as our vast intricate communications show us seemingly hopeless situations.

       Exiting the illness zone for a day or two, I did manage to “put up” a few jars of pickles – sweet butter pickles and exotic dills. Shining in the spice cupboard, these glass jars are a physical symbol of hope and the anticipation of meals enhanced in future days with the gift of spiced vinegar.

       I hope you can enjoy the adventure of this year’s harvest. I’m looking for an easy, tasty, moist fall fruit bread – squash or pumpkin, apple or pear. If you have a good bread recipe to share please let me know.
       Thanks to all who have made comment in person about the stories shared in A Homestead Decade, HowCrunchy Granola Changed My Life. And thanks for your patience in the delay of this blog while we made our way through the mysterious zone. 

Love,
Helene, author of A Homestead Decade, How CrunchyGranola Changed My Life
www.chicagoroadpublishing.com     

Zombies?! Really?

       Raising our children during the days of the Crunchy Granola book we, like all parents, worked hard to prepare them to be thoughtful about their directions, kind to others, and hopefully companion their lives with humor and wisdom.  

        Life with these babes brought us immense joy.

       We tried to teach the kids many of the self-sufficiency things we ourselves were learning. Animals were a big part of that and if you have read our memoir of that time, A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy GranolaChanged My Life, you would see how the circle of this life also dealt with death.

Where there is a safe nest of love and affirmation children will endure their parents’ flaws. Our children grew up as strong, intelligent and healthy as any other . . . . I think.

       The youngest of our three wonders, Jessie, a graduate in English Literature from Adrian College, and award-winning writer, has just written and published an e-book, Zombie Shorts. What?! Not a manual on solar energy, not a sociological research project, but a book of short stories about ….. zombies?!

Artwork by Dennis Preston

       I have to admit some of the stories are intriguing, mostly funny, using bits and pieces of Jessie’s life and education. My favorite stories are “Roxy Zombie”, a fast food worker who contemplates some difficult issues, for a zombie. In “That ol’ Boy” a character named Bunny, (because he once made a fantastic leap on a barroom bet) lived as a hoarder collecting vast amounts of unusual things including a valuable body part of an historic Lord in England during the Black Death, and the Lord, now a ghastly looking revenant, wanted the body part back. Then there is Merula Must Die, a well-told horror story, set in Ancient Rome,

There are also little pieces in this book like a letter and resume of a Zombie hunter and plenty of one-liners: “Zombies prefer the golfer to the game,” and “Zombies support gun control.”

       I hope the Zombie Shorts book goes well for Jessie and becomes a launching for future books, maybe not just about zombies.

Thanks always for stopping by and sharing this blog with your friends. I hope you get a chance to read, A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy Granola Changed My Life and I really hope you get a chance to enjoy Zombie Shorts by Jessie Pilly both on Amazon.com.

With summer delights, 

Helene

World Cup 2014 Brings Soccer Memories

        So, are you enjoying the World Cup 2014? The Cup has really become a giant in the Sports Mania that occupies so much of our Global pleasures. During the last part of our homestead decade, when we were deeply involved with a reality check about our future, our young son decided he wanted to play soccer. We had zero knowledge of the game and no resources in our rural area for implementing the game. But undeterred, our son put out a call to the community that anyone interested in playing soccer should meet at one of the school fields. We thought a couple of kids would show up, he would find another game to thrill him and we could all sit back and wait for soccer to come to our American sensibilities. 

Tagline in newspaper read "Guy Ellis shows form in 5-day soccer camp.

        Then one day, before the designated date, the phone began to ring, parents asking us more about the meeting that our 9-year-old had arranged. Will there be teams?  Who are the coaches? Is there a handbook of rules available for parents? What?! We were suddenly frustrated with an additional agenda item to our daily dilemmas. We, the parents were useless. It seemed as if thousands of kids and parents showed up at this “pick-up” soccer game. While adults struggled with what-are-we-doing-here, the kids organized three or four teams, cardboard boxes at each end of the field as goals, and began to race the ball back and forth across the playground.

       The kids loved the freedom to play, but lacked future organization. The success was the recognition that international “football” was indeed in America’s future. A summer youth program received a grant to bring in two professional soccer players from Belize to teach our little cubs. As it turned out, one of the Belize coaches was called to another awakening community while at that time a friend from Sweden was visiting us who happened to be a professional player in Sweden. He volunteered to spend the week with these eager children to teach this very popular world game. What a time. What a great time.

       Off sides is a common piece of soccer language, which makes me think, sadly of the other popular global occupation – war – what’s it good for, nothing. Somewhere youngsters like our son were thinking of their own interesting thing to do – tell stories through film. Guy Nattiv and Erez Tadmor are top film makers that you may have never heard of. They produced a short film (5+minutes) titled Off Sides, that you can view  on You Tube, (www.youtube.com, type - short film, Off Sides). It will take your breath away.

Thanks for stopping. Cherish our human goodness.

Love, Helene

Linotype Dreamin, OMG

       Have you ever seen a Linotype machine?  It’s a big cast iron frame with letter and symbol keys on three  levels. A cup of melting steel on the top of the machine drops hot metal down to a magical place where letters keyed in by the operator form words, then sentences, that ultimately become ideas or comments on ideas. It seems now like a medieval device sitting in the dark furnace rooms under the control of Linotype masters.

        I started my writing life proofreading the pages for newspapers in Detroit that were formed by the great word-makers. It seems as if I am confessing how very aged I have become. But really the Linotype monsters lived like giant healthy dinosaurs until suddenly sometime in the last quarter of the last century (about the time of our Crunchy Granola life) a cosmic swirl created another way to type, copy and print at the same time: the computer for the masses.

       By 1977 the Linotype submitted to sleek little machines with names like Vic-20 and Mackintosh. Yes there was a lot in between, the Remington and Selectric and other typing machines, but these, though very useful tools, were merely transitional. The computer has truly changed everything as we surf the cyber seas to even more adventurous devices – tablets and mobile phones that themselves will merge into even more and different means for our communication. With respect to electronic devices, the times really are a-changin.

       This is all very hard to explain to the children who have never even thought about the production of typed words. And why would I even try? The children have other things on their minds, they are too busy changing the words to fit their own little tiny micro micros – omg  lol. We certainly have come a long way. It is interesting to still be young enough to observe the journey. I can’t wait to see what is next.

       Well, I’m going to make a peanut butter honey sandwich, would you like one?

       Thanks as always for stopping by. Please check out A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy Granola Changed My Life, $2.99 Amazon Kindle (wow talk about changes). If you like it, we’d appreciate a review and thank you for sharing it with friends.

Love,

Helene 

Making Bread with Leon Russell

       I love bread. Not the aerated super processed bread, but those odd shaped loaves that come to the specialty shops and have names like Pugilese, Italian Rustic, Pecan Walnut Whole Wheat, Jerusalem Bakery pita. I love to think about bread and its development in world cultures from our very beginnings. 

       I love the way bread smells when it is baking and the special comfort such thinking brings. I love making bread, but that pleasure is happening less as the years go by for me, especially when I can buy luscious stone oven baked goods prepared by master bakers.

       Sometimes I buy too much bread and need to be creative about remaining crusts or suffer the guilt of having to discard the pieces overtaken by another fuzzy culture.

Stale homemade bread makes fine French Toast – in a wide dish mix egg, milk, a little sugar, a little vanilla (my grandmother’s secret). Mix well, dip bread slices so both sides are coated, place the bread in a hot skillet, fry on both sides. Serve with butter and 100% Maple Syrup. This gift is one of the great pleasures of life.

       Or you could dry the remaining hunks of older bread for a couple of great uses  -

Bread crumbs for coating – cut the bread into cubes, air dry for a day or two on a dish, then process the cubes in a food grinder for a few seconds, bag the fine crumbs to coat meat or vegetables or top a homemade macaroni and cheese

Dressing (any time of year) - tear the bread slices to dry for a day or two, mix the dried bread with a boiled broth (vegetables or meat or purchased) celery, onion pieces, season with your favorite herbs – salt, pepper, oregano, basil, celery salt. Add an egg, mix well and bake in the oven until a nice crust forms. Dressing makes a tasty carbo with an easy sauce.

Or share excess bread with the creatures outside (good for this beastly winter we’ve had – pun intended).

        One of my best memories of making bread is preparing the warm water, yeast, sugar, oil, flour and as I began the gentle body kneading motions of roll, push, tuck and roll again, Leon Russell came on the music box with the lovely A Song for You.

       Thanks for coming by, I love to see you here. Thanks to those who have commented so happily about my book, A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy Granola Changed My Life. Maybe you could jot a review to Amazon or share your feelings with a friend about the book.

      Wait, what’s that? I see something out the kitchen window – Sand Hill Cranes! Spring is coming! I see it on the colors of their grand wings.

Love,helene 

Poetry to Sustain Us

"Hold On" winter on Lake Michigan by Joel Ellis www.joelellisart.com 

Oh this long, loooong , winter! Even the seed catalogs feel like a fantasy. The wonder is if Spring will actually come. In the middle of a mournful groan over yet another blowing pile of snow in temperatures nudging 0, we received an e-mail from dear friends Ron and Sue, dairy farmers in this cold northland. I’d like to share their gift with you –

Feeling crusted

Check books busted

Don't like the trends

A way to get through

Thoughts of old friends                                           

  

Winter's too long 

Not so strong

don't belong

Need a good song

Before it all ends

Thoughts of old friends

Deal with the mess

Cope with the stress

Need to confess

Life would be less

       Without

Thoughts of old friends

Altogether now: Think Spring!!!!

Thanks you two, our thoughts of old friends do sustain us every day.

Thanks to everyone for stopping by, please take a look at tales of snow (and summer) in our memoir, A Homestead Decade, How Crunchy Granola Changed My Life, Amazon.com Kindle e-books, cheap $2.99.

Love,

Helene