Mud Season Musings

I'm going to start with a confession. My mom, a dyed-in-the-wool Mainer, moved to Florida quite a few years ago, and stayed there for most of the year, only coming home for Christmas and a little bit of the summer. My confession is that, among all the kids and step-kids, I'm the only one who never went to visit. My sister went, and even found parts of Florida that she liked. My step-brothers and step-sisters all went, and more than once. I even sent my daughter down alone on a plane, and she had a nice time. For myself, though, I just knew I would hate Florida.

As an avid reader of mystery novels, you'd think I would love it there, the home of not only Clinton "Skink" Tyree and Marion "Doc" Ford, but also of the father of Florida Tough Guys, Travis McGee. Nope, even that's not enough. The reason that I knew I wouldn't like it is that having a frost is so crazy there that it makes national news. That, and the fact the you could throw a frisbee over its highest point from its lowest point with little effort. Sorry, but this Maine boy likes his seasons, and his hills.

Ironwood Hollow Awaits Spring

Eventually, and sadly long after Mom gave it up and moved back home, I went to Florida for a weekend, and was completely vindicated. It's terrible there, or at least it is for me. The weather was mild, in the fifties, and people kept apologizing for the cold, as though their state was in breach of contract. There are no hills, neither up nor down, and that flatness applies to the weather as well. I couldn't wait to get back home, and will never go there again. That doesn't mean, of course, that I'll stop reading Randy White and Carl Hiaasen! This morning, snuggled in bed with my Honey and watching a drizzle feed the thriving crop of mud that is taking over our dooryard, we were talking about this, and realized that we both have the same prejudice.

Here it is; real, honest-to-god seasons, so that you have to change your wardrobe, either start a fire or open a lot of windows, and adjust to new waves of wildlife that follow those seasons, build character and give a shape to our lives. Yes, of course I get tired of shoveling and snow-blowing, of getting up before dawn to go out and be turned into Frosty while wrestling the old Gravely snowblower up and down our quarter-mile driveway, only to come in and shake life into my frozen fingers in front of a smoky fire. Yes, of course I can't wait for mud season to be over, when I don't know from day to day whether I'll end up frame-deep at the crest of the driveway, needing three men and a come-along to get out. Yes, of course I am ready for fall long before the mosquitoes, blackflies, and deer-flies have gotten tired of bleeding me dry in the hot sun. Absolutely, each season has its time, sometimes more than enough of it, and I keep having to adjust as one gives way to the next.

We can't imagine life without real seasons!

The point of it all, though, is that the process of loving, hating, and adjusting to, each new season is an enormously important part of what makes life interesting. I waited all summer to be able to kick through piles of autumn leaves with my Honey during our first fall season together. Then in the fall we both dreamed of being snowed in together, of watching the trees out the window, sagging under pillows of snow while we stayed snug under covers. Now we're eagerly awaiting that first day that's warm enough to sit on the porch in the sun, maybe with sweaters on. If every week were more or less the same, it would be like living in a house with only one book to read, wouldn't it? The sameness would be stifling. Sledding the car out through the deepening mud this morning, I celebrated in my head, thanking the universe for seasons, for cycles, for the woman who watches just as keenly as I do for that first touch of gold in the willows, then in the forsythia, then for the first north-bound goose, and then...and then...

Happy Mud Season!

Writing and Reading on Paper

Yes, I have been remiss in my blogging. Sorry about that! My excuse is that I haven't had an interesting DIY or cooking project going for a little while, and have instead been busy with things like the water heater not working, the snow needing lots of snowblowing, and similar efforts. The real reason though, if I'm perfectly honest with you, is more complicated, and has to do with this medium, the internet. 

I was just reading a fellow bookseller's blog, and he very intriguingly related books to horses. I think his point was that, even though we have always loved horses and relied upon them, they have been needed far less in the mechanized era, but books have been more resilient in the digital age. That's how it struck me anyway. I enjoyed the post very much, and it got me thinking. I find that once I saw through the glittery show of how much the internet and social media can connect us, bring information to our fingertips, render encyclopedias obsolete, and so on, and realized how thin the experience of digital media is, I am more than ever in love with paper books.

Apple Valley Books in Winthrop Maine

It's not just the books, though. I am more in love with live acoustic music, song from vocal chords, friends to talk to in person, real food on a real plate, and most importantly, love with the woman who shares so many up-close breaths of real air with me. It goes on...chess with Soren at the kitchen table is vastly more rewarding than chess online with strangers. Frisbee or other real outdoor play will beat any online play you can conceive of. Pinterest may show us the most delicious pictures of bacon-wrapped goat-cheese monkey-bread with avocado glaze, or whatever, but the finest thing to cross my palate lately was cooked by my Honey in a real pot on a real stove, and was not shared or liked online. For those who want to know, it was sweet potato and brussels sprouts baked with herbs, bacon, and chevre, but it could have been ANYTHING and beaten out pinterest.

Back to the books though. What I've been doing with my time hasn't been something that shares well on a blog, at least not yet. I've been fine-tuning my song collection with the goal of recording, for one. I have about a half dozen songs that I think are as good as any of my favorite recorded songs, within my musical taste, and will find a way to get them out into the world. Also, I've been writing, a novel, on paper. It's moving along nicely, and I am happy with it. I'm writing in pen on lined notebooks, then revising it just a bit as I type it on the computer. I found my old typewriter, got a ribbon for it, and when I can type out on the porch so as not to deafen everyone in the house, I'll switch to that for my first draft. The relationship between our dreams and imagination, and the physical act of writing down words, is a magical thing that I believe will survive the digital age intact. In this age, it may well be an e-book at least as fast is it can be a paper book, but the book-lover in me hopes that paper copies will be kept and loved for years on good old-fashioned bookshelves by people who live most of their lives away from glowing computer screens.

I'll be back into the blogging, I promise. There are many projects waiting for spring, waiting for the workshop to be warm enough to do carpentry in, waiting for winter to loosen its hold on those of us who live under the snowdrifts until May up here in Maine. In the meantime, get off this computer thing, and go play, write, cook, read, be with your loved ones, eh?

Men and Wood

If you have been reading right along, you already know that I have an affinity for wood. Trees are metaphor-rich, and I love metaphors. Some of my best childhood memories are about wood, from watching Dad build first a gunning float, and then a sailing dory, in our suburban basement when I was little, to building my teenage muscle by carrying anything I could of the trees he cut down for firewood, to earning minimum wage splitting enormous elm trunks by hand during one long and memorable summer. The memories are many, and powerful. 

Half your wood, and half your hay...

This winter, having a newly-enlarged family in the house, We've been going through more firewood, and that means cutting more firewood. That work has been lightened by having boys to help, and I am so very conscious that this work is my chance to help them gain similar memories, metaphors, and strengths of their own. Just as I remember my father teaching me how to spot cherry in a woodpile by the orange color of the heartwood as it seasons, how to measure out four feet quickly by waving the chainsaw over the log a certain way, how to bring down a snagged tree safely, I hope they remember decades from now these days of learning some of the same "guy-stuff" knowledge.

Don't get me wrong; I'm all on board with women doing heavy lifting and using power tools. It's just that working with wood is one of those few remaining arenas where men can almost always find common ground and a sense of shared humanity. In the last week three different men have stalled at the store, clearly not wanting to get back to their work or errands, because we got to talking about wood. Just today I spent a full hour talking about thermal mass, drafts, recirculating masonry-stove heat, and the relative merits of pellet stoves, with a man who obviously was thrilled to talk shop with another guy. Last Friday I spent a similar hour with a man who shares an interest in music with me, but who had never stayed so long to talk about guitars even though he is in the store nearly every week.

An ironwood sprig on the woodshed when it was new.

Last summer I spent one day with friends helping them cut and carry cedar logs for their planned cordwood masonry building project. It was gasping, back-wrenching, sweat-soaking work, and I felt like a dishrag afterward. But those few hours of grinning at each other through the flying wood-chips and mixed-gas smoke, joking while carrying logs too big to be exactly good for our backs, conferring about which way to drop a particularly tricky tree, all brought Ben and me much closer than we had been before. I eagerly await a next time, even as hard a day as that was. 

I wonder if there's something to the idea of a wood-centered workshop for men and boys, where those who know, share what they know, and those who are new to tools, trees, even to varieties of wood, can learn, and build their connection to nature and to their own manliness, which is really just one of the kinds of humanity if you think about it. Cut down a few trees, learn what it is to carry a tree-length log through the woods, get the smell of bar-and-chain oil in your hair, split a bit of firewood by hand, learn to identify the most common trees in your area, and then bask in the afterglow of all that work, leaning on the result of your work, still talking wood, trees, and stoves with the guys.

Guns by a Gun Guy

Okay, I have been wrestling with my initial promise to myself not to blog politically here. I believe that we all have much in common by virtue of our humanity, and that politics, and political discourse, makes us maintain inflexible walls. I believe that people all over the political spectrum can share views and advice about very meaningful stuff, homesteading, living a loving and respectful life, making do with little, being creative, loving life, beauty, song, stories, and one another. With that in mind, I really really do intend to leave political discussion to other people. I want to write here about non-divisive aspects of living in a positive way.


But recently, in the wake of the school shootings at Sandy Hook, it seems that everybody is talking about guns. That's not political in the sense that arguing about teabaggers/libertarians/Maddowites/Foxdrones/Feminazis, etc., is political. America's gun culture is unique in the world. So many factors in our history have brought us here, from the oddly phrased second amendment to the cowboy culture of the Victorian Age in our western states and the hunting and trapping that was so significant to the development of our groundbreaking ancestors, just the grandparents and even parents of many of us. When people say that guns are inseparable from American culture, they are right. 

Before you change the channel on me, let me set out my credentials on the issue. I grew up in a gun home. My father was a riflery coach in the local high school when I was young. I learned to shoot at about age five. I have been duck-hunting, partridge hunting, rabbit hunting, deer hunting, skeet-shooting, oh hell, shooting anything I could call a target for as long as I can remember. I own four guns, and am honestly considering another. All four of those guns are quickly accessible to me, and loaded, when I am home. I have a valid concealed carry permit in two states. 

Here's the kicker. I revere life, love, and peace. Unlike many of my fellow gun owners, my reaction to the Sandy Hook killings was not, "Oh boy, now Obama is gonna take my guns, I knew this was coming," but rather, "Oh, those poor families. What has gone so wrong with humanity that anyone at all could ever actually shoot one defenseless child after another? And what can do to prevent this from happening again?"

I have a great deal of respect for the frontier culture, the hunting culture, the history of successful rebellion, that have brought us to where we are. I hold much of that close to my heart. But listen. We don't have unpoliced frontiers any more. We are not rebelling against the king any longer. Almost anywhere in the country, if you have a shotgun with two rounds in it, or a small handgun, and a triggerlock, in your bedroom, you are adequately prepared for just about any possible criminal incursion. And I don't understand why anyone who hunts in American needs a gun that shoots more than a handful of rounds at once. I don't understand why anyone who leads a normal life in ANY city in America needs a handgun that shoots more than five or six rounds. We don't live in the movies. We live among humans. Nobody, and I mean nobody, in our country, has a need that I will accept, to be able to fire more than a half-dozen rounds in a minute. If no weapon that could exceed that were legal, we'd have fewer gun-related deaths. Simple as that.

The argument that there are just too many guns out there, that regulating them wouldn't keep them from the hands of those who might do harm, is just baloney. I remember when it seemed ridiculous to stop drunk drivers, because it was so much a part of our culture, or to prevent people from smoking in restaurants for the same reason. Looking back, I'm glad that legislation was passed to move both of those issues in the right direction. We can do the same thing with guns. Here are some possibilities. 1. We make ownership of high-capacity magazines, and automatic-fire weapons illegal. Yup. Don't need them to hunt, don't need them to protect your home, don't need them at all. You want to have that kind of killing power? Join the army. 2. Require liability insurance for gun ownership, with rebates for safety procedures, same as we do for moving motor vehicles. Tell me why not. I'll insure mine, no problem. 3. Require training, certification, and registration of all gun ownership. Tell me why not. We already do it with cars, and they actually provide a non-violent service on a daily basis. 4. Charge anyone whose gun is used in a crime with negligent manslaughter or whatever else is appropriate. If you have a gun, and someone else can readily find it and shoot it, you are irresponsible with a deadly weapon. Tell me why not.

I'll get back to how-to, building, crafts, creative writing, etc, now that I have this off my chest, I promise. Thanks for listening. 

Saurkraut at Home

Sauerkraut ingredients lining up.

We have been reading  a lot about fermented food, and decided last week to jump in with a small batch of sauerkraut. Here's why. A: Fermented food keeps much more of the nutrients intact than canning or freezing. B: "Probiotics" is a fancy word for the stuff that is good to have in your belly that comes from things like yogurt, pickles, sour cream, raw vegetables, etc. Rather than buy probiotics, eat raw and fermented for for the same benefit! C: We both really love sauerkraut. D: you save money making stuff like this from scratch!

Okay, so what we did was thinly slice a head of cabbage, two apples, and a couple of carrots. Then we laced the resulting salad with sea salt, put it under a plate with a big weight on it ( 4-litre wine jug full of water), and waited for the salt to draw the moisture out of the vegetables, making a brine. After one day, we didn't have enough brine, so we made some with sea salt and water, adding it until the vegetables were submerged. We left it to sit and pickle in the brine, with the naturally occurring enzymes doing their thing, for several days. Yesterday we tasted it, and it was really yummy! The idea now is that we will save it in jars, making sure to have an inch or so of brine above the contents, in our cellar. It is supposed to last for many months that way, but I don't think we'll have any left after the first two weeks, so I think we should start another batch.

Sauerkraut in process!

We look forward to having a crock stewing in its own juices all the time, and a decent supply of jarred sauerkraut so we can grab some as a side-dish at a moment's notice, much the same way as we do with our mead brewing. The cost is almost zero, and the flavor (and health) rewards are enormous.

One link we like for this is Nourishing Days, which has a non-intimidating how-to for making sauerkraut, among other great things. The next thing we will likely try is pickled carrots. When we feel really emboldened, we'll try kimchee, which is a big step for me. The last time I made something that I had only ever heard of, but never tasted, it began a lifelong passion for mead-brewing, which provides the ultimate fermented food, goes without saying...

Ironwood Coasters

Pentacryl wood stabilizer

We approached the holidays agreeing on wanting to make things by hand for gifts as much as possible. Both of us remember reading about Christmas in the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, and agree that a morning like that, with simple, love-filled gifts from the heart, among the close family, is just what we need more of, instead of the competitive shopping mania that brings so much stress and not so much happiness to many families. Sure, there were some gift cards, books, store-bought boots, and the like. But that will be the case less and less as we move through this change. 

The coasters drying...

  Bottles of mead, with a simple bow of pretty yarn. Bottled peppermint cordial (one of our first shared brewing efforts) with hand-written labels in cute little bottles. Hand-made oak personal-sized chalkboards with attached chalk pencils. Personal objects with inlaid scrimshaw name-plates, and some personalized scrimshaw jewelry. And, to commemorate our first holiday season as a family at Ironwood Hollow, some ironwood coasters! These were so much fun to make, tromping around in the woods looking for the right tree, taking turns dipping them, decorating them as part of our late-night Santa's Workshop sessions! No way will we ever want to spend part of the run-up to Christmas elbowing our way through mall-stores for just the right plastic object from China...

Gifts from Ironwood Hollow!

We had seen a product advertized that claims to stabilize wood so it wont split as it dries, called Pentacryl. The supporting documentation is vague about how long to soak wood for best effect, and since we were running late with our projects, we just soaked all of the slices of wood for a few minutes and hoped for the best. We'll post updates as we see how the coasters hold up.

What we did was cut a medium-sized ironwood tree down, and use about three feet of it sliced into 3/8 inch disks. The rest of it will be excellent firewood! In other parts of the US, ironwood means something else. Here in the northeast that's what we call Hop Hornbeam, an understory hardwood that grows slowly and if very dense and hard, making excellent firewood. The disks were then soaked in pentacryl for a few minutes apiece, and left to dry for a couple of weeks. Then we simply ornamented each one with "Yule 2012", tied them into little bundles, and added them to the other gifts. Voila! Ironwood Hollow coasters for the very first time!

Our first Solstice together! First of all the rest <3

We got the idea from some "redneck coasters" sent to me years ago by my Kansas friend Clem, which are made of osage orange, or "hedge" as he calls it, another very dense wood. Those have sat beneath many a candle, cup of mead, or coffee ever since they appeared here in the mail as a surprise gift, and I hope our coasters will be as much appreciated in the various households they ended up in last week.

Maine Firewood Values in BTU

Heat Values for Common Maine Firewood.

I grew up with a couple of woodstoves, and have gotten used to "just knowing" which wood is best for heating the house, and how much heat I'll get from a particular stove-load of firewood. I can tell how long I have before I should look at stoking the fire again, by what I've put into it, and how well it's burning. This becomes second nature after a while, honest. If you are new to wood heat, it may seem like just too many variables, too many maybes. Sometimes you go to bed with a stove full of wood and wake up to good coals, sometimes it's all gone by morning. Trust me, it will make sense after a while.

The heat generated by burning wood is measured in BTUs, or British Thermal Units. Briefly, a BTU is the amount of heat needed to raise a pound of water from 39 degrees to 40 degrees fahrenheit. Most of the world measures heat by joules, but the BTU hangs on in talk of furnaces and wood-stoves. Specifically, firewood is rated in milllions of BTUs per cord. To complicate things a little further, there's the factor of how much of the heat is expended vaporizing the water contained in the wood. Now to be frank, I ran into this in my research and thought, Huh. the heat doesn't leave the house other than up the chimney, whether it's vaporizing water in the wood or not. Why should it matter? I found lists showing the effective heating of wood after considering this factor, lists that showed the raw heat availability, and lists that showed both. Some of them seemed to conflict with my experience of the heating utility of the kinds of wood that I'm used to. The sources that most closely match my experience, using the wood I almost always burn, yield these results. In Maine, most of what your likely to burn is listed here, with the best heat-providers at the top.

To be clear, if you burn softwood, like dry pine or cedar, it will burn hot. But it will burn up and become ash very quickly, compared to the hardwoods. I include hemlock because it lasts a bit longer than that, and is a good wood to include in your firewood mix to use for morning fires, just getting the heat going quickly.


There are considerations, of course. Poplar starts to rot very quickly if it is not split right away, same as all kinds of birch. Hornbeam and oak, while great heat sources, are best added to a fire that is already hot and underway. It is much easier to start a fire with hemlock and maple. Smaller pieces burn up faster than bigger pieces. If you are new to wood heating, at least try to get the hang of this; when you are there to tend it, run a smaller fire, but hotter (more air, more flame). Tend it often, adding just a stick or two. This will be quick, hot fire that will be better for your chimney, and honestly more enjoyable to look at. When you go to bed, or when you leave for work, stuff your stove with larger pieces of wood from the top of this list, and give it less air. It will burn slowly, but long. The downside of those long burns is the creosote buildup in your chimney. You can combat this by running the fire hotter when you are at home.

 Another consideration is that while oak and ironwood are your greatest heaters, they also grow slowly, ironwood especially so. You can't use several cords of ironwood annually for very long before you run out of it, and have none left growing. A variety is good, and leaving the right blend of younger trees behind to mature is also good.