tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6570773116056607942024-03-05T13:05:36.619-08:00Ironwood HollowIronwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-56718851040645582122013-10-02T09:47:00.000-07:002013-10-02T09:47:36.546-07:00Fork in the Road<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We are lucky enough to share a decent-sized piece of the woods with my father, who lives in his geodesic dome in the middle, and my sister, who lives on the north end in an adorable cape tucked into a curve of Bump's Brook. My roots are deep here, so I may be biased, but Maine is simply spectacular, and our road is particularly nice. A couple of miles of it, where it skirts the <a href="http://mapcarta.com/22277270" target="_blank">Great Sidney Bog</a>, is undeveloped, with no homes or even telephone poles, giving us a perfect view of each season's foliage and other natural bounty whenever we head toward town.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Technically, our driveway should have a name, according to town rules, since there are two households on it, but they've never made us do it. That means that we give directions by saying, "Go about three miles, turn left at our box number, drive across the stone bridge, and at the top of the driveway, don't go to the dome, bear left, past the barn, we're the other place..."<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7spiSDHfhi6fA9zczbJfSu0TuzUHt3JdSNju_Fta9cjaZLdNh1uiRi33HVNwgPUpkNYTvhBvB6vqTpGroE_Ltr1lDncRJj1X8o9n-vta3gSnZ8EV113tT33sA6NF9f3_4rlU6LJK0QJU4/s1600/IMG_0665.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7spiSDHfhi6fA9zczbJfSu0TuzUHt3JdSNju_Fta9cjaZLdNh1uiRi33HVNwgPUpkNYTvhBvB6vqTpGroE_Ltr1lDncRJj1X8o9n-vta3gSnZ8EV113tT33sA6NF9f3_4rlU6LJK0QJU4/s1600/IMG_0665.jpg" height="411" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>The Dome on Mellow Hill</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Dad has it a little easier, since the dome is unmistakeable. Still, the driveway has a fork in it, and that has been nagging at me for a long time. One of the great gifts from my Dad has been his love of wordplay. More than once he has held a "proverbidioms" party, which meant that guests tried to figure out that a cedar tree wrapped in birch bark was meant to depict "Barking up the wrong tree," A recently dug hole with a playing card at the bottom was "ace in the hole," and so on. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In that spirit, for his recent birthday, I used five feet of galvanized flashing, tin snips, and a center-punch to make him his very own landmark:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn3GpziD28KChyaH1vvTP5gMQ0ZDr6jV1-I1aYcQQQk9yi4w6AUOgUJrdGSaTAdSiIGgDjdUj6S9LNcFgnHBrKmVe1UAX_aBSJtcDZpMPoVKkLq9Fuh3Dp_EAFKgYyUMpTbXiEb9rjJZsv/s1600/forkinroad.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn3GpziD28KChyaH1vvTP5gMQ0ZDr6jV1-I1aYcQQQk9yi4w6AUOgUJrdGSaTAdSiIGgDjdUj6S9LNcFgnHBrKmVe1UAX_aBSJtcDZpMPoVKkLq9Fuh3Dp_EAFKgYyUMpTbXiEb9rjJZsv/s1600/forkinroad.JPG" height="537" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Turn left when you come to the fork..."</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Needless to say, this was a lot of fun to wrap and present to him on his birthday, and he promptly mounted it on the woodshed. Now he can tell people to turn right at the fork, and we can tell people to turn left. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hmmm...I think it could be time for another Proverbidioms party!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span>Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-18231101685167686932013-09-26T07:46:00.000-07:002013-09-26T07:46:01.661-07:00Cup of Bliss and Snapping Sails<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I have heard it said that a danger in songwriting is when your songs become too personal, too autobiographical. I can understand why that could be; I have written some songs at low points that, while very good, I'm not ready to share. When you're a sensitive songwriter-poet, one rocky spell, one terribly sad day, can send a song onto your pages that doesn't really represent your life. Some day I will share those songs, but not now. The "Wow. My Honey!" songs actually do represent my life, and I'm sharing those now. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIDhbsTlHm6azSCPbcBOiwAigB_Zt4qLRSxFNIZIu8o0dP8Auwz4kSWJqTLvZYFqJybtqDaPq5UWsMMLRy22ZGLNUu16vzclQNaZ-kt-S6fSttH9cH2QsXEyRM-Ln0UuOe7j4_3WLDqPH/s1600/cupoflove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIDhbsTlHm6azSCPbcBOiwAigB_Zt4qLRSxFNIZIu8o0dP8Auwz4kSWJqTLvZYFqJybtqDaPq5UWsMMLRy22ZGLNUu16vzclQNaZ-kt-S6fSttH9cH2QsXEyRM-Ln0UuOe7j4_3WLDqPH/s1600/cupoflove.jpg" height="367" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">Cup of Bliss by Harper Meader</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My song, <a href="http://harpermeader.bandcamp.com/track/cup-of-bliss" target="_blank">Cup of Bliss</a>, is an exception in a way, because it alludes to having trouble together. The line, "I don't know where we'll be tomorrow" really needs to be there, if only because it's true (and I know people deeply in love can relate) that my greatest fear is losing my Honey. What is also true, but couldn't be worked into the song, is that I know with my whole being that I can only be with Her going forward, or alone. More than anything, the song is about how as a poet I feel the depth and mystery of the world moving within me, demanding that I write it down somehow, that I sing it. Finding love has woken that side of me up in a way that I'm still coming to grips with. For me, the most powerful line, referring to a transformative dream that I will never forget, is "I'll keep my seat, the tiller-handle tightly held while the current rages."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The title, Cup of Bliss, is in fact a deliberate echo of <a href="http://www.amoslee.com/default.aspx" target="_blank">Amos Lee</a>, who is a major inspiration to me. My song is not really on-topic with his song, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s8Q1O4pK0kI" target="_blank">Cup of Sorrow</a>, but that phrase has worked into my head far enough that it has become an important inner symbol of mine. It's hard to put into words, but the way we experience our world with those close to us is a cup that we drink together, and what kind of cup it is becomes an essential part of our shared experience. I'm truly blessed to share a cup of bliss.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For the musicians, I play this in standard tuning with the capo on two. Chords are Amaj7, A, E, Asus2, A7, and Ddim. I very much enjoy working with clustered chords that move together easily, and this set is very good that way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> - - - - - </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ShhdUaS53LkkFEcToZJt48rj3wleEkiLM0L9LoK5-IQNCI1Sp1C7ttN2_WNgiHfUmswAQW0AkPGAUiHoRO_59yMjdYs0NoPiJI-bFOKFhpJaTr6GVmMBLgzaDOthU-zwwLQ3q9Pz_gO9/s1600/snappingsails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ShhdUaS53LkkFEcToZJt48rj3wleEkiLM0L9LoK5-IQNCI1Sp1C7ttN2_WNgiHfUmswAQW0AkPGAUiHoRO_59yMjdYs0NoPiJI-bFOKFhpJaTr6GVmMBLgzaDOthU-zwwLQ3q9Pz_gO9/s1600/snappingsails.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>Snapping Sails by Harper Meader</b></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When I first started playing mumblety-summat years ago, the music I most wanted to play was that of Gordon Bok, Stan Rogers, and Gordon Lightfoot. Whales and sails, hauling nets, hardened tars, schooners, clippers, sea-foam...oh, the language of sailing is so evocative, gut-level imagery for someone like me, with sailing in my genes! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">One day when I was practicing my way through all the love-songs that have come to me me recently, my Honey said, "You know, Harper, you really should write a sailing song since you love the sea so much..." I just nodded at the time, but one day at work, maybe a week later, <a href="http://harpermeader.bandcamp.com/track/snapping-sails" target="_blank">Snapping Sails</a> came to me, all in one sitting, and I like it very much. Of course, true to form, by the end of it, it's another love-song; I just can't help myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For the musicians, this one is dead easy. Standard tuning, using Am, F, Dm, G, and C. At the end of the chorus you'll need to do a little "add4" to the C chord with your pinky, and that's it. I play it two-fingered, but it strums well too.</span>Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-37973680619262683032013-09-19T06:15:00.000-07:002013-09-19T06:15:27.364-07:00The Glassblower's Breath and Magic in the Moonlight<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT1jc8Cc30Gfa9Z3hyJpDE1VbaAs1SSd5o-XlolNn3q5RZcpFoLMJqNhunjOs30GPfhKwaD6ckqJogCaZhAhRKzPBRALpBD59Z3-UDRVH35AIuJl3GRAYTyfw1bW7nPNI2GU7jn19DVucn/s1600/IMG_4412+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT1jc8Cc30Gfa9Z3hyJpDE1VbaAs1SSd5o-XlolNn3q5RZcpFoLMJqNhunjOs30GPfhKwaD6ckqJogCaZhAhRKzPBRALpBD59Z3-UDRVH35AIuJl3GRAYTyfw1bW7nPNI2GU7jn19DVucn/s1600/IMG_4412+(2).jpg" height="172" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">"The way the scent of wild roses makes me want to pull her down, down by the ocean..."</span></b></td></tr>
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Rumi, that seer and poet tormented by love, wrote often of the consuming power of ecstasy, the ecstasy sometimes of love, sometimes of simply touching the universe. My very favorite Rumi poem, <a href="http://www.poetseers.org/spiritual-and-devotional-poets/contemp/rumibarks/the-new-rule/" target="_blank">The New Rule</a>, has a couple of lines that have stayed with me my entire adult life. One is:<br />
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"Here’s the new rule: break the wineglass,<br />
And fall toward the glassblower’s breath."<br />
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The other is right at the end:<br />
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"Only love.<br />
Only the holder the flag fits into,<br />
And wind. No flag."<br />
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Don't worry, I'm not going to interpret mystic love poetry for you; I know what it means to me, and that's enough. My own song, <a href="http://harpermeader.bandcamp.com/track/the-glassblowers-breath" target="_blank">The Glassblower's Breath</a>, in comparison, is more accessible. In it I'm simply reaching for the words to say adequately just how much my Love has changed my life, rescued me, brought me closer than I believed possible to that ecstatic love that Rumi knew. For her I'd surely smash the glass, and fall toward the Glassblower's breath!<br />
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For the musicians, I play this in standard tuning with a capo on only five strings at the second fret. The low note remains an E. I discovered partial capo-ing this year and have already written four songs that use it. You get the benefit of almost completely normal chords, with the added benefit of a dropped bass-note, really much cooler than it sounds! Chords are mostly variations of D, G, and A. One of these days I'll try to write up tablature for it. The bass run on the D chord is easier if you can fret with your thumb.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UCcr7yQfccQe5itXch7hjmCICC2Ve6-Svk_IDmwPL9ll7zn7AMvu9gLgVmtIGG_o4syQRyBmkD-uXuTzEiPHNc9iI9i0qG6eEAogTQJtigYqp2r7_IKNeT6eHHqR5b2AZd9GnaNVmKJ7/s1600/blue-moon-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UCcr7yQfccQe5itXch7hjmCICC2Ve6-Svk_IDmwPL9ll7zn7AMvu9gLgVmtIGG_o4syQRyBmkD-uXuTzEiPHNc9iI9i0qG6eEAogTQJtigYqp2r7_IKNeT6eHHqR5b2AZd9GnaNVmKJ7/s1600/blue-moon-large.jpg" height="400" width="341" /></a>The second song on the CD, <a href="http://harpermeader.bandcamp.com/track/magic-in-the-moonlight" target="_blank">Magic in the Moonlight</a>, is another of my favorites. I seem to write a lot of music late at night, sitting up in bed with my guitar, just barely touching the strings, while my Honey sleeps smiling. She tells me this is magical, that the music filters through into her dreams. All I know is that on a hot summer night, with the moon reaching through the window to light up the center of my world, words of love come to me powerfully, and that's where this song comes from.<br />
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"Oh, there’s magic in the moonlight,
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When lovers sleep
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With just a sheet
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And a glass of water sweating by the bedside"<br />
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For the musicians, I play this with a two-finger pattern, standard tuning, capo on two. The chords are Am, Dm add 9, Em, G, Asus2, and F. It's a nice chord sequence, and not hard.<br />
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I hope you enjoy my music, and pass it on if you know anyone else who might appreciate it. My hope is to finance the next recording project by selling enough from this one. The songs waiting to be recorded are at least as good! Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-80964821328538379702013-09-13T07:44:00.000-07:002013-09-13T14:08:29.113-07:00Strawberry Pear Locavore Mead<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We came home the other day to find a bushel basket filled with pears, good honest lumpy little things with all the blemishes that come from growing naturally. Dad planted those trees going on twenty years ago, and now there are more pears than he can find uses for, so he thought we might find a use for them. Well, even more of a use than all of us snacking on them like crazy as long as they last.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>Pears from Dad's trees next door at Mellow Hill!</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We immediately thought of mead, since it has been five years or so since I made a batch of pear mead. Rather than add oranges like last time, we decided to provide the citrus fruit content with a pound of gorgeous strawberries from the local farmer's market. Rather than add tea from across the world, we used shaved red oak bark, which has become my standard tannic acid additive. Straight from our own firewood stock is as local as it gets! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We haven't gotten our usual bulk honey from Swan's Apiaries in Unity, but did happen to have some even more local honey (from Sidney!) found at The Green Spot, a wonderful organic market in Oakland. So except for some spices, this a wonderfully locavore batch of mead. Here's how easy it was...</span> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>Pears being prepped for mead...</b></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We peeled and diced about three pounds of pears and started them simmering in a large skillet. To this we added the pound of strawberries and just a bit of lemon juice to help bring out the flavor. While that was all softening, we started mixing up the honey with water. This part is easy too. All we do is pour out the containers of honey, ten pounds this time, which will make a bit over two gallons, into a large kettle. Then measure two and a quarter times that much of hot water, and add that, stirring to dissolve the honey. Our tap water is beautiful well-water, so just hot from the tap works fine. If you don't have that luxury, you may want to heat up some good water from a spring or well. The hot water makes sure that you get all the honey from inside the containers. Water measured at 2 1/4 times the honey by volume gives you a good estimate of the right balance of sweetness for a good semi-sweet mead. (If you use a hydrometer, you could fine-tune it to between 16 and 17 percent potential alcohol.) </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>Pears and strawberries make great mead...</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">By this time a potato masher squished the fruit up beautifully, and we added that to the must. Finally we grated in a couple of teaspoons off of a chunk of red oak bark using a fine grater. If you don't have this, instead add two teabags of a standard black tea. Then some spices (nutmeg, cinnamon, cardamom, ginger), and it all went into a brewing bucket with a bubbler set up. We made sure it was well below a hundred degrees fahrenheit, and added a packet of Cote des Blancs wine yeast from Red Star. That's it. Now we simply wait for the yeast to make so much alcohol from all that honey that it dies off, let the sediment settle, and in two to four months we'll bottle and cork it, getting close to a case of mead if all goes well. This is our fourth batch so far this year. After decades of mead-making, I feel like I know what works best, what I like the most, and definitely have some varieties that I know I will always make. Still, there's always room for growth, and our recent shift to very local ingredients is a very nice trend. It will be better for us, and supports our local beekeepers and farmers!</span>Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-12946988792336744772013-09-10T08:57:00.003-07:002013-09-10T08:57:45.012-07:00Beloved Love and Snow Drift Love<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We have a couple of fun new things going on at Ironwood Hollow, but no photos ready today for those posts, so they'll wait. In the meantime, if you'll indulge me, I'll just talk a little bit about a couple of the songs that can be found at <a href="http://harpermeader.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">Harper Meader Bandcamp</a>.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhy8FMVpqQcqxxJnwThSL2yrrG2rWd7zMFndKHKnArJ328ZmebJwVy1Ga01RN1bFaJNqfRrgFI_DTZt1D2APvd3-GKomlq5Txmw52AYm8xX-FEZ7s0ykNgE_g4CimMITY2DsMEOUrQfxYV/s1600/Windglyphs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhy8FMVpqQcqxxJnwThSL2yrrG2rWd7zMFndKHKnArJ328ZmebJwVy1Ga01RN1bFaJNqfRrgFI_DTZt1D2APvd3-GKomlq5Txmw52AYm8xX-FEZ7s0ykNgE_g4CimMITY2DsMEOUrQfxYV/s1600/Windglyphs.jpg" height="230" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Life in our winter is simply amazing.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The oldest song on the CD is <a href="http://harpermeader.bandcamp.com/track/beloved-love" target="_blank">"Beloved Love"</a>, and it's dear to my heart. Honey and I knew that we were meant for each other. We longed to be together, and our lives were just not quite ready to allow us that gift of waking up to see the dawn together. For me, our precious moments of time together were the finest moments my heart had ever known, and I was caught in that perfect storm of being exactly where I wanted to be, needed to be, and knowing that it was fleeting. Dreading the dawn, because I would once again awake alone, and at the same time thanking whatever Gods or spirits had brought us together for showing me the answer to my heart's quest.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For the musicians, I use a four-finger picking pattern in regular tuning, sort of Gordon Lightfoot-style, and the chords are: Dsus2, Am, B7, Em, and G. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The next oldest is <a href="http://harpermeader.bandcamp.com/track/snow-drift-love" target="_blank">"Snow Drift Love."</a> I wrote this last summer, on a very hot day, knowing that soon we would be living together, that we would spend our winters together, awake together in the morning to see that amazing blanket of snow that sometimes stops everything here at Ironwood Hollow. My favorite word in the song is "dooryard," a quintessentially downneast term. I once met an Italian New Yorker, name of Gaitano, who had moved to Maine, and remember asking how he liked it here. He was thrilled. "Oh, the language is endlessly fascinating. Just today I learned to pronounce a new Maine word." Then he crossed his eyes, and carefully said it: doouh yaahd! Then he clapped his hands with delight, and said that he found our country ways so charming. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIcknu_Db3z75-u3xZZJirH7tHTUqAC0iZgd4E5s2mE7LCSToLnuYjaqOB53qY5FuXW2Dxk0JKrKe0ndbjy86TJd_7Qoo3E6ypnpv7YuTjQwqbFK18wZgIaDh1tZ0EWH0DcvIpuJH1iQpa/s1600/PathToWarmth.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIcknu_Db3z75-u3xZZJirH7tHTUqAC0iZgd4E5s2mE7LCSToLnuYjaqOB53qY5FuXW2Dxk0JKrKe0ndbjy86TJd_7Qoo3E6ypnpv7YuTjQwqbFK18wZgIaDh1tZ0EWH0DcvIpuJH1iQpa/s1600/PathToWarmth.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13;">...underneath is still the front yard we know...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">He has gotten tired of our country ways, and gone back to the city, but Honey and I, who truly love when we can see our breath in the bedroom on a frosty morning, still love our country ways, and this song is from when I looked forward to sharing that together with her. I hope you like the song, and queue it up on a blustery February morning...Honey and I will be tucked in with our tea, living the life we dreamed of, storm-stayed together and loving it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Oh, for the musicians, I play this one with an alternating two-finger pattern, regular tuning, and the chords are: E and Asus2 alternating for the verses, and A, E, and one B7 snuck in there, for the chorus. Very easy, and one of my favorite chord patterns.</span><br />
<br />Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-54374377848440445822013-08-30T09:49:00.001-07:002013-08-30T09:49:32.348-07:00Cordwood Masonry Acoustics<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As I wrote last time, I'm excited (me, Mr. Mellow, excited, yup!) about the final appearance of some of my <a href="http://harpermeader.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">recorded music</a>. Actually, 'excited' doesn't cover it; I'm having a hard time thinking about anything else, except for that new song I'm working on, which may be even better. The physical CDs just arrived, sounding great, and the cover art (photo by my Honey) came out perfectly. Since I can't think about anything else right now, I'm going to elaborate on this recording project.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvByaxT_TfOWmpvtoPB8yzO41DMMCZvBnYXX5H_Bfam-D4bJit59kX9avqTU7Ici2oMZHRMkCNqJsRuc43JoULb6LWRix1Kw53_htWYPcHBiCpkRSAYPnhI_ruJ_RnG6aJFnr1SkPoPzL5/s1600/cordwoodhoney.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvByaxT_TfOWmpvtoPB8yzO41DMMCZvBnYXX5H_Bfam-D4bJit59kX9avqTU7Ici2oMZHRMkCNqJsRuc43JoULb6LWRix1Kw53_htWYPcHBiCpkRSAYPnhI_ruJ_RnG6aJFnr1SkPoPzL5/s1600/cordwoodhoney.jpeg" height="317" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Music from a cordwood masonry mead-hall!</span></span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I've been writing music for a long time, and in the last couple of years, after falling in love with my Honey, that creative impulse has just skyrocketed. Finding that my heart is where it belongs, finally, has been amazingly good for my writing and composing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Months ago I asked my friend James Lindenschmidt of <a href="http://www.craftedrecordings.com/" target="_blank">Crafted Recordings</a>, who has all kinds of recording expertise, for pointers about getting some recording done. To my delight, he offered to help out, volunteering his considerable skills, at least in part because he had been wanting to try some recording in our house. The mead-hall, our central room with twelve-foot-plus ceilings, cordwood walls, and an adjoining space with gracefully curved walls, has great acoustic qualities. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">His version of this may be different, but here's why I think the space is so good for music. Cordwood masonry is not flat. It has a combination of very hard and somewhat hard surfaces, curves, and little angled segments all over it. So while it bounces sound nicely (compared to a curtained room, for example), it doesn't sound at all like a tiled space or a stairwell, with that complicated echo on top of everything. Not only that, but it is a magical space, made by hand with love, using natural local materials, and it is the perfect place for me to record my music. After all, it's where I write most of it, and it's where my Honey and I first met. Unless somebody tells me otherwise, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that this is the first professional music recording in a cordwood masonry space!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">James and I have much in common, including acoustic music, a similarly spiritual way of living in the world and a long-standing love of mead and mead-brewing. My first experience with his recording expertise was when he interviewed me years ago for his excellent blog, <a href="http://www.bardicbrews.net/2011/02/harper-meader-podcast-interview/" target="_blank">Bardic Brews</a>. Back then, he made me feel very much at ease in front of a microphone, and this time was no different, except that it involved more microphones! Then he put in many hours fine-tuning everything for me. The end result is a very good presentation of my and my songwriting at its current best, and I can't say enough about how sweetly he worked with the very raw material. Please check out the music, which is downloadable from most mainstream venues, as Harper Meader's EP, "Honey." </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Coming up, I'll talk in detail about some of the songs in particular, and also about why I like <a href="http://harpermeader.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">Bandcamp</a>. Stay tuned...</span><br />
<br />
<iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=2889197990/size=medium/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=e99708/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 120px; width: 100%;"><a href="http://harpermeader.bandcamp.com/album/honey">Honey by Harper Meader</a></iframe><br />
<br />Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-66090363999284377452013-08-15T10:47:00.000-07:002013-08-15T10:47:06.927-07:00Long Time Coming<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>Check out my (at last!) recording at bandcamp.com</b></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I guess you may have noticed, if you are a regular reader of mine, that I have been absent for way too long. Sorry about that! Here's what's going on...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">A long-time friend of mine, James Lindenschmidt of <a href="http://www.bardicbrews.net/" target="_blank">Bardic Brews</a> and <a href="http://www.craftedrecordings.com/" target="_blank">Crafted Recordings</a>, offered to help me with some recording. I have been a musician for my whole adult life, playing folk harp, fingerstyle guitar, hammered dulcimer, and an assortment of other instruments, but in the recent past my songwriting went into overdrive, fed by the life changes that came with falling deeply in love. Happily, my musicianship has kept pace with my heart and my writing aspirations, and I have a steadily-growing collection of really good songs to show for it! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I went into overdrive, consulting with my Honey about which were the best songs to break out with, practicing like mad, making sure I had the words just the way they should be...and new songs kept intruding! But eventually, just a couple of weeks ago, Jim came to Ironwood Hollow, toting all sorts of esoteric equipment, and Honey left us to our own devices. He told me that he has always wanted to try recording in our home, with its very unique acoustics that come from the cordwood masonry, the high ceilings, and the curved walls. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Long story as short as possible, we had about three hours of good recording time all to ourselves, and in that time we recorded six of my songs. For each of them, I played my solo arrangement and sang at the same time, then went back and recorded a harmony track and a second guitar track in some cases. The one that sticks in my mind the most is when I said, "Jim, let me just hear the tune, and I'll play through the lead guitar, and see if I remember how it goes..." When I was finished, he just said, "Oh yeah, I was recording; that's great. What's next?" </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Six songs of spiritual love recorded in a cordwood masonry meadhall!</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was that kind of session. Jim's knowledge of recording and innate calm made it a pure pleasure. Followed by many hours of his skilled time mixing and mastering, one of the finest gifts I've ever received, this session has turned into an EP of a small sampling of my recent music. (An EP is an extended play, several songs, but not long enough to be called a CD). I have been working my way through the process of making the songs available, now that Jim has declared the tracks finished. Actual CDs are in process, and I'll post details about that when it's all set up. In the meantime, <a href="http://harpermeader.bandcamp.com/">harpermeader.bandcamp.com</a> is where to go to hear them. I hope you will purchase all or some of them for download! Bandcamp offers music affordably, with the option of paying anywhere from a minimum up to what you feel the music is worth. They will appear in the other usual venues shortly (itunes, amazon, etc), as that process does its thing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The changes in my life and my heart that my Honey has brought to me are only hinted at in these songs, but I am so pleased to be able to share a bit of that joy with you. There will be more, since I've determined to make songwriting a major part of my future. Stay tuned. Among these songs you will find a steamy celebration of midsummer loving (Magic in the Moonlight), a rousing sailing song (Snapping Sails), the perfect tune for when you're storm-stayed with your love (Snowdrift Love), a partial-capoed pattern-picked epic-love-song for the guitarists among us, with a nod to the great love-poet, Rumi, (The Glassblower's Breath), and more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I hope that you like my work. My hope is that this project will fund the next recording, and that my love of music, words, spirit, life, and my Honey will become something more than a hobby, that it will bring a piece of that joy that is my life into the homes of many.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Okay, a final note...anywhere else you find my songs, they're likely to cost about the same, but at bandcamp, you get the lyrics for free, and you can hear the whole song right there before you decide to part with a dollar or two. Also, just sayin'...as one of my blog-readers, you know where to find me. If you play, and want to know my chords, or get a hint about the picking patterns that I use, you know where to find me. </span><br />
<br />Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-10607765492959401772013-06-07T07:56:00.002-07:002013-06-07T07:56:58.924-07:00Songwriting Takes Me OverYou may have noticed that I've been quiet lately, and I apologize for that. One of the reasons is that I have been plowing what creative time I have into my songwriting. A good friend has offered to help me record three or so songs, and I have been working like crazy at polishing up my best five (or so) songs to prepare for that. The trouble is that Love and the Muse, encouraged by the remarkable love story that is my life now, keep sending me off to write more songs, and what I think of as my top five songs keeps changing!<br />
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My fervent wish to express my feelings and experiences in a way that touches hearts, that may even brighten somebody's world, has pushed my musical ability to new heights, which after many years of being fairly intermediate is a very pleasant surprise. Inspired by the likes of Amos Lee, Ray LaMontagne, K.D. Lang, Jack Johnson, Gregory Alan Isakov, and a few others, I'm writing music that would have been impossible for me two years ago. So when James, my recording friend, gets me set up, I think the results will be very good indeed.<br />
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Just for a sneak preview, Honey and I have decided almost for sure which songs are in the top three. The first one is a love song written back when we had very little time together. One night I wrote the words in my head while lying awake wishing dawn would never come, because she would have to leave. It's unabashedly emotional, grateful, wishing for the moment to never end. Partial lyrics are:<br />
<br />
"Beloved love, wake to me!<br />
I hear you speaking in your dreams,<br />
Asking all the spirits 'round us<br />
Why does dawn come?<br />
Every time I wake to find you<br />
Sleepy-eyed, my arms around you,<br />
Waiting for your gaze to find mine,<br />
I thank them!"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15tRvXkDPpA2cvbSkc1yrVI9Q5Ue8e3MRKt0SEHLCQvoQMGXRDM3SvYJKksDb-wsHH6FKS0fWR5H3TPFYHXE70_At1ma9KjI-LWUBxKQDjmRcOiX6I62sPLcvspX-dbnv3e5AX3Luvm6h/s1600/snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15tRvXkDPpA2cvbSkc1yrVI9Q5Ue8e3MRKt0SEHLCQvoQMGXRDM3SvYJKksDb-wsHH6FKS0fWR5H3TPFYHXE70_At1ma9KjI-LWUBxKQDjmRcOiX6I62sPLcvspX-dbnv3e5AX3Luvm6h/s1600/snow.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a>Number two was written last summer, when I was looking forward to having my Honey move in with me, imagining that we would be snowed in here in the Maine woods together, the inexorable, beautiful drift-building weather a powerful metaphor for the way our relationship has only become more beautiful over time. It's very "Mainish," even using one of my favorite local words, 'dooryard.' Partial lyrics are:<br />
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"That's the way our love grows,<br />
Building slowly like these all-night snows.<br />
Underneath it all, just like our dooryard,<br />
Never changing since I fell so hard<br />
For you, that's what you do to my heart!"<br />
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Number three is recent. I have always loved sailing songs. I imagine my sailing ancestors whispering to my soul that the sea is calling, that I should follow in their salty footsteps somehow. Maybe this song will satisfy them. Like nearly all of my songs these days, love makes an appearance, but at heart it's a song about the lure of the sea.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJfa2dAq0ArYEYrxNglOIStxo2Z2-lxK1Ngl5v9hTrYVJnsUf3_bBMgoV89ehik0cywUn6telEeqkHW0_EhnPKmqTfk39Z_s6G7bD4nNzxzNJqaHx1gpYI1ydvLsnqJSwyQJjxLM3M-IVD/s1600/snapping+sails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJfa2dAq0ArYEYrxNglOIStxo2Z2-lxK1Ngl5v9hTrYVJnsUf3_bBMgoV89ehik0cywUn6telEeqkHW0_EhnPKmqTfk39Z_s6G7bD4nNzxzNJqaHx1gpYI1ydvLsnqJSwyQJjxLM3M-IVD/s1600/snapping+sails.jpg" height="195" width="320" /></a>"Once I asked the captain what he looked for in his roaming,<br />
He said sometimes he rounds Cape Horn, sailing back from Nome<br />
And then it's all downwind from there until he plants his boots at home,<br />
And that's all he said when I asked why..."<br />
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For the moment at least, these are the top contenders, but Love and the Muse keep distracting me with new ideas, and the songs are starting to pile up in my notebooks, about twenty so far. I'm champing at the bit to share them somehow, either by recording myself, or by finding homes for them with good recording artists. At least a few will make an appearance soon, recorded solo at Ironwood Hollow. Stay tuned!Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-72599239626740347232013-06-07T07:01:00.001-07:002013-06-07T07:01:50.835-07:00More on Wood and Men<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_ZxcGTE6JALZpuDZEYGA8blliHmj829veI9Uf624ih7tkN7KSzsh2e1qsPWbhDhrk1z-AFbNS0yTnJIrdLGdKG3SfsSy3kdcC5DmovEp8XtHWQ4e_fgV-81j3h5X3AIuGXYrVuDMWOu4/s1600/IMG_2808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_ZxcGTE6JALZpuDZEYGA8blliHmj829veI9Uf624ih7tkN7KSzsh2e1qsPWbhDhrk1z-AFbNS0yTnJIrdLGdKG3SfsSy3kdcC5DmovEp8XtHWQ4e_fgV-81j3h5X3AIuGXYrVuDMWOu4/s1600/IMG_2808.JPG" height="396" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">Blowing the sweat-lodge fire to life at Ironwood Hollow</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In my last post I speculated about some kind of workshop that would bring men and boys together to learn/share/grow in their experience with wood. I don't think gender is a defining point in this, but my own experience is based in being first a boy and then a man, so that's coloring my thinking. After I wrote that piece, I found this photo in my camera, and there's so much in it. Please allow me to ramble.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">On its face, what's happening is that the boys have decided to build a sweat-lodge. They found saplings that they could bend into shape, hunted down an assortment of tarps, old blankets, and plastic sheeting, and scoured the area for rocks to build a fire-pit. In the picture they are nursing a fire to life, to heat rocks and see if their sweat-lodge can be made sweaty and smoky. Right there, just that, is the kind of thing that I know in my heart is more good for them than a thousand hours of TV or computer time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My own personal overlay of this picture adds so much more. That hammock in the foreground? I put that up last summer, thinking that, with my Honey and the kids moving in, I would surely need to wander out there with a frosty beer and a good book more than once in a while. You know...still my mind, commune with nature, let the kid-thing fade for a few minutes a week...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I've lain on that hammock exactly twice. For no more than ten minutes each time. The reason I bring it up is that the reason is so great; I don't ever have the impulse to go hide from this new life of having the house filled with my Honey and the kids. If I'm out there lost in a book, pretending there isn't a handful of lives closely connected to mine within a frisbee-throw, then I'm missing so much that is incredibly important. Those kids will grow up and move out into their own lives before we know it, and while they are here, I'm not going to miss it! Also, back to the picture, I find a sweetness in the way the boys thought that right next to my getaway hammock would be a great place for their sweatlodge. How cool is that?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Okay, there are even more layers to why this is such a rich photo. Just to the right, out of the frame, is where I have my shrine to the spirits of place, the magical energy that is unique to our little patch of forest. When I made it, years ago, I envisioned a life before me of settling quietly into an increasingly solitary life, mellowing under the aging trees that I know well, fondly remembering my youth of climbing those trees...I'm reaching for, and can't find to my satisfaction, the words to express how incredible it is to me that I had that vision all wrong. That saplings growing under the protection of my limbs would grow right there, reaching for the sun, that another generation of boys would scrape their knuckles wrestling chunks of stone out of the ground and dragging logs around, finding a niche of their own in the forest that provided my own growing-up space not so long ago. The spirits of this place have new ears to whisper into. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The more I realize how insidious the influence of technology in our lives has become, the more I want to listen to the trees, the soil, and my own heart, the more convinced I am that "Go out and play" may have been the wisest thing our parents ever said to us. Let's say it more often, to our kids and to ourselves. </span>Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-28544539251572269812013-03-28T07:07:00.001-07:002013-03-28T14:21:20.962-07:00Mud Season MusingsI'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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhezHCsq7RDwh5JfvRK8sgE4YRBI9FkCPpslZRKWgWKUgepeXJ0FzBONZwX0XUTzL3tsMuEL6NDCFkJePPSAMUzUG8Bm_Dm2TfrTnkr93rDrK9gILkNO8hcoOPKX0MBqz7xZ1LSHUxm6e28/s1600/Ironwood+Hollow+Winter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhezHCsq7RDwh5JfvRK8sgE4YRBI9FkCPpslZRKWgWKUgepeXJ0FzBONZwX0XUTzL3tsMuEL6NDCFkJePPSAMUzUG8Bm_Dm2TfrTnkr93rDrK9gILkNO8hcoOPKX0MBqz7xZ1LSHUxm6e28/s1600/Ironwood+Hollow+Winter.jpg" height="293" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>Ironwood Hollow Awaits Spring</b></span></td></tr>
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoph9Z4Qz6SLcMkRHHDf87lz1MRRTDx-NU-vi-ftlh9N7bJryCmE-02OqTBu68MBKWAe36-XvmEGpJEd2LG3xuLWm3uDsGGFR67sfZFNvbF6KWAkI_cYGdw9eIX7xvmPyvp0SndwyGnyok/s1600/stagecoach+road+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoph9Z4Qz6SLcMkRHHDf87lz1MRRTDx-NU-vi-ftlh9N7bJryCmE-02OqTBu68MBKWAe36-XvmEGpJEd2LG3xuLWm3uDsGGFR67sfZFNvbF6KWAkI_cYGdw9eIX7xvmPyvp0SndwyGnyok/s1600/stagecoach+road+1.jpg" height="310" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>We can't imagine life without real seasons!</b></span></td></tr>
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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...<br />
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Happy Mud Season!Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-57693510645322373252013-03-22T07:33:00.004-07:002013-03-22T07:38:07.997-07:00Writing and Reading on Paper<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I was just reading a fellow bookseller's blog, and he very intriguingly <a href="http://benarcherbooks.blogspot.com/2013/03/of-horses-books-radios-tablets-and.html" target="_blank">related books to horses</a>. 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.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvg6EhYl-Ooq6TyvO8mMKc0Tku6kpBwyUcSUvxA8QjCpWgBK8jJ1DFGVrfIArgZ2fW0VifzcnxUcogRyh7_N1lXt-2SwIIbtZugSwHuYG1tvEuyFxOnqJ3JCM0sE0Kr8H4myu3VY5024y/s1600/AVBinWinter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvg6EhYl-Ooq6TyvO8mMKc0Tku6kpBwyUcSUvxA8QjCpWgBK8jJ1DFGVrfIArgZ2fW0VifzcnxUcogRyh7_N1lXt-2SwIIbtZugSwHuYG1tvEuyFxOnqJ3JCM0sE0Kr8H4myu3VY5024y/s1600/AVBinWinter.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">Apple Valley Books in Winthrop Maine</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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. </span>In the meantime, get off this computer thing, and go play, write, cook, read, be with your loved ones, eh? Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-38702384972567152492013-01-29T08:11:00.001-08:002013-02-05T07:05:58.731-08:00Men and Wood<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>Half your wood, and half your hay...</b></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbrGUCmhlbB1M1p7HxjbIY-7ZmweZEwpxDmOJGrh3ofxCkF71ph9ObvGGe8b7oMlsWqrXiHD4wV_s5o28Zloi2rEDZlSpN2SmRkanzyR_5SLrh8-l4TUCYajZIP3BMdOXiPW3_hl70FEH/s1600/shed4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbrGUCmhlbB1M1p7HxjbIY-7ZmweZEwpxDmOJGrh3ofxCkF71ph9ObvGGe8b7oMlsWqrXiHD4wV_s5o28Zloi2rEDZlSpN2SmRkanzyR_5SLrh8-l4TUCYajZIP3BMdOXiPW3_hl70FEH/s1600/shed4.jpg" height="400" width="378" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>An ironwood sprig on the woodshed when it was new.</b></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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. </span>Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-10742331092768995052013-01-11T09:31:00.001-08:002013-02-05T07:12:19.270-08:00Guns by a Gun Guy<div style="text-align: right;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioU2Uy6b4EbnzQ6yCFsqOuWyLSMG-_251ITtZtdrEIVM1YDPuJQTszjLMiKHosh_OC4-hqXT3wB-4JLUCLH8gDzT7EpYCaFBIXjLo1d1YEKGqueG4uTexeJL5Vs_Gsau3hRCHcNik7sDzq/s1600/peace+through+firepower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioU2Uy6b4EbnzQ6yCFsqOuWyLSMG-_251ITtZtdrEIVM1YDPuJQTszjLMiKHosh_OC4-hqXT3wB-4JLUCLH8gDzT7EpYCaFBIXjLo1d1YEKGqueG4uTexeJL5Vs_Gsau3hRCHcNik7sDzq/s1600/peace+through+firepower.jpg" height="234" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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. </span><br />
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<br />Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-31741114850119000672013-01-10T11:51:00.000-08:002013-01-29T07:12:43.628-08:00Saurkraut at Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">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! </span>C: We both really love sauerkraut. D: you save money making stuff like this from scratch!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7oHmrm1bxQRdz1rI_H2NRh3o3vd2wp95sH74HELQTplv0coAu9On3bkCSvsPfzonQP9ZeszrQdI8IaY5-YNEbVbnhNZXg9_3TwO5CWlas-HIrs-0S0NlMhpQY2FYe22qV5fh91kHxIkL/s1600/IMG_2680.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7oHmrm1bxQRdz1rI_H2NRh3o3vd2wp95sH74HELQTplv0coAu9On3bkCSvsPfzonQP9ZeszrQdI8IaY5-YNEbVbnhNZXg9_3TwO5CWlas-HIrs-0S0NlMhpQY2FYe22qV5fh91kHxIkL/s1600/IMG_2680.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Okay, so what we did was thinly slice a head of cabbage, <span style="color: #274e13;"><b>two</b></span> 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.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Sauerkraut in process!</span></span></b></td></tr>
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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. <br />
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One link we like for this is <a href="http://www.nourishingdays.com/2012/11/open-crock-sauerkraut/" target="_blank">Nourishing Days</a>, 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...<br />
<br />Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-61892502109103538042013-01-04T09:26:00.001-08:002013-01-04T09:50:11.198-08:00Ironwood Coasters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">Pentacryl wood stabilizer</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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...</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Gifts from Ironwood Hollow!</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We had seen a product advertized that claims to stabilize wood so it wont split as it dries, called <a href="http://www.preservation-solutions.com/pentacryl.php" target="_blank">Pentacryl</a>. 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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span>Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-76651505107397477792012-12-15T08:47:00.001-08:002012-12-15T08:47:02.296-08:00Maine Firewood Values in BTU<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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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.<br />
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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, <i>Huh. the heat doesn't leave the house other than up the chimney, whether it's vaporizing water in the wood or not</i>. 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.<br />
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To be clear, if you burn softwood, like dry pine or cedar, it <b>will</b> 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.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">There are</span> 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-52314797332025392482012-12-07T08:49:00.000-08:002012-12-07T08:49:30.006-08:00Ice Lanterns for Winter Beauty<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here in Maine we've been making ice lanterns whether we like it or not for as long as there have been buckets. I remember punching a hole in my horse's frozen water, and sliding the hollow ice shell out of the pail, back during the Carter administration. I think Dad was the first to put a candle inside the glittering shell of winter ice, at least in our little family enclave.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>Ice lantern with bittersweet, cedar, and rose hips.</b></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Since those days I have set many a frozen shell of water, formed inside a five-gallon honey-bucket, up on a snow-drift, lit a pillar candle inside it, and let it burn for nights on end. Why did I never think to freeze pretty greenery into it, though? Recently I saw an example of this, and it was such an obvious and lovely improvement that I just had to laugh at myself. And then go and try it!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here's how I used to do it: fill a five-gallon plastic bucket with cold water, and leave it outside for a full night of single-digit weather. Bring it inside, pour warm water over the bucket, slide out the frozen shape. The bottom will be much thinner. Punch a hole in it, pour out the still-liquid center, place it outside upside-down. Light a candle in it, and voila! A basic ice lantern! In cold weather it will last for a long time, and be beautiful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Now, some improvements to that basic lantern. I went out and cut some cedar sprigs, some bittersweet, and some rose-hips. You could use anything that is pretty, from pine-cones to dried flowers. Then I cut the top off of a 2-liter soda bottle, just below the sloped curve, so it made a large empty pillar. I found some rocks to fill it with. Using the same five-gallon bucket, I placed the rock-filled container in the bucket, filled the bucket around that with cold water, and some ice cubes to get it started, and arranged my pretty greenery around the soda bottle. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeLOUIW5u-M5tTdMaWvdkOne2A6TKODNOdiqz3BrzTCtAGF2ZYv3S2c_1ptrCtdx4Q_co6dpfu7w0CLjR9cIiaQyzugSlONwjViE2XyHQZpTONLTv3mKzqNrsNNfdQquYxEsk3dNVh2L95/s1600/IMG_2042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeLOUIW5u-M5tTdMaWvdkOne2A6TKODNOdiqz3BrzTCtAGF2ZYv3S2c_1ptrCtdx4Q_co6dpfu7w0CLjR9cIiaQyzugSlONwjViE2XyHQZpTONLTv3mKzqNrsNNfdQquYxEsk3dNVh2L95/s1600/IMG_2042.JPG" height="400" width="310" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">The candle lights the frozen greenery from within, winter magic!</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Leaving it outside overnight on a below-twenty-degrees night just barely did it. The ice was thin. You might need to take two nights like that, or wait until a single-digit night is forecast. I suggest placing the bucket on lawn furniture or wooden slats, anything to get it off the ground. Surprisingly, the ground will insulate the water from below. The next morning, all you need to do is free it from the bucket by running tapwater over the outside and sliding your lantern carefully out into the sink, letting the water in the middle escape down the drain. The following evening, place a tea-light, votive, or pillar candle inside, and you've got wintry gorgeousness! However you celebrate the coldest, darkest time of the year, an ice lantern sporting your local winter color can add a special magic...</span>Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-88567351523921516532012-11-28T09:55:00.003-08:002012-11-28T09:55:59.390-08:00One Last Wish<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX91Y8BFw6wwzXK_hnZyeTPDxE_3veGGEXCWM1F1MsiAQOzuGcQHz5mGEJak-UlyWbB-rrhi6Lkpvb9tImpTqfuDha8kfm1c9CjB3uc66mlmkAEQIxPQGNlfKkHE8_mOfFKSCqX3mz6LLe/s1600/OneLastWishPoem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Poem by Eric Robbins" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX91Y8BFw6wwzXK_hnZyeTPDxE_3veGGEXCWM1F1MsiAQOzuGcQHz5mGEJak-UlyWbB-rrhi6Lkpvb9tImpTqfuDha8kfm1c9CjB3uc66mlmkAEQIxPQGNlfKkHE8_mOfFKSCqX3mz6LLe/s1600/OneLastWishPoem.jpg" height="640" title="One Last Wish poem by Eric Robbins November 2012" width="595" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-42954790192932558292012-11-26T12:43:00.001-08:002012-11-26T12:45:21.010-08:00Satisfied<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Satisfied</span></b></h4>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Copyright Eric Robbins November 21 2012</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">By the sweat of my Father,<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>C<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Cmaj9<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Am<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And the tears of my mother,<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>C<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Cmaj9<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Am</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I got no call to be faulting the weather,<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span> <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>C<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Cmaj9<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Am</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I’m satisfied…<span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span>
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>G</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">See those leaves blowing one way,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And that crow flies another.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As long as the two of us are together, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I’m satisfied…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">(Chorus) How could I ask for more than I’ve got,<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>G<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>F<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>C<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>G<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When each day begins with you?<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>C<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>F<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>G</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I got my head up in the stars,<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>G<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>F<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>C<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>G</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My feet in the morning dew, and I’ve got you…<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>C<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>F<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>G<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>C</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The wind blows the world ‘round,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">From the treetops and the whitecaps,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But warmed by the fireplace and held in your arms</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I’m satisfied…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When I know that you’re coming home,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I’m waiting by the front steps.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We hold each other safe from any harm,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I’m satisfied…</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Got a roof to hold the snowfall,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Warm blankets for the frosty chill.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Together we don’t need to fear the deepest frost,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I’m satisfied…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Your heart is my compass rose,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">To guide me like the stars at night,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Steering ever homeward where once I wandered lost,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I’m satisfied…</span></div>
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Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-90463856109922789742012-11-24T10:31:00.000-08:002012-11-24T10:31:20.841-08:00The Season of Thankfulness<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="color: #073763;">Welcome to Ironwood Hollow</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We all have family stories that warm our hearts, that remind us of the very best part of our heritage. Here's one of mine. It's short, but I still can't tell it without choking up. My grandfather Arnold died suddenly of a heart attack when I was a young boy. He was a formal, intimidating man to us kids, and unfortunately we never got to know him better than that. Shortly after retiring, he and my Grammy Carrie had almost all of the family, kids, cousins, etc., to their beautiful cottage on the coast of Maine, and that's when he went. It was sudden, and the family has never gotten together again as completely as we did for his funeral that weekend. Her name was the last word he spoke.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A few years ago my mother told me that Grammy Carrie, who outlived him by many years, kept his bedroom slippers under the bed until her own passing. She never loved another. That kind of devotion makes my heart swell with hope for humankind. I just can't think of another way to say it. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfHjbvTFhyfveaw0H5L3EtFbfPRQwsxeIiI7kC7baWFHiugZsNAUmXZHCTWrlwD3OUOY_n39mdVG3uOw0-4lkvwmd7Y_rUapS4-epC53CWS0B98RIT5dRbxtA8V5wvqBzNOIEwM8EySfwu/s1600/IMG_1970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfHjbvTFhyfveaw0H5L3EtFbfPRQwsxeIiI7kC7baWFHiugZsNAUmXZHCTWrlwD3OUOY_n39mdVG3uOw0-4lkvwmd7Y_rUapS4-epC53CWS0B98RIT5dRbxtA8V5wvqBzNOIEwM8EySfwu/s1600/IMG_1970.JPG" height="326" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">Grammie's memory lives, and not just in the Fiestaware!</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">One of the ways Grammie Carrie lives on in our family is in our dishware, as odd as that sounds; I remember sitting at her old kitchen table when I visited them as a boy, having breakfast cereal in an original green fiesta bowl. She loved her collection of fiestaware. To this day I can't hold a green piece of fiesta without thinking of her, and a varied assortment of fiesta is what we use for everyday dishware, as well as for special occasions. That table, where Grampy used to keep his feet under the support bar so as to catch any of us kids, or our parents when they were little, who might used it as a footrest (against the rules), was laden with a feast on fiestaware for this Thanksgiving. This year our newly grown family sat around that same table, held hands, said grace, and carried the memory of my Grampy and Grammy</span> forward into a heartwarming, wonderful, new time of our lives.<br />
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The connection that struck me in that moment is that I finally understand the devotion that she had for him. Meeting my Honey's eyes at the far end of this table, with our newly blended family connecting us along the length of the big room, I realized that although times change, love is powerful and enduring. May we all find that one perfect other, the one whose slippers could never be taken out from under the bed. May our children and grandchildren learn from us that such a thing is possible. <br />
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<br />Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-91077874041456920122012-11-21T09:24:00.001-08:002012-11-21T09:24:17.655-08:00Perseverance<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Years ago, I went on a motorcycle trip with my very good friend Johnny Bongo. We were both fairly new to the biking world, maybe a couple of years of local riding under our belts. Part of my own preparation involved trading in my classic beemer for a newer one (still not a NEW one, just not as ancient) because I knew that my wrenching skills had some clear limitations. Both of us planned like crazy. We each packed emergency supplies, plenty of clothes, tire-repair kits, the whole deal. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">Barrier, schmarrier...</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Johnny had a new GPS system, and had worked out every turn of the road to get us where we were going. Believe me, we went to some beautiful parts of the country. A couple of days in, and here's where the photo makes sense, we were scheduled to find our campsite, tucked away in the flat landscape of Ohio. The roads there are laid out like graph paper lines across a virtually flat landscape, very strange to JB and I, who live in a wooded, hilly part of Maine, where no road goes more than half a mile without a needed turn. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So every few miles was a cross-road, and there were no side-roads, no back ways, no diagonals. Not long before dark, we came to a closed road barrier, just five miles from where we were trying to go. We knew that if we let it stop us it would mean going back, and all the way around one of those giant blocks of waving corn, several miles for each side of a square. We looked at the barriers, looked at the big backhoe parked right across both lanes, bucket to the tar, at the deep swales on each side of the road, looked at the sun going down. We were tired. We had sore asses and stiff backs. We wanted to be setting up our tents and warming up some soup. This unforeseen obstacle really sucked at that moment. Then we looked at each other, shrugged, and wordlessly agreed to just try it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Around the barriers we went, creeping in first gear, then very carefully, leaning the bikes to squeeze under the arm of the backhoe, over to the other side. Each bike took all of the strength of both of us to maneuver under that arm. One of us bent a rearview mount a little bit, I don't remember who. It might have been that the road was closed because it was totally impassible further along, but that wasn't the case. We felt like such rebels. The point is, though, that we didn't shrug and turn back. The road wasn't impassible. We didn't hurt anybody. And we got to where we were going, almost on time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Looking through old photos, I found this and realized that I had not thought of the obstacle, or of our perseverance, for years. In the moment, it felt like a big potential setback. I recall resorting to some choice Anglo-Saxon vocabulary for a minute or so. Now though, it is a distant memory. Much clearer in my mind is the gathering of new friends when we finally got to our destination, the evening around the campfire swapping riding stories.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here's another, briefer example. My Dad has taken me, my sister, all of his grandchildren, and many others, on a hike of Katahdin, Maine's most spectacular mountain, many times. It's not an easy hike. It's frankly exhausting, much more of an endeavor than most people expect when they first get up that morning and confidently strap on a backpack.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlging-U1U_CvVorY6mCIdCcf-aQCC76Q1oGchTz1hjMZgn2Itc09d6h2jMloQ3BMB742QMtC3yiHgNvtZfxtWpO0Td_mEsxh5bDk7TgA1cV-nhZIg8hxqLVOoXgabZcE5cs0X_O3_VzJL/s1600/DESCENDINGPAMOLANOTCHsm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlging-U1U_CvVorY6mCIdCcf-aQCC76Q1oGchTz1hjMZgn2Itc09d6h2jMloQ3BMB742QMtC3yiHgNvtZfxtWpO0Td_mEsxh5bDk7TgA1cV-nhZIg8hxqLVOoXgabZcE5cs0X_O3_VzJL/s1600/DESCENDINGPAMOLANOTCHsm.jpg" height="491" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Climbing Katahdin</span></span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">See how rugged the climb is in the photo? That's Dad on the left. My point is that if you look at the mountain ahead, it looks insurmountable. If you put one hand over another, watch your step, place your feet carefully, and keep your mind on the goal, you get there. Every single person who has attempted that climb among the many excursions that I've been on has finished it. They've seen Maine from its highest point. They've walked the famed Knife Edge Trail. They've seen Chimney Pond from on high, where it looks like a tiny jewel among toy trees. That's what they remember, not the tiredness, the sore knees, the scraped knuckles. They remember succeeding.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">That's my message today. Know where you want to go, and don't turn aside. Take the next step. Reach for the next handhold. Pause for a breath, but don't look back. Oh, and one more thing. This one is important. Take the right people with you on your journey.</span>Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-85205012884550717712012-11-15T10:22:00.000-08:002012-11-15T10:22:06.509-08:00Almost Thanksgiving<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMyMNfQg888g1qIPsWZmOMGkzOmh4LJhsefzk2g2nKYMPccfZJ0f2pqYID7i4gAVCYCsbkIqkV8TrssP-71mdrdFo3gD9fiUhp16ikSggKdIVGcmuR9kPnaR_36OdNFkIZtntTI5sFDVmA/s1600/IMG_0988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMyMNfQg888g1qIPsWZmOMGkzOmh4LJhsefzk2g2nKYMPccfZJ0f2pqYID7i4gAVCYCsbkIqkV8TrssP-71mdrdFo3gD9fiUhp16ikSggKdIVGcmuR9kPnaR_36OdNFkIZtntTI5sFDVmA/s1600/IMG_0988.JPG" height="400" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>This Thanksgiving I will truly count my blessings! </b></span></td></tr>
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Love songs by nature are about gratitude, and my latest is no exception. Coming up on Thanksgiving, I feel like a kid before Christmas. Much of my family will meet much of my Honey's family for the first time. I will be a puddle of emotion, there's no doubt, watching her make a banquet hall of our little castle in the woods, seeing our parents watching us both finally be arm in arm with the love that we have always needed, seeing generations come together under the roof of our sheltering home.<br />
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We are both keenly feeling the fortune of having our parents still with us, of watching the children move out into the world in their individual ways, of having brothers and sisters who support and love us, whose lives we support with our own love. With all of this swirling around in my heart, I've written another song, one that only scratches the surface of these emotions, but that's okay. It leaves space for more songs, next time I stay up late, lightly playing, while the love of my life, and the kids, sleep peacefully in the Hollow. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.<br />
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-Harper<br />
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<i>"Satisfied" copyright Eric Robbins November 10, 2012</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>By the sweat of my father, and the blood of my mother,</i><br />
<i>I've got no call to be faulting the weather, I'm satisfied...</i><br />
<i>I see the leaves blowing one way, and that crow flies another.</i><br />
<i>As long as we two are together, I'm satisfied...</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> How could I ask for more than I've got, </i><br />
<i> When each day begins with you?</i><br />
<i> Got my head all up among the stars,</i><br />
<i> And my feet in the morning dew, and I've got you!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The wind blows the world 'round, see the treetops and the whitecaps.</i><br />
<i>Warmed by the fireplace, and held in your arms, I'm satisfied...</i><br />
<i>When I know that you're coming home, I wait by those front steps.</i><br />
<i>I watch over you, and you keep back the storms, I'm satisfied...</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Got a roof to hold the snowfall, heavy blankets for that winter chill.</i><br />
<i>The two of us are safe against the deep December frost, I'm satisfied...</i><br />
<i>Your heart is my compass rose, to show the way like the stars at night,</i><br />
<i>Steering every homeward, though once I wandered lost, I'm satisfied...</i>Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-15711798210798056082012-11-08T09:38:00.000-08:002012-11-08T09:38:14.741-08:00Update from Ironwood Hollow<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It has been a good week here at Ironwood Hollow. The Vanilla Tupelo Honey Mead started a week ago has been bubbling away quietly in the pantry. We've talked with a couple of mead-students who are now accomplished meaders in their own right about some batches in progress and how to handle unforeseen issues (when in doubt, wait for it to get better). We've moved some things around so as to get to the mead in the cellar a little more easily, with an eye to finding just the right bottles for what promises to be an epic Thanksgiving. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We've had the first snow of any consequence since Honey and the kids have moved in, and we all watched a young buck browsing our blackberry bushes amidst the new white this morning before school. Everyone pitched in with the project of building a rack above our firewood in the woodshed, for all the reclaimed lumber that has been accumulating for future projects. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPcQwbYFswUX66iTSfRz6IRuDOvVkik25n_ZaNhPmOe68oMUAgt5LK5a_Tib3_Min6tJPK6aPjYZ7Fx8OAI7H1uR5W7OIddvlyJftG_5LHMOAN2Ydk61-GFMi9zQpfkwCjO7GlBU68yXSh/s1600/IMG_0665.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPcQwbYFswUX66iTSfRz6IRuDOvVkik25n_ZaNhPmOe68oMUAgt5LK5a_Tib3_Min6tJPK6aPjYZ7Fx8OAI7H1uR5W7OIddvlyJftG_5LHMOAN2Ydk61-GFMi9zQpfkwCjO7GlBU68yXSh/s1600/IMG_0665.jpg" height="411" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">The Mellow Hill Dome</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The kids have taken to country life in a beautiful way, and we're just getting started. The boys have done nearly all the work of sifting gravel for the driveway repairs and a greywater drainage area for wash-water. All of them help with the firewood. This morning we watched that buck nibbling in the yard before the kids made their own tracks right across his on their way to the school-bus pickup. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We have started to arrange our thanksgiving, first one together. I realized this morning that I will just be a puddle of emotion for that entire day, as Honey's family meets mine, we fill the 'Hollow with more love and kin than ever before, and these cordwood walls (and our arms) embrace the newly grown family that we are bringing together. Tears of joy make the best seasoning, and since I know what a big old heap of sentimentality I am, I think I'll let Honey do the talking while I carve the turkeys. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We just got our first delivery from <a href="http://www.facebook.com/CurriernChives" target="_blank">Currier and Chives</a>, a new local bakery CSA, and had home-made raisin bread toast for breakfast today! If there is a local farmer who sells any kind of shares in his product, that is such a great way to support the real local green economy. Ask at health-food stores and farmer's markets if there is anything like that around you; we have seafood, meat, vegetable, and bakery CSA's in our area, and support them as we can.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We're looking forward to a big building project next year, and have started pulling ideas together for that. Winter in Maine is long, and cozy evenings by the fire with graph paper and alternative building books will get us through. Watch for updates!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_IwL9ubTCA_vUG8z18U9-zxvogMxr44Zs73XkqM1m7trYLhyphenhyphenfHFEgs5J1WcpEfLL1Rwz6SQfVK5Hcp9195tGOZSjGfepbO_GHDn_B8SnXk-VRgpxt54HMDXFOqdHbrSvvjlV2SlgEfBPu/s1600/shop.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_IwL9ubTCA_vUG8z18U9-zxvogMxr44Zs73XkqM1m7trYLhyphenhyphenfHFEgs5J1WcpEfLL1Rwz6SQfVK5Hcp9195tGOZSjGfepbO_GHDn_B8SnXk-VRgpxt54HMDXFOqdHbrSvvjlV2SlgEfBPu/s1600/shop.JPG" height="257" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>Filling Dad's woodshed.</b></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">About the kids and wood...my Dad, right next door in the Mellow Hill Dome, needed help this year with his firewood for the first time ever. He had it all cut ahead and seasoned in the old shed down by the barn, but needed to have three cords of wood moved up to the shed next to the house and workshop. In two easy afternoons the kids pitched in, and we scurried back and forth like an ant colony with wheelbarrows, until he had everything just the way he needs it for the winter. I was so proud of them...I haven't smiled that much through hard work in my whole life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So that's life at Ironwood Hollow this week. Family, wildlife, projects, hopes, dreams, blessings, trials, love, life, beauty, and yet more blessings. May your life be as full, and may you be as aware of that fullness as we are!</span><br />
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<br />Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-76360565943646697132012-11-02T12:42:00.000-07:002012-11-02T12:42:18.421-07:00Make Mead part 3<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithwJfiM-EyM4V6pXCTZOkrNvRLR5WHmKLPM9anwE2FZlN5A2Ka_eCgGaJ9fCe4KbzFcUuIAXDDTmx6qezuCGO4SVAA2A_ffLLlg5fA9Zs2UrbozzQo-B5WvWt0HjBbfRwILJPOPofkCja/s1600/Blot+Label.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithwJfiM-EyM4V6pXCTZOkrNvRLR5WHmKLPM9anwE2FZlN5A2Ka_eCgGaJ9fCe4KbzFcUuIAXDDTmx6qezuCGO4SVAA2A_ffLLlg5fA9Zs2UrbozzQo-B5WvWt0HjBbfRwILJPOPofkCja/s1600/Blot+Label.jpg" height="400" width="237" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">Mead Label sample, front and back</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">By now you'll have read parts one and two, and I hope started a batch of your own mead. If not, maybe you're collecting tools and ingredients, and will begin soon? The sooner you begin, the sooner you can have that well-stocked mead-cellar you've always dreamed about...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I've heard meaders describe many ways of dealing with the end of fermentation, settling, bottling, etc. A lot of those ways will work, so don't worry if you hear conflicting advice. I'm just going to describe how I do it, a method worked out for small-batch brewing through over a hundred batches during the last twenty-five years.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When you add fruit, spices, leaves, or any other solids to your mead, you have the option of removing what's left of the solids partway through the process, or leaving it all in until you pour it off. Some people add flavorings, particularly extracts and spices, after the fermentation is all finished. What I like to do is take out most of the solids, pretty much anything that's still floating, after three or four weeks. Then I close it back up, bubbler and all, and wait, without opening it again, until it's completely finished bubbling, usually at least another three or four weeks. This varies a lot, so don't worry if it's slower, as long as it's bubbling.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOna_7Z4JH4WRdP73RNJ6i7NKfGgj96AkiWlK2ivh0FiAzcqR6EdsZJ9BJL9VG57ddGnJrT-P-YqsQsi0ShSaK_YU4aHPC2oRlruIhiTx4GpaAerPqsABi3TxcVxWhayCG000F3s_I1vEp/s1600/IMG_1868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOna_7Z4JH4WRdP73RNJ6i7NKfGgj96AkiWlK2ivh0FiAzcqR6EdsZJ9BJL9VG57ddGnJrT-P-YqsQsi0ShSaK_YU4aHPC2oRlruIhiTx4GpaAerPqsABi3TxcVxWhayCG000F3s_I1vEp/s1600/IMG_1868.JPG" height="216" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Bottled and ready for corks, Photo by Honey</span></span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When it's all done, it's usually cloudy with a couple of inches of sediment, made up mostly of dead yeast cells. I use a siphon hose, and carefully transfer the liquid into glass jugs, one-gallon wine bottles or something similar. I loosen the lids momentarily every day after that until there is no hiss from pressure-release, then I leave them alone in a cool, dark room to settle out. Depending on your recipe, this can take a <br />couple of weeks or a couple of months. Fair warning, some meads never really settle out. You can get additives to help with this, but I prefer to drink it as is, on the rare occasions that this happens.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvXnLIiNC_O0t-rLbKlYK8QnNsKBnyLmlg7MgsbYY_Ik1UkHtMZ3BFT50f81O6KGiw47gvgJs5P7jQU9oUweLVHHDPohWbPgsGrqk4w9uGduAYvs7FwWwId9YClbyr6yV1McgePzbDJ-V/s1600/IMG_1874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvXnLIiNC_O0t-rLbKlYK8QnNsKBnyLmlg7MgsbYY_Ik1UkHtMZ3BFT50f81O6KGiw47gvgJs5P7jQU9oUweLVHHDPohWbPgsGrqk4w9uGduAYvs7FwWwId9YClbyr6yV1McgePzbDJ-V/s1600/IMG_1874.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">Simple corker. Photo by Honey.</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When you are ready to bottle your mead, line up enough wine bottles, use a funnel, and fill each bottle to the base of the neck, tipping the jug carefully so as not to stir up the sediment. fill bottles carefully until you start to pour sediment along with the mead, then set that jug aside and move on to the next. When all of the jugs are empty except for a bit of cloudy mead with sediment, pour them all together into one jug, and save it. It's not waste, honest! I'll come back to that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Standard wine bottles take a "#8" cork, but a #9 will fit, just much more tightly. Of all the cork-setters out there, I prefer the simplest, which is hand-held, a plastic plunger through a guide that you just balance on top of the bottle, which is best braced on the floor between your shins. Soak the corks in warm water for at least five minutes, and they will work better.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQlakgNBiG91R2a9HHXJ8k_vmyBuH4k0phgm_By8RK3XjCoTlA0a29AmEMCfuNThzIwEl1yuNPoStiSG8TU16JJML-QYhZuMSOoFwsHM4smQbL8qqgz82miJ2LLpjSbk6ho7jk5ru_vk2h/s1600/CORKING.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQlakgNBiG91R2a9HHXJ8k_vmyBuH4k0phgm_By8RK3XjCoTlA0a29AmEMCfuNThzIwEl1yuNPoStiSG8TU16JJML-QYhZuMSOoFwsHM4smQbL8qqgz82miJ2LLpjSbk6ho7jk5ru_vk2h/s1600/CORKING.jpg" height="400" width="268" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Corking is this easy! Photo by Honey.</span></span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Making labels is fun, now that you can get full-sheet sticker paper, and color printing is affordable. I usually use a painting or photo that I like, add text over that, sometimes in a framed space, and fit six or eight labels to a sheet. Remember that the bottles should be stored in a cool, dark place, on their sides, and that ten-year-old mead should be re-corked if you want to keep it safely for even longer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Back to that jug of mostly sediment. Hang onto that, and when you bottle your next batch, add the clear top part of that jug to the sediment and cloudy part of the second batch. Same thing with your third batch, and after a while you'll have a big jug of Plonk, which is what we call the blend of settled-out dregs from several batches. It makes a fine table mead, or cooking mead. My Plonk label usually says something like, "A fine artisanal blend of meads, expertly concocted in our sink just last Tuesday."</span> Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657077311605660794.post-81695903386778542702012-10-28T12:19:00.000-07:002013-04-02T07:50:12.447-07:00Make Mead part 2<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFd2fOtYCioUttuX_24lUhUa5qEdYqlG6NzkBtXQJ3QceAcpr4YzNv3AB4y-HKp9X9SyYPjhPLf4-up0iJ3rYflf9iWZz3Es6qbN2L25RtBA2wAr-TucpkpsDz03KaZFWQDlXoPhyphenhyphenfKpIM/s1600/IMG_1795+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFd2fOtYCioUttuX_24lUhUa5qEdYqlG6NzkBtXQJ3QceAcpr4YzNv3AB4y-HKp9X9SyYPjhPLf4-up0iJ3rYflf9iWZz3Es6qbN2L25RtBA2wAr-TucpkpsDz03KaZFWQDlXoPhyphenhyphenfKpIM/s1600/IMG_1795+(2).jpg" height="320" width="305" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Mead Rule: 1 tea, 2 oranges per gallon</span>.</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In the previous post, we told you everything you need to know to get started making mead. Now we'll fill in some blanks, so you will understand more of what you're doing, and so you can adapt that recipe to your own tastes and style. First, about honey...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Honey is simply amazing, for many reasons. The amount of work and flight miles that bees put into every ounce is staggering. It can't spoil, all that happens is it hardens, and can be warmed to soften again. <b>Local</b> honey is considered by many to provide nearly magical healing and health-supporting benefits, partly because of the sampling of local pollen that is included. For the recipe we gave, we used Tupelo honey, just because we really wanted to try it, but usually we use our own locally harvested unpasteurized wildflower or clover honey. We encourage you to find your nearest apiaries and buy directly from them. You'll be getting local honey which will be a health boost for you, you'll be saving money over supermarket prices, and you'll be supporting an important local farmer.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Add yeast when it's cool enough!</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As far as yeast goes, we use RedStar yeast, which is a dry wine yeast, costing pennies per packet, available at many home-brewing shops and health-food stores. RedStar makes several varieties, and we have gotten good results from the Cote des Blancs, or the Montrachet. There are many other options, just make sure not to use beer yeast or baker's yeast. Those will not be vigorous at the higher alcohol levels that you will need them for. We use one packet of dry yeast for up to three gallons, and two for up to six, the most that will fit in any of our carboys or buckets.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Wine yeast is most happy if you feed it grape juice. Since we're feeding it honey instead, we need to round out the nutrition in the must by adding a couple of things. You can buy yeast nutrients, but we like to use all natural ingredients instead. Since the two main nutrients that are missing from the yeast's diet are citric acid and tannic acid, we add citrus fruit juice and strongly steeped black tea. Our <b>Rule of Thumb</b> is this: for each gallon of must, add one teabag and two oranges. It really is as simple as that, and after you feel confident enough, you can certainly experiment. I have used oak bark for the tannic acid (it being locally grown), and strawberries, rose-hips, spruce tips, for the citric acid for the same reason, and you may want to use your own local alternatives.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8OHHe0mnf5PkNOTxCfWbFaBwNilwkNaP6qW0uWzW6dGCQ-txl9jOjmhJe48du1CQS6-H0Nm15uPZ9KfDAR0pS8ssl7gaY94ewvEuMVkYd4ig9C6qJyXc_PXxfCpOvSgDAsV9l719TflZ4/s1600/IMG_1813+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8OHHe0mnf5PkNOTxCfWbFaBwNilwkNaP6qW0uWzW6dGCQ-txl9jOjmhJe48du1CQS6-H0Nm15uPZ9KfDAR0pS8ssl7gaY94ewvEuMVkYd4ig9C6qJyXc_PXxfCpOvSgDAsV9l719TflZ4/s1600/IMG_1813+(2).jpg" height="224" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The yeast will be added when you have everything stirred together, at the desired sweetness, and cooler than the mid-nineties fahrenheit. You'll keep it sealed up with a way for the gases to escape. Over several weeks, it will convert sugar and those acids to alcohol and carbon dioxide, which will be your signal about its activity. When no more bubbles occur, it's done. Just don't let the water evaporate from the bubbler. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Some people use sulfites to stop the yeast activity. We believe that sulfites are unhealthy and prefer to let the yeast takes its natural course. The yeast will die off naturally when the alcohol is somewhere in the upper teens, +/- 17% alcohol. Then you pour it off into jugs to settle out, and bottle it when it's clear.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujSYCqAcou2rQbC6QcqffbokaVTOGpL-k1qMaQRXKgPsTvBms4bKJthcuKm9hwdd_pfvzBeaRI7nDwY2Ng3sglBUaql9L-i5Y93dGliS8ONLI2r82mhfF4wtwq7OsO2tK1FqsX2hbA8GC/s1600/hydrometer+wine.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujSYCqAcou2rQbC6QcqffbokaVTOGpL-k1qMaQRXKgPsTvBms4bKJthcuKm9hwdd_pfvzBeaRI7nDwY2Ng3sglBUaql9L-i5Y93dGliS8ONLI2r82mhfF4wtwq7OsO2tK1FqsX2hbA8GC/s1600/hydrometer+wine.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Reading a hydrometer for mead</span></span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You use the hydrometer to measure your mead's alcohol content. To do this you need to take two readings with it, one before you add the yeast, and one when the fermenting is all finished. There are several scales drawn on the paper inside the glass, all running vertically. You only need to read the scale that says "Potential Alcohol." To do this accurately, half-fill your column with mead that has been cooled to sixty degrees, and drop the hydrometer in. Read where the surface level comes to on the scale. That's all there is to it. Save that number, measure again when fermenting is all done, and compare the two numbers; the difference between them is your alcohol content!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Example: at the
beginning, our batch measured 18.2. When it is all done, let's say it
measures 2.5, that means there's a bit of honey left unused, so it's a
little sweet. 18.2 minus 2.5 equals 15.7, which is the alcohol level, a
bit stronger than table wine. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS7kkjHxMKlSukjczrMIT3Qzk78CtS3g1N0kqI8XqdBOeyOqgIqzW5GC3DAxrlybasrs0pIE-XQmkB84UcuSmziBZ850_Y41iPhVL0kBA3PgUbTDd4o8FT0nbPlGE5u7yaenm50Yw03Trk/s1600/IMG_1817+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS7kkjHxMKlSukjczrMIT3Qzk78CtS3g1N0kqI8XqdBOeyOqgIqzW5GC3DAxrlybasrs0pIE-XQmkB84UcuSmziBZ850_Y41iPhVL0kBA3PgUbTDd4o8FT0nbPlGE5u7yaenm50Yw03Trk/s1600/IMG_1817+(2).jpg" height="320" width="123" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Hydrometer's easy.</span></span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I like to start my mead with a potential alcohol of 17 or 18 percent. Before adding the yeast, I adjust the mix by adding water or honey so as to make it heavier or lighter, until it measures at the number that I want. If I put together everything, measure it, and it says it has a potential of 20 percent, then I add water a pint at a time because it's sweeter than I want. When I get it to measure 17 or 18 percent, that's when I stop, write it down for future reference, and get on with add the yeast and getting it into the fermenting container. After you have some experience, and know better how dry or sweet you like your mead, you will have your own preferred starting point. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">What can we add to mead? Take chances!</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">What can you add to mead for flavoring? Basically, fruits, berries, and spices, all just depending on your taste. Some of my favorites have been apple (with apple pie spices), raspberry, chinese-5-spice, licorice, spiced date, pear, and blueberry. Thinking further outside the box, I've made very nice spruce tip mead, young oak leaf mead, sumac mead, maple sap mead, and then there are the braggots, which are mead that include malted barley or malt extract. Don't be shy about this, just be careful to avoid ingredients with preservatives (yeast is alive, remember), and to be aware of how much sugar is in what you're adding. Good luck, and happy meading! I'll post a part three about racking, jugging, bottling, corking, labeling, at least the way we do it here.</span>Ironwood Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12411623934349077711noreply@blogger.com1