tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59251142953617901782024-02-18T18:07:26.601-08:00Elastic MomStretching your resources can be funCathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.comBlogger131125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-42860447915829085112024-01-30T01:57:00.000-08:002024-01-30T01:57:44.828-08:00Well, hello there. <p> Plenty has changed in my life. Two years ago we left the Free State and are now living on a mountainside in the Cape. We are closer to our grown up children, first grandchild and most of our family. </p><p>This morning I awoke before dawn to the fragrance of the fynbos drifting on the moist air through the wide open bedroom windows. Last night's showers have washed away the lingering smell of distant summer fires that have been ravaging the Cape. </p><p>As the fragrance awakened me, it was an invitation to come away and walk with my Lord on this beautiful mountainside. Sunbirds and sugarbirds dipped between the protea foliage. Raindrops glistened on grasses. My heart soared with joy. I could not help singing as I went. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1axI4C4iJNZiuiz6Q4twu0-SudSoEHous63KWYy4KwfmsneDC75NhFlu2mCNGjejJmZF0aLk2sC2cUcjDRJSzIL9AIalVEmBrg7d8gRxVpSYO6e2ynj-wBHXEHYCRpQAaRIlobVsWVI7uARIM9BOCVmEbyESA4PkDmhgYYiYjDLCfwxbLbCkpHrCz_pk/s4032/IMG_2074.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1axI4C4iJNZiuiz6Q4twu0-SudSoEHous63KWYy4KwfmsneDC75NhFlu2mCNGjejJmZF0aLk2sC2cUcjDRJSzIL9AIalVEmBrg7d8gRxVpSYO6e2ynj-wBHXEHYCRpQAaRIlobVsWVI7uARIM9BOCVmEbyESA4PkDmhgYYiYjDLCfwxbLbCkpHrCz_pk/w640-h480/IMG_2074.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Arise, my love, my fair one.</p><p style="text-align: center;">And come away to climb the rocky steps of the hillside.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> Song of Solomon 2:13 (Amp)</p>Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-77646836087413981222020-01-04T05:02:00.001-08:002020-01-04T05:02:55.773-08:00No Spend YearAfter mulling it over, I have made up my mind to attempt a No Spend Year. The idea popped up on my Instagram feed (thanks Yarnder Woman). This led me to reading a sample of <i>the year of less </i>by Cait Flanders. She originated the idea. The concept gelled with me.<br />
<br />
I would love to purchase the whole book, and it is a click of the button on my Kindle to do so, but that would defeat the purpose of the exercise. I have more books waiting to be read than I could read in a year, both hard copy and digital.<br />
<br />
The idea is to stop all spending except on groceries, toiletries, cleaning supplies and petrol and basically use what you have for the rest. Obviously medical expenses will be covered and other essentials, but not clothing, shoes, decor, books, entertainment and hobbies etc. Use what you have, which is my motto already. So far I haven't been shopping yet this year and, after a bit of post New Year cleaning and sorting, have been belatedly motivated to clear out the old. When I say clear out, if often means use up rather than discard. This concept appeals to me. Waste in any form is disagreeable. My goal is to shop in the pantry, garden and freezer before adding anything to my grocery list. I recognise and appreciate that I am privileged to be able to do this and there are so many people that consider even this a luxury.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I had leftover veggie tart for breakfast. Lunch for four was a tuna salad made from a can my sister left here over the holiday, pickled cucumber, that needs using, along with chopped roast veggies and mayonnaise. It was tasty on slices from the end of the loaf Decadent Dad baked the day before. We were invited out for dinner so I took along a bottle of champagne we already had and some fresh vegetables from the garden as a hostess gift for my vegetarian friend.<br />
<br />
Even though I will buy groceries, I really do want to use up what we have. This morning I cleared the last of the leftover croissants out the freezer for breakfast with jams and homemade cheese. That marks the end of the block of cheese. It was homemade and tasty. I have about 5 or 6 rock hard, mature goudas in the fridge that I plan to grate finely to turn into our very own <i>Farmesan</i>. This will have to suffice in the cheese department until it is all used up which could take months.<br />
<br />
On a mission, I baked three loaves of a fragrant bread, adapting a health loaf recipe, tossing in what I had in the storage jars on the kitchen counter. It included some chickpea flour that I never get around to, sunflower seeds, my zataar spice mix, a bit of the farmesan for extra protein and the usual mix of brown and white flour and yeast. We will eat them later with egg mayonnaise and the last of the cucumber pickle from the jar. I usually try to plan my meals around what needs using the most in the fridge.<br />
<br />
The bread took a while to bake so we had some orange, almond and chocolate cake for a late tea. I had traded with a friend, two cakes for some of my soap, for my son's 21st birthday in November but only one was eaten so I froze the other. It defrosted beautifully and we are loving it.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOYr7qN8hPKJBE9Dp_137vjQqZaLsysRk4dp8Vifh96i8OPs8KZgOlOtmJAHcPX5HFX5CTPmsov1PyjLUnsc7EoXftyOmSXaZ3EjVXjh2OwluLAtaMl2gvtTd4AA89KDsw3hll7mXmv5A/s1600/0005AC41-FCAB-4E41-99CB-46D9E6DA01BE.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOYr7qN8hPKJBE9Dp_137vjQqZaLsysRk4dp8Vifh96i8OPs8KZgOlOtmJAHcPX5HFX5CTPmsov1PyjLUnsc7EoXftyOmSXaZ3EjVXjh2OwluLAtaMl2gvtTd4AA89KDsw3hll7mXmv5A/s640/0005AC41-FCAB-4E41-99CB-46D9E6DA01BE.jpeg" width="480" /></a><br />
<br />
Tonight my son is having friends over for a movie night. We will grill two packs of sausages that were given to us and I will make a potato salad using dug up potatoes, serve more of the never-ending pickles and make a just pulled carrot and needs-using cauliflower salad as a type of coleslaw. I figure cauliflower will work instead of the usual cabbage. I can pick beets and made a beet and horseradish salad. That horseradish has been hanging around in the fridge for a while. Then there is the last bottle of last summer's apricot preserve which will be lovely with that box of custard my sister left here. We also have homemade cordial for drinks. Dinner sorted.<br />
<br />
I don't expect Decadent Dad to play along with the No Spend idea. In fact I am not even sure he needs to know about it. He will do his usual thing and I will do mine and we will find a happy balance between us. He always treats me to Special Night on a Friday where he cooks dinner that he shops for, and he certainly isn't as decadent as he used to be.<br />
<br />
So wish me well. I hope I will keep to my resolve.<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirP9VJ6jM6VxIK7XxmOjPusdyV9Tahf-GHOkfX36hFQv8wYkOX-afjqHX1nHrVgDnGMQPZwTBmsAnfK6kVvmQySTz6Gdf94oduZtthtK72Umkhphzt8VSYt8bSBh7HKA7ri0u1Nc-lfnY/s1600/DA9705CD-A01B-43D9-8F17-E669F7C78BFF.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirP9VJ6jM6VxIK7XxmOjPusdyV9Tahf-GHOkfX36hFQv8wYkOX-afjqHX1nHrVgDnGMQPZwTBmsAnfK6kVvmQySTz6Gdf94oduZtthtK72Umkhphzt8VSYt8bSBh7HKA7ri0u1Nc-lfnY/s640/DA9705CD-A01B-43D9-8F17-E669F7C78BFF.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-65269260583510520912020-01-01T00:17:00.001-08:002020-01-01T00:24:10.856-08:00A New Day DawningNew Year brings with it a chance to begin again. I love mornings, Mondays, birthdays, changing seasons and New Years Day. Today has to be my favourite day of the year. It is a day of hope. There are no external expectations placed on me regarding work, decor, food, gifts or traditions. My only goal today is to rest after a late night at the annual farm barn dance. My family will be taking it easy. There will be music playing in the house. There is always music.<br />
<br />
My day is open before me with many options and yet the freedom to do nothing.<br />
<br />
I have missed writing. Right now I choose this.<br />
<br />
Bananas go soft before we finish the bunch. Baking them into banana bread is a tasty, yet time consuming, option. It is faster to just unzip them and pop them in the freezer. Then on lazy mornings, like today, we whizz up a few with milk, peanut butter and a dash of honey for a breakfast smoothie. Our sad honey jar had nothing to offer. A delightful alternative was a bit of leftover vegan coconut ice-cream.<br />
<br />
The days after Christmas and around New Year, being conducive to purging and new beginnings, have awakened my desire to clear out, clean up, and organise my thoughts, routines, home and life. Hence the banana smoothie. Frozen bananas lurking in the freezer are conquered. <br />
<br />
The chickens gave an offering of four eggs at sunrise. The absence of bread for toast to accompany eggs, combined with no inclination to make a trip to town or to bake bread over the past week may also have contributed to our liquid nourishment. Yesterday we decluttered six croissant out the freezer and ate them with various jams for the same reason. Sometimes the things we purge can still spark joy.<br />
<br />
Firefoot, our living lawn mower, shadowed me into the chicken run, hoping to eat the hen's grain. Then he sniffed into the dogs' bowls in the hope of some dog pellets. When I got around to giving him his own food he stuck his hoof into the bucket and tipped it upside down. The chickens were delighted. I topped up the bucket. Every time he sees me he nickers a greeting. He follows me too, breathing softly behind my back when I stop to fill his water bucket. Yesterday he tried to taste my braid. We have a swarm of bees living in our roof. Regular attempts to evict them have failed and they aggressively defend their home against lawn mowers and sweaty people pushing said mowers. Firefoot does almost as good a job at trimming the lawn apart from the weeds which now stand out as defiant flags. He also conveniently fertilises the lawn as he mows.<br />
<br />
This new morning, day, month, year and decade has brought a few concerns over broken vehicles, looming university fees and a pessimistic budget which have contributed to my heart skipping a beat or two recently, all the more reason to have a slow day. Lavender tea, sipped quietly in my chair was a good way to start today. I do have hope and I know God will provide, he always does.<br />
<br />
Herbal teas, picked from the garden are a gentle therapy that I love to use along with prayer, journalling and soothing fibre crafts. I hope to spin a little today. There is a challenge for January to spin for 15 minutes a day, but I have enough real challenges without imposing artificial pressure on myself. Maybe today I will spin. Maybe I will just sort and tidy my spindles and fibre and pretty up the entrance to our home where they live in baskets. The dust bunnies have bred indiscriminately and have overpopulated in every corner.<br />
<br />
First, I will take a nap.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJS9vX-HqjM6W-3uey9fkKVB74ew_Az6YjVoRbqq5GH4vDAilYSdde-hZsBnPngHi6v952YIZCRwAAceubWasXj1M6KdyUhwGlNWT11uxWY5zIpH45bwaH8uceJSeZM_fpj2_Wmyz4e0s/s1600/IMG_E9253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJS9vX-HqjM6W-3uey9fkKVB74ew_Az6YjVoRbqq5GH4vDAilYSdde-hZsBnPngHi6v952YIZCRwAAceubWasXj1M6KdyUhwGlNWT11uxWY5zIpH45bwaH8uceJSeZM_fpj2_Wmyz4e0s/s640/IMG_E9253.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-63457815786524437022018-04-11T12:06:00.002-07:002018-04-11T12:06:43.908-07:00Farm Skills - a post written last year and then never published<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjF31P-uteWzDV-KQpRxfp2MNkDBak1AbTVVQBIFNIwNRaO7TJSyRL6jH0OR3kddEhI4dvidJi6rhVOgPC6Rxi7I1dcMMmS0DDCBKc3pfUynZCL58zhUPrrjkxJFbGhgomzngi4PC3fs/s1600/IMG_5659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjF31P-uteWzDV-KQpRxfp2MNkDBak1AbTVVQBIFNIwNRaO7TJSyRL6jH0OR3kddEhI4dvidJi6rhVOgPC6Rxi7I1dcMMmS0DDCBKc3pfUynZCL58zhUPrrjkxJFbGhgomzngi4PC3fs/s200/IMG_5659.JPG" width="200" /></a>We never set out to live as we do. It just happened. Each day presents its own opportunities for discovery and experience, exploration and adventure. Some we grasp eagerly and others slip by unnoticed.<br />
<br />
Today my family is immersed in the music and lyrics of Sweeney Todd, a musical we saw when on holiday in Cape Town. The songs are playing, full volume, while dinner preparation is underway.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I hand spun dog hair on the spindle that Decadent Dad turned on the lathe a while back. I spun it on a whim, just to see if I could. The Siberian Husky hair makes a delightfully soft yarn.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQ0aw1wSPW81xOxorKh7ROxWZ_MJoF3_1j7h9Lra1gGlaohSgsg1m6JX_7OeE0oHHKSOPWtVvU2d1Udxnq3IufQEAkehQ8gmYDljjZ_pyr_4RdoUxquF8yZvq2SBUGHxNa6Hy-LhKrds/s1600/IMG_5071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQ0aw1wSPW81xOxorKh7ROxWZ_MJoF3_1j7h9Lra1gGlaohSgsg1m6JX_7OeE0oHHKSOPWtVvU2d1Udxnq3IufQEAkehQ8gmYDljjZ_pyr_4RdoUxquF8yZvq2SBUGHxNa6Hy-LhKrds/s200/IMG_5071.JPG" width="160" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Since living on this farm in the Free State I have learned to:</b><br />
<br />
make yoghurt, butter, cheese, and to milk a cow<br />
<br />
ride a horse<br />
<br />
raise heirloom vegetables from seed<br />
<br />
grow enough vegetables to feed my family for a year<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbWDR0oOa3oMcQCr86QmDqfnWkjfN7LcahyphenhyphenNOtflKr1yRNXlFOvCvJtyfK0AjyFAETcCMsjZNzHJqbgRFOpjr4AuQjbquwNiGNURWmrGOgZ4IRQpp9KhX-nRegh_foDtPIXWBcB754TwU/s1600/fullsizeoutput_8706.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbWDR0oOa3oMcQCr86QmDqfnWkjfN7LcahyphenhyphenNOtflKr1yRNXlFOvCvJtyfK0AjyFAETcCMsjZNzHJqbgRFOpjr4AuQjbquwNiGNURWmrGOgZ4IRQpp9KhX-nRegh_foDtPIXWBcB754TwU/s200/fullsizeoutput_8706.jpeg" width="175" /></a>crochet well enough to make blankets for my children<br />
<br />
raise orphan lambs<br />
<br />
spin my hand-raised sheep, Lucy's wool<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiGpohN2Xo72fiqHVF5pzuQGlhs5WawES5cSqHSgfgOEc0E2PZvTbXhKcN7YMrjR3GPirSgTWqdUaJUtseX21dGALjGiXjCMnkMmGI2z4T0KtFyHj5eVK99Y-RXhy0r9sxX_Pw_sl-j3c/s1600/fullsizeoutput_8705.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiGpohN2Xo72fiqHVF5pzuQGlhs5WawES5cSqHSgfgOEc0E2PZvTbXhKcN7YMrjR3GPirSgTWqdUaJUtseX21dGALjGiXjCMnkMmGI2z4T0KtFyHj5eVK99Y-RXhy0r9sxX_Pw_sl-j3c/s200/fullsizeoutput_8705.jpeg" width="150" /></a><br />
spin alpaca fibre into luxurious yarn<br />
<br />
quilt with the help of a delightful quilt group<br />
<br />
raise chickens, calves, pigs and sheep<br />
<br />
help a cow with a difficult calf delivery<br />
<br />
administer injections to our animals<br />
<br />
make apple cider and apple cider vinegar<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRZQth68s__6kaQ9WDqwwwQX-frC_8yttGfWJ1PdVLztchuYzXvxYPeEXNuqmXFX-784pQGCmhwytBuGClSEIb6lULfsss8WWC_YHYnUrpvhkJ10m7eKZZ64Ud-aNt0_Tkkc_seJvFb4/s1600/fullsizeoutput_8707.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRZQth68s__6kaQ9WDqwwwQX-frC_8yttGfWJ1PdVLztchuYzXvxYPeEXNuqmXFX-784pQGCmhwytBuGClSEIb6lULfsss8WWC_YHYnUrpvhkJ10m7eKZZ64Ud-aNt0_Tkkc_seJvFb4/s200/fullsizeoutput_8707.jpeg" width="200" /></a>render lard<br />
<br />
make delicious guinea fowl pie<br />
<br />
make do without clean water in our taps for extended periods<br />
<br />
gather beeswax for soap making<br />
<br />
preserve almost every kind of local fruit and vegetable<br />
<br />
grow and grind our own maize for porridge, bread and tortillas<br />
<br />
sing worship songs in seSotho<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifY6hE9y8d-bllsJvRGxaCx8sNrOwtbkXk0QfkK_uiP_8tkOJ1Oys_HDxUVfrOKhMyixWFxYaPdtRCihgLScqwu9ra6HasRkVE1bjxkNt1IVVfmKQaueCE6RHpNgemX27mStvZ21eYGUc/s1600/IMG_4760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifY6hE9y8d-bllsJvRGxaCx8sNrOwtbkXk0QfkK_uiP_8tkOJ1Oys_HDxUVfrOKhMyixWFxYaPdtRCihgLScqwu9ra6HasRkVE1bjxkNt1IVVfmKQaueCE6RHpNgemX27mStvZ21eYGUc/s200/IMG_4760.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
brew herbal teas<br />
<br />
dry fruit from the summer harvest<br />
<br />
<br />
Each new skill presented itself as a natural response to a need, opportunity or responsibility. My teachers have been books, wonderful people, my animals and the internet. Some lessons grew out of my dislike of waste and the satisfaction I feel from using my resources to their capacity. I am eager to learn so much more.<br />
<br />
<b>I would love to:</b><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4WuM8J_8RSX21s8uEaeq4q5CecMHpOpwP9mbYSIpN-LXkQ1cEItEgLKKCSKGQIDfQ-zeN341DhH-yJ-hPSTAW_KxDW8QSw0edb_fqFnqL-WgsNR5EMGPQemfTVilrwRiMkP8CmUY0AYI/s1600/Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4WuM8J_8RSX21s8uEaeq4q5CecMHpOpwP9mbYSIpN-LXkQ1cEItEgLKKCSKGQIDfQ-zeN341DhH-yJ-hPSTAW_KxDW8QSw0edb_fqFnqL-WgsNR5EMGPQemfTVilrwRiMkP8CmUY0AYI/s200/Image.jpg" width="200" /></a>begin exploring the art of using natural dyes for fleece<br />
<br />
try a little more felting<br />
<br />
learn to embroider beautifully<br />
<br />
weave some of my handspan yarn<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikJHyIJjYJgFRjnNBvV6Zr4TjLyItJKp2iDc4L580BWqwg_B_VdlItwhkbdqP9icwKo1ixw1mOfs2pP1rP3MeRLzV8oeuPiYFVsQFLAxVKJgdi99MN3sw2jz2ffyInb2-iSGrjrbHCXX4/s1600/IMG_6803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikJHyIJjYJgFRjnNBvV6Zr4TjLyItJKp2iDc4L580BWqwg_B_VdlItwhkbdqP9icwKo1ixw1mOfs2pP1rP3MeRLzV8oeuPiYFVsQFLAxVKJgdi99MN3sw2jz2ffyInb2-iSGrjrbHCXX4/s200/IMG_6803.JPG" width="200" /></a>learn to weave the thatching grasses into broom, baskets and hats<br />
<br />
learn to speak seSotho so that I can engage with the farm women and children<br />
<br />
teach the little ones some arts and crafts<br />
<br />
ride better than I do<br />
<br />
grow disease-free tomatoes successfully<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Yymbyt_MnUWP8HBuQU1wyxYU6JhtHlRma5cT0SebDFp0vrN6ZjhfnV7S4jAvrwxMdjOcEBxxNVF4indF9hCxZVky2oskijqXw_SlDv_SfeTg9_nZz0izfhuqHmETWyt3d_BQsmFM0yc/s1600/IMG_7419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Yymbyt_MnUWP8HBuQU1wyxYU6JhtHlRma5cT0SebDFp0vrN6ZjhfnV7S4jAvrwxMdjOcEBxxNVF4indF9hCxZVky2oskijqXw_SlDv_SfeTg9_nZz0izfhuqHmETWyt3d_BQsmFM0yc/s200/IMG_7419.JPG" width="200" /></a>plant a prettier garden<br />
<br />
write<br />
<br />
paint<br />
<br />
make fruit wine<br />
<br />
and so much more....<br />
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-68408455749807144002018-04-11T12:04:00.003-07:002018-04-11T12:12:37.381-07:00Soap Making<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk2zgxUrHY5aLGf3-15Eti49HDLPHhVChttjFW3RjsMq2wDmQyBdHBLQ2FeMlxuqms-HumPJETTAmoDpjuoXtlEDiVW_tIQBP7bdFuEN-K5M2QqNAZRA7nlMNzhRCDPuxL_Pl_8BT-KtM/s1600/IMG_4166.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk2zgxUrHY5aLGf3-15Eti49HDLPHhVChttjFW3RjsMq2wDmQyBdHBLQ2FeMlxuqms-HumPJETTAmoDpjuoXtlEDiVW_tIQBP7bdFuEN-K5M2QqNAZRA7nlMNzhRCDPuxL_Pl_8BT-KtM/s320/IMG_4166.JPG" width="320" /></a>I made two batches of soap in the past two days. My motive: to use up the tallow in the fridge which is the last fat remaining from our own grass raised beef. I rendered the fat many months ago. It remains stable in the freezer drawer of the fridge, but I would like to make some space.<br />
<br />
Both batches used said tallow which makes wonderfully smooth, hard soap along with coconut oil, sunflower oil and a little castor oil for the moisturising bubble factor. These were all ingredients that were already in the pantry. Once the tallow is all used up, I will continue with the jars of lard in the fridge. Lard makes a creamy soap that is excellent for problem skin.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I scented the soap with mandarin essential oil. Then I stirred in grey shards of pettigrain and charcoal soap saved from a previous batch.<br />
<br />
Today I scented the soap with honeysuckle essential oil, melted in the tip of a pink lipstick I don't wear and stirred in shards of jasmine scented soap. This batch was mixed at a slightly higher temperature and volcanoed a bit in the mould. I am sure it will still be great for home use.<br />
<br />
I was approached to supply my soaps to a farm stall today. I will happily do so if they are willing to let me continue making varied soap according to what I have rather than according to a set requirement.<br />
<br />
Besides the soap, other thrifty things I have been busy with this week so far...<br />
<br />
...Making chutney using the last of the red and green tomato harvest and our abundant albeit small onions.<br />
<br />
...Dinner last night was leftover cheese sauce served over spaghetti. It wasn't the healthiest choice but the sauce needed eating. I made sure that we had a huge salad a lunchtime to balance our diet for the day.<br />
<br />
,,, Instead of driving all the way to town to prepare for a birthday tea I hosted for a friend, I picked carrots and then baked a carrot cake substituting sunflower seeds for walnuts and our own preserved apple for tinned pineapple. It was delicious.<br />
<br />
... I also made her a gift Pamper Pack which was prettily presented and made from gift items I had in the home. She has step by step instructions and what she needs for a 1 hour mini spa treat at home.<br />
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-45791628754996770092016-11-18T06:05:00.005-08:002016-11-18T06:05:46.531-08:00Making Do in AbundanceWARNING... the longer I wait between posts, the longer my posts become. (This one was written 2 weeks ago, but I am only uploading pics and posting today.)<br />
<br />
I have gone from someone who blogged about twice a week to someone who may blog every two months. I love writing and often find myself composing blog posts in my head, but seldom find the time to sit and type them up. My interests and crafting activities have developed and expanded so that could be a reason. I seem to live in seasons. I really really do want to continue blogging as my heart is to keep a literal web log of my life here on this farm and there is so much to record and share.<br />
So thank you, Cindy, for the reminder to keep on writing. Ideally I would like to write frequent, short posts.<br />
<br />
It is a sultry Friday afternoon. My son has just dragged himself back to his desk to study. He wrote a 3 hour Maths paper this morning. I am sitting at my desk with the curtains drawn in an attempt to keep cool. It's too hot to wear shoes, so I have kicked them off. I am rolling my feet over wooden beads as I type.<br />
<br />
I had planned to wash some fleece this afternoon, but we have no clean water in our tank again. We are piping river water into the house so that we can still shower and flush, but Caledon River water is silty so it won't help to clean fleeces.<br />
<br />
Next on the To-Do list was to make a batch of soap. Washing soapy pots and utensils uses a fair bit of water and when we are heating pots of clean water on the stove for each load of dishes...<br />
<br />
It's too hot to spin, weave, cook or garden.<br />
<br />
So I have no excuse not to write.<br />
<br />
October has been a financially challenging month. We were recovering from September: We celebrated my husband's 50th and our daughter's 21st birthdays which also required a road trip to Cape Town. We discovered that a lot of my husband's tools that he uses for work have been 'taken'. Our vehicle needed major repairs and we had to pay a lump sum for education fees. In order to ease things I have shopped as little as possible. In fact I spent less on groceries for the month than someone I know spent on one meal for a braai (barbecue).<br />
<br />
How did I do it?<br />
<br />
Firstly, we use what there is in the house instead of rushing off to the shops. The best way of saving money is not to spend it. Usually my two guys have no idea that I am hustling to stretch our resources as they are always well fed and they don't feel deprived. That's the key to being Elastic Mom.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
And October is strawberry month.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijC7M4MeHWHLYlSL18brHb4mBHVhD60r9fe9eetDeLQfiE_CaQnDAsaT7a7I5QUb4sZMt79xibepY2ipSfQJW4zCTIgv3aMRw3g293vsNNnAv7NhfgMZ00fdTUWtzDF2iard_8QOFmoz4/s1600/IMG_6459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijC7M4MeHWHLYlSL18brHb4mBHVhD60r9fe9eetDeLQfiE_CaQnDAsaT7a7I5QUb4sZMt79xibepY2ipSfQJW4zCTIgv3aMRw3g293vsNNnAv7NhfgMZ00fdTUWtzDF2iard_8QOFmoz4/s640/IMG_6459.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
When we ran out of dishwasher blocks, we only washed the dishes by hand for the rest of the month. (Although in desperation Decadent Dad did try to run the dishwasher using dish liquid.) I haven't felt the need to buy more dishwasher blocks yet. I quite enjoy the contemplation of washing dishes and looking at the view.<br />
<br />
I drink decaf coffee, so when that ran out I drank more tea and switched to the occasional cup of cocoa topped with leftover party marshmallows. It's all about using what there is, rather than what we might want, but making it good and tasty.<br />
<br />
When the milk ran out, we drank interesting black, herbal tea or iced tea. I made rooibos and lemon verbena tea, mint and sage exam time tea, mint and fennel digestive tea.<br />
<br />
When the teabags ran out we drank iced water, herbal teas and strawberry smoothies, and by then we had bought some lovely Jersey milk from my friend so Decadent Dad could make himself some coffee again. We did also buy some milk. We haven't replaced the decaf, but I don't miss it yet.<br />
<br />
We are blessed with a freezer full of our own pasture raised beef and pork. So that is what we ate. I didn't buy any fish, lamb or chicken. I would ring the changes with vegetarian meals too. We have some of our own cheese, and always one or two eggs in daily supply. Some days we get up to seven eggs. We also grow our own veg and eat what is in season. In October we had asparagus, carrots, beets, peas, mange touts, cabbage, spinach and salad greens.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXYrelYJiWSsYnGRwVXYqIQqophNpMNLy3QO4O8TvaVoV6gk8hge-4iURFM8M7FlVkiYH5-OJLTPw7_zYHgjkgr-ybsVfgJ5vqsWqpWS80QOv8-UtRPYY1fDq4YPKbIvAJn4auzITHIk4/s1600/IMG_6366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXYrelYJiWSsYnGRwVXYqIQqophNpMNLy3QO4O8TvaVoV6gk8hge-4iURFM8M7FlVkiYH5-OJLTPw7_zYHgjkgr-ybsVfgJ5vqsWqpWS80QOv8-UtRPYY1fDq4YPKbIvAJn4auzITHIk4/s640/IMG_6366.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Usually we eat two oat breakfasts a week and two mieliemeel breakfasts. When the oats and bread ran out I tried a bit of banting... fresh eggs and our own bacon baked in muffin trays followed with a handful of strawberries from the garden. It was delicious.<br />
<br />
When the butter and oil ran out I cooked with our own lovely rendered lard and drippings from roasts which give the best flavour or coconut oil that has been in the pantry, just asking to be used.<br />
<br />
When the pasta ran out Decadent Dad made some tagliatelle using flour and eggs. Who can complain about handmade pasta.<br />
<br />
When the flour started running low (we bake our own bread) I used a mixture of flour, mieliemeel and pea flour (which needed using) to make two nutritious loaves of bread. When those were finished, we just ate other things like frittatta and salad for lunch, and meat and veggies for supper. We did buy more flour later in the month.<br />
<br />
Here are a few of the delicious meals we ate in October:<br />
<br />
Breakfasts:<br />
<br />
strawberry and rhubarb muffins<br />
homemade strawberry ice cream that was turning into butter baked into muffins<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHAYgSyawRKnrWCpJ2AECu48bXyfKiV6kHrC0vZGhQoVccQP5bdfGQQgoXC57fwa0-3-aw69o80-WVRaTX6opBhZm6LgoR4PsODMF2Lv-DtAJvSkDyoCI-LcAY7yLrHn80gQMwaNI0eeo/s1600/IMG_6657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHAYgSyawRKnrWCpJ2AECu48bXyfKiV6kHrC0vZGhQoVccQP5bdfGQQgoXC57fwa0-3-aw69o80-WVRaTX6opBhZm6LgoR4PsODMF2Lv-DtAJvSkDyoCI-LcAY7yLrHn80gQMwaNI0eeo/s640/IMG_6657.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
oats topped with fresh strawberries and cream (off the top of the milk)<br />
mieliemeel porridge with honey and some of our own ground heirloom Transkei maize.<br />
strawberry, honey, vanilla and homemade yoghurt smoothies (using Jersey milk)<br />
strawberry, rhubarb, walnut and oat bake (walnuts picked last summer)<br />
eggs and bacon<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV7Ibb8AxRj3v8pEdVAVGSATWczF1oGO25AvJQ8BUeYNcMsvRNa-AJEUv0C49YLlWy6j8AMycdxj9htddDwt0fpI60xFCwPIqZdF3WMafkGCZ-qgAsGrbyvgkqETtVq8frOEl8iCWt_sE/s1600/IMG_6846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV7Ibb8AxRj3v8pEdVAVGSATWczF1oGO25AvJQ8BUeYNcMsvRNa-AJEUv0C49YLlWy6j8AMycdxj9htddDwt0fpI60xFCwPIqZdF3WMafkGCZ-qgAsGrbyvgkqETtVq8frOEl8iCWt_sE/s640/IMG_6846.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Lunches:<br />
<br />
Egg and bacon spinach salad with curried dressing<br />
leek and cheese pie with coleslaw from the garden<br />
pea and bacon salad<br />
hearty beef and vegetable soup and home baked bread<br />
spinach, asparagus and spring onion frittata with just picked lettuce salad<br />
red wine cured bresaola and salad sandwiches<br />
beetroot hummus with potato salad<br />
beetroot, walnut and cumin salad<br />
toasted cheese and peach chutney<br />
curried carrot soup served with pea flour and maize bread<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpZttr-ET7V0tOHNPFqmWUPMtYuPisPZVcvzkCV-LGbW4ratznuLi-l5E-3vMoOai7Qcr1ip2UKIwEyvHeqsnJLeEetJNVi963463Fp3c_aZhfLZP1UMDIrKi5JkC5iBBxNzqGdmGa1w0/s1600/fullsizeoutput_83d5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpZttr-ET7V0tOHNPFqmWUPMtYuPisPZVcvzkCV-LGbW4ratznuLi-l5E-3vMoOai7Qcr1ip2UKIwEyvHeqsnJLeEetJNVi963463Fp3c_aZhfLZP1UMDIrKi5JkC5iBBxNzqGdmGa1w0/s640/fullsizeoutput_83d5.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Suppers:<br />
<br />
spinach lasagne where I layered spinach leaves between the mince instead of pasta<br />
grilled spicy homemade sausage with spinach, peas and carrots<br />
slow cooked beef and paprika on mash<br />
braaied pork ribs with BBQ sauce<br />
spinach and bacon pasta<br />
chorizo and pork sausage stew with mung beans, garden veggies and fennel on rice<br />
homemade pizza with bacon and mushrooms (Decadent Dad bought the mushrooms as a Special Night treat)<br />
Spinach pie with wasabi and mustard seed pastry<br />
Roast brisket with gravy, potatoes and veg<br />
Strawberry ice cream for dessert<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyM-I8t8pw74fPZLvsJakvtfYUEvCVMZFs_ITJcDjVgC2i7x2st7qpw-lfqHoaDZQU1EqiR6q6H_JbIfLRwpnTL5z0aUbBFMp77zqlaoCHuddNLcZcZjOgRx39kjURbol88tNOtxlJWyw/s1600/IMG_6588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyM-I8t8pw74fPZLvsJakvtfYUEvCVMZFs_ITJcDjVgC2i7x2st7qpw-lfqHoaDZQU1EqiR6q6H_JbIfLRwpnTL5z0aUbBFMp77zqlaoCHuddNLcZcZjOgRx39kjURbol88tNOtxlJWyw/s640/IMG_6588.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
As you can see we ate really well in October. If you had come for a meal and not known things were tough, you wouldn't have guessed. I am thankful for God's abundant provision for our family in so many ways.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Use it up,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Wear it out,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Make do,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Or do without"</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-7283719776092446372016-09-05T06:26:00.004-07:002016-09-05T06:34:22.990-07:00The Beginning of Spring I wrote this on Friday evening:<br />
<br />
Today we harvested nettles. We wore gloves. My wool dying experiment with nettles in July was a dismal failure. The nettle bread, however, was brilliantly green. The nettles have been safely subdued with a steaming and now they are in the fridge. There is also a large bunch drying on the verandah. Even weeds can be wonderful. Now I am dreaming of nettles served simply with butter, salt, and pepper; nettle soup; nettle soap; and maybe even nettle pancakes. Oh, and how could I forget nettle tea?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr6y8XsilzLZh69idWGe0qafmzpsPFsf4PbrUNWrQNsjeysKlWZmHwKRrEsOW-q764kEZ72B-gxxo674OZ38xjDCST-szmDPI7ilEK4Si_8MC0-93GCpkFWflin9lrRtJE_zHR-iBlXdQ/s1600/IMG_5657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr6y8XsilzLZh69idWGe0qafmzpsPFsf4PbrUNWrQNsjeysKlWZmHwKRrEsOW-q764kEZ72B-gxxo674OZ38xjDCST-szmDPI7ilEK4Si_8MC0-93GCpkFWflin9lrRtJE_zHR-iBlXdQ/s640/IMG_5657.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The trick of being Elastic Mom is to stay on top of whatever is flourishing right now. Well, to try.<br />
<br />
Someone else is flourishing since she has discovered the art of knitting. This afternoon I taught Mammei, one of the Hope Knitters, how to purl and make stocking stitch and rib. She wants to knit a hat. Her Cutie Pie has stolen my heart. I have known her since she was a premie in hospital being nurtured by kangaroo care. Her mother called me because they don't feed their patients properly in the government hospitals here and she was hungry. Cutie Pie grins every time she looks at me and waves goodbye whenever we part ways.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtTTxhgsvaG6IlA-IHOgOOYO9FmLrgo4bxkJipmhAUO0u9i4_-oLdCEAxaTloM-jMT8YxYYCA87fqzRkDmnZzmhLUxunZK1U1sbNhx4I_iyjGn_xMZ6WLSVy2Sy7dXSFDFjZdvDWc9yJ8/s1600/IMG_5762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtTTxhgsvaG6IlA-IHOgOOYO9FmLrgo4bxkJipmhAUO0u9i4_-oLdCEAxaTloM-jMT8YxYYCA87fqzRkDmnZzmhLUxunZK1U1sbNhx4I_iyjGn_xMZ6WLSVy2Sy7dXSFDFjZdvDWc9yJ8/s640/IMG_5762.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
The pigs have run away again. Tomorrow morning I will find them snoring in their beds. We knew they had finished plowing up the chicken run when they made an exit hole under the fence. My son and the dogs went looking for them. All they found were jackals aggressively guarding a den, containing pups no doubt.<br />
<br />
Our water was black today. We first noticed it when washing the white linen from my bed. I sent my black sheets up the hill to show the two men who were working on the pipes and neglected to warn us first. I wonder if it will make a difference next time they need to fix the pipes.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRM7dADY1dfHjHEWkjn1xnM4mdIG6izyibsMUqF05BZnsRnvRg73Ka_o8FifBTHNVitn_eSkKqGewJrMpVSasn2rV_epAQ-WVrjfmTFFBXU3c8o2UgrrUSjIXgKizIBRRNgT8-v6_X_Vc/s1600/IMG_5789.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRM7dADY1dfHjHEWkjn1xnM4mdIG6izyibsMUqF05BZnsRnvRg73Ka_o8FifBTHNVitn_eSkKqGewJrMpVSasn2rV_epAQ-WVrjfmTFFBXU3c8o2UgrrUSjIXgKizIBRRNgT8-v6_X_Vc/s640/IMG_5789.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We have stopped lighting fires in the evenings. Spring has arrived, clothing the peach trees in pink, the apricot orchard in white and also our almond saplings in delicate touches of white. We made it the]rough winter without needing to light Esse the Faithful. My fingers are still recovering but the saving of R1000 a month for anthracite was worth it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1-hJCy6ySZszCtUEbIlEl3kVv-KDJGrRbvg4Ot9SPAAqlCZ9mxjmiHqj6OPgU5QGK15HFCzYLuqw5tSzZPeV5i12cs3mSdPSZBUJYjbZDgWqXYS3B7MoYPQoFAiAgAOdC7nZYvkRwshI/s1600/IMG_5692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1-hJCy6ySZszCtUEbIlEl3kVv-KDJGrRbvg4Ot9SPAAqlCZ9mxjmiHqj6OPgU5QGK15HFCzYLuqw5tSzZPeV5i12cs3mSdPSZBUJYjbZDgWqXYS3B7MoYPQoFAiAgAOdC7nZYvkRwshI/s640/IMG_5692.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
This morning I blew off the dust bunnies and unpacked the suitcase under my bed. It felt light and lovely to hang my summer dresses in the cupboard and toss my warm scarves into the suitcase instead. The rest of my winter clothes are staying put in case we have another cold snap. It seems unlikely in these dry, warm days. Once the excitement of the spring blossoms and daffodils wanes I realise that it really isn't my favourite season. Free State spring is a time of waiting for summer rain, a time of dusty winds and often a time of firefighting for my men. The vase of peach blossoms on the mantle is pretty though.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglQof2ofbheEtgKWSXySfheEUDx7N4ZW43d7Nj7oavg1kA2jCCExMeHin768tlzxBG_EWyCACObqVsC0CzJ_duEspMIbGfbj59B-BxNdzO1h2ZueyR9zXCWki6q85RG-Lis_5gHnhqZE/s1600/IMG_5739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglQof2ofbheEtgKWSXySfheEUDx7N4ZW43d7Nj7oavg1kA2jCCExMeHin768tlzxBG_EWyCACObqVsC0CzJ_duEspMIbGfbj59B-BxNdzO1h2ZueyR9zXCWki6q85RG-Lis_5gHnhqZE/s640/IMG_5739.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
September also heralds the beginning of the busy birthday season. My philosophy is that gifts either cost money or time. I don't really have either in abundance at the moment, though I do try to enjoy some creative time in the evenings. Yesterday's birthday girl received a knitted hat, a beanie in the Elle Toledo Smarties colourway from my stash, with a big yellow pompom. I wrapped it in drawing paper, tied some yellow tulle (fairy wings from when my daughter was small enough to wear such things) around it and made a card from a bird cut out of a box of tea. It looked just right for a 7-year old. The other half of the ball of yarn had been used for my Miss Marple tea cosy. I am happy that I managed to use it up and all the gift cost me was my time.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQQY_o6SN96FTNDnYmZEEa503GELcFa-Ym9D6KUXxDKWgaw_3sgdtG13Lw9OZqOfswb0FfAKN7vlPE7xoqF4FN1O9Lwzstc74SDnSgg9q8DOAG8UgmmTyV02qMPsVQXhm4hAELYbeRJ6A/s1600/IMG_5746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQQY_o6SN96FTNDnYmZEEa503GELcFa-Ym9D6KUXxDKWgaw_3sgdtG13Lw9OZqOfswb0FfAKN7vlPE7xoqF4FN1O9Lwzstc74SDnSgg9q8DOAG8UgmmTyV02qMPsVQXhm4hAELYbeRJ6A/s400/IMG_5746.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-37354937303431184192016-08-31T06:54:00.001-07:002016-08-31T06:54:04.053-07:00Blessed Abundance<div class="MsoNormal">
I am sitting on an old stone bench, facing the chicken run.
It was built as a step for mounting horses. The warm air has a sweet spring
fragrance. The chickens are industriously inspecting the upturned earth in
their run after Winifred and the young pigs finished their day’s work of
plowing it up for me. It is the golden hour, just before sunset, where
everything is still except for the cheeping chicks, clucking hens and twitters
of the white-browed sparrow weavers in the honey locust trees. Zizou, our Jack
Russell Terrier, has just jumped up to join me. She is leaning against my back
and staring across towards Lesotho over in the distance behind me. Next to me
is a bucket filled with a lanky cauliflower and a generous picking of broad
beans. The cauliflower is for tonight’s chicken soup, Jewish Penicillin, a
Jamie favourite. I will substitute it for the broccoli in the recipe because
that is what we have in the garden. The broad beans will be in tomorrow’s salad
for the Quilt Club’s lunch I am hosting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha9B6hIhuz-_fd1rgkI_sEph7hanps0_taCLuGZV15rUH_MILoMZz6rZ3PNIc62P_gjKVM3cuDZ3Vm_K7VnJbI_Ucjg1Bqg6SoUZo9ALSv2Y-SfSLQoOtx4FIO_xSCFPiBL_5DQ7IvYFM/s1600/IMG_5643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha9B6hIhuz-_fd1rgkI_sEph7hanps0_taCLuGZV15rUH_MILoMZz6rZ3PNIc62P_gjKVM3cuDZ3Vm_K7VnJbI_Ucjg1Bqg6SoUZo9ALSv2Y-SfSLQoOtx4FIO_xSCFPiBL_5DQ7IvYFM/s640/IMG_5643.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Barbara Kingsolver, in her wonderful book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Animal Vegetable Miracle, </span></i><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">calls this time of year The Hungry Season. It is the time when
winter is over along with the last of the stored autumn harvest, but the new
spring crops haven’t grown enough to be harvested either. It has been a tough
year where our summer harvest was not as good as usual and we also lost all our
carefully frozen vegetables, yet we are doing pretty well for the hungry
season. I always shop in the garden, pantry and freezer before making the trip
to town to buy food. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt60tZ1HH3ARQx4dV_UCvp4us9_zjSpiABrFvSdxxKSIUwvp_dUIaaa4Ft8KvbqngC4FoE8HBmyFC7AxFq6nzK-PnzlJUrbIjgW9LLyBrhecsAKrsqXHy7IRMEOKiQSoC-AjoN-Pk4qcs/s1600/IMG_5696.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt60tZ1HH3ARQx4dV_UCvp4us9_zjSpiABrFvSdxxKSIUwvp_dUIaaa4Ft8KvbqngC4FoE8HBmyFC7AxFq6nzK-PnzlJUrbIjgW9LLyBrhecsAKrsqXHy7IRMEOKiQSoC-AjoN-Pk4qcs/s640/IMG_5696.jpg" width="542" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Last night I picked a bucket of rainbow chard
and some young Egyptian walking onions. I cooked them up with 2 slices of
chopped leftover gammon and served them in toasted sandwiches with a little
grated cheese. The Swiss chard is such a faithful friend. It has carried us
through the winter frosts and drought. Once the weather warms up it will
probably go to seed, but not before new seeds have grown up in another part of
the veggie tunnel to replace the existing bed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEict6LEfAXWLQWnuiXgGROJLCwgRiJFuHn5mu6OgDiFqrfCNgDMWUV22f5cUoZsjyjUA_HRR1r6SW-gIfK9HZdfGVUB1bUlcenxPW-p2Z9zu4g9xEci2WUP6u6Yz-_0BOZjl2K6yYxVn4I/s1600/IMG_5695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEict6LEfAXWLQWnuiXgGROJLCwgRiJFuHn5mu6OgDiFqrfCNgDMWUV22f5cUoZsjyjUA_HRR1r6SW-gIfK9HZdfGVUB1bUlcenxPW-p2Z9zu4g9xEci2WUP6u6Yz-_0BOZjl2K6yYxVn4I/s640/IMG_5695.jpg" width="484" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The broad beans are taller than ever and starting
to produce what looks like a promising spring harvest. Along with some mange
tout peas, we have plenty of greens for the table in the form of self seeded
butter lettuce, nettles, rocket, oak leaf lettuce, cabbages, kale and then some
young Chinese cabbage and mizuna. The Chinese cabbages have started going to
seed in the warmer spring weather, so I will use them whole in stir-fries,
flowers and all. As always, I will try to use all my harvest, even if it is not
perfect. In the hope that our few cauliflowers would grow bigger, I left them
too long so now they are past their best but still perfectly edible. I plan to
use them to make Indian pakora with the chickpea flour that needs using in my
pantry (It is best served with Chai tea on a rainy day.) <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZa8tHXrSBKsmV_S-b3HtkYbr_LsE9skWPHSMi0P4FRM8-Kqar7ZKj3FeyZArg9x9q0N7gyLV1zzZrjM9oi0OfjrvEp1aei_j-vX6RrJaYoeNknJxDQVoInBSqZDUdjUat72UnPkc9E6Y/s1600/IMG_5441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZa8tHXrSBKsmV_S-b3HtkYbr_LsE9skWPHSMi0P4FRM8-Kqar7ZKj3FeyZArg9x9q0N7gyLV1zzZrjM9oi0OfjrvEp1aei_j-vX6RrJaYoeNknJxDQVoInBSqZDUdjUat72UnPkc9E6Y/s640/IMG_5441.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The spring sowing has begun. We have rows of
tiny carrots and beetroot, and lots of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>hopefulseeds trays for the tomatoes, peppers and brinjals.
Last years garlic’s and leeks are looking great and the new onion seedlings are
doing well. It’s a good start. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaG-ccFDKBEFAXaZN0cQLoKb5Ir4QFpFd5YPd-XpYYa8a_-EcCDXqlVBZU3r83K_gS0HyNPZhKBUjhxiKVnYtlOODblXqzWMrh7r2WNkyc0xV6BQFwfOWIHIevAK4vNk8kIDyl8BktSJM/s1600/IMG_5644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaG-ccFDKBEFAXaZN0cQLoKb5Ir4QFpFd5YPd-XpYYa8a_-EcCDXqlVBZU3r83K_gS0HyNPZhKBUjhxiKVnYtlOODblXqzWMrh7r2WNkyc0xV6BQFwfOWIHIevAK4vNk8kIDyl8BktSJM/s640/IMG_5644.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We have plenty of our own pasture-raised beef
in the freezer now, which will hopefully last us for a long time. In the not
too distant future, some organic free-range pork will join it. The pork is
rather too free ranging at the moment: the naughty rascals keep disappearing
leaving us searching all over, hence their being put to work in the chicken run
this week. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:DocumentProperties>
<o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template>
<o:Revision>0</o:Revision>
<o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime>
<o:Pages>1</o:Pages>
<o:Words>566</o:Words>
<o:Characters>3228</o:Characters>
<o:Company>private</o:Company>
<o:Lines>26</o:Lines>
<o:Paragraphs>6</o:Paragraphs>
<o:CharactersWithSpaces>3964</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
<o:Version>12.256</o:Version>
</o:DocumentProperties>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>
<w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>
<w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
</w:Compatibility>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276">
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Marigold and Matilda are leading their chicks
to bed as the sun dips behind the hill. I will shut them all in securely, feed
the dogs, close the curtains inside and then finish making dinner while I watch
the last episode of Miss Marple. Decadent Dad is busy in his leather workshop.
Our son is at his drawing board. They are each playing their own music
selection while they work, so I will wear headphones to hear Miss Marple while
I cook. </span></div>
Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-35298134777608101292016-08-26T11:48:00.001-07:002016-08-26T11:48:35.033-07:00Still StretchingIt's been six months since I last posted here. I miss this space.<br />
<br />
Random songs are warming the mood as the fire crackles in the hearth and Decadent Dad is whistling, just like his Pops, and enthusiastically chopping and grilling our Friday Night Special Night dinner. This institution started in 2000. Tonight we are looking forward to hot baked rolls filled with our own Chinese spiced beef sausage and a cabbage pickle à la Jamie, followed by chocolate Tumble cake, as in chocolate coated raisin and shortcake balls baked into a cake. We will watch a movie and I will knit. Of course there will also be coffee.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUy7yrSYTUP3IxzpVukKylA-3NJXpWlpsFQdQMQy5E1w3AybJLR84SEkjvhVSSODZlaUGtv50zxOFamBKsQtn8A43Lf-IG_ax-OAMnwTj2v8E5mGcJUGHe0JH9A53n45SPa6tgaKaxiI0/s1600/IMG_5587.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUy7yrSYTUP3IxzpVukKylA-3NJXpWlpsFQdQMQy5E1w3AybJLR84SEkjvhVSSODZlaUGtv50zxOFamBKsQtn8A43Lf-IG_ax-OAMnwTj2v8E5mGcJUGHe0JH9A53n45SPa6tgaKaxiI0/s640/IMG_5587.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
I am making a tea cosy for my art deco Susie Cooper teapot that I inherited from my grandmother. I am using a squishy cream-coloured yarn with streaks of yellow, red, green and blue, a mohair/wool/acrylic blend: Toledo by Elle in the Smarties colourway. It will be topped with cream coloured roses and green leaves. I am making it on a whim after joining the Miss Marple Knit-along that A Knitter's Life is hosting. I am binge watching the Joan Hickson series of Miss Marple, Agatha Christie murders while I work on the tea cosy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk7SJEGrYtCLLNbPw7Z3PITjWG09ur6NitmQYTq3X6PdyA0gheevwzwbiUj-6xLI2PUmcIhhwa2rtwWaO-g4Az3ReQliwgdI2nTZGM8Gx0wgEMXG01Nu9cra1ztUWVRTMj1icdm4HURC8/s1600/IMG_5418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk7SJEGrYtCLLNbPw7Z3PITjWG09ur6NitmQYTq3X6PdyA0gheevwzwbiUj-6xLI2PUmcIhhwa2rtwWaO-g4Az3ReQliwgdI2nTZGM8Gx0wgEMXG01Nu9cra1ztUWVRTMj1icdm4HURC8/s640/IMG_5418.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
Since learning to spin, my taste in yarn has become a bit more discerning but, being Elastic Mom, I can't bear waste and will try to make the most of my pretty acrylic yarns. Earlier in the month I went stash-diving and put together a Leftovers Diagonal Scarf using a collection of scraps of purple wool that my sister gave me a few years ago. It feels good to turn these bitty pretties into something that is fun to wear. I really like how it turned out. I am sure that some of the wool was hand dyed mohair blend from Nurturing Fibres, there was also eyelash yarn, some recycled sari silk yarn, and the leftovers from the Granny Stripe Blanket that I made for my daughter when we first moved up to the farm. Now she lives faraway and it is her-Hug-From Mum blanket. It is so bright that my son told me it hurt his eyes. My goal is too try to use up my yarn stash before I buy more yarn.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6U34p6W50HzCFVkrEKjmE_500wOS1fT6NvGu7BRc3XDOwpOb_Apm12nV9Q3wqqR16CFMAXPNcIXoqVyoByB7Na9z091FyV9aBIVX4r56aPTJ_Shzue2DW1LUAQYkhoWfF62o048J0eY/s1600/IMG_5629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6U34p6W50HzCFVkrEKjmE_500wOS1fT6NvGu7BRc3XDOwpOb_Apm12nV9Q3wqqR16CFMAXPNcIXoqVyoByB7Na9z091FyV9aBIVX4r56aPTJ_Shzue2DW1LUAQYkhoWfF62o048J0eY/s640/IMG_5629.jpg" width="428" /></a></div>
<br />
I gave away quite a bit of my stash yarn when I started the Hope Knitters group with the three ladies who live in the staff village up the road. I wanted to give them a way of earning some money to supplement their husbands' meagre incomes. The ladies live in rudimentary houses with outside pit toilets and no running water in their homes, just cold water taps outside. Their lives are hard. They collect wood to warm their homes. They do have electricity, but their diet mostly consists of mieliemeel (maize porridge). Even though we are a little group and the knitting project is a simple concept, I believe that it will bring them hope.<br />
<br />
The idea is to start with an incentive pack of yarn, knit or crochet an item, sell it and use the proceeds to buy another skein of yarn. Once they have done all that then they receive another donated incentive pack from me. Then they are free to spend the profits or save them and use any leftovers for personal projects. We have received some generous yarn donations from kind people from Cape Town to America. We happily take leftover yarn and scraps and I put them into 100g packs. Blantina, who works for me has enthusiastically joined the group, and we have occasional visits from a middle aged Basotho man, Ntate Tshupa, who used to crochet using a match as his crochet hook.<br />
<br />
Mentoring these beautiful ladies has been exciting and heartbreaking. It is wonderful to see their progress and their delight in selling the items they make. Choosing their well earned packs of donated yarn brings them such joy as they anticipate their new projects. They are quick and keen to learn new stitches and patterns. We try to meet weekly. One lady brings along <span style="text-align: center;">her two little girls who play with educational toys while their mama knits. When I first started I didn't realise how much my life would change. These ladies have captured a piece of my heart. It has been heartbreaking to see the effects of poverty on their homes along with enduring the brunt of alcoholism and domestic abuse. One of the ladies has left the group because she can't see beyond her personal pain. Then came tragedy of a car accident that killed the young husband of one of our ladies. We have taken a knock. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyreH04eGuVPe5URrGmsPO-u1xwJk-g-XZWa_-TCazqOIJ8qO77tNEYp2ZTvFr5Itj3ujW0L5yk73VZ-2IrW4nPY_x-9kq3Vq0U_xKQvDiIO1euxB2r2qpk-qR_cPs9cqr6CBIqdOD3sg/s1600/IMG_5634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyreH04eGuVPe5URrGmsPO-u1xwJk-g-XZWa_-TCazqOIJ8qO77tNEYp2ZTvFr5Itj3ujW0L5yk73VZ-2IrW4nPY_x-9kq3Vq0U_xKQvDiIO1euxB2r2qpk-qR_cPs9cqr6CBIqdOD3sg/s640/IMG_5634.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Yesterday three of us sat under some gum trees with a view towards the mountains of Lesotho. We stitched and chatted. It was one of those infinite moments where nothing else mattered except that moment.<br />
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-79246838151899383402016-02-21T11:20:00.000-08:002016-02-21T11:20:01.089-08:00Elementary, My Dear Watson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN6QMgXGhazTmuBiiD6nPzAC9uMBAgoY_X1bQNo5lW9igbEdeuvf0kg8sJU0HkL8YV4QC2yXk195IWbfxcC1uuFGx0QBhMAJvkjUSoTdhpi4ZAmUC-En2LYc3xR4DcLrOxx7c7IPujNgc/s1600/IMG_0513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN6QMgXGhazTmuBiiD6nPzAC9uMBAgoY_X1bQNo5lW9igbEdeuvf0kg8sJU0HkL8YV4QC2yXk195IWbfxcC1uuFGx0QBhMAJvkjUSoTdhpi4ZAmUC-En2LYc3xR4DcLrOxx7c7IPujNgc/s640/IMG_0513.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Meet Dr Watson, the cutest alpaca cria (baby) in Cape Town. His affectionate nature has won many hearts of friends and family of my dad and Merle. Their indigenous garden on the mountainside is home to a few alpacas. They are not all as sweet and tame as Dr Watson. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyLvlFOGCzg72yBc-8pJyMsZrFiGcwxoeuk_FlqQr-EFsGevdkfoAhsPyTsv4IfaOcyZdpW0B2nNUZwruGKS6UUGqNzFzZjK7h7uB3VrYPldYWU5l24X8DUytemTWSiCs9UeJlaOWbvjk/s1600/IMG_2464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyLvlFOGCzg72yBc-8pJyMsZrFiGcwxoeuk_FlqQr-EFsGevdkfoAhsPyTsv4IfaOcyZdpW0B2nNUZwruGKS6UUGqNzFzZjK7h7uB3VrYPldYWU5l24X8DUytemTWSiCs9UeJlaOWbvjk/s640/IMG_2464.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This is some of Dr Watson's third grade fibre from his first shearing. His blanket is a rose-grey colour, varying from pale grey to deep chocolate brown. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikeXd557wQLUGICdy16RL-cuAZQIQ4Gi5dZVX7mSeZxcXww5bvie_IVUn3IVArZUCpDdq5T16usFz0l6WsKhk_2W6jq2iYfnm8nCKiFZeib96CTUlHmKyDhnh7cdUIwsnPDnUjRa8Tsug/s1600/IMG_2450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikeXd557wQLUGICdy16RL-cuAZQIQ4Gi5dZVX7mSeZxcXww5bvie_IVUn3IVArZUCpDdq5T16usFz0l6WsKhk_2W6jq2iYfnm8nCKiFZeib96CTUlHmKyDhnh7cdUIwsnPDnUjRa8Tsug/s640/IMG_2450.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
I love my dad's studio. A few months ago I set out to spin some of Dr Watson's fibre on their lovely Ashford Traditional spinning wheel which is different to my wheel at home.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR41t1sdbU6kMR4qLqu3_l6f49E6WQlCSwtKPtrN_aHphJji90LBAC5pxfqLXnbj1WlJft9WrjrbxaCzh93Ze8dugG-fN8xljD8bjVetHF-NhGsC_MdRgI_fl47wHZlaquRPMP18kUkH0/s1600/IMG_2475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR41t1sdbU6kMR4qLqu3_l6f49E6WQlCSwtKPtrN_aHphJji90LBAC5pxfqLXnbj1WlJft9WrjrbxaCzh93Ze8dugG-fN8xljD8bjVetHF-NhGsC_MdRgI_fl47wHZlaquRPMP18kUkH0/s640/IMG_2475.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
While I spun, my dad painted in oils that day and we listened to classical music. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZlm3-YagYL1JEENHxN9PMhwnOkL2II3q4eswkrnufkjKOm6L-DAia0hYiqXud9M9NIxJwCtGPedSleaFxTFzF1rlmZpsHDZcRCkZZG5edaLHwBP339TCOpiRJ2uank-IFlSnZ3G6p_Ao/s1600/IMG_2473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZlm3-YagYL1JEENHxN9PMhwnOkL2II3q4eswkrnufkjKOm6L-DAia0hYiqXud9M9NIxJwCtGPedSleaFxTFzF1rlmZpsHDZcRCkZZG5edaLHwBP339TCOpiRJ2uank-IFlSnZ3G6p_Ao/s640/IMG_2473.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Pickle, the parrot joined us and watched over the first oil painting ever painted by my son that day in the studio. Arran spent two inspiring days learning the skill of oil painting from his grandpa.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBFWHgqfpsq1-iCQfIhWzaod71_7qXEzzyCOmwCCNCJd7CRzYb4TzgLy92VT5bXUaL6jA_4UsKiqzdO_qjFI9l3cQratjRhkav3P5HWIkK9GrIJrNKwhy3HoErC6Nl2jugGGYUUQKxPA/s1600/IMG_2452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBFWHgqfpsq1-iCQfIhWzaod71_7qXEzzyCOmwCCNCJd7CRzYb4TzgLy92VT5bXUaL6jA_4UsKiqzdO_qjFI9l3cQratjRhkav3P5HWIkK9GrIJrNKwhy3HoErC6Nl2jugGGYUUQKxPA/s640/IMG_2452.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I sat in the corner spinning while my father and my son painted with classical music in the background, accompanied by a silent parrot. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1uRKh6jh9GSWnthq_EUSyueKdwtHTeyaBeOBBw71Omb0xaw3wYhFVxhvSPHLgGgYGaHoHwAc96pacn1uQb5ju4NwyNTclbpOQwEohdzvA_2_Jbw1TXBvooT4g-lvWqcYYaZ2CrcBR-dQ/s1600/IMG_2465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1uRKh6jh9GSWnthq_EUSyueKdwtHTeyaBeOBBw71Omb0xaw3wYhFVxhvSPHLgGgYGaHoHwAc96pacn1uQb5ju4NwyNTclbpOQwEohdzvA_2_Jbw1TXBvooT4g-lvWqcYYaZ2CrcBR-dQ/s640/IMG_2465.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This is the wobbly beginning of learning to spin Dr Watson's fibre which is very different to Lucy's merino fibre. It is also the beginning of learning to use a different wheel. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUfsm0L1e9HrifivCPlUxjA4MqDTn8wyEQ5dP-D5MeYiu2HwkjT_-riwi4uBZjOXqbytqzpQT6zx2xw3UW6q4FiE0-karAQIWpd9nkCWGfiX781bBkXt020qCH7a4Lja9UHevRtI69es/s1600/IMG_2647.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUfsm0L1e9HrifivCPlUxjA4MqDTn8wyEQ5dP-D5MeYiu2HwkjT_-riwi4uBZjOXqbytqzpQT6zx2xw3UW6q4FiE0-karAQIWpd9nkCWGfiX781bBkXt020qCH7a4Lja9UHevRtI69es/s640/IMG_2647.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
After a little practice it became easier to spin a more even single of Dr Watson's fibre. This darker portion of Dr Watson yarn is spun back on the farm on my own wheel. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfB-ulN2FnNCAscJ9EtTuwpH0EixW55NoYPbQ3RR1T7rL5ai-BYS4s6FQ9Csr0kl7BCpOzuEZKlNqeUvgDCJyStvCpfGBfweorUOR7QwtgjYUlAFV3Ny6eRFEp06dJtSpUWDo3jOWl1Uo/s1600/IMG_2737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfB-ulN2FnNCAscJ9EtTuwpH0EixW55NoYPbQ3RR1T7rL5ai-BYS4s6FQ9Csr0kl7BCpOzuEZKlNqeUvgDCJyStvCpfGBfweorUOR7QwtgjYUlAFV3Ny6eRFEp06dJtSpUWDo3jOWl1Uo/s320/IMG_2737.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Dr Watson's singles were fairly thick, so I plied them into a two-strand yarn. The natural variation in his blanket gave a barber-pole effect to some of the yarn. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Skmofe2y_pWsm1jObf_bm5oq4iTJ7kxfc0uanYEDU5-xQ6HR3pfcbRkQjziHr0U3CpmzbR-cINIXcluBsCNH6e0WSYKlGVVnktFZQyC0t1zX3VQOAUWkEtkGYwZfPHM4gG5vW7iFr9w/s1600/IMG_2742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Skmofe2y_pWsm1jObf_bm5oq4iTJ7kxfc0uanYEDU5-xQ6HR3pfcbRkQjziHr0U3CpmzbR-cINIXcluBsCNH6e0WSYKlGVVnktFZQyC0t1zX3VQOAUWkEtkGYwZfPHM4gG5vW7iFr9w/s400/IMG_2742.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This is the bouncy-soft double-plied skein of Dr Watson's yarn. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGdOlq889F8XiAoSFRLS15-f4uxDSkYlK-nt1an8Ym7Rk942xo-jUHczwsuo-ssk5O27sWDWJenSWMCBVGgur6u6lGnFvk9XErloSRWg-ckO3_VNjGWQJTwtRr1yBMeIOc_5C-ZyGz0RI/s1600/IMG_2752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGdOlq889F8XiAoSFRLS15-f4uxDSkYlK-nt1an8Ym7Rk942xo-jUHczwsuo-ssk5O27sWDWJenSWMCBVGgur6u6lGnFvk9XErloSRWg-ckO3_VNjGWQJTwtRr1yBMeIOc_5C-ZyGz0RI/s400/IMG_2752.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I washed the skein to set the twist and hung it in the bathroom to dry. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVnrw3pQKaxNGtWEDR57pK5zGmMWdzcxocCcINWHcYuHjPqRyQYlrdaEhiLa2dR4Jm9oPF7-WrH1LhvVwRIj9XsbkRkJYI9cX_zokZ_PrGTQiZ_COxslpQchRscdSILiFezvKw9dzK18/s1600/IMG_2755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVnrw3pQKaxNGtWEDR57pK5zGmMWdzcxocCcINWHcYuHjPqRyQYlrdaEhiLa2dR4Jm9oPF7-WrH1LhvVwRIj9XsbkRkJYI9cX_zokZ_PrGTQiZ_COxslpQchRscdSILiFezvKw9dzK18/s640/IMG_2755.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The skein is 82m long and 118g of luxurious bulky squishy soft alpaca yarn. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJXTUFrMgU-5v0tC_z1v3XUd7Te-miT4bLM8sHutwXAy6xHUx4eTc-OYkbK7SUaPOzp1mzuImTjdzk1-FNtR8DYWCLWUVQvsqCkTXzYpCT3pbsDuPlAixJ7uxVIehRxSrYja6PJfMw0K4/s1600/IMG_3011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJXTUFrMgU-5v0tC_z1v3XUd7Te-miT4bLM8sHutwXAy6xHUx4eTc-OYkbK7SUaPOzp1mzuImTjdzk1-FNtR8DYWCLWUVQvsqCkTXzYpCT3pbsDuPlAixJ7uxVIehRxSrYja6PJfMw0K4/s400/IMG_3011.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The skein rolled into a beautiful big ball for knitting. I used a circular needle and knitted over a few evenings sitting in the lounge with my farm men. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQv5PMrmEWP07GhOzuwg_JS3JAHsm8inii-KX7zpxKdIVvBIzKIq_2WPtpSG_0Exy-QNERomIWSqL6-ipNbcnegMckHD3E34GSU-jtx-_MXLLgtsItl0DFlLp-y47b-VrsQ0pdkXb9vnY/s1600/IMG_3046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQv5PMrmEWP07GhOzuwg_JS3JAHsm8inii-KX7zpxKdIVvBIzKIq_2WPtpSG_0Exy-QNERomIWSqL6-ipNbcnegMckHD3E34GSU-jtx-_MXLLgtsItl0DFlLp-y47b-VrsQ0pdkXb9vnY/s640/IMG_3046.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I found just the right pattern to knit up a beanie to make the most of the plushy warmth of the yarn. The pattern is the <a href="http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/gridiron-hat">Gridiron Hat by Argyle Sheep</a> on the knitting and crochet website, Ravelry. Thankfully the yarn was enough. All I have left is 12g. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgUE2Dc8oEqVz9GjhIZ0AkU7o9p63HnXmHhcUDjsrGQacSx5tma0QCRFA2AXlZEISoDit1Gf-nqTlYGugbrX3_xB3Y8kda1cxHPFp4MO1GbZvqA8-XIrsBl-WT-MewLm0HI1VEXmfs00o/s1600/IMG_3050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgUE2Dc8oEqVz9GjhIZ0AkU7o9p63HnXmHhcUDjsrGQacSx5tma0QCRFA2AXlZEISoDit1Gf-nqTlYGugbrX3_xB3Y8kda1cxHPFp4MO1GbZvqA8-XIrsBl-WT-MewLm0HI1VEXmfs00o/s640/IMG_3050.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The beanie is warm and super soft and snug. I love the way the lighter fibre ended up on the brim. It is a satisfying thing to journey with fibre all the way from a snuggly greeting from Dr Watson to wearing a Dr Watson Beanie on my head. So my first journey from fibre to finished product was, surprisingly, not with Lucy Lamb's first fleece. I still have a long way to go preparing all of Lucy's fleece for spinning. It has been great fun to dabble in a bit of alpaca spinning in the meantime. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPdP68FD4kJv3l7IvDIyqlSNmmdekpIlMXVyXM6kVADuBkTHxZ3Of8c-wEmvH3dOQESOm2kDVaWmxjI0fz7sGHQRToZVmoylUwj80kVz7csIvaC0bYxsBTyyPnRuQNXCoWjL58MqHszo/s1600/IMG_1048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPdP68FD4kJv3l7IvDIyqlSNmmdekpIlMXVyXM6kVADuBkTHxZ3Of8c-wEmvH3dOQESOm2kDVaWmxjI0fz7sGHQRToZVmoylUwj80kVz7csIvaC0bYxsBTyyPnRuQNXCoWjL58MqHszo/s640/IMG_1048.JPG" width="640" /> </a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Its much as I love it, it is not for me to keep. I wrapped it up and sent it to my dad to keep warm in the Cape winter; to remember me; to enjoy precious Dr Watson's fibre as a hat; to remember that day in his studio where three generations created art alongside a parrot; when Beethoven was playing; and we were happy. </div>
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-80422694568231097752016-02-19T08:39:00.000-08:002016-02-19T08:39:05.531-08:00Lucy's First Fleece - Part 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA62EqWqrMtI8Vchl5LR5v366QgyVXnYoYzfRcaH2X9RXRLh2y0d0mJyML2okZdSWfw6Ju0RjsrBgS71TUG7VUHNqQuRw0xunRZAeUg2CRcv_vsu_gsnr55SXLMhuyW8vW1ZczQqe5tOQ/s1600/IMG_1413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA62EqWqrMtI8Vchl5LR5v366QgyVXnYoYzfRcaH2X9RXRLh2y0d0mJyML2okZdSWfw6Ju0RjsrBgS71TUG7VUHNqQuRw0xunRZAeUg2CRcv_vsu_gsnr55SXLMhuyW8vW1ZczQqe5tOQ/s640/IMG_1413.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
Since mastering the basics of spinning, and loving every moment, I have been experimenting with the inferior bits of my precious Lucy's fleece.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxDT8KjKABStRd7GxxNA1R9kapP42P_eBOOrp3z5-H4E9rEppTXVOK5L0Yzx_ok45NB24NxUvDKvu0VuPH3v8bSgFUc4EtLcDXZLUoy5fCEP9VHouLZHrNZjBfrqkWP3daT-o1cuoZVt4/s1600/IMG_2701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxDT8KjKABStRd7GxxNA1R9kapP42P_eBOOrp3z5-H4E9rEppTXVOK5L0Yzx_ok45NB24NxUvDKvu0VuPH3v8bSgFUc4EtLcDXZLUoy5fCEP9VHouLZHrNZjBfrqkWP3daT-o1cuoZVt4/s640/IMG_2701.JPG" width="512" /></a></div>
<br />
By the time I reach the best wool, I will hopefully have discovered the easiest way to wash the locks without felting them; pick out the vegetable matter without leaving tiny spiky bits to be spun into the yarn; comb or card the softest fibres and spin the loveliest type of wool.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaJx3HI3w5Dg3TeaSBf2hyphenhyphendYxlSsac00rn9Wg95GfN5jq0hvqXnokoMVqDZjGFHNmbOWzo1DeeI5SYXE9sUtL0nxLGO1HzPkTsyBfmNRiJNYq6JZUhm2qWOSZRMsjZfCGqu1edaEeXYo/s1600/IMG_2698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaJx3HI3w5Dg3TeaSBf2hyphenhyphendYxlSsac00rn9Wg95GfN5jq0hvqXnokoMVqDZjGFHNmbOWzo1DeeI5SYXE9sUtL0nxLGO1HzPkTsyBfmNRiJNYq6JZUhm2qWOSZRMsjZfCGqu1edaEeXYo/s640/IMG_2698.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
I have spun 'in the grease' where the lanolin stays in, but so does the mud. I have washed the fleece so squeaky clean that it feels chalky to the touch. I have combed the fibres into the airiest puffs of lock which I have spun individually into a shinty smooth semi worsted yarn and I have carded clouds of rolags which spin into a fluffy woollen yarn... all this on one bobbin. </div>
<div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwbvzRBsemN272Ilq-VdZxiOyTJe1ThT3C4gZ9ha7vsfPeAxcJl6mlqbLy174XgbJcpBKT5gNoM17ZL2nEo8nJiX7FXXTb5L3MBDrbPLBhNSUc8Svudmtdfv5Nqk0NnqDKqXKm5vc51w/s1600/IMG_2725.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwbvzRBsemN272Ilq-VdZxiOyTJe1ThT3C4gZ9ha7vsfPeAxcJl6mlqbLy174XgbJcpBKT5gNoM17ZL2nEo8nJiX7FXXTb5L3MBDrbPLBhNSUc8Svudmtdfv5Nqk0NnqDKqXKm5vc51w/s640/IMG_2725.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Most importantly, my skill is slowly improving as I am spinning a little more evenly each time I try. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Decadent Dad turned two drop spindles on the lathe for spinning on the trot. The first, most beautiful one is rather heavy and rests on the floor while I spin 'park and draft' style, but the second is a dream to spin 'on the fly'. </div>
<div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsR5IyiKb7lGgNvMjtQvW4YU_Go2d5_MNmYG5y3o8VOffzTwaQQliYEKDaw-p_EPWWbIliJlLjH8lCargfakgS0lrjKuJLMnWyph0F5pEoaEoO3Er_iMWoVN5eeOF9c_IXbrIPTvAKMuU/s1600/IMG_2702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsR5IyiKb7lGgNvMjtQvW4YU_Go2d5_MNmYG5y3o8VOffzTwaQQliYEKDaw-p_EPWWbIliJlLjH8lCargfakgS0lrjKuJLMnWyph0F5pEoaEoO3Er_iMWoVN5eeOF9c_IXbrIPTvAKMuU/s640/IMG_2702.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
</div>
<div>
The unspinnable (is that a word) fleece is fun to play with. Two delightful little girls and I have made felt balls which we dyed with food colouring and then threaded into Rainbow Lucy Necklaces.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WNAAabW7vFsaLNY5HFlsa5vViiLK5iCp4wnypYYq0dLvdGrBWNktg178Bcc-iKBcw8OMLzvrHu6LS_Ub6VQN7L253jHrHsXZ4XPdtm1A8QvJOsARzswSTduSYsoNUaseUF76cHIBB8Y/s1600/IMG_2342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WNAAabW7vFsaLNY5HFlsa5vViiLK5iCp4wnypYYq0dLvdGrBWNktg178Bcc-iKBcw8OMLzvrHu6LS_Ub6VQN7L253jHrHsXZ4XPdtm1A8QvJOsARzswSTduSYsoNUaseUF76cHIBB8Y/s640/IMG_2342.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
It was a lovely opportunity for learning the names of colours in English and Sesotho, opposites like wet/dry, dark/light, rough/smooth and counting words in both languages.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv71cC3SROOYL-m2p1SvoqLhPQmP03qGuwUk80eyVjQC-PP7J2AdTnAjJUHSXHIvfTjyOC72Z4D_Qe42mpTdNKI4iONWuH1jN9aHq5tzmH9H-1jq0IWZ86MZE3DORLDwZ84_tl3UkAW6Y/s1600/IMG_2704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv71cC3SROOYL-m2p1SvoqLhPQmP03qGuwUk80eyVjQC-PP7J2AdTnAjJUHSXHIvfTjyOC72Z4D_Qe42mpTdNKI4iONWuH1jN9aHq5tzmH9H-1jq0IWZ86MZE3DORLDwZ84_tl3UkAW6Y/s640/IMG_2704.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I also experimented with home made mulberry dye.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJUDLEqJ7fiUC_a4Q0bdSmbQD9ojY1KgENDd4jIUE3mg4gttc9PXoIpkmniy7iymxNeWRntOb0QTDqrxGTl4vxOTKMW-UC3kZhGrhuP30KbhZcnXV4i7Ck36XOvQQLhgNc5Z8dlWXa-o/s1600/IMG_2302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJUDLEqJ7fiUC_a4Q0bdSmbQD9ojY1KgENDd4jIUE3mg4gttc9PXoIpkmniy7iymxNeWRntOb0QTDqrxGTl4vxOTKMW-UC3kZhGrhuP30KbhZcnXV4i7Ck36XOvQQLhgNc5Z8dlWXa-o/s640/IMG_2302.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1Jxa_ZhsCV-6X-JlXm2OtDaqswOslRpboE1x8XGp34c8sD7TpxnvdjrQR5SMsnfTK_s4Fx9NZvFqDGu6Wt709kmp_W7YdsZOb2h3ZgAGOANCg8iu8rQD3kFC5b7pKWJD5btjrw_fB7Y/s1600/IMG_2304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1Jxa_ZhsCV-6X-JlXm2OtDaqswOslRpboE1x8XGp34c8sD7TpxnvdjrQR5SMsnfTK_s4Fx9NZvFqDGu6Wt709kmp_W7YdsZOb2h3ZgAGOANCg8iu8rQD3kFC5b7pKWJD5btjrw_fB7Y/s640/IMG_2304.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
The resultant pinky felt looks like carpet-underfelt. I haven't found a use for it yet but, in true Elastic Mom style, I will. </div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADuzDwIc4aEHtyb7rGnxQJxI1iioNwNNBORpjGmHs2kfg8Uq9SlP_s63aBOKFgyAlpfXUZ8k8VsV2o0YUvWFSCO8dIMUy6Ff2Q1q6xo12Vqoi3KEXV1NWnCo8NmZF_EenNxG8Jb8feuM/s1600/IMG_2324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADuzDwIc4aEHtyb7rGnxQJxI1iioNwNNBORpjGmHs2kfg8Uq9SlP_s63aBOKFgyAlpfXUZ8k8VsV2o0YUvWFSCO8dIMUy6Ff2Q1q6xo12Vqoi3KEXV1NWnCo8NmZF_EenNxG8Jb8feuM/s640/IMG_2324.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div>
An internet exploration led to my discovery of the craft of needle felting which has the potential to produce magnificent works of art. I managed to create a simple little flower with my sharp felting needles and some Waldorf-dyed fleece.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoP0B1KwOR2nUW4h2mckanh7CBdYllygsPYnv9II80eA9JvOncW9qkg4LDoNsHv0aX63VcaPHwNvhbPTFC-aLuR_9iiJYgRM7jxtJiqUpgdzbgYTCPIWp0oIKZwDfHE3D7pm2DA96pxEA/s1600/IMG_2366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoP0B1KwOR2nUW4h2mckanh7CBdYllygsPYnv9II80eA9JvOncW9qkg4LDoNsHv0aX63VcaPHwNvhbPTFC-aLuR_9iiJYgRM7jxtJiqUpgdzbgYTCPIWp0oIKZwDfHE3D7pm2DA96pxEA/s640/IMG_2366.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now I am ready to start with the superior sections of Lucy's fleece. Last weekend I washed half of it. I am in no hurry. A little sorting here, combing there and spinning when I can and eventually I will have enough wool to knit into something lovely. I find the whole process relaxing and after all these years I understand the nursery rhyme my mother taught me as a child:<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCi_zknEnXHElL1Xis4rfeJNe6nQ8ahUIG7RdLtCvSbv4NktoqAtrqZgfgRUUBxuUjfohPJvLpi6fIqMrtwwus7Vprdrt22GErdNCQiRYK9HsFCMSq5FtisfK8j-wAODThVM0fo9aUoxQ/s1600/IMG_2764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCi_zknEnXHElL1Xis4rfeJNe6nQ8ahUIG7RdLtCvSbv4NktoqAtrqZgfgRUUBxuUjfohPJvLpi6fIqMrtwwus7Vprdrt22GErdNCQiRYK9HsFCMSq5FtisfK8j-wAODThVM0fo9aUoxQ/s640/IMG_2764.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Cross Patch draw the latch</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Sit by the fire and spin</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Take a cup and drink it up</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Then call the neighbours in</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-48434781532625632272016-01-08T03:34:00.003-08:002016-01-08T03:34:37.298-08:00Lucy's First Fleece - Part 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbyipsMvc4uXmP_n4dsDUWwyh1bof35YCAY0d181IgAX5ZXTKH3uOErAxpyjdMKJcvd_DKi8kmDx-XYgTZYx1fcxwQNAHn-wXFgyW10XhIVK2TsbjHKKehkV3_DRoi_bRt-4fU3tQJxjk/s1600/IMG_9899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbyipsMvc4uXmP_n4dsDUWwyh1bof35YCAY0d181IgAX5ZXTKH3uOErAxpyjdMKJcvd_DKi8kmDx-XYgTZYx1fcxwQNAHn-wXFgyW10XhIVK2TsbjHKKehkV3_DRoi_bRt-4fU3tQJxjk/s640/IMG_9899.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
A little of Lucy's first fleece was washed and waiting to be spun. I teased out some locks and brushed them into fluffy clouds, called rolags, using my hand carders. The carders are flat brushes covered in bent pins. They separate the fibres in the locks of wool to enable them to be smoothly drafted into wool yarn during spinning. Using the carders took a little practice before I could produce rolags without clashing the pins together in a tooth-jarring, spine-grating way.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia70uAsqs_J_d1i0m2BZcsO5jqYo5GF9JflOf2KZ9pLR8WTT6EKAuo4JOq_zsiZRB2ew05pQGDscbZSgx49WieY2B05AP0OTMhmWlEeP0rOg6s64cczVTRJ16UKLCBXxyyD0vDTi7I_0M/s1600/IMG_2284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia70uAsqs_J_d1i0m2BZcsO5jqYo5GF9JflOf2KZ9pLR8WTT6EKAuo4JOq_zsiZRB2ew05pQGDscbZSgx49WieY2B05AP0OTMhmWlEeP0rOg6s64cczVTRJ16UKLCBXxyyD0vDTi7I_0M/s640/IMG_2284.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The spinning wheel was set up, oiled and ready to run. I had watched countless YouTube videos on the art of spinning. I had practiced winding a ball of cerise pink acrylic yarn onto and off the bobbin successfully. So I sat down at my spinning wheel one evening, palms a little sweaty, ready to begin the real thing. It took a few false starts to get the wool fibres to twist successfully around a starter piece of yarn wrapped around the bobbin, but then I was off and away, pumping my feet vigorously and watching the fibres twist and wind away from my fingers and onto the bobbin.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDWZ_yi0Xy_assB3SHdI99iRqQVZceKLEQcbUnMb5U8tL8zyWXHFG6jq29fTOuQPDS5FEOAHAXmXG3x6RCnSD9PRv9Pw-TinqcHn_kggNnCjoZoTy6Ix5_3L5dJfHaRFsJ7vlYZy5Tdxw/s1600/IMG_2305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDWZ_yi0Xy_assB3SHdI99iRqQVZceKLEQcbUnMb5U8tL8zyWXHFG6jq29fTOuQPDS5FEOAHAXmXG3x6RCnSD9PRv9Pw-TinqcHn_kggNnCjoZoTy6Ix5_3L5dJfHaRFsJ7vlYZy5Tdxw/s640/IMG_2305.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
Just as I was getting the feel for the process, the wheel ground to a halt and I had to use my right hand which was supposed to be controlling the twist in the fibre to get it turning in a clockwise direction while my feet pedalled as rhythmically as I could manage. My uncoordinated hands fumbled the fibres a bit until they started spinning again and then the wheel stopped. After trying repeatedly to keep the wheel turning and the yarn forming, my hands moving in rhythm with my feet, I crossly noticed Decadent Dad laughing at me as he watched from the corner of his eye. Red faced and muttering under my breath, I snapped at him while the yarn snapped in my fingers. If this was spinning I hated it and I couldn't do it. It was difficult and tedious and frustrating. What a wasted birthday present and now I was overcommitted with this enormous fleece and all this expectation to do something creative with it!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOMevl5HJoqCh3Dcr9iLdvE6HZZmG6Q8Mk3ElVeL2EP0hTMSfceFxOMGIehQ6m7sqlZHMSx-ZwAZLOcMpS9_kxhiJdczGCFTMWkdNu7DFi1c6E65ICignBj9CJUG_HLqS8dW1yB7aNJPM/s1600/IMG_2077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOMevl5HJoqCh3Dcr9iLdvE6HZZmG6Q8Mk3ElVeL2EP0hTMSfceFxOMGIehQ6m7sqlZHMSx-ZwAZLOcMpS9_kxhiJdczGCFTMWkdNu7DFi1c6E65ICignBj9CJUG_HLqS8dW1yB7aNJPM/s640/IMG_2077.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Decadent Dad, in a moment of pity, investigated the spinning wheel and declared that he could help me, which he did. The following day he ground down the too-tight axle so that it would turn smoothly in its hub, re-oiled the wheel and so I was willing to try again. This time the spinning wheel behaved as the fluff of fleece in my left hand twisted through the fingers of my right hand and wound their way onto the bobbin, forming my first real length of single ply woollen yarn.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF0a0UOCS14ltuVoG5fWUrCSeqt1ezffwu-Y8By8lz-bRaxJ_xC8B1ft3Vl-SstT9EBnvD4Pb-rYPLiLRgUXf3qVTiB6ZDBcMEz_OkJEcLUH3Naw9K9K51vH-tp3HLHWHP211k5uS4dEE/s1600/IMG_2311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF0a0UOCS14ltuVoG5fWUrCSeqt1ezffwu-Y8By8lz-bRaxJ_xC8B1ft3Vl-SstT9EBnvD4Pb-rYPLiLRgUXf3qVTiB6ZDBcMEz_OkJEcLUH3Naw9K9K51vH-tp3HLHWHP211k5uS4dEE/s640/IMG_2311.JPG" width="640" /></a> I was ecstatic. The more I tried, the easier it became. I had managed to make the beginning of something looking like wool. It was thick in places and thin in other places, sometime overtwisted, but it was a beautiful continuous strand. This was starting to get exciting. My fickle feelings forgot the previous night's despondency.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiaLwkGiwf4ovXq5dUi5AAJm8FGPoqhxU0w15b2_1dos9ADc1so0kIXAPEFF8eT1tmLjK0Voi7DUKoeNCJ6_3jwhv9BmTfijrky9vggUgFvD6l7nShjNKp6eV941DRoABs6rty4icKL98/s1600/IMG_2309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiaLwkGiwf4ovXq5dUi5AAJm8FGPoqhxU0w15b2_1dos9ADc1so0kIXAPEFF8eT1tmLjK0Voi7DUKoeNCJ6_3jwhv9BmTfijrky9vggUgFvD6l7nShjNKp6eV941DRoABs6rty4icKL98/s640/IMG_2309.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
I can spin.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Spinning is fun.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I have a whole fleece to spin.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Will I have enough wool to make something lovely?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Lucy is the best sheep in the world.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZgLdVtUoyAU-TMIjo9NVellGvRxE-8CzNa5T_zvz6tJNkLPxzef3fd7A1wOgVrNVW8lzR5yrSAZDmTxgPjNZfzuFTyCXAIrgA5SBCPwTpLZchLudM3qNgWftKn656f3-0ClioWB1LCg4/s1600/IMG_6834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZgLdVtUoyAU-TMIjo9NVellGvRxE-8CzNa5T_zvz6tJNkLPxzef3fd7A1wOgVrNVW8lzR5yrSAZDmTxgPjNZfzuFTyCXAIrgA5SBCPwTpLZchLudM3qNgWftKn656f3-0ClioWB1LCg4/s640/IMG_6834.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
.... to be continued</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-9663183937850147492015-12-04T11:06:00.001-08:002015-12-04T11:25:58.010-08:00Lucy's First Fleece - Part 2<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBuz4i1vNrnjzH88JgHZ3RU4YyaJYva1x4ffIV1Qu4aYCBvc2P48OuJSXbZztGr49LZjWk4zFN9_RiRMmlYMvPIRvtGJVFof99uWl-e85ZYRVxaLNHT7jLW7PE-Cd6qgpwaXOxwkbOxI/s1600/IMG_0778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBuz4i1vNrnjzH88JgHZ3RU4YyaJYva1x4ffIV1Qu4aYCBvc2P48OuJSXbZztGr49LZjWk4zFN9_RiRMmlYMvPIRvtGJVFof99uWl-e85ZYRVxaLNHT7jLW7PE-Cd6qgpwaXOxwkbOxI/s640/IMG_0778.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";">I left Lucy's newly shorn fleece in its bag for a week or so while I
gathered up courage to deal with it. I researched all the many ways of washing a raw fleece. Every web site that I visited had different advice for exactly how to clean the fleece. My initially simple flow chart had become rather convoluted and confusing by the time I closed my computer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<br />
<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/AVvXsEhUapfHeppaoai2vfJNxR8TIItEhzYiObuanBBB6pRtF5hy3wrsVbF2XUytVgiDQtCuh1G66WmpS9XrnDa_T-vsZ-W5LtQR_rAEqx6nYbOLflCibPl80_XNN1rlOMqiR29ikhyOe_y6eUQ/s1600/IMG_2072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUapfHeppaoai2vfJNxR8TIItEhzYiObuanBBB6pRtF5hy3wrsVbF2XUytVgiDQtCuh1G66WmpS9XrnDa_T-vsZ-W5LtQR_rAEqx6nYbOLflCibPl80_XNN1rlOMqiR29ikhyOe_y6eUQ/s640/IMG_2072.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best advice of the lot was, "Enjoy the Process"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times";">Unrolled, the fleece stretched across the table-tennis table in the sun room. Ideally a fleece should be skirted outdoors, but I needed to protect it from my dogs and the wind. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEf9jt_1Gxpa97ghA7HcvR0rVqJ9L_oWO1V0jwewdd1589iFy_a1uc72zIPa-M5bUUWXjMlldVzJIy1fZeFukPIpGcp6-3Q_Ft5y0s5StVBg_5HhVGOBVQIDnYLwm7oJBQKwJEhj4ZsQ8/s1600/IMG_2071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEf9jt_1Gxpa97ghA7HcvR0rVqJ9L_oWO1V0jwewdd1589iFy_a1uc72zIPa-M5bUUWXjMlldVzJIy1fZeFukPIpGcp6-3Q_Ft5y0s5StVBg_5HhVGOBVQIDnYLwm7oJBQKwJEhj4ZsQ8/s640/IMG_2071.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times";">It was enormous and a bit
smelly. It smelled like sheep. A fleece is divided into different quality wool depending which part of the sheep it comes from. Obviously the worst fleece is closer to the legs and tail end of the sheep, while the longest, cleanest locks are around the shoulder area. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJrpYFla8BvEFdlqNtnPYyonVVE7FaYlkc4owZvUChyphenhyphen7BsPJHihyqiKtL7hisbYbtnxepYXBUpYT76FnvEqpsl9pxIIEpHqdopyhwEzPem_DBJu8VKMyG-XTuPsJFJpXRHg-Zu33EwOA/s1600/IMG_2070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJrpYFla8BvEFdlqNtnPYyonVVE7FaYlkc4owZvUChyphenhyphen7BsPJHihyqiKtL7hisbYbtnxepYXBUpYT76FnvEqpsl9pxIIEpHqdopyhwEzPem_DBJu8VKMyG-XTuPsJFJpXRHg-Zu33EwOA/s640/IMG_2070.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"> It was full of bits of black jacks, fine dried
grass, mud, lanolin and even some sheep poop. </span></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20K1c3_brGVDCTxkNjBaiZ07b5SEw4cqGSrvuB2OjOYvuaTLo8BcJFtA7fwF2zmR4RwyVY6G0ny1Pki0UBaVjcq00ZlZKHj_omxuonP-p2To4ii2KirzBWmA0pfOhMpz6VJfCTOSh5Zs/s1600/IMG_2073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20K1c3_brGVDCTxkNjBaiZ07b5SEw4cqGSrvuB2OjOYvuaTLo8BcJFtA7fwF2zmR4RwyVY6G0ny1Pki0UBaVjcq00ZlZKHj_omxuonP-p2To4ii2KirzBWmA0pfOhMpz6VJfCTOSh5Zs/s640/IMG_2073.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times";">I picked over a few locks of wool
and left them soaking in a bucket for a week. All that happened was that the remaining black-jacks germinated. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUDHF0mY86-NatakPcFfMyP7TkzVtgtSBwyjgSbOGmOOmTgGX3sKNuN4uphM_PvvypVwYEyHL_NJJd4_E2MWIsdjbZqrwTnHRlqew0r85IQJYDef3y_V8qzISTSFBTu5NVXi4Zj8ABL0U/s1600/IMG_2078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUDHF0mY86-NatakPcFfMyP7TkzVtgtSBwyjgSbOGmOOmTgGX3sKNuN4uphM_PvvypVwYEyHL_NJJd4_E2MWIsdjbZqrwTnHRlqew0r85IQJYDef3y_V8qzISTSFBTu5NVXi4Zj8ABL0U/s640/IMG_2078.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times";">Overwhelmed, I directed my attention to my
birthday-present Ashford Kiwi spinning wheel, still in pieces in its box. My son and husband enthusiastically joined me in Project Assembly. We spent an afternoon
putting it together ... halfway. I decided to first wax the wood before it was set up. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCsah9CHL3exr_uwVUVqQp0l1pTIXLlKd7HL6dt_zML3Oafjbf3fQt15-2NtGTeo9OIlpN8qCRDBuFJhdL9yec9R7wtu3emVsx-yE9MYNf_sctLbyWGhKxMPZbp7T42TqqYmS9G5_Y2g0/s1600/IMG_1928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCsah9CHL3exr_uwVUVqQp0l1pTIXLlKd7HL6dt_zML3Oafjbf3fQt15-2NtGTeo9OIlpN8qCRDBuFJhdL9yec9R7wtu3emVsx-yE9MYNf_sctLbyWGhKxMPZbp7T42TqqYmS9G5_Y2g0/s640/IMG_1928.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";">Then we left it for a week while I researched
how to spin. I had already had two spinning lessons from the friend who sold me
the wheel. The first lesson was fairly successful, but I was all thumbs for the
second. Daunted by the idea of mastering my coordination, I turned my attention
back to the dirty fleece. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
I gathered up some small sections of the dirtiest poor grade fleece
and washed them as well as I could. It was inconsequential if I ruined it. I used hot soapy water and then clean warm water to rinse the locks. All the washing water went to the drought-stricken garden, so I only washed as much as I could fit into a bucket at a time. We all took turns carting buckets of water out to the rose bushes.<br />
<br />
<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/AVvXsEjpTOk3SC5ckxtewgIDV1IiCR-7t0tYdLWrsBIQlTEs6FzDLwRxJQm5Phl9L4d7x9oWG0f_JbTlYRVppauPhbRUYq-tpPzWAU76HuJ2L9lQhJX4trsYIwS2Ze7MA5gEge1alvlUbnFwkkk/s1600/IMG_2283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTOk3SC5ckxtewgIDV1IiCR-7t0tYdLWrsBIQlTEs6FzDLwRxJQm5Phl9L4d7x9oWG0f_JbTlYRVppauPhbRUYq-tpPzWAU76HuJ2L9lQhJX4trsYIwS2Ze7MA5gEge1alvlUbnFwkkk/s640/IMG_2283.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It is really easy to felt the locks of fleece together if you agitate them or change the temperature too quickly. So I was as gentle as possible. You can't spin felted wool. Once the washed fleece was dried it came up squeaky clean. I think, in my enthusiasm, I had scoured every last bit of lanolin out. Next time I wash fleece I will experiment with baby shampoo instead of dish washing detergent.<br />
<br />
<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/AVvXsEgYdswHzEId4TYGP7rw_gyMxsIZpp1GD9lG1dhM-JXW02vEdWMNgiHffIdv1GKvG5e28SfuqUA311Oqrh3UpVOBtsVZiMjseUYtEnih5VXdDiomSCqLQf47m1iuJbZzUrXJvEtwEk9J-uA/s1600/IMG_2286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdswHzEId4TYGP7rw_gyMxsIZpp1GD9lG1dhM-JXW02vEdWMNgiHffIdv1GKvG5e28SfuqUA311Oqrh3UpVOBtsVZiMjseUYtEnih5VXdDiomSCqLQf47m1iuJbZzUrXJvEtwEk9J-uA/s640/IMG_2286.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at the difference between dirty and clean fleece.<br />
Even after washing, there are still black-jacks to be picked out, and a few stains. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I am working really slowly though the fleece. Picking out the vegetable matter is very time consuming, I unsuccessfully tried washing it out but it seems the only way to do it is the tedious way. If you happen to visit for a cup of tea, you may just find me picking tufts of wool while we chat. That's what comes from having a sheep who thinks she is a pig. </span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mooka and Huckleberry are quite content for me to take all the time in the world to wash the fleece piece by piece. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihq10EbWnrirmTKzMFPeuZnBMJAg9FPiLqjNHTzAalMkRkSAeIT13k-H0ZQSf-_JAu0zqA8OrHyqBsynoDHjcsFInqG2ygQIn5Utd9EYhQB7ANt9mcrD-vLJaIRQyfklL4N5ShyJ6i8Pk/s1600/IMG_0825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihq10EbWnrirmTKzMFPeuZnBMJAg9FPiLqjNHTzAalMkRkSAeIT13k-H0ZQSf-_JAu0zqA8OrHyqBsynoDHjcsFInqG2ygQIn5Utd9EYhQB7ANt9mcrD-vLJaIRQyfklL4N5ShyJ6i8Pk/s640/IMG_0825.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
... to be continued</div>
<br /></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:DocumentProperties>
<o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template>
<o:Revision>0</o:Revision>
<o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime>
<o:Pages>1</o:Pages>
<o:Words>138</o:Words>
<o:Characters>790</o:Characters>
<o:Company>private</o:Company>
<o:Lines>6</o:Lines>
<o:Paragraphs>1</o:Paragraphs>
<o:CharactersWithSpaces>970</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
<o:Version>12.256</o:Version>
</o:DocumentProperties>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>
<w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>
<w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
</w:Compatibility>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276">
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-77047453545333762922015-11-15T07:45:00.001-08:002015-11-15T07:45:14.031-08:00Lucy's First Fleece - Part OneLast month's sheep shearing has spun me head over heels into a new world of neps and noils, niddy noddies, rolags, cards and combs. My mind is all in a twist over the creative possibilities now that I am the delighted owner of a fleece. A rather muddy, thorny fleece from our sheep-pig but a beautiful home-raised fleece nonetheless.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<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/AVvXsEg72YSm6GdPpLFC-UAjWheLi1uYjenJ6xjBc7ZvBHt9rpJSv3cYeG_q14Gbzcb8A-jnjR7c7Ilh_e2ElDVKOY21Lk6-lOXOmtugK_jinAEVyEuuFj3zj3G18J6VyJeWNVeg1udmpfFdmiY/s1600/IMG_2695.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg72YSm6GdPpLFC-UAjWheLi1uYjenJ6xjBc7ZvBHt9rpJSv3cYeG_q14Gbzcb8A-jnjR7c7Ilh_e2ElDVKOY21Lk6-lOXOmtugK_jinAEVyEuuFj3zj3G18J6VyJeWNVeg1udmpfFdmiY/s640/IMG_2695.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucy was a pathetic little baby lamb who spent many hours in my arms and under my jersey</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEhjuFg022E846DThe3GG0bOpyEDCOJvkuviLCB2ywOdLAoMSuX4JJKUMudy_aUHYofUkbX6pKNP7FvW9wx7f-FLso-AmvOSLseI-E7BhDWkOhWdghSqoK1MdrSUfnU1eMF3tONcnGFlGwQ/s1600/IMG_6833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjuFg022E846DThe3GG0bOpyEDCOJvkuviLCB2ywOdLAoMSuX4JJKUMudy_aUHYofUkbX6pKNP7FvW9wx7f-FLso-AmvOSLseI-E7BhDWkOhWdghSqoK1MdrSUfnU1eMF3tONcnGFlGwQ/s640/IMG_6833.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucy as a newborn lamb next to the fire</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<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/AVvXsEjaIBqxHx1L9oY3vLJg83GyzOuDdmpvieOpqdt23xMB4XlXxz2KvDVBZmsNJRubyeWTW_qBX4W5iV_eY7sQkGPNBbchPpZOPAEcZ1OvMpWlRBq-Cg1c_2q0sG2vzs_Kp5owlJbDD1PYeOo/s1600/IMG_7211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaIBqxHx1L9oY3vLJg83GyzOuDdmpvieOpqdt23xMB4XlXxz2KvDVBZmsNJRubyeWTW_qBX4W5iV_eY7sQkGPNBbchPpZOPAEcZ1OvMpWlRBq-Cg1c_2q0sG2vzs_Kp5owlJbDD1PYeOo/s640/IMG_7211.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucy was one of the dogs before she thought she was a pig</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<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/AVvXsEjLNwmWPXRM6wrycjObPdANRf9kqn-rbZwXy-blFl3AMWEOG3vLifeZFGIYEuEFpnv1936eaeQKQ2xLbyqsgamxzl7V0RWDaVG95rGrshYTwTiNsQHXxdxJtKo-cgY6pW1wIpDmA4RrWsc/s1600/IMG_7413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNwmWPXRM6wrycjObPdANRf9kqn-rbZwXy-blFl3AMWEOG3vLifeZFGIYEuEFpnv1936eaeQKQ2xLbyqsgamxzl7V0RWDaVG95rGrshYTwTiNsQHXxdxJtKo-cgY6pW1wIpDmA4RrWsc/s640/IMG_7413.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hope looking on while Lucy gets a bottle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Lucy the Lamb has grown from a tiny desperate orphan into a friendly fat sheep who thinks she is a pig. She follows the pigs as they do what pigs do, grazing alongside them as they snout for tasty roots, lying chewing her cud in the mud as they wallow in it. She bosses them around too, not hesitating to butt Winifred out of the way if the sow happens to be lying in Lucy's path. Once she gave them both a jolly good butting when they were so naughty as to venture out the gate. She has been known to cheekily step off the wall down onto Houdini's back and then onto the lawn.<br />
<br />
<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/AVvXsEiF1n8uQRWtbZfLf5lw4yt6wyLtXPU_j5B_PSdz7rsot2bGh5QeHqd8IBblVzf0UOsQev7SWYd6f6SnqwKhyVWx6I-lmtt36gzAzw6mH36P5nIJk45D_IXECjHREy07iOySSxz_jzoH5xw/s1600/IMG_8103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1n8uQRWtbZfLf5lw4yt6wyLtXPU_j5B_PSdz7rsot2bGh5QeHqd8IBblVzf0UOsQev7SWYd6f6SnqwKhyVWx6I-lmtt36gzAzw6mH36P5nIJk45D_IXECjHREy07iOySSxz_jzoH5xw/s640/IMG_8103.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucy and the pigs feasting on damaged fruit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<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/AVvXsEicayOEuoeNUkeDbdyfmwyJxOhFiyJDRZajF1DHiSv24q5quSx5w1IvWbNFZ32RXa2SzuYwzc4WnGueNoTlIQR1PdvY3SEaT9Jok0xXc_wuMZMnC5c-CLCw8-1xrjmoQalaZLk5v-44WOU/s1600/IMG_1359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicayOEuoeNUkeDbdyfmwyJxOhFiyJDRZajF1DHiSv24q5quSx5w1IvWbNFZ32RXa2SzuYwzc4WnGueNoTlIQR1PdvY3SEaT9Jok0xXc_wuMZMnC5c-CLCw8-1xrjmoQalaZLk5v-44WOU/s640/IMG_1359.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucy out walking on the farm with our friends and 5 dogs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Lucy is also the worst thief of the farmyard, regularly testing gates to see if she can sneak into the garden to steal blossoms off berry bushes and foliage from almond saplings.<br />
<br />
<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/AVvXsEjeWneUGSYUQCBTPrZ2bodt_drmt1dG5xNDZqmsfzO_9TohPCyA29J551YjnzXXeUzuisMzOviC9kLxdq1e2IsMV1hX8cMT06bAuyTHsXQbWVvrYKnyEGZPefh7OoT6oyUnyz6nruKc3NQ/s1600/IMG_1773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeWneUGSYUQCBTPrZ2bodt_drmt1dG5xNDZqmsfzO_9TohPCyA29J551YjnzXXeUzuisMzOviC9kLxdq1e2IsMV1hX8cMT06bAuyTHsXQbWVvrYKnyEGZPefh7OoT6oyUnyz6nruKc3NQ/s640/IMG_1773.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucy on her way to Shearing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Lucy was not as charmed as I was at the prospect of her shearing. My men hoisted her unceremoniously into the back of my car and drove her to the next door farm where the shearers had set up to clip their way through an enormous flock. Lucy waited patiently for her turn.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcOEvq3zlXegBLzJeKTGKgkFAe8SPlanb5SVSdfzAaPIHoUSsP1hbsCiQYoYQoVL5Oi8rHhqX-oz_hQ3pLchSOb3BbfepwR3WCONOW_TsezLozz0xEWF_MEzJ6UJjnoLVdR6wiF8sf0Ls/s1600/IMG_1777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcOEvq3zlXegBLzJeKTGKgkFAe8SPlanb5SVSdfzAaPIHoUSsP1hbsCiQYoYQoVL5Oi8rHhqX-oz_hQ3pLchSOb3BbfepwR3WCONOW_TsezLozz0xEWF_MEzJ6UJjnoLVdR6wiF8sf0Ls/s640/IMG_1777.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
With a dog collar around her neck she followed us obediently until suddenly she was flipped over onto her back and had to suffer the indignity of baring her belly to the woolly audience.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDBC-jQjHA0f3rrmsjDH5EaK15_cATopnHVmuoQhO8Aa58ZLObxgGWbxbDUb_rMSd4Xo4oudFiG_HYYKQs_9pXzOVRPIcvfJXRTlJcwUg31GWlTNHPq7b3gNFmyrEyx7eE3xcjiCHZJE/s1600/IMG_1781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDBC-jQjHA0f3rrmsjDH5EaK15_cATopnHVmuoQhO8Aa58ZLObxgGWbxbDUb_rMSd4Xo4oudFiG_HYYKQs_9pXzOVRPIcvfJXRTlJcwUg31GWlTNHPq7b3gNFmyrEyx7eE3xcjiCHZJE/s640/IMG_1781.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Once the shearing was over she gulped down mouthfuls of calming grass and then bleated her dismay all the way home. She soon settled down, tethered on the lawn, and grazed the until sunset as if nothing had changed in her world. Fearing a chill I dressed her in a large dog jacket and put her to bed for the night. By morning the jacket was off and Lucy was once again one of the pigs.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2yOvhnj6k1TL6teLJnbTiKqQfXvBg2ikBGSe_Ys1O2eisBFtK6qhHjJlv8QiizZQWoG4XyzaZ0ntsH2Ii5oVngUc05jdISBTTllDhZvj7-uoTwY4pxYlX3nX9wuKqOapFQDRkUAGLrsY/s1600/IMG_1797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2yOvhnj6k1TL6teLJnbTiKqQfXvBg2ikBGSe_Ys1O2eisBFtK6qhHjJlv8QiizZQWoG4XyzaZ0ntsH2Ii5oVngUc05jdISBTTllDhZvj7-uoTwY4pxYlX3nX9wuKqOapFQDRkUAGLrsY/s640/IMG_1797.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
As for me, I finally had my precious fleece. Lucy's first fleece. My daunting fleece. My intimidating fleece. I left it in its bag and went away for the weekend.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7Iya9OJqMzEfwGxiR8lsE1zwO-mVxSMGo52I54C_NGEsAeUtECj7QQYQIYQg8I9ojL7cKf99iBQ38Of2pZLdMMltHDQ3uOtQzzJjPHaIIkU-TATb450jxI5DoGeNWdABqQXL6Toxl1I/s1600/IMG_0780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7Iya9OJqMzEfwGxiR8lsE1zwO-mVxSMGo52I54C_NGEsAeUtECj7QQYQIYQg8I9ojL7cKf99iBQ38Of2pZLdMMltHDQ3uOtQzzJjPHaIIkU-TATb450jxI5DoGeNWdABqQXL6Toxl1I/s640/IMG_0780.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
... to be continued</div>
Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-45958360787945008582015-10-09T10:26:00.000-07:002015-10-09T10:28:08.905-07:00The More Things Change, the More They Stay the SameIts a warm spring evening. The air is scented with Syringa blossom. I am sitting on the verandah, music playing from the house accompanied by a chorus of cicadas, crickets and frogs. Decadent Dad is rattling pots and pans and producing some encouraging aromas from the kitchen. Friday night is Special Night around here, a tradition that he has kept for the last 15 years. I have the night off. He punctuates the end of his working week with a dinner cooked lovingly for our family and we usually watch a movie together. Family traditions are anchors that hold our hearts in unity and the security of our love.<br />
<br />
Our lives have changed dramatically over the last six months and then not at all.<br />
<br />
We still live in the beautiful stone house on a farm in the Free State. Our plans to move to Cape Town have been put on hold until the required doors open, if they open at all. So here we are, our cows sold, most of our chickens too. I did not sow heirloom seeds in polytrays in midwinter so there are very few exciting heirloom seedlings in our veggie tunnel, mostly just seedlings from last month's farmer's market . Our walls are bare. The paintings are in storage along with our fragile crockery which is wrapped and packed in boxes in Cape Town. We have stopped the market stall. Our journey has been painful and challenging at times, but I am learning again to be content with the here and now. Life here has a different flavour now.<br />
<br />
Along with the shift in our circumstances has come a shift in my priorities. My heart has shifted towards my role as wife and mother and keeper of my home. I have been more present physically and emotionally as I homeschool my son. I have caught up on tax admin and started to slowly tackle the years of accumulated clutter in our home. I have also, in true Elastic Mom style, embraced the challenge of providing nutritious meals for my family when the pantry has been lean at times. I have reevaluated our diet and lifestyle and most importantly have renewed my faith in the Lord.<br />
<br />
I have a new hope that regardless of where we live and how we live, we are secure in the loving arms of our heavenly Father.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEAH8jv8Y9sPax9ZgTNWwfss2Gup1lL2HIQbTkZHuIf4L-GM6DUnNe3sB2u4e9IEhvauPLcNkrx_rnxC8gmU2Z0Yvt7CDk_RY_ZP9FZbf-gJjWd8N3XCY-GiZPGiNSXq_KYA5VNFFrYM/s1600/IMG_1238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEAH8jv8Y9sPax9ZgTNWwfss2Gup1lL2HIQbTkZHuIf4L-GM6DUnNe3sB2u4e9IEhvauPLcNkrx_rnxC8gmU2Z0Yvt7CDk_RY_ZP9FZbf-gJjWd8N3XCY-GiZPGiNSXq_KYA5VNFFrYM/s640/IMG_1238.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-47068279159472079492015-04-13T02:21:00.002-07:002015-04-13T02:49:14.928-07:00Elastic Mom Stretching a Little Further<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2I2ehDOU1Fetwu4lqw2-Ij72fDVZKd2h7a1141yHiqmG9zSlA4E4kuDPymT5wgm8C5HY-BYSez1JcvnwEJbpFuLsKLC6WOJF0QpJzvegzK6BGVEU1bm66y-S5EQTATIOq-6AX70RVAPQ/s1600/IMG_8493.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2I2ehDOU1Fetwu4lqw2-Ij72fDVZKd2h7a1141yHiqmG9zSlA4E4kuDPymT5wgm8C5HY-BYSez1JcvnwEJbpFuLsKLC6WOJF0QpJzvegzK6BGVEU1bm66y-S5EQTATIOq-6AX70RVAPQ/s1600/IMG_8493.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The last day in April will mark the end of our sixth year on
this Free State farm. We have all grown and changed in this environment. Now we
are slowly preparing to move back to the Cape in a few months time. The
challenge for me, Elastic Mom, is to hold onto the lessons that I have learned,
and they are many. I hope to apply some of them, albeit modified, to a
completely different coastal lifestyle.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
For now, the task at hand is to continue to stretch my
resources and keep to my use-it-don’t-lose-it principles, and all the other
thrifty tools I have up my sleeve as we wrap up our farm life. Our four dogs
and two cats will be the only animals making the move with us. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtYF1FlDOkvfUmbb42w5WLB_63uE_oeCa7VRcTIPH8eDZ3KXho8sbTW3rzdqqrwuj408yrGZd1yvk8pojAycfga_rlv3rLqttBQAFvj6MJ3ALgQhp5ZWbRf9JRV2LrHUgv7wW5pKB2zUc/s1600/IMG_8839.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtYF1FlDOkvfUmbb42w5WLB_63uE_oeCa7VRcTIPH8eDZ3KXho8sbTW3rzdqqrwuj408yrGZd1yvk8pojAycfga_rlv3rLqttBQAFvj6MJ3ALgQhp5ZWbRf9JRV2LrHUgv7wW5pKB2zUc/s1600/IMG_8839.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This week we sold our last two Jersey cows, Hope and Rosie.
They went to join Joy at our friends’ farm. It is so hard letting go of my
precious girls, but I know they will be loved and well cared for in their new
home. This means the end of farmers markets for us for now, as we no longer
have copious amounts of cheese and butter. Had I known that we would be
leaving, I would have stored up butter and cream rather than selling it in
croissants and pannacottas. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are left with one bullock that was intended for beef;
grass fed, organic prime beef at its best. He will be making the trip to the
local butcher quite a bit earlier than planned, but will provide us with beef
that we can transport frozen and also sell to a few lucky people. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Winifred, our pig is pregnant and we will sell the piglets
when they are weaned, rather than raising them ourselves. Sausage, her brother,
has lived up to his name. We will sell Winifred and her future mate, the dashing
spotty Houdini once the piglets are weaned as well. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our chickens will likewise be sold off, and some unlucky
young roosters will become coq au vin. We have also promised some chickens to
our staff. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJCCvAGOWg7zmiiGZujNt-HErBV1WSOcWjGM289QTdCtoXrLy1LAhch8-Qnfqgw-2pA66O67A7Mdcu6ucqid-zjTUUWq39waLHY-NXDCldwyUr7OWlrg2ss43wQXAIYWraGA62O-CN0qY/s1600/IMG_8722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJCCvAGOWg7zmiiGZujNt-HErBV1WSOcWjGM289QTdCtoXrLy1LAhch8-Qnfqgw-2pA66O67A7Mdcu6ucqid-zjTUUWq39waLHY-NXDCldwyUr7OWlrg2ss43wQXAIYWraGA62O-CN0qY/s1600/IMG_8722.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lucy Lamb is going to live with my vegetarian friend where I
know she will be safe and loved along with the three other hanslammetjie sheep
that already live there. Once her fleece is long enough, it will be shorn and
kept for me so that I can spin it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Meals will be planned around the fresh produce and open jars
in the fridge. The last of the harvest in our bountiful vegetable tunnel will
be picked before the frost and cooked fresh rather than pickled or frozen for
winter. I will dry surplus tomatoes rather than freeze them. There is not all
that much left in the tunnel. I won’t plant out the seedlings that I had
planned for our winter garden. Once all the fresh produce is used up I will
focus on cooking from the contents of our freezer. Jams, pickles and preserves
can travel with us to our new destination so I probably won’t open any new
jars. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:DocumentProperties>
<o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template>
<o:Revision>0</o:Revision>
<o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime>
<o:Pages>1</o:Pages>
<o:Words>409</o:Words>
<o:Characters>2332</o:Characters>
<o:Company>private</o:Company>
<o:Lines>19</o:Lines>
<o:Paragraphs>4</o:Paragraphs>
<o:CharactersWithSpaces>2863</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
<o:Version>12.256</o:Version>
</o:DocumentProperties>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>
<w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>
<w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
</w:Compatibility>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276">
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj88_5GkdjVQN7D1C10zNJnfqL3X3lSVU5vu4V_JsPD0ysVm4Sl8IjGIVGi5B9tiX4wt29oN88hyCSnbDoR9xN4jxwYd8OoqQTiuftSITLZShntVncPfiH3Gu3SFJ9TcHy-CudRG14JNbs/s1600/IMG_8981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj88_5GkdjVQN7D1C10zNJnfqL3X3lSVU5vu4V_JsPD0ysVm4Sl8IjGIVGi5B9tiX4wt29oN88hyCSnbDoR9xN4jxwYd8OoqQTiuftSITLZShntVncPfiH3Gu3SFJ9TcHy-CudRG14JNbs/s1600/IMG_8981.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My head is spinning a little with new tasks and a change of
focus, but I am confident that we can do this hard thing. </div>
Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-72078611587761763252015-03-12T04:52:00.001-07:002015-03-12T04:52:08.911-07:00I Won! I Won!I came to live on this farm, all green. We inherited a mesh-covered tunnel rich with vegetables, a cow and her calf and four chickens. This change, this choice required my change. I researched and studied, sowed and reaped, learned and failed, harvested and built compost. Instead of contributing to our income, I minimised our expenditure. The more I grew, the more we grew, the less we spent.<br />
<br />
Three years later and our success in self-sufficiency shows at supper. Each night as we sit holding hands, grateful for the blessing before us, we wonder at the home raised goodness before us.<br />
<br />
A walk in the tunnel and our failure in self-sufficiency shows on the leaves. I abdicated as general in the war against invaders as the heat waves of summer combined with faulty pumps and leaking lines defeated us in our daily skirmishes. My ignorance in organic matters mocks in small pickings.<br />
<br />
I recognise my need for guidance. Today such an advisor arrived in the form of a book. A prize. A weapon. No, a tactical manual. A manual of things green written for green people. Like me.<br />
<br />
Green is the colour of hope, new beginnings, life.<br />
<br />
As this season of summer cools into autumn, I am thankful, hopeful and even excited for the new seasons of promise yet to come. A surprise, a prize has given me hope, stirred my imagination and encouraged me to discard the white flag of surrender and march forward boldly with muddy boots, sandy hands and my pockets full of seeds.<br />
<br />
Thank you <a href="http://livingseeds.co.za/">Livingseeds</a> for the awesome prize. I promise to use it well.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45KQW3E-T3soeF1b49jX3Nmo1gJPxNbPWiVNxcM6Bk3eyTlAOQVZh1MZ-Ty7RftEf_3dTFIVEpNNois6ZEcrEkgcnZ3FcZt_sbBYpgMdq6M0k-qZplZhyphenhyphen00u5AhBrhXDqC7UJ_Y5PGwE/s1600/IMG_9268.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/AVvXsEj45KQW3E-T3soeF1b49jX3Nmo1gJPxNbPWiVNxcM6Bk3eyTlAOQVZh1MZ-Ty7RftEf_3dTFIVEpNNois6ZEcrEkgcnZ3FcZt_sbBYpgMdq6M0k-qZplZhyphenhyphen00u5AhBrhXDqC7UJ_Y5PGwE/s1600/IMG_9268.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij-goK6XP3R0srYOfY92JMmW9-VTmn56Bdz4jkiDZ3ugvHSHs6i3b2Rh0BDrHGraUyQoIEF8LlidIIBjluChR-ogQMSNL5P4l9Y6c6HKhCREBBSehg44GLQoaGPp8ALjKApf91197gOC8/s1600/IMG_9264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij-goK6XP3R0srYOfY92JMmW9-VTmn56Bdz4jkiDZ3ugvHSHs6i3b2Rh0BDrHGraUyQoIEF8LlidIIBjluChR-ogQMSNL5P4l9Y6c6HKhCREBBSehg44GLQoaGPp8ALjKApf91197gOC8/s1600/IMG_9264.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJlLEkv3teq0vMWrVRmQNrPCEIEDUR3VSpfUE1r4UrsFXXVdDH-7d2Gymg-3JxppK0PUTJX1owNtXGnfpJwXbSF7bDO4XPLdW4PDddjGg79Qi2EOFEJzaBsG8i8CHnWVPvDPGUJTwoYCA/s1600/IMG_9266.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/AVvXsEiJlLEkv3teq0vMWrVRmQNrPCEIEDUR3VSpfUE1r4UrsFXXVdDH-7d2Gymg-3JxppK0PUTJX1owNtXGnfpJwXbSF7bDO4XPLdW4PDddjGg79Qi2EOFEJzaBsG8i8CHnWVPvDPGUJTwoYCA/s1600/IMG_9266.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ndL_YwyCIz6IFvE15bM1oGd0Giu2kS3NVX79_pk3SaR-MusKNpVztUuihb8J21JznFQO8fj2hFFjUOvhP1C6N2BDQjcnYvLvGMX3Y8a9uc74exkuyfSniw9TdtQu26xlIVbvcSJzJTU/s1600/IMG_9263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ndL_YwyCIz6IFvE15bM1oGd0Giu2kS3NVX79_pk3SaR-MusKNpVztUuihb8J21JznFQO8fj2hFFjUOvhP1C6N2BDQjcnYvLvGMX3Y8a9uc74exkuyfSniw9TdtQu26xlIVbvcSJzJTU/s1600/IMG_9263.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-59784639733084643742015-01-31T09:47:00.000-08:002015-01-31T09:47:03.580-08:00Mexican Black and BlueI have a blue wooden treasure box. It is filled with little packets of promises. Guy and Lianne gave them to me when they left for the UK. Last summer I took a particularly promising packet of promises and planted them near the pine tree. I watered and waited and watched. Some of them were empty promises, but a few came to life and pushed their way towards the light, stretching tall to the sun. I waited all summer and as the days cooled to autumn they faded and dried and died. I gathered their heavy black heads and placed them in a basket near my front door. A basket of promises.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tZo9eA_HXfghtBC989Va8zLBpzS32waoQmP89_gFdfN2oQZn8jRdTaVY0FFUrOIH3EO7ZA7GtTiz1LRDtAV0oU3Baxm0EOJEtU8SvSj-xTkieOOoAV0bsYzahUjBha_JuAisstz_T7E/s1600/IMG_4078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tZo9eA_HXfghtBC989Va8zLBpzS32waoQmP89_gFdfN2oQZn8jRdTaVY0FFUrOIH3EO7ZA7GtTiz1LRDtAV0oU3Baxm0EOJEtU8SvSj-xTkieOOoAV0bsYzahUjBha_JuAisstz_T7E/s1600/IMG_4078.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
What to do with Black Aztec maize? I had no idea. A little research filled my culinary imaginations with images of blue corn tortillas and Mexican food. Winter visited, and spring came calling. Then, when summer had come to stay for a while, on a Wednesday afternoon, an unexpected gift of tomatillos from my friend reminded me of the silent basket of promises that greeted every guest who entered through my front door. It was time.<br />
<br />
<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/AVvXsEhfrTRvXZztZRDEVZCHtZrDN40XcQI1p7WvjYQKOrii8t-LqHiL05pWPu2-LTaq2s5ArsMxokymmdHRr2O_MNVNy2PG1BdxqEBf_LrfQ9C1xd3YuDyWImhUo0iwkZWs_KmTKl9bQMbxc9Y/s1600/IMG_5029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrTRvXZztZRDEVZCHtZrDN40XcQI1p7WvjYQKOrii8t-LqHiL05pWPu2-LTaq2s5ArsMxokymmdHRr2O_MNVNy2PG1BdxqEBf_LrfQ9C1xd3YuDyWImhUo0iwkZWs_KmTKl9bQMbxc9Y/s1600/IMG_5029.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black Aztec Corn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On Thursday morning I shucked the black pearls into a bowl while teaching a Maths lesson. One kilogram of them were boiled and soaked overnight with one tablespoon of lime in a pot of water.<br />
<br />
<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/AVvXsEiDSov7RLkNafBeFNqmR4MkyV_Opq-dzmJxGO8-SyYcUANW4SeiTBnbsR5pkdNuAsz7MNuJerlPomAcjkUNGK-SVK7uNU_u7zdA8cNjlXHVLb5rDmU-aZGOhTf2cYZBiG_HtyJqPbjfhaU/s1600/IMG_8600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDSov7RLkNafBeFNqmR4MkyV_Opq-dzmJxGO8-SyYcUANW4SeiTBnbsR5pkdNuAsz7MNuJerlPomAcjkUNGK-SVK7uNU_u7zdA8cNjlXHVLb5rDmU-aZGOhTf2cYZBiG_HtyJqPbjfhaU/s1600/IMG_8600.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add 1 T slaked lime in 1 c water, pour into pot of corn, cover with water. Bring to the boil for 5 minutes and soak overnight. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On Thursday afternoon, during an art lesson, I turned two kilograms of tomatillos into dizzyingly delicious salsa verde. It was my first time tasting the unusual fruit. I am smitten.<br />
<br />
<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/AVvXsEjfiUSm7QwFGmLZFz1fdGN0WMYjf-qaXlR0Z6Jxh7VscZGys3mxD5QkaHc9LKP580m0eyxwFTESUYBtgW1uftmWE6M9s_ewSJxBAkY8-APeu2CKTP94lBCFhSVjzAQ6-BFZOob1pL3gUhg/s1600/IMG_8601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfiUSm7QwFGmLZFz1fdGN0WMYjf-qaXlR0Z6Jxh7VscZGys3mxD5QkaHc9LKP580m0eyxwFTESUYBtgW1uftmWE6M9s_ewSJxBAkY8-APeu2CKTP94lBCFhSVjzAQ6-BFZOob1pL3gUhg/s1600/IMG_8601.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomatillos are not a kind of green tomato. They are in the gooseberry family. Thank you Stacey.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEiffQUVpD3xsnCrtxai8k5eRTxHikska06BvXg0JwZGzBoz_iBsoNp6xIqn7cybTd4Bl2ow7UTB0J90WMjnACl7qd-pJ-26b0IbNcaRwoW1QI-dwqX1yeWCQ3j9gJokQDvLXtkQVslYeZU/s1600/IMG_8606_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiffQUVpD3xsnCrtxai8k5eRTxHikska06BvXg0JwZGzBoz_iBsoNp6xIqn7cybTd4Bl2ow7UTB0J90WMjnACl7qd-pJ-26b0IbNcaRwoW1QI-dwqX1yeWCQ3j9gJokQDvLXtkQVslYeZU/s1600/IMG_8606_2.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boil the tomatillos with 2 jalapeño chilis until tender. Drain and blend with seasoning, coriander leaves garlic and onion. Simmer the sauce in a little oil for ten minutes. The recipe is from the blog Patti's Kitchen Table</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On Friday morning, while a Maths test was underway, I rubbed off the corn skins under running water, then ground the wet Black Aztec Maize kernels into a masa. The soft mound of masa, a grey-blue with flecks of black, looked like granite. The promise of a good dinner and the hope of success resulted in a phone call. Fun food is for sharing.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<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/AVvXsEjWrfkt_s8pThU4eYVNiQTfGXLy1B0LYpFhsKoQaZpPQCWJDnInnfFY-yB56sKyPKcnvkfAtFAZXxdTzXWJsDnln1atXeyYyOAJrN8-MI0h7YB0x3Tj942P4vFg4JcjLSrOxoLlunoTcDc/s1600/IMG_8608_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWrfkt_s8pThU4eYVNiQTfGXLy1B0LYpFhsKoQaZpPQCWJDnInnfFY-yB56sKyPKcnvkfAtFAZXxdTzXWJsDnln1atXeyYyOAJrN8-MI0h7YB0x3Tj942P4vFg4JcjLSrOxoLlunoTcDc/s1600/IMG_8608_2.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rub the soaked kernels in your hands under running water</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEhD0hY2c0ypDTxEhKpmLZ_r0ZuhqchG4WsvHNF1CaCUsRkvbiXhgHyfl0ORF9xGIWynjnKwZwbsuuq1e2NRhyphenhyphenci6417uuoj3J3s57sn5cpCBZ2Z8yc6hyphenhyphenOQ2WVumjml6M5rRit9sS837bA/s1600/IMG_8610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD0hY2c0ypDTxEhKpmLZ_r0ZuhqchG4WsvHNF1CaCUsRkvbiXhgHyfl0ORF9xGIWynjnKwZwbsuuq1e2NRhyphenhyphenci6417uuoj3J3s57sn5cpCBZ2Z8yc6hyphenhyphenOQ2WVumjml6M5rRit9sS837bA/s1600/IMG_8610.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grind or use a food processor to form a pliable dough or masa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEgL5CwUGxkz3SksYf1iTRP1CSdAIx_hIXZLcqbvfHpnsiW8PjICOaKAsz8hpgKi1EueMDCPCdPrxWaVv6SF5mob6Xr9dbvQwYMgeSgM7BoioC_NWRfNDT_x2t9cy3N_Rxanwn7ko9Wb9hQ/s1600/IMG_8612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5CwUGxkz3SksYf1iTRP1CSdAIx_hIXZLcqbvfHpnsiW8PjICOaKAsz8hpgKi1EueMDCPCdPrxWaVv6SF5mob6Xr9dbvQwYMgeSgM7BoioC_NWRfNDT_x2t9cy3N_Rxanwn7ko9Wb9hQ/s1600/IMG_8612.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Knead the masa for 10 min until it is smooth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
All day on Friday pots of spicy mince and Spanish Black Beans simmered on the hob while I scurried between the schoolroom and the stove. The beans came from another packet of promises that produced prolifically last summer. Poetically, they were the perfect partner for the promised repast.<br />
<br />
<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/AVvXsEhDv9a8cX2mkqb33XqkssQS6tGIL6igUL_6LNrtJzL1WLMffBe8rgvLLulB9cRWLCYDMbxjsd3hYlwgpyyYPtwZ3Ic_leOHBvR3irAIICW8a0CyYo8nz1Kord7SKXU4uGRHacf30k92Z7s/s1600/IMG_4656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDv9a8cX2mkqb33XqkssQS6tGIL6igUL_6LNrtJzL1WLMffBe8rgvLLulB9cRWLCYDMbxjsd3hYlwgpyyYPtwZ3Ic_leOHBvR3irAIICW8a0CyYo8nz1Kord7SKXU4uGRHacf30k92Z7s/s1600/IMG_4656.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like the corn, these Spanish Black Beans dried in the summer sun and then we collected them for our winter pantry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<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/AVvXsEh9HS5f0TDH3ShAX5dPcAu9hydR7-1p1ACBElO9y0CH7YwFlQyhuQQmArUow1DKgPMWMFXi6dvhUEMcxJX9wUJoVYAsI8EXD6WbKwETBTcKhSkPVYSIsHdyQn0OhhL_yAEHk3b6c9a7EOc/s1600/IMG_8632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9HS5f0TDH3ShAX5dPcAu9hydR7-1p1ACBElO9y0CH7YwFlQyhuQQmArUow1DKgPMWMFXi6dvhUEMcxJX9wUJoVYAsI8EXD6WbKwETBTcKhSkPVYSIsHdyQn0OhhL_yAEHk3b6c9a7EOc/s1600/IMG_8632.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Simmer cooked beans with onion, green pepper, celery, garlic, cumin, coriander, chilli, origanum and tomato</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On Friday evening our friends arrived and the men set to work pressing out blue tortillas between sheets of plastic using a pie plate. They turned a purply grey as they browned on the skillet. We ladies sipped tequila and enjoyed the summer evening with grey thunderclouds and purple Maluti Mountains in the distance.<br />
<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;"><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz58pQtqTp5f2KRxYeG39BEbZFGlY2Zggh03wclK5SeT_3sVZ7FpWdY1f4fNIHVDoZUZE485WdRTp_YwBjsU1CbkHBF4W1m3KlKCp-CkNYjJCoueUsF2Cp9HxWdcNAsstCX7yTfV4o1qM/s1600/IMG_8617_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/AVvXsEgz58pQtqTp5f2KRxYeG39BEbZFGlY2Zggh03wclK5SeT_3sVZ7FpWdY1f4fNIHVDoZUZE485WdRTp_YwBjsU1CbkHBF4W1m3KlKCp-CkNYjJCoueUsF2Cp9HxWdcNAsstCX7yTfV4o1qM/s1600/IMG_8617_2.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3A2gT8ufGTPb_dNEDAy8laV8tJUHAx2Qj-HSjywU21ApFJ3MtPzXdxLLWgU14Nl4xMOv3D1FAXrSOTo050zB9q5JQd2iARWTPFjK_4d8sG1aSM-lLblViM8UhILS9PRbpUtn0ZfCnJg/s1600/IMG_8620_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3A2gT8ufGTPb_dNEDAy8laV8tJUHAx2Qj-HSjywU21ApFJ3MtPzXdxLLWgU14Nl4xMOv3D1FAXrSOTo050zB9q5JQd2iARWTPFjK_4d8sG1aSM-lLblViM8UhILS9PRbpUtn0ZfCnJg/s1600/IMG_8620_2.jpg" height="432" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cook the tortillas for a few minutes on each side on a heavy, flat skillet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEhYHSp9onaDVEawrB7r2AeJs8cryOcQg4Lk4bOTp-dHiV3ntg-LZVQWpZGwe2EBkFgLRm3mP8jKxdlVScE0lJXAcoHOyKAHyAxIKGd3UeFcFP0E-_g_BTdOAm3EXh8-8BFVCt9SsXT37ik/s1600/IMG_8622.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYHSp9onaDVEawrB7r2AeJs8cryOcQg4Lk4bOTp-dHiV3ntg-LZVQWpZGwe2EBkFgLRm3mP8jKxdlVScE0lJXAcoHOyKAHyAxIKGd3UeFcFP0E-_g_BTdOAm3EXh8-8BFVCt9SsXT37ik/s1600/IMG_8622.jpg" height="496" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They really do look blue</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We ate outside, on the verandah after dark, our table dimly lit by a row of solar light jars. I am glad it was dark so no-one could see the salsa running down my chin as I relished my magnificent Mexican meal.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<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/AVvXsEhwRPRjuAg-y1FgMRAZP_kketoihNq7mzc1FOJHFyKruhubHJnITkyYYccxrPlW0pcTeJSZRi2UWyohhsiDshaX09kY7vA87B33se3dtAFXTjxKjdn6r9DZ9jArvTTho29ivIoQrVZs1D4/s1600/IMG_8621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwRPRjuAg-y1FgMRAZP_kketoihNq7mzc1FOJHFyKruhubHJnITkyYYccxrPlW0pcTeJSZRi2UWyohhsiDshaX09kY7vA87B33se3dtAFXTjxKjdn6r9DZ9jArvTTho29ivIoQrVZs1D4/s1600/IMG_8621.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coriander leaves, red tomato salsa, chopped chilis, salsa verde, cooked chicken tossed in salsa verde on an appropriately South American tablecloth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEhoDZZjC8fbrAFMmOkeATX1HtHi5vEYkJtoGy9SI97mylypwI8JJ6CvRLR_7TNwW10c2ySzsZFkQyugx0hflfBICZj8kqqiYHI23YtN__5CpjPpgYH97gJL1mkUgOt1Hq2wX-spDMhOGv0/s1600/IMG_8636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoDZZjC8fbrAFMmOkeATX1HtHi5vEYkJtoGy9SI97mylypwI8JJ6CvRLR_7TNwW10c2ySzsZFkQyugx0hflfBICZj8kqqiYHI23YtN__5CpjPpgYH97gJL1mkUgOt1Hq2wX-spDMhOGv0/s1600/IMG_8636.jpg" height="544" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue corn tortillas filled with chicken / spicy pastured beef mince / Mexican beans and topped with salsa, coriander leaves, rather runny home made yoghurt and grated mild farm cheese.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-61814891575351536532015-01-16T00:55:00.002-08:002015-01-16T00:57:52.517-08:00Summer Evening Stroll in the TunnelStrains of Michael Buble waft out into the sultry Summer night. A belated birthday meal is sizzling and bubbling in the kitchen, green peppercorn sauce over our own grass fed rump steak at my request. I sit on the wooden floor, sorting sandy potatoes into small piles for keeping and sharing. The mondial potatoes that I grew from a shop bought bag produced a disappointing harvest this year. Ladybug imposters gobbled their leaves faster than I could squash them and so the tubers stayed small. These, my early potatoes will provide us with just a few meals, including the potato chips tonight. I have my hopes set on the organic Varna seed potatoes planted later in Spring. Maybe they will perform better. Tonight, against all my grain, I sprayed them with an organic pesticide in the hopes of defeating the voracious red beetles before they defoliate our winter potato stores as well.<br />
<br />
They are looking relatively healthy. Come and stroll through my veggie garden with me...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyoDoQb2DULmxWSa3QAHfylu-lp4P_OdIfnxts_f0XGxPTCxlmExivfYhb7spkaWX-UeHbfVGZW7KTngvrTg-drZNE2yxvpyX50fM-1UHhkCQOZrhyphenhyphenCv3JYSZX0BKbvfm-xpxnTyecNLY/s1600/IMG_8523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyoDoQb2DULmxWSa3QAHfylu-lp4P_OdIfnxts_f0XGxPTCxlmExivfYhb7spkaWX-UeHbfVGZW7KTngvrTg-drZNE2yxvpyX50fM-1UHhkCQOZrhyphenhyphenCv3JYSZX0BKbvfm-xpxnTyecNLY/s1600/IMG_8523.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
The Country Gentleman sweetcorn has grown up tall and dignified as a gentleman should, so tall that the stalks are pushing up against the top of the tunnel. Maize pollinates via the wind. I hope their position in the plastic section of our tunnel doesn't prevent them from giving us full cobs of summer sweetness.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrfkoSMNiqlNtTZS-46c2IcdnJhRnfHFOwU_ZM8ALoYiendebzotlW4-OScKPUhR0myIoCLOO7NIIqKFEd4iBVbzhs86GfNbQErZcJshUsxsKterQL6QzUHzTEC8AOmOS0EfxcdbTBjY/s1600/IMG_8521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrfkoSMNiqlNtTZS-46c2IcdnJhRnfHFOwU_ZM8ALoYiendebzotlW4-OScKPUhR0myIoCLOO7NIIqKFEd4iBVbzhs86GfNbQErZcJshUsxsKterQL6QzUHzTEC8AOmOS0EfxcdbTBjY/s1600/IMG_8521.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
There is a green tunnel of maize and runner beans that my little nephew ran up and down when he visited from Cape Town. Every time I pick the rough skinned beans I remember his delight as he scampered in and out of green light and shadow, willing me to spray him with the hosepipe.<br />
<br />
<br />
The tomatoes are happier than last week. They drunkenly cling to their stakes as their heavy fruits threaten to topple them over. Each morning I pick the fruit just as the colour is turning. I am jealous of my tomato harvest and refuse to share the ripe fruit with the resident field mouse and birds, so I set them in baskets to ripen on the kitchen counter.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_Nuco_TYLgoO9KCMIe0lJ0joerQ_s9NEIQVDNXm9mWuYJEbx-uWICKY2iTzMK2EQSe-w4Hx_ZDt55dhF6C9L7SchacLomgxptWfGDibcoCdZjLYUMYI3lVWrv82PqQ6HH4ZXcsXsnPk/s1600/IMG_8527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_Nuco_TYLgoO9KCMIe0lJ0joerQ_s9NEIQVDNXm9mWuYJEbx-uWICKY2iTzMK2EQSe-w4Hx_ZDt55dhF6C9L7SchacLomgxptWfGDibcoCdZjLYUMYI3lVWrv82PqQ6HH4ZXcsXsnPk/s1600/IMG_8527.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The Kuroda carrots are the most disciplined of all out plantings this season. They stand to attention, proudly parading their promise of Autumn delights. Not so the rebellious Yellowstone carrots which, although vigorous, appear haphazardly in their allocated bed. Our spring planting of Purple Dragon carrots continue to mature randomly and so provide us with a continual supply of the pretty purple skinned orange vegetables.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTPhPhx48yGP0riWfo8BR2CcNUNi3oYQSg4cT2tW7lIpjpk9FWsrhjCqWZHyOSv4q0V4zqeotlUiebEv1n_iOXRVkVf8FsQbdvtzOCK8hBO-F1xOojFW1CRSld459f4h2shlb_C_5gIyw/s1600/IMG_8519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTPhPhx48yGP0riWfo8BR2CcNUNi3oYQSg4cT2tW7lIpjpk9FWsrhjCqWZHyOSv4q0V4zqeotlUiebEv1n_iOXRVkVf8FsQbdvtzOCK8hBO-F1xOojFW1CRSld459f4h2shlb_C_5gIyw/s1600/IMG_8519.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Heirloom lettuce is gaily going to seed. I hope for many tiny babies that I can transplant at my leisure. Germinating the seed in trays has proved disastrous. From packet and packets of old heirloom lettuces, I have only successfully managed to grow three pink tinged Regina Di Maggio lettuces.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-jg3yNOXv3K2ajLe1nEkKJ1gh6_OrxvpH3bamf9NObe2BZ9FhCVL5fVxZs1IChpBW-hCH5c87C6PzD3PheWjytw5u57FQh6vj0YM77p3X5b5NXXi42vK69FEWamvwciCBKqrUxonqskk/s1600/IMG_8517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-jg3yNOXv3K2ajLe1nEkKJ1gh6_OrxvpH3bamf9NObe2BZ9FhCVL5fVxZs1IChpBW-hCH5c87C6PzD3PheWjytw5u57FQh6vj0YM77p3X5b5NXXi42vK69FEWamvwciCBKqrUxonqskk/s1600/IMG_8517.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The Drumhead Savoy cabbages are just beginning to form round heads. They are rather moth eaten. Every day I mean to cover them with netting. Maybe tomorrow I will remember.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJLCE5h6IU8cIdNAattLWtEqi4PJaKInb9srDz4MOOJ2FR5GxysJZkoAWi1PgW2-QvVPH37T2lxhB5rOqID_e41MG1mbwumyM62aV2UduMan6kE7aZM6Eevm-BC32mHN_xCQqoFawcOc/s1600/IMG_8518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJLCE5h6IU8cIdNAattLWtEqi4PJaKInb9srDz4MOOJ2FR5GxysJZkoAWi1PgW2-QvVPH37T2lxhB5rOqID_e41MG1mbwumyM62aV2UduMan6kE7aZM6Eevm-BC32mHN_xCQqoFawcOc/s1600/IMG_8518.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The pile of Waltham butternuts is growing inside the house. This is our first year growing them. Previously pumpkins took precedence. I am not sure how well these squashes keep. I will do my best to enable these beauties to reach their full culinary potential.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcoLHAVn10HYyWCH4iVWOMoVD8kSsQSOVFoTDZSm0KKggBlBpBNOIGNljAdh6nrVPJR3DxnO7GBxhMDPtYn2bOc7_ZOVNVwcHmYQTmR78Quj9BMhAWzX2cWmafqG8NtrjN3cIV0OyfBQ/s1600/IMG_8524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcoLHAVn10HYyWCH4iVWOMoVD8kSsQSOVFoTDZSm0KKggBlBpBNOIGNljAdh6nrVPJR3DxnO7GBxhMDPtYn2bOc7_ZOVNVwcHmYQTmR78Quj9BMhAWzX2cWmafqG8NtrjN3cIV0OyfBQ/s1600/IMG_8524.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Winter meals of hearty dry Spanish Black beans are peeping through the leaves, biding their time until they are fully dry and ready for podding.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_PvZh76GyBSuzPE0MU12l-gF8iXeyVYso0iLzhS8JfnARCFZZUDcm70T4N6ZrTtpWAZg-I5fcfCLiz3jjdXEtDPxakOsO6nhWbs76kETY5lstJPWhjhWIuHB4nm8yo-AtRuGgR0vzQeM/s1600/IMG_8526.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_PvZh76GyBSuzPE0MU12l-gF8iXeyVYso0iLzhS8JfnARCFZZUDcm70T4N6ZrTtpWAZg-I5fcfCLiz3jjdXEtDPxakOsO6nhWbs76kETY5lstJPWhjhWIuHB4nm8yo-AtRuGgR0vzQeM/s1600/IMG_8526.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Bath-sponges-to-be hang seductively from their vine. Many many loofah seeds were planted before this one plant took root and trailed up the stake.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7nSrHD2s3NX4Kn9dJ6oEXZUxb08QcWkVe7QzvXeU9QQBoTej51Ekv8aahyphenhyphenlGv-KYgK8E0v_VyDBge4hUOE7U5MOEisdqcf5s0gbyVbi6yi1iDzG2gFusdDE3wsP-x7bfMrDeIfAf8cw/s1600/IMG_8520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7nSrHD2s3NX4Kn9dJ6oEXZUxb08QcWkVe7QzvXeU9QQBoTej51Ekv8aahyphenhyphenlGv-KYgK8E0v_VyDBge4hUOE7U5MOEisdqcf5s0gbyVbi6yi1iDzG2gFusdDE3wsP-x7bfMrDeIfAf8cw/s1600/IMG_8520.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
A stroll through our tunnel at sunset brings closure to my day, and hope for the harvest to come. Tomorrow morning, just after sunrise, I will return and greet my new day with the birds, our enthusiastically vociferous rooster and loving Lucy Lamb while my men young and old snore in good company with Winifred and Sausage, our two late-rising Piggies.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zQLzkpEIyBLMCBSY3WHq9PK9sOlgZmfYaqXV5jKF3g9CpNB5LPGXvHK_j-HXEHSiKIWjajfUCRiTmqgEeDfm2gPv6wfuF286X4aWPNHMh8x5s0WHXcKzcVZi-YOfSvQu31ZLUTbmeWQ/s1600/IMG_8516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zQLzkpEIyBLMCBSY3WHq9PK9sOlgZmfYaqXV5jKF3g9CpNB5LPGXvHK_j-HXEHSiKIWjajfUCRiTmqgEeDfm2gPv6wfuF286X4aWPNHMh8x5s0WHXcKzcVZi-YOfSvQu31ZLUTbmeWQ/s1600/IMG_8516.JPG" height="268" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-64105725965807907442015-01-07T10:09:00.000-08:002015-01-07T10:12:08.434-08:00Elastic Mom Bounces Back<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZD-tqngpi9MMk7YGMbWFysw6Xmx_mET1FbAY1tNvv-F8mls97c6yIiY6GRoYZSvI6Zhmj9-OqrO4y49s64K3EL1Y5RwUXy6woyXrUuNEAOD8ATgn540-CuZho6cAePOQEG9E6cC-IHw/s1600/IMG_8463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZD-tqngpi9MMk7YGMbWFysw6Xmx_mET1FbAY1tNvv-F8mls97c6yIiY6GRoYZSvI6Zhmj9-OqrO4y49s64K3EL1Y5RwUXy6woyXrUuNEAOD8ATgn540-CuZho6cAePOQEG9E6cC-IHw/s1600/IMG_8463.jpg" height="283" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I sat in the dry dirt, hidden amongst tomato plants straggling up their spindly stakes and there I methodically snipped yellow leaves, collected fallen green promises and our long awaited, nurtured from seed since July, first of the season, worm pierced beauties and wept with dry eyes at the devastation. My despairing thoughts drifted over fig trees not blossoming and Job's woe and visions melodramatically burned down the tunnel, sold the animals, sent the boy to school and walked away.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"Though the fig tree does not blossom, yet will I praise the Lord"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I feebly sang a rote-remembered hymn as I gathered up stray cuttings and moped indoors. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
That was yesterday. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Today, while contemplating the green folds of <i>Purple Calabash</i> tomatoes, the untouched by worm parts, and the unripe marbles of fallen S<i>weetie</i> tomatoes my tenacious thoughts drifted over movies loved long ago and treasured jars relished a few years back. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXkAT3-1NDCPAEiIhBhyKfrCM_aIUWsVMinKM_OMIDKgbI4tQH3_TqnIzCm2Md-EHnUI0LeZiHGpKD-xzh-LrF-MoStX0LH0Mlh3erCFXDEmFRS7K3nY6ksV1TOnEbViDkYjnYRN0eSLw/s1600/IMG_8470.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXkAT3-1NDCPAEiIhBhyKfrCM_aIUWsVMinKM_OMIDKgbI4tQH3_TqnIzCm2Md-EHnUI0LeZiHGpKD-xzh-LrF-MoStX0LH0Mlh3erCFXDEmFRS7K3nY6ksV1TOnEbViDkYjnYRN0eSLw/s1600/IMG_8470.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Green tomatoes with nasty bits cut away, sliced up, dipped in beaten egg and then in cornflour, salt and pepper were scrumptious fried in an olive oil and butter.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyIytHlpsPFZ2mNAzCEuFzQeOWoRTlrt6GjWnmDdRLSm0QvqszRo1DU0JHmUXefDv8F51kNgmI0NgTZbvYxqev0MB121sr7lv5HbrewFiabLQZdEYnBRrsMYiOMViJFeVYPTrVbws7OXM/s1600/IMG_8472.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/AVvXsEhyIytHlpsPFZ2mNAzCEuFzQeOWoRTlrt6GjWnmDdRLSm0QvqszRo1DU0JHmUXefDv8F51kNgmI0NgTZbvYxqev0MB121sr7lv5HbrewFiabLQZdEYnBRrsMYiOMViJFeVYPTrVbws7OXM/s1600/IMG_8472.jpg" height="500" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Nigel Slater, yet again, deserves all the credit for what happened next. Hope wafted through the house on the tangy spicy scent as his memorable <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2009/oct/04/nigel-slater-green-tomato-recipes">Mixed Tomato Chutney</a> simmered cheerfully in the kitchen. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvtloFEH8SF7OfxPNinA4zmvOBpiwLYVelJR3GYPHkIjFdfIeEaqbCwPbTE4mozSnHc6jNvolt0wLnU8TY9XCnW4DapJGbydcrJGyjP5g88W2UsvRkdTHb69k1V8-QqUmdwv_rEj3f0I/s1600/IMG_8473.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvtloFEH8SF7OfxPNinA4zmvOBpiwLYVelJR3GYPHkIjFdfIeEaqbCwPbTE4mozSnHc6jNvolt0wLnU8TY9XCnW4DapJGbydcrJGyjP5g88W2UsvRkdTHb69k1V8-QqUmdwv_rEj3f0I/s1600/IMG_8473.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Tomorrow, we will eat my rather greener version slathered over our very own nine-month mature cheddar on warm buttermilk bread. I know it will be sublime, the sweet tart relish compliments sharp strong cheese perfectly. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyDJESylKH-QBRrLFWHkVy5s-BHz7M2zE5W02MY5elS5RSNn2Sb2MAZEH6rD-QgS1W2Jf10Lls6B-Vh1ncQCMNiestbO3NUmyikvt07BA8ktsLkQ1erdA6PYn97pq3hnuR13fXZZ6hlM/s1600/IMG_8474.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyDJESylKH-QBRrLFWHkVy5s-BHz7M2zE5W02MY5elS5RSNn2Sb2MAZEH6rD-QgS1W2Jf10Lls6B-Vh1ncQCMNiestbO3NUmyikvt07BA8ktsLkQ1erdA6PYn97pq3hnuR13fXZZ6hlM/s1600/IMG_8474.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-91840661626417087282014-08-08T21:45:00.000-07:002014-08-08T21:45:11.395-07:00Delicious Dulce de Leche Faithful Esse warms our home all winter long. She is insatiably hungry and needs to be fed daily. She is wonderfully versatile and if we employ her to her full potential, she is perfect for preparing dishes that require long simmering or slow roasting.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvucfg5vqyQ81gI69Ly6t-Q3xfutXc0zVt0_R-xV4hhXaR5l0S1QVz9kdfN_XbzHbeyprg84YZPVJVeLqFA2R4bhTr-0D8wifKh3SS-vYIYhiYT4yg5Jn6j5JA0Qx7G-9S3Kc9jaZGShM/s1600/IMG_6279.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvucfg5vqyQ81gI69Ly6t-Q3xfutXc0zVt0_R-xV4hhXaR5l0S1QVz9kdfN_XbzHbeyprg84YZPVJVeLqFA2R4bhTr-0D8wifKh3SS-vYIYhiYT4yg5Jn6j5JA0Qx7G-9S3Kc9jaZGShM/s1600/IMG_6279.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
Surplus milk plus warm hearted Esse were the catalysts that sparked the idea for a new Rosewood Country Kitchen product... Dulce de Leche.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ0muSF4elPzLOuxg0ivye2_uaR-jkBmkRsHFyvbLkrJ7nPf5edNtaOCTSz5C4ml-onDKhkW2VhL-C5kRQ6v9kfjSvx0viPMETQcpcFdJhV3-cTKXqqZi1U6-PXCZLFswemYPgocWTs5c/s1600/IMG_6280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ0muSF4elPzLOuxg0ivye2_uaR-jkBmkRsHFyvbLkrJ7nPf5edNtaOCTSz5C4ml-onDKhkW2VhL-C5kRQ6v9kfjSvx0viPMETQcpcFdJhV3-cTKXqqZi1U6-PXCZLFswemYPgocWTs5c/s1600/IMG_6280.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
The recipe is simple: Litres and litres of creamy jersey milk, heaps of sugar, vanilla pods, a couple of pinches of this and that ... and hours and hours of bubbling and stirring until we have our first batch of jars filled with dreamy caramelised milk.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLyxtvtH7_e2HF2l09OveeKcNY3c-z-vC1l8s1LXvtQrS-UNuW440VPnCZF7iCfo1sSoWN_1wU1yppYc99pOCV87y2X59dUZ9ALGutGqknQRvGyG7yPWS4I14_waRekzXxFmwSSoC_mII/s1600/IMG_6282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLyxtvtH7_e2HF2l09OveeKcNY3c-z-vC1l8s1LXvtQrS-UNuW440VPnCZF7iCfo1sSoWN_1wU1yppYc99pOCV87y2X59dUZ9ALGutGqknQRvGyG7yPWS4I14_waRekzXxFmwSSoC_mII/s1600/IMG_6282.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Perfect for topping cakes, filling swiss rolls, topping cupcakes, topping desserts and ice-cream and, best of all, decadently eating off a teaspoon.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-q2U9oTVoGtBOyPpjabNJGxxVm3hfg6w45gGmj60jgJEF6OpTjmc7WiCSCP4a74iSINdEJ_22FypqNehpTw36g0GMvvNVDUBMlflQb1x7dmuJtSWqxlZm9uGKpiO6SlrlcHr0nYOwAM/s1600/IMG_6284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-q2U9oTVoGtBOyPpjabNJGxxVm3hfg6w45gGmj60jgJEF6OpTjmc7WiCSCP4a74iSINdEJ_22FypqNehpTw36g0GMvvNVDUBMlflQb1x7dmuJtSWqxlZm9uGKpiO6SlrlcHr0nYOwAM/s1600/IMG_6284.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-41888726522683436292014-08-03T22:03:00.000-07:002014-08-03T22:03:06.735-07:00USE IT - DON'T LOSE IT: Vin d'OrangeI kept some oranges aside from the lovely gift of oranges that I used for marmalade, for further experimentation. I wanted to see how many interesting things I could do with the seville oranges. I used a few of them in a delicious autumn soup of mixed root vegetables, pumpkin and chorizo, and then I found a promising recipe in the book <i>Salt Sugar Smoke</i>, Colette's Vin d'Orange.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPR3rRTLkZ50_erPgcIWwqr7xeGmeVZifAm27iY1ZYpkjAtaQ9-pNFCMj7vwNz5LO-TO-EZ4F9pA4lNnxOXRDH_gSeIetd8o35Mdg2JNIBVX2HSi7UMfG3-9OuLFN8OmLjH174H0OHgA/s1600/IMG_5546.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPR3rRTLkZ50_erPgcIWwqr7xeGmeVZifAm27iY1ZYpkjAtaQ9-pNFCMj7vwNz5LO-TO-EZ4F9pA4lNnxOXRDH_gSeIetd8o35Mdg2JNIBVX2HSi7UMfG3-9OuLFN8OmLjH174H0OHgA/s1600/IMG_5546.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Weigh out 500g oranges. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ1GdDIdSFzPs3cYp8BQYEQOEdpZYxXO8Fx2B0UM0HxulZNu4NwQR0DT8IGg0uNVIUwucyruSJQwB2Wb4qWjxpMArTIwqhB8QFVn6akL9_PtHISdO4YfsV0ZAT8EUj1fKY_PAL9wEEtqI/s1600/IMG_5549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ1GdDIdSFzPs3cYp8BQYEQOEdpZYxXO8Fx2B0UM0HxulZNu4NwQR0DT8IGg0uNVIUwucyruSJQwB2Wb4qWjxpMArTIwqhB8QFVn6akL9_PtHISdO4YfsV0ZAT8EUj1fKY_PAL9wEEtqI/s1600/IMG_5549.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Chop them roughly.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDctfOGnkCk9numcr-u5uyjkLw9AilQhX64xYU4X2b_XfjEbibKp9YxSmXub2WvXFqZqdRV4KkcFxd14GzZXoB-hRIaYaxstWtLeDKK6ZZljmlFNNYFx1YTweb6S2Pk8q-f6bsOCevjlI/s1600/IMG_5551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDctfOGnkCk9numcr-u5uyjkLw9AilQhX64xYU4X2b_XfjEbibKp9YxSmXub2WvXFqZqdRV4KkcFxd14GzZXoB-hRIaYaxstWtLeDKK6ZZljmlFNNYFx1YTweb6S2Pk8q-f6bsOCevjlI/s1600/IMG_5551.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Place them in a large, sterilised jar. Pour over a bottle of white wine. Stand the jar in a cool dark place for 2 weeks.<br />
<br />
Strain the liquid, add sugar to taste and 1/3 cup of brandy. Pour into a pretty glass bottle and see how long you can keep it before you taste it.<br />
<br />
If you are anything like me, you will drink it before you have a chance to photograph it. It is that delicious.Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-73408762565457341442014-08-03T00:20:00.002-07:002014-08-03T00:24:14.007-07:00A Late Winter MorningIt's early Sunday morning. Kariba, my red-brown Rhodesian Ridgeback stirs in her bed. The moment she sees me open my eyes she begins to whine quietly, asking to go outside.<br />
"Do you want to go outside? I ask her.<br />
Immediately she sits up smartly in her bed and wags her tail, her eyes never leaving mine. I throw back the puffy bedcovers and swing my sock-clad feet onto the wooden floor, trying not to creak the old floorboards as I put on my slippers and dressing gown and head towards the kitchen. Tag, the fat Jack Russel joins us. Kariba and Tag politely sit while I unlock the back door. The instant it is open a crack, our two male Ridgebacks barge into the kitchen, pushing and shoving Kariba back inside. I open the door wide and call them all outside so that, in their exuberance, they don't wake Grant. It is quite common for him to receive slobbery kisses from three of our four dogs while he is still trying to sleep. The click-clacking of their toenails on the floor is enough to disturb any pleasant dreams.<br />
<br />
The sun has just risen and there is no frost on the bleached lawn. It is cool, but warm enough for me to wander outside, enjoying the dogs' romping in the morning light. I walk into the chicken yard and up the slope, towards the henhouse. On my way I startle our two piglets who are stealing the remains of the grain thrown down for the chickens last night. They run towards me, grunting and squealing, expecting me to give them breakfast, but I see that they still haven't finished their dinner last night. We had mixed it with water instead of the usual whey, as I hadn't made any cheese yesterday. The piglets would rather snout around and root up the grass that I am coaxing to grow in the chicken yard, than eat their leftover dinner.<br />
<br />
There is a lot of jostling and clucking coming from the white henhouse as the chickens crowd around the wire gate waiting to be let out for the day. Arrietty and Homily do not budge from their nests as the rest of the flock pour out into the morning. Arrietty, a pretty young hen dotted in shades of white, black and orange, is sitting on six eggs. They should hatch any day now. She warns me with a throaty high pitched warble as I reach my hand under her, but doesn't peck me. There are no signs of cracks on the warm pink-brown eggs, nor do I hear any tiny peeps from beneath her feathers. I leave brown and black speckled Homily alone. The last time I looked she was sitting in the nesting box, all broody with nothing beneath her. A little later on, when I am collecting the morning's eggs, I will check whether she has laid any. If not I will give her all the eggs for the next three days. I was hoping for eggs for breakfast this morning, but yesterday we only found one. There is some chervil growing in a pot on our kitchen windowsill and I have a craving for a cheesy chervil omelette. Oh well, it will have to be muesli instead.<br />
<br />
I turn the lever for the chicken's water trough and make my way out the henhouse yard, past the piglets in the large chicken yard, out the gate and into the vegetable tunnel. The piglets look up with brown, sandy snouts and then turn their backs, ignoring me, and continue digging up the grass. There is not much growing in the tunnel besides cabbages. Most of the beds are resting, covered in a dry grass mulch, waiting for the frosty winter to pass. I turn the round red tap next to the spindly leeks at the top of the tunnel and water gushes into the chicken trough. I have closed the chickens into their smaller henhouse yard to encourage the hens to think about laying their eggs in the henhouse. There is enough uneaten grain in there to keep them busy. I stand at the fence that separates the henhouse yard from the veggie tunnel, watching the social interaction between the chickens. The two young charcoal coloured roosters crow again and again and stretch their proud wings. I notice that when I throw some cabbage leaves over the fence, they do not dare join the fray in fear of the old patriarch, Mr Montgomery. Our sole winter chick, a still peeping grey hen-chick scuttles after her little grey mother, Mary Thompson. Old Mrs Montgomery and Peg, with her gammy leg, have faded combs and I am sure that they have stopped laying for good. They leave that job to the young hens. We have fifteen chickens now.<br />
<br />
I pull up two baby turnips on my way out the tunnel and once back in the big chicken yard, I call the piglets over. They rush towards me and are each rewarded with a turnip. Back in the henhouse yard, I turn the valve again to shut off the water to the chicken trough that has been overflowing and running down the slope while I was watching the flock. There is a sudden spray of water hitting plastic as the irrigation line along the back of the tunnel fills and sprays up onto the plastic and drips back down on the slow-growing leeks. It has been too long since I made leek pie. By now fat leeks should have been replaced with broad beans in that bed. We were slow in planting them last summer and they did not have a chance to strengthen before the icy weather came.<br />
<br />
The disgruntled chickens stand at the gate as I leave them shut in the smaller yard. The piglets, seeing me back in their space, run behind me, nibbling at my furry slippered heels. It is very cute, but a slight anxiety grips me as I walk quickly away from them, and one piglet runs faster, keeping up with my heels. They haven't bitten yet, but I believe that pigs can bite. I distract them by running water into an empty container and slip out the gate and back inside. Kariba follows me in and settles back into her bed, and so do I. Grant is just waking and greets me with a sleepy hello.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsPVYWW2h4aPGcQeanYh7SLFjJ7VD75ihLfMhMNoE5r__RPEY8MUUYchA3DoSZSNCQr7NzZY2o6aFq2jYsRNZVHPi45Q_xfb89-ObG8ktXVmGS_ODnga83w_ADD_v6vFNxNg21g31QIs/s1600/IMG_6237.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsPVYWW2h4aPGcQeanYh7SLFjJ7VD75ihLfMhMNoE5r__RPEY8MUUYchA3DoSZSNCQr7NzZY2o6aFq2jYsRNZVHPi45Q_xfb89-ObG8ktXVmGS_ODnga83w_ADD_v6vFNxNg21g31QIs/s1600/IMG_6237.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-91114893472661411852014-08-02T03:02:00.000-07:002014-08-02T07:11:34.347-07:00Small Town Market <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrBT-JPjNh8ZO8Klsw-qjD9k7SmNiyi1cyyLG9mnuL5Mt3IGKP_Xa-AvnFmupMEZujN7ae_hQE9h-_fcVcGhY7Kxn68EgJTTT_zlWMuIOpdgsee98AoW7QiU8lhWp3h8hOednI6qiYRU/s1600/IMG_5683.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/AVvXsEgKrBT-JPjNh8ZO8Klsw-qjD9k7SmNiyi1cyyLG9mnuL5Mt3IGKP_Xa-AvnFmupMEZujN7ae_hQE9h-_fcVcGhY7Kxn68EgJTTT_zlWMuIOpdgsee98AoW7QiU8lhWp3h8hOednI6qiYRU/s1600/IMG_5683.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a>It is a lazy Saturday morning. The cold sun is casting pale light on the creamy white curtains. We are lounging in bed, avoiding the inevitable tidying, sorting and dish washing after a successful Moonlight Market last night. We did well at the market. It is rewarding to see people queuing at our stall, squabbling over the last two custard filled croissants or encouraging their friends to taste our new caramel cream sauce.<br />
<br />
I love the markets and the chance to interact with friends and familiar faces in our small town. It is the two monthly markets that helped me to feel more a part of this community. It is gratifying to prepare treats for folk who are so appreciative. Nicol and Klaradyn, in their generosity, open up their restaurant garden for a first Friday of the month market under the stars. When I asked Klaradyn why we can't pay to set up our stall, she answered that it is something they must do. Their foresight and kindness has enhanced the sense of community in this nook of the Eastern Free State.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsB6TgTktIc28RKXlSh9jLB6O5qUQ4tP_8EBXYyPydmn9K8v8F-C8qVTrZVtNST3p8XVbwf_xfCMWOQrJvIzx0tnUmqUXfg0tuKQNGvLYgxrU1ygPtJB1tV6cnC3jSs-akzx5Y5uThkf4/s1600/IMG_6284.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/AVvXsEjsB6TgTktIc28RKXlSh9jLB6O5qUQ4tP_8EBXYyPydmn9K8v8F-C8qVTrZVtNST3p8XVbwf_xfCMWOQrJvIzx0tnUmqUXfg0tuKQNGvLYgxrU1ygPtJB1tV6cnC3jSs-akzx5Y5uThkf4/s1600/IMG_6284.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>I have learned which customers like which products, and we try to satisfy them at each market. Hilli, who lives alone always buys a small tub of plain cream cheese. Ed the engineer who teases me about leaving the profession, and Jessica, his wife, want some garlicky hummus. Alexis, a delightfully dignified horsey lady, phoned me at home before one winter market to find out whether we would be there in the cold weather, and whether I would be making pannacotta, a vanilla cream dessert. She returns my used tubs for recycling and always brings a carrier bag for me to fill with a selection from the table. Brian nags for honey when we have decided not to sell any more, Candy can't get enough croissants, Sue loves our bacon, and Karen will only buy the pannacotta when it is in the wide shallow tubs and not the deep narrow ones where her teaspoon cannot reach all the way to the bottom of the tub in one scoop.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIF__jMfvdS0fu11rhBS53NbBYPvdZx4IsSYfSu4T9a5fDs7auiL21e6l1KjXJHXjh3nPC5FgSzhnFASvk71kiSC5bfKghArQFIGngNG1p3vYhcT5dHuY707oAh9QVTCY-3zn8XPV5eWE/s1600/IMG_5687.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/AVvXsEiIF__jMfvdS0fu11rhBS53NbBYPvdZx4IsSYfSu4T9a5fDs7auiL21e6l1KjXJHXjh3nPC5FgSzhnFASvk71kiSC5bfKghArQFIGngNG1p3vYhcT5dHuY707oAh9QVTCY-3zn8XPV5eWE/s1600/IMG_5687.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a>I love these people. They have taught me to love this town. The second Saturday morning of the month farmer's market, set up as a tea garden on Fonteyn and Zoe's farm has its regulars too. The two Carols almost always come, one buys halloumi and the other a tub of thyme chabrie marinated in olive oil with garlic and rosemary. Willie and Annelieze usually chat to me in their Swiss German accents and always buy something. They are interesting and interested. I met Liz and JB, an American missionary couple at this market. They love my ice-creams so much, especially the coconut ice cream, that they will drive all the way from Lesotho to our farm, when they have a craving for it. Pierre, the Canadian Frenchman enjoys a chocolate croissant with his morning coffee.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6DXFgDJ9o1SgvvRjLKPduWXzP6RFpR2k8Ox6dDADvm3ku05E3wSYgurr9SfchI194r6bB4FUv_j9ig4J0dx67hyphenhyphenp6cTD0w4w5RiCImmIZtWVvbTOItXsVJRBIa04iT5QR4SSZ9gJMVR0/s1600/IMG_5996.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/AVvXsEg6DXFgDJ9o1SgvvRjLKPduWXzP6RFpR2k8Ox6dDADvm3ku05E3wSYgurr9SfchI194r6bB4FUv_j9ig4J0dx67hyphenhyphenp6cTD0w4w5RiCImmIZtWVvbTOItXsVJRBIa04iT5QR4SSZ9gJMVR0/s1600/IMG_5996.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a><br />
I usually treat myself to a pot of tea at the morning market, and a punnet or two of seedlings for my garden bought from Alita, a headmistress for a local Christian school and a gracious lady. She is my age, but something about her reminds me of my mum. Last month I came home with a tray of tiny onion seedlings which are now planted in between the larger onions in our tunnel. They had been planted too far apart. I also buy at least six R4 samosas from the lovely Muslim couple whose stall is next to mine. He does catering for a living and has kindly agreed to collect glass jars for me. Having enough jars to preserve the summer harvest is always a challenge.<br />
<br />
I could go on and on about the wonderful people in this wonderful town, but I am afraid I might bore you. <span style="text-align: center;">So, with purse full and heart considerably fuller, I get up late, shower, wash my hair and prepare to spend most of my Saturday tackling the mountain of dishes waiting in the kitchen sink. </span><br />
<br />
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5925114295361790178.post-11453785698726033292014-05-20T01:17:00.000-07:002014-05-20T01:19:57.900-07:00Fast Food: Eggs FlorentineSometimes I need a night off and really don't feel like cooking. Sometimes that feeling lasts for days. Back in Cape Town we would have bought take-aways for dinner on days like that. Here on the farm, it would take longer to drive to town and back for take-aways than it would take to rustle up fast food Elastic Mom style. Anyway, greasy take-aways leave me feeling dissatisfied and disgusted after eating farm fresh all the time.<br />
<br />
A while back I was having one of those cooking-is-the-last-thing-I-want-to-do moments. A little bit of thought, and I had a nourishing, yom-chomp dinner on the table in 15 minutes flat.<br />
<br />
EGGS FLORENTINE<br />
Set a small pot of water to boil<br />
Pop some bread in the toaster<br />
Warm up some leftover cheese sauce<br />
Drop a sealed bag of our frozen chopped tunnel-grown swiss chard into the pot of boiling water and as soon as it has defrosted, remove the bag and stir the contents into the cheese sauce.<br />
Pour a dash of vinegar into the same boiling water and crack in three eggs to poach.<br />
<br />
When the toast pops, plate it and spoon over the cheesy spinach sauce and top with perfectly poached eggs and season. Voila!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtHY7dROprLUcGOvGKEZLYiWlfVFJOfrUv9qE3QOEhb6r70M3QMRQZYmWgYhxLcLmiuDwCsy575KchWZYrpN2jwNJAsC3trHHY_RpGUmqGQwOTT1ciQbdhQDDDmNW8lYnGhGELfEqnlHM/s1600/IMG_5413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtHY7dROprLUcGOvGKEZLYiWlfVFJOfrUv9qE3QOEhb6r70M3QMRQZYmWgYhxLcLmiuDwCsy575KchWZYrpN2jwNJAsC3trHHY_RpGUmqGQwOTT1ciQbdhQDDDmNW8lYnGhGELfEqnlHM/s1600/IMG_5413.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
My men reacted as if I had made a gourmet meal for them. There was lots of lip smacking, yom yomming through dinner. If I had thought of it at the time, I would have added a classic few drops of Worcester Sauce onto each egg. So there it is, fast food at its best. I know that it required little bags of frozen spinach and some leftover cheese sauce, but that's my point...<br />
<br />
We all have something better than take-away that we can rustle up faster than it takes to find the keys on those low-energy evenings.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Cathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12551483728682810449noreply@blogger.com0