Rural Revolution

The blessing of local fruit

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Sun, 30 Aug 2026 21:27:52 +0000

I walked into the grocery store recently and turned to go into the produce section. There I was confronted by crates of peaches, 22 lbs. for $39.88, or $1.81/lb.

And not just peaches. Blueberries, blackberries, strawberries, apples, plums ... the selection was impressive ... AND expensive.

Various types of apples were on sale, $2.99 for 3 lbs. ($1/lb.).

Plums were $1.99/lb.

Six ounces of blackberries were $3.49, equivalent to $9.31/lb.

Same price for blueberries.

Regrettably, I did not get a photo of their strawberries, so I checked on the store's website and saw they were selling strawberries for $4.59/lb.

Meanwhile, back at the farm...

Peaches.

Apples.

Plums.

Blackberries.

Blueberries.

And of course, strawberries.

The blessing of local fruit.

Did you see the lunar eclipse?

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Fri, 28 Aug 2026 14:18:24 +0000

There was a lunar eclipse last night. Did you see it?

Articles kept saying it would happen just after midnight. Since I'm an early-to-bed kinda gal, I figured I'd miss it. However when the moon rose at our place around 9 pm, the eclipse was already in progress (that "midnight" timeline was apparently Eastern Time).

So I stood in our side yard, balancing the camera as best I could on the top wire of the pasture fence, and photographed the progress.

Comically what I didn't realize was there were some deer in the pasture who were becoming more and more alarmed at my quiet presence. I was just about to press the camera shutter when one of them snorted nearby (an alarm signal), and I was so startled that this was the result.

At any rate, I followed the progress until at last the moon showed the merest sliver.

And there it stayed. And stayed. And stayed. I don't know if we weren't predicted to have a total eclipse or I just ran out of patience (it was my bedtime), but I never did see the total eclipse.

Early this morning, the moon was full and bright, setting on the western horizon.

I watched it until it set.

Did anyone else see the eclipse?

What it takes to live "comfortably"

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Thu, 27 Aug 2026 15:07:30 +0000

A staggeringly unrealistic article recently came out entitled "This Is The Income A Family Needs To Live Comfortably In Every U.S. State."

As expected, certain high cost-of-living states dominated the list, such as California, Massachusetts, Hawaii, etc. In these states, the income necessary for a "comfortable" lifestyle can top $300,000.

So of course, the first thing I looked up is the income necessary for a comfortable lifestyle in Idaho. And do you know what income allegedly is? $226,000!!!!!

My outraged comment to Don was, "On what planet?"

Seriously, I know no one – literally no one – whose income even remotely approaches that ballpark, yet the vast majority of us are able to live "comfortably" (though unquestionably a little more income for most people would be welcome).

These stats are based on two working adults with two children. According to the article, the numbers are "based on the familiar 50/30/20 budget: 50% for necessities, 30% for discretionary spending, and 20% for savings or other goals. These aren’t bare-minimum survival numbers – they’re what it takes to live pretty well while still putting money aside."

That's fine and dandy, but I guess what isn't clear is how they define "comfortable." Perhaps it's the economic point where people don't have to think about or worry about money? The trouble with this definition is it doesn't account for lifestyle creep: Those whose earnings approach the "comfortable" level often opt for more expensive cars, homes, goods, services, etc., and then complain they can't "afford" everything they want.

Within reason – I'm not talking about those living in poverty or mired in medical debt – it seems to me it's far better to be grateful that we can afford the daily comforts we take for granted.

By that definition, the vast majority of people are already "comfortable."

Rest in peace, Dolly Parton

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Tue, 25 Aug 2026 19:13:12 +0000

I was saddened today to learn that Dolly Parton has passed away.

I've always admired Dolly for her humor, her wit, and her generous heart. She never forgot her roots, and strove to improve the lives and economic opportunities of her home region by opening Dollywood, among much else.

Since her husband of sixty years passed away less than 18 months ago, I suspect Dolly just lost the heart to go on.

Rest in peace, Ms. Parton.

Getting into freelance writing

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Sat, 22 Aug 2026 23:06:35 +0000

In response to my recent post "What a Way to Make a Living," a reader left a comment as follows: "Maybe you've done this already, but how does one go about getting into freelance writing? I'm more of a non-fiction type of guy but I guess I could fictionalize some of my old police cases that might be interesting to some people."

This is a complex subject to tackle, but I'll give it my best shot. The following advice and information is solely based on Don's and my experience over the years.

Nonfiction (Short) Writing

• Build a platform. Whether it's fiction or nonfiction, both agents and editors like it when you already have a following of sorts. That's why this blog has become more and more valuable over the years; it acts not just as a sounding board for our lifestyle, but as a marketing tool for our writing. (Along those lines, I can't tell you how much we appreciate you all!)

• If you're new to the nonfiction industry, start by writing what you know rather than tackling subjects that require investigation. Whether it's an opinion piece, or an experience, or a project you've completed, it's best to come from a position of authority.

• Make sure you know the subject. Writing from ignorance, even an opinion piece, can harm your writing career.

• Meet deadlines. This cannot be emphasized strongly enough. Meet deadlines.

• The editor is always right. If s/he suggests changes, don't argue. Make the changes. If you can't or won't make those changes, it's better to withdraw the piece.

• Submit clean content, meaning syntax, punctuation, spelling, and grammar are all as correct as you can make them. If accepted, your piece will go through additional copy-editing by various editors, but you're far more likely to get rejected if your original piece is poorly written. Believe me, I've been on the editorial side of things a fair bit, and it's astounding how much bad content gets submitted. I remember having to edit one woman's weekly submissions (she was, let's just say, extremely high up in the journalism world) and her pieces were virtually illiterate. I am not exaggerating or using that term lightly. It was some of the worst writing, bar none, I have ever seen. Many times, I had to email her to get clarity on what she meant by this or that point. Often I had to rewrite her entire submission to make it readable. I am genuinely bewildered how she achieved the professional credentials she did. Don't be that person.

• Never ever ever EVER ever ever ever EVER submit something written by AI. There's no faster way to get both round-filed and blacklisted by editors.

• If submitting to magazines, know in advance the publication's focus (it won't do any good to send instructions for knitting lace doilies to a backpacking magazine), writing style (first person POV? third person?), and word count. Word count is especially important. Fortunately, most magazines print writing guidelines for the type and length of content they accept.

• Some magazines are far more open to submissions from unknown writers than others, such as our beloved Backwoods Home Magazine (and its sister publication, Self-Reliance). Other publications are way too massive to pay attention to the Little Guy and your submissions are likely to end up in the slush pile unless the subject matter is especially unique. (In other words, you're unlikely to be accepted to "Better Homes & Gardens" or "National Geographic" until you're far more established.)

• Sometimes – and it pains me to say this – you might have to give some of your writing away for free to begin developing credentials. It took a while for me to build up enough writing credits that I could expect decent compensation for my work.

Nonfiction Books

• Whether you're submitting through an agent or directly to a publisher, a nonfiction book requires a proposal. This consists of a Hook, a Summary, the Theme, the Audience, a Marketing Plan, Manuscript Status (hopefully completed!), a list of Other Books you've written, and then of course the Synopsis and first Three Chapters for the work you're submitting. A proposal is a hassle to write, but usually it's only required once per publisher. Keep in mind the agent or publisher doesn't know you from Adam, so your job is to convince them you're worth the risk and a suitable long-term investment (as opposed to a one-hit wonder).

• Again, having a built-in platform is invaluable to get yourself noticed.

• Write about your passion(s). Years ago, I remember the moment I decided to write "The Simplicity Primer." I was deeply into the subject and wasn't able to find any books that reflected my personal angle on the matter. I was taking a walk when it suddenly came over me like a thunderclap that I was just as qualified to write about simple living as anyone else. The rest is history.

Fiction Novels

• Hone your craft. Fiction is a different animal than nonfiction. You need to be able to write convincing dialog in a way that doesn't jerk the reader out of the story. You need to understand points of view and the balance between dialog and narration. You need to understand how to show, not tell. You need to understand goals, motivation, and conflict. I have many writing reference books in our library, and two of the best are "The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes" by Jack M. Bickham, and the appropriately named "Goal, Motivation & Conflict" by Debra Dixon.

• Build a platform. I'm sounding like a broken record, right? Yep, once again anyone (agents and/or publishers) who is taking a chance on your fiction novel wants to see that you already have a connection with readers through some sort of social media presence. Welcome to the modern world. I explained some of my platform travails from the beginning of my fiction career in this blog post. Trust me when I say an agent is far, far more likely to accept you as a client if you have a pre-built social media platform to bring to the table. An excellent reference on this subject is the appropriately named book "Platform: Get Noticed in a Noisy World" by Michael Hyatt, keeping in mind it's a bit out of date with regards to social media.

• Be patient. It took an entire year for my first Harlequin submission (sent through my agent) to filter up through the various slush piles and catch an editor's eye. (I remember the moment: I was standing at my computer desk when I saw the email my agent sent. I remember saying out loud to Don, in a voice of wonder and disbelief, "I sold a book.") During that period of waiting, (a) don't nag, though a polite inquiry every few months is fine; and (b) write some other stuff. During that year of waiting, I kept writing and had two more rough manuscripts ready to polish and submit by the time the first one was accepted. Editors far prefer steady, dependable writers over one-hit wonders.

• Beware of anyone, whether agent or editor or publisher, who requests money to get your work in print. Remember this mantra: Money should flow to the writer. There are TONS of scam artists out there who are clever at parting writers from their cash in exchange for grandiose promises to get your work published and marketed. You might as well send your money to that Nigerian prince. That said, there are self-publishing options (discussed below) that may require an initial outlay of funds to get the work in print; and of course, there are legitimate marketing services which can vastly increase your exposure, though they're way too expensive for our budget.

• The editor is always right. If s/he suggests changes, don't argue. Make the changes. This applies just as much in the fiction realm as the nonfiction. That's why I had to re-do my latest Harlequin proposal. And you know what? The result is inevitably a better story.

• Along those lines, get your ego out of the way. Ego-driven writers refuse to alter what they see as the Perfect Novel. Editors hate working with writers like that. While some novice writers explode onto the scene and make history with their international best-seller, those are few and far between. Don't be hard to work with. If you feel strongly that your work is Perfect as it is and your editor disagrees, it might be better to publish it yourself.

• Get used to rejection. And I mean, really used to it. Don't let it get you down or discourage you from continuing the pursuit. I've wanted to be a writer for literally decades, and it's only in the last ten years or so that things have really come to fruition. Don't give up. (This applies to both fiction and nonfiction writing.)

Self Publishing

Most of you know we dipped our toes into the self-publishing world last year when we published "Rachel's Folly." Despite the success of the book, our experience in this realm is limited.

• Self publishing (or indie publishing) has advantages for newbies in that it allows some enormously talented but unknown writers to get their works available to the public. The downside is, despite all efforts, very few readers – much less agents or publishers – are likely to notice the book without a vast amount of marketing efforts on your part. Those who are clever and skilled in this area can do quite well, and sometimes are even picked up by traditional publishers, thus launching a writing career. The talented James Wesley Rawles, founder of SurvivalBlog, falls into this category with his book "Patriots: A Novel of Survival in the Coming Collapse."

• The mantra "Money should flow to the writer" still applies to indie publishing, within reason. Sometimes you have to outlay some funds for certain marketing opportunities, but less than you might think. Generally if someone contacts you out of the blue to offer their services, it's usually (but not always) an elaborate scam. Be discerning.

This only scratches the surface of the vast world of freelance writing, but I hope it's helpful to the reader quoted above.

Bringing in (some of) the hay

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Sat, 22 Aug 2026 00:41:36 +0000

It's that time of year when we need to start considering winter. This means, among much else, bringing in the hay.

Last year, somewhat out of desperation, we purchased a moderate amount of oat hay to tide us over the winter when we ran low on feed. Not oat straw; but oat hay, with the seeds intact. There was nothing else available for sale. It made for immensely heavy bales, but the seller assured us his cows loved it.

Yowza, he wasn't kidding. Our cows positively stinkin' adore this oat hay. So, since the seller's prices are comparable to regular grass hay, we let him know early in the spring that we were committing to purchasing eight tons when he harvested his fields.

Before we could take delivery, however, we needed to figure out how to stack and store the hay. This took several weeks of strategic planning. The reason is because neither Don nor I are willing (or even able) to lift 100-lb bales, much less 160 of them (eight tons), at our age. We needed to let the tractor do the heavy lifting. To do that, we needed specialized implements. And so the planning began.

We already have heavy-duty spikes that attach to the tractor bucket that can be used to support heavy things, such as hay bales. But when Don tried to stab a bale with these spikes to lift it, the spikes were too thick and didn't penetrate the bale. They merely push it. Last year we got by with these spikes because I pushed every bale on top of the spikes, but it was brutally hard work and awkward to place the bales where we wanted.

So this year, Don wanted spikes that actually penetrated the bales. To this end, he worked with a neighbor who does welding and metal work. Don ordered a couple of stainless steel rods capable of supporting 200 lbs. each and brought them to the neighbor. This fellow sharpened the tips of the rods into a dull point, and then welded the rods to a base that could attach to the tractor bucket. This way, Don could stab a bale to move it. As it turned out, these steel rods worked extremely well.

We ordered a delivery of 20 pallets from a nearby hardware store. We have pallets all over the place, but by this point most of them are so rotten and broken that they're not worth much more than scrap wood. This hardware store sells newer pallets for $4/each (delivered). We'd have gone to pick them up ourselves, but we're without a truck at the moment so delivery worked better.

The next thing Don did was to order fork-lift attachments that fit on the front of the tractor bucket. The idea is we could stack the bales on a pallet, lift the loaded pallet with this fork-life attachment, and transport the pallets into the barn and/or into an outdoor location to be tarped for the winter (we knew in advance we didn't have room in the barn for all eight tons).

Next, of course, we cleaned the barn and made as much space as possible.

The issue of stacking the bales was compounded by a lack of room. The driveway area in front of the barn is V-shaped and bisected by an enormous plum tree, as well as being sloped. The barn itself is limited in space since it has both the wood shop and the tool shop bracketing the center aisle, so maneuverability with the tractor is limited.

This is the reality of what we have to deal with. Our job was to make it work.

The seller made arrangements to deliver the first two tons, which come in two-strand 100-lb. bales. Here, Don is directing the farmer who is backing his trailer up our lower driveway.

Forty bales. That's our first load. It would be an opportunity to test our equipment and techniques to see what works and what doesn't.

These are the steel tines. They worked beautifully as long as we positioned them lower in the bale. If they were higher, they just slid out the top and snagged the baling twine, which was too unsteady (the bales were more likely to explode).

You can see the tips of the tines poking out.

By this technique, we managed to get first four, then six bales neatly stacked on a few pallets. My job during this process was not just guiding Don on the finer points of positioning, but then to push and shove the bales into cross-wise positions (since there was no room for the tractor to come in from different directions).

Incidentally, we stacked the pallets under the plum tree in the driveway, which proceeded to rain overripe squishy plums on top.

As we worked, we squashed plums underfoot and against the pallets. Honestly, it looked like we were working in a crime scene, with blood smeared everywhere.

After we got a few pallets stacked, it was time to remove the steel tine attachments and switch over to the fork lift attachments to move the pallets into the barn.

As it turned out, Don got the wrong-sized attachments. He thought the 43-inch attachments would suffice, rather than the 60-inch attachments. What he didn't realize was those measurements didn't apply simply to the length of the tines, but to the overall length of the attachments (including the portion that affixes to the tractor bucket). As a result, the tines didn't extend or support the entire width of a pallet, which meant transporting a pallet of hay bales was tippy to the point of dangerous.

The first pallet he tried to pick up tipped, tumbling all the bales off and exploding one of them. Grunt.

This was due, in part, to the limitations of the tractor as well. The weight of the bales plus the pallet, cantilevered out from the front of the bucket, was too much for the hydraulics on the tractor. He could lift the pallet, but the hydraulics would not let him tip it inward to compensate for the angle of lift, so everything fell off. Ironically, if he had the means to attach the fork-life tines to the back of the tractor, he could have lifted all six bales with ease – but we didn't have that. In other words, we had to figure things out as we went.

In the end, we restacked the pallets with four bales instead of six, and that worked well enough that he could carefully creep and transport a few pallets in the barn. Frustratingly, there wasn't enough space in the barn to maneuver the tractor to stack the pallets in a tidy rectangular arrangement. Instead, we had to put them in a diagonal formation. We tried stacking ten bales high, with me standing on a stepstool to position the bales while directing Don on the tractor. It. Took. Hours.

By this point we had some weather moving in (thunderstorm), so we hastily transported the contents of the exploded bale inside. We just dumped the hay on the floor, to be used first.

Then we tarped the remaining stacked pallets until conditions cleared. (We moved them into the barn a couple days later.)

Processing these forty bales took, I kid you not, about eight hours of work – and we still have another 120 bales coming in! At least now we have a better idea of what works and what doesn't. We estimate we can fit about half the total number of bales in the barn, and the rest will have to be stacked and stoutly tarped outside. It will actually be easier to stack them outside since at least there's a little more maneuvering room than in the barn.

I guess all this exercise is keeping us healthy at our age....

Romeo's new home

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Thu, 20 Aug 2026 17:13:35 +0000

Our steer Romeo has a new home as of this morning: The freezer.

Romeo got his name from being born on Valentine's Day last year. However when we castrated him, it was under hasty and pressing conditions (we didn't yet have the calf pen built, so had to cobble together a pen made of hay bales and smuggle him in without his mother noticing). Bottom line, the banding wasn't as complete as we'd hoped. Romeo grew into a bull

Despite his attempts whenever a cow or heifer went into heat, none of the ladies ever fell pregnant, so that was good. He was shooting blanks, but he was still shooting. And, since Romeo's attitude was getting more and more bullish, we knew it was time to take care of that.

So this morning we got him into the pen on the side of the barn without much trouble. Once there, however, Romeo decided to wrench the gate off its hinges and get out into the driveway so he could schmooze with the girls over the fence.

Fortunately we were able to re-hang the gate and lure him back in without much trouble, and then I stood guard for an hour until the butcher showed up. It was a good thing, too, because let me tell you, Romeo was acting like a bull the whole time.

Even as I type this, the butcher is finishing up the job (bleeding, gutting, skinning) before taking him to the meat shop where he'll hang for ten days or so. We'll have the meat back in about two weeks.

Yeah, it's a lot easier to keep a bull in a freezer than on the hoof.

A little family history

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Wed, 19 Aug 2026 00:35:11 +0000

My dad (who turned 91 in July) just sent a short email around to the family:

"70 years ago today (18Aug56) I was sworn in to the USAF."

I thought this was amazing and worth sharing.

What a way to make a living

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Mon, 17 Aug 2026 20:45:59 +0000

It's been a year and a half since my job layoff in February of 2025. Since that time, we have made our living exclusively through freelance writing (supplemented by Don's modest Social Security).

In many respects, it's a dream come true. Yes, our income dropped significantly and we had to tighten our belts (something to which we're well accustomed over the course of our marriage); but in other ways we feel like we're living the dream.

I thought it might be useful to describe the last couple of weeks in terms of what our daily schedule is like to give you an idea of how we're earning our income.

• My Harlequin editor didn't like the latest proposal (synopsis + three chapters) I sent her, and had some specific ideas of the direction she wants the story to go. You never argue with your editor when she makes suggestions (ego has no place in the writing world!). I told her I'd have a revised synopsis to her within a few days, which I did.

• I haven't heard back from this editor yet about her thoughts on the revised synopsis, but I'm currently writing the story. My original deadline for the full manuscript is Sept. 15. My editor is perfectly happy to adjust the deadline based on her suggested revisions, but I'm still hoping to get the story done by the original deadline. To this end, I'm "NaNoWriMo'ing" my way through it, which means I write a minimum of 1665 words per day (roughly half a chapter) toward my goal. Even if my editor has changes she wants in the revised synopsis, I don't see a problem getting the manuscript completed in time **IF** I don't goof off and get lazy.

• I pitched an article to a magazine about making strawberry preserves. It has – literally – come to the point where anytime Don and I do anything around here, we pitch it as an article somewhere. (Our philosophy is, all they can do is say "no"). Sure enough, the editor responded that while a short piece on strawberry preserves would be accepted, she'd rather have a longer piece on what different kinds of ways an abundance of strawberries can be used and/or preserved. So, for the last couple of weeks, I've been engaged in dehydrating strawberries, making syrup, making strawberry pie, etc. Shucky-darn.

• Last year, when we were buried in spaghetti squash, I made a similar pitch on the uses of, and preservation techniques for, this delicious veggie. I remember having a kitchen full of spaghetti squash that I was baking and said to Don, "What a way to make a living."

• I've been going back and forth with the editor of a different magazine about a variety of pitches appropriate to her editorial needs. This has been terrific fun because Don and I spend a lot of time bandying ideas back and forth, including things he can write and things I can write. Just this morning I sent off a lengthy pitch with at least 15 ideas. Even if she only wants a couple, those are still solid contracts. (Update: The editor got back to me and likes almost everything we pitched! – enough to keep Don and I writing for this editor for the next two years at least.)

• Writers track deadlines in different ways, but I use an old-fashioned wall calendar. I put the deadline, magazine, and subject on the calendar a few days ahead of when it's actually due (I hate missing deadlines), and it's an instant visual reminder to get my rear in gear if a deadline is approaching.

• Speaking of deadlines, one of the best ways to establish one's self as a freelance writer is to treat deadlines as gospel rather than a casual commitment. Editors work on tight deadlines themselves, and have no patience in dealing with writers who are not serious about their craft. Last fall when I was down visiting my parents, I received an email from an editor inquiring about the status of a piece I had promised her. The problem is, she and I each had different deadlines on our calendars. Her deadline was November, and my deadline was the following February (and I sent her emails supporting the February deadline). Long story short, she goofed up on her end, but now it meant she was stuck because she needed the article to get the issue to print. So I wrote all night long and got the article to her the next morning. Needless to say, this editor and I have an excellent working relationship.

• I was able to successfully "re-home" a couple of articles that got rejected by one editor by submitting them elsewhere. Different magazines have different editorial needs, and one person's trash is another person's treasure.

• It's always helpful to have "evergreen" subjects you can write about when you have down time. I have a series of ideas for short pieces on how Don constructed this or that convenience on our homestead. I just finished writing up two of these ideas, sent them to Don for clarity on any construction details I might have gotten wrong, and assembled the photos needed to illustrate the articles. For one of the articles, Don created a cartoonized "exploded" diagram from a photo I took to illustrate the process of building the item.

• Most of our writing takes place when we're not otherwise outside doing homestead chores and projects. Don, being a handy guy, works particularly hard on improvement projects. If it's something worth writing about, often he either uses my camera to photograph various steps, or I'll go out at intervals to photograph what he's doing. Then either he or I will write up the project as an article. Don tackles about one-third of our freelance writing pieces, and I do the other two-thirds. We also review each other's work for accuracy and copy editing before submitting anything.

• As a writer, it's crucial not to let setbacks discourage you. If you'll stop writing (or stubbornly dig your heels in) because an editor didn't like a proposal, then you won't make it as a freelancer.

• Our hours are our own. On an ideal day, I knock off a half-chapter of fiction before I milk the cow. (This doesn't always happen. Sometimes I sleep too late, and other times I need to pick strawberries before sunrise before it gets too hot.) Afterward, Don and I have our coffee/tea and scan the news, often reading bits of it out loud to each other. Then we walk the dog and come back for a second cup of coffee/tea, during which I work on emails or on article pitches. I make an early lunch (our big meal of the day) while Don starts a project. Since it's summer and the afternoons are uncomfortably hot, Don and I often skip the second cup of coffee/tea and get right to work outside, then work on writing in the afternoon.We also attend to livestock and garden chores in the early evenings, when the shadows provide heat relief.

And this, dear readers, is how we make a living. A day doesn't go by when I don't stop and thank the Good Lord Above for placing us in this position where we can do what we love and earn an income by it.

A dirty job

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Fri, 14 Aug 2026 23:25:36 +0000

It's been a dry summer, and our pastures – already limited in size to begin with – are pretty much eaten down. As a result, we've been supplementing the cows morning and evening with oat hay.

We only started purchasing oat hay from a local farmer as a stopgap measure last year, and the cows adore it so much that now we prefer to buy it over any other feed source. In fact, we have eight tons being delivered this upcoming week.

But oat hay – or at least last year's batch – seems to pick up a fair amount of dirt clumps in the process of being baled.

When we put flakes of the hay into the feed box, these dirt clumps migrate to the bottom of the feeder and accumulate.

It was on my mind to clean out the feed box from this accumulated dirt. Yesterday afternoon I locked the cows out of the corral (so I wouldn't get any "help" from curious critters), collected a few tools, and got to work.

It became apparent within minutes that this was a far, far bigger task than I anticipated. I don't know why, but I had it in my head that there was maybe a few inches of accumulated dirt. What I'd forgotten is that the angled feed box actually extends to the barn floor. What I was seeing was an accumulation of dirt about 22 inches deep.

Conditions for removing the dirt were cramped. I had to bend over, put my head through the slats (like a cow!), and remove the dirt one-handed. This small broken-handled shovel proved perfect for the task since I could wield it with one hand. The three-pronged garden cultivator was helpful for breaking up packed-down material.

It was like digging a ditch, but a ditch that could only be tackled one-handed while bent over between slats. Because it was hard going, I ended up alternating sides – ten scoops with one arm, ten scoops with the other, etc. I scooped everything into the wheelbarrow.

When the wheelbarrow was full, I wheeled it out of the barn and dumped it on the pile of barn waste.

Progress. (I can still smell this photo.)

It took five full wheelbarrows and an hour's solid work to empty all that dirt. Then I filled another wheelbarrow with the material that had fallen on the barn floor between the feed box and the wheelbarrow.

Task finished.

And look how clean that feed box is!

After all was said and done, my skin was caked with dirt, and after my evening shower (which required the vigorous application of a washcloth) I consigned everything I was wearing to the dirty clothes basket. I woke up this morning with sore arms ... but hey, a dirty job is now finished.

Calling fall

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Thu, 13 Aug 2026 18:16:25 +0000

This morning, standing in front of the open kitchen window, a zephyr breeze brought the scent of earth. "Hmm," I thought. "It's almost like fall." But I didn't say anything, because Don is the official "Calling fall" guy. He just has a good gut instinct for when summer is over.

Mid-morning, I was out picking blueberries. Don was up a ladder, painting a portion of the house siding. He was wearing his radio earphones and wasn't paying much attention to anything else. But something, too, caught his attention. He removed his earphones, sniffed the air, listened to the sound, and called fall.

He came out to where I was picking blueberries and told me. "I called fall at 10:05 this morning."

"Funny you should say that!" I exclaimed, and told him about that little zephyr breeze I felt earlier.

He leaned in and kissed me. "First kiss of fall," he said.

What determines his decision to call fall? The grasses whisper. The sound is sharper. Noises carry farther. Breezes rattle the leaves. The landscape looks tired.

And the birds are quieter. The day when birdsong is less common is one of the triggering events. The birds know.

Our work schedule will gradually shift over the next few weeks to begin battening down for winter. Putting up firewood. Harvesting the garden. Such are the seasons on a homestead.

So yeah ... fall is here.

Survival cookies

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Tue, 11 Aug 2026 17:53:27 +0000

When I put up the recent post on making strawberry preserves, a reader asked why I canned it up in quart jars instead of pints.

Short answer: Just about the only thing we use strawberry preserves for is as a filling for so-called "survival cookies."

Back in our old home, these incredibly delicious filled oatmeal sandwich cookies made the rounds among our group of homeschooling moms. They became dubbed "survival cookies" because they require no fresh ingredients and can be made completely with dried or preserved ingredients.

Because I tend to make survival cookies in large (quadruple) batches at a time, using a quart of strawberry preserves is not unusual.

I thought I'd walk you through my latest batch of survival cookies. Here's the recipe:

Ingredients
• 1 1/2 cup shortening, lard, or butter (I prefer shortening)
• 1 1/2 cup brown sugar (or half brown, half white sugar)
• 1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 1/2 teaspoon baking soda mixed with 6 tablespoons hot water
• 3 cups oatmeal (thick or thin cut)
• 3 cups flour (may use white or whole wheat – I use half-and-half)
• 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
• 1 1/2 teaspoon salt

• Filling (we use strawberry preserves, but use whatever your family enjoys)

Directions
Preheat oven to 350F. Blend shortening, sugar, and vanilla. Add baking soda (in water), nutmeg, and salt. Mix in the flour. Using a stout spoon, stir in the oatmeal by hand (do NOT try to use a mixer for this step, as the dough is too stiff). Stir the dough until it’s thoroughly mixed.

Flour a large breadboard or other surface. Roll the dough thin. Cut with a round cookie or biscuit cutter (I use a clean tuna can). Stack the round cutouts aside until the dough is used up.

Lay the rounds on a cookie sheet and place one teaspoon of the desired filling in the center (dollop it, don’t spread it). Lay another cutout over the top to make a “sandwich.” It is not necessary to seal the edges.

Bake at 350F for 10 to 15 minutes (depending on your oven) until lightly brown. Do not overbake.

Tips
• The cookies do not expand while baking, so they can be (reasonably) crowded on the baking sheet.

• The dough is sticky during the rolling and cutting process. Be very liberal with the use of flour on the breadboard, rolling pin, and dough surface.

• Use a spatula to lift the raw dough cutouts so they won’t tear.

• Because rolling and cutting the cookie dough can be labor intensive, I usually quadruple the recipe and make an enormous batch at once. The recipe multiplies well and surplus cookies freeze beautifully.

• If you’re feeling extra fancy, drizzle a little frosting (powdered sugar + milk) over the baked cookies.

Steps:

Rolling and cutting the dough:

Stacking the cut rounds aside:

Darcy parked under the table, hoping something drops:

All the rounds from a quadruple batch, cut and stacked:

By the time I finished cutting the rounds, it was too late in the day to bake, so I slid two-gallon Ziploc bags over the baking sheets for the night (to keep the dough from drying out);

Dollops of strawberry preserves on the lower layer of the cookies:

Cookies sandwiched and ready to bake:

Enjoy!

One of the (many) reasons I hate AI writing

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Mon, 10 Aug 2026 20:22:32 +0000

I came across an article today about a wild animal encounter in Poland: "Wild Video Captures Giant Bison Flattening Tourist, Refusing to Let Him Escape."

As the title suggests, a tourist got too close to a European bison, which proceeded to knock him flat. Several nearby people acted to save the man from additional pummeling. But while reading the article, it soon became apparent it was written by AI.

I've touched on my gripes with AI writing before (most recently here), but it seems AI has "improved" in the sense that it seldom uses the identifying "trigger" words it once did (unwavering, intricate, commendable, innovative, meticulous, notable, and versatile).

So how did I know the above-linked article was AI?

A couple of things. First, AI loves to use similes (comparing two things using "like" or "as"). From the article: "Video shared on social media shows the bison looming over the fallen tourist like a living wall of muscle, making it painfully clear who controlled the situation."

No journalist worth his salt would ever use a simile in a news article, at least nothing that florid.

Second, AI tries to tell the reader how to feel about the subject in question through the use of over-the-top adjectives. Examples from the article:

• "A tourist learned a brutal lesson..."

• "The terrifying encounter was captured on video as stunned witnesses scrambled to save the man..."

• "Without much warning, the hulking creature surged toward the man..."

• "...making it painfully clear who controlled the situation..."

• "Nature photographer Grzegorz Ryński recorded the frightening scene..."

Et cetera ad nauseam.

Now I'll give this article one benefit of the doubt: It might well have been translated from Polish into English. Had AI not been available for this purpose, likely the subject would never have hit an American news site, so there's that.

But sadly, AI is taking over the written word in so many categories, including journalism. Aside from concerns about factual accuracy (and I have no way of know what, if anything, was factually inaccurate about the tourist/bison piece), AI writing is just ... bad. I know that as soon as I see similes and unnecessary adjectives in a so-called news article, I shut down.

Part of this aversion to AI writing is obvious. I'm a writer. I can see the handwriting on the wall for my beloved craft. I'm grateful beyond words that both my nonfiction editors (the various magazines I write for) as well as my fiction editors (Harlequin et al.) have no intention of using AI-generated content anytime soon.

I hope.

Wealth untold

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Fri, 07 Aug 2026 19:38:47 +0000

This. This. This!

Here's a transcript of what the woman says:

"One of the greatest luxuries in life is being married to the handy guy. Not 'yacht or private jet' rich. I'm talking about a level of wealth that is way more realistic. The dryer starts making a weird noise, and your husband goes, 'Let me take a look at it.' That is wealth.

"Because you know what I do when something breaks? I immediately start calculating how much money it's gonna cost to fix it. My husband hears a strange noise and he gets excited. Excited like the appliance just challenged him to a dual. That man will spend $47 on parts, watch one YouTube video from a guy named Rick in Iowa, disappear into the garage for three hours, and somehow save us $1200. It's unbelievable.

"And handy husbands don't just fix things. They know things. Things that no normal person should know. This man knows the inner workings of every appliance, vehicle, outlet, pipe hinge, and mysterious thing in our house. The best part is the confidence, because I have never seen a handy husband look at a problem and think, 'Hmmm, maybe I should hire a professional.' No. He IS the professional.

"So marry the handy guy, because one day your house is gonna make a noise; and instead of panic, you'll hear the most comforting words a woman could hear: 'I know what's wrong.'"

Amen!!!! Preach it, sister!!!!

A garlic "Eureka"

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Wed, 05 Aug 2026 19:10:07 +0000

When we lived in our last home, I spent years cultivating a beautiful German porcelain-neck variety of garlic. I routinely harvested cloves approaching eggs in size.

When we moved here to our current home in December of 2020, I brought several heads to plant in our future garden. For a variety of reasons (late in the season, no where proper to plant them, etc.), the garlic failed to thrive and my original line of garlic died out. Bummer.

The problem was, I couldn't remember what kind of garlic I had originally ordered so long ago. I do know the company was no longer in business. I ordered what I hoped was something similar online from a different company and was disappointed with the results. I mean sure, it was garlic, but it wasn't jumbo garlic, if you know what I mean. Still, last year's harvest was abundant (21 pounds) and I canned up a staggering 28 pints of chopped garlic. I put aside the largest cloves for replanting.... uh, wait a minute....

Jumbo garlic. That's the magic word I was looking for! I should have been looking for jumbo garlic to plant. (NOT elephant garlic. That's too mild for my taste.) So last fall, I ordered and planted one pound of jumbo garlic (which filled half a bed) and planted the remaining bed-and-a-half with the regular garlic I'd been growing.

Last week I harvested the garlic.

There was no question about the results. Eureka! I have my large cloves back!

It was pure joy to dig up these heads and see the size of the cloves.

It didn't take long to harvest both beds.

I ended up with two crates.

I set these near the back porch to cure for a couple of days.

Then I snipped off the stems.

Here's a better size comparison between the "regular" garlic and the jumbo stuff.

Once again, I have cloves approaching an egg in size. Woot!

I don't plan to mince and can this year's crop. I still have plenty of "jarlic" left over from last year. Instead, I'll store this and use it fresh, and probably give away a fair bit to friends and neighbors.

Oh, and just because I want a record of where I ordered this garlic, and what variety, here's photos of the invoice that came with it:

Right now the bowls of garlic are sitting on the kitchen table. Every time I catch a glimpse of those gigantic cloves, I grin.

Silly to be so thrilled over jumbo garlic, ain't it? I always knew I was weird.

Peach purée

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Tue, 04 Aug 2026 04:37:30 +0000

Five years ago, we planted four peach trees.

Peaches are, hands down, my all-time favorite fruit, so I was anxious to get some trees established as early as possible here in our current home. We chose four different varieties that are resistant to peach curl.

Despite cages and fencing, it's been a battle against the deer, who want nothing more than to consume these poor little trees down to nubbins. As a result, they are misshapen and a few branches are dead from the times the deer won.

Despite that, these brave trees are producing fruit. Last year, I harvested about ten pounds. This year ... yowza. One tree in particular came into its own, and its branches were heavy with peaches.

It's the first time we've had anything akin to a decent crop, and I was giddy with delight.

A couple weeks ago, I went and cleaned out the one tree whose peaches were ready to pick. (The other trees, being different varieties, are lagging behind and will be ready to harvest in early September.)

I filled a 30-gallon tub about half-full of fruit just off this one tree.

Curious, I weighed them. Forty pounds. Forty. Pounds. Off one tree. Remember, last year I only got a combined harvest of ten pounds from all four trees.

The next step was to let them ripen. I put down a towel and spread the peaches out on the surface of the woodstove.

They didn't all fit, so I put overflow peaches on a couple of cookie sheets lined with dish towels.

I covered all the fruit with netting to keep the fruit flies off. That prevented a huge source of spoilage.

After a week, the peaches were ripe enough to process. I pulled aside a bowl of the best ones for fresh eating.

I decided to turn the rest into peach purée, since I still had plenty of sliced canned peaches in the pantry. I use peach purée a lot to flavor yogurt and ice cream.

The first step is to scald the peaches in hot water for a few minutes so the skins will slip easily. I completely forgot to get a photo of this step. By the time I remembered to document my progress, I was elbow-deep in the process. Cooling peaches on the left, debris (including small unripe peaches) on the right.

Since I was pureeing the bunch, I didn't bother trying to make tidy slices. I just gutted the peeled peaches and tossed them in a bowl.

As each batch got processed, I ran the peaches through the blender.

Then I poured the purée into gallon jugs. By this point it was late enough in the day that canning would interfere with our evening chores. After all that work, the volume was reduced to two full gallons of purée. I put these in the refrigerator overnight.

Here's the debris, ready to go into the compost tumbler.

The next morning, I assembled lids, rings, and clean jars.

Filling the jars.

Final tally: 18 pints.

In a tremendously exciting turn of events, my birthday water-bath canners held all 18 pints at once! How wonderful is that? Honestly, why did I wait so many decades to get these canners?

I set two timers, one for each pot, for 35 minutes. I only started the timers when the pots reached a rolling boil.

Out of the canner. This is plenty of purée to last the entire year. And I can't forget, I have three other peach trees still to harvest!

Making strawberry preserves

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Sat, 01 Aug 2026 20:01:51 +0000

Don has slowly been painting the outside of our house, one side at a time. During the course of this project, we needed to move our chest freezer (located on the back porch out of direct sunlight) away from the wall so he could paint behind it.

This meant emptying the freezer of all its contents. This wasn't a bad thing, since it allowed us to sort, group, organize, inventory, and discard as needed.

Which is how I found myself with bags and bags and bags of sliced and frozen strawberries. For the last couple of years, any strawberries that I picked and which I didn't use immediately, I sliced and froze. Many of these bags had somehow migrated to the very bottom of the freezer. Time to do something with them.

I'm not a big fan of jams or jellies, so those are not my go-to options when it comes to putting up fruit. However the exception is strawberry preserves. These are easy to make, dense with strawberries, and require only three ingredients (strawberries, lemon juice, sugar).

This is actually a Martha Stewart recipe, one of the few recipes she has that isn't a logistical nightmare to follow. (You know the kind of Martha Stewart recipes I mean: "Fly to Madagascar and harvest three fresh vanilla bean pods. Hang them to dry for several weeks, then condition them for six months in closed boxes. Steep the pods in 35% ethanol for two weeks. Use one teaspoon of this vanilla extract to...")

Anyway, back to preserves. First step: Let all the bags of strawberries defrost overnight.

Then I drained all the juice with a colander.

I planned to cook down the strawberries in my water-bath pots (which are very large). First I needed to get the tare weight of the pot so I could determine the weight of the strawberries.

This is the pot, full of strawberries. Weight of the fruit: Eleven pounds.

According to the recipe, for every 2 lbs. of strawberries, I needed 3 1/2 teaspoons of lemon juice and 1 cup sugar.

Because I had 11 lbs. of strawberries, I had to do a little of the good ol' cross-multiply-and-divide technique to figure out how much lemon juice and sugar I needed.

(Side note: This is possibly THE single-most useful mathematical trick I remember from high school. I use it constantly.)

I added the lemon juice to the strawberries...

...then let the fruit cook over a low heat for about 40 minutes, stirring occasionally. This releases the juices.

Meanwhile I had the necessary amount of sugar pre-measured.

I poured in the sugar after the strawberries and lemon juice had been stewing for the requisite amount of time.

Stirring in the sugar.

At this point, the fruit mixture needs to come to a boil over medium heat. I used a thermometer to check the temperature. Notice the foam on top. This gets skimmed off after the strawberries reach the required temperature.

When the fruit reached 210F, I turned off the heat and let it cool down, a process that takes a couple of hours. When it was cool, I spooned the preserves into colanders over bowls to drain excess juice. (This keeps the preserves from being too runny.)

Filling the jars.

Into the water bath. The preserves are processed for 15 minutes at a rolling boil.

Final tally, four quarts and one pint.

The processed jars of fruit preserves were so pretty, I almost hated to move them out of the kitchen. After admiring them for a day or two, though, I finally labeled and dated them, and tucked them in the pantry.

Man I love canning.

Thirty-minute mozzarella

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Fri, 31 Jul 2026 03:23:04 +0000

I wanted to make some pizza, but we were out of (bulk store-bought) mozzarella cheese. I'd been too busy to make regular mozzarella lately, so I decided to try something that was – supposedly – quick'n'easy: Thirty-minute mozzarella.

Even though this recipe appears in my extremely trusty copy of "Home Cheese Making," for some reason I was inclined to dismiss it as a gimmick. Cheese in half an hour? C'mon. Certainly I had never tried it before.

However, faced with a shortage of both time and mozzarella, I decided to give it a go.

I started with a gallon of milk over low heat. I always nest two pots, double-boiler style, to make a water jacket. This prevents the milk from scorching.

To the milk, I added a teaspoon and a half of citric acid dissolved in half a cup of cool water.

When the milk hit 90F, I added a quarter-teaspoon of rennet mixed with a quarter-cup of cool water.

When the milk hit about 101F, I turned off the heat and let the rennet do its thing. With this recipe, it only takes about five minutes for the curds and whey to separate.

See? Already it looks mozzarella-ish.

I scooped all the curds into a large bowl, and used the spoon to sorta press out the whey. I poured off the whey, pressed some more, poured off the whey, etc.

Then I put the curds into the microwave for one minute. I donned a latex kitchen glove (which the recipe book recommended) and used one hand to flip the curds around, draining off excess whey. The glove protects my skin from the heat of the mozzarella.

At this point I added a bit of cheese salt and, with my gloved hand, massaged it into the cheese.

I microwaved the cheese for thirty seconds, pressed it using my gloved hand, and drained off the whey. Then I repeated this step.

And you know what? It worked! The result was a nice warm ball of mozzarella cheese.

The last step is to add cold water to the bowl and place ice cubes in it to cool the cheese.

I was astonished how quick and easy this cheese was. Bonus point: It's great on homemade pizza.

I put the kitchen gloves into their own Ziploc baggie, clearly marked for food use. I know I'll be using them again.

In fact, I know what I'll be doing with a lot of my surplus milk from now on...

My toaster wants my email address

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Wed, 29 Jul 2026 22:27:14 +0000

I stumbled across an essay entitled "My Toaster Wants my Email Address" written by a rather cynical 23-year-old named Lily-Rose Dawson who is just over smart technology.

Her growing dissatisfaction with this Brave New World culminated in an incident in which she was working as a camp counselor and had been sent to town in the camp's 15-seater van to pick up some supplies – which is how she found herself trying to pay for street parking in a "smart" world. Rather than a simple old-fashioned parking meter, things were far more complex:

"I stood in the rain scanning a QR code, which led to a website, which told me to download an app, which asked me to create an account, which wanted my email, my phone number, the van’s license plate, my card number, and permission to send me 'occasional offers.' To park. On a street. Which taxes already paid for. ... The app then charged me a 35-cent 'convenience fee,' which raises the question of what, exactly, was convenient, and for whom. Not for me. I checked."

Or her thoughts as paper menus fade from American restaurants: "What replaces it is a QR code taped to the table, leading to a PDF formatted for a screen the size of a drive-in movie, which I navigate by pinch-zooming across the appetizer section like an analyst studying spy photos of a missile site. Some of these menus want me to create an account first. To look at food. At some point a fully grown adult with a job title stood up in a meeting and said 'What if customers had to log in to discover that we serve mozzarella sticks,' and the room said yes, and that man was promoted, and I inherited the results. The experience lasted thirty seconds. A man handed me coffee. The coffee was coffee. But the survey wanted to know how the interaction made me FEEL, on a scale, with an optional comment box, and if I skip it the barista’s numbers apparently go down, because somebody decided a human being’s employment should hinge on whether strangers complete beverage homework."

I understand this young woman's vexation. Believe me, I really understand it. But if this new "smart" world is this frustrating for a 23-year-old, imagine how much worse it is for those of us approaching our Golden Years, who were around when phones were affixed to the wall and required rotary dialing.

All the "dumb" things we, and our parents, grew up with still worked decades later. Today's smart appliances only work for as long as the manufacturer supports the item's firmware. Once the company decides to move on to something smarter, what then?

Dawson notes: "Every one of those things has since been improved into something that needs my phone, an account, two-factor authentication, and a terms-of-service document longer than Deuteronomy, which I clicked 'agree' on without reading. ... And it's still spreading. There is a toaster on the market right now with WiFi and a companion app, meaning the machine that warms bread now has a login, which means the headline of this article is not a joke, it's a product category."

Don and I have been fighting tooth and nail against getting smart phones or any smart appliances or furnishings. And yet we know the clock is ticking. Someday we'll be unable to bank, shop, or (apparently) park without being connected.

Maybe that's why I'm enjoying my writing career so much. My fictional characters aren't interested in anything "smart," and my nonfiction subjects largely involve doing things the old-fashioned way.

Cheers to that ... as long as it lasts.

Freelance cattle

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Sat, 25 Jul 2026 02:50:41 +0000

Yesterday evening, as I was picking blueberries, I kept hearing the mooing of range cattle.

This isn't really unusual. There's a family who lives about a mile away from us who raise beef cattle, and they have extensive property in the area. They rotate their cow/calf pairs year round. We hear cows all the time.

The reason the noise from the range cattle caught my ear last evening was because it was coming from the wrong direction, from down a steep hill where this family doesn't own property ... and the noise sounded like it was getting closer. "I wouldn't be surprised if some of their animals got out of the fences," I commented to Don as we leashed up Mr. Darcy for his evening walk. This, too, is nothing unusual. With as many cattle as this family raises (several hundred), a few are bound to get out once in a while. The neighborhood takes it in stride.

Fast forward to this afternoon. I glanced down the road and saw five cows and three very young calves grazing their way up the road. Oh great. Freelance cattle.

Normally this wouldn't be a big deal, except these animals were conspicuously not the same breed as those raised by the folks down the road from us.

We started checking in with neighbors, who reported (a) yes, the animals have been hanging around everyone's respective properties all day; (b) they do not belong to the family down the road; and (c) neighbors have been calling around, trying to find the owners, to no avail.

Immediately upon seeing the cows right below our house, Don and I sprang into action. Don went to close the lower driveway gate so the freelance cows wouldn't wander onto our property.

I called our own livestock in and secured them in the corral for the evening, since I didn't want to risk any fences being breached by our animals (notably our steer, who may not be as steered as we'd hoped when we castrated him as a calf; while he's never managed to impregnate anyone, he sure does act like a bull) in their eagerness to greet the newcomers.

Our actions were none too soon. The freelance animals lingered right in front of our driveway gate, cropping down the grasses. Had the gate been open, we would have had visitors.

From the corral, our own cows could see the freelance animals as they moved up the road. They were very interested, mooing and bellowing.

I noticed a brand on one of the cows. Don and I both looked up brands for this region and found absolutely nothing. Side observation: That is one massive cow.

Bottom line, no one has any clue where these animals belong.

We half expected to find the freelancers on our front lawn, since we have no gate blocking it off, but instead they diverted down a side road and disappeared from view down the hill in the same direction as I heard them coming up yesterday evening.

It was a very hot day, about 96F, and I'm guessing these animals have not had much to drink in the last 24 hours. I hope they find their way home.

Bonus photos of our animals in the corral. Here's Lucy:

Romeo:

And Maggie licking her yearling heifer Stormy:

Blackberry bonanza

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Thu, 23 Jul 2026 22:52:27 +0000

I don't like blackberries. Let me amend that: I don't like blackberry bushes. The vines spread like crazy and can take over whole pastures or hillsides if not checked. The fruit, however, is fabulous.

A couple years ago, we had a summer of no fruit. The wild plums and blackberries, which normally glut the land in season, were categorically bare. It was weird.

Last summer, it's like the plants made up for lost time. While the blackberries were once again abundant, the plums were absolutely phenomenal. I'd never seen so many wild plums.

This year, while the plums are bearing well, it's nothing like what the blackberries are doing.

Every bush, vine, and branch is covered so thickly with infant fruit that the branches are already bending down.

A couple weeks ago, when blossoms were still on the vines, I could stand next to a bush and hear the hum of bees as they went from flower to flower.

As a result of all this diligent pollination, the young berries are coming in thick and fast.

I have no idea why the blackberries decided to explode this year, but I'm certain the wildlife will appreciate it once the fruit is ripe. And, well, a sample of the fruit might make its way into our kitchen as well.

Homemade ice cream

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Tue, 21 Jul 2026 23:54:11 +0000

With hot summer days upon us, it's the perfect time for homemade ice cream, right?

Right. Before we could achieve this goal, however, we had been waiting for three things to happen. One, we needed to find an ice-cream maker. Our old thrift-store machine had broken, so we had been keeping an eye out at various thrift stores for a replacement. We were finally able to locate one (in a rather shocking pink color). This is a much larger machine than we're used to, with a generous six-quart capacity.

Pink or not, we weren't quibbling with the price of $10. New machines cost a lot more.

We found this machine back in May, and we kept it on the porch waiting for the second thing to happen: Milking Maggie. We found the ice-cream maker several weeks before little Lucy was born, so we needed to wait until we had the necessary milk and cream available.

And third, of course, we were waiting for hot weather. Who wants to eat ice cream when it's not hot out?

Finally all three things came together, and I decided to make ice cream.

I started with plain vanilla. This takes just a few ingredients: Milk, sugar, cream, vanilla, and a pinch of salt. (It also calls for half-and-half, but hey, that's just milk mixed with cream.)

I started by skimming some cream into a bowl.

Then I scalded some of the skimmed milk...

...after which I added the sugar and salt and stirred it until the sugar dissolved.

Mixing milk and cream to make half-and-half.

Adding vanilla.

The mixture (called a "base") should be chilled before putting it in the ice-cream canister. I poured it into a gallon mayo jug and put it in the fridge for half an hour or so.

After cooling, into the ridiculously tall canister it went, along with the paddle.

I had bought a bag of ice for the occasion, so I put the canister in the bucket of the ice-cream machine and layered the space between canister and bucket with ice and rock salt. I let the mixture churn for 40 minutes.

The ice-cream maker performed perfectly fine. The only thing it didn't do was make the base into ice cream. That's because I was too parsimonious with the ice and salt (I was trying to divvy up the ice so I could make another batch later). As a result, the "ice cream" came out of the canister in the same liquid form as when I put it in.

I've made ice cream many, many times in the past, and have never had the result this liquid-y before. To be fair, though, our previous ice-cream machines were much smaller than this one, so adding too little ice was simply a rookie mistake. Note to self: Add more ice and rock salt next time.

Not to be deterred, I poured the base into a bowl and put it in the freezer overnight. We tried it the next day when the ice cream was frozen, and it was fabulous.

However I wanted to make some peach ice cream (peaches are my favorite fruit), but hadn't gotten around to getting more ice yet. So ... I decided to make ice cream without the machine.

There are a number of ways to do this, so I opted for the freeze-and-stir method.

I repeated the process of skimming the cream...

...scalding the milk, mixing the half-and-half, etc.

However this time, to the same base recipe, I added some peach purée I had canned up a couple years ago.

A few days ago, Don helped out with a community ice-cream fundraising event and came home with a couple of empty gallon-sized ice-cream tubs. Originally he planned to use them for holding nuts, bolts, screws, etc., but then changed his mind and suggested they be used for homemade ice cream instead. However in the case of the peach ice cream, the base filled a tub almost to overflowing.

So I transferred the base to a larger bowl and covered it with one of those shower cap-style bowl covers.

I put the bowl in the freezer and set a kitchen timer. Once an hour, for four hours, I pulled out the base and stirred it up.

After that, I simply left it in the freezer overnight and throughout the next morning to let it freeze solid.

And you know what? It was delicious!

Maybe gourmands can tell the difference between churned and unchurned ice cream, but we couldn't. Conclusion: Don't let the lack of an ice-cream maker – or the lack of ice, in our case – deter you from making homemade ice cream.

That said, it's a very, very good thing the dairy ingredients were free since they came from our own cow. Purchasing the necessary amount of milk, half-and-half, heavy cream, or even the peaches to make purée would, unfortunately, make it far more economical to buy a gallon of commercial ice cream. Sadly, that's the reality of current food prices.

Here are the recipes I used, which came with the ice-cream maker. The recipes below make four quarts:

Vanilla Ice Cream
• 2 cups milk
• 1 3/4 cups sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 cups half-and-half
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
• 4 cups whipping cream

Scald the milk until bubbles form around the edges. Remove from heat. Stir in sugar and salt until dissolved. Stir in half-and-half, vanilla, and cream. Chill for 30 minutes before churning.

Peach Ice Cream
Same recipe as above, except add four cups of peach purée before freezing.

A little ray of sunshine

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Mon, 20 Jul 2026 14:52:03 +0000

Some of you might remember the circumstances under which our pastor met and married his beautiful wife. (If not, see here and here and here and here.)

Don and I get to church early in order to help get certain things set up for the service. This is why, this past Sunday, we were inside the sanctuary when our pastor, his wife, and their toddler son arrived.

The moment – the moment! – this little boy came inside the church doors, he brought joy and smiles with him.

The boy (I'll call him "G") is like the church mascot. Everyone loves him. He knows everyone by name, he bestows hugs and affection freely, he giggles and laughs. He is a little ray of sunshine.

Don and I share a pew with Mrs. Pastor and G, in part so I can help corral the squirrely toddler while his daddy is conducting the service, but honestly it's not a hard task. This child is extraordinarily well behaved, thanks to both his innate sweet nature and his parents' proper discipline. It also helps that he has a selection of snacks and toys in the pew with him.

Mrs. Pastor is expecting their second son in October, and we're so happy for them. Some people are just wonderful parents, y'know? Soon they'll have two little rays of sunshine.

In the throes of harvesting blueberries

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Sun, 19 Jul 2026 02:01:59 +0000

I am deep in the throes of harvesting blueberries.

These blueberry bushes have become a serious summer commitment. Last year, if you recall, we harvested upwards of 92.5 lbs. of fruit.

Whether this year's tally will exceed that remains to be seen, but certainly we have no shortage of unripe berries at the moment.

Not all the bushes ripen at the same time. They seem to ripen from left to right across the stand. At first (toward the end of June), just two or three bushes showed ripe fruit, with the rest of the berries remaining green and hard.

For the first few picks, I'd harvest maybe a pound or a pound and a half.

That was then. This is now. At this point, all the bushes are ripening heavily. I pick about every three days. This morning I spent four hours picking and came away with a total of seven pounds.

On days I pick, I start early (to try and beat the heat). I begin by putting up our old craft-booth umbrella as movable shade. This umbrella, which we've stored unused for decades, has proven to be worth its weight in gold since the blueberries have come into such heavy production. Not only is it easier to determine ripe from almost-ripe fruit under shady conditions, but clearly the shade ratchets up my comfort level while working in the bushes.

While picking for four hours at a stretch may seem tedious, I remind myself that there are any number of people who would be happy to spend a few hours in a blueberry patch.

This is what seven pounds of blueberries looks like.

I brought the newly picked berries into the house, where I'll let them sit for about three days at room temperature, which helps sweeten the fruit. Meanwhile, it was time to sort and clean the five pounds of berries I picked three days ago, which have been sitting on the kitchen table.

I sort berries on a dishtowel. It's helpful to fold the edge of the towel under once or twice to form a small barrier, which keeps berries from rolling off.

This is my little sorting station: Unsorted berries on the right, sorted berries in the middle, debris on the left.

There can be quite a difference in fruit size, depending on what variety the berries are.

This is what I'm sorting out: Blossom ends, stems, and unripe fruit. I also pull out any berries that are withered or overly squishy-ripe.

From the bowl with five pounds of berries, this is the resulting debris.

To date, I've harvested about 28 lbs. of blueberries. If we're on track to match last year's harvest, that means I'm not quite at the one-third mark. A blue blessing indeed.

My obsession with mayonnaise jugs

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Fri, 17 Jul 2026 00:36:15 +0000

I was making one of my favorite summer recipes the other day (broccoli-onion salad) which calls for, among other things, a mayonnaise-based dressing. During this process, I emptied our current mayo jug and had to open another.

To back up, I buy mayonnaise in gallon jugs about once a year when I go into the city for bulk shopping. Don's a sandwich guy, so I've bought mayo like this for decades, usually from Chef's Store.

And I always buy Kraft brand. Not because I'm a Kraft fan – I'm not even remotely a fan of Kraft – but because I'm obsessed with the one-gallon plastic jugs the mayo comes in.

Decades ago, when I first bought mayo in a gallon jug, I remember being reluctant to discard the empty container because it was so sturdy and seemed so useful. Ah, I was a sweet summer child back then. I had no idea how ubiquitous these jugs would become in my future life.

Over the years I have saved every single mayo jug as the contents get used up, and every single empty jug gets pressed into service. Some of these jugs are upwards of 30 years old and are still as good as new.

With a newly emptied jug, first I soak it in warm water for half an hour or so (rotating it once in a while) so the label loosens. The label comes off easily after soaking.

After the label is removed, I give the jug (and its lid) a good scrubbing inside and out, and it's good to go.

Right now, since I'm in full dairy mode, these jugs hold milk and get cleaned frequently. Often I upend them on racks over a towel when I have a bunch to dry.

At one point many years ago, I had so many jugs filled with dry staples (whole wheat flour, oatmeal, raisins, brown sugar, tea, etc.) that my pantry was overcrowded with them. So about ten years ago, Don made me a custom shelving unit that holds 30 jugs (five across, two deep, three high), and I've used it ever since.

I have jugs of milk in the dairy fridge.

I have jugs in the pantry. I have jugs in the barn. I have jugs filled with emergency water. I have jugs in the freezer filled with coffee or other loose staples. I have jugs everywhere. If I have any empty jugs, I put them in the barn until they're needed. Almost invariably, they'll be needed within a matter of weeks.

I've never even tried to count how many jugs we have in circulation, but I'm guessing there are upwards of a hundred or so. I can think of only one jug that broke, and that was because it froze. I had filled it with water and it had been tipped over on its side during some bitterly cold weather. The water froze, and as the ice expanded, it broke the plastic siding. And that, literally, is just about the only jug I've ever lost.

And let me tell you, I beat the tar out of these things. But they take a lickin' and keep on tickin'. They're some of the toughest and most useful things imaginable ... and they have a handy carrying handle to boot.

So yeah, you might say I'm a wee bit obsessed with mayonnaise jugs.