Rural Revolution

Putting up firewood

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Sat, 19 Sep 2026 19:46:47 +0000

With autumn flying by, we wanted to get the firewood put up sooner rather than later. Among much else, we wanted to clear the driveway in preparation for an upcoming yard sale we plan to hold in the next couple of weeks (it's weather dependent).

We bought three cords of log rounds from a friend with a side business of selling firewood. We didn't need the wood split since we have our own log splitter. The first delivery was made in late May, so the rounds sat in the driveway all summer, and the second delivery was in early September.

The funny thing is, we still have a fair bit of wood left over from last winter. Sometimes we forget we're living in a much smaller place than our last house, plus it's more efficiently insulated, so we don't go through nearly as much wood each winter. (And also, last winter was fairly mild.)

Still, extra firewood is no bad thing. With the full delivery now sitting in rounds in the driveway, it was time to get splitting.

After each bout of splitting, we stacked it up in the woodshed.

We spent about a week splitting and stacking, working for just a couple of hours each day.

Gradually the wood shed filled up.

We crammed as much wood in as we could, up to the very top, filling random holes with wood pieces of appropriate size to slot in.

This lady startled me. I'm not sure how she managed not to get smushed, since I found her right on a log round I was splitting.

The time came when we had the wood shed crammed full to the very brim: Top to bottom, side to side, back to front.

However we still had a lot of wood left to go. Where to put it?

After some discussion, we laid down pallets and started stacking wood on the side of the house.

And don't worry, we didn't stack it directly against the house.

This will be easy to tarp.

We also stacked some wood on the back porch to use first.

In short, we have firewood coming out our ears, possibly as much as three years' worth. A blessing indeed as we prepare for winter.

I'm back!

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 18:31:17 +0000

Phew, what a journey! For the past two weeks, this blog has been having technical difficulties and many readers couldn't get on due to a "security risk."

After much assistance from a computer expert named Gregory, at first the issue was thought to be through my hosting platform, necessitating a number of lengthy phone consultations. (Hat tip to a woman named Lindsay, who was wonderfully helpful.)

The hosting platform, as it turns out, wasn't able to assist. The matter needed to be addressed through the dreaded Goliath of Google, which of course is famously helpful and accessible (/sarc/).

The bottom line was the issue was the need for an SSL certification. Fortunately there is a convenient option in Blogger to change things from http to https. Unfortunately it didn't work.

Gregory went back and forth and back and forth and dove deeeeep down some technical rabbit holes involving encryption sites that even he admitted were not user-friendly. However, finally, he was able to pull things together and make things work.

Now the blog, once again, should be visible to everyone. Thank you to Gregory for his assistance, and to all of you for your patience!

Weird dreams

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Sat, 12 Sep 2026 13:07:36 +0000

"Do we have any other quilts besides the one on our bed?" Don asked randomly one morning.

"No," I replied. "Why?"

The quilt on our bed was a lucky thrift-store find from about 15 years ago, and it's the only one we have.

"Because I had a dream," Don explained. "We had a valuable quilt we were going to sell, and I posted it online with a giant list of technical descriptions with terms I'd never heard before, yet with logical-sounding definitions such as 'well-tipped' and 'fully pressed.'" He said in his dream, a quilting expert would know all these definitions, and the terms had to be exactly right for the quilt to be correctly valued. None of the dream terms were gobbledygook ("This quilt is blooper-rooper"), but he'd never heard of any of them.

We both had a good chuckled at such an outlandish dream.

Then a couple of days later, he had another bizarre dream. He dreamt that one of our chest freezers full of beef had malfunctioned. The meat was still soft-frozen and therefore salvageable. The problem with moving the meat to another location, however, was the freezer was surrounded by huge rattlesnakes. In his dream, he was going to try laying on some steps near the freezer and remove the meat with long grabbers ... and that's where the dream ended.

Don has no fear of snakes (though of course a healthy respect for rattlers), and the only source he could imagine for such a dream was sighting a rattlesnake on the road a few weeks ago, only the second rattler he's seen in all our years in Idaho.

Yup. Weird dreams.

Twenty-five years ago. Never forget.

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Fri, 11 Sep 2026 03:58:13 +0000

It's been 25 years since the Sept. 11, 2026 terrorist attacks. Stubbornly, I will continue to post some of the heart-wrenching photos from that horrible day because I don't want people to forget, excuse, dismiss, rewrite, or minimize what happened.

Never forget.

Scenic drive

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Tue, 08 Sep 2026 21:32:37 +0000

This morning we went to pick up Romeo, the bull/steer we recently had butchered, at the meat-cutter's facility. Here's the meat, packed in totes and crates in the back of the car.

The butcher lives waaaaay up a hill above a river. We had never been to this particular neck of the woods before, and immediately fell in love with it. I didn't think to take photos as we drove up, but I took a few on the way down. This is some random and distant outbuilding with some hay bales in a field that made us wish we could move there.

Here's a view of the river.

Can you see the road way down there?

The road wound through rocky and very steep hills.

The hills appeared crumbly, and Don said they're probably basalt.

For this reason, it didn't altogether surprise us to see a gravel pit at the top of the hill where things flattened out.

We agreed it was an incredibly scenic excursion to pick up the meat.

Meanwhile, this is our property, photo taken from a neighbor's place. The barn is on the left (the metal roof is shining in the sun), and the house is on the right tucked behind a row of trees.

Here's a closer view of the house, what little of it is visible.

And that was our scenic drive.

Technical difficulties

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Mon, 07 Sep 2026 16:45:52 +0000

Several readers have brought something to my attention, namely that this blog is giving "Secure connections failed" and error messages stating it's an issue on my end.

The trouble is, neither Don nor I can "see" what's happening. We tried implementing the HTTPS availability under "Settings" and get this screen:

In short, we have no clue what's wrong or what happened. We have not changed a single thing on our end, so we don't know what to change or fix. At this point we're about ready to contact a local computer specialist and see what he can do to restore full access to the blog.

Meanwhile, if you can see this blog post, please take a screenshot of whatever issues you're encountering at your end. Don set up a temporary email address, so please send me any technical difficulties you're experiencing. This email address is: troubleshootRR@proton.me

Thank you!

Three-day beef ambrosia

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Fri, 04 Sep 2026 13:24:36 +0000

We'll be getting our bull/steer Romeo back from the butcher in a few days' time, so we've been reorganizing the freezer to make room for him. During this process, we came across several cuts of meat from a previous butchering that have just been ... sitting there. For years.

This cut is a chuck roast. I've put chuck roasts in a slow cooker in the past with excellent results, but it still remains, for whatever reason, my least-favorite part of the animal. It's generally the last thing I reach for when it comes to making something for dinner.

But this time, needing to make room, I fished out three chuck roasts as well as two packages of soup bones, another item I seldom use. My plan was to can up the meat in a bone broth.

I threw these all into a large stock pot, added powdered garlic, dried onion, pepper, and a splash of vinegar (to help draw the nutrients out of the bones), topped everything with water, and let it simmer overnight.

The next day, I scooped out all the meat and bones. I carefully went through each piece of meat and de-fatted it as best I could. I think this is one of the reasons I'm not so fond of chuck roast – it's just too fatty. (I put the fatty bits aside to feed to Mr. Darcy in small increments.)

Then I put the meat in the refrigerator overnight. More importantly, I put the pot of beef broth in the fridge too, so the fat could cool, rise to the surface, and harden.

The next day, I scooped the fat off the surface of the broth.

The bone broth is incredible – rich, meaty, full of nutrients. I filled canning jars with meat and topped them with the broth.

Then, not wanting to waste anything, I filled the rest of the jars with leftover broth.

After canning, the result is six pints of beef ambrosia – tender and delicious – and eight pints of beef bone broth for the pantry.

Not a bad haul for some cuts of meat otherwise taking up space in the freezer.

Happy birthday, Mom!

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Thu, 03 Sep 2026 23:11:00 +0000

Today is my mom's 95th birthday.

Clearly I couldn't wish her felicitations over the phone, so I called my dad to pass them on to her. My brothers and sisters-in-law (bless every one of them) are making things festive. My older brother and sister-in-law brought homemade cheesecake (which Mom loves), and my youngest brother and sister-in-law will come in over the weekend with a birthday cake.

Dad says Mom is doing quite well in the nursing home. After her rough New Year's brush with illness, it took her a long time to recuperate and now she's much improved. As Dad says, if it wasn't for the effects of the stroke, she would be exceptionally healthy.

Altogether, Dad and I agreed, we have much to be thankful for with our family. Despite the challenges, everyone is in good spirits. We're beyond grateful for that.

Happy birthday, Mom!

Rain relief

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Wed, 02 Sep 2026 16:46:31 +0000

As I post this, it's raining. What a delightful sound to hear the raindrops on the roof and water running in the gutters.

I checked my weather diary and confirmed that, with the exception of a few light (and I mean light) showers, we haven't had any appreciable or measurable rain since June 29. This is not atypical for the west, which is why fire danger is always on our radar during the dry months. It's also why the rain is such a welcome relief.

Today's rain is coming in a single dramatic spike.

But we have the promise of more rain and unsettled weather for the foreseeable future (i.e. the 10-day forecast).

The oak leaves are dripping water.

The porch rails are wet.

Some turkeys are taking refuge under an apple tree.

The road is running with rivulets of water.

And by evening, the blackberries will plump up.

Everything is looking fresher and cleaner since all the vegetation is having a bath and the dust is washing off. Yes, this rain is a relief.

Medicinal garlic

noreply@blogger.com (Patrice Lewis) — Tue, 01 Sep 2026 16:29:56 +0000

Don has always had marginally high blood pressure readings. A few years ago, a doctor was concerned enough to put him on a very low dose of blood pressure medication.

The interesting thing is, he very likely never had high blood pressure to begin with. What he has, literally, is "white-coat syndrome." The Cleveland Clinic says about this condition, "White coat syndrome, or white coat hypertension, is the term for when you get a high blood pressure reading in a doctor’s office and a normal reading at home. The anxiety of being around doctors in white coats can make your blood pressure rise. Most people don’t need treatment if their blood pressure is normal at home."

Don monitors his blood pressure very closely at home, and after realizing his blood pressure just naturally spikes at a doctor's office, he decided to slowly and gradually wean himself off the already-low dosage of medication he was on. His blood pressure has remained at a healthy level. (He also walks, lifts moderate weights, and watches his weight.)

Anyway, this is a long-winded way of stating why he prefers to address any lingering concerns about blood pressure by turning to garlic.

Raw garlic has a centuries-long tradition of regulating blood pressure. Modern medical research has confirmed it may lower cholesterol, blood pressure, and blood sugar. Essentially garlic works to soften blood vessels and make them more elastic, which is precisely what the prescription medication did. In short ... can't hurt, might help for him to have raw garlic.

So Don takes a clove or two of raw garlic on a daily basis, usually sliced or chopped up in a sandwich or whatever else he has for lunch. Since last year I canned the entire garlic harvest, this meant he was buying garlic in the store to fill his raw garlic needs.

So this year I held all the harvested garlic in raw form, storing it in a cool dark place. Remember, much of this is now the jumbo garlic I'll be growing from now on.

The recommended daily dosage of garlic is about two grams (higher amounts apparently don't make a difference in health benefits). A single clove of our jumbo garlic weights 20 grams, ten times the recommended minimum dosage. He loves garlic (as do I), so it's no hardship to eat this much every day.

These large cloves slice easily.

He can then further chop the garlic as needed, or keep it sliced. He also likes the taste of this garlic much more than the store-bought stuff. He says it's less bitter.

Don's been off his blood-pressure medication for quite some time now, and his blood pressure is fine. As I mentioned, it may never have been high to begin with.

But keeping garlic in his diet is, we agree, a good thing.

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 of simplicity 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.