The Almost Season

I see Fall as two seasons. The first is Autumn, glorious, colour drenched Autumn. Crisp mornings bring gauzy mists that surround bare trees, seemingly tucking them in for Winter. Their bare grey branches soften against mist's blur. Then in the afternoon, achingly brilliant red, yellow and orange leaves perk up the dull brown of the ground. The air takes on that clear, clean smell that clears the mind and rosys the cheeks. That's the Autumn I have always known and it's just magnificent here on the island.

Come mid-November, the season that is never mentioned on calenders arrives. I call it the Almost Season. I only discovered this season since I moved here. As with the other season markers, Spring's robin or Summer's mosquitoes, the almost season is definitely here when almost every sentence I say contains the word 'almost'. I'm almost done the gardens, they're all clear, I just have to put the compost on. I'm almost done the pumpkins, they're all picked, I just have to bake a few more. I'm almost done the wood gathering; well, no - that's a big fat lie, as you can see by the top picture. Dead branches pile up year long and for every box I or the kids fill, three box loads of branches fall. Wood gather will never be done completely but I don't have a Never Completed Season so it becomes part of the Almost Season. It gives me some hope, anyway that may be some day it will at least stop growing.

The Fall Almost Season is a delight in itself without the color and fanfare. It's delightful because because it just doesn't matter if those last few things don't get done. I can always put the compost on next spring. The last pumpkins can go to the chickens who will enjoy them still warm from the oven on a winter's morning. It'll warm them from the cockles of their hearts to the combs on their little heads. The wood gathering, ah it's always there no matter what season. The pile is so enjoyed by birds, chipmunks and squirrels it would be a shame to get rid of it completely. So it's almost acceptable as is. And that's what this season is all about, what can be done and what can wait and why it all works out in the end ... or in the Spring, whichever the case may be.

Guinea Fowls

In addition to the little guinea in the brooder downstairs. I now have three more. I was told they were very interesting and great bug eaters and would be such an asset in the garden. What I wasn't told was Guineas are walking contradictions. If you look at their heads, they strongly resemble buzzards, very ugly right down to their ugly ruffled necks. If you just look at their bodies, they're quite pretty with light dots sprinkled liberally through the base colors. You can see some of the white dots on the middle bird. The light bird's colour is lavender, the two others are blues, which while not all that accurate, does sound better than light ugly and dark ugly.

Guineas have the prettiest voices, all soft whistles. They talk to each other constantly, sounding like the worlds smallest woodwinds. That is, of course, until they "sound the alarm" as Guinea aficionados quaintly call it. That's what they do if the see a predator or something they just don't like, like long grass blowing the wrong way. The first time I heard them sound off, I thought something big and heavy must have fallen on them. What a racket, imagine a duck with a sore throat and turn up the volume to ear-bleed level.

While they can fly and fly high, like 25 feet up into the trees high, they prefer to stay on the ground. They will only fly if threatened. On the ground, guineas are very fast, in fact when they scoot, you can't even see their feet. I think they curl the feet up and make little roller skates out of them.

Since they are originally from Africa, I have decided to call them after my favorite African American actor. Their names are James, Earl and Jones. James is the light one, Earl and Jones are pretty much interchangeable right now. If they turn out to be girls, I'll call them Jamie, Pearl and Janes. I have no idea if they are male or female. Apparently you can tell by listening to them; males have a one-note call, females have a two-note call. I can't tell the difference it's all Greek to me.

After a week long transitional phase, they seemed to have settled in quite nicely. That first week was quite the experience but that's another story.

And We have Eggs!

We got our very first egg last Saturday. I was out shopping when Don called me. I don't know what it's like to win a million dollars but I wouldn't be surprised if it doesn't feel the same as getting your first farm fresh egg. When I got home, I marvelled over the egg. I thought about all that was involved in getting this brown oval of goodness; building the coop, getting the chickens and equipment and so forth and so on. I mused, "So that's what an egg worth over a grand looks like. Now all the other eggs will be free." My thinking defies all logic; but it keeps life interesting. There's a reason why "wry" and "sardonic" are my trademarks.

If you think I made a big production about eggs, you should see the chickens. Quite honestly I had no idea egg laying was such a co-operative and thoughtful activity. I witnessed the whole production while working on one of the rabbit areas.

First a rooster and a hen or two will go into the coop. There's all kinds of chirps, squawks and low cooing going on. I don't understand any of it but it's obvious there's quite the discussion going on about where to lay the egg, how to lay the egg, when to lay the egg. At some point, I just want to yell, "SO LAY THE EGG ALREADY." The birds check out corners, nest boxes, etc. The rooster is in on every aspect of the inspection and he is not shy about voicing his opinion. Finally everybody leaves except for the egg layer who will settle down in the decided location which is, without fail, anywhere but in a nest box. She'll ruffle a couple of times, may-be peck a bit then settles and sits quietly. There is absolutely no doubt when she lays the egg because she clucks her head off - LOUDLY. A couple of hens will come in and tell her she's done a wonderful job and after the chicken equivalent of hand shaking and cigar giving is finished every one goes out to find some bugs to eat.

When they all go out, clucking comfortably to each other, I go to collect the egg. As I pick up that perfect brown egg, I realize I have totally underestimated chickens. While I never thought they were dumb or mindless ~much~ I didn't realize what a co-operative and supportive bunch they are. Community is important to them and everybody is interested in everybody else's doings. Chickens are much more than they are portrayed. Deepening awareness comes in many forms, I'm having mine sunny-side up with a side of bacon.

Not the Usual Autumn Day

Autumn days are steadfast and purposeful. The last of the outside work is getting finished. Put the gardens to bed, move some maple saplings, winterize the chicken coop, preserve the last lingering pumpkins. A feeling of satisfaction follows me as I catch up to the straggling chores. Autumn is not fueled by the hyper rush of Spring and Summer. Autumn does not know their frantic pace. Nor does Autumn have their joy but it brings a feeling of accomplishment and steadiness that Spring and Summer have no use for. There's a comfort Autumn owns exclusively. I feel it every time I walk into the house and smell the juniper burning in my wood stove. The fire warms with gold and orange flames. Autumns' glow is most welcome inside the house. Most Autumn days are like that, then I have a day like yesterday...

It actually started the evening before when I went to pick up a Guinea fowl. Just a wee little thing that somehow hatched under a chicken. The only egg to hatch, the keet had little to no chance of survival especially since the hen wasn't interested in staying on the nest. I was asked to take the keet so I did. I got the little guy home, set him up in a plastic bin brooder with the heat lamp. He is no bigger than my thumb, but by his mouth, you'd never know it. Peep peep peep peep.

The next morning I woke up with an odd feeling. It was quiet...too quiet, no gentle hum of the fridge or any of those household noises that you don't notice until they fall silent. Then it hit me, I shot straight up in bed (not the smartest move when your bed is under a slanted attic roof). We had gotten a notice the week before that the electric company was cutting power between 1 - 7 AM and of course, I forgot all about it. My poor keet! I ran downstairs and the poor little thing was barely moving. I cupped him in my hands and held him close until the power came back - only two hours late. By then he was pretty perky. I, on the other hand was not.

That was the beginning of a very long day. The adventures continued in the afternoon. The chickens managed to dig out under the fence and happily meandered all over our place and the neighbours. Chickens don't herd well, and they won't negotiate. It took the kids and I quite a while to get them back into the pen. You know when you're on a long drive and somebody in car keeps asking "Are we there yet?" Well, by 3 o'clock, my little voice started with "Can I go to bed yet?".

Finally, night came and I was thankfully heading off to bed. Dusk wanted out one last time so I let him out in the pen and went to turn of the computer. The unmistakable odor of skunk wafted through the house. I went outside hoping it wasn't what I thought, but it was, Dusk got skunked. My night was extended by another 2 hours. Dusk hates baths and trying to convince a dog that weights more than I do to get into the tub is hopeless. I swear, that dog must have been a hippie in a past life; he's got the lay-down-in-a-heap-and-just-try-to-move-me protest move down pat. I finally got him in by wedging him between the tub and toilet and kept crowding him until he had to get into the tub or the potty. It was close, but he chose the tub. By that point, I didn't care where he chose to go, as long as he got wet. I washed him in a pretty effective solution of hydrogen peroxide, dish detergent and baking soda. It did cut the smell to a bearable level.

So the day that started at 6 AM ended at 1 AM the following day. Not a typical Autumn day, but one that will linger in my memory for a long time.

Canning tomatoes

I first started canning tomatoes back in the 80's. I was living in a suburb and a Farmer's Market had just opened. I noticed that at many stalls there would be huge boxes of over-ripe tomatoes growers were selling for next to nothing. That's when I decided to learn about canning tomatoes. I was thrilled with the results. The best part was I controlled exactly what went into the tomatoes, or more accurately, what didn't. No salt, no sugar, no extra water or flavorings. And I thought they tasted better, but that was probably just because I made them. Then I moved to the city, got a "real job" and canning tomatoes fell to the wayside.

Now, having a garden of my own, canning tomatoes is possible again. Rooting out all my canning supplies, I was surprised how well the canner and bottles had survived the years and countless moves. The biggest challenge was actually finding the equipment in a sea of rather dusty and worn boxes. Believe it or not, there were boxes that had never been opened in two or three moves.

Canning tomatoes is easy. This year I grew mostly Roma tomatoes, they are also known as Italian or plum tomatoes. They are the easiest to proccess because they peel so fast and in one clean step. Dip them in boiling water for about 30 seconds, drop 'em in cold water, fish 'em out, cut off the top, squeeze the bottom and voila, the tomato slips out with a plop and no mess. Their size and shape are perfect for canning, very little cutting or chopping is required.

So here they are all skinned and ready for the jars. Recommendations for canning have changed in the last 20 years. Now they say to cover the jars an inch over the top with water in the canner, when I first did them, the water just went up to the bottle necks. As well, lemon juice is added to the bottles before putting the tomatoes in. Apparently, tomatoes have less acidity in them then they used to (unlike some people I know who tend to get more acidic as they grow older). Back in the day, I always cold packed them. I did try hot packing them but it seemed like more work and time for no difference in the end anyways.

The biggest challenge are getting the tomatoes ripe. Our growing season is so short here, that by the time the first frost threatens, most of the tomatoes are just thinking of turning red. So I put them in boxes, layed between sheets of newspaper. I'm supposed to wrap each and every tomato in newspaper but what a pain when trying to find the ripe ones! A lot of unwrapping and wrapping goes on and by the time I get through the two hundred or so tomatoes, chances are a few more have ripened! The layers work pretty well. I do add a couple of apples to the boxes because it's supposed to help with the ripening. Anyhow, it doesn't take too long for them to ripe. What is really nice is that they don't all ripen at the same rate so I do a batch every now and then instead of having way too many to do all at once.

The best thing is that the canned tomatoes last from season to season. By the time I use the last jar of my tomatoes, new jars are all ready to take their place.

Calendulas

When I first started with Aromatherapy, I kept reading about the amazing healing and soothing powers of Calendula for skin. Unfortunately, there is no Calendula essential oil, just too hard to produce, I would think. A tiny little 20 gram tube of Calendula cream can set you back twenty or so dollars and wouldn't last all that long anyhow. So I learned to live without...until I got a garden. The plants themselves are very hardy and self-seeding. I can usually see them popping up around April, which is awfully early around here for anything to even start thinking of growing.

I found out Calendula flowers can easily be infused in oil. The oil absorbs the Calendula's healing properties and I can use it in remedies, lotions and creams. Most of my lotions and creams have about 20 - 50 per cent Calendula oil in them. I think it's great stuff.

Calendula flowers are easy to dry, just pick the whole flower and put 'em on newspaper until the petals practically fall off. They say the darker the petal, the more medicinal it is so I like the double, dark orange blooms. The only way I use them fresh is when my daughter needs some for her skin care. I steep some calendula petals in with some green tea and she uses it as a toner, it does seem to really help the problems of teenage skin. Sometimes for an extra boost, I'll add a couple of drops of lavender essential oil.

I find infusing them is a piece of cake. Once the petals are completely dried, I put them in a jar and top it off with organic cold pressed olive oil. Fresh petals can be used instead of dried but then I'm mucking around with trying to syphon off the water from the fresh petals and if I don't get it all, there can be a mold issue, which I'd rather not deal with. Once the petals are in the oil, I put the jar in on a sunny window sill and or on top of a heat vent and shake once a day. And voila, two weeks later, I have a lovely golden oil that pretty much will keep until the next harvest. All I do is strain it, squeezing every drop of that lovely oil out of the petals and keep it in the fridge.

disclaimer: This is how I use calendula for Aromatherapy, I am not recommending you do the same.

First Worm Castings

My little Dendrodrilus Ribidus are doing very well. The bin seems happy and full of life. I am seeing a lot of worm cocoons and little tiny worms so I'm guessing all is well now. I did have a bit of an issue a little while ago when I change the bedding. I used brown leaves that I soaked in water then drained for their bedding. I obviously didn't check the leaves well enough and I discovered a couple of centipedes in the bin a few days later. Centipedes are a no-no; they eat baby worms and generally cause havoc and mayhem. I've got enough havoc and mayhem in my regular life, I don't need it in my worm bin. Anyhow, everything seems to be back to rights now.

I did discover those little yellow and orange eggs I mentioned in my last worm entry were indeed worm cocoons. I took a few of of the eggs and put them in a small container with damp leaves. In a few days, the container was teeming with brand new worms! Ah, science at a basic level - "Let's try it and see what happens".

When I did change the bedding, I ended up with worm castings. Worm castings is beautiful, black, earthy smelling stuff. It is absolutely gorgeous to look at, considering worm castings is basically worm poop. I bagged the castings but left the top open for a couple of days. Sure enough, I had missed a few cocoons and found a bunch of baby worms. So they are now in the bin and I have some great stuff to plant in next spring. I think I will use it right around the seeds and plants.

Changing the bin's bedding and collecting the castings is a major operation. First I have to get Don and P, teenage son, to haul the heavy bin outside. Then on a plastic sheet that is in full sun, I remove all the contents, trying to make a mini-mountain shape. The worms don't like the sun and burrow deep down. So then I start removing the castings until I hit the worms again, I'll wait a few minutes while they wiggle furiously further down to escape from the light. I remove some more of the castings and repeat the process, and repeat and repeat and repeat until all I have left is a rather large and extremely annoyed squirm of worms. I put them in the nice, fresh bin and get the boys to haul the bin back down into the nice cool wood room. I was surprised at how long it took, almost two hours, which is why I see it as a major operation. But it was worth it, the castings are very impressive.

I did try something new that didn't seem to work at first. Usually I give them pretty 'aged', shall we say, bunny manure for food. Well, that's almost composted completely so last time I fed them, I used fresher stuff that I soaked in water for a while. I found it really heated up the bin and the worms didn't like that. They stayed away from manure. I just checked it this morning and while I found it was still giving off heat, I found the worms happily devouring it. I'm figuring the warming may not be a bad thing for the winter, that wood room gets awfully cold and a little heat might be welcomed. As long as I don't put too much in at one time. A bit of experimentation will be needed, I think. Simple science is calling again...