In the Land of Suspended Animation

IMG-2874

It’s been a chilly, wet spring, with very occasional days of sunshine interspersed with mostly cold and rain, even snow far past the point of normalcy.

Normalcy.  I think up until mid-March, I could probably define what that is.  Now, I’m not sure.

Eventually, we humans normalize everything.  And so it is here, as we, along with so many others, have adjourned from most human contact.  We venture out very little, and when we do it is masked, gloves and with cleaning wipes in hand.  It’s nearly impossible to imagine that just 2 months ago we were sharing food with friends and socializing.

I’m accepting of our new normal, but I miss our family and friends.  And as I find my energy again I’m torn between loving some of this pause in the eternal busyness of my life, and wishing it would get back to normal for all of us.

Whatever normal is.

Despite that wish, there are so many joys in what I call the Land of Suspended Animation.  Finding a free weekend day for yard work is no longer a problem.  Feeling overbooked, or too busy other than my current work schedule is a nonissue.  Since even a trip to the grocery store is a fraught experience, and up until recently no one could go anyway because of quarantine, we’ve opted for delivery for the last month, saving us time and energy, if costing more in tips for the hardworking Instacart delivery folks, to whom I am profoundly grateful.

Eventually we’ll have to venture out, but not yet.

Despite the odd pause that much of humanity is taking, Mother Nature is not.  The world continues to bloom around me, despite the ongoing chill.  The birds begin to sing in advance of dawn every morning.  While the heat is still on inside, outside is becoming a riot of color.  Myrtle is blooming everywhere, with tiny purple flowers among the deep green leaves,  and naturalized daffodils and violas spring up in the strangest places. I check daily in the hopes of one tiny stalk peeking up, the harbinger of Asparagus season kicking off.  And yesterday, there it was.  It will be a few days before we can harvest, but there’s nothing like it to tell me that the world is moving on whether humanity is or not.

IMG-2882

Spring is my best reminder of how many lifetimes Sithean has seen.  The asparagus was planted over 60 years ago, the peach trees are older than that,  It’s almost impossible to know how long the trench bed has been there.  It may have been part of the original gardens back in 1850, long before the house moved to it’s current location, about 200 yards from where it was built.  It gives me perspective on our relative impermanence here in the world, and how humanity is just a component.

This is just a moment.

My seedlings are getting big, and I transplant them to larger pots and containers at every opportunity.  The tulip bulbs Eli and I planted last fall are starting to come up, including the checkered tulips, or Fritillaria meleagris that my neighbor and I were enchanted by during an outing for her birthday last year that bloom with their heads hanging down.  I searched for until I found some for both of us, and we planted them last fall.  “They’re up!” captioned a delighted picture from her a few days ago, so I went hunting for mine in the rain.    I think I’ll add some more this year.   It’s hard for Eli and I to get excited about digging into the rocky soil here in the chill of fall, but it’s worth it as each spring more and more flowers bloom because of it.

But despite all the movement and growth, here we sit.  For as long as it takes, without having any idea of how long it will take, like hedgehogs in a perpetual winter hibernation or caterpillars in their chrysalis  .  Unlike hedgehogs though, our heart rates are fast, and anxiety is often high.  Still, we have adjusted to the confines of our smaller world.  I remind myself always to enjoy these moments, for they too, shall pass.

We cook.  We talk.  We work.  What comes next I don’t know and there’s much I can’t control.  But the garden will still grow and the flowers will still bloom, and for that I am grateful.  This place is our stability from the storm, which may last far longer than all of us hope for.  There’s so much I miss, but I find myself so grateful for this place and my family with me.   We are tethered to this tiny piece of earth and one another, and it fills me with hope, always.

I wish the same for you.

 

 

Springtime Chill

IMG-2850

Despite the fact that we woke up to snow Saturday morning (which was then sleet and finally rain), the sun came back the next day, just in time for springtime preparations here on the farmlet.  Sunday we spent a good chunk of our morning in the yard, cleaning up leaves and debris, planting some snap peas, and a few other projects that have been lingering.

Like every year,   there’s good news and bad news.  Only one of the two baby apricot trees made it through the winter.  The fig tree didn’t survive either, but we have 2 new apple trees and a couple cold hardy cherry trees as well, and a mulberry tree on the way.  On the good news front the Seckel Pear tree seems to be budding, all the bulbs Eli and I planted last fall are coming up, and my hibiscus trees, bought on discount last year as I went to order wedding flowers, thrived in the dining room over the winter.   Which has indicated that perhaps I can also keep citrus trees that way, so I ordered a Meyer Lemon tree in a mad rush of optimism.

I’m technically done with quarantine, but taking it very slowly as I re-enter the world, and of course we’re doing that as little as possible.  I’m still exhausted a good chunk of the time, weeks later.  Still, I and my family got lucky to be minimally impacted, and I’m grateful.

While I had to pace myself, gardening and yard work is somewhat meditative for me, and I find it more relaxing than tiring, even though I could clean up the yard for months without stopping and there would still be more to do.

IMG-2849

Still, after 2 wheel barrels full of leaves and debris, and some snap peas in the ground, it was time to take a break.  Alice the chicken apparently thought so too.

Monday was back to chilly and grey, and I got up early to go for a walk and get dinner into the Crockpot.  This time of year, when it’s warming up but all too slowly, it’s the perfect time for a Crockpot meal.

I took a 3-lb pot roast and sprinkled it with salt, and pepper and then pan-seared it, before putting it into the crock.  Using the same pan, I added more olive oil, chopped a couple onions, 4 cloves of garlic and a carrot, and sauteed them until soft.

Then I took a large can of crushed tomatoes, a cup of red wine (cooking wine works just fine here) a teaspoon each of Allspice and Cinnamon, and a half a teaspoon of ground cloves, plus some salt and pepper, let that cook for a few minutes to meld flavors, and then poured it over the roast in the Crockpot and let it cook for 8 hours.

The kitchen smelled amazing – the combination of tomato and red wine with spices more frequently used for baking is not to be missed.

I served it over cauliflower mash, and honestly, it was just the thing to start the week off.  Today is due to be warmer and there’s plenty of pot roast leftovers, plus some chicken soup with rice to finish off as well.

I hope you and yours are staying safe.

 

 

Breadmaking in a Time of Pandemic

IMG-2764

It seems like everyone has re-discovered their kitchen these days.  With lots of time at home and a need to limit contact with others, cooking and baking are on the rise.  Here’s some simple things you can make in quarantine, with things you probably already have in the kitchen.

I’ll talk more about my own experience with C19 later.   Let’s just leave it for now, as I still waffle between bursts of energy and profound exhaustion.  Still,  I finally found myself back in the kitchen, profoundly grateful to be able to be where I was.  While I recognized that my relative youth and good health were in my favor during my comparatively mild experience, there’s nothing like a bout with a virus that has killed over 100,000 people in a couple short months to give you a reality check.

I felt nothing but blessed to be back amongst my cookbooks and cooks tools.  And given the challenge that finding flour is, I was deeply glad I buy mine in bulk.  We had the better part of 20 pounds of organic white flour (I buy 30 lbs at a time) lying around, plus a few variations.  Still, if you need some, I highly recommend One Mighty Mill, right down the road.

Connor and I, who have been reading the Little House books,  with the intent to make everything in the Little House Cookbook as a result (He hasn’t been into homeschooling.  Food, he’s into, so I decided it was better if Mohammed goes to the mountain, so to speak) dove in to his first recipe of homemade bread.  In this case we veered off of the Little House so for something simple that might pique his interest, and it did, and then some.  On and off for well over a decade I’ve been making the recipe from Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day, and it’s a great starter recipe for anyone who hasn’t got tons of experience with baking.   Years ago, Kiera titled it ‘Mommy Bread’ but now it’s officially ‘Connor Bread’.  His pride in his breadmaking skills is profound.

I veer off the recipe link in a few ways.  One, we add different flours.  Typically about 1 cup of the 6.5 cups in the recipe are a combination of whole wheat, buckwheat and oat flour.  This is healthier and richer than plain white bread.  The other is that I use a regular old baking sheet sprinkled with cornmeal to prevent the bread from sticking.

We ate it with Rosemary Ranch Chicken, salad, couscous and another so-easy-anyone-can-do-it recipe, pickled onions.  Pickled onions have been something of a trend in the last couple of years, but they are very easy.  All you need is cider vinegar, sugar, salt an onion and some time.

You will need:

1 red onion, sliced thin (you can use white too, but you won’t get the awesome pink color)
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1 1/2 tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons salt

Mix vinegar, salt and sugar until the sugar is dissolved.  Add onion slices.  Let sit for a couple hours, until soft, periodically stirring.  Eat.

Today, we’re going to prepare for Easter by making birdseed eggs for our bird feeders.  These are a great project for kids too, and super easy to do.  A bit messy, but that’s not bad, if you can take the mixture outside, all the better.  Birds can then help you clean up the mess.

Keep safe all.

 

 

Remembrances

IMG-2699

I’ve been walking a lot lately.  I haven’t had a lot of interest in running, although I’m sure I will at some point, but right now, it’s about being outside and enjoying the peace that comes with exercise rather than any need to push myself.  I make my coffee, lace up my sneakers, and unless it’s raining heavily, go as soon as it’s light out for about 3 miles.  No music or podcasts, just my thoughts and the scenery around me.  I never grow tired of the landscape around me, and every day I notice something new – the moss growing up a tree trunk, the way a tree leans over a small creek, birds.  It’s a time for me to collect my thoughts and prepare for the day.

Before I go though, I log the day’s counts in my diary.  The number infected in Massachusetts, the US, Globally.  Recovered.  Deaths.

I don’t do it to be morbid, I do it to ensure I remember.  To hold myself accountable for my memory.  Years from now I may forget how the body count doubled in just a week, how 1000 died in a single day here in the US, the terror I feel knowing my sister, a nurse, is treating the ill with a limited amount of protective gear, like so many other medical professionals.  How completely exhausting it is to weigh every decision to go out as a matter of life and death.   How, at the beginning it seemed like a slow threat, but then one that advanced so rapidly it was hard to figure out what reaction was correct at any given moment.  How much time I spend praying that this horrific virus passes us by, and our loved ones, our friends, our community.  How I got upset at my daughter for not helping make her bed, which wasn’t what mattered, it was my fear that maybe I wouldn’t be there to do it for her in the future.  How much I fear that, most of all.

And how little control I feel about all of it.

It’s important to remember this stuff.  Someday, when the veil of history comes down, and it’s ‘this happened, and people died’ it’s important to remember the stories of the people that were impacted by job loss and food insecurity, by illness, that died too early.  To remember it as it really was, and to tell the story that way, not through the haze that time eventually puts on all of our memories.

But it’s also important to remember the moments.  I admit, as stressful as it is for all of us to juggle work and kids home all the time, I love them being there.  I love being home with my family every single day.  In early March, as the virus closed in and schools started letting out to ‘disinfect’, ultimately to never reopen, my son and I went to the grocery store.   In retrospect, I shouldn’t have brought him, but my memory of him grabbing his own basket and going to select the things important to him is one I love right now.  I remember the worry and not a small bit of admiration at my fiercely independent 7 year old trotting down the aisle, determined to contribute.  “Did I do good Mom?” he said, as he came back with ice cream, a couple bags of orange chicken, cups of ramen, and frozen edamame.  “Yes, baby, you did perfect.”.    He was so proud to have helped us be supplied with the things he liked.  I’ve always loved grocery shopping, and it seems that I’ve passed that on to my younger child.  We always come home with stuff I might not buy, but he views the grocery store much like I do, as an endless wonderland of options.

Only a few weeks ago, but it feels like a lifetime.    I want to remember too, that the world still turned green, that the forsythia started to bloom, and daffodils appeared in the yard, that spring is here, regardless of the horror outside our yard.  I need to remember the good things and the beauty as well, when the world paused for a while.

IMG-2690

Tonight we start up a new tradition.  Dinner and a movie, with the 5 people allowed in our world right now – Eli, myself, the kids and their Dad.  I’m cooking Pumpkin Lasagna with Fontina and Sage, and we’ll grill Rosemary Ranch Chicken, add a salad and some cut veggies, and maybe make Pac Man cupcakes with the leftover frosting and cupcakes from Eli’s birthday.    We might do a little Just Dance on the Nintendo.   We will absolutely laugh.

Above all things, I want to remember how much gratitude I have for my amazing and limitlessly patient husband, for my children, for my life.

I will remember this, someday in a later time as one of pain and fear for all of us in the world, but also as a time when we remembered what really mattered.  Each other.