Whee!

Apparently when my husband is out of town, I turn into a fourteen-year-old. Staying up late watching chick flicks, eating an entire loaf of zucchini bread and cream cheese by myself, snacking for supper... To redeem myself, I did do two batches of laundry and beheaded the catalpa trees in the front yard. But it's not much accomplishment for a week on my own...

I went to physio this week, and when I mentioned my husband was away, the therapist crowed that her husband was away too, and it was chick flicks and eating whatever she wanted while he was away, and then she high-fived me. Snicker.

He comes home tonight, though, so it's time to smarten up and try to appear a bit less indolent. He'll be tired after a week of intense renovations up at the church, so I want him to be able to walk into a home where nothing needs to be done. I might even cook dinner...

Tomorrow and Sunday I have General Conference, a ten-hour church conference broadcast from Salt Lake City, spread over two glorious days. My favourite time of year! Life is good.

...and Jelly

Turning some of the juice into grape jelly. We can use some of it for gifts and some of it for those times when we're just not feeling the low-carb diet. Ambrosia!

Grape juice time!

Homemade grape juice is the best stuff on the planet. I didn't get around to bottling the tomatoes, peaches, pears, or apples this year, but the grapes just HAD to happen. I got three bushels from a farmer in St. Catharines, and it was a glorious drive to pick them up. Cool autumn air, the sun glinting off Lake Ontario, the delicious tang of the grapes scenting the air, and the windows rolled down to blow the fruit flies out of my face as the car filled up...

I've juiced half and have 20 bottles of lovely deep-purple juice so far. It froths a brilliant pink unlike anything Welch's can produce, and it doesn't stain the way commercial grape juice does. Which is a good thing, because a clogged pipe in my steamer resulted in a bit of a puddle on the white tile and down inside the stove...but it cleaned up perfectly and we were soon back in business. 

As an extra bonus, on my drive back to the city I passed an antiques flea market. Stopped on an impulse, walked up to the first vendor, bought a beautiful but inexpensive oil lamp, and got back in the car. A 2-minute transaction to acquire something I've been looking for for weeks. I'll have to go back, though, to explore the flea market more thoroughly, as it looks like a fun place to browse.

Time to start putting the garden to bed

It has been a good gardening year, in spite of a late start and almost no rain all summer. The green beans have outdone themselves, and now I'm letting them slow down and produce seeds. The cabbage was a bit disappointing compared to most years, and while the planted tomatoes were pathetic, the volunteers coming out of the composter were incredibly productive. Cherry tomatoes the size of golf balls, and hundreds of them! Just goes to show you the value of compost. 

I have potatoes and spaghetti squash stored in the basement, peas in the freezer, and I have a couple of bottles of dehydrated/powdered mizuna, lamb's quarters, and beet greens. The kale struggled in the heat this year, but the onions were happy. The carrots are still to be harvested. I've told you my garlic woes (ended up purchasing some from a garlic farmer friend), and the zucchini were yummy but sparse. The cauliflower never formed, but they never do, but I keep planting it optimistically. The raspberries and strawberries really shone this year, but the asparagus wasn't much to brag about. And more rhubarb and lettuce than I knew what to do with. The good-old reliable dry beans did well as usual. Finally, the cucumbers were amazing and kept us well fed, and the peppers produced one (1) blossom which amounted to nothing.

So, yeah, it was a weird year. Lots of ups and downs. Some things that usually flourish produced zilch, and other things that are usually ho-hum were amazing. I'm letting things go to seed now, winding down and starting to empty the beds in preparation for mulch for the winter. Need to clean and oil my tools and organize the shed. Need to try to locate matching pairs of gloves (I always seem to end up with a dozen left-handed gloves and no rights). Time to trim back the lavender. I've planted red clover in one bed to try to break up the soil a bit and add some humus. I've also scattered some milkweed and coneflower seed for next year's butterflies. I need to focus on digging in compost, as I've seen the good results that come from that.

While I'm putting it all away for the winter, I'm watching the descent of the dark earlier and earlier, and I'm thinking up strategies to mitigate the seasonal affective disorder depression that inevitably follows. I have stacks of books to look forward to (thank you, Sheri!), and I had a long talk with my weaving instructor about projects for this fall. I have all this lovely stored garden produce to look forward to eating. I have fake sunlight grow-lights in the kitchen and near my work space in the dining room.

Still, it's hard to let go of the real sunshine. It has been amazing this long, hot summer.

The Long Emergency

I just finished reading The Long Emergency by Kunstler, an interesting, thought-provoking, and slightly terrifying book about the post-peak-oil economy. The book was written in 2005, but everything the author talks about and anticipates has come about, with a vengeance. This includes the housing bubble burst in 2008, the pandemic, droughts, the set-up to potential U.S. civil war, and current geopolitical events. It was one of those books you have to stop and ponder frequently as you read, and afterward I was left wishing there was a 2022 update. Or that I could invite Kunstler to dinner and just explore his brain and his thoughts for the future.

One of the things he discusses is the inevitable attrition facing the human population and the likely end solution in smaller, localized economies. Think small, resilient, agrarian communities pulling together and drawing on the skills and knowledge of each member for the common good. It made me want to start inventorying my neighbours to learn what skills and tools they have to share. I also need to look at ways to increase my own utility. I know how to do quite a few things, but there is always so much more to learn. I'd especially like to do more woodworking and basic building and repair. Kunstler noted that one of the most valuable skills will be to take old things and repair them and restore them to usefulness. I like the sound of that.

I may not be around long enough to take part in the full collapse. But I want to be around long enough to help smooth my kids' and grandkids' journeys however I can. I have been preparing my whole life for this without even realizing it -- I've always been drawn to the simple farm life, growing food, preserving it, weaving and crocheting, making things with my hands. This coming year I'm going to look for more ways to increase my resilience and that of my family and those around me. We're going to need it.