Surely Santa has begun a preliminary tally of naughty & nice kiddos, but my list has naught to do with the song, Santa, or Christmas wishes. (In fact, nothing that I seriously wish for can be purchased, and what I actually need is less of that which I have in abundance: clutter, over-full closets, access to negative news, etc.) Rather, the "list" in my blog title refers to our reasons for thanks-giving, and there are many--big important reasons like good health, comfy quarters, personal safety, close friends, and cherished family. Though turkey and aftermath sandwiches lack such gravitas, they are among my reasons for eager anticipation of this upcoming day of thanks. Also included: raw cranberry/orange relish, baked yams, pumpkin pull-apart bread, and sparkling cider.
The acorns featured in my previous blog are not on my list of savory reasons to give thanks. Emphatically not! I have concluded that no amount of roasting, butter, salt, or garlic can transform bur oak nut meats into worthy snacks. I reluctantly eat one or two per day and remind myself that many would welcome such grim fare. I love the oak trees that thrive in our yard; I hope the seedlings that I planted last spring survive the winter and grow to robust maturity over the next decades; I continue to nurture six acorns that lie dormant in moist vermiculite and await planting next spring. However, any nutmeats that they and their predecessors produce henceforth will not be harvested for our use. Wild gleaners--raccoons, foxes, or birds--are welcome to them.
With the exception of those nasty acorns, fresh produce from orchard and garden is nearly gone. The last Macs went into a double batch of apple rum cake. Tail end tomatoes simmered into lentil soup and baked into veggie pie. The few remaining buttercup squash may become compost before we have time to bake them.
As of this evening, ewes and bucks are separated. Ewes will go onto pasture that the cows just vacated, trekking down the driveway and up the county road every morning and returning to the corral each evening--hopefully trimming their hooves en route--until snow cover forces us to start feeding hay. We'd like to postpone that responsibility until 2018.
In between routine chores I am painting, motivated by a commitment to display with other MT Watercolor Society members during Western Art Week in March. That date feels remote, but there is much to do before I will be ready. I envision numerous small paintings of barns. For now, ideas are accumulating faster than inventory.
The acorns featured in my previous blog are not on my list of savory reasons to give thanks. Emphatically not! I have concluded that no amount of roasting, butter, salt, or garlic can transform bur oak nut meats into worthy snacks. I reluctantly eat one or two per day and remind myself that many would welcome such grim fare. I love the oak trees that thrive in our yard; I hope the seedlings that I planted last spring survive the winter and grow to robust maturity over the next decades; I continue to nurture six acorns that lie dormant in moist vermiculite and await planting next spring. However, any nutmeats that they and their predecessors produce henceforth will not be harvested for our use. Wild gleaners--raccoons, foxes, or birds--are welcome to them.
With the exception of those nasty acorns, fresh produce from orchard and garden is nearly gone. The last Macs went into a double batch of apple rum cake. Tail end tomatoes simmered into lentil soup and baked into veggie pie. The few remaining buttercup squash may become compost before we have time to bake them.
As of this evening, ewes and bucks are separated. Ewes will go onto pasture that the cows just vacated, trekking down the driveway and up the county road every morning and returning to the corral each evening--hopefully trimming their hooves en route--until snow cover forces us to start feeding hay. We'd like to postpone that responsibility until 2018.
In between routine chores I am painting, motivated by a commitment to display with other MT Watercolor Society members during Western Art Week in March. That date feels remote, but there is much to do before I will be ready. I envision numerous small paintings of barns. For now, ideas are accumulating faster than inventory.
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