Living with Radar O'Reilly

A miracle came into our lives last year, disguised as our pal Sparky.

In exchange for her living expenses here at Dancing Rabbit she helps us with just about everything. She paints our house (she's a professional), walks our dog (she's Baloo's au pair), brushes the cat (seriously), and tidies up the place. Which believe me, it needs. I have the housekeeping skills of Joan Crawford's abandoned children, and have even been known to use wire hangers.

Sparky topped herself today though. When I came downstairs to fix lunch, the oven was already preheating. When I asked why, she said "I figured you'd want to warm up lunch." Yep. I'd made pizza (from scratch, totally yummy) the night before, and she knew that Kurt likes his crust crunchy. BUT I HADN'T EVEN SAID ANYTHING!

And then, when I asked her if she knew when anyone was going into town, she replied, with just a little glimmer in her eye "oh, yeah. I already asked Annie to pick up some more Dr. Pepper for you when she goes to the fair today."

Who needs Fairy Godmothers? The Milkweeds have Sparky! (Thanks again for all you do!)

Floating in Heaven

A week ago former Sandhellion Miss Lindsey came to visit. First thing on her list after arriving, hot and sweaty on a bike, was a swim in the new pond. I'd not been swimming in it yet, so thought "what the heck."

What the heck, indeed! It was absolute heaven. Big, big, bigger than our 'old' pond, this one feels like it is totally surrounded by prairie and sky. My favorite thing to do now is to swim to the middle of the pond, float on my back, and watch the clouds roll by.

I'll try to take a photo tomorrow so you can see what all the fuss is about.

Speaking of photos, today I took several hundred (seriously) photos of Mercantile merchandise. It was pretty darned fun, and some of them even turned out ok!

Gorgeous bowl by local artisan Arlo Trueblood, soon to be available at www.milkweedmercantile.com

And last night Meadow and Amy S. came over and spent a couple of hours mixing herbs and spices into delicious, aromatic blends that we'll use in sachets, dream pillows, tub teas and other delights. Here is a pic of Meadow, mixing like a house on fire:

And speaking of delights, look at ML brought me from the Bay Area - a big pile of SF Chronicles, heavy on the Datebook sections.

The single most difficult thing for me about living in rural Missouri is not being able to get a Sunday paper on Sunday. You'd wouldn't think it would be difficult, but it is more than difficult - it's impossible. The local paper The Memphis Democrat comes out weekly, on Thursday. No funnies though, and all of the editorials talk about being Christian as if there are no other alternatives. We tried getting the St. Louis and the Kansas City papers, but the Sunday editions arrived on Thursday. Not much help when you're craving a big fat paper with your coffee and pancakes. We tried having Sunday on Friday morning (after the paper arrival on Thursday) but it just didn't feel the same. And when we tried to get the SF Chronicle, it was laughable. Apparently the newspaper is the lowest of the low priorities for the postal service. Sometimes it would take two weeks to get here, sometimes four weeks, sometimes five days. But it was never consistent, so it was tricky to follow not only the funnies but the news too.

So I am savoring my Datebooks, reading Leah Garchick and Jon Carroll so slowly that my lips move. I giggle at Rhymes with Orange, and check in with my friends at For Better or Worse. I drool over the recipes in the food section, and envy the vast populace of the Bay Area for their easy access to great restaurants and first run foreign films.

But I soon get over it. I listen to the birds, and then go for a swim under the huge blue sky. Then, over an icy Dr. Pepper, I re-read a two-week old Chronicle and sigh. What a great day!

I'm back!

Whoops! I'm a bit behind. So here goes, blogging at the speed of sound!

A fabulous group of students from Wash U in St. Louis who run the Burning Kumquat Farm Coop. LOVE THEM - look at those FACES. Couldn't decide whether to adopt or try to hire each and every one of them. Bright, funny, warm and enthusiastic, they give me hope for the future...

Smiling Kumquats in my kitchen...

There is a roof on the Mercantile! Yeah! Roger Fox and his intrepid crew finished in less than a week. Oddly, they left muddy footprints on the roof.

Totally cool equipment, dude.

And just because you're reading this, my joke of the month:

Q: What did Baloo say when he saw Roger Fox?

A: Roof! Roof!

Teamwork (enlarge this and check out what is going on!)

And now that the roof is on, the windows are going in. Yippee!!! This is the front porch.

This week was the week of roofs: on Saturday Kurt went out and finished the roof on our uber-cute wood shed. Imagine it painted white, with a red door, and climbing roses and clematis along the sides. How fab is that going to be?

Kurt and the wood shed.

Then we went to Arlo Trueblood's and picked up a load of straw. Well, actually I didn't go along, I just gave them really poor directions...

Angella, Sierra and Ewan hanging out in the trailer.

And merchandise has been pouring in for our July 1st webstore launch. I am SO EXCITED - the stuff is so, so cool. I am even excited about the packaging. Look at how Down to Earth Distributors packed their shipment:

These are recycled, newly perforated cardboard boxes that you're looking at. I am just so impressed, and relieved that there are folks like this out there doing business.

I'll get some of our cool products posted soon. And I promise I'll write more, maybe even every day! Thanks Amy and Sparky for reading - I'll get those checks to you soon!

Wildcrafting Violets

I decided to give morel hunting one more try. Six-year-old Toren and I set out on Friday, and covered lots of land. We did not find any morels, and so decided to concentrate on violets instead. After a successful dish on Thursday (sauteed violet leaves with crisped bacon) and sprinkling violet flowers on our fresh asparagus (see the steaming platter above) I was excited to see what else I could do.

Collecting wild violets.

Out came my 1971 edition Stalking the Healthful Herbs by Euell Gibbons, aquired years ago at a library book sale. I was in high school in the '70's, passionate about Music (Deep Purple, Jackson Browne, Grand Funk, Earth Wind & Fire, Jethro Tull, John Denver and Joni Mitchell), trips to Berkeley, and hanging out with my friends. Not much else penetrated my pointed little head at the time. Euell Givens was in a commercial for Grape Nuts Cereal. Standing in front of a pine tree, he claimed happily "many parts are edible!" We'd laugh and laugh - imagine even thinking of eating a pine tree!

Years later I came across a book by John McPhee called A Roomful of Hovings. In it, Givens was one of five people profiled. His initial forays into wildcrafting came about to keep from starving as a child. Finding that he had a knack and great interest, he researched and found not only voluminous nutritional information about wild plants but many, many ways to use them, too. I was humbled, chastened, and a bit embarassed by my youthful callousness.

Fast forward years later. I now find myself living in rural Missouri. Every spring everyone gets all hepped up about morels. Until now I'd never even tasted one, and felt intimidated about going out to look. But I've been hunting three times now, and while I haven't found many mushrooms, I've become much more comfortable with the idea of wildcrafting. Here's a passage from Healthful Herb that I especially like:

"Meditating on the first specimen of a plant that is new to me opens my eyes and sharpens my awareness until other plants of the same species become visible, standing out from the green background in an abundance that was always there, but which I was unprepared to see until I had gazed deeply at a single specimen. When I collect such plants, take them into my kitchen, and transform them with my own hands into some fragrant or savory seasoning, a delicious dish, or a benign remedy, it has a totally different meaning from using a commercial product. A remedy in which both nature and I have entered deeply does something for my soul as well as for my body."

There is something very lovely about being in the sun-dappled woods, searching for food while having the luxury of a full belly. Surrounded by dozens of different plants and trees, it seems to be a wonderland waiting to be discovered.

Toren and I collected about two cups of violet blossoms (which is perfectly ok, since according to Euell they reproduce underground and not through seed dispersal). We came home and made Violet Jelly. It is a stunningly beautiful color.

Here's the recipe (from Stalking the Healthful Herbs):

1. Fill any size glass jar with violet blossoms, cover with boiling water, put a lid on the jar, and let the blossoms infuse for 24 hours (we used 2 cups of blossoms and one quart of boiling water).
2. Next day, open the jar and strain the blue infusion, discarding the spent violets.
3. In a non-reactive pan, add the juice of 1 lemon (approx. 2 Tb.) and 1 package of commercial powdered pectin to each 2 cups of the infusion.
4. Bring this just to a boil.
5. Add 4 cups sugar. Bring back to a boil and boil hard for 1 minute, then pour into glasses or jars and seal.

Notes:

1. Use a bigger pan than you think you will need - it gets a bit foamy.We probably could have used more blossoms - I don't know if the jelly would have been more purple or not.
2. Euell's recipe says nothing about sterilizing jars or lids, or canning. So I boiled the canning jars the same way I do when canning vegetables, and added the lids for a few minutes. All of the jars sealed, but I think I'll keep them in the fridge just in case.
   

In other news, Kurt and crew have begun to work on the stairs for the Mercantile. It is very exciting!

Risers and landing.

About My Lobotomy

Josie and the escaped mental patient

Yesterday jewelry artist Josie Lamb of Mayapple Creations (and her charming husband Mark) stopped by on their way home to Kentucky from a trade show in Las Vegas. I was delighted to meet her - I've been admiring her jewelry from afar for over a year. When I finally got to see it in person I was not disappointed. It is stunning. Josie was fabulous, also. It was such fun to talk with her, and to pull out my dusty box of sea glass collected years ago at Glass Beach in Fort Bragg, CA. I sent her home with some treasures, and can't wait to see what she comes up with.

ANYWAY, even more impressive than the jewelry is its pedigree. Josie uses only recycled silver (from coins, the photography industry, etc). Because jump rings aren't available in recycled silver, she makes her own. Whew! Talent and dedication.

Mayapple Creations Greensleeves Necklace. Recycled Sterling Siver. Fair Trade pearls & glass beads. Wildcrafted Kentucky Coffeebean.

For example, look at this. It's gorgeous! The large glass beads are Fair Trade certified, which is vitally important for anyone with a conscience - the number of children, ages 5-13, who die each year from silicosis and other ailments contracted while working in the bead industry is staggering, unnecessary and heartbreaking. Beauty does not have to be so expensive. The freshwater pearls are Fair Trade from Thailand, the glass seed beads from the Czech Republic which has an impeccable labor record (the Fair Trade Federation is only utilized in Third World countries).

Mark took several photos of Josie and me sitting at the table discussing all things jewelry, so that I could document the moment and share a bit what the Josie visit was like. Unfortunately, I look like I've just come back from my lobotomy, and Josie looks terrified to be sitting at the same table with the crazy lady. Sigh. Trust me. Really. I'm not that scary. Besides, I fed her (really good, home made) cookies.

While I was talking to Josie 12-year-old Sierra stopped by and breathlessly announced that Brian had found HALF A PILLOWCASE OF MORELS! THEY'RE EVERYWHERE! MUSHROOMS! YOU'VE GOT TO COME SEE! She promised me that she'd show me where to find them the next day.

Well, today was the next day. The weather was beautiful, sunny, and not too hot. So we set off, in search of the delicious morel mushroom.After about five minutes of looking, Angela and Sierra spotted a herd of them. We all rushed over, taking note of surrounding plants, trees, dead wood, etc. Then we spread out to hunt. After a few minutes, I found one. Yeah! I cut it, and placed it in my optimistically-large bag.

I looked for another 45 minutes and didn't find another one. Not. A. One. And then, on the way home, I lost it - somehow it fell out of the bag. Fortunately I have photographic proof:

Still life with Morel and Violets


Teaching Baloo (unsuccessfully) to search for morels. Maybe I should get a pig...


The intrepid mushroom hunter with her (only) trophy.

It's supposed to rain for the next few days. And you know what rain means - mushrooms! I'll let you know how it goes...I can almost smell them sauteeing in butter now...

Shades of Dooce, but much, much paler

What a fabulous surprise to read about Heather Armstrong and her blog Dooce in yesterday's Wall Street Journal (yes, I'm very deep and business-like). I've been a fan of Heather and Chuck's for a few years, and am always happy to cheer on another former Mormon in her descent to the dark side - Utah can use all the vulgarity it can get. I'll give you Book of Mormon Stories!

Photo of Chuck respectfully purloined from the Dooce website for no financial or other gain of my own. You can have a Chuck Calendar of your very own by going here. It is pretty darned fabulous. Chuck wears pants (and wigs and ladles) like no other dog, anywhere!

Inspired by the success of Dooce (#59 in the top 100 blogs) and its income stream (figured by the WSJ author to be $40K/month) I thought I check on my own rating.

I am very proud to report that my blog is rated the 5,137,428th most popular blog online. Yep, my future's so bright, I have to wear shades...

Cliff Hangers and Heirloom Tomatoes

Today, as I puttered about in (what I euphemistically call) my garden, it occurred to me that fall is the ultimate cliff hanger. Last October I mulched and covered and raked and babied the asparagus, blueberries, raspberries, and lone little peach tree. Then came winter. It rained, and snowed, and froze, and thawed. And snowed some more.

It felt like the end of the season of a really tasty TV show; I was left with reruns and good memories for months on end, until the show resumes next season.

I enjoyed my reruns, and loved every drop of home-canned salsa, tomato sauce, and pickled beets. Now I'm ready for the new season. Who will star this year? The heirloom seeds special-ordered from Iowa and Pennsylvania? Or the old flower seeds gathered from my last garden in Berkeley before leaving in 1999 (and not planted until now)?

Will the raspberries remain sad, plain little sticks guarded by chicken wire or will they burst forth, grow tall and produce zillions of berries? Will the asapargus rise from the depths where it has been patiently waiting all winter? The tulips, the irisis and the day lilies are coming back - their green tips are bursting out of the ground even as we speak. Ooooh! What will happen? I can hardly wait!

Thus inspired, I went searching for a poem about spring. I stopped when I found this one. Nope, it's not about spring. But it has a dog, and great big snowflakes. And that, dear reader, is more than enough for me!

Snow, Aldo

by Kate DiCamillo.

Once, I was in New York,

in Central Park, and I saw

an old man in a black overcoat walking

a black dog. This was springtime

and the trees were still

bare and the sky was

gray and low and it began, suddenly,

to snow:

big fat flakes

that twirled and landed on the

black of the man's overcoat and

the black dog's fur. The dog

lifted his face and stared

up at the sky. The man looked

up, too. "Snow, Aldo," he said to the dog,

"snow." And he laughed.

The dog looked

at him and wagged his tail.

If I was in charge of making

snow globes, this is what I would put inside:

the old man in the black overcoat,

the black dog,

two friends with their faces turned up to the sky

as if they were receiving a blessing,

as if they were being blessed together

by something

as simple as snow

in March.