Electric Blankets, Furnaces and Other Warm Thoughts

Our furnace has made me so glad that we live in California. The wires got chewed by rodents and suddenly everything flickered and then cooled down to a rather brisk temperature. At first we thought maybe the kids were messing with the thermostat but we quickly realized that it was something bigger than that and our heat was caput. Its usually pretty warm here and the cool temp in the winter is usually kind of 60ish but its been in the 30's at night and the 50's during the day this week. This morning when I got up to make breakfast I could see my breath in the kitchen. I was laughing over the fact that I live in California and I was turning on the oven and standing there rubbing my hands over the opened door before I started breakfast. It feels so cold when your body has become used to 60-70 degrees all of the time.

 It does feel rather seasonal though! I have to say that I grew up pretty prepared for this. It makes me think of wood fires and power outages, stacking logs by the cookstove and getting into bed with our coats on when we came home from a trip away during the winter. There's something good about learning to be a little bit tough. Coffee and tea are amazing when its a frosty 40 something in your kitchen. Also, snuggling with your man never felt more alluring.

 A bought me a heating pad for Christmas, though I am embarrassed to admit that this California girl wanted one in the very worst way. It has been the most delicious treat to slip it into my spot under the quilt and turn it on as I do that last pick-ups around the house and brush my teeth. By the time I get into bed, its made my side of the bed into a glowing little oasis. I am now contemplating an electric blanket.

 My grandma had electric blankets, I think she really was the only person I knew who had them. I sometimes could use one when I slept overnight at her house. She would let me have one but I couldn't sleep with it on all night. We would go to sleep in side by side twin beds, the wind off of Lake Michigan making the gentle whoosing sound that it always does. I would lie under that electric blanket and we would make gentle conversation together before sleep: "What do you think we should do tomorrow?" or "What shall we have for breakfast?" It was always a little bit of a guessing game with Grandma, trying to think of something that would be special and make her feel inspired but nothing too demanding or rich feeling which she would never have been okay with. My grandma was a slightly imposing woman who wanted to be seen and elegant and illustrious but practical and frugal at the same time. I would float my ideas her way in the quiet room, both of us tucked in up to our chins, while the waves outside shushed rhythmically. She would mostly listen to me and then say. "Aha!" in response like she often did when I told her my plans or my thoughts. And then pretty soon she'd tell me that it was time to turn out the light and she'd remind me to turn off my electric blanket with a click, we'd goodnight each other and then I was lying there in the dark, wiggling my toes under the fading warmth and listening to the waves rock me to sleep.

February Floridian Dreams

We have sifted on into February, all the snow finally coming in poofy piles and heaps, our snow shovels dusted off and being all loved and hefted every day. We now have a little banks on either side of our driveway and this morning when I shoveled I was having a little trouble stacking more snow some places. Its kind of cozy to have so much white stuff outside and the boys sure have been logging sledding hours in the backyard.

My hens are hiding in the coop and sometimes making it out in the yard for a tiny peck and forage in the snow in the afternoon but mostly they are sitting indoors, fluffed up, snuggling together and doing little more than looking outside through the door for variety. I have to say that I can relate. Its the time of year for reading, circling things in seed catalogs and baking....but not much else. I went out this morning and shoveled until I had cleared the whole front walk and then part of the driveway and I felt all woozy and dizzy by lunchtime. My body is not used to vigorous exercise + multiple cups of coffee. Whew! Back to the books and the research and my paint brushes.....with maybe a few more detours for movement in between.

We were hoping to go to Arizona this year for a little mid-winter pep. Some of our friends from the homeschool world moved to the Pheonix area and a little desert visit sounded like just the thing in the dregs of winter. Unfortunately, I am not super adept at internet ticket price nabbing. I totally missed the amazing tickets that saw when I first shopped the idea out. So, the whole idea of a desert tour has gone by the wayside for this year. $399 per person was just a little out of our range. We did however manage to flex a little and snap up some seats heading to Florida in March for a week. We'll stay in some little out of the way corner and recharge, scavange shells, drive out to The Keys, see alligators and manatee and hopefully drop in on our numerous friends and family in The Sunshine State. Being flexible is good and being in Florida in sludgy March sounds great. I have been perusing Pinterest for great ideas for one or two key daytrips while we are there. So many pictures of sunshine, palm trees and surf have to be warming me somehow, right?

Now, I'm off to research "best way to weatherproof doors,"  "crockpot dinners" and other important things like, "what do meercats eat." Ah, internets....you are so good to us. We here at Homeschool Central and HomeStead United are forever in your debt. What would we do without you on a chilly winter day when bundling up in snowpants and damp knit gloves seems like way too much work?

Cold, Robots and Holiday Romoval

The winter cold has finally really found us. After a frozen pipe inventory (all bathroom sinks and toilets...) I pulled on extra layers to take the chickens their food scraps and also a new wad of straw for the next boxes and coop floor. Its amazing to me that the hens seem so fine in the cold but from what I've read they actually are in more danger during hot weather in the summer when we get into the 90 and 100 degree weather than they are from today's 9 degree chill. They might be fine running barefoot in the snow, but the girls still got warm water in their waterer and an extra handful of meal worms for a snack. The weather men tell us that there are days of super cold ahead of us so I'll be keeping a close eye on the hens, reading up on Pinterest recipes for breakfast porridge and turning our science walks into indoor reading time. Its still refreshing to go outside in weather that cold but it leaves you gasping and your hands burning after much less than a city block. Its reading weather.

Sometimes its nice to be the indoor pet.

I am slowly taking down Christmas. Today I am taking down the mini-tree on top of the bookcase and burning the branches that were on the mantle. I have put some of the special decorations from my grandparents collection on the mini tree. I like having them up out of the reach of little fingers but I love having them out and in sight of the whole family, being used and loved each year.

It has been grand to have them out but I'm really excited about putting Christmas away too. Tomorrow will be the day I attack the tree and haul it out to the curb! I'm intimidated and invigorated all at once at the prospect! All those pine needles! EEP!

The boys and I are painting a series of watercolor robots to hand on their bedroom walls. So much fun to be doing pen and ink outlines, non-realism, playful subjects and more cartoony lines. The boys are inspired and keep making new varieties of Lego robots. They are little figures, easy to slip into a coat pocket when running errands (even if Mommy does say to leave toys home) and just simple enough to teach to your little brother. Love finding them all over the house.

Bitter Pre-Spring

The wind is bitter today. I just went and got a sweatshirt out and am downing cups of tea end to end  to keep warm. Lockbox and I are spending lots of time huddled together, building mood boards for home decor to the tinkling accompaniment of Pandora. The boys keep holing up in their bedroom listening to endless stories on cd under fuzzy blanket tents strung from the bunk bed to the radiator. Indoor weather.

I didn't plant any peas for St. Patty's Day. It wasn't the year. And by the time I thought of it it was dark and I was in my pajamas standing at the kitchen sink, staring out past the porch light at the bitter, brown garden with a snug decaf latte in my hand. Somehow there wasn't a lot of appeal. The snowdrops and the witch hazel are going to have to suffice for now. We're thumbing through the garden books, holding on for warmer temps and planting more things in little mini-greenhouses made from old produce boxes and plotting what we'll do later when spring pops by again. (Because it will!)

Instead of Spring I am thinking to spend some time thinking about painting again. Maybe it is time to attack marketing again? Am  finding it hard to be motivated about these things. I believe lots of lies: "I am not able to handle numbers and promotion and other such technicalities. This will all be very boring. It is all too much work. I will die!!!!" Lies can't win though. Time to grease up my elbow and order some business cards and scope out some local art shows to join for the spring.

Also on the agenda: Curing Pom's eczema, which gets worse by the hour. I harvested some leaves from my houseplants this morning and made some diy aloe vera gel for ointment. Am also eliminating dairy in his diet and going to feeding him some evening primrose oil, fish oil and a little powdered probiotic. Zam! Eczema doesn't know who its messin' with. Mama means business! I'm sick of this scabby, rashy, painful, itchy mess. Poor little babe has enough goin' on with six teeth in his head already at the age of 10 months.

Hanging On To Plums

Image by pchgorman via Flickr

It is skunk cabbage season. And now that we don't live right next to a wetland I have to seek out my skunk cabbage experiences. It is the very first of the spring flowers...it beats out the crocus and the snowdrop and every daffodil in town, literally melting the snow and ice away with the sheer force of its will, making a hole in the chill and bringing blossoms to a snowbank. I will have to take a little expedition to find some soon.

I found some crocus the other day, without even trying! Look at that lawn! It is colder this spring than it was last year at this time (blogging helps you keep track of these things) so it hardly feels like time to look for blossoms. I am still immobilized half the morning by the chill and donning sweaters with impunity. But, there they were, a light frosting of lilac over the grass...all the same. Pardon the poor photograph, such faithful small friends were begging to have their photo included even if it wasn't as clear as one might have hoped.

I do hope that it warms up soon...I could go for a good 60 degree day with beams of sunshine. I am sort of sick of toasting my mitts on mugs of tea although it still seems like the way to survive. I hope we get some pools of sunshine on the sunroom floor sometime soon, the kind a sleek kitty would curl up in for the rest of the afternoon. You know....that is, if we had a sleep kitty.

And the sap is running! One virtue to the chill weather. I am sure the tree-tapping crowd is glad that it is staying cool enough to keep the run going. And I do like my supply of local syrup to be deep so I even benefit directly in a fringe sort of way. We saw sap buckets on the trees at the farms we visited yesterday  when we went on a milk/egg run on our naptime drive. Small signs of progress. Nice to see those.

And then there are the plums. This isn't terribly local but it makes me happy. Every year, these pointed tipped plums come tumbling in from Chile. They come in fire colors, predominately yellow but hints of gold and crimson and hot orange, especially emanating from the tip.  They ripen beautifully on the counter-top and unlike most any stone-fruit this time of year, they actually gush juice when bitten into. I discovered them a couple of years ago and look forward to late winter every year when I know they'll appear again in a small basket at my local Whole Foods. This year I found out that they are called lemon plums. So lovely to know the names of things you love. I'll take every little gift I can to tide me over. Drip on, sweet plums, drip on...you gotta get me through till April! (Note to self: Must go get some more this weekend...we're running low for some strange reason!)

Related articles

• A warm welcome in a cold climate (telegraph.co.uk)
• John Switzer commentary: Ecological center gets all sappy this time of year (dispatch.com)
• A plant dissolves ice!! (xeniagreekmuslimah.wordpress.com)
• Little Blooms of Hope (adnelg.wordpress.com)

Poetry Friday: Between The Seasons

Happy Poetry Friday!

This photo isn't sunrise (like I wrote about in today's poem) it's sunset but it is April and it captures the warm, glowing feel I'm missing in our current season. Am totally jumping the gun mentally at the moment and living one month hence. Spring, you can not come fast enough...I am so ready.

That said, today's poem comes out of a deep, little corner of my self that knows that all things exist for a reason and all bits of creation have purpose and beauty and innate use, even early March. This afternoon Ru said to me, with this sweet, open face: "Mommy? What are leaches good for?" And then there was a long mommy-pause. Leaches are one of the very few animals that I deeply detest. But I want him to appreciate and value all of creation, not just the glamorous members like the nautilus and the zebra. So, yeah...even the lowly leach has a purpose and a value, and it's good at something...something I have yet to discover. I told Ru we'll head right to Wikepedia when I get the chance and read about them to see what they are good at because I just didn't know. And I will force myself to pay attention to the beauty of the now, even if now is frigid March. What exactly is March good at?

A Missed Interlude

The light had a way of crescendo-ing
April daybreak so that she realized
The dismissed tinkle of last month's
Icicles had been a kind of prelude.



In the meantime, to help the chill weather time pass faster, we have company for the weekend! I will be writerly absent tomorrow and Sunday but will rejoin you all on Monday, tuned up with fresh ideas, inspiration, conversation and laughter. Concentrated time with friends is good for my blog, no two ways about it.

And now, I'm off to make up the guest bed! Hop yourself on over to The Small Noun, a first-time Poetry Friday host, to find other participants, posting their poetic thoughts today.

Poetry Friday: A Pruning Poem

Image via Wikipedia

Happy Poetry Friday to you! A pruning poem for you all today. It is pruning season, or at least the tale end thereof. (We must celebrate something in the bleak end of winter after all)  Time for all overgrown trees to get haircuts and all shrubs to get trim jobs that will have them prancing around in high-style once the warm weather has them leafing and blossoming all over the place.

I have been working, little by little on pruning our very large and very neglected apple tree and hoping on one hand that spring comes soon to rescue me but on the other hand that it holds off long enough to let me finish all the snipping and clipping this old tree needs. If a tree is clipped once the sap has really begun to flow hard it can "bleed out" and pour sap from all its wounds and end up dying in the warming, early spring. As I work, racing spring I have been thinking out a poem about the whole thing. This morning I took a little stab at putting down the bits that have been rattling around in my mind as I traded clippers for saw and then saw again for clippers in the chill wind.

Pruning The Apple Tree
I am pruning the dear, ancient apple tree
That leans, reclining over the back hedge
Behind our new home: a tall, old colonial.
It might turn out to bear nothing at all but
Small, hard crab apples like bitter marbles
(For some reason the neighbor can't remember)
Then, I know, my husband will see no point
And archly suggest a chainsaw at the trunk.
I finger all the thickly twisted branchings
And tilt my head as I envision each of the
Diagnostic choices: this branch or that gone.
My glittering saw makes fragrant, smooth
Work of the chosen amputation and the wound
Yawns open, fresh and yellow in the cold.
I am glad the ice-wind is blowing stiffly,
From the north, the better to anesthetize
The patient who sits numbly through my surgery.   
I see signs of other years here on the boughs:
Roughly hacked, black stubs of once-limbs,
Places where the tree has grown a living mace
And one limb that has gone thickly into
The very flesh of its widely forked neighbor
I drop branch bits on the snow and wonder as I
Climb a broad trunk, my palms splayed open,
Against the icy bark if the tree will
Shake its head pinkly, rouse as fragrant cloud
And bear me saving fruit for pies or if it
Sleeps deeply, sunk into a peaceful reverie
Tiny, unborn marble-fruit held tight in every bud,
Knowing this is the last cold, drowsy winter
It will arch sagely over my back hedge.

Image via Wikipedia

I really do hope it turns out to be a grand, old standard apple of some kind, don't you? Even if it is a crab, I have half a mind to try to convince A to save it just so I can make glittering apple jelly every year. I do hate to lose a wise old tree like this. I wonder who planted it and when. Guessing the age of trees is a very tricky game although even I can tell ours is quite old. I'd have taken a picture for you but it's doing a cold drizzle outside and there's no real love for a camera in that kind of weather.

You can find more Poetry Friday entries at our host Sara's blog, Read Write Believe.

Winter Sowing My Little Heart Out!

Image by nociveglia via Flickr

Winter Sowing is a genius way to plant things. I mentioned earlier that I had made a silly gaffe and left my giant box of seeds out in the un-heated, un-attached garage for the winter. Heh. For most of my seeds this means a certain doom but, there are some that can handle the cold, usually flower seeds and of those, usually the ones that are native to cold or and/or mountainous regions. These seeds can not only handle being left out in cold winter weather, they actually tend to sprout well and grow in these conditions...with a little help.

I first learned about Winter Sowing on Garden Web...one of my favorite places online. (If you're interested, even sort of, in growing things...any kind of things, Garden Web is a wealth of comradarie and information.) So, that I don't have to belabor you with an explanation, suffice it to say that Winter Sowing is a way to start seeds, fuss-free, in little mini-greenhouses made of recyclables, right in the dead of winter when there's snow and ice and little else outdoors.You can find out what to Winter Sow and when, here. And here's another blogger or two who are walking through the steps and a great article on the method to boot! I love Winter Sowing because I'm the type of gardener who stresses seedlings out by forgetting to water and God does a much, much better job at keeping them consistently moist. Starting seedlings in homemade terrariums is painless.

I just hauled my box out of the garage and spread everything out in a massive swirl of seed packets and scribbled-upon envelopes and started working through it all. Eventually I arrived at a decent amount of things that qualify for Winter Sowing. I raided my recycling bin for what had around to use (anything with a lid will work, even bottles and jugs).

Then, on to the dumping in of potting soil, the splashing and sprinkling with water, the inevitable leaking onto the floor, and small fingers covered with mud and then it was planting time.

And that is how it was that I came to have a small, misty looking pile of various plastic containers, in my back yard. The greenhouse effect makes them condense and bead droplets of steamy water all over the insides of their lids once they are out sitting in a snowbank. I didn't plant all of what could be salvaged, not nearly, but there will be more plastic containers and slowly the flock will grow...and someday soon we will have little sprouts of green to greet us and slowly grow tantalizingly taller by our back door.

Man! I have got to get that apple tree in the yard pruned or else! Heavens how the winter has flown!

Adventures In Zero Oil

We have been running, running, running....wildly, panickedly...our lists fluttering from our back pockets while we stamp out fires and buzz in a labyrinth of manic circles. And then sometime this weekend we remembered to check our oil tank and ordered another round for delivery on Monday morning and then wondered aloud to each other, "Just exactly how serious is that ominous 0 where the needle is hovering?"

Heh. Heh. Heh. And again I say, heh.

Late last night, after dinner was over and the washing up in full swing we began to notice it was oddly chill in the house suddenly. And by the time we were ready for bed we were huddled in blankets in the living room, crammed as tightly together as possible for body heat and I had drunk two full mugs of tea, not bothering with the sugar or cream but just gulping quickly.

We set the space heater up in the boy's room, put an extra layer on the baby, unrolled another quilt for our bed and tucked in. And I swear that there was starting to be frost hovering in the air over our pillows as we switched out the light.

When you wake up in the morning and there is no heat in your house and it is January and you're having a cold snap with a foot of snow on the ground...you have to find a warm place so that the kids can flow from pajamas to clothing to breakfast in relative calm. I lit a fire in the fireplace, dressed kids in front of the bedroom space heater (sweaters, jeans, t-shirts, turtlenecks, sweatshirts, hats etc.) and then plopped the big boys in front of the crackly blaze with blankets while I strapped the baby to my back in a carrier and whipped up breakfast and another mug of tea.

Later as we all ate our breakfast together and we watched the coals settling and snapping as the logs burnt away I thought of my mother as a new bride, watching her dishes shatter from freezing suddenly in her new house without a furnace, or proper doors and walls, just an inefficient woodstove and a lot of hope. Made our pink fingertips and noses seem  quite bear-able. I like to think I would have made a good pioneer woman but truly, I am so kidding myself. I'm soft. I am so glad that the oil man came this afternoon and that right now,  the radiator next to me is kicking it out for all it's worth. I really like automatic heat.