Spring Warren's Blog, page 2

When a tree falls, when the bugs chew, when I’m feeling sad…I head to Cafe Americain!

Event Link

 

Does this not look like the kind of place you could go and forget the fact that the tree in your backyard just blew over leaving you with not only a broken tree but a BIG bill, a ruined Frost Peach sapling, and a lot of work to do (will blog about this later)? A place where the delicious food could allow you to overlook that you’ve failed to pay attention and those damn cabbage worms decimated your broccoli (will blog about this later)?

Of course it does. I’m heading there on Thursday to speak and then to eat at the lovely Cafe Americain’s Harvest Festival.

Check out the link above, and come join the fun. I promise not to complain about my tree – too much.

When a tree falls, when the bugs chew, when I'm feeling sad…I head to Cafe Americain!

Event Link

 

Does this not look like the kind of place you could go and forget the fact that the tree in your backyard just blew over leaving you with not only a broken tree but a BIG bill, a ruined Frost Peach sapling, and a lot of work to do (will blog about this later)? A place where the delicious food could allow you to overlook that you've failed to pay attention and those damn cabbage worms decimated your broccoli (will blog about this later)?

Of course it does. I'm heading there on Thursday to speak and then to eat at the lovely Cafe Americain's Harvest Festival.

Check out the link above, and come join the fun. I promise not to complain about my tree – too much.

Was I a chicken?

I chickened out. Pulled out of the land purchase – too many problems! Sadly, though. And so I licked my wounds and had a talk with Kalliopi, our lead hen.

Being a chicken is a good thing, she proudly feels. Being a chicken is acknowledging there are many things that can eat one up. Coyotes, hawks, dogs, and even mounting problems with wells and septic, and the voracious maw of debt.

Chickens know their limits. They do what they can to do what they can – and out of table scraps, bugs, and some dried corn they create the most perfect eggs, lovely tilled earth, and fertilizer right there in their little pen.

I would do well to emulate, feel great to have flapped clear of a disaster. Now it is time to till my little Quarter Acre Farm (which I have grievously ignored these past weeks) doing what I can with what I can.

Damn, that chicken is smart.

Water water everywhere, but not a drop in my sink.

It isn't looking good folks. Inspections today and lots of phrases like, "What the- I have never seen anything like that in the 20 years I've been servicing wells, maybe once something like it…" and lots of numbers like $20,000 and $10,000 in reference to wells, pumps, septic tanks, being bandied around (by professionals), lots of head scratching (by all present) and check writing (me).

I did enjoy myself on the inspection day in spite of all the gloomy prognosis. Louis was there, our wonderful realtor Vicki, my pal Lisa so the company was good, and I followed the inspection guys around asking questions – which I always love doing. (Why does that need a double pipe? How come there are wires coming out there? What does that thing do?)

But by the end of the day I felt demoralized by the river of water swirling somewhere below my feet that was going to cost a motherlode to bring to the surface, and without which the land was useless to me.  Sniff.

It isn't over yet, we are still looking for answers, but…it isn't looking good, folks.

WELLS, PUMPS, PROCESS

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It is sooo difficult to get a Civil Engineer's education in the space of a week.  There are all these decisions I might need to make – like: Submersible pumps or above ground?  Two wire or three?  How many HP?  Can I get a used pump?  and the huge looming question, "How much can I pay for well service, how much will they ask for it, and what's a fair price?"    Anybody know anything about wells/pumps/process?

Destination; Farm!

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Isn't it beautiful? I know, not a soul on the planet thinks so but me. And sure, I do know that the stucco is cracked, it's retirement age to you and me, and it looks every year of its hard life, there are shingles missing, no pump, no tank, and a mystery septic system, plus a faulty foundation, drainage issues, and yellow jackets in the walls…(that I know because I disturbed them and was stung by one of the privacy-loving creatures)…and yet, I love it.

Partially because I love the idea of taking "nothing" and finding the "something" in it, perhaps molding it into something- like clay into a bowl. Partially because it has an acre of dirt around it. No trees, no lovely bushes, no flowers, no crops, just nothing (see explanation of the beauty of nothing above). And also because it might be mine. MY project. I might just fix that stucco, I might just plant fruit trees, I might not…it's up to ME.

Not that my guys aren't being supportive – but supportive in the best way; available but letting me plow ahead…after all, they have big things going on in their lives, too.  College, travel, books, art…we're all in some stage of, embarking, I'd say.

I hope I am, anyway.  I am getting ahead of myself. There is no pump so I don't know what the water situation is. I don't even know much about pumps and pressure tanks – though I'm figuring out what vertical turbines, lifts, bladder tanks, and pressure switches are. I've been reading more about septic tanks than most people I know would be interested in, and finding it fascinating (by the way, DONT pour that grease down your kitchen sink!).

It could all go wrong, the land might be more expensive to buy it and fix it up than can be managed…We'll know sometime this week. Keep your fingers crossed, and chuck that cute little dilapidated bungalow under it's chin – you KNOW you want to, it's so awful, it's darling!

 

 

CHOWHOUND video

This was a great afternoon. I love finding out how things work – mechanically, socially, procedurally, and I was fortunate enough to be invited by Chowhound (I KNOW, it is such a GREAT site!) to film a few video tips.

Now I know what an A roll and a B roll are (not sushi) and that everyone who works at Chowhound is charismatic, brilliant, gorgeous, and nice on top of it all. I'd like to work there just to have some of that glitter rub off on me.

In any case, I'll let you know the availability date for the videos. You are all to watch them and tell me I was wonderful. Actually, you don't even need to watch them as the point is to just tell me I was wonderful. Maybe the point is to tell me I wasn't AWFUL. Go ahead and lie to whatever degree you see fit. I appreciate it.

Praying Mantis

Isn't she lovely?

 

 

I mean, really.

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SUN DRIED TOMATOES!

The tomatoes just keep coming, don't they? This is a good thing, I keep telling myself, trying to vault my perception to those cold and unforgivingly tomatoless seasons that are just around the solar corner. I will wish for these tomatoes come January, I sternly lecture.

And so I dehydrate.

My favorite tomatoes to dehydrate are one of my favorite tomatoes for all uses – the lovely, prolific Juliette tomatoes. The trouble is they are only about an inch to two inches long. They fit on my racks okay when they are plump and fresh, but partway through the dehydrating process they shrivel up and fall through the racks to the floor of the dehydrator which is a pain in the least, and if I didn't scrub that bottom level, which, unfortunately, sounds just like me, makes me less than happy to think of my pristine tomatoes wallowing in the last vegetables that I dehydrated detritus. So – what to do?

Well, if you can butterfly a chicken (which I don't anymore, being vegetarian) you can butterfly a tomato. I just cut the tomatoes in half….aaaaaaalmost in half, actually, leaving enough skin intact that I can wedge the fruit open and place it on the rack.

When they dry, they are still big enough to stay put.

Mmmm, bags and bags of lovely tomatoes, ready to remind me, even in the chill hell of February, that there was a summer, and it will come again.

GREEN CHILE!

I've got a lot of chiles right now…the trouble is they don't have really thick skins, so when I roast them, the skins don't just slip off.

They did seem to have enough skin, however, I worried it might be a detraction in my favorite vegetarian green chile stew. So after roasting the chiles, I pureed them in the same way I puree my tomato sauce.

Voila – chile sauce. Oh, it is good. Not only will I freeze it to use with stew, but I used the puree to make a lovely, spicy, coooool, gazpacho with great success. Perfect for these Northern Californian 90 degree days.