We picked 6 quarts of strawberries on the Summer Solstice, as you may recall.  2 for eating (and pancakes), 2 for wine, and 2 for strawberry rhubarb jam. 

I got the wine going right away that day and it has been wildly fermenting ever since!  Yep, needed a blowoff tube again with this batch.  Never a dull moment around here!

So here's the recipe for preserving the flavor of the Summer Solstice, that'll be ready just in time for the Winter Solstice... when we can ALL use a little more sunshine (or at least a reminder of it).

Mash the sugar into the berries, then add 2 quarts of water.  Let the mixture stand covered with a kitchen towel for 24 hours. 

Stir mixture and then strain the liquid into a 2 gallon carboy (I actually put mine in a 3 liter carboy... and had to discard some of the liquid to make it fit). 

In a mason jar, make a yeast starter culture by combining the wine yeast, yeast nutrient, and orange juice.  Cover, shake vigorously, and let stand for about an hour until it gets bubbly; then add to the must.

Add the lemon juice and tea stir with a skewer or chopstick, and airlock the fermentation vessel.  Allow the mixture to ferment to completion.



When it has finished fermenting (no more bubbles are coming out of the airlock), bottle, cork, and cellar the wine.

Wait at least 6 months before sampling.

We have pancake day about once a week around here and tried out this variation with our freshly-picked strawberries.  They're amazing!

Measure out 1/2 cup sized cakes and cook in/on a skillet (the one pictured happens to be electric, and we LOVE it). 

Flip, serve, and enjoy!   These are delicious with just a little butter on them, but my kids loaded them up with syrup as well :-)

My youngest daughter is currently potty training, AND has switched into a big girl bed... in the last week and a half.   She woke me up at 5:00am this morning.  The sun was up, the birds were singing and she was excited!

I decided to take a meditative "weed walk" this morning at 6:00am.  Yesterday, I had brought my daughter to the swimming hole, and had seen a lot of weeds.  Most notably, to me, was a huge abundance of stinging nettle...




As a child, I grew up on the same creek that I bring my girls to on our hikes.  One time, when the neighborhood boys and I went down there to look for newts, we got into a patch of stinging nettles.  Our legs were on FIRE for the rest of he afternoon.  We spent the next several hours pool-hopping, hoping that the cool water and the chlorine would somehow help ease the sting... it didn't.


Many years later, I read about the health benefits of making teas and infusions out of dried stinging nettle. I used to buy it in bulk, prepared... so I didn't have to deal with the sting.

And now, there it was on my path... inches away from my toddler's legs...

What a beautiful opportunity.  I decided to take this day, the Summer Solstice, the lightest day of the year, to shine some light on my fears and negative thoughts through walking meditation... and I took a bag, gloves, and rubber boots with me to act out this light shining exercise by harvesting and becoming allied with stinging nettle.  I made a potato nettle soup, started a nettle beer, and hung up 10 bunches of nettle to dry for tea and infusions.

I sorted, washed, weighed and deligated nettle to 3 purposes.


2 of these containers full were used to make Nettle Beer.


This bowlful was used to make a potato-nettle soup


And these bunches are hanging up to dry.


And if that wasn't enough to keep me busy, we also went strawberry picking!




We got 6 quarts, and one last small harvest of rhubarb.  I'll be putting together a strawberry wine, strawberry rhubarb jam, and a fresh strawberry cake in the next few days. This week should be fun!

For as long as I can remember, I've been enchanted by everything Victorian (and Renaissance, and Medieval, and... old).  I have seen plenty of recipes calling for rosewater for both bath and body and for baking. When the wild roses bloomed this year is huge CRAZY amounts in the backyard, I couldn't help myself.  Making my own rosewater was so easy to do and a really fun project.  I can't wait to try it out in some recipes which I plan to share on here as I go.  The Rosewater from this particular recipe is supposed to keep for up to 1 month in the refridgerator.

This has become a fast favorite in my family and it is modified from a recipe for apple cake that we got from a multi-generational farm family who live upstate.

A perfect dessert on a warm Spring evening.

You're as old as the sugarmaples that surround you and your layout doesn't make sense.

Visitors are greeted into an overflowing laundry and mudroom connecting straight into the tiny, dated, eat-in kitchen.  Clunky,  energy-sucking appliances, and a fuel-oil heating system that currently doesn't work.

 We were forced into biomass heating (pellet stove) 2 years ago because it was the only option we could afford.  Not because we couldn't afford to have gas run to you and a new furnace put in, but because your walls have no insulation "entirely clapboard, like a barn" they said when  they came to "seal up" the energy leaks in the house that first year we were in here. Originally, you were a 2 room farmhand house, with no running water or electricity.  There were fireplaces in the basement and the main living quarters which were kept roaring all winter long... you didn't need insulation.

You have 1.5 bathrooms, neither of which have ventilation.  One used to be a closet space in the attic, and the other a hallway between the 2 main living areas.  A baseboard heater runs almost smack through the middle of the floorspace of the "hallway" bathroom... making it nearly impossible to move with more than one person in the room. We cram all 4 of us in there every night for bathtime.

Your roof is sagging in places, your yard is mostly moss and weeds, no vegetable crop grows easily in the rubble and backfill that composes your yard. Your barns and out buildings were plowed under to make room for the encroaching track neighborhood surrounding you...

You have Tony's gravestone in your backyard.  "Tony 1933-1936"...  I have no doubt that it's real.

You only really have 2 bedrooms... and half of the space downstairs serves as a 3rd.

Your basement has rough hewn logs holding up the rest of the house and a dirt floor.  It's always 55 degrees and the cold leaks up through the slatted old wooden floorboards both in the summer, and winter.

None of your walls are straight and somehow that makes me feel a little bit more easy...

And you are lived in and have been continuously for the last 150 years. You've been decorated and climbed upon, and scratched and barked at, and cried and screamed and laughed in.  Your kitchen smells like my Grandma's used to, and your basement is an honest to god wine and root cellar.  Your kitchen counters are made for canning and for standing around. Our table just doesn't fit... eventhough there's no other possible place to put it.  So we're all just here, together.

Your old floor boards are the color "vermont maple" and they're worn and uneven and rich and alive under bare feet. Stained glass and window boxes make sense. 

And you inspire greatness.  "this little place could be a jewel".  You make me want to repair and replace and be historically correct about it... So that I can put a little 1860 plaque above your front door and get you on the town register of historical buildings.  You make me want to insulate and side you so that everything matches and is neat as a pin.  You make me want to get a custom made copper claw bathtub, and one of those toilets with a pull chain and wall-mounted tank...  and to plant 1860's appropriate flowers all over the yard and to grow a market garden...
But we aren't carpenters or plumbers or general contractors, and we're living on 1 income and have limited time and energy to dedicate...
We're a growing family and we know how the majority of the people around us live.  We're more often than not in eachother's way and sometimes curse your poor layout.  We even went so far as to ask our real estate agent how to get the house ready to sell...

We were told we our "inspired" plans surely wouldn't pay off and that we wouldn't recoup the cost.

... but you could be a little jewel... and you inspire me to make rosewater, and wild grape jelly, and blackcap wine...  and to wildcraft, and to be outside, and to be crammed together in one room with family and friends...
And in the summer the scent of peony and lilac drift through your windows beaconing "come and see what's new, come and see what you can do..."

Well, I made a pie.  If there's one thing about me and my cooking that you should know is that I really, REALLY don't like pie crusts and I don't ever make pies.  I make crisps, and crumbles and cakes and quickbreads and muffins... but I do not like making pies.

But, come on, I HAD to.  Who doesn't make pie out of rhubarb? I caved and I did what (probably most) people do when they make a "homemade pie"...I bought the crust at the store!  Yep, I cheated.  Check this out:  Dairy free, corn free, and they even have a gluten-free version.  I have to say I'm in full support of Wholly Wholesome pie shells.  

And so, while my shells thawed, I put together the filling.