Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving sees us at my sister's in Laramie again. She has a handsome flock of four hens and two ducks. Sally and Spencer were very happy to feed them and both remembered with fondness our own hens in Leigh.

The Homeowners' Association where we now live prohibits poultry - heaven alone knows why - There is a level of gentrification to which they aspire I imagine. As I am on the HOA committee, perhaps I can persuade them of the error of their thinking. (This would probably work better if I kept my plot in immaculate condition - I don't.)

In any event, the birds were unaware that, as they were being fed here, a cousin was being readied to feed us for our Thanksgiving feast. How callous, but very tasty it was.

Autumn in the Rockies

This is Spencer walking home from school earlier this week.

One day it was 80 degrees, the next we had 8 inches of snow.

Today it was 17 degrees when we woke up. Of course, this is not all that unsual. It’s not an annual occurrence, but it happens often enough for everyone to have their own story about 19sometime or other when….. The most heartbreaking thing is that this sort of snow, falling before the leaves have had a chance to, weighs so heavily on the branches of trees that they break. A neighbour had the most beautiful young oak tree. It was a perfect shape, and was only just beginning to turn from green to the brightest red imaginable. At least three of the main branches have split from the trunk.

October brings the annual round of cider making. This year was perfect autumnal activity, but had to be split into two weekends, as, after a few hours on the first Saturday, the motor for the press broke. My clever and capable brothers sorted it out, and we proceeded the following Saturday with a total pressing of some 230 gallons.

The cider press

The Barn with the washing tumbler and apple masher on the right.

Fort Collins hosts something called ‘The Sustainable Living Fair’ every year. I have taken it upon myself to volunteer at the fair, which enables me to spend half a day working amongst like-minded people, and the rest of the day wandering around the fair (and has nothing to do with the fact thats they provide volunteers with lunch and a draft [Colorado sports an admirable number of small independent brewers]). To be honest, the majority of the stuff is greenwashed consumerism, but there are bits and pieces that are worthwhile. I was working in the “Eat Local” tent, where one talk was about hunting. Not quite up my street, but to be fair, what more honest way to obtain sustainable and wholesome meat? A second talk was by the local chapter of the Weston A Price Foundation. Now I’ve known about the Weston A Price Foundation since Sally was small, and have a great deal of time for them. I had no idea they had local chapters, however, and was delighted to discover this one. I’m a fully paid member now and this will probably lead me further down my path of obsessive quality food procurement.

To that end, I have finally organized the purchase of a cow share, so that I can buy raw milk – that being the only way to do so in Colorado – each state has it’s own laws about whether or not and how citizens may buy and consume this dangerous substance.

What is most peculiar is that this milk does not sour quickly. When I drank raw milk obtained from Bore Place, it would sour after three or four days. Here, for some reason, the milk is fresh and drinkable for up to ten days. What could be the difference? Bacteria in the air? Altitude? Aridity? It bewilders me as much as the fact that I have difficulty in getting my clothes clean here, despite the fact that the water is so much softer. Spilled tea on my shirt: something I never thought twice about in Leigh, must be stain-treated prior to laundering, and even then it may not come clean.

Halloween is almost upon us, and I have some serious concerns about my son. He was asking me the other day whether he had to go Trick-or-Treating. I suspect the query had something to do with my refusal to buy him a $50 costume.

Another Summer Comes to a Close

Summer ends and I am remiss about posting here. Was supposed to have written about our journey to Santa Fe in early June. Sally spent a week there with my sister (she of the straw bale house) and Andrew, Spencer, my brother, Jim, and I drove down to spend a weekend and bring her home again. Here is Spencer in Santa Fe Market.

Last week she began classes at Front Range Community College, which is just 11 miles up the road from us. She chose to go this route for two reasons: 1. She hasn’t yet decided what she would like to study, but wants to carry on with higher education. She can undertake general studies here which she will be able to apply to whatever degree course she ultimately chooses, and 2. Community College tuition is easily half of standard university tuition, and Colorado universities guarantee to accept with full credit, the courses taken at Colorado community colleges. Moreover, those courses tend to be smaller and more individualized than Uni courses. It’s really a no-brainer.

She got a job at McDonald’s in late June, but it has been most unsatisfactory from day one, when she turned up for her orientation along with five others and waited for 45 minutes before being told the orientation was cancelled, to the five week delay in providing her with her first paycheck. which she received only last week.

I have been working nearly every day including Sundays for some six weeks. A colleague passed away quite suddenly, and I have been working several of her shifts. In addition, the library is undertaking a project and we all have the opportunity to pick up some extra hours.

I had my bike retrofitted with a motor so that I could ride to work. The library is just under four miles away, so within easy distance, but there is this major hill on the way home. Of course it is on the way to work as well, but obviously one way is down which is no problem, and the other way….. Anyway, I employ the motor for just one minute up this hill each day. One still pedals, but it feels no more onerous than pedaling on a flat surface. It’s terrific. The only downside being the weight of the batteries; they must weigh 40lbs, making the bike seriously heavy.

Graduation

One down and one to go - although it will be some eight years before Spencer holds his own diploma. He is goo-gooing around here with his sister's mortarboard.

And here she is before the ceremony. If we hadn't booked and paid for the gown several months ago, I'm sure she wouldn't have bothered attending the ceremony. Something I knew, having done this too long ago to remember, is that all American graduation ceremonies are accompanied by Elgar: Pomp and Circumstance/Land of Hope and Glory. Sally was astonished when she heard it at the rehearsal. "That's English! What are they playing that for?" Yet it has been used for American graduations since 1905 - just three years after it was written. Another thing the two countries have in common and most probably don't know about.

Parents were given a bossy little list of things they were and weren't allowed to do. One wasn't allowed to take photos in the stadium - that was the preserve of a professional, who would then charge big bucks for prints. One also wasn't supposed to use air horns (a more modern form of the vuvuzela), sparklers or other fireworks. One parent decided that party poppers would be just the ticket, and pulled a few of them when their darling collected his or her diploma. This foolhardy act set off the fire alarm and the ceremony was duly interrupted so that we could all evacuate until the serious breach was investigated. What a world we live in. It'll make for a mildly amusing anecdote in years to come I suppose.

So the children are out of school, the neighbourhood pool is open, and we have three months of summer holidays to look forward to. More of which later.

Happy Easter

I regularly get e-mails from American contacts lamenting the loss of respect for the Christian values and traditions upon which this country was built (much like England then...), but where are these people when it comes to Easter? This country is business as usual this time of year. No acknowledgement of Good Friday - school as usual for the children - nor of Easter Monday. Sunday, most people are off anyway, and if you want to go shopping, try to spend plenty of money - it's good for the economy! Shameful.

For some years I have decorated an egg or two to add to my collection of eggs to hang on some branches brought inside. Last year my cats knocked the whole thing over, and I haven't had the heart to set it up this year, although I made the effort to buy some white eggs (most of the market in eggs here is white - I never saw a brown egg growing up - but, now, most organic eggs are brown.) for a lemon curd dessert just so that I could blow and decorate the eggs. I did so beautifully yesterday, only to knock the hollow shells (all but one) onto the floor during a careless moment making dinner last night. No better than my cats.

I made hot cross buns Friday, and, having found some marzipan that didn't cost the earth at the funny grocery store mentioned in yesterday's post, had planned to make a simnel cake, but that hasn't risen to the top of the list yet, perhaps an Easter Monday activity? There will be a family dinner at a brother's house this afternoon, but this won't be without drama, as he has omitted to invite one member of the family over a petty disagreement - which he and his wife obviously don't feel is petty at all. Families - who'd have'em?

April Snows!

I woke up this morning (23 April for crying out loud) to this unwelcome sight, and the wrenching realization that I’d left my fuchsia and euphorbia outside last night. Fortunately, they have both survived and will recover the cold damage suffered. The snow had melted by 10am, and so we must think of it as nothing more than sorely needed precipitation. I prefer rain.

I’ve just been listening to a podcast of The Food Programme which always serves to add to my ambivalence about the food differences between the USA and UK.

On the one hand, I have been buying organic apples and pears for $1/lb or less since January. I have also discovered a local ‘re-store’ that stocks food that is minutes away from its sell-by date at significantly reduced prices. You never know what you will find on the shelves, but can be assured that you will find new and interesting products that you wouldn’t ordinarily buy, but they are inexpensive enough that you are happy to give it a try.

Who knows where they get this stuff (actually a brief conversation with the owner confirms that there are international brokers for this kind of food – who knew?). In any event, last week saw Lyon’s digestive biscuits – both chocolate and normal – on the shelves at .99c and $1.29 respectively, and now I have something like 20 packets of each stored in my garage. Digestive biscuits are not something we even miss that much, but it’s nice to have access to them for just a taste of home. We also found some thin rice cakes – something we miss enormously, but hadn’t otherwise been able to find, which led to an internet search of the brand and a purchase of a case from Amazon no less.

On the other hand I wanted to buy some crème fraiche yesterday only to discover that it is stocked only in the deli section for a mere $7 for 4oz!!!!. (I bought some cream and buttermilk to make my own - 8 oz for $3) Cream is not an item commonly bought in the USA. The only cream available is ‘heavy whipping cream’. No single or double. It is always ‘ultra-pasteurized’ – even the organic varieties. Sigh. Americans are so very happy to lie down and accept whatever big business sells them. This is not to say that Farmers Markets don’t exist, nor that you can’t find small producers who do produce quality food, just that they are harder to find, and that their prices are more like I use to pay in the UK, and when you convert that UK price to dollars, the number seems horrific.

The UK consumer seems to have more influence than their American counter-part. It might be because they are better informed – who knows? I do know that if I ever start spouting off about GMO foods here, people’s eyes glaze over, and they look bewildered that I should be concerned

Too busy to say much

Oughtn’t let another month go by without some signs of life. I wish I saw more of them outside. These interminable (albeit sunny) winters are on my Sad To be Here list. Having said that, I went out to pick the first shoots of parsley (from last year’s plants) yesterday to put in a salad, and to my great delight, spied the first shoots of my tarragon. It is meant to be hardy, but you never know around here. Neither the rosemary or the sage are showing any signs of life. Nor do any trees, despite the official start of spring 10 days ago.

Odd Daffodils started blooming last week. They are funny creatures, their stems rarely exceeding six or seven inches, and whenever I see a clump, I imagine they are miniatures, because they are so short.

I have managed to procure a job at the Loveland Library. Part-time, minimum wage, no benefits. Woo Hoo! It is what I had been working for (having volunteered there since last May), but it is severely depressing to think that, at the age of 54, I am working for minimum wage. I did the same job 33 years ago for my university work-study award (a guaranteed job at university to help students pay for their tuition and fees), and was paid better than minimum wage then. Sigh. The good news is that the people are lovely, and it’s a pleasure to go to work.

We have added two zebra finches to our household. My sister has a number of finches, and some of them are breeding. She gave a pair of her offspring to Sally. These are only 3 months old now, and already I have removed six eggs from their nest. (removed because I’m advised that they are not ready to breed before they are a year old) You can imagine what fun the cats are having.