Yesterday DH and the girls led a small expedition up the mountain to cut Christmas trees. The farm used to be a Frazer fir Christmas tree farm years ago, and there are still a good number of trees up here, though they’ve all gone feral—-untrimmed, hemmed in with briars, eaten on by goats and cows. But there are still plenty of pretty ones, especially if you top a tall one—it just makes for a wilder looking tree. So we have three in the backyard to choose from, and then the other two will go to a couple of neighbors who can’t really get out to get their own.

ED has been sick—there is some weird bug going around that involves throwing up and cold symptoms. She has a wicked cough, and I thought that was what was making her throw up, because that’s actually pretty standard for her—-to cough til she vomits—-but the timing isn’t really lining up. Who knows? Bernard has had it, too, but she only threw up once (and immediately turned to me and said,”I am so hungry—can I have something to eat?”).

C* is coming up today to buy a chicken to eat. She is going to kill and clean it herself, so this should be interesting! I’m impressed by people who are willing to do that—seems like if you’re going to eat meat, you need to at least be able to face the facts about where it comes from.

I drove into work this morning accompanied by a setting full moon swathed in cloud-webs in the west and a vivid streaky red sky in the east. It was breathtaking.

Thanksgiving was great—tons of relatives, and obscene quantities of food. DH brought home the turkey carcass and made a pot of delicious soup last night, which was a treat to get home to after work.

It has been determined that ED is taller than me now. I have lost my status as the second-tallest member of the family. So now I guess I’m the third tallest.

What a rainy day! It’s so dark! I could be getting a serious case of the blues, if I’m not careful; fortunately the D*’s are coming up for chili this evening—-maybe company will save me. Actually, what I really want to do is get online and spend lots of money. Which, unfortunately, I don’t have. Nor do I have a credit card, so there goes the possibility of cure-by-consumerism. Damn.

Bernard is frantically trying to finish knitting her scarf that she started last winter (like mother, like daughter…)—she wants to wear it to Thanksgiving dinner at my dad’s tomorrow. She’s knitting it out of a bulky wool/mohair blend in a kind of periwinkle blue. And doing a very good job of it.

I have dough rising for challah and I’m getting ready to make a double batch of gingerbread and lemon curd to go with it. Also, before tomorrow I’ll put together a salad and mustard vinaigrette, and I actually got it together to make a batch of chevre, to which I’ll add garlic and herbs. Then I’ll mold it with flowers and herbs on top, and we can eat that with the bread, or with crackers.

Bernard has taken a break from knitting and is in the tub, yelling for me to come help with her hair—-guess I’d better go!

11/22/2004: The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), led by Bush appointees, is seeking input on a new proposed study in which infants in participating low income families will be monitored for health impacts as they undergo exposure to known toxic chemicals over the course of two years. The study entitled Children’s Environmental Exposure Research Study (CHEERS) will look at how chemicals can be ingested, inhaled or absorbed by children ranging from babies to 3 years old.

For taking part in these studies, each family will receive $970, a free video camera, a T-shirt, and a framed certificate of appreciation.

Read full article and sign petition here.

A dark and rainy November morning….

I managed to finally plant some bulbs yesterday: hyacinths in pots to force for February bloom; crocuses here and there in all the beds; the first pot of paperwhites of the season. They’re all out getting a good soaking right now.

I found, buried in the tall grass above the rock garden, a flat of alpine strawberries that I started from seed this past spring. They look hale and hearty, so I transplanted a bunch of those around in the perennial beds, too. Oh, and I dug up some miniature jonquils that have been too thick to bloom, and spread them out over the garden. Very satisfying.

Ron, the landlord, called last night. Cagily, he refused to say on the phone what he wanted to do about the rent, saying instead he’d send us a little something in the mail. This should be interesting—-he’s never sent us anything in the mail before.

We’ve lived here for five years, and this is the first time we’ve seen the huge maple in the front yard actually turn a color. It’s a silver maple, and in years past the leaves have just dried up and fallen off; right now, though, it’s a lovely clear gold, and there are leaves drifting down a few at a time.

There’s a big part of me that is resisting winter this year (thank god for this incredibly long and beautiful Indian summer!)—I’m sort of steeling myself—-getting ready. Not so much for the cold temperatures as for the darkness, and the lack of color, and the confinement. I usually look forward to it, and enjoy preparing for winter, but not this year.

It’s looking like we may not breed the goats this year—a first. We sold our buck this summer, and planned to breed to P*’s Boer buck, and then we would eat all the kids next year, but it looks like P*’s buck may not be fertile. He hasn’t bred any of P*’s does, last year or this year. It’s funny, but before P* even mentioned that, I had started thinking about maybe just not breeding our ladies this year, instead maybe milking them through the winter. Supposedly in the spring, if I do that, their milk production will increase to a respectable amount again. I don’t know if that’ll work with these Nubian gals—Swiss breeds are the ones that can pull that off—but we’ll see. It kind of eases my mind, thinking about not dealing with kidding this spring, but I’m sad, too. Kids are the most exciting things that happen around here all year! However, just the fact that we were breeding to a Boer, and wouldn’t be keeping any of the kids for herd replacements, seemed to take a lot of the excitement out of the whole thing, for ED and I both. We love breeding, and seeing what we get from different crosses—there’s so much speculation and potential, and surprises.

DH and I have a lot on our minds right now—places to live, ways to make a living—that maybe a little break on the farm front will be a good thing. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

ED and I went to the Inn and cooked breakfast this morning, after which she had a baby-sitting gig. I loved having her help.

The clientele at the Inn is….interesting. Lots and lots of nouveau riche republican rednecks from tennessee, interspersed with the occasional petulant vegan from Asheville. We had one of those today, though I never actually laid eyes on him—-just the petulant girlfriend of the vegan.

“I asked for there to be a vegan meal prepared.”

“Yes—I have english muffins, and cereal with soymilk, and fruit.” (Not

very inspired, I know, but I get this information when I get to work the morning

of, and besides, I don’t really have any desire to cook a whole special meal—a vegan meal—for one out of my thirteen guests!)

“Oh, well that won’t work—he can’t eat wheat.”

Now wouldn’t that have been good information to have had?! I’m just giving thanks that I didn’t go out of my way to prepare something—with what I’ve got to work with at the Inn, it surely would’ve had wheat!