Braiding onions

With freezing nights upon us, we've been harvesting the garden little by little and storing the produce wherever we can. We don't have a basement and it would be very difficult to dig a root cellar (heavy clay soil, poor drainage -- a hole in the ground simply fills with water). We eventually have plans to build an above-ground root "cellar," but until that happens, we have to make do however we can.

Today I dealt with the onions. Onions are ready to pull when the tops flop over. While nearly every onion I planted grew, I realized we didn't plant nearly enough. We love onions and use a lot, so next year I'll plant more.

A few days ago I pulled up the onions. The yield from the first bed filled a large basket.

I filled an additional crate with the onions from miscellaneous other locations (no photo, sorry).

I put the crate and basket by the woodstove for a few days so the onions could dry. This morning, since the outer skin was dry and papery, I decided to try my hand at braiding onions.

I found a link on how to braid, but while that showed me the general idea, it sure as heck bore no resemblance to reality, as I found out.

First thing I did was trim the roots to about an inch long. (Why this is important, I have no idea. It's not like onion roots are terribly big.)

I also brushed off the extra dirt.

The online instructions suggest a braid of thirteen onions, beginning with the largest three.

The stem of the left-hand onion is wrapped over the other two, then behind and back over, to make a sort of knot. This is where I made my first mistake -- the stem should have come around the bottom of the left-hand onion as well.

I added a fourth onion and kept its stem aligned with the center onion, then braided everything twice.

After this things got kinda messy. The idea is two new onions are added as the braid increases, with their stems mingling with the existing braid. In reality, the stems were so thick (or too thin) that unevenness quickly took over, and it was hard to tell which side to mingle the new onion stems with. It was also awkward to stop and prep a new onion each time I needed to add one. But I blundered through as best I could. The idea, presumably, isn't to get them into picture-perfect photogenic braids. The idea is to keep them together while allowing them to stay exposed to the air.

After thirteen onions are braided together, the ends are tied with a piece of twine.

I couldn't deny the end result was very pretty... until I picked it up. The braid must have weighed twenty pounds. Here's another thing I realized from the online instruction guide -- if you're using BIG ONIONS, don't braid thirteen of them together! The "thirteen" rule should only be for small dainty onions, not these whoppers I got from the garden.

However I didn't come to this conclusion until later. Gamely I tried another braid, but this time I prepped thirteen onions first by trimming their roots and brushing off the dirt. This also allowed me to sort for the largest three to use as the base.

Again I felt like I was blundering my way through, but the result was pretty and I started to feel a wee bit smug, always a dangerous thing.

I braided two more strands, which used up most of the onions.

This left the kitchen a mess (make a note: next time, do this outside)...

...but gave me four satisfyingly attractive braids.

After giving the matter some thought, I decided to hang the onions upstairs where it stays cooler in the winter (onions are best stored in just-above-freezing temps, but we don't have that option). So I trotted out to the barn and fetched some sturdy hay bale twin, then came back in and lifted up two braids of onions to bring them upstairs.

Ooof. They were heavy. As I said, I'm guessing about twenty pounds for each braid. I got them hung and came back down for the next two braids. However as I climbed the stairs, one braid broke and a bunch of onions tumbled out.

Turns out the braids were too heavy and the stems too slippery. I brought the partial braids back to the table and tied them up in half-braids.

While I was doing this, I heard a CRASH from upstairs. Same thing happened -- about half a braid simply slid out from a too-heavy braid.

Make a note: when using big honkin' onions, thirteen are far too many for a single braid. Next time I'll braid them in braids of about five onions. I tied off the half-braids and suspended those along with the two still-intact longer braids.

Despite all the ridiculous blunders, this isn't a bad way to store onions (at least, until we have a root cellar). I'm guessing the upstairs will smell of onions all winter, but that's okay.

I had a few remaining onions, so I just trimmed off what stems they had and put them in our onion basket for immediate use.

Time for cleanup.

I know there are many ways to store onions -- hanging in mesh bags, even knotting them individually in old panty hose -- but since I had neither mesh bags nor old surplus panty hose, this solution seems to work despite the difficulties.

In short, live and learn!

Close-up creepies

With the advent of autumn, we're seeing a lot of last-ditch activities by a lot of insects and arachnids. It's like they know their days are limited and their time is short. Yellow-jackets are everywhere, clustering frantically on the last of the cantaloup in the garden.

I found the dogs staring intently at this orb weaver clinging to a window frame on our front porch. Doubtless it's the same lady who graced our front porch all summer. Why she would leave her web and venture onto the more exposed portions of the house, I have no idea.

She was sluggish, displaying nothing of the deadly and nimble action shown on her web during warmer days. It did, however, allow me the opportunity for some close-up shots.

Then there's these unnamed critters. We only see them in the fall, and some years we see more than others. We've seen more this year than we have for the past ten years -- the first year we lived in Idaho, we were positively infested with them. I have no idea what they're called and would welcome anyone's positive identification.

But while they look and sound unnervingly like yellow-jackets on their surprisingly nimble flights, on the ground they're slow and bumbling and harmless.

We tend to call them "prehistoric beetles" (since we have to call them something) and are rather fond of them. If we find them in the house, and we always do, we scoop them up and toss them outside.

Prehistoric beetles are a sure sign winter is on its way. The busy season for our woodcraft business is drawing to its close which will give us the opportunity to embark on some of the projects we need to do before the snow flies. But for insects and spiders, unless they have a way of overwintering underground, their days are numbered.

Six months in the Middle Ages

I've often heard it said that if the bleep were to hit the fan in the form of a collapse of the electrical grid, then we'd all be plunged back to the 19th century. I actually remember reading a comment one time in which an older man gave a verbal shrug and said, "What's the big deal? Our great-grandparents lived when there was no electricity and they got along just fine."

These kinds of conclusions always leave me sputtering in disbelief because it portrays just how little people understand the complexity of our modern society and how dependent we are (directly and indirectly) on electricity for everything.

I shouldn't have to point out three major flaws with the idea of 19th century America: (1) Everyone grew up without power, so it's not like anyone was abruptly plunged into an unknown and frighteningly primitive lifestyle; and (2) the infrastructure for life without electricity was already in place; horses, mules, and oxen were already trained to pull carriages, wagons, and plows; everyone had the tools and equipment necessary for nonelectric living; and society was built, literally built, around the idea that everything was done by manpower or horsepower; and (3) the population in America was much much lower, both in rural areas and especially in urban areas.

In short, it's my private speculation that if America were to suddenly lose power nation-wide, we wouldn't be plunged into 19th century America. Instead we'd be plunged into the Middle Ages where life was short, brutish, and full of back-breaking hard work.

But enough philosophizing. There was a link on Survivalblog a couple days ago which I found fascinating. It seems a Russian man (who is a serious history buff and historical reenactor) will be participating in a sociological project lasting six months in which he will live exactly like a Russian peasant lived during the Middle Ages. Specifically the article states: A historical reenactment group is attempting to recreate medieval daily life outside Moscow. In an experiment launched in Khotkovo, just a few dozen kilometers from the hustle and bustle of Europe’s largest megalopolis, a 24-year-old man will spend six months alone in a medieval-style farmstead. The idea is to see if a modern person can survive in a 9th-century environment, with no access to electricity, the Internet or other modern amenities, and what impact living a hermit’s life will have on his psychological state.

As something of a history buff myself (including Medieval and Renaissance history), I find this project both fascinating and intimidating. To truly live a Medieval lifestyle, especially that of a peasant, means life is likely to be short, brutish, and full of back-breaking hard work.

If nothing else, the big strapping 24-year-old man engaging in this experiment will emerge with a DEEP appreciation of what our ancestors endured on a daily basis. I do, however, have a bone of contention in the final paragraph of the article, which states: People with a passion for historical reenactment can spend a whole year making replicas of period costumes and weaponry to show them off at a gathering that may last for only a week. With Sapozhnikov, this passion has been brought to its logical conclusion. His escape from the stresses of the modern world into another era with a more simple way of life is a dream cherished by many.

Ug, there's that "simple life" misconception again concerning primitive nonelectric living. Life back then wasn't simple, folks; it was short, brutish, and full of back-breaking hard work.

An interesting experiment, nonetheless.

A Nutritious Garden for the Prepared Family -- Guest post

This is a guest post by Mackenzie Kupfer, who writes for Avant Garden.
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A Nutritious Garden for the Prepared Family

Since I was small, I’ve been raised to be able to take care of myself in case Something Bad were to happen. I grew up foraging, sewing, shooting, and cleaning the deer my father brought home. On the east coast, where I was born and spent much of my childhood, there just don’t seem to be quite as many people preparing their kids with these kinds of skills. That’s one of the reasons my father decided to migrate out west, here to Idaho. I was always a little bit of an outsider out east because no one else went mushroom hunting and shooting with their dads. So it was nice to come out here and realize that I wasn’t alone in my upbringing!

By far, my favorite skill I’ve learned is gardening. Dad’s mother, my Nana, has let me trail along behind her in her garden since I was six, gathering tomatoes off the vine and peppers to grill over the fire pit. She taught me that what how you use your land is sacred and that you must respect what you put in it if you want to get good things out of it. Growing food for your loved ones and then cooking it for them, she said, is the best way to provide for them and prepare for hard times.

I don’t have a ton of room for things like corn in my Boise yard, but I am blessed to be able to raise up a fair number of crops in the space I have. What I’ve learned from my family and from trial and error is that there are some vegetables that are worth your time, space, and effort more than others.

Cucumbers and celery are two tasty veggies that haven’t given me much trouble to grow, but what nutrition they offer might not be worth the time and space if you’re trying to support your family. While new research suggests that they might be more worthwhile than they seem, I’d prioritize other options.

Spinach and kale are two of my favorite additions to a garden. Both are pretty low-key when it comes to maintenance and both tend to like the cooler temperatures of spring and fall. They’re also powerhouses of nutrition! They both contain tons of vitamins that help with eyesight and heart health and manganese, which is good for healthy bones.

Summer squash is a yearly staple in my yard, especially because it’s such a prolific grower! It doesn’t take much to get a big harvest. Primarily it gives a lot of Vitamin C, but it also contains molybdenum, which helps prevent anemia and tooth decay.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t talk about the root vegetables – in particular beets, radishes, and potatoes are all fairly easy to care for. And the turnaround on radish is nuts! Within a month of planting, you can start pulling up tasty, spicy gems.

For My City Friends
Some of my friends in the city aren’t as lucky as I am in terms of space. A couple of them don’t have much room to garden- one even has a cluster of garden boxes on her balcony! For them, I always recommend pole beans because they can be trellised vertically to take up less space. Unfortunately, the other trellis plant I can recommend is tomatoes, which are finicky in my experience. Otherwise, apparently beets, radishes, and peppers do pretty well cooped up in a pot.

I applaud their efforts. While it might not sustain them for very long if things went badly (and being in a city at all certainly wouldn’t be good), they have an appreciation for their food and a connection to where it comes from that all vegetable gardeners gain. I really have to respect that.

No matter which of these vegetables you choose to nurture in your garden, you can rest assured that you will have access to precious nutrients in case Something Bad happens. If you pair vegetable gardening with the skills of canning and preserving, and remember to save your seeds for the following year, you’ll be in good shape to begin surviving on your own. I’m grateful to my father and my Nana for teaching me these skills and this mindset – I know that I can provide for my family as I indulge in my favorite hobby.

Mackenzie Kupfer is a writer and gardener. She believes that everyone should have at least rudimentary gardening skills for practical needs, peace of mind, and strength of body. She writes with Avant Garden, the folks from whom she got her cast iron fire pit.

Book bomb and a big OOPS

As you may have heard, today is Book Bomb Day for James Wesley, Rawles' newest release, Expatriates.

However, all is not right. It seems there was a printing error -- not on the dust jacket, but on the book itself. "James" was printed as "John." Oops!

Here's the announcement on Survivalblog:

October 1st is Book Bomb Day for my latest novel, Expatriates: A Novel of the Coming Global Collapse. The book is available from most major bookstores. It can also be ordered from Amazon.com, BN.com, and many other online sellers. There are also Kindle book and audio book editions now available.

By now, I suppose that everyone has heard about the printing error at E.P. Dutton that resulted in 50,000 copies of the First Edition, First Printing of Expatriates having the hardcover spines (underneath the dust jacket) printed: "John Wesley, Rawles." The news media will undoubtedly be reporting this glitch. (I've made the spine images available at my Media Page.) This is newsworthy because it is not a common occurrence!

Because of the print error, only the first 26,000 copies of the hardback edition will go on sale today (October 1st, 2013.) A rush print order of revised books should be available and shipping within two weeks. The Kindle book and audio book editions were of course not affected, so their release is also proceeding, as scheduled.

The 26,000 copies already shipped to retailers with the printing error will probably become collector's items. (I'm assuming that the rest of the 50,000 copy First Press Run will be destroyed, or have new covers or labels applied.)

Free replacement copies will be available, if you'd prefer. (See the note from my publisher, below.) - J.W.R.

I can only imagine the consternation at the publisher's. Major oops!

Since this seems to be a rather unprecedented event, the original misprinted book may actually turn out to be somewhat more valuable than the correctly-printed version. (Funny how those things work.)

At any rate, if you want an edge-of-your-seat thriller good read, please considering ordering Expatriates -- misprinted or not.

Canning for a cure

Several years ago, a dear woman in my writer's group dropped a bombshell on us: she had breast cancer. I clearly remember the gasp of horror that rose from our close-knit group at her announcement.

Throughout the ensuing year, we followed Bonnie's struggles with great concern. One lovely woman made her a prayer shawl -- a hand-knit shawl that was only created while praying. Bonnie was so touched she was seldom seen without that shawl thereafter, particularly as the chemotherapy often made her chilly even on warm days.

Despite her cheerfulness and bravery, Bonnie passed away. We still miss her.

Since then, I've tried to do what I can to pass the word about women's cancer awareness, anything from doing a daily click on the Fight Breast Cancer site to making donations to making announcements about fundraisers for cancer research.

So when Brad Stieg, president of Tattler Reusable Canning Lids, contacted some people about a promotion the company is doing for women's cancer research, I immediately said I'd help pass the word.

Starting today, October 1, Tattler is selling special edition PINK reusable canning lids, and donating 35% of all sales revenue from these lids to the Munson Medical Center Women's Cancer Fund in Traverse City, Michigan.

Tattler put up a beautiful announcement here, with instructions on purchasing these special lids. Here is their press release: On October 1, 2013, Tattler Reusable Canning Lids will begin a month-long campaign in support of Breast Cancer Awareness month. We will be offering Special Edition TATTLER Reusable Canning Lids in the color PINK during the entire month. More importantly we will be donating 35% of the sales proceeds from the PINK lids to the Women's Cancer Fund which provides financial assistance for supportive care, to women battling cancer, when other means have been exhausted. We have researched and found this program to be very worthy and extremely beneficial to those who have sought support, and we encourage you to help us in our endeavor to help women battle this devastating disease.

There are very few people who have not been touched in some adverse way by breast cancer and other women's cancer issues. In the case of Brad Stieg, it was a cousin who benefited from this cancer fund and who now works as a volunteer advocate. I'm pleased to be able to support the fundraiser.

I plan to do a lot of canning in the next few weeks, and I'll be using these pink lids first of all. If nothing else, they'll be a lovely and colorful addition to my canning closet.

If you're planning on purchasing any Tattler lids (and I can't recommend them highly enough), please consider the pink edition and supporting a worthy cause.

Another tangible investment

For some time now, I've been urging people to consider tangible investments rather than intangible investments. Fiat currency and all the investment portfolios in the world are subject to endless economic tweaking that could leave their real worth far less than you think.

To that end, Don and I have always tried to think in terms of what would make our homestead more efficient and productive. Anything that fills these qualifications are, we feel, a worthwhile investment.

This past week we had to have a vet come to dehorn a four-month-old calf, give her brucellosis and tuberculosis tests, and get all her shots up to date in order to sell her. As expected, it was a physical nightmare because let me tell you, a four-month-old calf has a LOT of kick in her. I was almost nauseous with dread as the vet visit approached, knowing what kind of rodeo I could expect. Then there was the follow-up vet visit to check the tuberculosis test, which necessitated catching her once again. In short, it was a lot of hard work. Hard, and potentially dangerous. A stray hoof could kick us in the gut or the head and do a fair bit of damage. And this was a calf, not a full-grown cow.

Don and I are getting too old for this. That was our conclusion.

Yet we are determined to remain in this homesteading lifestyle, so we had to come up with a way to continue that won't threaten us with physical injury. The solution? A squeeze chute.

A squeeze chute is something we've needed for a long, long, long time... but the price has always put us off. Good squeeze chutes can run anywhere from $3000 to $7000, depending on how many bells and whistles they have. But after this past week's multiple rodeos, Don got on Craig's List and started searching out any possibilities.

And oh my, he hit the jackpot.

$950 is an awful lot of money for us, but we justified it two ways. One, if we're going to buy a big-ticket item, this is literally the only time of year we can do so, when we have a shot of income from the busy season for our woodcraft business. And two, the cost of a squeeze chute is ultimately cheaper than the cost of hospital bills from a concussion or bruised internal organs while trying to wrestle with a recalcitrant animal; or of additional vet costs for an injured animal.

Besides, this chute is far less expensive than anything else we could find. Don drove out on Wednesday and inspected it from top to bottom and found it's in superb condition, with the exception of some rotted-out wooden floor boards (which are easy to replace). Don paid the man on the spot so no one else would snap up this bargain.

So yesterday morning despite the pelting rain, we borrowed a neighbor's trailer and drove to the farm where the squeeze chute was located. It was about an hour's drive away, further into the mountains. Lovely location.

The seller didn't have all his firewood in yet, but he had a good start.

The seller was originally from Austria (he sounded exactly like Arnold Schwartzenager) and was retiring from raising beefalo. Beefalo are a cross between bisen and beef cattle, and apparently the meat is superb. However the animals are powerful and testy, far more wild than cattle, so needless to say a sturdy squeeze chute was essential. I figured if this chute could handle beefalo, it certainly can handle Dexters!

(Can you see the rain pelting on the pond?)

The seller already had the chute chained up to a track hoe, ready to load.

He lifted the unit and placed it on the trailer...

...then carefully nudged it until it was balanced in the middle. Then Don strapped it down for the trip home.

Before leaving, the seller showed us some other equipment he had for sale -- a sidebar mower, a plow blade, some balers, etc. There was an impressive yellow-jacket nest inside one of the balers.

That's a solid nest down in the bottom of this roll of baling twine. Good thing the weather was chilly and the insects were sluggish, or I sure as heck wouldn't be photographing them this closely!

The seller told us something about the sheer strength of the beefalo, and the damage they could do to intrastructure. For example they easily bent this sturdy tube gate.

More flimsy barriers such as this pressed metal gate...

...are often reduced to metal matchsticks.

I decided that no matter HOW fabulous the meat might be, I had no interest in raising something as powerful and half-wild as a beefalo. I like my Dexters and Jerseys.

We drove home with our new treasure... pardon me, investment... and parked it until a neighbor can come over with his beefy tractor to unload it.

Isn't that a pretty sight?

We still have a lot to do before the squeeze chute is usable. We need to build a run to funnel the animals into it. The run will be in a Y-shape, one branch of which will lead to the chute and the other of which will lead to a loading ramp for a livestock trailer. But the squeeze chute is the key to making life on our homestead a lot less dangerous and stressful, both for us and for the livestock.

In short, we'd rather have $950 put into a squeeze chute, than $950 sitting in the bank where it's subject to inflation or even government seizure.

Yes, tangible investments. Good idea.

Finding the faucet

Well well well, guess who found the faucet?

That's right, little Amy found mama's source of milk.

We first suspected this when I was getting ready to milk Matilda one evening, and I heard "slurp slurp slurp" coming from the barn. Peeking around a corner, sure enough there was Amy, slurping away.

I ran for the camera but of course by the time I got back into the barn, Amy was looking at me with wide-eyed innocence. "Who me? I'd NEVER be caught nursing!"

Then two evenings ago, Don took the bottles of warmed milk and went to feed Amy... who wouldn't touch it. Her little belly was full and round. And when I went to milk Matilda, instead of her usual 1.5 gallons or so, I got this:

In other words, Amy is draining Matilda dry.

Well I can hardly object. It IS the way nature intended. Still, I must confess I was enjoying bottle-feeding Amy, she's gotten a beautiful start on being very tame, and I enjoy getting so much wonderful milk from Matilda.

So now we're locking Amy into a pen at night so I can still get milk in the morning. And (ahem) I confess I'm still filling a small bottle with milk and feeding her first thing in the morning, just so she keeps seeing us in a beneficent light.

Please stand by...

Sorry I haven't been posting much but we're slammed with work. This is the last leg of our busy season and we're putting in long hours and dealing with a lot of stuff. Please stand by, I'll be back soon!

Attending the Sustainable Preparedness Expo

On Sunday, the girls and I attended the third annual Sustainable Preparedness Expo in Spokane.

We got there in the early afternoon. On the way into the building, we noticed this snappy bumper sticker...

...which, we were forced to admit, held a lot of truth.

The first thing we looked for at the expo was the booth for our friends Paratus Familia. It was impressively thronged, so we just stopped to say hello before walking around.

I bumped into another friend -- in fact, the woman who made my bra holster (and yes, I was packing heat, now that I'm legal to do so in Washington) -- and together we attended a workshop called The Plan to Plant, given by a West Virginia agriculturalist who outlined what was necessary to grow ALL one's own food.

Despite the fact that the acoustics were absolutely horrific in the large and echo-y exhibit hall, this seminar was jam-packed. Here's a portion of the audience.

The large attendance at this, and every other, workshop underscored a major thing I notice whenever I attend one of these expos: people are HUNGRY for knowledge. They know something's wrong -- with our government, with the economy, with their vulnerability when it comes to empty grocery store shelves after any disruption -- and they want to learn more about how to help themselves.

And let me tell you, every aisle was packed, every booth was thronged. There were a number of booths where I wanted to get some information, but I couldn't do much more than take a business card or brochure because the booth operators were far too busy talking with others. I was glad to see it.

This is Dave Westbrook who runs a business called Country Living University, which teaches people how to start an information-based rural business.

I heard him speak last year and was so impressed with his workshop that I approached him about interviewing for a Backwoods Home Magazine article. He agreed, but our respective schedules wouldn't permit us to get together (he lives several hours away). We touched base again at this expo and, since I have the go-ahead from the magazine for the article, I hope to interview him shortly.

There was a third workshop I wanted to attend -- about putting sustainability into preparedness, which I think is an important component -- but the girls were absolutely dragging. The little party animals had been out until 11 pm the night before attending a birthday party for a friend and were practically asleep on their feet, so we left before the seminar.

I really, really like the trend of putting on preparedness expos. More and more people are waking up to the fact that our economy is not as stable and trouble-free as they've been led to believe. It encourages me to see people actively seeking information on how to help themselves.