A Canyon Birthday Adventure

Poppy's birthday happened to fall on a Saturday this year, which meant we could celebrate on the day itself in a more satisfying way than happens when the birthday falls on a school day. Especially since, miracle of miracles, there was nothing else going on that day.

Poppy loves to hike. We asked her if she would like us all to go hiking as a family in our (relatively) nearby impressive canyon.

She was of course enthused about the idea, so I packed a picnic lunch, A. packed a fishing pole and bait, we both packed the two dogs into Adventure Van, and away we went.

We hit a bit of a snag at the very beginning of our hike, which requires us to go across the river. The point at which we cross typically has many rocks above water for a dry crossing. This time, there was no way to get across without getting wet. No way for me, anyway. I took one look at this situation and said out loud to A. "I am going to fall in this water."

Well, the boys found one spot a bit further downstream where they jumped about three feet from one rock to another, downward-sloping rock. They tried to convince me that I could do this. I, however, have no delusions about my complete inability to jump even short distances, so I declined.

A. and Poppy crossed at our usual spot by removing their shoes, rolling up their jeans, and wading across. A. offered to carry me across, but I didn't want to consider what a bad scene it would be if he fell while I was on his back, so I declined this, too.

I took off my shoes and waded. And sure enough, I was the only one to fall. Much to my family's amusement. 

I just fell back into a sitting position, and all that got wet was my bottom. I didn't get hurt or anything, so I continued on to the other side and spent the rest of the hike with a soaked seat. Good thing it was a warm day.

Also by the stream were some nasty burs that got stuck in the barefoot children's feet, as well as in the dogs' paws. But once we took care of that, we were all set to hike.

Birthday girl hiking. And some gnarly Russian thistle plants that lined the path.

This trail leads to a very nice shady spot under a cliff that only requires maybe a half mile walk. The river where A. wanted to fish was about a hundred yards further down the path. 

We stopped at the cliff in the shade to eat our lunch. This included Poppy's birthday taste test: Pringle flavors.

Cheddar, sour cream and onion, ranch, and pizza.

The pizza-flavored ones did taste surpisingly very like pizza, but it turns out this is somewhat disconcerting in a Pringle. These were not universally enjoyed. More popular were the ranch and sour cream and onion flavors. I personally liked the ranch best. Pringles are pretty tasteless in the original version, so the addition of flavors is a good one.

We had other food, too, of course.

Biscuits (made that morning because I was running low on bread), tuna salad, and not-pictured cookies and beef jerky.

A. left after lunch to fish. The children elected to stay and climb the cliff. It's one of their favorite things to do.

It looks much bigger in real life.

The older two boys made it all the way to the top there at the right. The younger two were about halfway when A. yelled "Fish on!" and they went scrambling down and away to the river to see the catfish A. caught.

The dogs stayed with me.

In the shade. Smart Jasper.*

The younger kids fished for awhile themselves before we decided it was time to head back. We of course had to cross the river again. I elected to keep my shoes on this time, and had no trouble at all. I guess I just can't balance well on rocks in bare feet.

The slippery algae didn't help, either.

The children, unsurprisingly, wanted to stay in the water for awhile.

And since we were about to go home, I didn't care if they got soaking wet. Which of course they did.

After a thorough soaking, they all piled their wet selves into the van and we headed home for a birthday dinner and presents.

It was a good day. We should do it more often.

* Amazingly, Jasper doesn't smell at all like skunk anymore. I guess maybe the dry climate keeps smells from lingering? I don't know, but I appreciate it.

Snapshots: Highly Domestic

For unknown reasons, I was apparently struck by the Fall Cleaning urge this week. When such an urge strikes, I take advantage.

Thus, I finally took all the haphazardly folded, unorganized, and perpetually falling linens off the high shelf in Poppy's bedroom closet, sorted them, and put them in these under-bed storage things I bought, um, two months ago.

They are now under one of the boys' beds, where they will definitely not fall down.

Later in the week, since I had cleaned out Poppy's closet and her floor was relatively clear, I decided to clean under her bed. She has a bunk bed with a bunch of under-bed storage bags, too, with extra clothing, blankets, etc., so I have to haul everything out to reach the back under there by the wall. She also has a very small, dark room, which makes it hard to work in there. 

I did it anyway, though. There were quite a few small things--socks, pajamas, toys, etc.--that had fallen through the sides of her bed around the walls that I couldn't quite reach with my hand. So I used a rake.

 A different kind of fall raking.

And then I had to commando-crawl all the way under the bed to reach with the vacuum attachment so I could get the thick layer of dust that had accumulated against the walls. 

A reminder of why I don't do this very often. It was no fun. But it's done now!

AND THEN.

Chaos in the living room.

My sister had an extra Oriental rug that she didn't need. She brought it with her when she moved from Florida to Colorado and delivered it to our house like two years ago. You can see that the closer rug in the above photo is totally worn out--that's why it looks sort of white--so the plan was to use my sister's rug to cover over the threadbare rug. 

However, on that side of the living room were a wooden bench, a computer desk, and two bookcases full of books. I was daunted by moving all of that, and so the rug has been sitting in A.'s office all this time, awaiting my inspiration.

On Thursday I had a rare day on which I was not doing laundry or cooking, and it was sort of rainy so I wasn't going outside. Thus, I seized the day.

Our living room is narrow and long, as you can see. And we have too many books, as you can also see by the books piled on the edge of the big bookcase to the left.

This took me about five hours. The new rug had a pretty big hole cut out of it in an awkward place. I knew this ahead of time, although I couldn't visualize exactly where it was on the rug until I had laid it out. In the end, I had to lay the rug horizontally across the room and put the bench against the same wall as the couch to cover the hole. This necessitated rearranging all the furniture in that half of the living room. I still can't decide if I like it better this way, but I'm going to live with it for awhile and see how I feel about it.

In any event, this allowed me to clean everything in the living room. Those bookcases literally never get moved, so it was particularly satisfying to clean behind and under where they had been.

Poppy turned eight years old yesterday, and on Friday we had a pre-birthday tea party with her friend who goes to a different school and has never been to our house. (We mostly see her at church or sporting events.)

Making place cards.

Tea for two. (And me. Mine was the third place set, but I didn't get a place card.)

And last, flowers!

Cosmos on the table.

Randomness on the bookcase.

And for the church altar . . .

I do believe these are the very last sunflowers of the year.

There you have it! My life, snapshotted.

Friday Food: Custom Potatoes

Friday 

Short version: Sausage and potatoes, leftover baked beans, leftover pulled pork, tomato salad

Long version: I had made the sausage and potato skillet with leftover sausage, thinking A. could take it when he went hunting with one boy. They didn't go this day, though, so I just served it for dinner. Those for whom the sausage was too spicy had the leftover pork.

I finally got enough tomatoes for a salad, too. I think the chickens got after the tomatoes, because I didn't have any ripe ones for several days. I managed to scrounge up enough for a small tomato salad this night, though.

With basil.

Brown, brown, RED.

Saturday

Short version: All over the place

Long version: One boy was gone on an FFA trip and ate on the road. 

A. and Poppy were gone on a hiking/fishing excursion and ate at a restaurant. 

I was on my way back from flag football at dinnertime with the sandwich-loving boy, so I stopped at Subway on the way home and got him a 12-inch sub for dinner. I had made myself a cheese omelet before I left that I brought along and ate during the games, plus I ate some of the beef jerky and store-brand Oreos I had brought for the football player.

The eldest son was the only one home. He made himself spaghetti with marinara sauce.

It was quite a day.

Sunday

Short version: Meatloaf, customized potatoes, green salad with vinaigrette, apple crisp with vanilla ice cream

Long version: My family does not agree on the best way to eat potatoes. I have one child who dislikes mashed potatoes entirely. Two children prefer their mashed potatoes to be actually pureed with no lumps. The remaining child likes slightly lumpy mashed potatoes.

I do not usually indulge this ridiculousness, but this time I did take a few pieces of potato out of the pot after I added butter and before I mashed them for the mashed-potato-hater. I then mashed the potatoes with my potato masher. And then, since I had the immersion blender out from pureeing some tomatoes earlier, I removed one portion of these potatoes and pureed the rest.

It really is ridiculous, and I will most likely never do that again, but everyone was happy.

A plate with the pureed potatoes, I believe.

I made the apple crisp with one of my bags of frozen apple slices. It's always worth it to prepare and preserve fruit.

Monday

Short version: Quadruple-chicken fried rice, chocolate chip cookies

Long version: I made chicken stock with a bag of frozen bones, etc. that I wanted to get out of the freezer. I used the stock to cook the rice. Then I used the chicken fat to cook the onions and garlic. The meat I picked off the bones went into the fried rice, as did eggs, of course.

Four kinds of chicken products in one meal. Maybe a record. 

Tuesday

Short version: Soup, leftover fried rice, ice cream

Long version: I made soup with some of the chicken stock, plus the last piece of meatloaf, diced fine, tomatoes, collards, potatoes, carrots, green chile, and sour cream.

I asked all the kids--except the soup hater--if they wanted soup or fried rice, and they all asked for both. Thy will be done, children.

Ice cream because a meal of mostly-vegetable soup and leftovers is always better tolerated with a dessert to follow. Also, Poppy informed me that Windows said it was National Dessert Day. Far be it from us to not celebrate such an important national holiday.

Wednesday

Short version: Pork chops, chicken-y rice, frozen green peas

Long version: I marinated the pork chops--both sirloin and center cut--in soy sauce, vinegar, brown sugar, and garlic before browning them in a skillet and then baking them to finish cooking them. They were good.

Rice made with the chicken stock and finished off with an entire stick of butter.

Thursday

Short version: Fast sandwiches, a salad, leftovers, concession food

Long version: I had about twenty minutes after the children got home on the bus to get Poppy ready to cheer at the volleyball game. The youngest boy and his friend had flag football practice, conveniently at the same school Poppy was cheering at. They didn't really have time to eat at home, so I made everyone cheese sandwiches to eat in the car. They also all brought money to get food at the concession stand.

I had a salad before they got home with some pork in it, plus feta cheese, leftover peas, pickled onions, and tomatoes.

Pretty.

Those at home had either sandwiches or leftover pork chops.

Refrigerator check:

Lots of eggs and milk.

Okay, your turn! What'd you eat this week?

The Sharp-dressed Cowboy

One of the many things I have learned since coming here to cattle country is that cowboys are very particular about their clothing. Not, of course, when they're working. When they're out branding or fencing or rounding up cattle, they wear their old, worn-out jeans and shirts*. But if they're dressing up for church or a school event or even a rodeo?

Then it's Starch Time.

Starch is a very important part of the cowboy's dress clothing. They still wear the same kind of jeans or shirts, they're just in good condition and, most importantly, they are heavily starched and ironed. And I do mean heavily. The laundering happens preferably at an actual laundry, because they don't use the spray starch. They actually dip jeans in a vat of starch before pressing them. This results in a starch so heavy that the jeans will literally stand up on their own and the owners have to "break" the legs of them before they can put them on.

I have listened to half-hour conversations among ranch wives about which laundries use enough starch and get jeans starched enough that they will stay creased properly through four wearings. It's a big thing.

I have never visited any of these laundries, and don't usually worry about starching and ironing our clothes, but my sons do occasionally have to make an effort to meet the proper cowboy standards for their clothing. Most notably for FFA contests.

One son went to a livestock judging competition this past weekend for which his FFA advisor specifically said his clothes should be ironed. He could wear (new) jeans and just a button-down, but they must be ironed.

I knew that meant starched, as well. Said son was busy helping a neighbor round up her cattle the morning he was supposed to leave, so I did his ironing for him. I do not like to iron, at all, but I know how to do it if necessary. Just like a businessman's dress clothes, the sleeves of the shirts and the legs of the jeans should have a visible crease that runs in the center of the seams, which requires folding the clothing carefully before ironing.

We have heavy duty spray starch, which is what I used. I sprayed more starch than I thought I would need and very carefully lined up the creases properly before ironing them in.

This would probably be easier if I had a full-sized ironing board, but I don't want to store one.

Those jeans certainly won't stand up on their own, but at least they had the proper creasing. Even if it only lasted for one wearing.

* ALWAYS long-sleeved button-downs or snap shirts, though. This is entirely a matter of practicality, to keep the sun from absolutely frying their arms and necks when they're out working all day. 

Snapshots: Very Fall Flowers

In my continuing series of "things I buy in giant sizes . . ."

A gallon of (fake) vanilla. And the smaller bottle I decant it into. This should last me maybe a year and a half? I won't run out for awhile, anyway.

Our neighbor told he us he had a bunch of figs on a tree and we were welcome to come get them. I was surprised, because we also have a fig tree, and it's just a bit too cold here for it to grow well.

We duly went to this house and looked for a fig tree. There was no fig tree. We found the tree with small brown fruits on it, but it wasn't a fig tree. A. identified it as a jujube, a Chinese fruit that has been getting more popular in North America. The fruits are very small, and taste sort of like a pear or an apple. Crunchy, but drier, and with a somewhat bland, sweet flavor.

I haven't figured out what to do with them yet. If all else fails, there's always fruit syrup.

I took a trip to town on Monday to get paint. I was also getting sheets of insulation, which meant I was driving the van. The van was last used for a hunting trip. I got about fifteen miles away from home before I saw the hunting knife on the dash. 

Oops.

And then I turned around and saw this on the seat behind me.

Great. A moving arsenal.

I hid everything under the seat and covered it all with that coat. And I was very careful to lock the van when I got out of it.

I got my paint and have finished painting both bathrooms, except the sinks.

A sneak peak of our bathroom.

This water damage was from way before we lived here, and it was very ugly.

That's better.

Yesterday I drove 200 miles for a flag football game.

Nice day for it.

Well, it was actually three games, which meant we were on the field for almost four hours. It was too windy to wear my dorky sun hat, so I found the one strip of shade from a goal post and camped out there.

The post was even padded for my leaning comfort.

And did it still smell like skunk when we got home from this extended outing? YUP. Slightly less so, however.

And last, flowers!

Lots of cosmos for the table.

And some for the bookcase, in addition to calendula and yellow clover.

This week's altar arrangement.

There you have it! My life, snapshotted.

A Direct Skunk Hit

I don't know what it going on, but I have seen more skunks around this fall than I have seen in the previous seven years we've lived here combined.

A few weeks ago, the eldest child came to find me late at night to let me know that a skunk had sprayed directly under his window and that it was too awful in his room to sleep. He moved onto the couch for the night. Shortly after that, the dogs sounded the alarm in the shop, and A. went out to find a small skunk wedged against the shop's foundation wall, under a shelf. He managed to shoot it anyway and we disposed of it. The dogs were slightly stinky, but didn't sustain any damage from the encounter.

This morning at 5:30, I was sitting in my room with the window open when I smelled the unmistakable presence of a skunk. And then the dogs again started barking frantically, this time in the covered porch that is right out our front door.

I grabbed a flashlight and opened the front door to find Jasper on the front steps and a skunk right next to the steps with its tail raised.

I stood in our front door to take this photo. The skunk was right between that jug of vinegar and the red jacket.

I closed the door and alerted A. By the time he got his pistol loaded, the skunk was gone. The dogs had left their defensive positions. Partially they gave up because once I arrived, they considered their job done. But also, the skunk sprayed. Right there. On our front steps. And directly in Jasper's face, I think.

When A. went out to find the skunk gone, Jasper was hiding in the corner, making little gasping noises and with his eyes streaming tears. He had clearly gotten the spray in his eyes and also inhaled some. I looked online to see what we should do, but the suggestions of flushing his eyes out with saline solution or bathing his head with a mixture of hydrogen peroxide, etc. didn't seem too practical for one of our feral dogs. They are not accustomed to being handled, and he was obviously in distress. I think we would have gotten a pretty good bite for our troubles.

The internet also said we should take him to a vet. Given the nearest vet is 100 miles away, I decided to wait a bit on that one and see what happened.

In the meantime, our entire house absolutely reeked of skunk. I have never smelled anything like it. A strong skunk smell is a bit like really strong tire rubber. This was like that, but more chemically and a little like garlic. If garlic smelled like tires and chemicals. It was bad. SO bad. And everywhere in the house.

The smell actually woke all the children up. There wasn't much I could do. I don't buy scented candles, although we do have three religious candles with saints on them that A. bought at the grocery store many years ago for the children. These are lightly scented, so I lit them and gave two to the youngest children, who brought them into Poppy's room. This is a small room, with no outside windows or anything, so they could kind of seal it off. 

They also asked me for some of my perfume. I bought a set of sample fragrances awhile ago so I could try a bunch, and I still had some. I gave this to them.

A plethora of options.

They chose Versace White Diamond and sprayed it liberally in Poppy's room.

The eldest child barricaded himself in his bedroom and sprayed his cologne in there. Amusingly, this is Versace Eros. So now that entire side of the house smells like a Versace scent factory.

I, meanwhile, sat at the dining room table with the St. Martin candle directly under my nose.

Being careful not to burn my nose, of course.

As soon as it was light, I was out the door in search of fresh air. An excellent incentive to get out for my run this morning. 

Jasper was still in his corner, but when I came out, he got up and went on my run with me. His eyes seemed fine, although he did stop several times to rub his head in the tall grasses and I caught his unfortunate stench anytime I was downwind of him.

The face of a dog who will not be getting any petting in the near future.

The kitchen, which is pretty close to the front door, still smells bad, even with all the windows open. For this reason, I allowed the eldest child to eat his breakfast in his bedroom. The younger children ate theirs in the van.

Well-ventilated, and with handy cup holders for their chocolate milk.

I can only hope that skunk took off for a far-off destination, never to be seen again. And that we don't get any more skunky visitors this fall.

Addendum: How naive of me to think the skunk was gone! Just now, hours after the excitement, I was coming up the front steps and saw something black and furry wedged under the firewood rack right next to the steps. Like literally eight inches from where my feet were. For a second I thought it was one of the dogs. But they had gone on a walk with one of the kids. Could it be the skunk, which had hidden itself RIGHT NEXT TO MY FRONT STEPS?

Yup. Apparently the dogs were so traumatized by their run-in with it, they just decided it could live next to our steps forevermore.

This time A. had his pistol ready to go and dispatched it quickly. But it did not go gently into that good night, instead sending out more waves of putrid stench as it died. Next to my front door.

Thanks a lot, skunk. And good riddance.

Friday Food: Many Carrots

Friday

Short version: Cheeseburger patties, mashed potatoes, leftover baked beans, tomato/cucumber salad

Long version: I asked A. if he would rather have the hamburgers with gravy, or as cheeseburgers. He chose the cheeseburgers. I didn't have any buns, so it was just the patties.

I miraculously had one cucumber from the garden that was only partially bitter. Usually the whole thing is too bitter to eat. Occasionally I get lucky and there will be one or two that are only bitter on the stem end. I can only determine this if I taste them, though, so I taste a tiny bit of every cucumber starting from the stem end to see if it's edible. If that end is bitter, I'll cut a bit from the blossom end and try that. If that's okay, then I have to experiment with cutting bits off different spots to see where it gets inedible.

It's quite unpleasant, because I often just get a really bitter bite that has to be spit out. I persevere, however, because I hate to waste them.

Anyway. This one was about half edible, so I combined it with some tomatoes and just dressed that with leftover ranch dressing.

Saturday

Short version: Dad's omelets, leftover macaroni and cheese, carrot sticks

Long version: This was the day I took Poppy to the very remote birthday party. I didn't know what time I would be getting home, but I knew I wouldn't want to be making dinner, so I informed A. there were lots of eggs and he could make omelets.

Then when I walked in the door at 5 p.m. and the boys immediately wanted to know what was for dinner, I could refer them to their father, who started to make the omelets.

He put cheddar cheese, chopped tomato, and parsley in them. 

I added the leftover macaroni and cheese and the carrot sticks, because I can never let well enough alone.

Sunday

Short version: Pork chops, rice, green salad with vinaigrette, pots de creme

Long version: I battled my inner lazy demon about these pork chops. I was tempted to just stick them under the broiler with some barbecue sauce. I knew, however, they would be better if I made more effort.

My better self won, and I dredged them in an egg wash and seasoned flour before browning them and then putting them in the oven while I was baking bread. These turned out pork chops that were so good, the one child who is quite sparing with his compliments informed me that these were the best pork chops he's ever had. A. agreed. 

More work=more flavor.

And more happiness on the plate.

I hadn't made pots de creme in quite some time. It's always a very popular dessert. Incidentally, I decided that there was no point in encouraging too much greed with this rich dessert by making a double recipe. So now I only make the single recipe. I don't eat any, and it's enough for the five other members of my family.

They do not agree with this, but then, they're not the ones making the pots de creme.

Monday

Short version: Chicken tomato corn chowder, garlic bread, cheese, ice cream

Long version: This was a very delayed soup. I made the stock and picked off the meat the previous Thursday, when my dinner plan changed to accommodate two extra children. I made the chowder on Saturday morning, thinking maybe I would just heat it up if I got home early enough. But then A. made his omelets. So we had it this night, instead.

I had made the garlic bread the previous day when I was baking bread, which made this a meal that only required re-heating the day of.

I hadn't been planning on ice cream, but one child was sick and had a sore throat. Ice cream seemed appropriate in such a situation.  And of course, everyone else must have some, too. It was plain vanilla, with a choice of maple syrup or chocolate syrup.

Tuesday

Short version: Sausages, meatballs, leftovers, green grapes, later bread and butter

Long version: I thawed a package of jalepeno/cheddar sausages and another of the not very popular mozzarella and basil sausages. And then I had a small bag of prepared meatballs I froze a month or so ago that I also put in the oven with some ketchup, barbecue sauce, and water.

These various meat products were served with leftover rice, mashed potatoes, and chowder. Green grapes instead of a vegetable because I had been to the store this day. And I had also baked bread just before dinner, which of course meant that everyone must have a slice of the fresh bread as soon as it was cooled enough to slice without completely destroying the loaf.

Wednesday

Short version: Pork, baked beans, butter-swim biscuits, maple carrots, pickles, rice pudding

Long version: When I have a pork shoulder in the oven for a long time, I usually make baked rice pudding, too. This time I also squeezed in some carrots to cook at the same time. Those just had butter and maple syrup on them. I haven't yet found a better way to cook carrots.

A couple of my children refuse to eat cooked carrots of any kind, even with maple syrup, which is why I also put out some pickles. A vegetable of a sort.

These biscuits. I always make one and half times the recipe and bake it in a 9"x13" pan. We had a guest with us for dinner, so I prevailed upon my children to not call the biscuits by their own original and unappetizing appellation of "butter-bloat biscuits." I like alliteration, but not when it's gross.

When non-family-members join us for dinner, I usually set everything out as a buffet. That way our guests can get up for seconds without feeling as if they need to ask first.

Thursday

Short version: Pulled pork sandwiches, leftover baked beans, carrot sticks

Long version: I had a lot of containers of leftovers crowding the refrigerator, so a dinner of leftovers was in order. 

I had the last of the chowder.

Everyone else had pulled pork sandwiches made with leftover pork. Plus baked beans and carrot sticks.

Refrigerator check:

Okay, your turn! What'd you eat this week?

First Fire

Over the most recent two decades of my life, woodstoves have featured heavily in 17 of those years. We had a couple of years in our house on the Canadian border without a woodstove, and about six months in the rental house we first lived in in New Mexico didn't have one, either. But otherwise, I have built hundreds of fires to heat our homes both in New York and New Mexico.

Our woodstove in New York would hold a fire overnight, so it wasn't always necessary to build one every morning. But our woodstove here doesn't do that. I have to build a fire every morning. This is almost always my task, because I get up so much earlier than everyone else.

Looking at the weather forecast for today, I saw 48 degrees overnight and a high of only 59 degrees, with rain, for today. That, to me, spelled out "first fire" just as clearly as if it were in the forecast itself.

Accordingly, I spent some time yesterday cleaning up around the woodstove. I had to clear away all the things that had accumulated around the stove--the apple scrap vinegar that was fermenting, water jugs, empty ice cream buckets, etc.--and then vacuum off the woodstove itself and the area around it. It always gets very dusty over the summer.

The interior of the stove was cleaned out after the last fire, so that was ready. I had to shift the liquor cabinet from its summer position closer to the woodstove (and clean the cabinet and the area around it, because gross) to its winter position further over so there would be room for the wood rack.

Last, I gathered together everything I would need to start the fire: kindling that was still scattered in the area where the boys chop it for me in the winter, small pieces of wood, a box, and paper. I bring all of this in overnight so it won't be damp when I have to start the fire.

The younger children's old math workbooks are the best for starting fires, because the pages are so thin. And they like to see their math burn.

At 5:30 a.m., I layered the crumpled paper, ripped up cardboard, smaller pieces of kindling, bigger pieces of kindling, and small pieces of wood, and lit it.

The first flames of a very long woodburning season.

Barring difficulties like wet materials or zero draft, I can get a fire started in about ten minutes.

There it is.

When it's time to get the children up for school, I will get their clothing out of their rooms and lay it on top of the woodstove to warm up before they put it on. It makes it slightly easier to roust them out of their warm beds and into another cold school morning.

It's not yet time to burn the stove continuously, as the weather will fluctuate between pretty warm days and colder nights for some time yet, but the stove is now ready to go whenever its needed.

Are there any winter preparations happening at your house?

Snapshots: Sunrise, Pickles, Flowers, and a Remote Party

 I went for a sunrise walk. And I brought my phone.

Some very late sunflowers.

The schoolhouse and the sheep.

The rising sun behind our compound.

I was gifted some more cucumbers, so of course I made more pickles.

Commence pickling.

October is a mayordoma month for me, so I finally changed the (fake) flowers on the altar from the spring-y ones I put there after Easter to something a bit more seasonally appropriate.

I'm not really a fan of these colors, but at least St. Joseph's robe doesn't clash with them.

Neither does St. Therese's.

And then, of course, I had to make something complementary for the front of the altar.

Autumn arrangement featuring yellow apricot leaves, yellow clover, sunflowers, and orange calendula.

I didn't use the very pink cosmos for that, as they don't really match that color scheme, but I do have a lot of them for the table.

Candlelight and flowers before school for a gentle start to the day.

I found this thing curled up on the floor of the sacristy at church.

It was still barely alive, so I swept it up and put it outside. Even insects dying in a church are entitled to mercy.

Poppy was invited to a classmate's birthday party. This girl doesn't live in our district but chooses to come to our school. Her mother works there, too, and they have to drive over an hour to get to school. Which meant we had to drive an hour to get to her house. About 18 miles of that were on dirt roads.

I bet this is fun in the winter.

They live in a very beautiful spot, though, with a little spring that's been channeled and runs right behind their house.

There you have it! My life, snapshotted.