Thankful

In triplicate.

Happy Thanksgiving, my lovelies. Eat up.

Winter Travel

Unless you're going on a tropical vacation in the winter, packing for winter travel involves a whole lot of stuffing overly-puffy outdoor apparel in a too-small suitcase.

You may also enjoy the background shenanigans that is A. trying to watch Cheap Truck Challenge on the computer with all three boys using him as a jungle gym.* 

In addition, A. spent five straight hours shoveling this morning so we could actually drive our car out of our driveway to get to Blackrock for Thanksgiving. 

I'm sure the pies will be worth it, though.

* P.S. This is the view from my kitchen. In case you were wondering what my perspective is in this house, it is this. The view from the kitchen, my permanent station.

You Be the Judge

So how much snow did we get? Well, let's see.

This much.

And this much.

Cubby didn't have school yesterday--no surprise, considering the howling blizzard--but he did have to get to the road to catch the bus today. A. went out at 6:30 a.m. to start shoveling the driveway. He shoveled it out yesterday, but the continuing snow and, more importantly, the wind blowing drifts, had covered it over again.

He did make a large enough spot at the end for the bus to turn around, but the driver elected to just keep going and presumably make a loop to stay on the plowed surface of the road.

Wise man.

The drifts between our house and the road were deep enough that A. actually carried Cubby part of the way to the side of the road to wait for the bus. A. is still outside shoveling, trying to dig out the van so we can leave for Blackrock tomorrow.

I don't even know how much snow we got--18 inches maybe--but I think it's safe to say our winter snow pack has begun.

The Final Harvest

It was 63 degrees and sunny on Saturday. This was appreciated in November, especially as our forecast let us know in no uncertain terms that Winter Is Coming. Specifically, two days of snow accompanied by frigid temperatures and gusting winds.

Better make hay while the sun shines! Or, in our case, pull up the sole remaining beet in the garden.

And such a beet. The biggest beet I have ever seen.

I set Cubby and Charlie the task of pulling.

Heave ho- . . .

 . . . -ly shit, that's a huge beet.

Gallons of borscht, right there.

After considering this behemoth for a second, Charlie asked "Mommy, is it as big as my head?"

Well, let's find out.

Yup. (This is not a trick of perspective, by the way.)

While we were in the garden, we shoved in some peach and plum pits that we had saved into the soil to see if they'll sprout. If they do, then maybe we can transplant them and grow some fruit trees. Kind of a long shot, but it doesn't hurt to try.

Next I gathered some of the last apples on one of the trees in the back to make some apple cider vinegar. Then some more wild grapes to add to some feral apples I already had for a last batch of apple-grape jelly.

We spent some time picking up outside and making sure anything that we didn't want covered by snow was under cover. I pulled the snow shovel out of the barn and set it right next to the front door.

It started snowing yesterday morning at 7 a.m.

This morning at 5 a.m. when I went outside to let Mia out, I opened the door to this:

I particularly like the snow that blew against the door and formed a little ridge to step over. And the wind-sculpted foot-deep drift on the porch.

I can't even tell how much snow has fallen, thanks to the wind blowing it around. Several inches, for sure. But we have applesauce, jelly, vinegar, and one ENORMOUS beet. Bring on the winter.

Not Recommended

A friendly bit of advice, my lovelies: Should you wish to soften your refrigerated butter a bit for your husband, who just the night previously had said we must be sure to have soft butter in the morning for waffles as nothing ruins waffles more than hard butter chunks that won't melt into the waffle, do NOT put two sticks of butter on top of the coffee maker "for just a second" while you make your coffee.

I mean, unless you really feel the best way to start your day is by cleaning up a greasy puddle of melted butter all over your coffee machine and the counter. And everything that was near the coffee machine on the counter.

At least it didn't get it into my coffee. And it wasn't quite as bad as the time the jar of maple syrup tipped over and spread a cup of maple syrup across a whole shelf of the lazy susan.

But still. Don't be like me. No butter on top of the coffee maker, okay? Okay.

Carry on.

Complicating the Uncomplicated

This morning I was washing some dishes in the sink after making a vat of applesauce, and I noticed that the water didn't seem nearly as hot as it usually is. Huh. Weird. We always have hot water here.

Now, the hot water at Blackrock was a highly variable thing. The amount and temperature of the water depended on the time of day, the season, and how much hot water was used that day. Quite frequently, we wouldn't have any water at all, hot or otherwise. But here, the water comes reliably from a well and the water heater heats on demand, so there is always water and it is always hot.

Such is my Blackrock-trained mindset however, that as soon as I realized the water was lukewarm rather than hot, I immediately thought, "Oh God. The water heater isn't working and it's going to take forever to get someone here to fix it and I'm going to be boiling water on the stove to wash dishes and . . ."

But then I stopped myself. This is not Blackrock. Maybe I should think this through with a more rational, modern-house mentality.

First I turned on the hot water in the bathroom to make sure it was a whole-house problem, and not something to do with the kitchen supply. No hot water there at all, so to the hot water heater I went.

I thought maybe there was some kind of thermostat on it I could check, or something obvious I could try.

Indeed there was. Like the bright-red on/off switch right on the front--at, ahem, child level--that was turned to "off."

After I flipped it back on and was rewarded with the whoosh of the hot water heater immediately beginning to heat the water in the tank, I called Charlie in for questioning. He of course vehemently denied touching any switches, but said Jack had been in there a couple of days ago.

Yeah, sure.

I explained to Charlie that he should never, ever touch any of the switches on the machines in the utility area, and that if he sees Jack playing with them, he should tell me so I can make sure nothing got messed up. He assured me he would.

It's nice to be in a house where there are simple solutions to problems that were often major at Blackrock. If only I could find a solution to the monkeying children problem . . .

Life With Boys: Part Two

Sometimes I play a game with the kids we call "Animal," wherein I name an animal and they have to pretend to be that animal.

It always starts very entertainingly, with Cubby pretending to get caught in a trap when they're being mice or Charlie flying backwards when he's being a hummingbird*. Jack just runs after them and falls on them whenever they get on the ground to slither like snakes or whatever. It's all in good fun.

But eventually they get too worked up and every animal becomes one that's attacking the others. Tonight when we were playing and I got sick of harmless bunny rabbits morphing into the Monty Python rabbit, I finally stood up and announced, "We are playing Animal, not Predator and Prey. If I see any more Predator and Prey, this game is over."

And then Jack bit Charlie and Charlie pulled Cubby's pants down and, well, the game was over.

* Hummingbirds are the only birds who are known to fly backwards. That is approximately fact #100,983,110 I never would have learned if not for having children and being forced to read innumerable books about subjects I have no interest in. Also for your trivia enjoyment: Snakes smell with their tongues. You can bust that one out when you're stumped for conversation at your next holiday gathering. You are so welcome.