Monday is Laundry Day

In day's gone by, there was a rhythm and schedule to life that we seem to have lost and our lives, certainly my life, is the poorer. I enjoy having days of the week that certain chores are assigned. While people may have had a different schedule, they still managed to get the same things accomplished.

Monday was laundry day and now it always makes me happy when Monday is bright and sunny so the laundry can be hung on the line. Sunshine serves not only to dry my clothes but also to freshen and disinfect them. There's nothing like sunshine to make things bright and smell wonderful! I try to keep Monday's as laundry but sometimes life intervenes and laundry day is another day.

Tuesday was ironing day; does anyone remember the glass soft drink bottle with the holes punched in the metal top? That was used for sprinkling clothes just prior to ironing them. I love the way clothes smell when misted with lightly scented water. I use a linen, cotton or lavender scent depending upon what I'm ironing and it always smells so crisp. Mom had stretchers and she would put Daddy's work pants on those stretchers to dry without too many wrinkles. She would also keep a bit of moistened laundry, wrapped in plastic, in the bottom of the refrigerator. When she was ready to iron, out could come the pre-moistened laundry. There always seemed to be plenty of room in the refrigerator for the laundry because Mom always made our meals from scratch. With five hungry people at the table, there was little in the way of leftovers. She also had a good sized pantry where the freezer was kept as well as all the canned goods from the summer garden.

Years ago someone was visiting from NYC and looked in my pantry. She saw rows of beans, tomatoes, peaches and other good things. She asked what they were? I asked, "what does it look like?" She told me peaches, tomatoes, etc. and I said, "you're right. I canned those from Daddy's garden and orchard and will eat them this coming winter." She turned to me, eyes wide open and asked, "Is that LEGAL!?"

While it is funny, it's also sad. I fear people don't know what fresh food tastes like anymore and haven't a clue how to can food. Recently, at the thrift store, I found a Blue Ball canner with all accessories in an unopened box. The price was $20 and I was over the moon to find it all. I don't think it's possible to have too many canning kettles and jars.

Wednesday was mending day and all the buttons and torn hems or pants were sewn on this day. I like those iron on patches as well because they lend toughness to the pants, especially jeans. I've heard of adults and children who wouldn't wear patched jeans and I wonder, "why?". Are they so uppity they think patched jeans beneath them? Then I think, "how sad for you and those around you that you, in my opinion, are so falsely proud." I'm talking about wearing jeans for work or play although I'm not above going to town in work clothes. Sometimes the days are so full, it's all I can do to get to town much less worry about my clothes.

I've got a basket of torn and ripped jeans that are headed for a quilt. The jeans are about worn out but still could keep a body warm when quilted with love and prayers. I know another woman who made a blue jean quilt and she says it's quite heavy and extremely warm; I hope mine turns out as well.

Wednesday evening we attended "prayer meeting" at church and stayed for a little while to visit and catch up with folks we hadn't seen since Sunday.

Thursday...I can't remember what happened Thursday other than the usual...meals, homework, etc.

Friday was grocery shopping day and the coupons from the newspaper would be gathered and used. I don't remember the grocery store name but I can remember going there with Mom.

On Saturday, Mom cleaned house and the girls pitched in to help. Daddy and my brother worked the garden, mowed the lawn and did other, manly, chores. I never could figure out why Mom would waste a perfectly good Saturday on cleaning house; now that I'm older, I understand. It was then she had her children there to help and as we all helped dirty the house, it seemed fair we all helped clean the house. Ditto for the food out of the garden.

We children were allowed to watch Saturday morning television, can't remember if before or after cleaning, and I well remember Sky King and Penny...one of my very favorites! My brother enjoyed police and detective shows and all made an impression on him because he's a retired County Deputy Sheriff.

Sunday we went to Sunday School and church then home for a meal that was already cooking in the oven. We didn't have crock pots so Mom would put the roast in the oven on a low temperature and when we got home three hours later, it was ready and delicious. Sunday evening we headed back to church but sometimes stopped at the Dairy Queen for a soft serve after the service. What a wonderful treat!

On Sunday, we children were allowed to play but not rough house; we were allowed to ride our bikes, jump rope or other similar activities.

Monday though Thursday we came home from school and were allowed to go outside and play before supper. After supper and helping to clean up, we did homework. On Friday, we could put off homework until Sunday evening but had to have it finished before Disney or we couldn't watch Tinkerbelle. Not watching Tinkerbelle *rarely* happened! -smile-

So, back to laundry. Recently on Mary Janes Farm, I asked if anyone would like to swap a clothes pin bag for some vintage aprons. Terri responded and the bag at the beginning of this post is the one she made. It's just beautiful and made of heavy duty material that should last me many years. I like the bright, cheerful colors that sing Laundry Day! Terri is an amazing seamstress and farmer, check out both of her sites, each linked to her name.

I like laundry days and last year Zen Habits had a great suggestion to use a "laundry day" to purge oneself of old tasks, chores, etc. In other words, get that to-do list in a bit more ship-shape order. It doesn't quite accomplish having a daily schedule, but it does help get one in gear and tackle the jobs that seem to pile up. I think I'm going to go back to a schedule, both weekly and monthly and I'm going to use the Zen Habit of one laundry day a month to purge.
I'm also going to arrange the weekly schedule to suit me but I'll keep Monday as laundry day; that just seems right.

Blessings ~ laundry and laundry day ~ clothes pin bags ~ memories ~ family ~ chores ~ slowing down ~

Cat Head Biscuits Recipe

This is the molasses, yes, it is homemade, in the enamel saucepan on stove top. I think enamel makes for a better end product and I know for sure it's easier to clean!

I learned how to cook and bake by watching the women in my family. From the time I was old enough to eat, I was old enough, almost, to watch Mom, Grandmothers, Aunts in the kitchen, at either the stove or sink. Grandmother didn't have an icebox but had a cellar and spring house where foods were place to be kept cool. Aunt Bonnie had an icebox, later a refrigerator, but still had a cellar. We've also got a cellar but needs clearing out, a hot day job, so I can begin storing food again. Dave wants to put wine there as well and that's a good idea as it's always cool but never freezes.

Daddy's Mother, Hattie Gay Hamrick Bennett, was born in the 1800's and all of her life, used a wood cook stove. I well remember the time when she got the wall mounted, old fashioned telephone hung as well as remember Daddy holding me up so I could put the ear piece to my ear while he talked into the mouth piece. Ummm...you do know these were two separate pieces, right? -smile- Her ring, three long and a short, let the other folks on the party line know who was being called. Everyone kept up with everyone else's business because they would all run to the phone and listen in to the conversation. One soon learned not to put anything Very Personal over the phone line!

It's just been since we've lived at Thistle Cove Farm that Aunt Esther has gotten a private line. As recently as the late 1990's, she had a party line and, same as above, folks would rush to listen in whenever the phone rang, no matter for whom it rung. -that makes me smile so I'll leave it written that way-

This is the molasses, with a pinch of baking sody, aka baking soda, to be stirred in and made a part of the whole.The sody and 'lasses are beginning to fizz. Anyway, at a tender age, I was allowed to help bring her kindling, wipe and set the table; all chores designed for young hands. Truth be told I was probably more in the way than much of a help but, at the time, I was in my element. Our womenfolk have always tended to home, hearth and family, have made a life for themselves taking care of husbands, children, spinster sisters, wayward brothers and anyone else who wandered across their path and needed a resting place.

It was Grandmother Hattie Gay who influenced me the most in my biscuit making. To this day, I make cat head biscuits, the old fashioned way, without a recipe. As a matter of fact, that's what we're having for lunch today - cat head biscuits, thick sliced black pepper fat bacon, macaroni salad, milk, water, coffee. My 1914 Acron stove works well for her age but the tops of my biscuits don't brown as nicely as the bottoms. I've not noticed the flavor is affected though and no one else has complained so I must, still, be doing something right.

According to Joy of Baking, flour was once spelled flower and dates to a time when mortar and pestle were used. Some folks still hand grind their own flour but I buy mine in bulk.As best I can, here's the receipe. Make sure your flour is fresh, as fresh as can be. I use baker's flour but perhaps you have your own favorite brand.

Cat Head Biscuits

Ingredients:

2 cups sifted flour

2 tsp. baking powder, more or less, generally I use more becaise I never measure my flour so always end up having to use a little bit more of everything to even it all out

4 tablespoons butter, shortening or corn oil -not vegetable oil though, always use Real

1/2 tsp. sea salt

about 3/4 cup whole buttermilk. Please. Not the low or no fat stuff!

I don't sift although some say it makes for a lighter product. Well, okay. I do sift using my fingers but not a sifter. I figure why dirty up something else?

Cut in shortening or butter using hands or fork, doesn't matter. I always use a fork so I can spear some of the worked dough for a taste sampler. Love cookie dough as well -smile.

Add buttermilk gradually, stirring until soft dough is formed. Turn out on lightly floured board and lightly form into circle, just enough to shape.

Roll 1 inch thick, or thicker...I usually make mine thicker.

Cut out with 2 inch floured biscuit cutter, I use a tin can, cut out both ends, that used to hold something but I can't remember.

Bake in a greased metal pan in a 400 degree oven for 12-15 minutes or until done. I cook by sight and my old 1914 Acorn stove is a bit cranky so it, usually, takes a lot longer for me.

Makes 6 biscuits if you've done it right plus a little left over for sprinkling with cinammon and sugar or snacking...the dogs and I like raw dough.

I serve with real butter, sometimes home churned butter, sometimes churned butter from another woman who churns. Also on the table hot 'lasses whipped up with a pinch of sody, as told above, or home made jam - strawberry, cherry, blackberry or, my personal favorite, blueberry and damson conserve. Most always, there's a goodly serving of peppered thick sliced bacon on the side...what's breakfast without a little pork fat, eh? And, yes, for those inquiring minds...as a matter of fact, I do butter my biscuits before pouring the hot 'lasses over them. It's okay though, it's not like I eat like this but once every so often.

That's about it, try it and let me know how you like it or give me your favorite biscuit recipe. Let's face it, even poorly cooked or baked food, served with lots of love taste better than fast food thrown over a counter. But when good food is cooked or baked with love...that's amore!

Blessings ~ cat head biscuits ~ hot 'lasses ~ home churned butter ~ memories ~ womenfolk ~

Cat Head Biscuits

How many hundreds of times have I watched my Grandmothers, Aunts and Mother’s hands deftly turn raw flour, shortening and buttermilk into biscuits? With the addition of a little sugar and vanilla that same mixture would turn into melt in my mouth sugar cookies.

In my earliest memories of Grandmother Hattie Gay’s kitchen I am seated on the 6’ long bench hand carved by Granddaddy, my elbows propped on the table, drinking in the sights and smells of Grandmother’s bustling endeavors. Grandmother made cat head biscuits...the kind of biscuits that would see a man through a day of cutting timber or laying railroad line. Her biscuits were huge, more like tomcat head size, and for a little girl of 3 or 4, required both hands just to lift them from plate to mouth.

She always had a churn of butter going so when those biscuits made their way out of the wood fired oven there was a mound of butter waiting to be slid between bottom and top. On special occasions she would have some black strap molasses heated on the stove, into which a pinch of baking soda had been whipped. Once the 'lasses foamed, the biscuits were torn apart and that hot ‘lasses poured over both sides. It was only when I was an adult that I heard the phrase that fit, “to die for”.

Aunt Bonnie’s hands could turn out a pan of cat head biscuits as well. She, like her mother, would use fresh ingredients, a wood fired oven and make the same miracle. Aunt Bonnie had the rolling pin that her Grandpa Samp had carved for his wife using a solid piece of poplar wood. Even so, Aunt Bonnie never actually rolled out the dough, but rather patted them into a round shape and took her tin can and cut out the biscuits. She said the more you worked the dough, the tougher the biscuit. The little leftover bits she would pull into a longish shape, sprinkle with cinnamon sugar and tuck in the bread pan alongside the biscuits.

Mother doesn’t make cat head biscuits. She likes her biscuits a little less doughy and a little smaller. They taste just as good but, somehow, my eye and my mind are at war with each other. It just seems like such a waste of effort to butter and ‘lasses what should rightly, to my mind, be a ham biscuit biscuit. You know, one of those cute little biscuits made by beating the dough 300 or 400 times.

I, as you might imagine, make cat head biscuits. When Mother and Daddy visit, I do try to remember to make a couple of ham biscuit size biscuits but my hands reject the betrayal. It is always an argument to get my hands to pat out thinner dough in smaller sizes. Too often my hands are the victors and the loss is my mothers. When I bring the biscuits to the table, I see in her eyes a slight disappointment. Once again, I have failed her and we are each reminded of the differences between us.

My parents have a snapshot taken of me when I was 6. I stare defiantly into the camera and am wearing a cowgirl outfit complete with hat, boots and twin six shooters. I’m seated on a pony attached to a carousel and the owner had interrupted my daydreaming long enough for whom – Mother or Daddy? – to take my picture.

I always wanted to be a cowboy and live on a farm (never a ranch). I wanted to tend to animals, fix fences, work a garden but never hang curtains, vacuum rugs or wash dishes. On top of the betrayal of not wanting to be a “girly” girl I also made cat head biscuits.

My mother has often despaired of me over the years; but she and I are also alike in many ways. I share her tender heart toward animals, children and old people, her love of books (especially the Bible), putting up (canning) the garden every year and her dislike of wasting anything.

As importantly, I share her hands. Side by side the older and younger hands speak silently to decades of honest work, of loving play, of making a life for our families and ourselves. In her case, she tries to keep her nails manicured; I simply try to keep mine trimmed and clean. In the years I’ve lived on our farm, I’ve had nail polish on exactly one time but I do wear good gloves and that helps. Working with the sheep also helps as the lanolin works its way into my hands and, eventually, softens them somewhat.

I don’t think Mother understands my love of the farm, the mountains, my horses and sheep. She questions why I do the physical labor necessary to keep the farm going. My lifestyle puzzles her much, I imagine, as I did when she was trying to tame an unruly tomboy into a ribbon and lace little girl.

It is not in our physical looks that we are alike either. She is dark haired, brown-eyed and turns a lovely golden brown in the sun. I am her exact opposite; I am blond, green-eyed and sallow skinned. Rather it is in what lies below the surface that bonds us more tightly than death could separate. We are both strong women with strong opinions, strong likes and dislikes, strong love and hatreds. It is in our strengths that I find I am, after all, my Mother’s daughter. I look at our hands, Mom...our hands and our hearts.

Blessings ~ Mom ~ cat head biscuits ~ hot 'lasses ~ home churned butter ~ hands and hearts to do the work God sets before us ~

Day's End, Tuesday

Oh My Gosh. Daylight savings time was the master plan of Ben Franklin but he must have been a pencil pusher, no way could he have been a farmer! When you're out in the day, it's easy for your body to acclimate to sun time but when everything switches to DST, the body's natural rhythms are thrown, totally, off!

The days still start much the same; up at first light, make a pot of coffee and then to the sun room to give dogs and cats their morning treats, listen to preachers on XM radio, prepare for the day, make notes on what needs to be accomplished.


I love this plant against the windows, especially on a rainy, overcast day. I keep a good many houseplants and they all require a good bit of attention but to have green, growing things in the sun room seems necessary. Simple treasures bring such great joy and the work is made worthwhile.






Abbie, though not in this photo, snuggles on my right side while Miss Kitty curls on my lap and Gracie snuggles on the left side. Miss Kitty and Gracie both enjoy being brushed but Abbie will
growl if I so much as wave the brush in her direction. Gracie and Miss Kitty both are hogs for attention and will talk and talk and talk...if I pause in stroking them or brushing them. They are harsh task masters and vocal in both their pleasure or displeasure.








Every morning, geese fly on their appointed rounds going from someplace to somewhere else. They honk their encouragement, calling out to each other and me, the earthbound human. I always run outside to take photos and wave at them. I wonder if they are amused at the little human, waving to them, calling out encouragement, telling them to be safe, stay together and return at their soonest. Sometimes they fly overhead so close to me and to the earth, I can hear the beat of their wings...thrump, thrump, thrump...as they keep time to something I can't begin to hear.
A robin sat on the tree limb, watching me as I watched the geese. I'm sure to provide much amusement and entertainment for God's creation; probably even God Himself.

The clouds come pouring forth over the mountains, into the valley, and are So Beautiful my breath catches in my throat. In the matter of only a few minutes, I can watch the clouds fall over then roll through the valley as we're all encased in beautiful fog.

Today, the horses needed hay so I got out the tractor and went to the hay lot. I go amazingly slow, my time is my own and I'd rather go Very Slow than be a farm statistic. Almost two years ago, omeone we know was killed in a farm injury. He was setting out round hay and, somehow, someway, the round bale got away from him, rolled on him and crushed him. Yes, I am Extremely Mindful when I use the tractor for anything but especially setting out hay. I doubt I'm going much more than one, perhaps two, miles per hour.

Here, I'm backing up to the round hay bales, preparing to spear one to move to the pasture.

I always pause to see who else is doing what in the valley. It's too far to see, perhaps a quarter mile, but, because of the pasture, I assume it's Rees' men on the 4-wheelers. They are checking to see how many calves were born last night; they will also tag and vacinnate the calves to give them a better chance in the world. In the background, our little red volunteer firehouse stands waiting.

Abbie, my faithful co-pilot, rides with me on the tractor. Nope, not at all safe but, as mentioned before, I go, perhaps two miles an hour, a crawl really, so I let her ride with me. It breaks her heart for us to be separated so I try to prevent that whenever possible.








Here, I'm looking backward to see if the round bale has unloaded successfully. It takes me far longer to set out hay than it does a man to do the same job but I'm happy with my schedule, with my pace. I have nothing to prove, only to get the job done without injury to anyone.















The sun was breaking through as I headed to the pasture so this photo is out of sequence. It's a beautiful view of the valley though so wanted to include it.















When the sun finally came through it was glorious! This photo taken looking through the round pen, where I work horses, back towards the house. Because of the dip in the land, the barns aren't seen but, trust me, the barns are there as well as farm office, granary and livestock scales.















Don't you just love happy surprises?! Gaynelle, a quilting buddy, came by this afternoon with a hand crafted gift. She's made me a fleece throw, one with white sheep, yellow quarter moons and stars on a red background. The back of the throw was also red and the whole thing is simply enchanting! You could have knocked me over with a feather! Gaynelle does lovely work and is always, quietly, doing things for people. Perhaps she thinks word never gets around but it does, Oh Yes it does! She's simply one of the nicest people you'd ever want to meet and has a sweet smile. Come to think of it, if you're headed here for Sheep Shearing Day, you will meet Gaynelle. She'll be here, selling her quilts, some paintings and, perhaps a few other hand crafted things. Just introduce yourself and chat for a while; you'll be glad you did!




Blessings ~ Gaynelle ~ farm chores ~ SUNSHINE! ~ hay ~ a hot bath or shower ~ but Not Daylight Savings Time! ~

Summer Afternoon, Summer Afternoon

Since mid-June when I started preparations for my MIL's 95th birthday party, it's been a roller coaster ride. Her birthday was the 23rd but we celebrated on the 28th and had about fifty people with all save seven near or distant kin. The birthday girl is seated on the right and her friend, playmate and cousin since birth, Tece, is seated on her left. Tece is one family name and "Sitter" is the other; seems like "sitter" was the only way another family member could pronounce "sister". Don't you love old family stories and connections?

This is the newest member of the clan, Nicholas, son of Beth and Michael. Nicholas, hopefully never to be known as Nick, is almost a year old and a delight. But then, he would be. He has the Very Nicest parents and two of my favorite people in Dave's family.

Dave and I took a couple of days off and headed to Winston Salem for some Much Needed R&R. Along the way, we saw these two-humped camels next door in Bland County. The landowner moved here from Florida, or so I've been told, and bought or brought camels. They appear to be molting so perhaps he doesn't know the fiber is desired amongst hand spinners.

There are two hummingbird feeders on the front porch and it's one of our daily joys to sit on the front porch, catch up on our day, watch the humming birds and drink a glass of wine. I've found two humming bird nests and brought them to the house where they rest in our sunroom and are a delight. Both nests are made from fiber, some call it horsehair, from our American Curly horses and are tiny, perfect examples of God's creation doing what it does best...glorying God by doing what He intended.
Like the poet Henry James said, "Summer afternoon, summer afternoon. The two most beautiful words in the English language." And I agree even though summer afternoons, and mornings, are filled with work. I awake at, or near, dawn, listen to the birds for a while, think over my day, pray a bit, then roll out of bed. House animals need to be let out, fed and quieted with a treat then I head to the barn to tend to the barn cats and kittens, feed the stallion, check the mineral buckets, eyeball all the sheep and horses, walk the barn lot and, in general, eyeball the immediate area for anything that looks out of place.

Today I headed back to the house and started making lime pickles and will post photos and a recipe later. I've only been home a few days and am playing catch up with my own work, family and farm. Mother had knee surgery and I went to cook, clean and help with the garden. While I was there I did a bit of spring cleaning as well as visited with Mom and Daddy. Both are still very active, Daddy is the Board of Supervisor member for his Amelia district and Mom is on the library board. They instilled in all three of their children a Very Strong Work Ethic and it pains us to "sit and do nothing". Idle hands are the devils' tools so we tend to keep busy. In the summer we have gardens and can, freeze or dry food for the winter; in the winter we quilt, do needlework, knit or keep busy with church work. Daddy takes seriously the Biblical admonition to "help widows and orphans" and gives generously from his garden and orchard produce.

I feel sorry for people who don't have meaningful work in their lives. Meaningful work is a blessing and a gift, both to oneself and to others, keeps one healthy, makes one wealthy and staves off trouble.

Blessings ~ meaningful work ~ family ~ God's creation ~ garden produce ~ rest ~ Summer afternoon, summer afternoon ~

Spring Flowers, Snow & Apple Pies

March came in like a lamb but has behaved like a lion. We've had sunny days of 50 degree weather, snowy days of 25 degree weather and wind chills to bring those temps down to low teens. Last Saturday it snowed, then melted, snowed, then melted all day long. If it had snowed continuously, we would have had five inches of snow. As it was, drifts were more than a foot deep and made for slippery driving on our way home from Bristol.

Dave and I had cabin fever so drove the seventy-five minutes to Bristol where brand new stores are located. Our favorites too! Books a Million, TJ Maxx, Best Buy and several restaurants. We're used to driving to Johnson City, TN, a drive of more than two hours, when we needed to break our cabin fever. Bristol is much, much closer and, almost, just as much fun.

I made two apple and blueberry pies; we ate one and gave the other to Jim Conrad from WCYB TV. It's the Fox affiliate in Bristol and he was here Friday past to do a story on the farm. Jim is a great guy and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves even though the weather had decided to turn back to winter. It was 40'ish, rain/sleet and maybe a bit of snow but animals still have to be fed and chores completed. Jim said he works in all kinds of weather so, for the morning, we made a good team.

Flowers are peeking up from Mother Earth even though Father Time says spring is still a week away. I want to run out and protect the little darlings but they seem to be managing quite well without me. A honey bee has braved March to get an early start on honey making.

Seed catalogues are arriving and I've already bought some sunflower seeds. I want to start them in early April and will use egg cartons that will be transplanted directly into the ground and will decompose as the seeds grow.

Sheep Shearing Day is 12 April. I visited Clinton yesterday to order some sheep minerals and ask him to shear for me. He's knee deep in lambs, I believe the count is upwards of 300 thus far. I'm going today to help him bottle feed the orphans; I've got severe lamb fever.

If you're in the area, make plans to visit us on Sheep Shearing Day. This working day on the farm is open and free to the public. Lost Arts Guilds members will demonstrate and sell traditional Appalachian crafts. We always have a great day; be sure and wear comfortable, warm clothing and footwear. Bring a camera and bag lunch, this is a great family day at Thistle Cove Farm.

Blessings ~ rain ~ snow ~ sunny weather ~ pies ~ spring flowers ~ the hope of spring ~