Monday, November 1, 2010

November is brown and gray.

November is brown and gray.

Amazing how much things can change in one month. Even in one day.

Today the trees on the ridge are silvery gray. Silvery gray with a hint of brown and gold. Most of the leaves have been blown away by the wind. It was oddly comforting to hear the wind these last few evenings. Comforting in that it seems like the right time of year to hear the howling wind make her entrance. She is still tonight, but never fear, she'll be back.

This evening I made meatballs for supper. Mixed a pound of grass-fed beef and a pound of the remaining pork sausage with a couple of our precious eggs, garlic, onions and a little oatmeal. Italian seasonings and salt. Fried them up in the cast iron skillet. While they cooked I made up a quick tomato sauce out of the very last tomatoes from the garden. And olive oil. And onions. And garlic. And oregano. So very simple, yet so delicious. After the meatballs were almost done, I placed them in the tomato sauce to simmer. Sliced a loaf of baguette (thankfully we had a couple leftover from market), brushed with olive oil and toasted. Warmed up a jar of home canned green beans.

End of season meals are poignant for me. I feel sad about the end of the tomato era, even though we will enjoy the canned variety throughout winter. For now, it is done. The act of cutting up the vibrant reds and yellows is an act of worship, celebrating summer sun and compost and sweat and weed pulling.

Maybe foods don't speak so vividly to others out there in the world, but they do to me.

So I enjoyed the meatballs and the green beans. And remembered summer days, and was thankful to have a nice fire in the woodstove so that our house is toasty. Not too long ago we were so very hot, we could barely move without dripping sweat.

Now November is here and we give thanks for chilly nights and sunny days. And for friends who have generously given firewood.

On another note, we are worried about Thistle, our Nubian-Saanen goat. Maggie found her isolated from the herd this afternoon. She was dehydrated. Wouldn't go drink or eat. We aren't sure why.

Her eyes were nice and brown, so we knew she wasn't anemic from parasite overload. Coat was shiny. We aren't sure what is the problem. The other goats in the herd seemed fine.

Maggie took her into a stall. Had to place her on a sled because she couldn't walk. She gave her baking soda and water. Later gave her some karo syrup and nutridrench. When animals are dehydrated, they have to have the electrolytes balanced, and need a big glucose boost to overcome the ketosis. Maggie took charge, with the little girls' help, as I finished making our supper. I went out and took a look.

I don't know if she will make it through the night or not.

But at least we tried to do our best. Maggie cried. I did too, a little, and we said a prayer to ask for guidance. That was when I remembered the karo syrup. We l0ve Thistle. We hope she will make it. We are so grateful for the many gallons of milk she has given us, and for the sweet babies.

But after so much real tragedy and loss, we are trying to keep our perspective. Will keep you posted.

1 comment:

Greener Pastures--A City Girl Goes Country said...

You always make the food sound so wonderful. An event in itself.

I'm sorry about Thistle. I just read the other post too.