Seasons Change, Winter Comes

Looking out the window this morning, it's hard to believe that less than a week ago, I was running around outside in a blouse and silly little shoes without a jacket on. Thanksgiving was an absolutely gorgeous autumn day with sunshine and temps in the 50s. However, by the time we wrapped up our Thanksgiving gathering in the early evening and headed home, we were driving through an all out blizzard with about 10 ft of visibility. Welcome to northern Minnesota.

It seems that this snow is here to stay for the long haul. We have about 8 inches in the woods now and the bay is doing its very best to ice over. With snow in the air every day since Thursday, I doubt we'll end up with nice skating ice like last year, but that's okay - wouldn't want to get spoiled.

I'm not the world biggest cheerleader for snow and winter, but I will admit that it's a heck of a lot nicer to look out the window and see a winter frosted world rather than a dead, brown, blah one. The new winter scene outside also lends a certain legitimacy to my recent round of Christmas shopping. And since the car is still in the shop (yay me! #sarcasm #CanIStartAKickstarterFundraiserForThis?!?) I don't have to hyperventilate about winter driving yet. (And only mildly feel as though I'm on house arrest.)

It's been a decent week back at the grind. Monday was basically a wash (damn you Cyber Monday and your distractions!), but yesterday I actually got down to business and am thisclose to wrapping one of my major November projects. Woo-hoo! Also, let's all note that I've posted 13 posts so far this month. That hasn't happened since May!

Has the snow found you yet?

 

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Best of All, We Love the Fall

The autumnal equinox came and went on Saturday and already we're noticing the night creep into more and more of our daylight.

I don't mind the longer evenings though. Andy and I often devote an hour or so after work to hike through the autumn forest looking for grouse until twilight falls and by the time we return home, it's nearly dark. The darkness reinforces the idea that autumn evenings are for quiet, peaceful projects . . . or movies and popcorn.

Although we've had a bunch of blustery, autumnal weather (aka, down right cold and wicked) lately, we've somehow managed to avoid a killing frost. The garden keeps chugging along, but since we've had such minimal rainfall in the last month and significantly less daylight, things like cucumbers aren't plumping up overnight like they were back in August. While I have a rather sadistic wish for all of the pole beans to just freeze already one of these nights (the thought of washing, chopping, and blanching another gallon or two of green beans makes me rather weary - although I know I should be relishing the bountiful harvest), I'm still pulling for the Brussels sprouts which are still teeny tiny.

Even with the lingering garden produce, it's clear that autumn's here in earnest. We're all set with firewood for the year so other than some restacking, we won't have to devote much time to that autumn chore. Still there's a sense that it's time to start making preperations for the winter ahead. Andy and I like to walk around these days and say knowingling to each other, "Winter is coming." It makes us feel very profound.

Source: thechive.com via Amanda on Pinterest

I have to admit, apples get a higher ranking than pumpkins as "autumn food of choice" in my book. Already we've been noshing on apple cider and some local apples. Hopefully within the week, I'll have time to make a batch of applesauce.

I always feel the most myself in the autumn. External demands on my time decline and I get to reclaim my wardrobe of sweaters and vests (but never together . . . I do not do sweater vests.) Besides, I think it's easier to think clearly when the air is crisp and the leaves start to fall. While I miss the wildflowers of the spring and summer, I find the starkness that comes after the fall color and before the snow beautiful in a simple, timeless way.

“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.” - George Eliot

What do you love about the fall?

Be sure to link up your autumn themed post as part of Margot's September Blog Party.

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Out of Season Cookies

If the vast amount of asparagus we've been consuming lately is any testament, we eat pretty seasonable around here.

But when Andy wanted chocolate chip cookies the other day . . . just when I'd pull the last container of what was once these guys (below) out of the freezer . . . 

 

Well, suddenly, these guys seemed like a really good idea:

I haven't made pumpkin chocolate chip cookies in ages (if ever), but the recipe I tried out from King Arthur Flour produced lovely soft, yet chewy cookies. While spring days seem more inclined towards delicate shortbreads, slender fingers of lemon bar, mini fruit tarts, and other pretty, petite sweets you might serve at a tea party, the combination of spiced pumpkin and semisweet chocolate has been just the right cozy treat for some rather cool, rainy days.


Seasons, schmeasons.

What have you been baking lately? 
 

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A Second Fall

For a long time, I've believed that we have two springs every year. It's a Northwoods sort of thing. The first spring comes when mud replaces snow. The second spring comes when green nubs of grass push through the brown grass and the teeniest of wildflowers begin blooming.

This year, I've decided we also get a second fall. The first fall comes with all that expect blue skies, nip in the air, and glorious fall colors. But sometime in the last week or so, we transitioned in our second fall, when the skies cloud up, the nip in the air turns downright chilly and the leaves are all but gone. Now we're in a dead time, an interval before snow.

Honestly, I think it's a lovely time of year.

Andy and I took a break from cutting, splitting, and stacking firewood yesterday to head out on a deer scouting forage. Warm temperatures stretched so far into October this year that it's hard to believe it's the end of October and nearly Halloween, let alone almost deer season. Apparently the deer don't believe it either; there's very little deer sign out there right now, although our cooler temperatures as of late should get the deer moving around again. 

But even if there are no deer to be found, there are still plenty of reasons to be out in the woods.

I wanted this funky lichen to be "British Soldiers" but I don't think it is.

This morning I woke up to thick, fluffy snowflakes falling. A dusting of snow settled on everything. 

It's time to enjoy this second fall as long as we can before it slips into a colder, snowier type of season.

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The Cyclical Nature of Seasonal Employment

If you're lucky enough to be employed in this part of the world, chances are, you have some sort of season work. A few resorts, like the one Andy works for, have year round business, although he'll be the first to tell you, they're all shocked if someone books a cabin in April and November. And of course there are certain year-round positions that must exist in any small community: grocery story owners, doctors, the mail lady, gas station employees, etc.

But I have always seemed to end up with the seasonal job: the one that goes from May through September, or at the very latest, into October. Although my job now is full time and pays quite well, it only lasts for just over 5 months of every year. Not only does seasonal work make for interesting, creative finances, it also perpetuates the feeling that you should head off to school -- or some place new -- every autumn.

In fact, there's a certain cycle, a certain rhythm to each season. It begins with shock, horror, and more horror . . . oh wait, I made a graphic to explain it all better:

You're welcome.

So, as I was saying, there's a cycle to this seasonal employment thing. The cycle repeats its twice a year: once during the "on-season", again in the off.

It begins with shock. This settles in around the end of April. The inner monologue goes something like this: "Nearly time to go back to work again. Crikey where did that come from? Wasn't it just October?"

The shock is quickly replaced by horror. "I have to back to work?! What about baking bread, knitting sweaters, listening to NPR, and counting "not going broke" as one of my highest accomplishments? I was just getting settled in. You honestly don't expect me to go deal with real problems and real people, do you?"

But once you get back in the swing of things, say, after a couple weeks or so, some excitement builds up. It's going to be a great year. There's so much possibility, so much to do and conquer. At long last, out of the stuffy old cabin.

Unfortunately, the excitement is tarnished by terrible realizations. Realizations such as: you don't like people, you have no idea how to coordinate volunteers, despite your 26 years of life, you remain deathly afraid of the telephone. Expect these realizations to start trickling in around the Fourth of July.

As those realizations stop trickling and start gushing, you enter a state of blase. Blame your piss-poor attitude on Mercury Retrograde. That's what I do. 

But those grey skies can't stay grey forever and blahs are eventually pushed aside for a long, calm period of acceptance. It is what it is. It's a job. It pays. And there are way more good days then there are bad. It's a pretty sweet gig after all.

Which brings us back to shock. The state in which I currently rest. Somehow September got gobbled on down and now we're in October, less than two weeks away from the season's close. How did that happen? Wasn't it just May? I'm not ready for this. I can't handle it. Oh, the horror. The horror!

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When the Frost is on the Punkin

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My sweaters miss me

If I was the kind of person who made fashion statements, sweaters would be an italicized, bolded part of whatever that statement might be.

Since before I can remember, sweaters have been a staple in my wardrobe. As a March baby in northern Minnesota, my parents had plenty of time before summer's arrival to swaddle me in sweaters during infancy. The sweater trend continued through childhood and today my hangers and drawer still overflow with a rainbow of sweaters in all sorts of fibers: wool, cashmere, angora, mohair, cotton, even some *gasp* acrylic fibers.

A few years back, I started to take my own knitting a little more seriously. Now there seems to be a trend towards my knitting a sweater each winter.

Although I love the opportunity summer provides for wearing swingy skirts and dresses and ridiculous shoes, I really feel most like myself when I'm wearing a sweater.

Each morning I open up my drawers to determine what I'll be wearing. And each morning I glimpse a stack of sweaters tucked away in the drawer's far corner. I can't help running my fingers over their familiar fuzziness. Ever so briefly, I wonder if I should pull one out to wear before I realize it's too blasted hot to even think about wearing a sweater. I can't help but miss them. I miss the snuggly way they cling to my body. I miss their breathability. I'm pretty sure they miss me too. 

Minnesotans might complain about the cold, but the truth is, I'd take the cold over tropical dew points any day. I'd rather have a sweater on then be sweltering in my swimsuit. 

It's moving into my favorite part of the year. Berries are ripe, the garden's reaching harvest point, and soon? Soon it'll be sweater season again.

What's your favorite piece of clothing? Happy Monday!

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The Day I Thought Would Never Come

Spring has sprung!

Must be spring

If the mud splatters on the back of my pants are any indication, it must be spring. Spring around these parts means mud (a lot of it!) and although the snow banks are still being measured feet rather than inches, the road to the cabin is quickly turning into a mucky quagmire. So much for the romantic allure of dirt roads . . .

Beside, the world slowly turning slushy and mushy and mucky, there are plenty of other spring "indicators" around the cabin. It's mating season for red squirrels and let me tell you, if you thought squirrels were obnoxious to begin with, let me assure you that the everyday squirrel has nothing on the sex-craved squirrels. To make matters worse, we're getting to the bottom of our sunflower seed supply and the squirrels are getting rather desperate about their dwindling "free lunch" option. We're witnessed several (sunflower seed) bar brawls in the last couple days. Real nice . . .

Getting ready to brawl

I finally got around to placing our summer seed order last Saturday night. Although we can't safely plant outside until around Memorial Day, plants like peppers, tomatoes, and flowers can get started indoors in early April. In no time at all (okay, maybe like four months), the porch with host scenes like these:

Andy's been hot to trot for the two of us to head out a canoe trip and somehow on Saturday he convinced me that it would be really great if we went on a weeklong canoe trip the second week of May. (I must have been dehydrated, hungry, or otherwise gullible.)  Because who does like sleeping on rocks in 42 degree drizzly weather? I'm consoling myself by deciding a spring (brrrr!) canoe trip is the perfect opportunity to by those adorable Wellingtons I've always wanted.

If those don't say "spring" I don't know what does. Andy says they're not practical. However, we proved long ago that never the twain shall meet when it comes Andy and my opinions on what constitute an awesome boot. 

Happy Spring all! What does spring bring in your parts?

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The Great Blueberry Quest

Here in northern Minnesota we often joke that the year is divided into three seasons: winter, mud season, and a week of summer. In truth, I’ve never found a corner of the earth so fundamentally tied to the seasons – Western Europe’s half-assed winters always left me feeling confused – and there are plenty in sub-seasons in this neck of the woods. In spring we have mud season, then the springtime of the first blossoms. While summer may be a season almost entirely devoted to blueberries, it too has its own set of sub-seasons: scouting for blueberries, picking blueberries, and eating blueberries.

After the Ham Lake Fire burned through the area in 2007, blueberry picking has been phenomenal. Everyone has their own “secret” picking spot. Of course, some “secret” spots are more popular than others. We’re lucky enough to have a small blueberry patch right behind the cabin, but whenever we’re out in the woods, we’re looking for an even better berry patch that’s truly secret.

We look for a place where the soil’s sandy, where the sunlight’s a bit filtered to allow berries plenty of sunshine and just enough shade to grow nice and plump. People are often dismayed when they return to a patch they remember doing well a few years back and finding slim pickings, to say the least. Blueberry patches are often found where jack pines thrive and as a result the patches can cycle out fairly quickly when the baby jack pines grow taller and start to cast too much shade over the berry bushes. It always pay to keep your eyes peeled for a new patch, because there's no guarantee that the same spot that offered great picking this year will be as marvelous in the years to come. Last fall when we were out grouse hunting, Andy and I spotted a spot that we thought might offer plenty of good pickin’s this summer, so yesterday we hopped in the truck to go check it out.

We turn off the main road onto an old, bumpy, skinny, rocky, logging road. After stopping once to push aside some blown down sticks, we parked in front of a fallen tree.

After scrambling through the tree, we forded the river.

We walked a little more. And were warmly rewarded with a scene of blueberry fields forever.

Last night in the patch behind the house, I picked about a cup of berries. But the majority of berries, especially at the patch we scouted yesterday, won’t be ready for a couple weeks yet. I’m excited!

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