I woke up to gloom and drizzle this morning, a sight that would usually make me feel like ducking back underneath the covers to hibernate. (I can’t, of course, because the animals will be demanding their breakfast.) But today is different because a gloomy, drizzly day is perfect for staying indoors to make herbal jellies, and that’s exactly what I have planned: a long-overdue jelly day with my sunny friend and jelly buddy, Linda.
Using a pressure cooker isn’t as scary today as for previous generations. Use these 10 tips to ensure safe cooking.
Whenever we return from a trip somewhere, my family and I come home with two kinds of souvenirs: the real, hold-in-your-hands kind that you pick up along the way (from polished stones gathered for free on a beach in Wales to that expensive Mickey sweatshirt bought from a Disneyland tourist shop) and the intangible kind.
The morning's peace and quiet is shattered by my (suspected) Coonhound-mix Pippin howl-barking and lunging at the living room window.
The log cabin, dimly lit by oil lamps and a few small windows, bustles with activity: girls dressed in matching aprons and bonnets (and a few boys, definitely not in aprons and bonnets) kneading bread dough, churning cream and grinding corn.
When Brett and I moved to the country two decades ago, we envisioned having a sunny little orchard where we would harvest bushels of apples, pears and other delicious tree treasure each year.
I’m sorry to have been out of touch for so long, but several weeks ago my husband and I decided to unplug from our computers, TV and coffee-maker (oh, the agony) to embark on an off-farm backpacking adventure.
Beat holiday fatigue by preparing for holiday houseguests with this 12-day countdown guide.
Take advantage of online sites to promote your farm craft class or workshop.
This four-part celebration of biodiversity on my farm wouldn’t be complete without mentioning the heritage livestock breeds and heirloom plants that live and grow here.
Last summer, after much squinting to make out the smaller print in magazines and books, and much denial about how the ruthless passage of time was again messing with my once-accute vision, it finally dawned on me: I needed new glasses.
