Quick post to show some of the fall happenings here at the farm.

First, the pear trees are coming along nicely – they started dropping fruit in mid-August.  The Anjou pears were delicious, but didn’t give much juice for cider.  The smaller pears in the photos are some variety of Forelle or Comice – small and sweet (I’m leaning toward Forelle, but since we didn’t plant the trees it’s not easy to tell).  We still have the Bosc and  and what I think is another variety of Anjou but I’m not sure.

Anyway, I pressed a few gallons using the tiny hobby press I bought last year.

 

So after that round of pressing, I decided to up my game and build a larger press.  I started with a 20 ton shop press from Harbor Freight.  Then I created a series of boards and cloth wraps to do the actual pressing.  I still had to do the grinding/scratting with the smaller old system – I’m going to either create something much larger this winter in the shop or I may simply purchase the larger scratter. Obviously I will eventually need a large scale machine but for the next couple of years I’m just practicing my recipes and craft so we’ll see.

Although the grinding phase was still slow, the pressing with the new system was incredibly fast.  I got a gallon of cider on the first round – once the grinding was done, maybe ten minutes.  Significant increase.

 

And because I don’t have an Instagram account which is really where I think you are supposed to put food pictures, here’s my Labor Day meal, cooked over the open fire.

Fall is here!  Hunting, football and hunting!

Just a question for people who think they get the flu from getting a flu shot.
Did your kids get measles, mumps and rubella from their MMR shot? How about lockjaw from your tetanus shot? Small pox? Anthrax? Plague?
I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure this logic is flawless. 

I’ve spent nearly a year of my life at Fort Leonard Wood, MO, despite the fact that I have never been permanently assigned here. I only mention that fact because I’ve seen many editions of the weekly newspaper, The Guidon, sitting in the newspaper boxes around post. 
And it always has an advertising sticker in the same spot. I can’t be the only one that has noticed it creates an ethnic slur. I first noticed it in 2013, so it’s been going on that long. Maybe put the sticker in a different spot?

The old homestead has been doing well so far this year.  I managed to finish cutting all the trees from the area that will eventually be the pear orchard.  Right after I pull all the stumps.   On a related note, if you’re in the market for some seasoned pine firewood, make an offer – I have a LOT.  Like, seriously, a lot.  I’ll deliver if you’re near me.  Not even joking.

Here we see Mr. Snake.  I don’t bother him in exchange for him being allowed to eat his weight in varmints every day.

The fruit trees are coming along well- the new trees really took off and the existing trees are producing a great crop for the fall.  Here’s a picture of Lucy holding every piece of fruit we picked on the property last year.

 

 

And here’s a sample of what this year’s trees are doing.  Turns out you have to care for your trees, not just ignore them and hope things turn out OK.  It’s like raising kids, except sometimes bugs and fungi cause problems.  Actually, it’s more like raising kids than I thought.

I’ll give you my method on burning a pile of green brush without using gasoline.  I just bring an armload of dry firewood down down from the woodpile, build two small fires in both edges of the brush pile and feed it like you would a regular campfire and it will take off.  These pictures are about 15 minutes from start to fully involved and the entire pile burned in about an hour and a half.

No waiting for it to dry – that was brush from one tree that was still standing earlier in the day.

Goats doing go things.

Stacy tending to the raspberries.  She did a great job and we had a bumper crop of them this year.

Meanwhile, Layla just likes to watch the farming going on.

 

We’re prepping the soil for the vineyard by tilling it and adding lime to raise the pH so we can plant grape vines next spring.  But, tilling means you have to pick rocks.  Lots and lots of rocks.

I’ve had to spend more time away from the farm than I really want to this summer and we have a toddler to look after, but I think I’m still getting it done.  My boots are starting to look like real boots should, and that gives me more satisfaction than you can imagine.

I call this “notes” on traveling when it’s really just going to be me complaining about traveling.  I recently had to fly for work and, long story short, it took me almost twice as long to fly to my destination as it would have to just drive in the first place.  If I had just gotten a wild hair across my butt and kept driving past Portland toward Missouri, I would have made it several hours before the flight that eventually carried me there.

Just to give you a small idea, when I arrived at Portland for my first flight, they were literally so flustered by what was happening that they just put me in a cab and sent me to Boston.  It only got worse from there.

I physically arrived at a total of six airports but only flew out of three of them.  No fooling.

My last flight didn’t do much to calm my nerves.  As I boarded the plane, I couldn’t help but notice what I hoped was condensation and not smoke pouring out of the vents.

 

But, my fears were allayed when I heard the pilot break radio silence in order to calm the people of the plane.  Turns out Matthew McConaughey flies for American Airlines.

Alright, alright, alright.  You tell me that wasn’t McConaughey.

Interesting note – YouTube appears to have automatically fixed my video which was shot vertically with my iPhone.  Sometimes I do love technology.  Especially when it seems to be saying, “We know what you wanted, idiot.  We’ll take it from here.”

Another fun fact:  I arrived at St. Louis assuming there was zero chance I would ever see my bags during my stay, but there they were.  Apparently, my two bags and I took three separate planes into St. Louis and my bags beat me there by several hours.  Should have hid myself in my suitcase.

And in case you are wondering, Missouri is still Missouri.  Search for a bookstore and this is what you get:

 

 

 

 

 

In case you’ve ever wondered how many acronyms the Army expects you to understand, here is a partial list of every acronyms and abbreviations I encountered in the first few days of a course I attended. Keep in mind I chose not to write down anything with a number in it, such as M4.  Only because it would have filled the cover of my book too quickly. 

If you snore like a poorly tuned chainsaw and your wife wakes you up with her patented “snore arrester” device (honestly, it’s just a salad fork she uses to stab me in the bicep) eventually you’re going to be tempted to try Breathe Right nasal strips. They’re totally cool because they have the dual purposes of preventing 2:00a.m. stabbings as well as serving as very effective birth control. 
However, if you go out on your brother’s boat and fall asleep in the bow and get sunburned on your nose, you’re going to want to re-think that nasal strip for a bit because it will tear sunburned skin. Ask me how I know. 

I was buying lime recently (have to get that field from a 5.5 to a 6.0 pH before I plant in the spring) and I noticed some, shall we say, interesting math on the bag.

Admittedly, it’s been a long time since I took a math class, but my best recollection is that it would be difficult to have more than 100% content of any individual ingredient here. Did football coaches come up with this math using their patented “Give me 110%” talks?  Or is this more of a physics question? Or perhaps even philosophy?
Also, number 20 sieves are where it’s at. 100s can eat it. 

Yes, I’m aware there is definitely a logical explanation for this. I’m also aware that it wouldn’t be funny.  Do you really want to be the killjoy that spreads the real explanation, or would you prefer to be the person who just makes up a silly reason?

I’d like to write a bunch of funny things for my blog today, but I can’t.  I just can’t even.  Why?  Oh, how about this:

Honestly, I think I’m beginning to understand why the people of the Southwest have little to no sense of humor.  Or, maybe I’m wrong and they do have a sense of humor.

I’d love to write funny things and just enjoy myself a bit, but it’s too hot to even go outside my crap hotel room (the Yelp review for this place is not going to be kind.  Assuming you can Yelp an Air Force Base).  I’d go to the pool, but they have hours similar to the Caddy Day pool hours.

If I can’t be funny, I can at least complain about the negative aspects of traveling.  And, did I mention the heat?

At any rate, I flew American on the way out here.  I won’t bother to get into the details of how airports turn normal people into raging jerks (I’d use much stronger language, but I’m trying to tone it down for this blog).  Like, nobody can remember how Americans line up – we all look like a third world bus station when they start boarding announcements and zone 1 is the only zone that’s been called and I’m in zone 8 and I’m the only one left in the airport before they bother even calling another zone?  Really – the boarding process consisted of Zone 1 (everyone else) and Zone 8 (me)?  Weird plan.  I don’t even understand it – the plane isn’t going anywhere.  Your seat is the same no matter how many old ladies you knock down to jump into Zone 1 from Zone 5.  Apart from being able to board early and stuff your stupid giant wheeled “carry-on” suitcase into the overhead and take up all the room, there is absolutely no advantage to getting on anywhere except last.  You can even make them check your stupid “carry-on” right there at the gate so you don’t have to go to baggage claim at the end of your trip like the rest of us peons.

 

Sorry, I blacked out there for a minute.  Where were we?

 

When we were landing in Dallas – one of the 57 connections I needed to make that day thanks to using the world’s most incompetent travel agent – I had my headphones on and was generally ignoring the events surrounding me.  I fly enough that it doesn’t even register when we’re taking off or landing – I’m usually absorbed in a book or music or a movie, whatever.  Except, this time I was shaken out of my complacency by the plane taking a sharp turn to starboard and then climbing rapidly.  It felt like we were trying to out-maneuver Maverick and Goose while staying above the hard-deck.  It was enough that I took my headphones out and looked around.  A pretty big deal for me.  I assume first time and nervous flyers were crapping their collective pants.

Now, keep in mind that back in DC, where this fiasco of a flight started, we sat at the gate and extra 30 minutes because “Something was wrong with the plane and we thought we were going to switch planes, but we got the problem fixed so now we have to reload all the data back into the plane before we can take off.”  Sure, it’s not, “Gremlins have stolen an entire wing but we’re going to give it a shot anyway,” but it wasn’t a real confidence booster, either.

Back to the aborted landing, the pilot gets on the intercom and says, “We got a little close to another plane, so we’re going to go around and try it again.”  Try it again.  This was clearly not the varsity squad from American.    Then on our second attempt at depositing everyone back on the ground where humans belong, we came in hot – like, I think we’re sideways and that doesn’t seem right hot.

But I’m alive, and I’m ok.  And when I arrived at my hotel, I found an elderly gentleman wandering the hallway with his television remote, begging for help to make the Spanish voices go away on his TV – he claimed they were speaking English one minute, then he accidentally hit something and they were in Spanish.  I helped him locate the SAP button and the look of relief on his face said he wasn’t just concerned with the TV, but that the full scale invasion by Mexicans he’d been hearing so much about on Fox News was not happening, at least not today.

And that’s it.  That’s been my week.  I’d love to get out and see something but I’m afraid of melting for real.  I think that’s a legitimate fear.  People who live here should just abandon the place and start over somewhere else.  Anywhere else.