Category: Happiness

  • If You Can Wipe a Baby’s Butt

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    If you can wipe a baby’s butt, you can make sausage from scratch. This summer we purchased half of a pig from Akyla Farms. They raised ten pigs on pasture on the banks of the Skagit River in Birdsview. They slaughtered the pigs on October 30. After slaughtering, the carcasses were going into town to be cut and wrapped, but I had to go out to the pasture where they were slaughtering the pigs, to pick up the small intestines. I’d requested them as I wanted to try making sausages.

    I brought the small intestines home, hooked one end to a hose in the yard and cleaned them out for an initial cleansing. Then I took them inside to thoroughly clean them by hooking one end to the faucet and running water through them until the water ran clear. You know, if you’ve wiped a baby’s butt, you can do this. There is food matter being digested inside the small intestines, but it isn’t until this matter enters the large intestine that the liquids are absorbed and feces formed. What is in the small intestines is more like green baby spit. Ever have a baby throw up on your shoulder? If that didn’t kill you, this won’t either.

    Running water through the small intestines made me realize how amazing they are. The membrane is so thin and yet strong. Pigs and humans have very similar internal organs, and looking at and feeling the small intestines made me realize how dependent we are on these living translucent tubes. All our food goes through them and we get many of our nutrients through these tubes of paper thin membranes. A human’s small intestines are about seven meters long, or around twenty three feet. Think of a garden hose that long and how flexible it would need to be to fit inside your belly. One little puncture wound and it is all over. I’ll never look at knitting needles again. They are sharp and long enough to cause a lot of damage. Maybe knitters should wear puncture proof vests just in case they fall over on their knitting needles. If you are around knitters, maybe you need to be extra cautious.

    We picked up our cut and wrapped half a pig on Saturday, and yesterday, we mixed ground pork, ground pork belly, cooked brown rice, a bowl of crushed garlic, a handful of dill weed, allspice, cumin, coriander, pepper, and salt in a big bowl, and then stuffed the mixture into the clean small intestines. We made about ten feet of sausage. Some we formed into rings. Some we formed into links. We had no idea what it would taste like. We were not prepared. My expectations were somewhat along the lines of the sausage from the store. The flavor of these homemade sausages blew our minds away. We kept saying, “Wow!” over and over again. We had no idea sausage could taste this good.

    Making our own sausage from scratch was one of those life changing moments, like the first time I pulled a carrot out of the ground and ate it, the first time I plucked an apple off the tree, or the first time I butchered a chicken and discovered that it was nothing like what is sold in the supermarkets. I’ve cleaned baby bottoms that were a lot worse than the small intestines of that pig. So if you find the idea of making sausages from scratch daunting, remember, if you can wipe a baby’s butt, you can do it.

  • Who Made My …?

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    It all started a few months ago when I purchased two teacups at my local Skagit Valley Food Co-op. I liked them so much that the next time I was at the co-op, I asked one of the staff if they had a way to contact the Cheryl Harrison whose signature was on the bottom of the teacups.

    “Yes, she works here,” they said. Wow! That surprised me. I found out which days and hours she worked, and I met her and asked if she made pottery on request. She did, and I took some pottery that I liked and gave her the sizes of the cups, plates, and bowls that I wanted.

    I picked them up this week. It’s a delight having handmade dishes and knowing the person who made them. Each cut, plate, and bowl is slightly different. It’s refreshing setting the table and having pieces with personality.

    It’s made me think how much we’ve lost with everything being mass produced, with everything being identical. A couple hundred years ago, you knew everyone who made your clothes, your dishes, your furniture. It was either yourself, or someone in your town. Today, most people have no personal connection with the people who made the things they use every day; their clothes, their shoes, their dishes, and the many other things they use.

    One thing I’ve learned being at Bow Little Market this summer, is that if I look around, there are people nearby who make many of the things I use every day. It’s nice having a bowl of warm soup and knowing the person who crafted your bowl, and when I’m tossing a salad, knowing the person who made my salad fork and spoon. And they aren’t people who live in some far distant town, state, or country. They live nearby.

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  • Big Data – Small Data

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    There is a lot of talk about big data, about companies processing vast quantities of data to do whatever. Big data is nothing new, even to mice and chickens. They all do big data. Each of us has been doing big data forever. Our brains handle vast amounts of data. An average person has 100 billion neurons, each of which is connected to a thousand or more neurons, all sending data back and forth. There is a constant stream of data flowing through our neurons, processing gigabytes of information all the time.

    In every cell of our body, there is a copy of our entire genome, over 3 billion base pairs of information, about a third of a gigabyte of date. We have between 10 and 100 trillion cells in our body, so we have anywhere from 3.5 to 35 trillion gigabytes of data just in all the copies of our genome in our body. Our bodies do big data very well.

    It makes my use of these wireless sensor tags seem like very small data, insignificant data. They’re still a lot of fun. They’re what I’ve been looking for. I’ve wanted to know at any time, how hot is the compost pile? What’s the temperature in the hoop house? What’s the temperature in the garden?

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    These wireless sensor tags work with a tag manager you put on your home network. A single tag manager can monitor up to 255 tags. The tags are not waterproof, so you need to protect them if you’re going to use them where they might get wet. They’ll work from hundreds of feet away.

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    I have them hanging in the hoop houses, in a pipe inside the compost pile, in the chicken yard, and elsewhere. Every five minutes, they send the current temperature and humidity wirelessly. You can have them send this information from every 30 seconds to up to once every 4 hours.

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    You can monitor the tags from your computer, your cell phone, or your iPad. You can also graph the temperature and humidity over time. And you can get notifications if the temperature gets out of a specified range. For example, in my compost piles, I need to know when the temperature gets up to 170ºF. Compost piles that hot are going anaerobic and need to be turned. Whenever my piles get to 170ºF, I’ll get an email so I can attend to them immediately. It’s small, but very helpful data.

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  • Something so Sweet, so Unknown

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    Get a good husband. You’ll never regret it. My sweet husband was clearing piles of brush we had lying around way too long. He spent all day running the brush through our chipper. I’d mention the make and model, but I wouldn’t want any of you to make the mistake of buying that chipper. At the end of the day he had a huge tote bag, one of those grain bags that hold a ton or more of grain, loaded with the sweetest smelling wood chip mulch I ever saw.

    “What smells so good? What did you put through the chipper?” We went through the list of brush we had: alder, maple, birch, cherry, cottonwood … cottonwood. Yes, that is what made the chips smell so delightful. It’s like wood chips walked on by the angels. Wood chips made from a mixture of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, licorice root, and tangerine.

    Wood chips made with cottonwood is one of those life altering discoveries. There’s life before good husband, life after good husband; life before dog, life after dog; life before cottonwood chips, life after cottonwood chips. And yet no one ever talks about cottonwood chips. It’s one of those great mysteries in life no one is supposed to know about. I’ve been to countless hardware stores, garden stores, nurseries, and no one has ever mentioned, no one has even whispered, “Check out the cottonwood chips.”

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    Luckily for me, out in the woods lies the carcass of a cottonwood tree, specifically Populus trichocarpa – black cottonwood, the fantastically tall cottonwood which grows from California to Alaska. They can shoot up to a hundred feet in a few decades. I meant to cut up the cottonwood but had more important things to do, and now a forest of a thousand cottonwoods saplings has sprouted from its many branches.

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    One fully loaded wheelbarrow of cottonwood saplings will produce one full wheelbarrow of sweet cottonwood chips. These chips are so aromatic that I could see stuffing them into a pillow and resting my head on it. I’m sure I could have the most pleasant dreams breathing the lovely scent all night long. This wheelbarrow is destined for one of the hoop houses. There are ten wheelbarrow’s worth of cottonwood saplings to provide chips for garden paths and mulch around some of the trees. So get a good husband. Every day you’ll be thankful.

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  • It’s Done

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    There wasn’t a cloud in the sky all day. By early afternoon the new bridge was done. The most time consuming part was pounding out the nails on the lateral boards. We recycled the boards left when we removed an old deck. With the bridge complete, the chickens, dog, and us have an easy walk to the other side. The bridge is 1.5 meters (4 feet 11 inches) wide and 3.65 meters (12 feet) long.

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