Fair Time

 

It is July and it is fair time.  I was always a pretty active participant in the fair, bringing goods and winning ribbons was lots of fun.  That was forty years ago.  The fair has changed considerably in more recent times.

It is still the fair, but it is no long run by the county and therefore not a “county” fair.  It is the Whidbey Island Fair run now by the Island County Port Commission.

During the transition from one system to another some important things were neglected, the major one being the booking of the carnival folks.  We always had the fair around the middle of August when things were hot and dusty.  Now the fair is the middle of July, much too early for an agricultural event.

What happened? When the port realized that they hadn’t booked the carnival, it wasn’t available and there weren’t any others available for the usual time frame, mid August.  What to do?  Well you need a carnival for the fair and the only one available was available way too early for an agricultural event.  They booked it and moved the fair up a month.

What were the repercussions of this sad move?  The carnival activities look ok, though this concessionaire is smaller and doesn’t have the usual Ferris wheel or roller coaster or hammer. The rides aren’t as exciting.

The biggest repercussion is the agriculture events.  How many folks in Western Washington (night temps in the 50s) have corn ready to show at the fair?  Only strawberries have ripened in time.  You should see the examples of garlic, beans, and squash.  Piddily. Most of the produce is just coming on and showing juvenile veggies is not what the fair is about. There were flowers, but they were early summer ones not late summer, a completely different collection than what we use to see.  Folks can’t get inspired to show their wares if they are still immature.

Cattle, pigs, sheep are still somewhat under their usual August weights.  Auctions bring in smaller dollar amounts.  Horses are ready any time as are the chickens, rabbits, dogs, cats, and such.

When I first moved to the island and lived in a Clinton beach community, the local kids and I would go on walkabout and collect shells, sea glass, seed pods, driftwood, and rocks and work on project gluing these to plywood or larger driftwood to enter the kid’s crafts.  It was fun and they treasured the ribbons given to them for their labors. Nowadays the kids are on computers or cell phones and don’t collect detritus from the beach to make beach collages.  Too bad because the exhibit was painfully lacking in interesting material.

Photography seemed to be popular with hundreds of participants, but most were just snapshots without much concentration on creating a piece of art.  The fine arts exhibition was beautiful with a variety of participants, but smaller than in past years.

The usual commercial exhibits didn’t show because the attendance wasn’t high enough—no vegamatic.

We usually go on the first day of the fair in order to see the flowers and vegetables and baked goods at their best, before the wilt and mold set in.  Baking was poorly attended, but there were a goodly number of flowers.  Vegetables were, and have been for all the years the fair  has been in July, small, and severely lacking.  It used to be my favorite department and I would always participate.  Unfortunately, this year, the weather has not cooperated especially, with temps in the 50s at night and 60s during the day and rain to damage much of the goods.

My students produced an educational project that garnered a blue ribbon.  I won two blues and a red.  Many of my students achieved the blue ribbon and some the best of category.  I am proud of them.  The judge was fair and did write critiques for them to read about their work.  It is good to compete as you put your best foot forward and work on painting harder.  The rewards reinforce their attempts. Not everyone goes home happy, but most are happy.  I will crack the whip next year to get them to compete again.

All in all, I enjoyed my work time at the fair (4 hours) as I got to see old friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen in years, many of whom I have know as long as I have lived here (almost fifty years) and one who I have known since high school.  It becomes a reunion time.  Some of the kids from the beach collage are parents and grandparents now.  It is good to see their development.  Some of the folks ask questions and one family had only lived here a week.  They were really enthusiastic about the country fair never having been to a small, old fashioned one.

I had my Fisher Flour Mill scone which I have had at the fair as long as I have lived here.  When I was a little kid we went to the Puyallup Fair, which is officially the Western Washington State Fair and had a scone at the Fisher booth.  My sister and I would collect coupons off the flour sacks all year so we could each have a free scone with strawberry jam using the coupons.  I am told the line is very long now, though I haven’t been to that fair in years, too commercial. We don’t get free ones any more, however.

Without a doubt I enjoyed myself and maybe I should work to make it a better event.  We need to keep these small fairs going, they are dying out in America and they are really what the county or country fair is really about. You should seek them out and visit.  They are truly a part of rural America.

PS:  See my award on my website https://theruralgallery.com

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Crabbing Season is Here!

crab omleteWow! Crabbing season just started and we were gifted wild Dungeness crab yesterday.  My husband, sweet soul that he is, picked it all while I was at work yesterday.  So this morning we are in for a great treat, Dungeness Crab Omelets with garlic herbed chevre cheese.  I even got busy and made quick bread cinnamon rolls to go with it.  Living in the lap of luxury!

Crabbing season generally starts with the first of July or thereabouts.  My sister and her husband go out, and this early in the season, generally limit, which is five crab each.  That is a lot to cook and a lot to pick, so they get out their big turkey fryer kettle and the propane burner and do it in the yard, many crab at a time.  The cooking doesn’t take too long that way, but the cleanup of the boiling process takes some energy and time.

Picking is the time consuming.  Dungeness crab is probably one of the easier kinds of crab to pick, but I can only manage to clean one about every fifteen minutes. If there are several to do, you usually end up with some cuts and abrasions as a result.  The reward is you get to snack on the crab while cleaning.  We usually keep a little dish of mayo handy to dip in.

Once finished, you have this unctuous, sweet, mildly fragrant (with slight umami taste), white meat and legs that are beyond compare to any other crab I have ever tasted. Yes, it is better than king crab, snow crab or any kind we have access to.  Close in taste is the northwest red rock crab which is almost impossible to extract its meat.

Breakfast was all we had hoped it would be.  Needless to say, we ate decadently and are thoroughly sated.  Envious? You can do it too.  All you need is a boat, crab pots, a strong back to pull the pots, a large kettle to cook the crab, lots of time for picking and moments of pure joy eating.  Prep time: very long.  Eating time: minutes of pleasure. The alternative is to pay $35 a pound and worry about freshness.

We are luck to live where this is all possible.

The Race to the Finish

old woman

Remember when you were a kid?  Time seemed to drag on and on.  When you had to wait for Mom, it seemed like she was gone for days instead of hours.

When you are two days old, today is half of your life.  No wonder when you are five and your playmates aren’t around, time really seems to drag.  Remember having to wait at the table until everyone finished eating?  You couldn’t get out of there fast enough, especially if the food wasn’t something you liked.

When we are children, summer days, waiting for family or friends, these things take up a larger percentage of our lives.  By the time we are five, summer vacation takes up about 5% of our life, i.e. 1/20th of our life.  At this point in my live 1/20th would be more than four years.  Yikes.  That would be a long time.  Hopefully it would be filled with fun rather than waiting for friends to come out and play.

Now I am toward the end of my time.  Summer, the time that in the Puget Sound Basin of the Pacific Northwest, is the only time we can expect some reasonable weather.  The sun will generally shine and there are about three months of decent weather.  The remaining year is either dark, wet, snowy, cold or all of the above.

If I were to be generous, I would say three months of tolerable weather, the key word here is tolerable. This seems like such a short time.  If I harken back to the three month summer vacation mentioned earlier, and compare it to the days I have spent living, it is a little less than .3% of my life, not the 5% of my early days. No wonder the good weather seems to last such a brief time, it is just a flash in the pan.

My days, now that I am partially retired, seem like a moment.  I cannot finish anything I set out to do.  I have more time to do chores and projects now that I don’t work full time, but it seems that I have less time to do everything.  I know, you’re thinking, she is older and slower because she is older, that’s the reason she doesn’t get much done.

Not true.  I may move slower, but I do accomplish some chores in record time.  If a project takes a month, it is such a small part of my total life, that can I finish in .1% of my life?  Too little time to accomplish that?  If I were ten years old, that would give me eight times the amount of time to finish it (.8%)!

I think you get my point.  Time flies when you are getting old.  I look back on some event that I think happened six months ago and realize that three years has passed.  Friends sold their home and it seems like it was yesterday, but it was two years ago.  A friend passed away and it has been six months and I still haven’t sent a card to their family, thinking it was only a short time ago.  Shame on me.  I didn’t forget, I just felt I was still in the proper time frame to acknowledge their loss.

When you are racing for the finish, it really seems to fly.  I suppose if I were in poor health, rather than wanting to try new things, go new places and meet new people, it may drag.  I have a friend who has been five years in a full care facility due to lack of mobility and the ability to take care of herself.  She finds time to turn out beautiful paintings with the only limb that moves, her non-dominate left hand. She tries to find things to keep her busy and to stimulate her mind.  I should be so lucky to have that drive if it were to happen to me.

So as I “race to the finish,” may I work hard to find those new things, places and people and enjoy them to the enth degree. I hope as you race to the finish that it is as full and wonderful as mine.

 

 

 

Hobbies

“Three grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love and something to hope for.” (Joseph Addison)

I am not sure that I have had time for hobbies in my life.  Gardening was always for food, not much of a hobby.  Cooking gourmet meals is just a way of life.  Camping? It is getting very difficult to locate places to stay when I have time available. Reading?  Probably.

What is a hobby? The dictionary says it is an activity or interest pursued for pleasure or relaxation, not as a main occupation.  Well cooking and gardening? Too much work and not enough relaxation or pleasure.  Gourmet cooking can take a lot of time and the pleasure of it is consumed in moments.  Gardening, real work with a nice outcome, but not much pleasure in the process and it is back breaking as well.

Camping used to be a pleasure for us.  Now, with so many snowbirds, the parks are crowded and you must plan six months to a year in advance to camp in your favorite place, which also happens to be everyone else’s favorite too.  I don’t buy green bananas, how can I plan THAT far ahead?

Reading.  I guess I would say that by the strictest definition of the word, my hobby would be reading. I spend a goodly amount of time doing it and I enjoy it and it isn’t part of my work, therefore it qualifies as a hobby.  I read about one hundred fifty books a year, sometimes more, reading most evenings for a couple of hours.  Since it interferes with work I should be doing, it really seems more like an addiction than a hobby.

Writing.  Writing is probably a hobby for me too.  My original goal in starting to write  was publishing books about my life, memoir.  I have written and rewritten and belabored the subjects ad infinitum. Am I any closer to my goals….NO! I have enjoyed doing it and it does give me satisfaction.  It does take some of my time though not as much as reading.

Overall, I guess I am such a busy person that hobbies have not really had much place in my life.  A sad thing.  One should have “an activity or interest pursued for pleasure or relaxation.” as the definition required.  I still prepare gourmet meals, garden, read and write, but that is about the extent of non-work activities in which I participate.  I guess I need to find a good hobby.

Lightening my load

In an earlier life, thirty years ago, I was a fiber artist.  Most of my readers know me as a painter and a teacher, which is my current life. In those early years, I designed garments, mostly sweaters, in a one of a kind series, making over one hundred sweaters a year.  I showed locally at Folklife and Bumbershoot, at the Seattle Center, galleries and at the American Crafts Council’s shows in the east.  Try taking orders from galleries for sweaters in June in West Springfield, MA when the temperature is 97 degrees and the humidity is just as high.  Winters in Baltimore with well below freezing weather was a better venue.

I handspun yarn from angora, baby camel down and silk, specialty wools, ramie and more were my specialty.  I won awards for my yarn designs.  I definitely won awards for the sweaters, some costing as much as $1000.  One was hand dyed from herbal materials including onion skins, walnut husks, chrome (yuk), alum and more.  It was an order for a man who was a historical reenactment buff.  It was handcarded, handspun, hand dyed and hand knitted in natural white, two shades of yellow from the differing mordants, and brown from the walnut husks. Remember this was in the 80’s.

Many sweaters used as many as 30 different kinds of yarn in related colors in the Kaffe Faucet style.  A full length opera coat lined with matching silk satin lining was over $900.  It was a limited market, but it did make me a good wage.  Winters were spent making and stocking inventory. Summers were spent going from show to show and trying to build inventory in between.  It was grueling.

In 1995, my wonderful husband decided that hauling a truckload of inventory to shows around the state and the country was more than he could handle.  And bless his soul, he told me when he turned fifty, I was going to have to get another helper. He mentioned that he would give me a year off to find myself, or I could continue with a hew helper.

I took the year off.  I tried to decide on a new career.  It was difficult.  What would you do if you were allowed a year to change your life? While I was trying to decide, I wrote a cookbook.  It was published that year, 1995, The Artist’s Palate, which went to a second printing. But what would I do after that?  I considered going back to school and getting a degree in Architecture.  I was already designing houses for people.  It was a good option, but I needed to brush up on my math.  I took a math class at the local community college and was flummoxed to discover it was all theoretical and none of it covered the Plane Geometry I needed.

Other options were opened.  The community college offered me a job teaching art when they saw my induction information.  I taught art there for twelve years until they phased out my department.  I moved on to other venues and still teach it twenty six years later.

But….my husband and my sister suggested that I take a watercolor class from Eric Wiegardt.  I did and I have been painting ever since. But that is not the focus of this missal.

All the materials that I had left from my former life as a fiber artist have been languishing up in my attic since 1995.  Now I received news of an artist’s and crafter’s garage sale.  I signed up.  I started with one table, but when I began pulling the materials from nooks and crannies I discovered I had over five hundred pounds of stuff.  I just gave away over one hundred pounds of fabrics I had left to a lady that sews quilts for veterans. https://q13fox.com/2018/11/14/giving-to-the-givers-whidbey-quilters-are-stitching-up-local-veterans-old-wounds-of-war/

I now am left with several hundred pounds of wool which has been washed and carded, some made into roving, to sell.  I have about one hundred fifty pounds of commercial yarn to sell. I have three knitting machines.  I cried while I was gathering it all. There are thousands of dollars of materials here which I will sell for pennies on the dollar.  It has been sitting for twenty three years.  Why am I so attached to it?

I have another life as a painter and teacher.  I have had this life since 1996.  Why do I not want to let go? I am trying to divest myself of superfluous baggage.  But this baggage was a big part of my younger life.  I must let go before all this detritus molders away in the attic.  Give it up and get onto a less cluttered life.  Be free of the crap that bogs me down.  I have had wind of several groups that look for this material, schools, craft classes for kids, educational groups, groups that have thrift store that support the homeless, the foodless.  Hopefully after the sale, I will be able to support these folks by giving them the remains of the day at the artist’s and crafter’s garage sale!

A Frugal Life

Skill with money was a lesson I learned very early.  I was given an allowance for helping in the kitchen, doing chores, dusting, ironing, sweeping, weeding, picking vegetables, picking up rocks and sticks in the newly cleared field, feeding the animals, cleaning the barn and more, $2.50 each week.  We were expected to contribute to the upkeep of the household in the form of work in order to receive any money. With my allowance, I was supposed to purchase all my clothes and shoes, tickets for the movies, etc.  Saving enough for a new winter coat or a new dress for school was difficult.  Though my friends thought my allowance was a lot, their parents bought their clothes and paid for the movies.  Little did they know that I did without a lot of things I wanted because I could not pay for them.  A trip to the movies took a week’s allowance and left me with nothing to spare.

I budgeted a certain amount of cash for each type if expenses, divided into envelopes marked clothing, entertainment, school needs, tithing, miscellaneous.  Sometimes I would have to borrow from one envelope to make a payment needed in another category, clothing being a big ticket item.  Thus I became a thrift store shopper.  The only one around when I was in junior high and high school was Goodwill off Boren Avenue in Seattle.  I can remember getting dresses there from Saks Fifth Avenue.  Some of my favorites were dresses by Lanz which was popular at the time.  Many of the clothes sold there were outdated and I didn’t want them when I was in high school. They just weren’t cool, but if you really “shopped” the store you could find some wonderful treasures. Fads and fashion were what it was all about and you needed to find the most recent craze so folks didn’t know that you purchased it second hand.  Later I furnished my first apartment entirely from second had goods.

When I was in junior high, my parents devised a method so TV wouldn’t take up all our after school time.  We were not allowed to watch until evening after chores and homework were finished.  We were given an allowance each week which included a little extra for “pay TV.”  We each got an extra quarter.  Each program was 5 cents.  Most programs were a half hour. We could watch more than five programs, but the extra shows came out of our regular allowance at a nickel each.  I saved all mine and skipped most of the programs.  My sis always ate through all her allowance.  Needless to say this plan didn’t fare very well with either of us.

The consequence of my being frugal as a child is that I now am frugal as well.  Because I can stretch a penny endlessly, I don’t need a lot of money and therefore do not work as much as most people.  This has been the bane of my life.  If I had worked more, even full time, for most of my life, I would have a better, more comfortable retirement, or even a retirement.  As it is, I tell my husband that I will have to work until I die to make ends meet.  Most of my adult life I have either been self employed or worked part time.  Consequently I have not garnered the retirement most create by working full time.  Social Security is greatly decreased and my “retirement accounts” are abysmally small compared to the full timer.

But…I can still stretch that penny.  Because I make food from scratch, can and freeze a lot, because I shop at the thrift store and seldom purchase new goods, because we do not travel extensively or have expensive tastes, the minimal retirement that we do have goes a long ways, for which I am thankful.

My parents idea of teaching me to frugal as child did not necessarily work out as an adult.  I am willing to do with much less.  I save as much as I can and spend little compared to my contemporaries, I am satisfied with little, I work hard with small resources to create a happy and prosperous home environment, not a wealthy one, but one that comes from hard work and frugality.

 

 

 

A Treat in Winter

IMG_4503It has been a while since I wrote, but winter can be a busy time.  The wind blows and the branches fall and cleanup has to happen.  The critters in the woods come out and attack the chickens and measures need to be taken to make the chickens more secure.  I lost two of my hens to a Cooper’s hawk.

It snowed twice this past week here in the maritime Northwest, an almost unheard of event for late March. It wasn’t traffic-stopping snow, but snow none the less.

The woodshed was almost empty as the weather has been colder than usual with more fuel needed for the woodstove, so I have been working on a new batch of wood, splitting and hauling.  But we ARE keeping warm.

It is also time to do all the tax stuff since the two of us have businesses that require complicated tax forms.

Gee isn’t winter fun?  Well it is, and I am just giving excuses for not writing. We do have a new customer for our card business and we have been preparing a new line of cards as well.  I had three dog portrait commissions in recent weeks too. That is always exciting.

Right now the wind is blowing like mad outside (22 mph) and the temp is in the low 40s.  I just started the stove and will put on breakfast shortly.  Winter is also the time for comfort food and last night I made one of our favorites, ravioli.

We have always made our own pasta and, in more recent times, even have a hand-crank machine to roll and cut the dough.  I made large sheets and cut out round ravioli with the device I mentioned an earlier blog.

IMG_4505Last night, however, the ravioli was a real surprise, even for me who can usually anticipate how it will taste.  I took a bite and was truly amazed at the wonderful flavor.  I made homemade ricotta to which I added homemade marinated sundried tomatoes, pesto, toasted almond meal and porcini mushroom powder plus a whole egg.  Wrapped this up in the pasta.  For the sauce, I opened a can of homemade marinara that I made last fall and added homemade cubed lonzino (a Portuguese version of prosciutto).  Sprinkled it all with parm. Served it with a Whidbey Island Winery Sangiovese. The first bite’s flavor just burst in my mouth. I was totally surprised.  I made this last time without the almonds and porcini, but they made all the difference.  Luckily I made enough so we will have leftovers for lunch tomorrow.  What luxury.

I know it sounds like a long complicated process, but having made the lonzino, marinara, pesto, marinated sundried tomatoes last summer at different times, I had all these items on hand.  The ricotta only takes about ten minutes to make and is half the price of the store bought (I use the whey for bread making or soup stock).  There are benefits to planning ahead.

I took a couple of photos, one of the ravioli airing before boiling and one of them finished in the bowl, but, oops, I had eaten a lot before I remembered to take the photo.  It was soooooo good!

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