PASSING THE SHUTTLE

Earnest in her efforts.

Iris' desire was to make a rug for her 'tiny' doll.

Iris' first rug...a weaver is born.

Magical Saturday and Sunday

The Viroqua Harvest Parade on Saturday was surprisingly well attended. Parading down Main Street, tambourine shaking against my leg, Iris' rattle never stopping its rhythm, Elsa succumbed to sleep on her Mom's back, Andy wearing the flower hat she was supposed to wear, was truly an enlightening experience. No CANDY thrown to the crowd!! no kids scrabbling frantically to fill already full bags, just lots of laughs, smiles, and fun watching all interpretations of 'harvest' time pass by. The look of joy on the spectators (young and old alike) faces was unbelievable and I must say, for me, who really does not like parades, it was the finest parade I can remember.

On Sunday Freddie and I once again took the canoe, and spent three hours on the river. It was a wonderful Fall experience, of color, smells and profound silence. We encountered only one group of people the entire time, three kayakers eating lunch on a bank. Never did we see another soul during our time on the water.

The sun shone the entire time, reflecting on the water, exposing shadows here and there, and superbly highlighting the rock walls.

Lazy day on the river.

No matter where you cast your eyes, there seemed to be a frame of exquisite beauty which my camera truly could not capture.

I could hardly look up from the water, where leafs floated and turned and tumbled in a slow lazy dance of demise. What a glorious way to complete their journey. (Although this is a photo of the water, it could as easily be looking upward into the sky.)

A brief break.

Coming up on the covered bridge.

Our time on the river was contemplative, meditative, and at times filled with Freddie's stories about the old timers who used to own land here and there. Also about the days of his youth when he and friends spent time at one rock wall or another.

It was a magical day, and often I felt like as though I was passing inside a perfect poem...

EXPOSURE

Writing has always been a great part of my creative life, especially writing poetry. However, writing, like all of my other creative endeavors has taken a back seat to many things this summer from getting our rental ready to re-rent, the garden, the grapes, etc. I have deep regrets about this, but must admit that the creative urge has been in the 'sleeper' mode with all that has been going on. Still there was one small window of creativity that emerged in the early part of the summer.

Several months ago the Pump House, a regional art center in La Crosse, put out a call for photographers and writers. The photographers were to send in a photograph from which 25 would be chosen for a new exhibit. The writers were to send in a sample of their writing, and 25 were also chosen. At that point, the selected photos were randomly sent to the selected writers who were to use the photo as inspiration for a written work.

When I received my photo (by Marty Sullivan)...

I thought, oh my God, how am I ever going to write a poem about this????? (My poetry is generally more nature and/or philosophically based.) Still, I let it sit in me for several days, giving it focused thought every now and then. When I finally set to writing, I penned a work that I actually liked a great deal. It follows:

It's Not Unusual

in this Mississippi River town
where old men need to redirect
their farmer years;

where factory farms steal
like behemoths
over land
once toiled
by down-through-the-ages
families;

where idle hours pile up
like long forgotten yard debris,
tangled and slowly rotting,
emitting an almost
indiscernible stench;

where old men are lost
in the jumble
of hard-to-reach memories
that lie like detritus
in the far reaches
of their fallow minds...

No longer do the plow, the disc, the haybine
religiously tail the tractor
across productive land;

no longer does that tractor
creep and sputter across verdant fields...
it sits idle there
alongside the weathered, broken barn,
or on occasion
when lonliness grows to round bale size,
he starts it up,
putts his way to town...
sits among the younger men,
nurses a cold one
telling stories of what used to be.

No, it's not so unusual
in this Mississippi River town
to see an old tractor
bellied up to a bar.

The writers did not know what the photographers had entitled their photos, but Marty's title was 'Time for a Cool One'

so I believe we were on the same page.

The Pump House had a reception this last Saturday evening. The photographs were projected on the big screen while the writer read their work. It was an interesting creative project, which they called 'Exposure: Words from Images'

I am anxious to rekindle my writing life, along with my weaving life, too. I long for the quiet, dark solitude of winter now.

THE NEXT GENERATION

For quite some time now, I have been searching for a child-sized floor loom. I finally did find one, made in Japan, entirely of steel. It was really very nice, the only draw back was it cost upwards of $900. Now as much as I wanted Iris to have a 'real' loom, (she has shown a lively interest in weaving) I just could not see myself purchasing such a costly item...not even for myself who now owns floor large floor looms, that have sat unused for the last two months.

After seeing a Structo Artcraft small table loom at my friend Evan's home, I started on a search for one of them. Finally on eBay I found one at a somewhat decent price...surely far below $900. Evan kindly came and spent three hours with me on Tuesday so we could set up the loom. There seem to be a couple of 'missing' parts, but it functions well enough for now.

I wanted to wait until her 5th birthday, which happens to be today, to present it to her. Actually I did so yesterday, Wednesday, when she spent the day with me. We went out to the workshop and when we approached the door I said there was a surprise inside for her, and I covered her eyes. Oh how I wish I had my camera at the ready then, she was speechless and in awe.

She picked up the rhythm so quickly, and much to my surprise already knew some of the vocabulary...having picked it up I assume from watching me. I asked if she wanted to make a small bag for herself, but she immediately said she'd like to make a doll rug.

She enjoyed choosing the colors for the weft, and really wanted to complete a work right then. She said, well my dolls are small, especially Tiny Baby, and this size 'rug' is just right for her. She did with some encouragement from me, however, decide we'd wait until next week to complete it and take it off the loom.

How fun is this...and it moves along quite rapidly!!!

I am thrilled and blessed at her interest and her capability.

COMING TO THE END.................

It was 24 degrees here this morning. Luckily I covered anything that I wanted to save, because all else is rapidly turning black already, and it is still early morning.

My beautiful zinnias are no longer vibrant and vivid, but already pale tan and limp. They did, however, offer a magnificent summer display. (I did cover a smallish patch last night, we'll see how they survived.)

My melon garden was exceedingly prolific regarding muskmelons, prolific and as sweet as can be. My watermelon plants yielded merely three and I found that two had been possessed by critters....eaten out and hollow. I did have one surviving watermelon, weighing a whopping 16 #s, as weighed by Iris while playing store.

I saved the melon for the day Iris and Elsa came, and decided they would get a kick out of being greeted by 'him' as they came in the door.

and they surely were!



I have been experiencing a great deal of difficulty each day as I'd go to the garden to pick produce for our evening meal. It was so hard to decide upon just what I'd pick and prepare, as I really wanted a bit of everything. The garden was lush and yielded so much good food this year.

Zucchini patties.

Kale sauteed with leeks and potatoes, all just harvested.

And the tomatoes!!!! I have had so many tomatoes that I regret to say that the demise of my still loaded tomato vines due to the frost, does not really trouble me, as I have already processed upwards of 200 #s...and there must be 50#s scattered between my kitchen and enclosed porch.

I can't really numerate all of the ways we have enjoyed this year's crop, but here are just a few.

A leek and tomato quiche.

Broccoli frittata scattered with fresh tomatoes.

Fresh roasted pizza sauce tops this pizza complimented with a tomato, feta, fresh basil salad.


And as apple season is now upon us.....

fresh apple pie before baking,

just out of the oven,

and before it hit our plates piled high with Organic Valley fresh whipped cream.

I must say this summer's eating has been gastronomic, but there is now a bit of longing for the simmering of the stew pot. Soon!

LOVE AND LABOR

In my June 11, 2011 Blog Post, I showed the following photo of a tomato plant my dog had slashed, and I repaired with duct tape.

This photo is the plant today.

It has flourished, and produced many tomatoes.

I picked this two pound tomato from the Duct Tape Plant just a few days ago. When the season is over, and the plant finally gives up its well-earned life, I am going to dig beneath the soil to see exactly what happened at the site of the taping. What a will to produce, and what delicious tomatoes came from that.

On another note, a bit of a sidebar, Iris and I picked a bouquet of flowers the other day and came upon this 'Siamese twin' zinnia. We thought it quite unique.

And Labor Day did elicit some labor from me as I cleaned and cored 30 #s of tomatoes to roast into pizza sauce, which I then canned into 12 pints.

But we also had a great time on the Reserve with good friends. Hiking, picnicking, and hiking some more.

Gordon, Freddie and Olga on a beautiful trail.

For some reason this view reminded me of the views out west.

Gordon, Olga and me...nearing the end of our 3 hour hike. We were reluctant to end this magical day of exquisite views, good food, good friends and good exercise.

A view of the Kickapoo River from the trail.

Home to finish the labor (of love), my tomatoes.

A wonderful Labor Day spent not only with good friends, but with the bounty of my garden.

LET THE HARVEST BEGIN

Maintaining a vineyard, especially a two acre organic one, is work beyond description. However, come late August early September, all that changes. Yes, there is still 'work' to do, plenty of it, but the work now seems pure pleasure.

There is nothing quite like the harvest!

I have been testing the Brix (sugar content) of our grapes for about a week and a half. Each variety has its own Brix level for harvest, for example the Edelweiss, which we harvested this past Saturday was at 15. The Sabre Vois should be in the 20's as should the Bluebells, which are a table grape, and the St. Croix is best in the upper teens.

Last Monday Bob Starks, from Vernon Vineyards, came to look at our grapes in anticipation of buying them. He deemed them far ahead of his grapes, and said they were really beautiful. (Wow!! I thought, finally a perk!) He wanted them on Saturday.

So Friday was spent collecting and gathering buckets. (Per usual, I way over estimated how many we'd need.) Bright and early Saturday morning we were ready to take the empty buckets to the vineyard.

Using buckets keeps the juices which drain out and are lost in the traditional grape picking containers. (Like those 30 yellow ones up in our barn we bought years ago at the beginning of this venture.)

Freddie is ready!

Although this photo appears grainy, it really is not...it was so early and so foggy that it looked just like this. The dew was heavy, and my shirt soon weighed several pounds more as it soaked up the water.

And they truly are beautiful!

Edelweiss is a wine grape, but it once was considered a fine table grape, perhaps a relative of the white Concord.

We spent nearly four hours harvesting the Edelweiss and took off for to Vernon Vineyards.

Vernon Vineyards sits atop a lovely ridge, the Tasting Room surrounded by 10 acres of Bob Starks own grapes.

We delivered our grapes on Saturday where he placed them in a cooler. He invited us back the next morning to watch the first pressing of the season, with our grapes. He said coffee would be on. So, bright and early we found ourselves back at the winery...

where our grapes were loaded onto the scale...

and although I was hoping for close to 700#, I was happy with 432, after weight of buckets subtracted.

Initially the grapes are dumped into a machine called the De-stemmer...

which separates the pulp from the stems....

...and shoots the pulp/juice out a 3" pipe, ready to go into the crusher.

This machine presses the pulp and extracts the juice used for making wine...

at the end a large black rubber bladder is inflated and further presses the grapes to get all of the juice possible.

The juice, which turns a darker color at this point from oxidization is channeled into a waiting bucket...

where it is stirred. Some of the sugar is added at this point.

The juice ends up in this tank, where it is monitored for settlement, and awaits the next step in its journey to the wine bottle.

Another perk...Bob said he was paying us an additional 5 cents per pound because the quality of our grapes was so good. Now if only we had a ton of them!!

Honestly, I kind of felt like we were on some kind of vacation, it was so much fun.

We will probably spend next weekend harvesting our Sabre Vois, St. Croix, and Frontenac, which we will bring to Weggy's winery.

Our Bluebell crop, which appears to be the heaviest of all our grapes this year, is already sold and will be harvested by the people to whom we sold them. (Although I may not be able to resist grabbing my grape fork (device that severs the bunch from the vine) and assisting.