Covid Journal, Day 300: Home Front

25 and clear this morning, with a heavy frost.

I am listening to the impeachment debate as I work today. These politicians certainly like the sound of their own voices. The arguments will not, I think, sway anyone's opinion or vote. They are talking for the record, to be sure history has their name and what they thought and said, and to promote and protect their own careers. Cynical? Yes, I suppose I am. I think I have been more productive doing laundry and cleaning house today than these people have been with their long-winded speeches.

But enough. They will do what they will do, and I will continue to clean house and sort laundry and enjoy this bright but cold day.

Yesterday warmed up a little in the afternoon, and I finally got myself out there to plant the remaining spring bulbs. Why do I procrastinate like that?? Well, I know the answer to that: I don't like to be cold, and it hurts my knee to dig. Pushing down on the shovel, standing on uneven ground...am I whining? Anyway, the bulbs are planted and I hope they have time to establish themselves before Spring. I planted snow crocus, winter aconite, snowdrops, and a few others, all early bloomers that I have lacked in my gardens. I so want some Lenten lilies; maybe I can get some of those this year.

I cooked another turkey, and this time decided to can all of it except for 1/2 of the breast. 

It's handy to have canned meat in the cellar, ready to use in soups, casseroles, and the like. I can quickly fix a meal without having to thaw it out. I should have canned some of the deer meat but most years it seems to come at a time when I am so busy that I can't even think about taking the time to do it. And this year, we were out of jars too. I am happy to have this turkey meat done; now I am cooking a bone broth with the carcass and will can that as well.

Owl image from Wikipedia

While I was outside yesterday I heard a screech owl. I was so excited and surprised, because it has been a long time since we've had one around. Larry heard it too, a sweet, tremulous little voice from deep in the woods. I do hope he will stay around. 

According to the Book of Days, this was the date in 1752 that the British Parliament voted to change the start of the legal year from March 25 to January 1. And they "adjusted" the calendar by changing the day after September 3 to September 14. And just like that 11 days disappeared. Why the adjustment? This was the year that the old Julian Calendar was replaced by the calendar we now use, the Gregorian Calendar. Until this date, some countries used one calendar while others used the other, resulting in a great deal of confusion and "double-dating" on legal documents. Even now, scholars sometimes struggle with exactly what date an event might have occurred. The Gregorian calendar seems to be working pretty well, at least for the Western world, for the last 250+ years. But maybe one day someone will come up with a new system for counting time, and then where will we be? At least back in the 1700's they took a gradual approach to implementing the new calendar, so people had a little time to adjust. 

Would that we could make the next 7 days magically disappear from the political calendar so that this dark time in our history can be over and we can move on as a country.  But as my mother used to say, if wishes were horses we'd all be riding, so I'll just keep busy here, keep an ear on the news, and pray that this week will be peaceful and the inauguration uneventful. Keeping the home front on an even keel is about all any of us can do right now, so I will hope that all is calm wherever you and your family are.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Covid Journal, Day 299: Goodbye, Powerhouse: Fred Powers

29 this morning, warmed to about 40 with a little sun this afternoon.

Fred Powers, telling tales at a storytelling festival, the first time I met him.

I was stunned and so sad to hear of the death of my dear friend, Fred Powers. Fred was a force in this world, a man who started work in the coal mines on his wedding day, went to college while working full time as a miner, retired from mining to become a middle school teacher, and went on to earn his Master's degree while teaching. He became a storyteller while he was a teacher and traveled extensively telling the story of his life as a miner.

Thousands of adults and school children learned about the rigors of mining through Fred's presentations. He brought the tools of his trade with him, and often this was the first time people had ever seen or even heard of the kinds of tools necessary to a miner's existence. He earned the WV History Hero award and published a book or two of his stories. He was always working on new stories. His nickname in the coal mines was Powerhouse--he was a powerful man in more ways than one. The name followed him into storytelling.

With Fred--in the yellow shirt--and other West Virginia storytellers at a storytelling event. 

But wilth all of that, Fred was about the most humble person I ever had the privilege to meet. He didn't think he was smart--although he certainly was--and he worked hard to learn and explore new ideas. We spent many  hours together on the storytelling trail, often sharing the same stage, and frequently just hanging out with other storytellers after performances to talk and laugh and just be together. Fred was never one to demand the limelight; often he just sat back and listened, which is after all the mark of a good storyteller. His wife often accompanied him on his travels, and began doing presentations of her own on Appalachian games; they were a good couple, sharing Appalachian culture wherever they went.

I learned a lot about coal mining from Fred. When I met him I was already collecting some mining tools and telling a few stories from my husband's childhood in a coal camp. Fred was my go-to man when something puzzled me about a tool, or I needed to better understand some aspect of mining. We did a few presentations together and talked about doing more of them; our work complemented each other. Now that possibility is gone, and now telling the stories and singing the ballads will always remind me of my missing friend and the pleasure of listening to him. Fred's stories were always insightful, weaving humor, grit, determination and hope even when the story was about near-death experiences. What a storyteller. What a man.

Goodbye, my friend. You had a big, big heart, but in the end that heart just wore out. Your light has gone out of this world, and you will be sorely missed by all who were lucky enough to know you. 

If you'd like to see and hear more about Fred and his work, this link will take you to his website. Be sure to scroll down to watch the videos. 

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Covid Journal, Day 298: Of Pigs and Seeds and Beans

28 this morning, overcast and frosty. We actually saw a little bit of sunshine yesterday, such a change from days and days of gray weather. Today we're gray again.

What a weekend. It was time to dress out the hogs, and that means lots of work. Our neighbor raised one for us with his; we paid for the pig and for feed, and Larry did the feeding occasionally when the neighbors were away. We thought to do them around Thanksgiving, but life got in the way. Saturday the weather looked good so the guys went ahead with it. My job came later, after the meat was cut up. I seasoned the sausage, and packed all the cuts into bags and vacuum-sealed them. Really, my part of the whole process is the simplest and the easiest. Of course, there was a lot of cleanup to do too. Larry is one of the messiest men on the planet, so I was having to practically follow behind him with disinfectant and paper towels. But it's all done, exccept taking the hams and bacons to the slaughterhouse for curing and smoking.

My other main goal of the weekend was to get some garden seeds ordered--the ones that I will want to start in the greenhouse. I ordered a little greenhouse on eBay too, similar to the one I had some years ago that's easy to set up. I'll still use the small ones I bought last year, but need more room than that as I'd like to start some herbs ad flowers this year.

Today I am canning beans--pintos and little red beans. This is something I like to do every winter, and with free gas and plenty of jars on hand it's cost-effective. I also cooked up a turkey over the weekend and got it picked from the bones and frozen for later use--such a handy thing to have on hand. I made turkey salad for sandwiches with some of it, adding white grapes and chopped apple to the mix. So delicious. Right now I've got bone broth cooking from the turkey's carcass, and that will go into the freezer too. As you can imagine, the freezers are just about full. 

In between these tasks I've been listing on eBay, trying to get through some piles that have been waiting on me. And I finished my book, Olive Again, by Elizabeth Strout. This is the followup to her book Olive Kitteridge. While I found both books engrossing and very well written, I'm not sure I really liked the main character, and can't say I came away from the stories feeling somehow better or improved, as I think a good book should do. I'm reading yet another book by the same author, The Burgess Boys, and again, a well-written story, excellent character development, and yet these people just leave me cold. The stories are all set in Maine and New York City, so perhaps that's why I can't connect with their problems and their lives. The people are so far removed from the warm and friendly people of Appalachia, and when it comes to cities, well, I am truly out of my depth. Still, good writing is good writing, and I am enjoying the reading.

Mostly what I've been trying to do is ignore the news as much as possible, although it's difficult to do. These are unsettled times, times that make me grateful for my little haven in the hills. I am praying that we get through the inauguration with no more violence and death. Am I hoping against hope?

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.