In the Eye of the Beholder.

His face was bright as I filled his cup.

He lifted it to his lips, closing his eyes and swallowing the orange liquid as if he were drinking an ice cream cone: pure bliss.

"Ooooo, I love orange juice," he said with a liquid mustache.

I suddenly felt a twinge of guilt.  We rarely bought orange juice.  Luxuries like that seldom made it into the budgeted grocery money. I wished we could have orange juice all the time, and he would have the joyful acquaintance with this cup every morning.

The grocery store has special sales of drastically reduced items each week with one of their coupons,

limited usually to one of the item.

It is an enticement to get shoppers to visit, I suppose.

This week, it happened to be orange juice.

A carton made it into our refrigerator with eager eyes watching.

As I thought about it later, I began to question in a different perspective: are we the ones who are deprived, or are we the ones who are actually privileged to possess something only tasted by those who embrace the contentedness of simple "limitedness."

I remembered going out to eat with a family once a while back for breakfast

and when the orange juice came out, their little girl said,

"I am sick of orange juice.  We have it all the time."

She had no idea in her little mind how unappreciative she sounded,

especially to orange juice loving ears.

I began to wonder.

Is it really the "rich" who are privileged,

or are they the ones who are missing something.

By giving every indulgence to our children,

everything that we felt we didn't have or should have had as children,

are we creating a better person?

Everyday luxuries become commonplace to the one whose tongue is spoiled to its taste.

The person who sees treasures in simplicity will find a life full of unexpected enjoyment.

The spoiled tongue must wait for rare, expensive moments while plodding on in daily trivialities:

a cup of orange juice to one is a treasure in a cup to another.

I do not consider us poor by any means.  

We are well cared for and have abundantly more than we need;
I am certain my kids have lots of "spoiled" attitudes that pop up,
as does their mother.

I still have to think, though, that it has to be considered that often blissful appreciation is worth waiting for a coupon to experience,
more often than not.
It develops the sense of how really precious every good gift is in our lives.

"Better is an handful with quietness,
than both hands full with travail and vexation of spirit."
Ecclesiastes 4:6



Linking to:
Raisinghomemakers

Themodestmomblog.com

A Box from Home.

Apricots.

An Apple.

Pretzels.

Nuts.

A few fresh cherry tomatoes from the garden.

 Granola bar.

Some cookies.

They are place into that stained, square-foot compartment in random fashion,

apricots cushioning the apple from bumping and damaging its skin.

There is still room for the main course:

usually the leftovers from dinner.


I hesitate over the colorful crew and think a little prayer over them,

a prayer for my husband's day tomorrow,

something I try to remember to do as I pack his lunch,
although sometimes in my weary hurry to get to bed,
I forget.

But I shouldn't.

 He has to eat his lunch away from the comforts of home:

the kitchen table and chairs,
the sound of birds and the rooster crowing,
the atmosphere of home.

It is a quick few moments over his future day,

a recognition that he is away at work
so that we may enjoy a satisfying lunch in a home we can call ours,
sitting on chairs that have the price tags removed.

A small prayer for a large duty,

greatly appreciated although not nearly thanked enough for it.

A small thing,

a packed lunch with the power to change the world,

or

at least,

hopefully his.

Linking to these Blog Parties:
Themodestmomblog.com
Theprairiehomestead.com
Btweennapsontheporch.net

Same Mess, Different View.

My kitchen for the last few weeks...

well,
it isn't pretty.

"You bit off more than you can chew."

It's a common enough phrase, but what if it feels more like sometimes is,

somebody threw the pie into my face,

no, threw four pies into my face,
one after another,

and then handed me a napkin to clean up the mess.

It all has limited life,

counter life to be more exact,

or floor life.

It is a race against the ever breeding fruit flies,

the power of the invisible spatters of the creeping corrosion of mold.

 

 None of it will wait long.

It all demands immediate recognition and care.

And yet, still life goes on.

The little humans demand constant feeding and care.

Somehow, three square meals are supposed to go into their little bellies,
although with as much as they eat, they don't seem so little.

The big human needs his meals as well.

The magnificence of a pristine kitchen is a dream that only those colorful magazines

and homes where the people live somewhere else all day long must possess.

Someday I will have a kitchen that doesn't look like a zookeeper's workshop.

The son calls from the other room.

His dinosaur domino kit is frustrating him and he wants some help.

The oldest is beckoned to fill in for the steamy, sticky-faced kitchen maid.

The assortment of single socks that Violet has weeded out of the clean laundry for me waits in a pile.  Without their missing mates, she leaves them on the couch unsure of further direction.

  The couch wears a temporary "slip cover" since the other has been forced to take that trip to the mountain in the basement where the washer forever trudges through it's daily spins.

 Other sorted and folded pieces await their final trip up the stairs.
Little bodies are limited in their hauling abilities, so this rests on my shoulders.

I groan at the thought.

 Craft projects litter the ironing board...

while others cover the table.

 The molding fruit is sorted and tossed; the good is cooked,

stirred, a hot and tiresome job with the many others still looming and silently shouting,
"Process ME!  Process ME!"

 

The fruit is then dumped into the bag to drip,

splattering sticky purple drops in precarious heights hinged on thin legs.

 

I sigh.

Messes, messes, everywhere.

How does one ever conquer.

Then I see this.

And I realize that maybe my view of things should be...

different.

Maybe my view is spoiling the fruit that is all around me.

A garden that produced well so that we will have food for the winter as well on our tables today, yesterday, and tomorrow.

 

Organic peaches an Amish woman was willing to sell for a reasonable cost:

an unexpected happiness.

I had given up on ever finding organic peaches.

 Food for supper:

most of it we have grown ourselves,

but just the fact that we have food for supper,

something not everyone in the world has,

is something to give thanks for.

 A kitchen:

I have a kitchen:

I have a stove that works,

I have electricity to make it work,

I have counters to work on,

a floor to stand on,

I have food to cook,

I have the ability to cook.

It may not look beautiful all the time,

but it is.

My kitchen is beautiful.

 I have kids who want me to help them

who like for me to play with them.

They create things

 and that is far better than sitting idly and having to be entertained by somebody else in a digital box.

 Their messes are temporary schools of learning that will someday turn into something useful

and if I squint really hard, they are actually colorful.

The tiny pieces all over the floor

are plastic raindrops of colorful happiness.

(Okay, that may be slightly overstated about the ones on the floor,

especially when I step on them and have then sticking to my bare feet;

but pretty colors: yes, I can say that.)

 

The kids do help and do their part;

they do their jobs, what they can.

 And we do have

 socks to keep our feet warm...

even the mixed pairs I occasionally find on my feet,

when necessity demands.

 We have clothes to wear and keep us warm,

a sizable assortment of them, actually.

 We have special treats, like berries that Levi loves to eat

and are so good for him,...

and the syrup they make will be a great treat in yogurt
and on pancakes.

 

They are bottled up treasures stored away for a time when I don't feel so overwhelmed in the steam of the kitchen.

A harvest of thanksgiving in September is certainly better

than having to 'beware of  grouch prosesing' in the kitchen.

Sometimes, I get lost in the steam of life's hot oven,

but there is a better way.

"Thou are good, and doest good;

teach me thy statutes."

Psalm 119: 68

"C"

"The three P's for the week."

Yes, I know this post is titled "C".

The three P's refer to my blog name:

I will post about something Pumpkin, meaning something from the farm, garden, you know, growing around here.

Next I will post something Pie, meaning kitchen related: food, kitchen, edible or decorative, etc.

Finally, I will post something Painted, or something I've created with my hands that will involve artistic materials of some type.

So there is the explaination of my subtitle,

clearly.

So today, because I wanted to join Jenny's blog fun of writing from a certain letter of the alphabet,

I will narrow this attempt even more by posting the three categories and they will start with the letter C.

Are you confused?

Confused.

 That starts with "C."

See?

1.

The letter "C" for the Pumpkin/Farming category:

Clematis.

My clematis are blooming, or at least these two are.

I love seeing these and forgot that I had decided to plant the 'Red Cardinal' clematis with the white one last summer.

I concede that it was a chipper choice to be made conscious of.

 2.

For the Pie Category today: I am talking edible in the kitchen.

Can you see it?

The kids and I have been checking them.

Others have been checking them, too.

Did you know that cows are curious.

Annoyingly.

Although they are pretty cute, too.

Yes, see.  He's checking out how far along the mulberries are, too.

We're all impatiently checking these countless candy-like clusters of suspended mulberries.

Ripen up, little creatures!

3. 

In the painting category,

I have just that to share: painting.

Ceiling panels from the barn roof that blew off in last fall's hurricane...

(okay, so they are roof panels, but I had to get the C in there somehow).

My super-duper-handy-recycling-penny-pinching-cents-smart farmer rehung the old panels on the back side of the shed that was rotting from too much water spray and lack of sunshine.

Corroding.

 I consciously chose to count this creativity-curtailed cause a commanding challenge.

To cut to the chase: 

I chunked the fun painting for chores.

Once that was done, I mixed some of the paint that was left with a bit of left-over black from another project,

added some floor texture,

and clomped on over to another chore that had been calling.

 These ummm....

uhh...

hmmm...

chippy children climbers that are cantankerous...

for their cutting creases containing chards of chips that cause crying when creeping into feet of children.

Corrected!

If your eyes happen to wander up to the crest of the porch, 

you will notice couch cushions helter-skelter.

Cushion chaos.

Cranky old cushions had seen too much weathering

and then the puppy last fall made certain I would have to recover them this season.

The fading strapping under the cushions became easy teethers for chumpy pup as well.

My clever creative man found this heavy lawn seat type strapping

and is carefully counting the measurements, cutting, creasing, and continuing his countless ways he's come up with cure-all ideas from his comprehensive collection in his many cabins 

(sheds: cabins was all I could come up with)

(maybe man-caves would have been better).

 >CLAP<>CLAP<>CLAP<>CLAP<>CLAP<

Cushion material has been purchased and curtain call will be coming soon!

(Confidentially, the cushion coverer is mentioning this to coerce herself into the sewing chair.)

And so I leave you,

with a certain sweet photo I cherish of my most current walk with child.

 Joining Jenny's blog party on the letter "C"

at: Jennymatlock.blogspot.com: Alphabe-Thursday
Firefliesandjellybeans.com

How Much Meat is on a Steer?

People often ask me what exactly a person gets when they buy part of a steer.

It is a trick question because it's kind of like asking

how many garments a person can make from 10 yards of fabric.

Some people like stew meat

while others don't
 and prefer it as ground beef.

Some like 1/2 inch thick steaks, 

others like 1 inch steaks.

Some people like 1 lb. roasts,

some like 3.

Some want the liver and the soup bones,

some don't.

I can tell you that you'll get ten yards of fabric in it's initial state,

or 1/4 of a steer in it's hung weight

(meaning what it weighs when it is slaughtered

cut into a half and then into a quarter

and then hung onto the scale, bones and all).

Okay, so that isn't too helpful when a customer calls and wants a visual image,

so I decided last time we got a 1/4 of our steer

to take pictures and show you so it might be a little clearer,

but this is a back quarter, which has more steaks and roasts.

We usually like to get a front quarter, but the other people we went in on this steer with

had already claimed the other parts, so we went with a back this time

(The customer buys the "cow" from us by weight before it is cut up

because that is the way it is supposed to be done in our state: we are not supposed to sell cuts

because we are not a retailer.)

Okay, so here is our freezer before the meat came.

The top has our chickens we buy locally,

the second shelf is the beef we had left over from the last steer

(the left-over ground beef is in the box).

This way, I know to use up the older meat first

(because my Farmer is very organized that way) :)

Here is our quarter in the boxes it comes in.

Yes, two boxes. It seems like it should be more when you stand next to a thousand pound steer,

but this is what happens. (Of course, we don't get the bones...

we should; maybe next time).

Here is what is in the boxes:

 Ooooo, everybody's favorite!

I am determined to try making a liver pate' that my sister in law made

that I thought was really quite good,

so we kept this stuff.

Here is the sirloins, which are a good size and two per package.

 See how my hand measures up.

My husband has a very large dislike for stew and stew meat.

Usually, we would get this meat made into ground beef,

but I made some jerky that turned out pretty good,

so I hope to make some more...soon.

This is the chunky packages of t-bone and porterhouse steaks;
we get 4 per package in at our request.

Yum, I think I need to go get some out of the freezer.

We haven't had any of these in a while.

 I can't remember what I do with this guy.   I'll have to ask the resident chef/Farmer.

He always enlightens me when I can't remember what part is supposed to be eaten how.

And then there are these:

Obviously, there are only one of each of these per steer,

but there never seems to be a whole lot of fighting going on over who gets them,

so we usually have the pleasure.

And then there are the 1 lb. rolls of ground beef.

There were 52 of them in this quarter.

Here is the freezer stocked with the beef.

It usually lasts us 6 to 8 months or so,

depending on how much pork and chicken we also have

and if I pick up some fish at the store.

This 1/4 weighed in (hanging weight) at 138 lbs.

We usually charge for the cow's hanging weight

and then the customer has to pay the butcher fee.

Based on the current price of local butchers,
(prices fluctuate on the cost of feeder calves/beef, etc)

for the back quarter this would be $2.50 per lb hung weight
(if we were selling it instead of keeping it.)

(Also, we usually sell mixed halves, which is less at about $2.25 per lb.
but the other buyer specifically wanted a front quarter;
buying a half is about $2.20 per lb).

The butcher charges $.52 per pound to cut/wrap/and freeze,
so that brings the cost to $3.02 per lb.
(There is also a small kill fee as well).

So, to buy this meat would cost somewhere around  $415

(there is extra costs too: if one wants patties made of the hamburger,

that costs extra per lb,
or if you want chipped steak made,
or the meat cut extra lean.)
(A mixed 1/4 would cost about $382)

The actual weight of the meat in packages is somewhere around 90 lbs,
(from what I just guessed by looking at it, give or take 10 lbs),

so if I divide $415 by 90 I get about $4.61 per lb.
(A mixed 1/4 would be about $4.25 per lb).

Is that much of a discount, considering one could just get ground beef in bulk from a butcher shop?

If one just prefers ground beef, probably not.

But I can tell you that our beef tastes far better than anything I ever had from the store,

it is butchered at a prime age,

it does not have tenderizers in it,

it is raised on a small farm where it's care is more particular,
it gets good hay that we grow ourselves without the use of harmful chemicals,
it is not dosed up with growth hormones or unnecessary medications

(we try to only use antibiotics or medicines when absolutely necessary).

We are also moving toward raising our own heifers and making our cows all grassfed

so that we can keep the babies on their mother's milk instead of switching them to a milk-replacer.

We find that this makes for much healthier calves,

much less need to use antibiotics or medications,

and a much healthier steer and healthy, beneficial meat to the eater.

People often wonder what they get when they look into getting part of a butchered steer,
I know I would want to know as well,

so I hope this helps those of you who are curious about what you get.

For a very helpful chart on beef cuts and cooking tips for those cuts
>CLICK HERE<

 Of course, having a freezer is essential. 
The following helpful information about the efficiency of having a freezer
was found on a local Craig's List ad by the owner of Clover Spring Farm,
"Don't have a freezer to store beef? Seven cubic foot chest freezers costs only about $190 and can hold a half steer (e.g., the Igloo model FRF472 7.2 cu ft chest freezer at Best Buy). So even if you only buy a half steer one year, the freezer only adds a cost of about $0.63 per lb in that year. Average this over 5 years and the freezer only adds about $0.13 per pound to the cost of the beef."

Linking up to:
Gnowfglins.com