Last Friday I felled a third ash tree. This one didn’t go as planned and I needed the help of a second chainsaw (the first got caught in the tree when it insisted on going the wrong way!) and the tractor when that second saw also got caught. I managed to get the tree on the ground and got clipped by some of the upper-most branches in the process when my rope was five feet too short for the task at hand. (My son, Rick—the urban forester who once worked in felling trees—then told me of the 1-1/2 rule. Always pull from a distance 1 and ½ times the height of the tree to make sure you are clear of those upper branches.) Anyway—as the Black Knight in Monty Python’s Holy Grail said—it was only a scratch.
Friday afternoon I trimmed off all the branches and cut most of the main trunk into 18-inch lengths. On Saturday morning I got the rest of the main log and nearly all the branches over 2-inches in diameter cut. Unfortunately, one of the chainsaws quit on me and I couldn’t get it started again. Luckily, I had a second ready to go. I spent a goodly amount of time picking up the smaller slash and using it to line the path. I figure if I can build up the downhill side of the trail, I won’t feel like I’m about to roll over in that direction when I take the tractor out that way.
Sunday was a day off for the local Audubon Society’s picnic. Funny how we all ended up talking about our ailments!
Monday, I took the errant chainsaw down to AJ’s Power Equipment in Mansfield. The guy at the service desk said he wanted to try a couple of simple things before he put a tag on the machine which could have taken it out of commission for a week or more. While he went into the workshop, I picked up a hardhat, face screen and earmuff combo used to protect your noggin while tree felling. (My earmuffs are better at cutting the noise, but the scabs on the top of my head were begging for a hard hat.) I heard that magical roar of a chainsaw revving up in the workshop and started feeling hopeful. Sure enough, the service dude came out and handed me my saw.
“She’s good to go,” he told me. “Just flooded badly enough that pulling the starter and letting it sit overnight weren’t going to help. We used an air line to blow the fuel out and that’s all it took.”
“What do I owe you?”
“Nothing.”
The head gear, however, cost me ninety bucks. Eh. Better than a cracked skull or another visit to the ER.
On the way home I picked up a half bushel of Zestar apples and another of Honey Crisp apples. More about them later.
Back at the Aerie, it was back to pick-up sticks and cutting to length.
Tuesday, I was again engaged in pick-up sticks and dealing with the slash. I finally set that aside and started hauling all the cut wood up to be stacked for either burning this winter or to be split and later stacked. The Yamaha Prohauler did most of the heavy transport. I just had to lift it up and put it on the flat bed. That was enough! I got a real workout from that.
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| Wood waiting to be split. |
(Did I mention it is raining? No? Well it is. Buckets worth at times. Sorry for the screen.)
Wednesday, the weathermen promised rain—and they were right for a change! So I stayed inside and converted the apples into apple sauce. I took 48 apples (24 of each variety) washed, cored and sliced them; cooked ‘em until the were soft; and ran them through the food mill to produce a delicious sauce. Terry insisted they needed a little sweetening so I let her add about ¼ cup of sugar to each eight-pints. Ladled them into pint jars and submerged them in a boiling water bath.
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| Apples got a bath first. Then they got cored and sliced. Cooked until soft. |
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| Soft apples went through the mill to become |
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| Applesauce! |
I got sixteen pints this way. And an extra quart for immediate consumption. I love it with roast pork and potatoes cooked in the pork’s grease. Heck, goes well with venison or beef roasts, too!
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| Eight of the sixteen pints of applesauce I canned today. |
While I was doing all this, Terry was busy, too. Granted some of her “busy” involved Embroiderer’s Guild meetings, but they count. I seem to remember two during the time I was felling trees and cleaning up the branches--in 85 degree heat.
In the times between meetings, she converted Early Girl,
Roma and even some grape tomatoes into spaghetti sauce. She then canned that
sauce in 10 one-half pint jars for later use. (She estimates that half the time she's using spaghetti sauce out of a pint or quart jar, she has plenty left over. Using half pints she figures she'll be right on the mark for most meals.)
She also converted zucchini into breads. She added six more loaves to our collection. By her calculations she has baked some 30 loaves this year and we have eaten/given away four leaving 26 in the freezer. A slice or two with a cup of coffee makes a fine breakfast. Unfortunately, once opened and the first slice is taken, there is a tendency to take another, and another, and…until it’s gone. A single loaf might , I say might, make it to lunchtime.
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| Zucchini bread remnant. This one has only lasted so long (two days) because of all the canning going on. (And the cornbread made to go with yesterday's chili.) It got shoved into a corner of the counter and was ignored. But now it's out in the open. It will be tomorrow's breakfast for sure. |
Since we just finished one from two years ago (They hide themselves well in our freezer!), Terry said she will bake no more this year even though the plants are still producing zucchini.
As I said we’ve been busy, busy busy!
