Home&Harvest Nov/December 2020

When I was in the fourth grade, we were given an assignment to interview someone in our family and write their autobiography.

Right away I knew I’d choose my grandmother, who was always sort of an enigma to me. Whenever I went over to her house, I always noticed a few strange things. She kept or used almost everything, wasting nothing. She almost always had a sunny disposition, even when things were not going well. She always kept a few of every item on hand, and she had a little victory garden.

I remember sitting with her, my brand new notebook at-the-ready and my pencil sharpened and poised. She told me all about working on a farm as a younger girl, her life growing up, you know- the usual things. But then she told me about something that didn’t really dawn on me as extremely important until I grew up and 2020 came: The Great Depression. I saw a photo of her working in a tent.

The picture had a note written on it- something about work tents at the University of Idaho. “Ah, yes,” she smiled. “I helped prepare food back then. It was some tough times.” She went on to tell me about how things were bleak but people were grateful for what they had. How they would share food, shelter, small jobs, and be thankful every step of the way. I remember writing all of this down in my notebook, trying to write in perfect cursive while she was watching me. It was a gift that I didn’t realize I would open until years later.

Until this year came.

All around me I hear people saying things like, “Thanks, 2020.” “This is the worst year ever.” “What more can happen?” And I totally get it. Being a double small business owner has been extremely tough this year. Shutting our doors to the flower shop. Not printing the magazine in the summer. Seeing the turmoil become a daily news brief. And to someone who suffers with anxiety thoughts, I know damn well what a negative mind gives you. So I’ve been thinking so much about our elders- the ones who are practically held hostage and alone during this year. The ones with the greatest wisdom, people who have lived through the Depression and then World War 2. The ones who really faced adversity. What would they tell us about this year?

They would tell us to first of all, relax. Breathe. Count your blessings and can your vegetables. To be grateful for your good health and do what you can to help others. To enjoy simple pleasures like playing cards or a great glass of lemonade. And it’s funny, because when you first say something like that to yourself, you laugh. It’s too simple to be effective, how ridiculous, you might think. But when I found my mind slipping down a hole in March, I remembered the things my grandmother taught me. I know pandemic fatigue is a real thing. I know everything going on is exhausting people. But it doesn’t have to. And if someone who has anxiety can tell you this, it’s true. On one hand, I can tell you every terrible thing that has happened to me this year. But I can also tell you about how I returned to sewing. I shut down my meaningless social media. I started reading books again. I stopped watching negative shows. I started meditating every day. It will always fascinate me how much power focus has, and how almost no one realizes it, or takes inventory of what they are focusing on. Remember to give your mind and thoughts as much attention as you do the news. Remember to make your decisions with a focused, calm mind. Remember that the voice inside your head is as regulated as you are. So if you’re thinking scary, negative thoughts, don’t react to them in the moment. Practice some self-care or gratitude and THEN revisit the thought. Does it take work? It totally does, but your well-being is worth it. The truth is we all know that sooner or later, this will end. It will.

For my last editor’s letter of this year, I want to say thank-you to Sam and Lauren Hunt for giving Tony and I jobs of delivering meat bundles when we were closed. I will never forget that kindness for the rest of my life. For all of the people who bought gift cards to the floral shop during that time, and the people like Renee Johnson-Lam who surprised us with packages of local foods and vintage goodies. The thankfulness I felt when someone “booed” our house for Halloween and left candy at our door. To all of my advertisers who INSISITED on paying for their ads when I didn’t print the May/June issue, and the writers who wouldn’t cash their checks. For all of the encouraging letters I’ve gotten. For all of those teddy bears in the windows. All of the loyal Shop Local patrons. For all of the people who showed up in my life, directly or indirectly with a smile or kind act.

I know that when the New Year comes, it doesn’t mean a bell rings and everything is fixed. I just know that when 2020 closes, I’ll remember these moments. Our flower shop van full of meat bundles. People buying ads for other people. Going on walks and counting bears. And you especially, dear reader.

My wonderful advertisers. My incredible crew of creative talent. Every day I am grateful for this, but in a year full of uncertainty, I’ll always remember the love and kindness you showed me and others. You helped to becom the woman who would make my grandmother proud. So thank you for that. And thank you, 2020.

With all the love in my heart,

Heather Niccoli, Editor-In-Chief Home&Harvest Magazine

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18 Untraditional 26 Baking Bread 30 Flank To Flame 40 Idaho Farmer 54 Tarot Reading 58 Little Squirt 62 Thanksgiving Spirit 70 The Best Gift

Good Tidings

BY

Tony Niccoli They say that young Father Joseph Mohr was talking a late night stroll when the lyrics first came to him in 1816. As he looked out over a sleeping, snow covered town in Austria, Joseph took a moment to reflect on the stillness and beauty around him.

From there, many stories differ. Some recount mice that ate the inner workings of an organ, others tell tale of rust or lack or repair that put it out of service. But in the end, on Christmas Eve in 1818, at the village church in Oberndorf, Austria, one of the world’s most famous carols was performed for the first time by just one assistant pastor, one choir director, and one single guitar – along with a few local children to help repeat the last line in the chorus sections. It was such a hit that they began performing it at the little church every year, and Mohr wrote out the lyrics and guitar part in 1820 to be able to share it with others. A copy was carried all around the region by a traveling organ repairman who taught it to choirs along his route. It was picked up by traveling families that performed it Leipzig, Berlin, and 1839 it had made its way to Trinity Church in New York City. It was sung for an Emperor, and a Tsar. From there it spread around the world, and almost one hundred years later, this song was so well known that during a temporary truce on Christmas Eve, World War 1 soldiers came together to sing it in French, German, and English at the same time.

Some stories say that by the time Franz Gruber, the choir director who had written the original guitar part for Farther Mohr, tried to take credit for his arrangement, the song had already become so popular and wide spread that people assumed it was actually much older and written by Beethoven or Mozart. Today, it has become the most recorded Christmas carol of all time, and thanks to researchers finding an original 1820 copy written by Father Mohr, the correct attribution and history have chronicled.

But the complete history of caroling goes back much farther, and had only seen a resurgence in the Victorian Era, and not its actual start. In fact, carols had been sung in Europe for thousands of years, beginning with pagan songs for celebrating festivals like the Winter Solstice when people would sing together as they danced or paraded around stone circles.

Our modern interpretation, of a carol being specific to Christmas, is a remnant from these earlier times, and even the word carol (from Old French and Latin) means a dance around a circle with song. But in the distant past, carols were celebrated on sung on many different feast days and holidays throughout all four seasons.

With the Christian Christmas holiday sharing the same timing as the Winter Solstice that always occurs on the shortest day of the year – usually around December 21st or 22nd – many early Christian leaders attempted to take the traditions of the surrounding peoples, and deftly convert them to recognition of their new spiritual beliefs. Thus, the pagan circle dance with songs celebrating the death and re-birth of the sun, became group songs rejoicing the birth of the Son. Records as far back as 129 AD show that early church directors were calling for similar hymns to be performed at Christmas and Christmas Eve services.

But due to the early language barriers, there wasn’t much popularity outside of worship services. People attending, who might be speaking one of a large handful of languages simply didn’t want to take songs and verses that were being written in Latin home to be sung when they weren’t in mass. So even as hundreds of years passed, and composers throughout Europe put together scores of new Christmas Carols, it was simply an event performed by the choirs in formal ceremony and not yet popularized or even understood by most of the participants in the holiday mass.

By the middle ages, when the 12 day celebration of Christmas was definitely the longest, and also one of the most popular of the many feasts and holidays on the calendar, many celebrants were wholly disconnected from the actual event and its meaning. Songs, yule logs, feasting, and home decorations were enjoyed, much work stopped, and important church services were attended by all. But the songs and games in most common homes had more in the pagan tradition than Christian, or were simply general festivities and merriment shared in their common language. It wasn’t until St. Francis of Assisi started his live Nativity Scenes and Plays in the early 1200’s that more modern Christmas carols found popularity and began to spread. Realizing that many in his parish didn’t understand or even know how to read the bible, and that they didn’t see the connection that Jesus was born into a poor family just like theirs, Assisi set out to creating a teaching performance that could draw people in and hold their attention. By telling this story in canticles and songs that were written in the common tongue, and including simple choruses that attendees could sing back and participate in, he succeeded in his goal of spreading the stories, meanings, and understanding to the common people in a way that they could easily comprehend and even take home. As the Nativity Plays spread from Italy to Germany, France, Spain, and throughout the rest of Europe, and were translated into many different languages, this new observation of Christmas carols was adopted with them. Simple songs, which could be sung either in mass or around the fire at home became the new trend. Traveling minstrels adapted songs as they entered different areas, and began to incorporate new meaning to older verses, or to borrow older melodies for new carols. Though many of these newer carols were only very loosely based on written scripture, their entertaining stories about the Holy Family were encouraged by churches and loved by locals.

It wasn’t until the Puritans became more prominent in the 1600’s that this practice was greatly eradicated. Some continued on, sung privately in people’s homes even when discouraged by church leaders. But many were forgotten entirely, or only survived in part or in reference in other writings that have since been found.

Over the centuries, caroling went in and out of fashion and the traditions changed many times before we were left with what we recognize today. I know when I hear the word caroling, I immediately think of a small group of snow covered of men and women dressed like they just stepped off the pages of a Dicken’s novel, doing acapella renditions of famous holiday songs as a horse clops by pulling a carriage or slay over-

-cobblestone streets. And it is from this resurgence of popularity of caroling in that era that so many of us today to still visualize this millenniums old tradition as having charmingly begun in that period. In fact, in part due to the industrialization and modernization they were experiencing, along with considerable rural to urban migration and the seeming abandonment of more rustic and simple traditions, people in the Victorian Era were often searching for more old-fashioned traditions, and classic Christmas Carols fit that ideal perfectly. As people set out to collect original carols from villages in England and Europe, and incorporate them into bucolic celebrations that could be enjoyed around the family hearth or in small gatherings, the idea was reimagined as a perfect way to not only spread the stories, but the cheer they sought. In caroling they found a neighborly art where people of any age could participate, traditions were celebrated and passed down, and stories could be elaborately shared. At first it was groups of Christmas Waits that did all the public singing of Christmas carols. As a continuation of an older tradition of waits as night watchmen and official musicians for towns and villages – allowed to collect money for performances without being charged as beggars – these groups were often lead by key local leaders and would sing to raise funds for charity.

At the same time, church choirs across Europe began to call for more elaborate and impressive carols to sing during Christmas services. Differing from the simplistic, and pastoral carols that could be sung without accompanist or formal training, these evolved into complex songs with elegant instrumentation and rich harmonies. So people would attend mass on Christmas Eve hearing the organs and choirs belt out sophisticated musical interpretations of worship, and then continue the same at home on Christmas day singing along with family and friends to easier verses and songs.

It was at this point that services of carols by candlelight became popular, and the tradition of singing in the street, or going door to door first immerged. This festive singing around town recaptured the spirit of wassailing, a centuries-old tradition of wishing good health and good harvest.

Originally taking place at orchards and farms, wassailing involved large groups singing and banging pots and pans to ward off bad spirits and appease good spirits in fruit trees. They did this on the 12th night of the winter holiday season (around January 6th) believing that it would lead to the good spirits allowing for a good harvest the following spring. The orchard owners, happy to have the evil spirits chased from their trees, would reward the revelers with a large bowl of warm ale or spiced cider, called a Wassail Bow. The group of singers would share the communal drink and then move on to sing and cheer at the next stop on their way. Over time the wassail tradition became a yearly blessing of good will from rich land owners to their local peasants.

And while many of the older wassail carols contain blessing and well wishes to pear, plum and apple trees, the most famous song still remembered today traces back to the feudal tradition, with the towns folk first declaring “We are not-

daily beggars that beg from door to door. But we are friendly neighbors whom you have seen before.” In this way they were asking for charity in exchange for blessing and well wishes extended to the local nobility.

In return for their well wishes, they would be given a wassail cup to share, and often food as well. “Love and joy come to you, and to you your wassail too” the lord of the manor would reply, thanking them.

Wassail was more than just the cup of hard cider or ale, it was before that a word used as a greeting, meaning “be in good health.” So whether singing to trees for their healthy returns of fruit in the coming spring, or to local land owners for a little ale and food, wassailing was originally about traveling around to spread well wishes. And so as the traditions of caroling were being rediscovered in the Victorian Era, the old wassailing well-wishing and merriment were incorporated as well.

Singers went around their town, caroling in the square, and even stopping by local shops and homes to sing, often in exchange for a bit of drink and food. In We Wish You a Merry Christmas, a carol based on lines of song and greeting recorded in the 18th century, the singers originally said “We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year, a pocket full of money and a cellar full of beer.” And even in the modern version that we know today, after stating that “good tidings we bring to you and your kin,” they clearly call for a treat in return, saying “Now bring us some figgy pudding, and bring it right here” and then later “We won’t go until we get some, so bring it right here.”

Another carol that saw many changes over the years and still exists today is I Saw Three Ships. It was first sung by traveling performers using a traditional folk song melody and lyrics about three ships that were said to have transported the skulls of the Magi to a cathedral in Cologne, Germany in 1164. The skulls, contained in a huge gold sarcophagus, with the rest of the bones said to come from the original wise men, had originally been moved by a team of oxen pulling a cart from Constantinople to Milan, but were later moved by ship. Three ships for the three Magi, and the singer claims to have seen them come sailing in on a Christmas morning. Later, as the song was repurposed and adapted it changed to story of various different characters from the Bible taking a set of ships to many different locations, and finally landed on Jesus and Mary sailing into Bethlehem on Christmas Day. The coming of the Magi is also remembered in the 12 Day of Christmas. The 12 Days marks the span between Jesus’s birth and the arrival of the Magi in Bethlehem, and ties back into the 12 day festivals of earlier faiths celebrated at the same time of the year.

Like many other carols, 12 Days of Christmas has had many lyrical changes over the years, with lines about “ships a-sailing” or “bears a-baiting” being removed, and coal-colored, or colly birds, being swapped out for birds that call. Most notably, the singer’s mother, who got credit for all this gifting, later became a true love. In early practice, it was sung as a memory game, with people taking turns to go down the list, and having to give up a kiss or little treat if they failed to get all the lines correct. The game gets just a little harder with each passing round, as you have to repeat everything that was sung before you.

Other than the 12 Days of travel that tie the Magi to the holiday season, and to the name of the song, it doesn’t seem to have much more connection with the Christmas story, other than the exchange of gifts. And while it’s been suggested that it was originally used as a secret code for Catholic children trying to memorize teachings or celebrate catechism during an era of persecution, there isn’t much evidence to actually support this. Also, nearly all of the teachings said to be coded in the song are universal to all Christian faiths and so there wouldn’t be any reason for a Catholic parishioner to have to resort to hiding them in a carol.

One of my personal favorites, Carol of the Bells wasn’t a Christmas carol at all.

It actually originally told the story of a bird flying into a family’s home in spring to let them know they should expect a particularly bountiful year. My other favorite (though I admit to not knowing many of the words) is Good King Wenceslas. It also had nothing to do with Christmas for hundreds of years, until the original spring-based lyrics were discarded and replaced with the ones we know (or mumble and pretend to know) today. The newer lyrics come from a Czech poem about a Bavarian King that sees poor man struggling in the snow, trying to find wood for his fire. The King calls for food, wine and good pine logs to gift the poor man, and he goes striding out into the deep snow so quickly that his page can’t keep up and has to walk in the tracks of the King. The story is set on the “Feast of Stephen” or Boxing Day – one day after Christmas – and is a great reminder of the importance of charity in the midst of our abundance and celebration. But also, for me at least, it’s just really fun to sing the King’s voice in a deep baritone rumble, at least when I remember a few of the words. I also enjoy attempting to sing White Christmas, but since I can’t whistle I usually just leave that one to old Bingo. Like many homes, we own a copy of one of millions of records sold with Bing Crosby crooning the best-selling single of all time, and it’s a favorite at our holiday party every year.

But by far, the most famous of all the carols we have today, is a song that was purpose written, and designed to share the Christmas story. The most recorded and performed Christmas carol of all time, which has been sung around the world, and in hundreds of languages, including those opposing soldiers in WW1 that didn’t share a language but all recognized the melody immediately.

So what was it that was running through Father Joseph Mohr’s head as he took that late night stroll in 1816? He was looking out at a silent and calm town, lit brightly by candles in windows, and the moon shimmering against a blanket of snow. He was crafting a simple set of lyrics that the children of his parish could sing on Christmas Eve to surprise and delight their parents. And while the dramatic urban legends of mice chewing up the organ, or various other calamities might not be true, what did happen on that famous Christmas Eve in 1818, was the first performance of a beautiful song that could be played on guitar with a memorable chorus that local children could sing back. “Silent Night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.”

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Traditions come in all shapes and sizes. You likely have your favorites, whether it’s Chinese food on Christmas Eve or everyone saying something they’re thankful for all the way around the Thanksgiving table. We might see some changes to the ways we practice and pass on the traditions we love this year, though. Even though tried and true is often what wins out, it’s important to remember that even traditions can change with the times. I know these times have already called for a lot of change, but trust me - your traditions can handle a little more. Maybe it’s time to try something new.

If finances are driving your holiday season to look different, know that you can still make special memories. Growing up my family didn’t have the money for a Christmas tree one year so we made one out of construction paper and had it taped to the wall. I remember that so fondly and have recreated it with my family a few times. It was the perfect answer to the question of, “How do we put a Christmas tree in a camper,” when we lived in ours and had three young kids who wanted all the festive fun! We even made a paper snowman too!

Other less expensive ideas are to put price limits on gift exchanges, challenge people to create gifts from what’s around them, or give an experience rather than a thing as a gift. I’ve been in exchanges that have had ten, five, even two dollar limits! The amount of laughter and creativity goes up as the price goes down! Promise. We all know that making something by hand is a thoughtful way to say I love you, and that’s really what gift giving is about. Try writing a poem or story, draw or paint a picture or card, or bake.

Homemade gifts could be part of an experience, too. For example, those baked goods could be used to create a special tea party for a kid who loves playing with her dolls and spending time with you! Or an experience could be the gift in and of itself. Perhaps you have a favorite picnic place in the summer that you could still reach in the winter. If so, you could cuddle under blankets and enjoy the stars on a cool, clear night sharing hot chocolate from a thermos and dreams of the future ahead of you.

Outside of the gift arena, you can still save money by changing up other traditions. I already mentioned one type of cheaper tree, but there are other options too. You can get a pass from the US Forest Service to hike out and cut your own evergreen. I don’t suggest going all National Lampoon, but if you plan ahead (and maybe pack another thermos of hot chocolate) you might find that it’s a fun family outing! You could also buy a potted tree for the season that you plant in the spring. This is a way to save a little money that could turn into something you remember for years to come. Maybe you decorate that tree in the yard together every year, remembering the holidays of 2020!

Don’t be afraid to think totally outside the box either, to create something completely new or change up what you can’t do this year. Maybe the extended family gathering isn’t going to work out. What could you do to still feel connected? Bring back the holiday letter and card? Call your aunts and uncles in the weeks around when you’d normally see them and say hello?

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Nov/Dec 2020 19

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If people live close by, could you drive around and leave them some of those baked goods you made for gifts? Can you all tune into the same movie and eat more popcorn than you string for the tree on a zoom call? Maybe you’ll be getting together with a small group and the few of you can do something for the larger group that isn’t getting together?

I don’t have all the answers... but hopefully enough ideas to get your brain buzzing.

Another way to think outside the box is to research other holidays that are similar or see what traditions exist in other cultures. I’m a homeschool mom, so this is something I’ve explored on several occasions, but it’s also something that’s been a way to get in touch with my ancestral roots and simply find ways to enjoy the season that aren’t as commercialized as all the commercials would have me believe the winter holidays are! If you look into how your Eastern European or North African or Middle Eastern ancestors gathered and celebrated the harvest and winter holidays, you might find some of the roots to how you do things now.

Or you might find something new that speaks to you to try.

I talk about Christmas because that’s the holiday I grew up with and the one we celebrate with our kids and families.

However, I’ve started some traditions around the solstices and equinoxes, which speak to the changing of the seasons and the energy of nature. Having a fire and looking both at the past year and ahead to the year to come are traditions that have been around forever, probably. These practices serve a practical purpose - heat in the cold and light on the darkest nights of the year. Looking at how the year went and what you can do differently in the year to come is a mentally healthy practice, and again practical for the farmers I come from. It can also be a very spiritual practice. Last year the fires I lit were in tealights in the shape of a spiral that represented the course of the year and my movement through it. It was calming and enlightening for me to meditate on this flickering Yule tradition. It’s one I’ll definitely be incorporating in my life every year.

I know I mentioned baked goods - a few times - but there are often cooked foods that are traditional in families too.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that! So, one last suggestion... have you taught your kids to make galumpkis or latkes or whatever your family has each year? If not, maybe that’s something 2020 can’t take away. Think about the shared stories, memories of your grandparents, and the memories you’d be making for your kids. Give it a shot.

Maybe you could package them up in to-go boxes for others or put all the recipes together in a cookbook or...or...or…

Truth be told I could probably brainstorm on this subject for pages and pages, but part of what makes traditions special is the personal twist YOU put on them, so I don’t want to give you a how to book, just ideas to get your wheels turning. So, I’ll stop now. Whether you try something new or stick with traditions that are tried and true, I wish the happiest of holidays to you!

Familiar Ground

by

Keith Crossler

Thinking back on calls I’ve been on, there is one thing that sits in the back of mind when the initial call goes out.

Will I know the person or property involved in the call? Sometimes you do. I was on duty this particular weekend and when the address came out, I knew I had been there before.

It was an older home on North Main Street. I knew it, because I used to live there. It was a small, older home. It was one level and the access was off an alley way. Like most big calls, it was in the early morning hours. I hurried into my clothes and to the Command pickup. I knew where I was going and quickly scooted down the road. It was close by to where I lived so it only took me about a minute to get there. The call was for fire in the attic.

I rolled up and could see a wisp of smoke coming from both sides of the attic vents. It wasn’t big yet, but it was definitely burning. Now because I did know the place well, it didn’t take long to determine my action plan. Unfortunately the water source would be the biggest issue. The closest hydrant was across the main highway. Even at 2 AM, there is enough traffic that you don’t want to close the road unless it’s an absolute necessity.

As the first engine rolled up, I assigned them to fire attack. “Ladder the Charlie side and open the attic vent, let’s take a quick look inside”. The fire hadn’t grown much in the couple minutes I had been there, so a quick look would give us ground if we needed to open up the attic completely, or try and find it in the wall first. There was little to no smoke inside the house so I suspected it was up and not in the wall.

The second engine arrived and I had them start working on a water supply. Closing the highway was a last resort for me, especially with the fire being small in nature at this point. I sent the crew out to find the next, and closest hydrant. My attack crew reported back that the smoke in the attic wasn’t heavy and there was no sign of a glow that they could see. My experience said that whatever it was, it was still smoldering at this point. If we could find the source quickly, we could stop it before it caused major damage. This would mean we could save the structure and possibly not displace the occupants.

As I ran back to the Command pickup to get the Thermal Imaging Camera, I got a report back from the water supply crew. They found a hydrant halfway down the alleyway and were working to set up the supply line. I immediately said to myself that it was odd to have a hydrant in an alleyway. They are typically on a corner in an intersection of a standard roadway. “Verify the hydrant before laying the supply line”. I didn’t want to waste the time pulling the big, 5” diameter hose, if it wasn’t really a source.

Back with the attack crew, I handed them the Camera and had them go in. This particular camera shows different heat levels and temperatures. It’s great for finding a fire source inside walls or closed off areas. We typically use it to find hotspots during an overhaul process. But, in calls like this, it’s perfect to narrow down a fire source so we don’t cause more damage to walls blindly looking for the fire.

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“Command from Water Supply. We already laid the line and the hydrant is a décor hydrant that fell over when we tried to hook up to it.” Dang, just what I didn’t want to happen.

“Leave the line and keep looking for a good hydrant. We may not need the water source so report back once you locate it”.

There wasn’t that much line on the ground and it would be time better spent looking for a good source. We can pick up the hose when we’re all done.

The interior crew yelled back on the radio to have a face to face at the doorway. I walked up and met the crew. They found a hot spot above the water heater in the wall. This was in the kitchen, but it sounded like water was running. I had them start opening up the wall space above the water heater in the corner where the wall met the ceiling. Bingo. With the first strike of the axe, flames came out. It was a direct line of sight from the back door into the kitchen. I could easily watch the crew work from outside. As they opened up the space, they could trickle water onto the flames and extinguish the fire as they went.

As I stood there watching, I got back on the radio. “Water Supply from Command. Discontinue search for the hydrant.

We’ve found the fire and won’t need to establish the water supply. Tank water will be sufficient.” And then they replied with something I wasn’t prepared for. “Uh… copy. We just charged the supply line shutting down the highway.”

Are you kidding me? I couldn’t believe what they just said.

Then the angry me showed up and I hollered back. “Who told you to do that? I specifically said to report back and I did not want to close the highway! I’m in Command and you’ll do as I order! Disconnect it now and open up that highway!” I was pretty upset. Hindsight, I should’ve just calmly told them to get the road back open. But I just couldn’t believe that they decided to make that choice when I had been so specific on not doing that. I found out later that another Chief Officer on scene told them just to do it anyway. He felt it was better to do what he felt was best instead of checking in with the Incident Commander.

Now back with the crew inside, they were able to pull wall and ceiling out of the kitchen until they couldn’t find any more burnt area. The running water was a broken line from the hot water tank. When the fire started in the wall from an electrical short, it started burning up towards the attic. It finally got hot enough, it burned through one of the plastic lines on the hot water tank. Because that line was under pressure, it actually sprayed water on the fire and kept it small until we could get in there and put it all the way out. Sure, if it burned long enough, it would have gotten up into the attic space and started to free burn without the water spraying on it. That would’ve resulted in a completely different outcome for sure.

The occupants decided to stay with friends that night after we were done. All in all, it was a great save and we had minimal damage to the home from the smoke and water. After we were all done and picked up, we had a quick debrief on the fire. We all agreed that it’s important to know where your hydrants are.

If they seem to be in an unusual place, check it before you pull your supply off the truck. And, that we should also all be on the same page when it comes to the action plan. Work together to limit the unnecessary actions and to keep everyone safe.

Bread Making Part 1:

Don’t Kill the Yeast! by

Virginia Colvig

“Do you remember when I first started baking bread?” I asked my husband.

“Flat, crumbly, and a terrible flavor.” He succinctly replied. Not the actual date I’d been looking for. It’s good he waited several decades to provide this particular feedback. But he was absolutely right. I have made my share of flat, crumbly bread with a nasty, rancid taste.

I blame recipes. Those precise instructions provide a very specific path to follow. But they don’t often describe the dangers that lurk when you stray from their little map. I like to wander off the beaten path. I have frequently stumbled, and my bread has fallen. But I have learned a few rules along the way.

Rule #1: Don’t kill the yeast. Yeast lives– until you kill it. The scientific name for baker’s yeast, Saccharomyces Cerevisiae, means “sugar-eating fungus.” Yeast can starve from lack of sugar, but that’s definitely not the easiest way to destroy it. Hot temperatures, do the job very quickly. Warm temperatures, say 90 - 110 degrees Fahrenheit, make the little fungi so happy; they just wake up, work like crazy, and the bread rises faster. Too hot? The yeast dies. It’s best to not bring on an early demise by adding hot scalded milk, or forgetting the dough is in the oven on warm for a few minutes. I’m very cautious about heat these days. That 110 mark is the highest I want to go. Heat and starvation are fairly straightforward ways to destroy yeast.

Drowning it in its own waste is far more insidious. Insidious, but still a very easy way to murder yeast.

Your bread sits, rising happily on the counter. Then, life happens. You get distracted, and the next time you notice, your dough looks little flat on top. It’s begun to collapse, maybe a little, maybe a lot. You punch it down quickly. There’s a sour smell, but still you hope. It may be worse than it seems.

Think of yeast as pooping out carbon dioxide and ethyl alcohol…not really. Maybe that’s a bit graphic.

But bread dough does trap these byproducts in little balloon bubbles made of the stretchy protein, gluten, found in wheat. If the balloons get full, they start to pop. The waste stays put if it’s not pushed out. Imagine those poor little yeasties engulfed by a flood of their own garbage. They won’t be happy. The dough won’t rise as well, and there’s a smell. Pay attention to that smell. It probably won’t get better, no matter how much you hope. Believe me, I’ve hoped.

Brave souls, like my husband, still eat the bread. They might even say something diplomatic like: “Well, it does taste a little sour, but not quite like San Francisco sour dough.”

It’s taken a lot of mistakes to accept the truth. If yeast dough rises to the point of collapse, it’s bad. Some call it “over proofing” or too much fermentation. That’s euphemistic. The bread tastes like the rotting corpses of little fungi – because the yeast has basically been drowning in its own waste.

That leads to rule # 2. Don’t let dough over rise. It won’t kill the yeast or ruin your bread to punch down dough before it fully doubles in size. Most recipes have more than adequate sugar. It’s unlikely you will starve the yeast, even if you punch it down a bit early and a few extra times. Furthermore, if you know you will be late and can’t babysit the bread, just chill it. That’s right. Cool the bread down. Yeast grows fastest when it’s warm, but cold temperatures won’t kill it, they just slow the process. Lower temperatures seem to slow, and actually prolong the life of yeast. I’ve yet to kill it with cold. I store a jar of yeast in the fridge, and refill it from a bag kept, sometimes for years, in the freezer. Cold slows yeast dough’s rising and that gives you flexibility.

Go ahead, put a little plastic over that bread and stick it in the fridge. But remember, it won’t cool immediately, it will continue to rise some. Likewise, the dough will not instantly warm when it comes out of the fridge. So, consider being flexible with shape.

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Smaller pieces warm more quickly than large ones. If you want bread for dinner, but you’re running late, and the dough is cold, bagels might be the perfect solution. Form a ball of dough into a thin snake, pinch the ends together to make a doughnut shape. Place these on a greased cookie sheet, remembering they’ll double in size. Next, drop your baby bagels in boiling water for 15-30 seconds. A slotted spoon works to lift them from their warm bath and return them to the baking pan. By the time the oven pre-heats, your bagels should be warmed and nearly double in size.

Pizza might be another good option. After you’ve worked the refrigerated dough into shape with warm hands, added some sauce, cheese and toppings, it should work to just throw it in the pre-heated oven, and it’s probably okay to get distracted for thirty minutes or so before baking, too.

Speaking of pizza… I found a new recipe during the initial stay at home order last spring. It’s the fastest, easiest yeast bread recipe I’ve ever used. I recommend Bobby Flay’s pizza dough recipe for beginners and experienced bakers alike.

And, believe it or not, there are paths beyond just following this recipe to a tasty home made pizza.

Unbleached white flour works fine for me. And there are so many shape options to try! Tuck half the dough up into a small ball for a fresh round of French bread. Cut off small chunks and roll them into snakes for fresh breadsticks.

Make a longer snake into a pretzel. Flatten a snake to wrap, then squish, all around a hot dog before baking them both together. Squash small rounds to half inch tall circles for passable looking, but yummy hamburger buns. There’s no need to confine this recipe to one shape. However, I recommend you not add whole grains, or make sweet breads with this recipe.

Whole grains need more time to soak, and this recipe doesn’t have the butter typical in treats like cinnamon rolls, and it’s definitely not sweet. A teaspoonful of sugar is not much. The yeast could actually run out of food, and starve.

I’ve stretched the single rising time a little with the ‘push it down early’ method. But if your crust doesn’t brown quite properly in the oven, you’ll know. You baked it in the nick of time. The yeast ate all the sugar and was beginning to starve.

Chilling the dough can help. I’ve stored this recipe in an oiled plastic bag in the fridge for a few days, but when I know that this is the plan, I preemptively add an extra teaspoon of sugar and don’t heat the water. Prepared this way, along with pizza sauce and toppings, could even create a simple meal gift basket.

Fresh bread, in any from, usually makes a welcome gift for both friends and family. And, when it’s hard to get out of the house, it’s good to explore something! So remember, a few departures from the recipe trail can be a fun learning experience. Except maybe when the results are flat, crumbly, and bad tasting. And even then, they can be good for a laugh. So, keep trudging onwards. And may that wonderful aroma of baked bread, reminiscent of warm August days in wheat country - without the dust, help fill your home with peace, warmth, and joy.

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Last issue, in his Reloadin’ Joe series, Heather’s dad talked a little about her first deer. To this day, hunting is still something she loves, but unfortunately it has become for us one of those “as soon as we get a little time” endeavors. Each spring and summer we talk a good game, and discuss getting out in the fall and winter, but each fall and winter we find ourselves just a little too busy with life’s pulls in various other directions. So here we are again, getting photos from family and friends of their deer and elk, while we look at the calendar and try to find an open weekend.

But that doesn’t mean that I haven’t had the chance to fire up the grill and practice in season’s past.

On occasion, we are lucky enough to be gifted a few cuts here and here, maybe some sausages, even a rare tenderloin or pack of steaks. And my first though is always – “fire up that grill!”

If you aren’t a hunter yourself, and haven’t had the opportunity to grill something as delicious as venison, I would really suggest you keep your ears open or just take a look around. While you aren’t very likely to run across some fresh deer packaged up and ready for sale at your local grocery store, you are very likely to already know an avid hunter, or you can even look online now for specialty shops that sell and directly ship game. With venison, you are eating something that is probably the most sustainable meat possible for people in our region, an animal that is purely organic, raised in the wild without caging, fencing or restrictive confines, never processed commercially or injected with any drugs or chemicals, and incredibly healthy for human consumption. With less fat, lower calories, and a higher nutritional density that most alternatives, venison is really a terrific red meat choice.

For those who still might be a little unsure, let me quickly address the elephant in the room – “gaminess.” It’s a complex and loaded word. It’s overused, and means a little something different to everyone. Imagine for a minute that you had never tasted beef. All you knew was chicken and I was trying to describe a burger. That information gap would likely result in a poor description, and possibly an unmet expectation when you first had a bite of steak. Wow, that sure is “gamey” – strange, unusual, of a different taste, texture, or look. But that doesn’t mean that you wouldn’t come to absolutely love beef. This, to me, is the root of the gamey concept. However, lurking on the other side of the word, and possible keeping some shied away from the adventure of exploring a new taste is that alternative definition of gamey - the built-in idea that there will be an overpowering or possibly unpleasant flavor that you need to hide or work around. Going back to the beef example, a cow fed nothing but grass will produce a different texture and flavor than a cow that ate grains.

With your local white-tail deer, the diet has been mostly … well, now that all depends on where you’re reading this article. And even then, one deer might have had much different preferences than another individual taken only a few mile away. So yes, there is an inherent randomness to the exact flavoring. I just don’t except that as a bad thing. I’ve even heard several regular hunters say that with perfect field dressing and butchering technique, there isn’t any need for a word like gamey. So go ahead and expect something a little new, and be ready for a different flavor, but don’t fear a startling shock or abrasive pungentness – we are talking about some venison here, not possum – you won’t need to throw around the G-word.

My most recent venison was a wonderful tenderloin. I cut it into two pieces and treated both differently. The longer cut was left as-is, and the shorter piece made Heather and I two amazing butterfly fillets. I cut each one about 4 inches thick, and then ran a butterfly cut down the middle at the same angle that I cut them off of the tenderloin. I went about 90% of the way through, leaving enough attached meat to keep the pieces together, but allowing me to flip them open, creating a medallion shaped steak that was about 2 inches thick and attached at the top.

You’ll obviously be starting with an incredibly lean piece of meat for any of these cooks. But it’s still important to get it cleaned up properly. Make sure to take off any excess sinew and always carefully remove the silver skin from the tenderloins. With our pieces expertly trimmed we will have a much more consistent cook time and a better end-product. Once we have that out of the way, it’s time to season. For the tenderloins or steaks, I’m a fan of keeping it super simple. I go with salt, fresh ground pepper, and some dried garlic. You can make your own simple rub like I do, or go with just about any store-bought beef or pork rub that sounds like a flavor you would enjoy.

Like cooking a great beef steak, I want to get to medium-rare with great char on the outside and simply let the flavor of the deer do the talking. Complex sauces, steak sauces, and overly intricate 30-spice rubs are fine when you need to mask a flavor or make up for something that is just too bland to be enjoyable, but the beauty here is that the meat already has a wonderful taste. Like anything that goes on the grill we always use a little salt and pepper to enhance and coax out the natural flavors, but after one bite you’ll see why I choose to keep it so simple. It’s pretty hard to beat a medium-rare piece of venison!

However, if you still worry about gaminess or just love to add some more extravagant flavors, it’s time to consider a good marinate. Do you remember my second Flank to Flame article from January 2015? No? Well, I didn’t either, so I went back and had a look. We talked about Rubs, Brines, and Marinades in depth and I’m starting to feel like it might be about time to go back for a little review in a future issue.

Just hitting the very basics here, a marinade works well for beef, lamb, veggies, and game – the key here is acid. A lot of people say “I’m going to marinade this XYZ” and then they go a brine, or use a salt based liquid for prep. You’ll often hear me say that I love to brine with pork, chicken, even with hearty fish.

But for our venison, if you want to use a pre-grill prep liquid, create a marinade that is high in acidity. The goal is to slightly alter the proteins in meat and tenderize it as you impart flavor. Think vinegar, citrus or red wine for a marinade base, then add herbs, honey or sugar, and any aromatics. I have a simple one shown below to get you started, but feel free to experiment and make it your one. For small pieces, a minimum of 45 minutes of soaking, and for big cuts do a maximum of 24 hours. Always marinate in the fridge with a cover over the meat, and use some paper towel to blot off any excess before you grill. We don’t want those sugars turning black and acrid in the first few minutes of cooking.

Remember to salt and pepper each cut once they are dry then go directly onto the grill. If you like the flavor and want to baste with your marinade, make sure to separate some before the raw meat goes in. Keep that bowl in the fridge and drizzle or mop in on in the last five minutes of cooking.

For the tenderloin, I start with a sear directly over a twozone medium heat grill, but I keep the lid off to make sure that I don’t overcook the meat. Go about three minutes a side, just enough to get a great seared crust on the outside, and then move the tenderloin to the other side of the grill to finish the cook with the lid closed. For the steaks, go over a higher heat, and keep them directly above the flame. I go lid-down for about 3 minutes a side, and only give one flip. The goal for either preparation is right around 120-125 degrees. If you go much past that 125 mark you may find some tough or dry disappointment waiting for you. But with such a healthy and organic meat source you shouldn’t have any real fear of trying a rare or medium rare cut. In fact, I’ve heard it said that a perfectly cooked piece of venison is one skilled veterinarian away running back into the woods! My taste buds agree.

Tony’s Marinade: 5 Tbl Balsamic Vinegar 5 Tbl Soy Sauce 4 Tbl Worcestershire 4 Tbl Olive Oil 4 Tbl Honey 4 Tbl water 2 Tbl Dark Brown Sugar 1 Tbl Lemon Pepper

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Simplified Holiday Black Forest Cake Kitchen: Emory Ann Kurysh This is a seriously moist and delicious cake that will impress your guests this holiday season. It looks beautiful and like you spent hours upon hours baking it, when it reality, it didn’t take long at all!

2 cups all-purpose flour 2 cups granulated sugar 3/4 cups unsweetened cocoa powder 1 tbsp baking powder 1 tsp baking soda 1 tsp salt 1 cup buttermilk 1/2 cup oil (I used canola) 2 large eggs 1 tbsp vanilla extract 1/2 cup hot water 1 bag frozen dark sweet cherries, pitted and thawed 2 containers whipped cream 1 bar dark chocolate Butter, to grease Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease 3 8” or 9” round cake pans. Sprinkle flour overtop. Set aside.

In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Mix well and put off to the side.

In a medium bowl, add the buttermilk, oil, eggs, and vanilla. Beat on medium speed with an electric mixer for 1 minute. Then pour wet mixture into dry mixture. Add the hot water, and beat for an additional 2 minutes, or until well-blended.

Put cakes in oven. Bake for approximately 23 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Remove from oven and let cool for at least 30 minutes before expelling from cake pans.

Remove enough whole cherries to line the perimeter of the cake. Then, begin slicing the remaining cherries in half. Once cakes have completely cooled, you can start assembling the cake. Set one cake down and slather in approximately 2 cups of the whipped cream. Put half of the sliced cherries on top. Top with another cake layer, and repeat these steps. Finally, add the last cake layer and cover the entire cake in whipped cream. Line the top of the cake with the whole cherries. Finally, cut the chocolate bar into thin pieces. Sprinkle half of the bar on the sides of the cake and the other half on top. Immediately refrigerate and devour within a day or two. Merry Christmas!

Creamy (& Vegan!) Cauliflower Soup Kitchen: Emory Ann Kurysh

Who doesn’t love a hot bowl of creamy soup during the cooler months? There is something so comforting about having that little circle of warmth in front of your face, and inhaling the rich aromas that it gently gives off.

I personally have become a fan of serving soup for get-togethers. It is a nice alternative in having to come up with several appetizers for several people.

The best part is that it can be made days or weeks in advance. Simply freeze it upon making it, removing it and heating it on the stove the day of the event!

Not everyone will grab a bowl, but those that do will appreciate its rich and smooth taste. Best of all, it is quick to make and incredibly healthy. I guarantee that no one will guess that it’s vegan.

2 tbsp oil 1/2 head of garlic, or at least 5 cloves 1 Spanish onion, chopped 1 medium head of cauliflower, chopped 5 cups vegetable broth 1 1/2 cups coconut (or almond) milk 1 tsp lemon juice 1 tsp salt 1/2 tsp pepper 1/2 tsp ground thyme Heat the oil in a large pot. Remove the skin from the garlic, chop it, then press down on it with a knife to release the juices. Throw it in the pot and leave it on medium heat.

While the garlic is cooking, chop the onion and cauliflower and add it to the pot as well. Then add the vegetable broth, coconut (or almond) milk, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and thyme. Bring to a boil, then reduce to medium and continue to cook for another 10 minutes. Then remove it from the burner and set it aside.

Very carefully, transfer the soup into a blender. Don’t add too much when it’s still hot. Blend a little bit, pour it into a new bowl or container, then blend, pour, blend, pour, etc. until the entire soup is a nice puree. From there, you can either eat it on the spot, keep it in the fridge for a few days, or freeze it for a few weeks. It’s up to you! Enjoy!

White Chocolate Cake Kitchen: Gayle Anderson Cake 1 cup butter, softened 2 cups sugar 6 eggs 4 oz white baking chocolate (w/cocoa butter - I use Ghirardelli White Chocolate baking bar) 1 tsp vanilla 1 ½ tsp almond extract 3 cups flour 1 tsp baking powder ½ tsp soda ½ tsp salt 1 cup (or 8 oz) dairy sour cream Frosting: 4 oz white baking chocolate (w/cocoa butter - I use Ghirardelli White Chocolate baking bar) 8 oz cream cheese, softened ¼ cup butter, softened 1 tsp peppermint 2 ½ cup powdered sugar Crushed peppermint sticks (optional) for garnish Preheat oven to 350 degrees F and grease/flour a 10” tube pan, set aside. (I use the baking paste at the beginning of this page) .

Cream butter and sugar till well mixed, add eggs and mix well. Scrape sides of mixing bowl, then add vanilla and almond extract.

Microwave 4 oz white chocolate in a small bowl in the microwave. (I find 1 min and 15 sec melts it perfectly – but follow instructions on pkg). Once melted, add white choclate into butter mixture and mix well. Sift flour, baking powder, soda and salt into batter, mix on low till combined. Add sour cream on low speed till just combined, do not over mix. Then spread batter into the prepared tube pan. Bake 55 to 60 min or until a toothpick (I use a bamboo skewer) inserted near the center of the cake comes out clean. Cool cake in pan on a wire rack for 15 min. Remove cake from pan and cool completely before frosting. (at least 2 hours) Frosting: Mix butter and cream cheese till well mixed. Melt white chocolate in microwave, then add into butter /cream cheese mixture and mix well. Add peppermint extract and blend well. Add powdered sugar and mix well. Frost the cooled cake. If you like, top the cake with crushed peppermint candies as pictured.

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Nov/Dec 2020 38

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An Idaho Farmer In France

BY diane Conroy

So far, in past issues of Home & Harvest Magazine, I’ve been writing the story of the John and Mary Lorang homestead in Genesee, Idaho. Many of the activities on the Lorang farm in Genesee were very similar to what other pioneers also tried to do on their homesteads in this area, but John had documented it all with photographs and journals. Here is a story though that is a little different for an Idaho farmer of 110 years ago.

In April of 1910, John and Mary Lorang began a long awaited 6 month journey through the U.S. by train to New York City, then aboard ship to Europe and the Middle East. They had heard tell of the Cook’s Tours to these ancient sites and joined up with a U.S. church group to make the travels affordable. John was raising barley and wheat, selling potatoes, apples, peaches, cherries, cream, pumpkins, berries, milk cows, even goldfish to the Davenport hotel in Spokane, homemade wooden washing machines and hogs. According to John’s 1910 ledger, a large sale of hogs was needed to gather funds for the trip. Even after they had started off and were in Spokane, preparing for the train to New York City; they realized this amount wouldn’t be enough for the whole trip and wired back home that more hogs would need to be sold and please wire the extra funds.

According to Mary Gesellchen Lorang’s 1910 journal: “Diary of the trip we have stardet, Hope that God will Bless us to end it in health and return again to Genesee, Idaho.

Thurs. April 7th, 1910, we left home to go as far as Spokane and from their to stard the long trip that was planed for many years, but when I left my heartached to leave behind my dear once!”

English was the 2nd language to John and Mary Lorang, who spoke only German in the home until 1902.

John writes: “April 7, 1910, Diary of a trip trough Italy, Egipt, Palestine and Europe.”

During the 6 month tour Mary Gesellchen Lorang’s sister, Tina Gesellchen Smolt of Genesee, offered to help with the children; since the youngest child Charles was still only 8 years old. The local seamstress, Miss Clemens, also stayed with the children and made the girls dresses, while everyone was writing letters to Mama and Pa. Several letters and postcards have been found here, as well as the two journals written by both John and Mary Lorang, along with a detailed ledger of expenses of the trip. The dresses made by Miss Clemens were found in steamer trunks in the 1878 Log cabin and are now on display in the Farmhouse museum, White Spring Ranch, Genesee.

This incredible trip in 1910 changed the trajectory of the rest of John Lorang’s life. After viewing the remarkable sights of this time in Europe and the Middle East, he developed an interest in photography and other creative arts.

Over 300 artistic photographs were taken of this 6 month trip by an Idaho farmer and his wife. John took most of these, but Mary had to give it a try for John to be included in the photos. John would get close up photographs of people from each country. He would climb hills, buildings and posts for the right angle for his 1909 Eastman Kodak Brownie pocket camera. John’s favorite phrase in his extensive journal was “the grandest thing I ever saw!!”. If there is any item that John may have left out, we can always read Mary’s journal where she wrote each day in even more detail.

John and Mary traveled from Spokane to New York City to Italy, the Middle East, through the Ottoman Empire and back to Europe through Italy, France, Luxembourg, Switzerland and Germany, then England.

John writes: “My wife and I left our home in Genesee, Idaho, on April 7 to travel to New York, where we took the steamboat “Berlin” with the final destination of Naples, Italy, on April 23rd. We were traveling with a group of 175 American pilgrims, (traveling for an audience with the Pope in Rome.)

This group was led by Bishop Eis von Marquette. We arrived in Naples, Italy, on May 4th”.

John wrote little here about the trip across the ocean, but if we check his journal, he says that it took 12 days of travel; with the ship averaging 400 miles a day depending on the winds. He had been sick during at least some of the time, but entered daily notes in his journal.

Four months later John wrote a short article and sent it back home for the Genesee News.

“Berlin, Germany, August 8, 1910 I wish to let you and all of our Genesee friends know that we are still alive and we have enjoyed our trip so far, not withstanding the fact that the weather was very hot in the Orient during our stay there, the later part of May and the fore part of June. However, since we have climbed the Alps to a height of over 12,000 ft. above sea level, where there is perpetual snow, we have gotten so chilled that we are not yet thawed out. The weather all through Europe has been exceptionally cool and wet, the several countries having sustained heavy loses of life and property from the rains and floods. From here we go to Brussels, Belgium and from there to London, England. On the 17th of this month we board the steamer ‘Crown Prince Wilhelm’ at South Hampton, England for the States. Our home sweet home.”

Along with the over 300 photographs, John and Mary brought home books, receipts, artifacts and stories. This trip established John’s interest as a photographer and the story of the 1910 journey traveled down through the generations, through the families and children, of this incredible man and his wife who thought that travel was the greatest thing one could ever achieve, yet longed to be back home again.

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As I am writing this article for the holiday edition, it’s mid-October, the air is crisp and I’ve noticed that people are a bit “crisp” too. Between COVID 19 and the election, it seems to have people a bit on the edge and dare I say… sometimes cranky. When I get stressed, two things happen; I bake (some call it stress baking) and my sense of humor is ignited and goes into overdrive. The only problem with the humor part is that it’s hard to torment people when you work from home, so I bake.

But on a serious note, life is different and I get it – I want my normal back, or better yet - the opportunity to re-define what my new normal looks like, where we have an awareness of our lives and define what’s important to us. And I’m betting that you want that too. And until that happens, I thought I would share a few holiday favorite memories with you, in hopes that it will get your favorites in your mind and bring a smile to you. While I feel it’s important to focus on the future, sometimes lingering in the past and relishing those beautiful keepsake moments gives us hope for new memories that will make its place in our hearts. To get myself in the mood, I have a cup of tea and a big ole slice of cake (this month’s recipe) next to me while I paint in words a picture of life’s sweet and sometimes humorous memories of past holidays.

It’s interesting when a tradition starts from extending an olive branch and quickly becomes a cherished family time. Many years ago, when I had decided to leave the family business, it put a strain in my relationship with my mom, and being a close family, it made it even harder during the holidays. So as a way to smooth over ruffled feathers, I invited my mom and step-dad over to a home cooked dinner and afterwards I suggested we drive to Colton, WA to look at Christmas lights. The ground was snow covered and a perfect picture postcard setting in mid-December. We gathered up our daughters who were in grade school and junior high at the time and set off all while singing loudly in our off key and rather awful voices to carols on the CD. The girls nestled down with blankets and sleeping bags in the back of the SUV were delighted to take in a new adventure with 2 of their most favorite people in the world and of course, with us, the parents. That night after a hearty meal shared and broken fences mended, it became a beloved tradition that we continued on for several years thereafter. When I asked my girls what their favorite Christmas memories were, they both said the same, going to look at the holiday lights and baking cookies with all the woman and kiddos in the family. Although we didn’t live far from my folks, just the anticipation of spending the day at their ranch was special and they loved seeing their archway lit up the brightly colored lights. It was magic in their eyes and the anticipation of spending the day with their aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents was and still is a cornerstone for holidays. When we would walk through the door, grandma would be fussing around in the kitchen and grandpa would offer up a hot buttered rum to the adults and hot Russian tea to the kids.

And the girls commented that they even loved the memory of grandpa with his oysters and lutefisk, despite the smell.

My step-dad was full Norwegian and he treasured that white jello looking smelly fish. We dubbed the way he ate it as a “Norwegian taco” as he would take lefsa (sort of like a tortilla) add mashed potatoes and lutefisk and pour melted butter over all of it. To the non-lutefisk eaters which was everyone else, we had the traditional dinner and enjoyed every morsel. Those were treasured times.

When I asked my “Mr. Right” what were some of his favorite Christmas memories, Rod recalls that Christmas Eve was spent with his grandparents, then Christmas afternoon he and his family would gather at a relative’s home for a big holiday dinner. His eyes would light up when he spoke about being around aunts, uncles and cousins and a table laid out with abundant German dishes. Rod’s parents were farmers and most of the relatives were also farmers. If you have ever spent much time in the company of a farmer, well… they are known for their “ingenuity”. It is just part of who they are. And one year Rod remembers going to his Uncle Harold’s farm, and that this uncle had mounted an airplane motor to an old sleigh which had a windshield attached on it. Oh my gosh… can you imagine that?! So the adventure before Christmas dinner was flying through the snowy fields going about 60 miles an hour on this airplane propelled sleigh. (I am imagining that Uncle Harold’s wife probably had no idea what he had concocted in the barn) And last but not least, a glimpse from my work life antics… and the Courthouse Christmas tree. I worked in the Prosecuting Attorney’s office for Latah County and our office was a high functioning and busy office. The office staff was composed of a small statured woman (Nancy) who was the prosecutor and she had the ability to be both amazing and terrifying at the same time. We had two deputy prosecutors, Doug and Craig, myself and another legal secretary.

And we all worked really well together. If you remember my comment earlier that when I get stressed that I resort to humor and/or baking… Well one year, it was a particularly stressful stretch during the holidays. Doug, the senior deputy prosecutor was the oldest one in the office, a former major in the army turned attorney, and he was often my “target” for my practical jokes.

In the mid-1990s, we had computers, but Doug preferred this goofy old typewriter that had its own distinct type set, so you knew exactly whose typewriter it came from. Every year there was a contest to see which office had the best decorated Christmas tree and it was judged by the County Commissioners. And every year despite our best efforts, the Clerk of Court’s office always won. And to be fair, their trees were spectacular. Anyway, the day before we were having the tree contest, Deputy Doug had left to go on holiday for a few days and wasn’t due back till after Christmas… so I sprang into action, grabbed the junior deputy prosecutor (Craig) to join me in a “little Christmas tree adventure”.

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shadow.indd 1

5/1/12

So when the prosecutor was out of the office, we bravely took the large plant in her office, drug it out into our foyer and decorated it with tinsel, lights, toilet paper and paperclips and then typed up and taped to the plant, a “Merry Christmas” message on Deputy Doug’s typewriter, to make it look like he had done this just before he left. Of course, we knew the prosecutor would probably be peeved that her plant had been used for the office Christmas tree and then couldn’t wait for the fireworks when Deputy Doug came back from his vacation and would be in trouble for decorating her plant. (He was a great sport when these things happened and never let on who the prankster was, bless his heart). Anyway, the annual tree judging day came, the commissioner’s saw our pitiful “tree”, they laughed like crazy, word spread throughout the courthouse and we had all the other office personnel troop through our office to see our creative concept. Of course, we didn’t win but then the next year other offices decided to try their hand at who could have the tackiest tree and we went to great lengths to try to outdo each other.

If memory serves me correctly, not long after that I believe office decorating guidelines were put in place.

A while ago I floated the idea around that since we all had adult children and that some of us had blended families, was it time to split and each do our own family celebration? And we all thought about it for a moment, and said nope! We just couldn’t imagine not being together. And as the numbers grow, we find so does our love of being together. And it’s my little farmette that I now share with Rod is where everyone lands for Christmas Eve. His adult kids, Chelsea and Zach fit right in the holiday chaos of noise, family, food and fun. And when we gather, for some reason my mom always seems to be the target of some good-natured antics. It is like she is a magnet for impromptu practical jokes. I blame my brothers.

If you noticed all the favorite memories that I shared weren’t about presents under the tree, it was about who were gathered around the dinner table to celebrate life. And as Thanksgiving and Christmas draw near, I realize it may look different for some as they may choose to celebrate virtually while others may opt for in-person gatherings. And it’s a choice of what works best for your situation.

But let us not forget what the true meaning of Thanksgiving is - it is an expression of gratitude, especially to God. And I came across a Christmas blessing that echo’s what is true to me and I hope you find the same: “Let us make time for family but also spend private devotional time in contemplation of the sheer wonder of the reality Christmas symbolizes: The Mystery of the birth of Jesus Christ into our often troubled and lonely world. He is the fulfillment of all humanity’s hopes and dreams, he is the answer to all our personal questions large and small. He is the solution to the troubles of the entire world. Take time to listen to His Word, and to fully experience His good news in your life. For then together we can BE PEACE ON EARTH in a time of war. We can bring stability to our families. We will find peace in our own human hearts so often troubled about many things. This is my prayer for you this Christmas. This is my blessing ~ John Michael Talbot~ Wishing you hope, love and bountiful blessings this day and every day. All my best, Gayle

Home&Harvest

Nov/Dec 2020 53

Home & Harvest Tarot Reading

Annie Gebel Our reading this issue gives you some energy to integrate into your life as 2020 comes to an end, and to take into 2021. So, I invite you to look at the cards and choose one from each row that speaks to you or jumps out to you.

These cards are from an oracle deck known as Medicine Cards. The authors, Jamie Sams and David Carson, pulled from the education of and research into many of the native tribes throughout the Americas. The concept of animal medicine is that the stories and lessons of the animals, with all their character, energy, and behavior, can provide us with gifts to integrate into our lives and grow from. Our personal power, strength, and ability to find meaning in life can be enhanced with the medicine of these animals. So, what do they have to say for you?

The top row of cards – Wolf*Hawk*Frog – offers ideas and thoughts that can carry us through the end of this unprecedented year. Which animal did you choose?

Wolf holds the medicine of the teacher, learning new ideas and bringing them back to the pack. Wolves are loyal, with strong individual urges and deep reverence for their community or family. Wolves are connected to the moon and her energy too. If you’re not familiar with moon cycles, the new moon is a wonderful time to set intentions or goals. For November and December, the new moon falls mid-month, so use that time to think about what you’d like to introduce to others, to teach, and then use the next few weeks to plan and act on those plans. The full moon is mid-cycle, falling at the end of the month for the moment, and a great time to connect with others – maybe the perfect time to share the knowledge that you have to give. Even if you have a different schedule that doesn’t flow with the moon’s phases, listen to the calling within you to impart your truths to others. This doesn’t mean you need to be a teacher, but you could guide others through writing or speaking on topics close to your heart. Lastly, if you don’t feel the need to teach others, try spending time by your self and looking within to see what might be simmering under the surface that you didn’t know about.

Hawk is a messenger. He encourages you to notice the messages all around you, using the power of observation – try taking in the big picture like Hawk when he soars above. Use your own discernment to determine who the signals and symbols you notice are meant for. Many of them might be for you, to reassure yourself or guide you in a certain direction. If you get the feeling the message is meant for someone else, though, feel confident in telling them. Sometimes it is easy to get distracted by life’s daily activity or overwhelmed by everything going on in the world. So, don’t be surprised if hawk has to cry out to get your attention! The shrill call of hawk is meant to wake us up. He’s telling us to pay attention because there are signs all around us.

Frog has cleansing medicine, which means the energy surrounding Frog is similar to the elemental energy of water, which heals and cleans us. For you, as we close out 2020, you may feel the need for a shower, bath, spa treatment… something to wash away the sludge and heaviness of a year that has wrought forth a lot of stress.

Consider a mud bath at a spa or adding lavender to your own bath water. I like sprinkling scented bath salts on the floor of my shower. There are many ways you can literally clean your body and spiritually clean yourself too. Don’t forget to drink your water. It’s an often-overlooked task for many of us but can help refresh our bodies and keep our minds clear. If rain or snow is in the forecast, try thinking about the blessings it brings rather than the nuisance it can be.

In the same way that the top row gave you medicine to finish out the year with – teacher, messenger, and cleansing medicine – the second row is some medicine to get 2021 off on the right foot.

These animals – Crow*Lizard*Mouse – will provide you with a few ideas to think about and begin to incorporate more after the holidays. Which animal stood out to you?

Crow offers the sometimes hard to swallow medicine of law, not like that of our courtrooms, but the universal law of what’s right. This is a law that will rebalance itself if we don’t take the initiative to do so ourselves. Crow tells us that change is at hand. The question is, will you be part of the solution that brings things back into alignment or caught off guard as it happens anyway? It can be tempting to react defensively with caws about already doing your best or being a good person. Crow hasn’t shown up to argue with you or tell you either of those claims is wrong. What she is asking of you, though, is that you get quiet with yourself and really take time to know what changes you can be a part of to bring what is out of whack back.

There might be big changes at hand or maybe something more subtle. Only you know your personal truth. Crow calls to you to live in a way that supports your truth and that of universal law.

Lizard lazily offers his dreaming medicine to you. This isn’t a license to just daydream the day away, but it is a reminder that our dreams serve a purpose. Maybe a dream journal would help you remember themes your mind is working overnight. If you’re not awake enough to write, try using an app on your phone to record your dreams. You could try thinking of something you’d like help with as you go to sleep and, perhaps, solutions or ideas will come to you in your dreams. And if you don’t remember your night dreams, pay attention to the daytime ones. All this dreaming is a way for you to face your fears, be creative in solving problems, and turn obstacles into ideas. So, don’t be so quick to dismiss them. Lizard is telling you that 2021 could use some creative, dream-like suggestions to get off to a positive start!

Mouse’s medicine is scrutiny. Mouse looks at everything carefully. He touches things with his whiskers to gain information about them before nibbling on them or running away. As you move into the new year, be cautious but not scared. Check out new opportunities before jumping on them. Take your time, like Mouse, even if you already know the terrain. Don’t assume that you can sneak the cheese even if you have before. Trust your gut and what your feelers tell you. If you sniff the air and it smells like cat – maybe there’s a cat waiting around a corner that you can’t see yet. Scrutiny is a medicine that allows us to truly see what is right in front of our eyes, the small picture, and to act accordingly. This is Mouse’s message to you.

One of the great things about being human beings is that we can take an active role in how we think and what we do. Now that you’ve chosen an animal card from each set, you have some things to incorporate into what you think and how you act over the next several months. Maybe you’ll be like Hawk, noticing messages as you soar above taking in the big picture for a few weeks, and then begin to narrow your view to what’s right in front of you, taking in Mouse’s medicine. Or maybe you identify with Wolf ’s teacher medicine as the year winds down. I wouldn’t blame you at all – there are certain to be many lessons to learn from this year. If you are sharing your knowledge now, though, you might need to step back and take in Crow’s message to see if you’re helping regain ground on improving what is unjust or not or Lizard’s medicine and dream up some new pathways to take.

Whatever combination of animal medicine you picked, I hope it spoke to you in a way that allows you some comfort, some direction, and maybe some peace of mind.

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my little

Squirt

by Joe Evans This is my story about my third-born daughter. Her real name is Jenifer but I quickly came up with the nickname of “Squirt” for the following reasons. Jenifer was born in the middle of winter at Gritman Hospital.

After plowing snow at the hospital, I went inside and patiently awaited her birth, while still in my snowmobile suit which I wore while driving my tractor. Time passed while I waited for the birth of my child.

And what a hairy daughter was born! Lots of dark hair and a set of large, dark, beautiful eyes. Just like her mother!

Jenifer was a good-sized baby at birth but as time passed she gained little weight but was very healthy. Jenifer used to stand in her playpen, the only one of my daughters who could make her toes protrude from the pen and quietly- always quietly- gaze at you with those beautiful dark eyes. I wouldn’t call her Jenifer because she was truly a “squirt” and this nickname will forevermore be hers.

Squirt was always very quiet and even-tempered but to be clear, we learned not to push too far because when Squirt decided she had enough, you’d better run for cover! Just like the rest of her siblings, she was also a con artist! Whenever I took her to the grocery store or local shop without her mother, she would also ask me to purchase some candy because, “my mama always does.” Well, I always did because one look at those eyes would melt anyone’s heart.

When Squirt turned twelve years old we attended hunter safety courses like the rest of her sisters and Jenifer did very well, certainly like anything else she has been involved with. We spent some time hunting deer but the opportunity for Squirt to harvest a deer did not present itself that fall.

It was not until a number of years later that Jenifer harvested a deer.

I was about a mile from her when I heard the single shot and knowing her, I knew she had connected. She did! The single round she discharged from her 7mm WSM did the trick quickly.

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As she grew, Squirt became interested in horses and soon developed a superb riding ability. White-water rafting and back-country exploring are also among her interests. She does very well on the trapshooting range. She’s done all this without any financial assistance from me. Squirt truly does things her own way.

As a parting shot and attest to her bravery, I have to mention this last tale. When my girls were young, we’d take family sledding outings in the woods.

We were on such an outing and I cautioned all of my girls not to go a certain way on their sleds. You see, out there the drifts were rather large and while the kids were having a great time, one truly cannot control a sled! Despite my warnings, Jenifer did not listen. I will always remember looking at those eyes of hers as she rode the saucer down a steep slope with all of us gasping in fear. My clod-hopping through the snow to get to her was no help. But Squirt threaded the needle between two large trees with no gap to spare. When she came to a safe stop at the ends out our collective boots and hands, she casually jumped off. Her sisters were hollering in circles around her, in full appreciation mode. Her mother and I just looked at each other. This can only be summed up as being a parent can be scary at times! But that being said, I couldn’t be more proud of my little Squirt.

The Spirit of

Thanksgiving

By Zachary Wnek As you are reading this, the ‘holiday season’ is in full swing. Pumpkin Spice has infiltrated your lives in ways you couldn’t imagine ten years ago, and we are well into sweater season. One of my favorite parts about this time of year is the shorter days—the invitation to spend more time with ourselves and our families. However you celebrate the holidays, they may look a little different this year. In the past, there might have been extended family gatherings with 30 people could be your immediate family this year. I know for me I cherish these large family gatherings. I love when the dinner table is so packed, and everyone is talking over each other that you have trouble hearing a single conversation. Still, the energy of love comes across stronger than what anyone is saying.

This year my family will celebrate the holidays at home with our immediate family instead of traveling. When reluctantly canceling our holiday plans, I found it essential to reflect on the wonderfully large family meals and beautifully set tables. This year, for us, the traditions don’t end. We are merely celebrating a bit smaller. That’s ok. We can remember the love in our lives, spend ample time with our loved ones, and truly embrace the holiday season.

Looking through the Latah County Historical Society archive, I have drawn two stories from local residents who were thinking of Thanksgiving. These residents thought about what the holiday means to them and reflecting on holidays past. I hope that this brief history gives you pause, as it did me, to believe that however you celebrate this year, the spirit of the holidays is alive.

Bert Gamble

Thanksgiving - Alone!

It’s Thanksgiving Day and I am alone. Ah yes, I have friends, many of them, but Thanksgiving is a “family day,” and so it should continue to be. Therefore I was not hurt at not being invited out nor do I think so much of Thanksgiving as a “feast day,” that I invited myself out to eat a big meal at the hotel, as I have known some of my lone friends to do in the past. To me every day is a day of Thanksgiving and now that I am living on so-called “borrowed time,” I appreciate more than ever Gods’ goodness to me down through the years! And although I have not a chick nor child, mother, father, sister, brother - even niece or nephew.

I am never really lonely for I have one wonderful friend who “sticks closer than a brother,” so I am never really not alone even in my thoughts.

But, somehow, these “special days,” like Thanksgiving, aren’t quite the same as other days. I usually go about “business as usual,” sometimes hardly telling myself to remember that it is a special day. Forever recalling the many wonderful Thanksgivings of the past when our little family was together, and we often celebrated the day by inviting to share with us the students in our small college town who could not afford the long trip across the state to be home with their families on Thanksgiving Day. I still sometimes get a letter of appreciation from one of those students who is now a grandmother herself expressing once again her thanks for that happy Thanksgiving we made her for her and a few other students from among the young people of our small church who were forced by financial problems to spend their first Thanksgiving away from home and family.

As Marian expressed it “you saved my life, for I never was so loneliness and homesick in all my life before.” Those were wonderful Thanksgivings, and the more so because they were shared. I can still see mother’s long table stretched through two big rooms beautifully set and decorated, laden with everything to make a perfect Thanksgiving dinner.

Then, when our capacity for food had reached its limit these dozen or so “orphas for a day,” gathering around the sweet toned old piano and sang and sang. We all loved it. I doubt if any of those young people has ever forgotten that first Thanksgiving away from home, and their loved ones, even if they have not like Marian ever written to express their appreciation for the home away from home that my living parents made for them. How wonderful it is, though to receive such an expression of thanks, even many years afterward! But with or without thanks I am sure they have not forgotten, and can only think they will pass the same kindness onto some other lonely person on Thanksgiving Day.

by Alma Lauder-Keeling

Alma Lauder-Keeling

The Latah County Historical Society loves to get our friends and neighbors together around this time of year for our Harvest Dinner fundraiser. Unfortunately we are unable to have this event in-person this year. We were determined to share a meal with our friends and neighbors. To that end we have developed Harvest Dinner at Home. A meal-kit version of our Harvest Dinner event that could be cooked at home. For each meal purchased through LCHS an additional meal kit was sent to a local food bank so that we could truly spread our bounty with our neighbors. Harvest Dinner at Home has ended for 2020, but we would like to thank those who participated in celebrating with us and the businesses who helped us make this happen.

Have a happy and safe holiday from all of us at the Latah County Historical Society and we are looking forward to 2021.

Thanksgiving Originally published in the Palouse Republic Dar God, we ask Thy blessing At this Thanksgiving day; We come to Thee confessing Things we should away -We who have weathered often, Abandonment of dreams; Turn us from things that soften To goodness that redeems -Give us the Pilgrim courage That pioneered the wild; Spur us to swift demurrage For promises defiled-Plant in our hearts at this Thanksgivingtide Seeds that will burgeon, bloom and nod and sway; Of Thy great deathless love that muse abide; When life, and death, and WORLDS HAVE PASSED AWAY. - Bert Gamble

the BEST gift

By Temple Kinyon The cold sting hit Otis square in the jaw. “I’ll get you for that, Deanie!” he shouted over the melee taking place in the front yard at the Swan home.

A winter wonderland swirled the night before, depositing a foot of fresh new snow. Never to miss an opportunity for jocularity and good, clean sibling rivalry, the seven Swan brothers and sisters bailed out of the kitchen after a quick breakfast. This Saturday morning offered a perfect day for an all-out snowball fight.

Otis took cover behind the big oak tree to wipe the remnants of Deanie’s zinger off his chin. He knew not to show pain or fear; those things could bring on a full attack. Otis’s success revolved around getting his siblings fighting amongst each other instead of targeting him.

Doris came screeching around the tree, covered in snow. “I just got nailed by Gladys, Otho, and Cleits,” she laughed.

“Deanie nailed me,” Otis remarked. “Wanna team up?”

“Ok!” Doris agreed, then yelled, “Chuck!”

“What are you doing?!” Otis hissed. “Chuck is for Chuck; he won’t join forces with us.”

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“Oh, yes, he will,” Doris smirked. “He owes me for doing his stupid chores last night so he could go out.”

Chuck ran toward Otis and Doris, snowballs pelting him in the back. He cornered around the oak tree out of the line of fire, cheeks pink and minuscule ice drops dusting the ends of his long eyelashes.“ You hollered?”

“Dude, let’s gang up on them,” Doris suggested.

“Ok!” Chuck agreed.

Well, that was easy, Otis thought. Now I have protection!

Chuck stepped away from the tree, waved his arms frantically, and shouted for a time-out. The bombardment of snowballs stopped momentarily. “Whaddaya mean, timeout?” Deanie shouted from behind a garbage can. “This isn’t grade-school tag, ya wus!”

“Otis and I have to pee,” he shouted. He winked at Otis to play along.

“Yeah,” Otis shouted as he peeked around Chuck. “Real bad!”

“Ok,” Deanie shouted. “You’ve got one minute!”

Chuck and Otis scampered into the house. Otis had no idea what the official plan included but watched in amazement and adoration as Chuck opened the pantry door and started sorting out small potatoes from a large bin. He filled Otis’s coat pockets with several small tubers, then stuffed his own pockets full.

Otis’s smile curled up in a Grinch-like fashion. This just got interesting. *** The teams consisted of Otis, Doris, and Chuck versus Gladys, Otho, and Deanie. Cletis served as referee. After establishing some rules—including no aiming toward the head— each team made 20 snowballs before the battle. Otis, Doris, and Chuck stealthily formed snow around the soon-to-be cannonball potatoes.

“This won’t hurt anyone, will it?” Otis asked. He wanted victory over Gladys, Otho, and Deanie, not to hurt them.

“Just don’t aim for their heads,” Doris assured.

“They probably have something inside their snowballs, too,” Chuck said.

Otis shrugged his shoulders in camaraderie as he formed snow around another potato.

“Attention, teams!” Cletis shouted from his perch on the porch. “Are you armed?”

“YES!” all six siblings shouted in unison.

“Then assume your positions!”

The siblings scurried to their assigned spots separated by 20 yards of open snow—Doris, Chuck, and Otis behind trees near the barn, and Gladys, Otho, and Deanie behind the corner of the shed.

“Ready, set. . . FIRE!” Cletis bellowed, and the Swan Sibling Snowball Fight of 1978 commenced. *** “You’ll be ok,” the siblings’ mother, Mavis, stated as she inspected the damage. Blood escaped from a large gash above Gladys’s eyebrow and oozed down her cheek.

As Mavis dabbed a large gauze on the cut, Gladys glared at Otis, who sat on a stool across the kitchen. He meekly smiled, “I’m sorry, Glads. It was an accident.”

“Because throwing potatoes is safe,” Gladys barked.

“You two, stop,” Mavis refereed. “Otis, go to your room and change your clothes. You stink to high heaven.”

Gladys, Otho, and Deanie had used horse manure enshrined in snow, making their snowballs extremely smelly upon impact.

The entire dogfight had proceeded without injury—even with the potatoes—until Otis’s zinger smacked Gladys above her eye, breaking her glasses. The rough edge of the plastic frame had gouged Gladys’s eyebrow, making it erupt blood.

Otis had no idea a little old potato could do that.

***

“Otis, why did you aim for her head?” Mavis asked. She and Otis sat next to each other on his bed. He’d changed his clothes and felt the warmth return to his body. He also felt ashamed for what he did to Gladys.

“I wasn’t aiming, just throwing,” Otis confessed.

“The potatoes weren’t the best idea,” Mavis said.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Otis replied. “But Chuck and Doris said it was fine, so I went along.”

“Did you think it was fine?”

“No,” Otis slumped.

“Oh, Otis, what am I going to do with you?” Mavis sighed.

“You just got finished with your Halloween grounding.”

Otis looked at Mavis with his big, sad, sorry eyes.

“Fine. You’re getting off with some extra chores and a stern warning this time because it’s so close to Christmas. But for goodness sake, stop causing trouble.”

Otis sat up straighter, amazed he wasn’t grounded. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll be good, I promise!”

“You better be,” Mavis said. “Santa is most certainly watching.” *** Grandpa Ed and Grandma Helen joined the Swan brood for dinner that night. Lively discussion about the epic snowball fight dominated the conversation, highlighting Gladys’s runin with Otis’s potato bomb. Otis said and ate little.

After dinner, Mavis instructed Otis to check the heating devices in the water dishes in the barn. The forecast called for below-freezing temperatures that night. “Consider it your first chore for breaking Gladys’s glasses,” Mavis smiled.

Otis bundled up to the point he could barely walk and trudged out to the barn. He opened and closed the barn door quickly, careful not to let out any heat. He clicked on the light and checked the horse trough first. The water level sat low, so he filled up a bucket in the big sink and slopped over to empty the contents into the trough. His six trips filled it. He then arranged the small heating element on the trough, so it hung in the water to keep it from freezing. He checked the water bowl for the cats, too. As he finished, the door to the barn whipped open.

“Oooo-eeee, it’s going to get cold tonight,” Grandpa Ed exclaimed and slammed the door. “Thought I’d come check on you.”

“I’m done,” Otis stated.

“What’s going on, Otis?”

“I guess I’ve been making some bad decisions lately,” Otis confessed.

Ed chuckled. “I see. What kinds of bad decisions?”

“The potato snowballs weren’t even my idea. It was Chuck’s.

But I went along. Bad decision. But how come I’m the one in trouble and not Chuck?”

“I dunno,” Ed said, “but I can see how that might frustrate you.”

“I can’t do anything fun without getting into trouble,” Otis continued. “I always get caught, and the older kids never do.

It’s not fair.”

The kids, along with Grandpa Ed, Marvel, and the uncles— Daryl, Clark, and Sherman—trudged up to the top of the orchard where the start of the sledding run awaited.

Grandpa Ed nudged Otis away from the clan. “See how shiny the run is today?”

Grandpa Ed patted Otis on the head. “I understand. I was the youngest in my family, too, and my siblings only involved me in stuff so if the heat came, I got the blame.”

“Yeah,” Otis breathed. The brilliant sun revealed the crusted ice top and helped melt it just enough to create the ultimate slick surface. “Grandpa, won’t that be dangerous?”

“Exactly,” Otis said.

Ed chuckled. “Nah, everyone’s bundled up; there will only be a few bruises here and there; I doubt we’ll see blood.”

“What do you think about doing something to cause a little trouble but not get caught?” Ed asked.

Otis’s eyes lit up. “Without getting in trouble? I’m in.”

“Well, it’s going to freeze tonight, and we’re all coming over tomorrow for the big family sledding party, right?”

“Yeah,” Otis said.

“That solid sled run through the orchard and down the hill into the field looks like it might need some greasing up,” Ed smirked. “Let’s take some water out tonight, splash it on the sledding run, and let it freeze overnight.”

“Grandpa, isn’t this a bad decision?”

“Only if we get caught,” Ed said.

They filled three buckets with water, a couple large for Ed and one small for Otis. Light from the barn illuminated their way to the Italian Prune orchard sitting on a knoll 100 yards behind the barn.

“We’ll hit the run just outside the trees,” Ed explained. “The part under the trees stays icy from the shade.” He gently splashed the water from both his buckets onto parts of the sledding run. Otis followed suit and splashed water further down the run. It took two trips to complete their task. After, they bounded into the house for hot chocolate, the rest of the family oblivious to their devilish deed. *** The next morning, the bright sun charged up the snow into a dazzling sparkle. It was a balmy 25 degrees when the Swan family arrived home from church and donned their sledding attire. Grandpa Ed, Grandma Helen, and all the aunts, uncles, and cousins arrived with their sleds. Helen and Aunts Beryl, Gail, and Patty, along with Mavis, headed to the kitchen to make sandwiches and hot chocolate to take out to the thrill-seekers later.

Home&Harvest

They joined the group at the top of the hill, where an argument ensued. Who would go down first? Otis joined in, making his case that it should be him since he was the youngest.

Ed interrupted, “I think we better let the older kids go first, Otis.” He bent down and whispered, “trust me” in Otis’s ear.

The cousins agreed to take their turns, oldest to youngest.

Otis realized being last for this endeavor wasn’t such a bad thing after all. He grabbed Ed’s gloved hand with his mittened one and squeezed. They gave each other a knowing look.

First up, cousins Buster and Claire. They doubled-up on a runner sled, Claire in back with her legs around Buster.

Lined up behind them, Bertie face-first skeleton-style on her toboggan; Otho and Doris on a runner sled; Ronda, Lane, Deanie, and Cletis on their own metal saucers; and Chuck, Gladys, James, and LeRoy each perched on a toboggan. The remaining kids, Violet, Charlotte, and Susie, opted to watch.

“Ok, kids,” Grandpa Ed shouted above the din, “remember to count to ten before you go so you don’t crash into the sled in front of you. Buster?”

Buster held up his hand, indicating he and Claire were ready.

“GO!” Ed roared and put his arm around Otis. “This ought to be good!”

Buster and Claire shoved off and zipped out of sight. Within seconds, they shot out of the trees and hit the slick portion of the sledding run. The increase in speed was visually noticeable to Ed and Otis, along with the other spectators.

“Great balls of fire,” Uncle Daryl laughed. “Those kids are going too fast!”

Nov/Dec 2020 80

“Nah,” Ed countered. “They’re fine.”

One after the other, the cousins shoved off, forming a line of sledders spaced apart at a safe distance. But when each hit the doctored portion of the run, their increased wild speed caused them to whiz down the hill at a reckless pace.

Buster and Claire hit the small incline at the bottom of the sledding hill, which normally would slow them down, but today, served as a launchpad. Hitting it at a blurring speed, they blasted off into the air, a speck against the brilliant blue sky. Hurtling back down to earth, they landed in a flurry of snow.

Bertie followed behind, shooting up into the air behind Buster and Claire. In a split second, several Swan sledders repeated the launch sequence, orbiting into the great blue, and then landing with muffled thuds in a swirl of snow.

Bringing up the rear, James and LeRoy were the only ones to recognize their trajectory and had immediately performed a tuck and roll maneuver, bailing off their sleds halfway down the run before meeting their fate.

Ed, Otis, and the others watched as the stunned—and possibly banged and bruised—sledders stood up from their respective landing spots, brushed off the snow, and slowly started to laugh. Utter glee and sheer hysterics floated up the hill as the kids doubled over in laughter. They picked up their sleds and made their way up the hill, most of them vowing to do it again. Only Chuck arrived at the top with a limp.

“I think I twisted my ankle,” he laughed.

“Serves you right for getting me into trouble,” Otis muttered. Only Grandpa Ed heard him.

“Should we take a turn?” Ed asked Otis.

They quickly gained speed, but Otis knew it was nothing compared to what was coming. As they shot out into the sunlight, the runners on the sled took on a different feel, like a hot knife through butter. As their momentum increased, Otis felt the snot freeze in his nose and eyes begin to water. He heard and felt Grandpa Ed’s big belly laugh as they rocketed down the long hill, more air-born than earthbound.

Otis feared the destiny awaiting them. He said a quick prayer in his head as they hit the bottom of the hill and streaked up the slope, a.k.a. the launching pad.

Suddenly, Ed shouted, “Lean, Otis! Lean!” They leaned to the left in unison. The runner sled scooted up the incline a bit further but then made a distinct u-turn and slowly headed back down the slope, settling to a stop with a soft lurch.

“Woohoo, Otis! We did it,” Ed shouted as he jumped off the sled. “We mastered that icy monster!”

Otis felt a complete sense of awe, joy, and holiday spirit filling his entire being. He burst out with laughter, and Grandpa Ed hauled him off the sled in a big bear hug.

“That was the best ride ever, Grandpa!” Otis shouted.

“Stick with me, kiddo,” Ed beamed. “I’ll show you how to have fun and not get grounded. And hey, looks like there’s hot chocolate waiting for us.”

As they trudged up the hill, Otis once again placed his mittened hand inside Ed’s gloved one. “Grandpa,” he said, “you’re like having my very own Santa Claus right here on earth.”

“Oh, Otis,” Ed replied. “Those words are the best gift you could ever give me.”

“Are you crazy?” Otis replied.

“Oh, c’mon, I know what I’m doing.” Ed nudged Otis toward an empty runner sled. “You sit in front between my legs. Hang on and do what I tell you.”

Otis’s teeth began chattering, more out of fear than cold.

“O-o-o-o-k-k-k-k.”

Ed and Otis positioned themselves on the runner sled, with Otis wrapping his arms tightly around his grandpa’s legs.

“Ready?” Ed asked.

“Uhh…” was all Otis uttered before Marvel pushed them, sending the pair down the chute through the plum trees.

Happy Holidays!