Black Walnut Trees

Across the valley by the garden spring are several Black Walnut trees, in fact, there are many spread over the farm.  Picking up walnuts to sell was one of our childhood chances to make some money. Each year some one will have a walnut huller operating and will pay by the pound for Black Walnuts after they are hulled.

This is a Black Walnut by our house showing many walnuts still on the trees.  I left the corner of the roof so you can imagine how big the trees are.  This is one of the smaller trees.

These have fallen and are ready to pick up.

The way they look when they fall

and the color they turn

One without the hull but still in the shell.

First you remove the hull

then break it open with a rock or hammer

...they are a tough nut to crack...

and you get the wonderful "meat" or "goodies" to eat.

This is about half of a walnut's worth.  They can be used as any other nuts in cooking, baking, or just like this.  The hulls in water when changing from green to brown will make a wonderful "tea" to dye cloth with not to drink.  We also discovered a good strong tea will kill thistles.

Black Walnut wood is highly prized for furniture making and for gun stocks.  The living room here At The Farm is Black Walnut tongue and groove routed lumber varying in widths with almost an inch thickness. The shelves on each side of fire place and through out the house are made from Black Walnut.  All walnut in the farm house was harvested here, seasoned, milled, planed and routed for use in building this house.  It will never be painted nor removed.

Thanks to Lynne at Irish Garden House for suggesting this post.

Things Just Happen That Way

An Ellie Mae look alike

While visiting with a friend who writes the Irish Garden House, I thought of another chicken story from childhood.  I told Lynne I could speak chicken.  She laughed but I think she believed me.  I give her credit for jarring my memory so I could take y'all back in time with me.

I've always been a chicken lover, actually a lover of all animals. (Don't even THINK dirty!)  The summer of 1965 (age ten) for some unremembered reason I was gifted two young chicks from a neighbor.  These were my first Bantams since Mom and Dad always kept large hens for egg and meat production.

Glory of glories!  I had two chicks all my own.  I immediately named them Ellie Mae and Jethro...hey, it was 1965.  Before they grew their first full set of feathers, they knew their name and thought I was their mom. They grew quickly.  Soon they had to leave their protected box inside and enter the real world. They both would sit on my shoulders as I walked.  When I came outside and tapped my shoulder, they would fly and land perfectly.

Jethro met with an unfortunate accident involving another animal but Ellie Mae was my favorite...I know, not supposed to have favorites with your children.  It was just me and Ellie Mae and my dog, Helen.  There were other animals but these were mine, all mine.

Ellie Mae spent most of her days that summer on my shoulder or nearby.  She relied on me for feed so she didn't wander far.  I caught bugs for her or anything else she would eat and fed her on my shoulder.

Mother was a little tense when I brought the chicken inside.  On one of the rare occasions I bucked parental authority (taking my life into my own hands) I took a stand because of Ellie Mae. Mother would not let me bring Ellie Mae to the dining table.  Oh, how horrified I was!  Couldn't understand it. (Hey, I was ten and loved my chicken). I declared I would not eat if Ellie Mae could not eat with me.

I waited for the explosion.  It didn't come.  Dad asked Mom, What harm can it do?  A table and chair were placed outside the kitchen under a shade tree.  I carried my plate and my drink out to the table with Ellie Mae on my shoulder.  I set her on the table and she ate from my plate as I did.  I drank my tea as did Ellie Mae.  (And, no, she never pooped on the table.  I guess she had learned to go on the ground cause she never pooped on my back either.)

That was a wonderful summer.  The last summer I ate with the chickens at a table.  When people found out I liked Bantams they gave me more. Dad built a huge shed so I could have my own chickens.  I would sit for hours and imitate their sounds.  I knew what each sound meant and they seemed to understand me so I spoke chicken, I suppose.

My Bantam flock grew.  I had over fifty of every kind and color along with two ducks and a crow...but that's another story.

Thank you, Lynne, for helping me remember.

Got Bread!

Remember the post where I made Justin Wilson's bread?  I inquired about what kind of bread machine to use.  I discovered that most made theirs by hand like me.   

I have "met" many wonderful people since I began blogging and I knew there would be someone with the answer.  Lynne from Irish Garden House  went way above and beyond with her help.  She sent me a bread machine!

I was so thrilled to receive this wonderful gift.  I read and read and discovered every recipe called for dry milk.  I didn't have any at the moment so I worked on getting a table ready because the instructions said Do not operate on flammable surface.  Here is my knocked together unit that will hold the meat grinder and my bread machine while providing extra work space.  The top is an old enamel piece from a destroyed, not by me, Hoosier cabinet.  The bottom has rollers so I can move it anywhere.

My sweet sister Marcy shows up with a bread recipe mix!  I was so involved in the instructions, when it said a entire envelope of yeast, I got my own and found the one included later.  It will not waste.

As much as I love the art of bread making it was so nice to place ingredients in here and go about my rat killing without waiting on any thing.  I remembered to take pictures when SOMEONE reminded me.  I was two seconds from done.

Beautiful!  I think it touched the top because I used my yeast instead of the one they had in the packet but that didn't hurt one thing.

Here's the bucket,

Here's the loaf, perfect!

I slathered it with butter and set it to cool.

Didn't make it to cool. That is why it's a little crooked. Sliced it early, shared with Marcy since she brought the mix.  Jake, Andrew and Hubby came through sniffing the air like a coon dog looking for game.  It's gone before it cooled.

Thank you, Lynne.  The old saying "...and the whole da** family thanks you" is very true!  You have made me a very happy cook.

Oh, I will still knead that dough time to time just for the pure joy of it but for now I can bake homemade bread while I'm taking a nap...right!