March: Five Months without Re-supply

 

A frequent question people ask me is:  “What do you miss most about a city?”  I miss live theater, authentic ethnic food, museums, and certain seasonal events.  But this time of year what I miss most is... access to fresh, raw, crunchy vegetables.  Yup, something as prosaic as that! 

 

We are officially “crunchless” now that I have cut up my last onion.  It has been 5 months since we last flew to town (and a supermarket).  My mouth is watering for a bite of crisp celery or crunchy cabbage.  I even want to hear the sound!  The only greens we have now are the sprouts I grow all winter and the few leaves of plants I start under grow lights in late February.

 

Missing celery reinforces my big Life Lesson of living here, which is to take nothing for granted and to appreciate the grace notes of life:  a fresh vegetable, a warm fire, the pristine whiteness of (yet another!) snow.  

 

Textural preference aside,  we have plenty of food, both what we raise and what we buy (on a meticulous 275 line spreadsheet).

 

Among  produce that I raise/forage, my food shed, even this late in the winter, is full LOTS of berries, rhubarb, dried dill, and lovage (the leaves tastes like celery, but alas, no crunch) and homemade condiments, like horseradish, zucchini relish,  and chutneys.    We still have plenty of potatoes from the dozen plants last summer and lots of dried mint, rosehips, lemon balm, chaga, and  the leaves of fireweed and berry bushes for tea. 

 

But other vegetables and herbs that I labored to grow, harvest, blanch/freeze, pressure can or dry are long gone.  Last summer's home grown oregano, thyme, parsley, cilantro and basil are already depleted as are sorrel, tomatoes and brassicas.   I had hoped for a robust harvest to last all winter,  but two damp summers in a row made my gardens very attractive to lots of hungry slugs that chowed down on all of the broccoli and cauliflower leaves and then moved into the crevices of the heads.  Gross.  Compost?  Yes.  Side dish?  No. I understand that in some languages of cold weather cultures, the name for the months  of March/April are akin to "the month of hunger."  Isn't that sobering?

 

Among produce that we buy, citrus and bananas freeze well, so we have that tasty flavor throughout the winter, both the juice and the rinds, which I dry in a cold oven and save.  (I love orange rind in split pea soup, for instance). Bananas freeze well, too, both in and out of the skin.  I make a chocolate banana pudding with the frozen pulp.

 

My clever friend, Betty, reminded me that one can sprout green onions by putting the root end of any (store bought, too) onion in a shallow bowl of water.  She NEVER buys scallions.  Darn.  I forgot that.   This approach is true for many store bought vegetables with an intact root end, like celery.   Next winter, I will remember this. 

 

To supplement dwindling supplies of veggies, we stock dehydrated and freeze dried vegetables.  The reconstituted texture is not great, but they add color and nutrients to rice and stews. Dried mushrooms are particularly tasty.   The flavor varies by brand, so I encourage interested shoppers to try a small quantity before buying a case.  Betty's home dehydrated vegetables (and fruits) are much more flavorful than others that I have purchased. 

 

To all of you who have convenient access to a supermarket, you may be more alert to food inflationary prices than I am, but you can also bask in  the delights of spontaneous purchase and consumption.  What a treat!  Please bite into something juicy and crunchy today and enjoy it on my behalf!

February at an Alaska Homestead: Snow, Fire, Mail

February was certainly a three ring circus, weather-wise.  It began with several days of high wind that made it hard to sleep at night.  Our log cabin creaked and sighed like an old wooden ship at sea.   The weather was far more destructive throughout the notoriously windy east side of the Matanuska Susitna Valley, though.  There, the wind ripped antennae and siding off a friend’s home in Wasilla, as well as causing roof damage and power outages throughout the area.   Imagine a power outage.  In Alaska.  In February.

 

Well, we experienced a small hint of that issue.  To heat our home through the winter, the wood stove is stoked 24/7.  This year, for the first time, we burned spruce inside instead of birch.  The latter has higher BTUs and burns cleaner, but the former is plentiful because of all the beetle-killed trees on the property.  We had postponed using it because we had read that the resinous wood can clog a chimney faster with creosote.  “Nah,” our Fairbanks friends told us.  “That’s all we burn here!” Maybe so, but one chilly, dark night in late February, our chimney stopped drawing (smoke) at all.  Finito.  Nada.  Since my husband sweeps the outside 95% of the chimney every month, we knew that the blockage was in the interior pipe, but there was nothing fruitful we could do while the firebox was hot.  

 

We let the fire go out overnight, sleeping in lots of clothes under several blankets.  We awakened to an interior temperature of 51 F.  Not too bad.  Then, Bryan dismantled the interior pipe.  Sure enough, with serving spoons, buckets, and a shop vacuum, we withdrew several pounds of ash and chunky creosote.  So much for spruce vs. birch.  (Photo:  So far this winter, we have burned all the logs that used to cover the left side of the building.)

Because of our location, we get a lot of snow over the course of the winter.   Mid-month, two multi-day snow storms deposited FIVE FEET of ADDITIONAL snow.  My husband scurried, as fast as his snowshoes and an extendable snow rake would let him, to shovel off some of that snow weight from the shallower roofs here that do not slough it off easily.  Recommendation to others:  a  45 degree metal roof is worth the extra construction cost because becomes virtually labor free.  A 33 (or shallower) degree roof in a snowy area requires frequent, annual attention.  Either way, over the course of the winter, both generate high berms around the buildings. (In the photo here, the low side of the outhouse roof is 7 feet high. Note the snow "labyrinth" path from the back porch to the outhouse.)

Thank goodness Bryan is attentive to snow load.  A friend’s metal airplane hangar COLLAPSED onto TWO airplanes, pancaking them.  The photos were devastating.  Every year we hear of residential and commercial buildings that succumb to the hazard of flat/low angle roofs and lots of snow. 

 

At the very end of the month, temperatures surged to the high 30’s, with a bit of rain crusting the snow.  On a sunny day, we enjoyed our first BBQ of the year on the front porch.  The sun felt gloriously warm. We even heard flies awakened from their dormant state, hovering near the warm, log walls.

 

February yielded three highlights, too.  One was seeing lots of little seedlings sprout under grow lights that I start this month. This thrills me every time, especially since it is not guaranteed; older seeds age out of production.  I also tried something new (gardening is all about experimentation).  To warm the soil to an attractive germination temperature, I set the seed pots on cookie sheets over the pilot lights on my gas stove.  This raised the temperature of the trays to 70 – 75, resulting in faster germination. 

 

Another treat of February was longer days.  In January, the low sun disappeared behind our western windows at 3:10 – 3:30 pm. But by late February the sun finally rose high enough in the sky to sail above the mountains, providing sunsets starting at 6 pm.  The morning sun also “moved” further east, giving us blue light at 7:30 am.  Yea! These warmer temperatures and longer hours of sunshine also render our power system’s battery bank more effective and efficient.  March 1 and 2 we did not need to run the generator at all to provide us with electricity. 

The third highlight was the delivery of mail and some supplies by hardy snowmachiners from a Mennonite community near Wasilla.  Each year, we buy frozen chickens and construction services from these wonderful people.  This year, one man said that he had some friends visiting from the Lower 48 and wondered if he could visit us as a snowmachine destination.  Of course!  It took them two tries to arrive over unmarked terrain through woods, bogs, and waterways.  The first time, instead of a 2.5 hour one way trek, they bogged down (several times) in overflow and soft snow up to their waists and had to return home (an 8 hour effort).  A few days later, these intrepid guys succeeded.  They arrived, cheery and hungry.  I now appreciate the ditty about the post office delivering “through rain and sleet and snow…”.  These guys lived that! Thank you!

 

Since we never want to waste a trip out here, we asked if they would bring some pent-up mail and supplies.  Thanks to them, I opened delayed Christmas cards, 10 lbs of green coffee beans that I will roast at home, and wine kit boxes which I put into fermentation mode the next day.  (It is so interesting to lift the lids and see the swirling movement of billions of active little yeasties gobbling up the sugars in the pinot grigio and cabernet sauvignon grape concentrates).  This may not be Napa Valley quality, but it is delicious in the boonies at Latitude 61.

 

In general, mid-January to mid-February may not be the most appealing month of the year.  But maybe experiencing it is important to appreciate the rest of the year.