The Beauty of Winter Trees

Natural settings can speak to people, make them feel at home.  One of my sisters has  been attracted to oceans, another to the desert.  For me, it is forest settings that have always beckoned.

 Every morning, I feel a sense of peace and gratitude as I look out my window at the mature Boreal Forest in which I live.  I regard the trees as my friends, mentors, caregivers, and benefactors.  Alive, they protect me from sun, wind, and cold; they yield nutrients and medicine, as well as beauty. Dead, they continue their beneficence, transformed into my cabin, decks, docks, furniture and fire wood.   

Trees at noon in December

This time of year, I watch the long blue shadows of birch and spruce trees slither across the snow and I am dazzled by the brightness of hoarfrost that coats every surface of the trees.  An occasional owl hoots or raven caws, but otherwise, our winter woods are silent and magnificent.

Almost every afternoon in February and March, my husband and I drive a snowmachine (snowmobile) and sled into the woods along trails we groomed several days before and left to harden.  Our goal is to cull 11 cords of standing dead spruce trees each year for firewood to heat our home and the outdoor soaking tub.  

Sadly, our part of Alaska was infested by spruce beetles about eight years ago.  These tiny insects killed most of the mature white and black spruce throughout millions of acres.  It was very sad to cut down the three stately 85 foot trees near our cabin, but it is even worse to view the skeletal remains.  Dead trees are hazardous, too, both for fire and falling, so every year since the infestation, we pick an area, first on our property, and subsequently, on the state land that surrounds us, to cull dozens of dead trees.  They are put to good use. 

Hoar frost on the trees

Aside from the practical aspect of gathering firewood, this seasonal project generates joy, as well.  Although the beetles devastated mature trees, they did not kill the saplings.  Trees below about 10 feet tall survived the onslaught.  Every time we fell a thicket of dead ones, we find spindly young conifers below them.  Next summer, they will enjoy more sun and space to grow straight and tall and healthy.  In subsequent years, other plants colonize the clearings, too, predominantly prickly rose, elderberry, and highbush cranberry.  Hares, martens, and weasels burrow under the dead branches that clutter the forest floor.

In March, as the snow begins to soften and rot, springy alders and highbush cranberries pop up from their heavy blanket of snow, waving for a moment before they assume a vertical position for summer.  

When the snow starts to recede in April, brown doughnuts of soaked earth encircle the warming trees.  My husband and I tap several birch trees for ten days before the leaves emerge, drinking the bracingly cold sap straight, as well as using it in any recipe that requires water, such as coffee, rice, and homemade wine and beer.  The clear liquid is a nutritious spring tonic, chock full of vitamin C and minerals, such as iron, zinc, calcium, and potassium.  It tastes slightly sweet and vaguely woody.  Eau de paper bag.    

When the soil dries up, I wander through our property, carrying flagging tape and pruners.  I clip the broken branches of saplings and cut out trunks girdled beneath the snow line by hungry hares and voles.  With delight I flag tiny seedlings so that I will not trample or weed whack them when the fast growing wild grasses obscure them.   In subsequent years I marvel as these tiny growths add branches and height, in many cases growing out of the stumps of dead trees.

My woods are a vibrant community of the elderly and the young, the sick and the healthy.  I wander in wonder and awe.   

Ways to Save Eggs for Months

Egg laying is partially predicated on the season.  Our hens, of various breeds, are always most prolific layers in the summer months.  In the autumn, when they molt (shed their feathers and grow new ones) they do not lay at all for 6 to 8 weeks.  During the cold winter months in Alaska, they shiver in the chilly coop, laying maybe half as often as in the summer.  It is only in March, when we have 12 hours of daylight, that they venture out into the snow and start to lay regularly again.

Therefore, I learned various ways to save eggs to eat during the molt and all winter.

Note:  In the USA, people who buy eggs at a supermarket are purchasing eggs that are washed, which removes the bloom, which is a clear thin coating that the hen naturally produces as she lays to protect the egg from bacteria and dirt.  This is why, in this country, eggs are stored in the refrigerator.  

 In the many other countries that do not wash the shells first, shopkeepers store eggs on room temperature shelves, and millions of shoppers store them at home this way, too, up to about 21 days, depending on ambient temperature.   

Since we do not wash our hens’ eggs either, I store them in a large metal bowl on a kitchen counter for up to three weeks.  If I am surfeited with eggs, I store them long term in the various ways listed below.

The following are my experiences and opinions.  Someone else's could be different.  

HOW TO TEST EGGS FOR FRESHNESS

Put any questionable eggs in a deep, flat bottomed pot and cover them with water.  If any float, air has gotten inside the shell and you do not want to eat them.  If they rise slightly off the bottom and turn sideways, I cook them sooner than the eggs that do not rise or tip at all.

LONG TERM EGG STORAGE

GLASSING

I do not know why the term, “glassing” is used for this technique, which involves submerging raw eggs (in their shells) in a lime solution and setting the crock or food grade bucket somewhere, undisturbed, at room temperature.  I have successfully cooked with eggs that I glassed and stored at room temperature for nine months. I have read in Mother Earth News, that people have stored them for two years.  The most I have stored for 9 months is 125, in two food grade 5 gallon buckets with lids. 

To make the solution, I measured out a proportion of 8:1  water to pickling lime, and then heated the water enough that the lime dissolves, stirring thoroughly.  After it cools to room temperature, I pour it into a food grade bucket and gently place unwashed, fresh eggs into the water, making sure that no egg shells rise above the solution.  Over time, the solution will sink to the bottom, so it is important to gently stir up that bottom layer, to recoat the shells.  I do this once a month.   

One year, I neither heated the water nor stirred once a month.  Big mistake!  The eggs on the bottom layer were practically cemented to each other in the lime, but the eggs above the bottom layer rotted.  What a noxious job it was to pull those out and toss away 60 eggs!  Plus, I hate wasting food.

When cooking with the eggs that have been glassed for several months, I rinse them first, and then crack them into a transitional bowl to check.  I find that both the yolks and whites are runnier than fresh eggs, so they are better suited to scrambling, custards, or baking than for fried eggs.

IMPORTANT:  This treatment works only for farm fresh, unwashed eggs that still have the protective “bloom” on the shell.

FREEZING

1)      FAVORED:  Raw beaten eggs can be poured into muffin tins or ice cube trays, frozen, and then popped out to be stored in plastic bags or other containers.  It is helpful to measure the amount of one eggy ice cube for future recipes.  I found that a muffin tin holds about an egg and a half, and my ice cube trays held less than one egg.  These individual units thaw quickly.  When scrambled, the texture of these frozen, raw eggs is the same as unfrozen, raw eggs.  I rarely separate eggs and yolks for recipes, but you can do so and freeze the beaten raw yolks separately from the raw whites.  Either way, freezing raw eggs in measured portions is a very convenient and reliable method.

2)      NOT FAVORED:  Hard boiled eggs can be frozen in or out of the shell.  Shelled eggs will crack when the interior expands in the cold.  Either way, the texture of the white will be rubbery but the yolk will feel normal..  I freeze whole eggs as a winter treat for my dog or hens, but I would not serve them to people.   

3)      VARIABLE RESULTS:  Raw, eggy recipes, like quiche, pancake batter, etc. can be made in advance, packaged well, and frozen, to be thawed overnight for cooking the next morning. I have done so short term with a number of brunch dishes for large gatherings.  NOTES:  a) Like anything in a freezer, if it is not wrapped well and if it is frozen long term, it will develop ice crystals, making the recipe more watery. (b) Many raw vegetables do not freeze well, but cooked vegetables do.

   

PICKLING

My husband and I are not fans of pickled eggs, but many people like them.  To me the texture is rubbery and the vinegar/egg combo is unappealing.  However, my father-in-law told me that “back in the day” pickled eggs were a staple snack food, often free, on the bar at pubs.

 

SAVING EGG SHELLS

 I utilize all the egg shells, too.

1)      If you want to reduce the bitterness of a batch of coffee, drop a half egg shell in your percolator or coffee maker.

2)      To give my dog extra calcium, I grind up dried egg shells and sprinkle it on his food.

3)      I crush hundreds of egg shells each year and distribute the material in my gardens.  The shells have several benefits:  calcium, of course, and the texture lightens heavy soil, and the sharp edges are supposed to deter slugs and other soft bodied pests, although the amount of egg shells in my gardens has never deterred slugs in rainy summers.

In conclusion, we love raising hens for fresh eggs and all the other benefits that hens bring to our homestead.  As with any summer bounty, like zucchini, it is useful to figure out how to save eggs for later in the year and how to utilize the shells. Waste not, want not! Don’t take July’s production for granted.  Planning ahead for low productivity later in the year will be well rewarded.

Winter Preps to Raise Food in Alaska + Recipe - Bubbles and Squeak

(My book, Log Cabin Reflections, is available on Amazon.  Each chapter includes pictures of our off-grid, off-road life in remote Alaska.)

Buddy preparing to haul

We live in USDA Zone 3b, which means that not only is our growing season short, but also winter temperatures can plummet to -35 F.  Still, we do have a number of hardy perennials plants (like berries, rhubarb, and horseradish) but obviously fewer perennials than warmer climates enjoy.

To maximize food growth in summer, I start almost all annual (and desired perennial) plants in the winter, some outside, and some in.

Winter sowing:  This practice is so easy and low maintenance that it almost does not sound feasible, but it does indeed results in healthy plants.  It works best for seeds that need cold stratification (a period of several cold weeks before warming up) and for those that like to sprout in cool spring weather.  To winter sow, I save plastic vinegar and distilled water jugs, slice them around the middle except for a hinge near the handle, fill with about 4 inches of soil, water it with a soil nutrient/root stimulater, sow the seeds and then leave the jugs outside, tied to a banister post so they will not blow away in a heavy wind.  In the spring, when the air warms up, I water the soil lightly and the seeds sprout!  

This method works beautifully for cabbage, onions, garlic, and spinach.  For flowers, it has worked well for valerian, delphinium, lupines.  For some reason, I did not have success with poppies or yarrow.

An alternative that can be done in warm weather, is to store damp seeds in a baggy in the refrigerator for several weeks.  I have done this, too, but the sprouts were so delicate that they did not transplant well for me. 

 

Testing germination:  Seeds age out.  If stored in a cool, dry, dark location, most can be expected to last for 3 years, but beyond that is a gift not to be presumed.  People living in humid and hot environments may find that their seeds age out faster than mine.

Cabin on a sunny winter morning

Last winter, I was determined to get rid of dead seeds, so as not expect that a packet was viable.  I separated and test germinated the oldest packages (2016 - 2019).  To do so, I dampened a paper napkin cut in half, rolled ten seeds into it and inserted this bolus shaped napkin in a small baggy which I labelled with seed name and the average range of germination timing.  Ten seeds makes it easy to extrapolate to the percentage of viable seeds in the packet.  All six varieties of peppers were dead as were the cucumbers and onions.  Beans rotted in the damp.  Some of the seeds of two varieties of rhubarb germinated, as did corn, beets, radishes, one of the tomato packages and one of the tomatillo packages, and to my surprise, watermelon.  I gave all the dead seeds to the chickens as a winter snack. 

From now on, I will do this every winter, to ensure that I have seeds on hand that will produce a good crop.  Those that are dead I can reorder in time for a snowmachine delivery for March-April starts indoors.    

Germinating in a cold oven: I set almost all of my little seed pots in a cold gas oven.  The pilot light keeps the interior a more consistent, toasty temperature than my wood heated home offers, in the mid '70s, which is a germination temperature enjoyed by most seeds.  In side by side comparisons, the seeds that start in the oven sprout several days ahead of their comrades outside the oven. This location is also good for seeds that require darkness to sprout, like cilantro.

Mini-greenhouse:  In a corner of my cabin, I have a 4 shelf mini-greenhouse (6ft h x 3ft w x 2ft d) covered with a plastic sheath with two zippers on the front.  Each shelf has two grow lights.  This environment stays warmer and more humid than the southern windows, where I used to start seeds.  I always sow slow germinating plants, like oregano, in February, as well as fast growing greens that we can enjoy as small, fresh salads or sandwich toppings by early March.  As with the winter sowing, I always add a root stimulator to the soil or water.  One caution is that the plastic can make the environment humid enough to encourage the growth of gray, fluffy mold on the surface of the soil.  To mitigate that, I roll the plastic front “door” up over the top of the structure during daylight hours and close it up at night. 

Challenges:

1.    This year, I dug up the annual herbs before the gardens froze and brought them inside, hoping that they would overwinter in the mini-greenhouse.  However, I found that even with the grow lights on for about 8 hours they did not thrive.  They prefer 12+ hours of light.  The result was not worth the effort, so I dried the remaining leaves, put the pots outside and will seed them again in February.

2.  A mistake that I often make is to start plants too early because I am so eager.  This results in leggy plants that are weak when transplanted outside.  One year, my potato plants lay sideways on the ground!

     Every gardener has his or her hacks and a history of hits and misses.  These are a few that work for me so that I can utilize the cold and lazy months of winter to get a head start on a fast and furious summer of food production.

 RRECIPE:  Bubbles and Squeak

Bubbles and Squeak – what an evocative name for left overs!  This side dish or entrée is mentioned in British texts as far back as the 1700s.  It is a tasty way to use up a combination of leftover mashed potatoes, vegetables, and bits of meat. (Note:  if you like this recipe, check out Irish Colcannon, which is similar, but adds milk.)          

Melt 6 oz butter in a large, flat pan.

Sautee ½ cup chopped or diced onion and garlic to taste, about 3 minutes.

Add 2 cups of mashed potatoes.  Thoroughly saturate with the melted butter.

Add 1 cup chopped, raw, green vegetables and mix in well with the potato.  Cabbage is traditional, but any leafy green or diced broccoli will work nicely.  Mix in any cooked, chopped meat, if desired, like ham or sausage.

At this point, decide whether you want the final product to be loose or individual patties.

If the former, warm through and serve, as a hash.

If the latter, shape the food into patties and chill for an hour or more, then fry in additional oil, pressing down on the patties to crisp up the cooking surface, and then flip, press, cook, and then serve. 

Bubbles and Squeak is tasty either way.  The only difference is texture and presentation.

Spring: Lake Breakup in Alaska: From Snowmachine to Kayak in 2 weeks

The end of winter 2023 was S-L-O-W.  We finally put away our snowmachines on April 28.  But after that, the transition from ice to water on the lake took a mere two weeks.

When migrating geese and cranes flew overhead in late April/early May, our dog loped toward them, along the hard packed snowmachine tracks that traversed the lake ice, only to be surprised when he sank several inches as he veered off into the soft and rotting snow on either side of the path. We saw the snow change color as both it and the underlying lake ice melted.  In some light conditions, the streaks of color looked almost Caribbean: sea green, light blue, and sand colors, until the ice got super thin and looked black.

Within a meager two weeks, KAYAK SEASON arrived.  Yea!  Despite plenty of snow on the ground, on May 13, we three kayaked among the ice floes.  To my dismay, Buddy jumped off the bow onto a soft ice floe and sank into frigid water.  We hauled him into the kayak, all 65 pounds of him, and returned home to warm him up with blankets and food.  Two days later though, the lake was ice free on May 15, as usual.  Such a reliably punctual date over many decades.  We kayaked along the periphery of the lake while Buddy ran along shore through snowmelt and soggy bogs, throwing off sprays of water.  He sniffed all the various scents on air, water, and soil, and looked absolutely delighted.  Until mid-Oct, we kayak every day that lacks high winds or heavy rain, accompanied by homemade wine (for me) and homemade beer (for Bryan) and peanuts for all three of us. Each week something else blooms, changes color, and scents the air.

In breakup, we start to see and hear many more neighboring creatures than we did in the depths of winter.  One day in late May, we saw our first moose of the year – a large, blonde one across the lake.  The next day, Buddy startled a river otter or beaver out of the brush which leapt into the lake.  (I caught a mere glimpse of the round, brown head from the corner of my eye, so I am not sure of the species.) 

As a Labrador mix, our dog is attuned to birds.  Fortunately, all water fowl have skills and abilities that exceed his.   Like Wiley Coyote, who never caught Roadrunner, Buddy is eager to chase the ducks but never, ever catches one.  When from shore he spies a pair swimming, he wriggles his butt, circles his tail, makes a distinctive whine, and jumps into the cold water, swimming toward them.  The ducks take his measure, let him approach to a specific distance, and then fly safely to the far shore.  By contrast, loons dive with their strong feet and reappear 100 or so feet away.  Buddy looks left and right, slows down, and then resignedly paddles to the nearest shore.  Foiled again. After a few days of this, the ducks wisely decided to lay nests in the grass and shrubs along the twin lakes behind us, where their progeny can incubate and hatch, unmolested.  But adults still visit here, feeding on larvae and perhaps baby pike and pike eggs.  

 

Before 2015, I used to LOVE seeing loons raise and train 8 - 12 soft, fluffy fledglings on our lake.   The little ones learned to dive and fly in Keystone Cops commotion.  I don’t know why the loons stopped laying eggs here at that time.  Since then (7 years before our dog joined us in 2022), we see visiting pairs of loons and many species of migrating fowl but no resident families.  It was around that year that spruce beetles devastated the region’s forests, so perhaps other elements of the eco-system attractive to loons changed then, too.

Whatever the reasons may be, each year the changes from winter to spring are fast and dramatic both on the lake and on land. (See blog about land changes in next article).

Two Health Evacuations from Bush Alaska

Laura on snowmachine with Buddy

A frequent question we are asked about living a 3.5 hour snowmachine trek away from the nearest road is, “What do you do in a health emergency?”  Well, now, after two health-related evacuations, I can answer that question.

1)  Last winter, my husband experienced chest pain for several days.  He feared that he was experiencing a cardiac issue and was, therefore, not confident about snowmachining to town to reach a doctor.  Fortunately, we have an annual subscription to a Life Flight company.  For the first time, Bryan called them, described his symptoms, and 45 minutes later, a helicopter pilot and her two burly medics landed on our remote lake to whisk him off to a regional hospital.

Three EKGs later, the doctors told Bryan that he did not have a cardiac problem and, in doctor language, told him to go home and suck it up.  A friend snowmachined him home.  To my relief, insurance paid for the life flight ($24,000). 

2) This winter, my back most molar started to hurt and over three days, grew very painful.  Clearly, I required either an extraction or a root canal. I found an emergency dentist in Wasilla who could see me on short notice.  Unfortunately, we were in the midst of a three day snowstorm of wet, heavy snow!  We did not trust our old, narrow, 660 cc snowmachines to deliver me safely without bogging down several times along the route. 

So Bryan called a reliable and resourceful family that we have engaged over several years for many reasons, including to build about half of our 8 buildings, haul in supplies in March, and sell us delicious frozen chickens.  In fact, we had a delivery date scheduled shortly for fuel.  He asked if they could move up the intended date in order to take me with them on the back haul.  Sure enough, the very next day, the intrepid son and daughter, Anson and Oceana (probably in their early 20s), arrived, coated in snow, but without the expected load of gasoline.  The snow they traveled through was so wet and heavy that it grabbed their skis and tread, adding weight to the machines and belabored the engines.  So they left the sled loaded with 200 gallons of gasoline (about 1600 lbs) on the Susitna River rather than hazard getting stuck on the steep and sinuous woodsy trails to our home. 

A freight hauling sled

We stowed my small overnight bag and then I clambered up onto the comfortable rear seat (with heated handlebars) on one of the two, powerful 900 cc vehicles.

The first half of the trek was gorgeous.  In fact, Anson and I both used the phrase, “Winter Wonderland.” Young spruce trees bowed low under the weight of the snow.  The ancient, twisted trees of the boreal forest suggested fanciful forms, like hunched gnomes and ballerinas with arched arms.  One upturned root ball looked like a rabbit profile.   Other trees, buffeted by wind, careened into others, forming bridges and tripods.   The narrow trail veered left and right, up and down, following a series of little reflective markers nailed into trees.   In the dense woods, we traveled at about 10 – 12 mph and were protected from the wind.  On the flats (ice covered lakes and snow covered bogs),  we sped up to 25 mph through snow and sleet that pelted our faces.

Two hours later, in the waning light of afternoon, we encountered the first little cabins, dotting the ridge above the river, as well as a moose resting out of the wind.  My competent team of snowmachiners hitched the sled of gasoline to one vehicle, and then tethered the two machines together to power the load uphill out of the river valley.  We managed each hill this way.

Overflow, which is a thick layer of slushy ice water on top of the lake ice (and insulated by the new snow)  encumbered our passage across a broad lake that we know is fed by springs.  Oceana dropped me off at the far end of the water way, to shed some weight, and then she and her brother tied the two vehicles together to pull the heavy sled fast and hard through the water to an elevated shore.  There,  Anson lay on the ground to scoop out wet snow clinging to the skis and tread.  A very large moose, which I did not see when he was still, caught my eye as he lumbered away from the noisy engines.

Our plane in overflow on the lake.

After 3.5 hours, I saw, through the sleet and darkness, the first fence and telephone pole I had seen since my prior trip to town in September.  We skirted a small natural gas plant where gas lines from the Cook Inlet connect to other gas lines on this side of that waterway.   Shortly thereafter, we stopped abruptly because a moose was resting in the middle of the hard packed snow trail.  He or she reluctantly moved a few feet so we could pass, and then quickly returned to the marginally warmer spot.  Finally, we reached Anson’s home, from which his parents kindly drove me to a friend’s house to spend the night before my much needed visit to the dentist the next morning.  He extracted the tooth and its roots in a noisy/scary but pain-free procedure.

Because Anson had out-of-town friends visiting the following week, he could not take me home right away.  So, since I was on the road system and could get to the airport, I booked a last minute flight to San Francisco where I was able to visit my father, sister, and brother.  During that week, the Alaska night time temperatures dropped enough to harden up the snow for a faster and easier return cross-country.  When the snow was firm,  I flew back to Anchorage, spent the night, drove 45 minutes north, spent another night, and finally rode home with Anson on a beautiful, sunny day, toward “My Mountain” which increasingly dominated my field of vision, welcoming me home.  I arrived  at 4.30 pm with a load of mail, lots of store bought food, one less tooth than I used to have, and great appreciation for the “can-do” attitude of Anson’s intrepid family.   

All’s well that ends well.