Homesteading Middles: Kindling, Pruning, and Winter Greens
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“Dragon, we are running low on kindling.”
“I’m on it Dada!”
Regal with purpose he strode to the side door. “Dragon, aren’t you going to put on slippers, my love?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He grabbed the heavy hammer, pushed open the door, and got to work.
BOOM! BOOM! The heavy hammer bashed against oak. The oak so carefully positioned on the metal splitter for kindling. His whole body was focussed on the task - socks soft on the cold wood.
5 minutes later Dragon tapped on the glass with arms full of skinny wood. His eyes glowed with accomplishment.
“Look what you did!”
“Look what I did!”
Later that day, we were out pruning the apple trees. Why do we prune apple trees in the winter time? Because there is less chance of disease and pest damage to the open bark if you make the cuts in the wood when it is cold. Fruit trees are apparently not super hardy in this regard.
The tricky thing about pruning is when to stop. How much of the middle does one open up? How much pruning is too much pruning? I learned in my Master Gardener class that you want to be able to throw a football through the branches of the trees. Every year is a grand experiment.
An unexpected bonus of pruning the apple trees is what happens when you look over the land with shears in hand. I noticed the wild roses (crazy thorns) growing along the pasture fence line. The thorns did not bother the sheep or the alpacas in the summer time - but they certainly bothered us on the other side of the fence when we mowed.
Or when Dragon sled down the hill and landed into a thorn bush last winter.
“Momma, I am so excited we are cutting down the pokey-poke bush. I don’t want to run into it again, that was awful.”
“That was awful. The winter is the best time to do it because we are protected with all of our clothing.”
"Momma, can I use this scratchy stick to scrape the snow?”
“Of course Dragon.”
Before heading inside to defrost in front of the fire with its replenished kindling pile, I did one last thing.
I walked to the greenhouse.
During summer 2020 we built a greenhouse. I had wanted a greenhouse the moment I walked into Shannon Brines’ greenhouse in Michigan. The wind was howling. It was 18 degrees. There was snow on the ground.
The inside was warm and humid and peaceful. The winter greens were so soft and welcoming and magical.
I feel that way every time I walk into our greenhouse in the snow and see the fresh green carpet. All outside is gray and white and brown and piercing. All inside is soft and warm and welcoming. It is glorious.
So I harvested claytonia, parsley, and bok choy. I tucked them into my coat so they wouldn’t be frostbitten by the cold wind and wandered back to make a fire and warm my toes.
I am so grateful for this homesteading life. To feed the earth and have her feed us in return. The big circle continues and grows - ripples and circles and echoes and waves.
