Farmer's market haul - June 23

Today I signed up for a plot in our community garden. I can’t say as I have any real experience gardening, but I want to learn a lot more about how to grow things sustainably, and I like the idea of eating things I grew.

The garden is on dykeland, which is rich stuff. It must have been good soil for Acadians to work so hard to reclaim the land in the mid-1700s. I understand that it is clay, but rich and wet. People are floating ideas for improving and breaking up the soil over the long-term. For this year, it’ll be disced.

I have ordered seeds from Hope Seeds in New Brunswick and Salt Spring Seeds in BC. I have heard good things about both but have tried neither. I chose things to eat fresh, particularly if they are expensive to buy, like salad greens and tomatoes. No sense planting winter vegetables that are cheap and plentiful to find locally and that take up a lot of room to grow. Herbs and beans I also decided to get, on the grounds that herbs can be dried and stored in a small space, and I want to learn how to grow dry beans.

I’m approaching my garden plot as a learning and experimentation tool. I’d love to make up the cost of seeds in produce, but if everything rots and dies, I still have money to buy my food. It’s a good testing of the waters, and a chance to help out with the community farm to work toward sustainable food sources.

The food bank can accept our excess fresh produce fortnightly; I hope to help out as much as possible, particularly since by my count the region has lost approximately 500 jobs over the past three months. It is in the times when I have less money that I really feel the privilege of being able to give, and if I could give someone food I grew myself, well, I would be proud.

And, as a friend pointed out, I could walk to the garden on my lunch break this summer, pick a fresh tomato, and cut it up for a sandwich. That’s got to be a lifestyle worth pursuing.

Every household should make whatever efforts are possible to prepare to go 72 hours without power, and possibly without water, in case of emergency. But how to do so if you are single, low-income, and move frequently (that is, can’t own a lot of stuff)? Here are my considerations, mid-implementation in the face of depleted stores and a storm watch.

Light and Heat

I have stockpiled candles and three tins of Sterno-type fuel (“canned heat”), safe for indoor use. Total cost was around twelve dollars. These will give enough heat to take the edge off a room.

Where else can you get warm? Here, the fire station is a safe place to seek help. One of the university buildings also has a large wood fireplace. It’s good to have a mental list of places to go – a library or school, a community centre, a store, a church or house of worship. Each of these can help, or at least, point you toward better resources. I should hope there would be no cost involved in finding a place to warm up, except possibly the cost of transportation.

For light, there are a few options, such as candles, oil lamps, battery-powered lamps, flashlights, and headlamps. Hurricane lanterns are cheap – I found one for two dollars once, but they are ten or fifteen dollars at the hardware store. Wicking and small bottles of oil may be found at a big-box store or hardware store. Flashlights are cheap, batteries a little more. They are handy. I have a Coleman LED lantern that cost about twenty-five dollars. It is compact and bright, and takes 4 AA batteries. I like having it, because it gives a good light without having to hold it the way I would a flashlight.

Candles are fine for sober, responsible adults who will not leave them unattended. I would love to have a party during an extended outage, but not a candle-lit one. It makes sense to invite friends and neighbours, and share food before it spoils, letting body heat warm a room. If people bring instruments, so much the better, and they will certainly bring stories. It would be a night to remember. Open flame must be off the list, though, because tipsy elbows would create a disaster.

Barbecues, Sterno stoves, and outdoor camp stoves are the likeliest options for cooking. There is a pretty awesome barbecue on our porch, which I imagine would be the primary cookstove in any extended outage. It’s easy enough to make meals wrapped in tin foil and grilled. I am already craving chopped up root vegetables with sausage and spices, and maybe apples with cinnamon baked for dessert or a snack. I would like to have a little stove so that I can cook safely with Sterno fuels inside, but the barbecue does the job.

Extra clothing and blankets for keeping warm – do your best. Spare blankets are a luxury of the settled, but most people with internet access probably have more clothes than they can wear at once. I do know how to layer clothing and move around to help stay warm. Even if you don’t own long johns, you can wear an undershirt, t-shirt, long-sleeved t-shirt, sweater, and vest or jacket all together.

Communication and Emergency

I have a hand-cranked radio. I’m not sure everyone needs one, as long as they have other ways of staying informed (like neighbours with a radio). It is useful to have access to a phone, not cordless, not requiring electricity. If there is a pay phone nearby, that may suffice. If you buy a phone, they are cheap – maybe ten dollars, maybe less if used. Have the number of the power company and other emergency numbers written down where you can easily find them.

How can you physically access help? Keep this in mind when considering warming centres as discussed above.

Do you have a plan to evacuate the area in case of disaster? This step only needs planning once, each time you move. What is your route out of town? What if that road is blocked? How about transportation? I have no car, but I know people who do, and could catch a ride if needed. I am healthy and have a good idea how far I can hike or walk under different conditions. Know your limits, make a buddy plan if that helps.

If you take medication, maintain the stores as best you can.

A first aid kit is good, and doesn’t have to be purchased as such. Get bits at a time. Evaluate what you need, and what you have, and what roommates may have, and put supplies in a central location. Some sterile bandage is important, but you may already have tweezers and scissors and the like.

Change the batteries in your smoke detectors.

Food and water

Many recommendations are for two litres (half a gallon) of water per person per day for drinking and cooking, but this is a pitiful minimum. During the summer, I often use more than that in drinking water alone. Given my low risk of being without water, and my low storage space, I would like to store around 16 L of water, but for now, I have only six.

I am a believer in a stocked pantry. Not all dry goods are easy to cook with limited fuel, but I have enough for a few days. At a minimum, granola bars, jerky (meat or soy), other snacks, and heat-and-serve foods will get you by. At the moment, I have stew in the freezer, root vegetables and storage fruits in the pantry, pitas, and a few snacks. I can eat or cook or heat all of these things without power, and they (mostly) avoid pre-packaged foods with preservatives. This is my general preference for eating. If yours leans toward boxed foods, then your food preparations may be even easier.

The main thing is to avoid, if possible, having a box of foods that are only for emergency. It’s a tricky skill to keep food on hand that you like and regularly eat without actually eating all of it (so that it’s on hand for emergencies), but if you can find a system that works, then you avoid spending extra money on special food.

Cost

For myself, all supplies except the canned heat and the lantern are things I like to use or have anyway. Batteries are probably the most expensive item. I don’t count them as an emergency item, since I use them anyway, but I am still out the money. Reckon your budget as you will.

The total dollar cost of specific items for emergencies should be very low – if you don’t have a lamp or flashlight, then provide for that; first aid items; perhaps a phone; a source of heat. If you have any discretionary income, these items should be within your reach, one at a time, for a total of under fifty dollars, considerably less in an urban area with discount shopping options.

It takes time and money to build up a food reserve, but you can eat it when you move. Use the water, and recycle the containers.  Even a rented room probably has enough space. When you move, almost nothing has to come with you that you wouldn’t take anyway.

Shout-out to Sharon Astyk, whose blog focuses on learning to live with less fossil fuel in more permanent ways. Many of her ideas are difficult for a wanderer like me to consider implementing, but I appreciate the challenge to do my best.

garter stitch mittensNo trouble. Both mittens are done and ready to go. Instant gratification for knitters.

Thanks Ysolda for the pattern!

I really like knitting. I read about it a lot, get really excited waiting for each new issue of Knitty, and sing the virtues of Ravelry to anyone who won’t write me off as hopelessly geeky. I have opinions about patterns and yarns I have never even tried. What I don’t do a lot of, though, is actually knit. There are a few reasons, the primary being that my arm muscles don’t allow it. I don’t wish to risk a real repetitive stress injury that could leave permanent damage. I don’t push it. I just pretend, and cheer for other knitters while I knit a wee bit.

It’s a treat to be able to knit for someone else, though. A mentor of mine expressed a wish one day for some fingerless mittens for driving in the winter. I wasn’t able to knit for her for Christmas, but I get a second chance because she is coming to visit Halifax soon. I am really looking forward to seeing her, and excited about a trip to the city, but I think a pair of mittens would top it all off.

Requiring a very simple and fast project for a knitter of uncertain follow-through, I have turned to Ysolda’s pattern for garter stitch fingerless mitts. Just the thing! It’s clever and simple in construction, and zooms along even for a snail knitter like myself. (Seriously. Fast like Saartje’s Bootees, but without the finishing.)

same yarn, different project

I am using some leftover mulespun alpaca/wool blend from Custom Woolen Mills. It’s beautiful, soft, and bouncy, and it shows well in garter stitch. Here is a picture of the same yarn, which I used for a scarf last winter.

So far, I have one mitt knitted, and a week and a half to do the other. Even for me, that is plenty of time.

(I just asked for a freak accident to break both my wrists, I think.)

February seems great for crafting, I think. It is a month where I often want to stay home and sleep too late. One good thing that comes of it is concentrated lengths of time for creative projects.

For reasons related to Sharon Astyk’s Slow Clothing movement, but mostly stemming from my old-fashioned creative upbringing, I would very much like to be able to sew my own clothes. I am a beginner. I got mediocre grades in high school Home Ec classes and have a tendency to make my seams giant and unruly. What I do have, however, is a cock-eyed confidence that it can’t be that hard. Anyone can do it, probably. Besides, my crafting/textile/repair-related ego is boosted when friends come to me to help them sew on a button. I must be good at sewing!

Heh.

I have a skirt in progress at the moment, mostly finished after many hours of work, and now waiting for more thread. (I thought 100m sounded like a lot, like more than you would ever need, like something you would find years later in the bottom of a basket. It’s not.) I had the sort of easy pattern that an experienced seamstress/dressmaker/sewist/person-with-sewing-machine would make up in a couple of hours. I’m probably nearer twenty hours of sewing.

It’s turned out to be much more difficult than I thought, because I had cut the pattern down the first time I made it up, and now I need a bigger size. I also lost a piece, and managed to remember that the skirt pattern called for fitted waist with darts and a zipper, while in reality it has an elastic waist with no darts, no side opening, and no zipper. I require darts and a zipper. I need a skirt that will not stretch out, something that will work hard if I ask it to.

Using only the original front piece, which I sized up a little, I managed to create something workable. It fits, and I like the fabric.I’m happy enough with the waist fitting and zipper insertion. On the other hand, it has straight ruffles, which I don’t like as well as curved pieces that are fitted, then allowed to flare out. I didn’t have enough fabric for curved pieces or deep ruffles, so it’s a little puffy for my taste. The skirt is crying out for a little trim, but lace or ribbon could push the ruffled skirt off the cliff into prairie-muffin territory. Maybe I need some rivets and leather to steampunk it somehow…

I received a copy of a book called Making Mathematics with Needlework, edited by sarah-marie belcastro and Carolyn Yackel. Having a general interest in both subjects, I was thrilled to find that the intersection of them is now the topic of a book.

It must be a universal rule that geeks abound in all fields. Knitted Klein bottles regularly surface on the knitting message boards I frequent; I made one myself as a gift a few years ago. There’s even a Knitty hat pattern. In my mathematical life, I’ve known several students and faculty who are accomplished needleworkers. Fewer people, however, delve deep in an attempt to make their craft speak to their math.

Making Mathematics with Needlework consists of a series of chapters, each containing one project with one type of mathematical representation or question. Several crafts are featured: quilting, cross stitch, knitting, crochet, and blackwork. There are directions (quite thorough) for each project, good mathematical discussions, and questions for further investigative play.

I favour the Socks with Algebraic Structure, which is a straightforward intermediate knitting project that happens to represent the Klein-IV group in colourwork. The math starts off gently, with an introduction to modular arithmetic, a topic intuitively familiar to knitters. Mathematical ideas and questions abound for all levels, from “How can we check for errors without counting stitches?” to “Investigate ring properties in terms of \mathbb{Z} /{(60)} and the sock.” In this particular project, the Klein-IV group representation is almost incidental to a larger discussion of modular arithmetic and symmetry. I like this project for its accessibility in introducing quantitative thinking. Crafted representations of geometric or topological curiosities are invaluable for teaching spatial reasoning and teasing and stretching the mind, but these socks have a humbler appeal. There is a lot of nuts-and-bolts reasoning behind a sock pattern that would be within the reach of any knitter old enough to follow it.

Discussions like “the curvature of wearable pants” hint at the many laughs that must have been behind the genesis of this book, but there is serious material to enhance crafting through the use of math. I appreciated the structural analysis of stitch interactions describing possible knitted fabrics, and would like to follow the discussion with swatch in hand someday. It is satisfying to apply the mathematical appetite for completeness to stitch structure.

My knitting bias is obscuring the breadth of crafting in the book. The nearly-obligatory Moebius strip is quilted, and incorporates a zipper, and there is an intriguing crocheted shawl (incorporating Sierpinski triangles) that would make a great doily in a sturdy laceweight cotton. Two embroidery projects are attractive as well as mathematically inviting.

Most projects would be accessible to an interested beginner, both mathematically and in crafting difficulty. I have little sewing or embroidery experience, beyond some painful grade-school memories, but I would not be afraid to attempt any of these projects. I think the book would be most interesting to someone with some university-level math, or equivalent self-guided experience. It covers a lot of ground in an attempt to be broad in scope, enough that I think I would have been overwhelmed before having taken a couple of university math classes. There are concepts here that I could break down and spell out to my siblings in grade school, and others that are beyond my experience.

This book seems to invite the reader to become a jack of all trades, and a master of none. After reading it, I remember I have only scratched the surface in my own understanding of both needlework and mathematics. Ultimately, it is an enjoyable read that inspires creativity in fresh ways.

Until recently, I haven’t had success making yogurt. I used to do it when I lived in Alberta, but I lost the knack of it over the years. In Nova Scotia, dairy is so expensive that I didn’t experiment too much. Three dollars for yogurt, when milk is near two bucks a litre, seems reasonable when the homemade goods aren’t working well. But the benefits of homemade yogurt are strong: it’s cheaper than boughten, preparation takes less time than running to the store, and there’s no packaging waste.

A recent course of antibiotics inspired me to try again, so that I could fill my gut with good bugs. I used the excellent tutorial from Bean Sprouts. This time, perfect yogurt with no problems. I suspect the thermos is the key to keeping the yogurt at the right temperature. I have tried dark methods of oven trickery and pilot lights and perhaps even the slow cooker, but the simplest method is working best.

Dump milk in measuring cup. Five minutes in microwave. Twenty minutes to cool in my cold kitchen, then into the thermos with starter. Sit overnight and eat warm for breakfast in the morning. I don’t strain mine. I put in a spoonful of jam and eat for breakfast by the light of a northern window.

Jam in January is a neat gift of summer. I remember picking the berries on a summer’s evening. I couldn’t carry the whole flat home myself. It was three evenings of cooking after work to get them all put up. I don’t eat a lot of jam myself, but I can’t bear not to can in summer, and it is a great treat to be able to give jars away spontaneously.

The past six or seven months have seen two local moves as well as a move to BC and the return move back to Nova Scotia. It’s been quite a ride.

I went on a work term in BC, which was a great experience, but is most notable because I got to live with my family. With two parents and a lot of siblings, I sometimes had to hunker down to get a little space, but I never felt alone.

It has taken me a few days after returning to Nova Scotia to regain my sea legs. I got homesick. And I’ve been sick, and there’s been a cold snap, and it has been easy to get discouraged.

At the bottom of it, though, I love my home in Nova Scotia. I went to the farmer’s market yesterday, glad to see it full of familiar faces still. I bought an armload of local vegetables, dairy, and meats (and some locally roasted coffee). My roommates and I complain about the temperature in our kitchen and challenge each other at the chin-up bar. I love my house. It’s a piece of work, but it’s full of character and stories. And beyond my house, I love my town, the fields around, the valley, the province.

Buddy in the Chronicle Herald has a newcomer’s perspective that I am enjoying with fresh eyes. Dominik Diamond just moved to Nova Scotia from Scotland, and describes his captivation.

We were swept away not just by the atmosphere of Halifax, the beauty of Lunenburg and the “there’s something really funky about this place but we can’t quite put our finger on it” nature of the Annapolis Basin. But more than that was the fact that Nova Scotians were the best people we’d ever met. They were friendly, helpful and something more important than being happy — they were content.

I love the Annapolis Valley’s fantastically fertile soil, sweet trees, big climbing rocks, and loud skies. I am attached to the mix of rural living and easy access to amenities. But I wouldn’t think much of the place at all if it weren’t for the good-hearted community I’ve found.

I have chosen to focus on community this year. The word resonates with me and challenges me. It’s hard to live communally in a transient life, but that makes it more important.

waterfront

I have started attending Quaker meeting. I find it encourages mindfulness.

As I walked to meeting this week, I enjoyed the presence and beauty of the morning.

cornfield, outbuilding, and plant

There is so much to notice.

walking to meeting
I took the tracks as far as I could. It got to be pretty thick walking, since this stretch of line is not currently in use, but I like to get off roads when I can.

I had to stop taking pictures because I was running late, but it got sunny, with plenty of birds, cows, and happy bees. Eventually I reached a festival and a road, where there were people and singing and buildings, which brought me back into a busier world. Not too busy though – just enough to make the “country wave” exchanged between cars and pedestrians optional.

Blomidon fogged

No internet at home. Suspect this is probably good for me.

I just moved to a creaky huge old Victorian house with mice and flies, big windows, and a fabulous porch with a barbecue and friends who feel free to drop by. I should have done it long ago.

Summer is giving me a bad case of grad student’s dilemma: I want to be floating down the river in the sun, but if I go, I’ll feel guilty for not working. If I work, I’ll resent missing out on fun. The best compromise I’ve found so far is to make a weekly date at Paddy’s to hear the session. I don’t play in it, but I bring work and get a lot done.

I haven’t gone tubing on the river, but I’ve hiked and made strawberry jam, and learned to sort fleece, and currently I am learning to spin. Deadly.

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