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Yesterday six of our geese went to that happy grazing ground in the sky. They became food stored in the freezer for us to appreciate, enjoy and share with others.
Our daughter, Chicken Mama, offered to help us with the project, and holy moly, we really, really appreciated her assistance. Having her able input knocked a couple of hours off the butchering time, I'm sure.
Here Chicken Mama is doing some hand plucking while her dad is using the plucking machine with another bird.
We tried to keep all of the feathers corralled but a breeze insisted on distributing them all over the acreage sometimes looking just like huge snowflakes floating through the air.
All three of us tried to guess what the dressed weight of the geese would be. My daughter and hubby both guessed they would be about seven pounds each, and I put in my estimate at five pounds. The geese were Shetlands which are one of the smaller breeds. When all was said and done, they ranged from 5.0 pounds to 5.75 pounds. We butchered three females and three males. I was surprised that the males didn't weight substantially more than the females but I suppose that wouldn't have happened until they had reached their full maturity.
While we were working we all reminisced about how much we'd enjoyed watching the geese stuffing themselves on green grass, having a good ol' time in the pond on a daily basis, eating their share of grain and kitchen treats all summer. Their hands-down favorite goodie was watermelon rinds. No doubt about it, they had a good life filled with lots of fresh air and sunshine and were super-healthy.
Mother and Father Goose are still with us and I'm sure will adjust quickly to their empty-nest life in their snug shelter this coming winter.
I know I'll really appreciate having a lot less goose poop in the poultry yard.
Was Halloween simpler years ago or is it just my childhood memories that make it seem so?
These days the kids put on their costumes to go to school for a party during the day and often there is some kind of a Halloween Carnival at school in the evening. Churches sponsor Halloween parties as do community centers, youth groups, boy and girl scout organizations, 4-H groups, and libraries. I know many of the organized parties of today are to make it safer for children in these less than carefree times. Matter of fact, going from house to house these days is simply not done in many areas.
Back in my day (she says in a quavering voice and banging her cane for emphasis), I never remember having had a purchased costume. Ours were always pulled together with clothing or materials readily available at home. Anything elaborate (or expensive!) didn't enter into the picture. Often, I can remember wearing the same get-up for more than one Halloween.
I can recall my mom wrapping me in the afghan off the couch to which I added a headband and feather made out of construction paper. I was a squaw . . . clad in a granny square afghan. Or I was a hobo in my oldest jeans and flannel shirt with a red bandana stuffed with crumpled newspaper tied to the end of a stick which I carried over my shoulder. This costume was made a titch more exotic by Mom burning the end of a cork and smearing it on my face so I looked sufficiently grubby.
Being a cowboy wasn't hard if I could talk my brother into letting me use his cowboy hat and cap gun and holster set. And I'm positive he and I both got a lot of mileage out of an old white sheet when we became ghosts on alternating years.
We didn't have parties to go to but looked forward with great anticipation to walking around our whole residential block and stopping at each and every house. (Well, except for the house of Old Grouchy Mr. Bushman whom everybody was afraid of.) I can't remember going anywhere but around our own block.
Many of the treats we received in that day were homemade. And we knew what houses had the best treats. Our very first stop of the night would be on the opposite side of the block from where we lived. The lady of that house made the best popcorn balls and if you didn't get there the first part of the evening, they would be gone. I have no idea how many she made but she always ran out of them way before the night was over.
The trick or treating couldn't start until it was dark. (Nowadays, kids in our area are asked to be back home BEFORE dark.) No one was driven around in cars. We all walked and I can still remember what seemed to me to be the strangest sensation of seeing our darkened sidewalks teeming with kids shuffling along in their homemade costumes and clutching bags of goodies. It was the only time there was such a concentrated population of people in the neighborhood after dark.
Well, I'm sure Halloween was simpler during my childhood. Most everything was simpler in the 1950s. It was probably the Golden Age for growing up in America. Things were just basically saner and safer then. Nearly all women were at home practicing the art of homemaking and they were the binding forces that created a strong sense of community in neighborhoods.
I wonder if kids now enjoy all of their parties as much as my generation did when we had but a couple of hours in the evening to go door-to-door in the neighborhood trick or treating?
Oh. My. Gosh. I just watched a three minute video on Jenyfer Matthews blog that really, really spoke to me. If you so desire, go to her blog and scroll down to the post, "Will I Be Pretty?"
This past Tuesday Jennifer Jo over at Mama's Minutia wrote a blog post entitled, "The Morning Kitchen," in which she included a picture of her kitchen. But the unique twist to this was that the picture was taken from outside her house looking in.
Have you ever driven through a town at night just after it's gotten dark and everyone has turned on their inside lights? I love the sneak peek it gives me into the different homes. (Does that make me a bad person?) To me it always imparts a soft, warm, cozy feel to the homes . . . and yet it's seldom that we catch a glimpse of our own homes in that way.
Jennifer Jo's blog and picture intrigued me so much that I went outside on the front deck this morning and snapped this picture of my own morning kitchen.
I didn't manage to get the lovely, ethereal look to my picture as Jennifer did. Maybe we're short on etherealness around here . . . or maybe she already had a pot of something wonderful simmering on the stove that fogged up her windows.
Anyway, I'm sending out this challenge to all of you. Join me (and Jennifer Jo) in the TBHPTPP Club. (The Blogger's Harmless Peeping Tom Picture Post Club.) Take a picture of your own morning kitchen (from the outside looking in) and post it on your blog.
I double-dog dare ya.
I finished processing the last of the squash for the freezer today. Yes, I did. The last of it. I'm sure. I am real tired of processing squash.
Cut the squash in half and clean out all the pulp and seeds.
Into a pan, cut side down, and add about an inch of hot water to pan. Then into a 375 degree oven for 60-90 minutes, until the squash flesh is very tender. ( I can fit four pans in my oven at once.)
I let them cool a little before scooping the cooked squash out with a spoon. (They sure do get hot sitting in that oven.)
It all goes into a bowl. At this point, the squash looks pretty lumpy, bumpy, and chunky. Since I plan on using this squash I'm freezing as a substitute for a purchased can of pumpkin, it needs to be pureed so that it's smooth.
I don't know the technical name for this food strainer so we'll call it a food strainer. The squash chunks and lumps get pushed through and caught in another bowl.
After straining it goes into freezer bags in two cup amounts. I freeze the bags flat so they stack compactly in the freezer.
My method probably isn't the most efficient or best way but it did the job for me.
Addendum: For my very last bowlful of squash, instead of using the food strainer, I beat the DIV-el (as my Scottish grandma used to say) out of it with my hand mixer. That seemed to be almost a little easier than using the food strainer. A lot easier to clean up, too!
Here Chicken Mama is doing some hand plucking while her dad is using the plucking machine with another bird.
