Back to Basic Living

After the relatively mild start to winter, we had record breaking cold temps in this area of Virginia last week. With highs only in the 20′s and lows in the single digits, Bernie and I were particularly stressed thinking about our little house on the homestead. The well water tank sits under the house and is really only protected by the skirting. We did the best we could at winterizing – heat tape around the pipes and insulation all around the tank- but after hearing and reading about so many people with pipes that burst in the cold and frigid weather, we were really concerned what we would find when we went to our homestead this last weekend.

We left work at our usual time on Friday evening, and headed back to our home in town to pack up as quickly as possible so we could arrive at our homestead while there was still a little daylight left. That would make it easier to access any damage. So we were running through the house grabbing things and slinging them in the truck as fast as we could when I remembered my Prison Wine. You may recall I started a special batch of Grape Prison Wine and modified the recipe to make it less sweet. It’s been percolating for several weeks, and I had decided that this was the weekend I would bottle it. Well……

I had sat my precious Prison Wine on the table in the dining room that we use as a “staging area” for things that are to go with us to our homestead. I was in the kitchen grabbing some last minute groceries when I saw Bernie pick up the wine and head out to the truck. A few seconds later I heard him scream an expletive at the top of his lungs. I intuitively knew this had something to do with my Prison Wine. And I knew it was not good. Not good at all. And sure enough a few moments later Bernie came walking in with a glass jar that used to hold my precious wine – and all that was left in the bottom of it was about 20 fermented grapes. It had a huge hole busted out of the middle of it. For those of you that are in any sort of a relatively long term relationship, you will understand when I tell you that I figured out pretty quickly that something bad had just happened, and because it happened with something that was mine it would now be my fault. I was torn between crying, apologizing profusely, or running out the front door as quickly as I could. Instead I said “I’ll clean it up”. Bernie grunted as I took the ruined remains of my wine jar from his hands.

I grabbed a roll of paper towels and headed outside. I figured he had dropped the jar on the driveway. That would give me ammunition for the argument I planned to present that would clearly redeem me and place the blame squarely on him. I was certain that this wasn’t my fault and he should have been more careful. I was feeling pretty good about it as I headed out the door and looked at the driveway. What???? No wine on the driveway???? Well, what the …….. and then I looked at the floor of the backseat of our super king cab truck. There was sticky wine and big blobs of fermented grapes all over the floor. I was dumbfounded. I must have looked as bewildered as I felt because Bernie quickly said “That glass jar must have been stressed from all the travel. I sat it on the floor where I normally do and it barely clinked against that metal thingy and the next thing I knew, wine was pouring out everywhere.” I can not tell you what a pain it was to clean all that mess out of that truck. I swear that gallon jar held more like 10 gallons. It was running everywhere. We finally got it all cleaned up and took off down the road. I’m glad we didn’t get stopped by the police – the fumes were quite impressive. On the ride out to the homestead, Bernie said to me (in his most authoritative voice) “You know, the likelihood of anything breakable and containing liquid being in this truck again is slim to none. Unless it’s in a concrete container, it is strictly forbidden. No more Prison Wine in this truck. Ever. That’s it. The foot is coming down.” Blah, blah, blah. I mean really! Whatever.

As sad as I was for losing my precious wine, I was still very anxious about getting out to the homestead and learning if we suffered damage from all this ridiculously cold weather. When we finally arrived, I immediately turned on the cold water. It worked! Yay! Bernie took a flashlight and checked under the house and found no evidence of burst pipes. What a relief!

We went down to check out the bees on Saturday morning and they were angrily buzzing about how darn cold it was. Bernie even saw 3 of them come out and buzz around a bit before quickly heading back inside to let the others know it was not worth venturing out.

We spent early Saturday morning getting groceries and when it warmed up a bit we spent the afternoon cutting, splitting, and stacking wood. We have a lot of really nice oak ready to burn now.

So there you have it. Prison Wine doesn’t travel as well as I thought it did and our little homestead and Russian Bees kick serious cold weather butt. It gets better than this – but until we can move out there full time we’ll have to be happy with these little experiences. Oh – and I’ll be sure to let you know when I start my next batch of Prison Wine – and how it endures the trip in the truck out to the homestead…… in a glass jar.

Bee Free,
Penny

After the relatively mild start to winter, we had record breaking cold temps in this area of Virginia last week. With highs only in the 20′s and lows in the single digits, Bernie and I were particularly stressed thinking about our little house on the homestead. The well water tank sits under the house and is really only protected by the skirting. We did the best we could at winterizing – heat tape around the pipes and insulation all around the tank- but after hearing and reading about so many people with pipes that burst in the cold and frigid weather, we were really concerned what we would find when we went to our homestead this last weekend.

We left work at our usual time on Friday evening, and headed back to our home in town to pack up as quickly as possible so we could arrive at our homestead while there was still a little daylight left. That would make it easier to access any damage. So we were running through the house grabbing things and slinging them in the truck as fast as we could when I remembered my Prison Wine. You may recall I started a special batch of Grape Prison Wine and modified the recipe to make it less sweet. It’s been percolating for several weeks, and I had decided that this was the weekend I would bottle it. Well……

I had sat my precious Prison Wine on the table in the dining room that we use as a “staging area” for things that are to go with us to our homestead. I was in the kitchen grabbing some last minute groceries when I saw Bernie pick up the wine and head out to the truck. A few seconds later I heard him scream an expletive at the top of his lungs. I intuitively knew this had something to do with my Prison Wine. And I knew it was not good. Not good at all. And sure enough a few moments later Bernie came walking in with a glass jar that used to hold my precious wine – and all that was left in the bottom of it was about 20 fermented grapes. It had a huge hole busted out of the middle of it. For those of you that are in any sort of a relatively long term relationship, you will understand when I tell you that I figured out pretty quickly that something bad had just happened, and because it happened with something that was mine it would now be my fault. I was torn between crying, apologizing profusely, or running out the front door as quickly as I could. Instead I said “I’ll clean it up”. Bernie grunted as I took the ruined remains of my wine jar from his hands.

I grabbed a roll of paper towels and headed outside. I figured he had dropped the jar on the driveway. That would give me ammunition for the argument I planned to present that would clearly redeem me and place the blame squarely on him. I was certain that this wasn’t my fault and he should have been more careful. I was feeling pretty good about it as I headed out the door and looked at the driveway. What???? No wine on the driveway???? Well, what the …….. and then I looked at the floor of the backseat of our super king cab truck. There was sticky wine and big blobs of fermented grapes all over the floor. I was dumbfounded. I must have looked as bewildered as I felt because Bernie quickly said “That glass jar must have been stressed from all the travel. I sat it on the floor where I normally do and it barely clinked against that metal thingy and the next thing I knew, wine was pouring out everywhere.” I can not tell you what a pain it was to clean all that mess out of that truck. I swear that gallon jar held more like 10 gallons. It was running everywhere. We finally got it all cleaned up and took off down the road. I’m glad we didn’t get stopped by the police – the fumes were quite impressive. On the ride out to the homestead, Bernie said to me (in his most authoritative voice) “You know, the likelihood of anything breakable and containing liquid being in this truck again is slim to none. Unless it’s in a concrete container, it is strictly forbidden. No more Prison Wine in this truck. Ever. That’s it. The foot is coming down.” Blah, blah, blah. I mean really! Whatever.

As sad as I was for losing my precious wine, I was still very anxious about getting out to the homestead and learning if we suffered damage from all this ridiculously cold weather. When we finally arrived, I immediately turned on the cold water. It worked! Yay! Bernie took a flashlight and checked under the house and found no evidence of burst pipes. What a relief!

We went down to check out the bees on Saturday morning and they were angrily buzzing about how darn cold it was. Bernie even saw 3 of them come out and buzz around a bit before quickly heading back inside to let the others know it was not worth venturing out.

We spent early Saturday morning getting groceries and when it warmed up a bit we spent the afternoon cutting, splitting, and stacking wood. We have a lot of really nice oak ready to burn now.

So there you have it. Prison Wine doesn’t travel as well as I thought it did and our little homestead and Russian Bees kick serious cold weather butt. It gets better than this – but until we can move out there full time we’ll have to be happy with these little experiences. Oh – and I’ll be sure to let you know when I start my next batch of Prison Wine – and how it endures the trip in the truck out to the homestead…… in a glass jar.

Bee Free,
Penny

After the relatively mild start to winter, we had record breaking cold temps in this area of Virginia last week. With highs only in the 20′s and lows in the single digits, Bernie and I were particularly stressed thinking about our little house on the homestead. The well water tank sits under the house and is really only protected by the skirting. We did the best we could at winterizing – heat tape around the pipes and insulation all around the tank- but after hearing and reading about so many people with pipes that burst in the cold and frigid weather, we were really concerned what we would find when we went to our homestead this last weekend.

We left work at our usual time on Friday evening, and headed back to our home in town to pack up as quickly as possible so we could arrive at our homestead while there was still a little daylight left. That would make it easier to access any damage. So we were running through the house grabbing things and slinging them in the truck as fast as we could when I remembered my Prison Wine. You may recall I started a special batch of Grape Prison Wine and modified the recipe to make it less sweet. It’s been percolating for several weeks, and I had decided that this was the weekend I would bottle it. Well……

I had sat my precious Prison Wine on the table in the dining room that we use as a “staging area” for things that are to go with us to our homestead. I was in the kitchen grabbing some last minute groceries when I saw Bernie pick up the wine and head out to the truck. A few seconds later I heard him scream an expletive at the top of his lungs. I intuitively knew this had something to do with my Prison Wine. And I knew it was not good. Not good at all. And sure enough a few moments later Bernie came walking in with a glass jar that used to hold my precious wine – and all that was left in the bottom of it was about 20 fermented grapes. It had a huge hole busted out of the middle of it. For those of you that are in any sort of a relatively long term relationship, you will understand when I tell you that I figured out pretty quickly that something bad had just happened, and because it happened with something that was mine it would now be my fault. I was torn between crying, apologizing profusely, or running out the front door as quickly as I could. Instead I said “I’ll clean it up”. Bernie grunted as I took the ruined remains of my wine jar from his hands.

I grabbed a roll of paper towels and headed outside. I figured he had dropped the jar on the driveway. That would give me ammunition for the argument I planned to present that would clearly redeem me and place the blame squarely on him. I was certain that this wasn’t my fault and he should have been more careful. I was feeling pretty good about it as I headed out the door and looked at the driveway. What???? No wine on the driveway???? Well, what the …….. and then I looked at the floor of the backseat of our super king cab truck. There was sticky wine and big blobs of fermented grapes all over the floor. I was dumbfounded. I must have looked as bewildered as I felt because Bernie quickly said “That glass jar must have been stressed from all the travel. I sat it on the floor where I normally do and it barely clinked against that metal thingy and the next thing I knew, wine was pouring out everywhere.” I can not tell you what a pain it was to clean all that mess out of that truck. I swear that gallon jar held more like 10 gallons. It was running everywhere. We finally got it all cleaned up and took off down the road. I’m glad we didn’t get stopped by the police – the fumes were quite impressive. On the ride out to the homestead, Bernie said to me (in his most authoritative voice) “You know, the likelihood of anything breakable and containing liquid being in this truck again is slim to none. Unless it’s in a concrete container, it is strictly forbidden. No more Prison Wine in this truck. Ever. That’s it. The foot is coming down.” Blah, blah, blah. I mean really! Whatever.

As sad as I was for losing my precious wine, I was still very anxious about getting out to the homestead and learning if we suffered damage from all this ridiculously cold weather. When we finally arrived, I immediately turned on the cold water. It worked! Yay! Bernie took a flashlight and checked under the house and found no evidence of burst pipes. What a relief!

We went down to check out the bees on Saturday morning and they were angrily buzzing about how darn cold it was. Bernie even saw 3 of them come out and buzz around a bit before quickly heading back inside to let the others know it was not worth venturing out.

We spent early Saturday morning getting groceries and when it warmed up a bit we spent the afternoon cutting, splitting, and stacking wood. We have a lot of really nice oak ready to burn now.

So there you have it. Prison Wine doesn’t travel as well as I thought it did and our little homestead and Russian Bees kick serious cold weather butt. It gets better than this – but until we can move out there full time we’ll have to be happy with these little experiences. Oh – and I’ll be sure to let you know when I start my next batch of Prison Wine – and how it endures the trip in the truck out to the homestead…… in a glass jar.

Bee Free,
Penny

It was really looking like we’d get away with a mild winter all around, but someone apparently notified Old Man Winter and he showed up with a vengeance. It’s really cold and windy in the Shenandoah Valley now and the homestead is bracing for a week that won’t even see a high of 30 – if you believe the weather man – and right now, I do indeed believe him!

We got out to our little piece of tranquility Friday night amid flurries and freezing temperatures. Bernie got a nice fire going in the fire place and I threw together a pizza for supper. Saturday was blustery and I quickly talked myself out of squirrel hunting. After all, we have plenty of food out there, so it wasn’t like we needed the meat for supper – right? I ended up helping Bernie split wood and stacking it by the fireplace. We spent the afternoon trying to stay warm by the fire and I got some work done on my computer.

Today is Super Bowl, and we had hoped to spend it on the homestead and take a day off work tomorrow. Unfortunately, I have a meeting at work I can’t miss and Bernie has some things on his plate that he needs to be there for, so we ended up leaving the homestead around 11AM so we could get back to town and do our chores here before the Big Game starts.

I honestly have no interest in football, but Bernie loves it. It has become a tradition in our family that each year I throw a little Super Bowl party for Bernie – and he’s the only one that attends. Being around a bunch of people who won’t stop talking during the game really annoys him, so he prefers to watch it at home and have me serve him food while he screams at the TV and rants like a lunatic. He plans his menu months in advance and even decides the precise moment he wants to be served. This year it’s Wing Dings and celery sticks during pre-game. Then Tacos after first quarter, and enchiladas at halftime. Beer isn’t on the schedule because it will be flowing the entire afternoon.

I don’t mind giving Bernie this special treatment on this day every year. The man puts up with my dumb butt all year long, so I figure it’s the least I can do. Plus, as we already established, I’m a pretty good wife.

I’ve gotten a couple of really nice emails this week from people who appreciate the website and this blog. It really makes me happy to know that people are encouraged to begin an adventure into homesteading by looking at what we are doing and saying “If THEY can do it, so can I!” Because it really is true. We’re getting there one step at a time. I wish it would go faster, but as you know Bernie and I made an agreement that we would sell our home in town to pay off all debt before moving to our homestead full time. In the meantime, we continue to work in the city 75 miles away, pay off as much debt as we can each pay day, and spend weekends on the homestead.

Bernie checked on the bees this weekend. They were snuggled down pretty tightly. He put his ear to each hive and heard them buzzing and complaining of the cold weather. I guess none of us is happy about it right now.

Bee free,
Penny

Throughout our married life, people often comment that Bernie and I lead a very eclectic life. I’ll be the first to admit that our interests, beliefs and passions cover a very broad spectrum, but I’ve always felt that the interest in, and often confusion about, the way we live is really based on stereotypes to which others cling. I see no contradiction in fighting for freedom and liberty, holding a professional career, riding motorcycles, and homesteading all at the same time.

We spent Friday at the Capitol in Richmond. We had two bikers’ rights bills (HB2585 and HB3077) scheduled for a committee hearing at 9:00AM, so we left our house in town at 5:15AM so we could get there a little early and meet with a few delegates about them before the meeting started. I also planned to meet with Delegate Lohr concerning his amendment to the NAIS bill that was introduced here in Virginia, but could not catch him in his office. After checking his office 3 times before the committee hearing and 2 times after, the legislative aide finally suggested I make an appointment. Since I will be there tomorrow to attend the Senate committee hearing for another bill (SB909), I made an appointment for 11:00AM. I’ll let y’all know how it goes.

I promised to talk about the squirrel hunting planned for this weekend, and I am going to do that in the next paragraph. But as we leave the subject of Freedom Fighting, let me leave this quote with you:

If you will not fight for the right when you can easily win without bloodshed, if you will not fight when victory will be sure and not so costly, you may come to the moment when you will have to fight with all the odds against you and only a precarious chance of survival. There may be a worse case. You may have to fight when there is no chance of victory, because it is better to perish than to live as slaves.

Winston Churchill

As I mentioned last week, Eddie planned to take me squirrel hunting on Saturday. I hunted squirrels in my youth and although I’m pretty sure I never killed one, I do remember spending time with my cousins Mark and Emory in the woods tracking down squirrel. I certainly remember cleaning and cooking them, but the details completely escape me. So it’s been quite a while, to say the least, and a refresher course seemed wise, if not necessary. Bernie knows how to hunt squirrel, but being a smart man who knows how to keep peace in his marriage, he refused to be the one to teach me. So the job fell upon Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie loves to hunt, so he seemed eager to be the teacher. Ok, he may have only been “willing” to teach me, but I prefer to think he was, at the very least, not dreading it.

So on Thursday night Eddie announced to me that we would be leaving to go squirrel hunting “at the crack of dawn” on Saturday morning. I didn’t say anything to him, but later I commented to Bernie “You know, I see squirrel out and running around all day long. Why the heck do we have to go out at the crack of dawn on Saturday?” Bernie looked at me like I just beamed down from Mars and said “What? It’s the hunter’s way! If you’re going to be a hunter, you have to get up early . Hunters hunt early. That’s what hunters do. They get up early and they hunt.” He actually said this like it made all the sense in the world. Whatever.

So I got my butt up early, dawned my Carhartt gear and blaze orange stocking cap, grabbed the shotgun and went outside to meet Eddie on one of the coldest mornings we’ve had this winter. We took off through the woods, Eddie leading the way. He stopped under a squirrel nest and whispered “I think I saw a tail flicker.” So we stood perfectly still for about 10 minutes attempting to stare the squirrel out of the nest. Nothing happened. Finally Eddie motioned his head off to the left and we stealthily made our way to another area that looked promising. We had only gone a few yards when we heard the distinctive sound of a squirrel scurrying down a tree. Without even turning around Eddie said “He left that nest.” In a matter of seconds Eddie has whirled around and BAM – fired a shot at the squirrel as it leaped from the base of the tree. BAM – the second shot stopped the squirrel dead. Literally. Wow – I was impressed. I began to question my squirrel hunting agility. We walked over to the squirrel and Eddie picked it up so we could examine our kill. She wasn’t big, but she was fat. We high fived each other. I held my jacket pocket open and Eddie slid her in.

We spent another 5 hours out hunting for squirrels, but didn’t see hide nor hair of another one. So we decided to go in for some lunch. Eddie informed me he thought my blaze orange cap was alerting the squirrels, so I took it off. Bernie informed us he had gone out squirrel hunting for about an hour and 1/2 and he had heard several, but never gotten a good shot at one. Eddie and I asked him where he was, and then decided we would try that area after lunch. We gobbled down a sandwich and headed back out.

Eddie decided we should split up – he pointed to and area for me to check out and he took off in another direction. I very quietly walked for a while and decided to sit on a fallen tree and to see if I could hear anything. I was there only a few minutes and I heard leaves rustling. I looked over and there was a big fat squirrel, literally hauling tail as fast as he could. I got the rifle shouldered and got a bead just ahead of the direction the squirrel was running and BAM – I shot the foot of the fallen tree just as the squirrel reached it there in safety. DARNIT! That was the only shot I got off all day long. I never did see another squirrel. As I was sitting there cursing that squirrel I heard a loud BAM. Eddie got him.

We stayed out until it was almost dark and never saw another. We called it a day and Eddie showed me how to skin and clean squirrel. He did one, and then I did one. It was actually not difficult at all. We had a feast of fried squirrel, rice and gravy, potatoes and carrots, green beans, and rolls. It was really a great meal – and I’m certain I enjoyed it the most. Even though I didn’t get a kill, I did participate in the hunt and after spending the entire day out there, the squirrel could not have tasted better!

Next weekend I’m going to do a little squirrel hunting on my own. I’m not sure why there weren’t too many out on Saturday, because it warmed up nicely during the day. I’ll try again next Saturday and see what happens. But I’m not starting at the crack of dawn!

The bees are doing great – Bernie reports that they were buzzing around as it warmed up a bit on Saturday. I’m really starting to look forward to that honey in the early fall!

Bee free!

Penny

I rarely make two posts in one day, but I forgot to tell y’all a couple of things and I read somewhere that in order to have a successful blog, you shouldn’t make long posts. I have a tendency to do that, so I decided that rather than add to the previous post and make it longer, I would just create another.

I told y’all about the Albatross Prison Wine I made and promised an update when I started another batch. Well, I started another batch on January 9th using concord grapes. It’s bubbling as we speak – and it’s really smelling like alcohol already! I’ll let y’all know how it turns out in a few weeks.

I mentioned before that Bernie and I are grass roots activists. I didn’t post last weekend because we spent Saturday – Monday in Richmond, at our capitol, for Lobby Day. Bernie actually took vacation and sayed a few extra days. If you’ve never participated in Lobby Day, I strongly encourage you to do so in the future. While I would hope you let your legislators know what’s important to you through out the year, meeting with them on Lobby Day is an excellent opportunity to let them know about legislation that is important to you. If you live in Virginia, you can view the mass amount of legislation that will be considered this year on the Legislative Information System. The shear volumn is staggering. You can search for specific legislation on the Bills and Resolutions page. Get involved! As they say, the only time your rights are protected is when the legislature is not in session.

Bee Free,
Penny

Well, it is finally winter here in Shenandoah Valley. Don’t get me wrong – I am certainly not complaining about all the 60 and 70 degree days we’ve had lately, but it did feel very odd to be in the middle of January and not complaining about the cold yet. A person eventually gets used to the cycles of life, and winter is a cycle of my life which I accept, but am not fond.

We woke up this morning to snow on our homestead. It was beautiful and I am certain I would have really enjoyed it if we didn’t have to pack up to get back to town and prepare for the work week. And to make matters worse, I forgot my camera this weekend! I never forget my camera for heaven’s sake, but sure enough, I did this weekend. So I don’t have proof of how beautiful it was as we looked out the window of our little home in the woods and watched a white blanket of serenity fall on the trees and cover the ground.

The homestead is about 40 miles from our home in town. The trip back today took us about an hour and 45 minutes. The roads were really treacherous, and we must have seen at least a dozen vehicles that had spun off the road, crashed into each other, or (in one case) flipped upside down in a ditch. We didn’t stop because there were several people around each incident and two more weren’t going to help anything. While I admit my first thought in each case was “Well good grief – that person must have been doing something really stupid to end up in that predicament”, I really shouldn’t talk. It has happened to me. Just once and many years ago. It was very scary. Not just because I ended up going down a ravine (my husband will tell you it was not a ravine and it was just a little hill – just ignore him), but because it convinced me that my car was possessed. And I had to stay in that possessed car while I waited for my husband to come rescue me. Very scary indeed. I mean the car had just driven us right into a ditch completely against my will or my direction. We were headed across a little bridge covered in snow and the car just took off. Nothing I did would slow it down, let alone stop it. The car had a mind of it’s own and I’m certain it was trying to kill me. The roads were pretty horrible that night too and I had to wait for quite a while before Bernie could make it to me. I bet lots of people rode by, saw my car, and thought “Well good grief – that person must have been doing something really stupid to end up in that predicament”. Evil people. They had no clue what it’s like to be trapped in a possessed car that had just propelled itself down a ravine.

For those of you that have been worrying yourselves about our little bees, they are definitely snuggled up in their hives right now. I am a little concerned myself, and really hope they are keeping warm. I actually had someone at work ask me if we have to bring the bees inside when it’s cold. That made me laugh.

We’re heading back out to the homestead next weekend. Eddie promised to come out and take me squirrel hunting. I’m pretty happy about that. We call Eddie “The Great White Hunter” and I’m pretty sure we’ll score some supper while we’re out. I’ll let y’all know how that goes.

Bee Free,

Penny