Dear readers, I have a very special announcement to share with you. This very issue marks our 10 year anniversary together. Congratulations to us! It truly seems like yesterday when I was trying to teach myself how to design a magazine- making sales calls and opening each email with great excitement. Laughing while trying to explain to all of my rack locations what I was creating. “It’s this free local, retro magazine that focuses on positivity…” I want to thank you all for such a great chapter in my life. Like every true dream, this magazine has required me to be savvy, forgiving, kind, focused, brave and vulnerable. With every issue I am reminded of the good in the community- like the times businesses will sponsor another who can’t afford their ads. People who advertise just because they want to be a part of something for the community. Writers who bare their soul and share their wisdom. During the pandemic, when I made that 222 page online-only version, and all of my writers refused to be paid! I have said this before but you need to hear it more than ever- this magazine is proof that common ground can be found in a vastly different community. I feel it’s incredibly important for us all to keep communicating- keep finding common threads and not become divided. Sometimes it feels like we all need a reminder to actually practice what it means to be accepting of others- especially if you disagree with someone else! This is so difficult, especially when feelings like morals get in the way. But the true gift of keeping your heart open means YOU become better at being the change you wish to see in the world. To not only become but to act as a peace keeper. To this day, this lesson has been the hardest for me to learn and practice daily. I have to constantly remind myself that I am here to share this earth and that my time is a gift. My greatest wish for us all is to live in peace but I know that the only way this will ever happen is to first have peace within. This holiday season, I want to remind you what hope really is. It’s not the promise of something- it’s the art of putting your attention where you want it to be, in any given moment. Hope is not the wish that everything will be ok- it’s the ability to look within and know that things are ok- even if it doesn’t seem that way. It’s a challenge because we are so used relying on outside sources to make us feel better. When we become the calm in the storm, it gives us hope, which in turn inspires others to do the same. We’ve seen this countless times, we’ve read about it, but now is the time to start practicing it. Just keep in mind that you might not be that great about it when you start! Having self-compassion and acceptance for where you are at is the key. It all begins with that level of self love. And if you can teach yourself to be hopeful no matter what? My gosh- you truly become what you and the world needs the most. I want to encourage you to remember your power because I feel so many of us have been in the “reactive” mode for too long. We wait for the news and the social media thread before we decide what day we’re going to have. We rely on our TVs and phones to numb us or to keep us in a fight or flight stage and call it relaxing. But what if this time, this year, this season we remember that it’s our time. How inspirational each of you are. The gifts you have that you aren’t using and the ones you haven’t even discovered yet? What if the present you give yourself this year is to become a beacon of peace, stillness and hope for yourself and let THAT radiate out onto your community. To let this be the news that people react to. Yes, you have the ability to affect that much change in yourself and others! If nothing else, know that I’m proud of you. We are all trying our best and I believe that is the truth. I could not be more grateful for all of you who have supported this publication, our positive message, our endless dedication to be better than we were yesterday. It truly makes me cry to see how far we’ve come. I sincerely thank all of my blessed writers, advertisers, rack locations and subscribers. It truly makes me happy to think many years from now someone might find a dusty copy of this magazine and think, dang… this community really is something. Because it is. Because of YOU. With my love for the warmest, loveliest, most hopeful wishes for your holiday season,
Heather Niccoli Editor-In-Chief Home&Harvest Magazine
heather niccoli: editor | Design | Sales | Tony Niccoli, Publisher heather@homeandharvestmagazine.com | 208.596.5400 | 208.596.4434
CONTRIBUTORS
Laura L. Morgan | Annie Gebel | Elaina Pierson Temple Kinyon | Diane Conroy | Trent Morgan Emory Ann Kurysh | Chad Kinyon | Sara Raquet Gayle Anderson | Jacqueline Cruver | Tony Niccoli
CONTENTS
My Solstice Tree 8 Christmas Past 16 Unwrapping the Gift of Peace 22 Coq Au Vin 28 Eggnog Custard Pie 32 Cabbage Rolls 34 Apple Pie Skillet 36 Peppermint Fudge Bundt Cake 38 Oatmeal Honey Bread 40 Buddy Breakfast Cookies 42 King of the Two Mile Championships 44 Seasonal Colors, Garden Reflections 50 How to Get Through the Season 56 A Very Special Reading 62 Yultide Memories From Early Latah County 66 The Oh, Otis Shenanigans 72
The shift from fall to winter happens at my house on the very day I remove the Thanksgiving tablecloth. It is adorned with years of colorful doodles, handwritten quotes and the autographs of a gaggle of guests who have shared my harvest table. I read them all once more of course, before placing it back in the buffet and wonder who will contribute to my treasured collage next year. The transition to welcoming winter is immediate. I wash the poster-paint fall leaves off the windows of my house and replace the oranges and golds with brush-stroked wreaths and candles of white, or perhaps dark green holly with cheerful clumps of red berries. I am sure to paint plenty of snowflakes collecting on my windowsills if the weather is not providing the flurries. Then the moment I have been anxiously awaiting is here. It is time to bring a solstice tree inside to share my tiny house for the next four weeks! I have lived in one place long enough to have tended various volunteer trees in my yard to choose from. I know that Tannenbaum is in fact German for fir tree and I love that wonderfully fragrant pitch, but this year I have been looking at the small blue spruce growing too near my front porch, beginning to crowd my path. The practice of decorating a green tree for winter solstice has been traced to pagan rituals dating back to ancient cultures all around the globe so I decorate mine each year differently, influenced by many eclectic beliefs. I recently learned that in the Ukraine it is customary to have a small spider web and spider hiding in the tree. It represents good fortune in the coming year. It will complement my small feathered birds, nests, bark covered bird houses, dried citrus slices and nutshell garland I am planning to use this year.
I know most people are heading on a crash course for Christmas but I have stepped away from the charging (pun intended) crowds and for several years now have successfully declined the invitation to join the stressful commercialization of the holiday. Instead, my focus is the approaching winter solstice occurring on the 21st of December in the Northern Hemisphere. I will watch the sun rise and set on the shortest day and truly celebrate the days getting longer, while fully aware they will continue to get colder. I reflect on the conclusion of another year and rejoice in the promise of fresh beginnings and renewal. It is a time to hope, dream and make goals for the future. I will have a bonfire in my backyard, and borrowing from both Christian and pagan beliefs will burn a yule log. The yuletide is traced back to Norsemen bringing it to England and Ireland, or Germanic and Scandinavian hence the word, yule. Indigenous tribes have long celebrated with community feasts, dance, music and give thanks for the life-giving warmth of fire and honor the return of the sun. Drawing from my many different ancestors, I implement my own rituals. I am usually an audience of one but on the occasions that guests join me, I request that they bring a reading to share on a given topic. I have suggested topics like solstice traditions from around the world, nature inspired themes, and sorry guys but one year I very much enjoyed the theme of feminine power and strength. Back to my tree…. As I cut a bottom chunk of trunk from the freshly felled tree, I will count the rings that record the years I have spent watching it grow. Each year is marked by one light ring and one dark ring. Like a tree, my growth comes from the inside and pushes out new rings of growth each year, recorded in memories forevermore beneath bark that conceals all of the layers of knowledge, experiences, spiritual and physical growth; age. I am the total of my rings, dark and light and no other tree is exactly the same. A perfect illustration of this metaphor can be seen when I wander through the University of Idaho’s 62 acre arboretum and admire the collection of trees growing there. Divided into four separate geographical areas, trees from Eastern and Western North America, Europe and Asia have been introduced to the soil and thrive together in this environment. I am certain only the arborist knows how much hard work and determination has gone into tending the more rare transplants. The incredible variety of trees represents the miraculous diversity found in nature, and to me, echoes the diversity of people in our world from so many different places. Some are small and delicate. Some tower over others and create canopies of small forests, kind of like communities. Trees, unique to themselves but all of them drinking, breathing (photosynthesis), growing through the years have many similarities to us. Trees also carry variations in their DNA that affect growth, development and resilience. All living organisms are dictated by their genetics. I lose count of the different species and even find it difficult to distinguish the traits I know of each genus so I am glad the arboretum provides identity and origin on a tag at the base of the trees. This is where my metaphor diverges. People do not carry identifying tags that allow us to marvel how well they are doing so far from the soil from which they were acclimated and familiar. People do not wear tags proclaiming the country of origin to help us understand their traditions. Yet many are here making up our community. Trees are not human and do not judge or discriminate. Trees intermingled in the arboretum have no fear of being accepted just because their appearance is different from the others. The trees native to-
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-the region accept the presence of the exotic and strange trees and do not fear them just because they appear different from themselves. I have caught myself fearing people without cause other than how different they looked. I want to remember to be more like the quiet spirit of nature that connects all living organisms by the common bond of life. If you watch small children interact away from the canopy of their parents, you will recognize they do not see color of skin or societal divisions. They see clearly through eyes of acceptance. Our nation is but an infant compared to the volumes of history of all of the ancient cultures. Think about it, if you are looking for ties to your history you did not come from here, either. We grow where we are planted. We all have the right to grow healthy in the sun’s light, undisturbed and adding to our layers of rings each year. Stanley Kunitz (1905-2006) passed along a wonderful thought that one should “Live in the layers, not on the litter.” I translate this to say I can ruminate on my collected layers but more importantly to rejoice in the continuing process of adding them. My growth is not over yet and as he also notes, “I am not done with my changes.”
"...they do not see color of skin or societal divisions." Last year when I trudged down to the basement to haul out my six totes of indoor and outdoor holiday decorations I was forced to take a look at my many personal layers and how I perceived them. I opened a red colored bin of Christmas and lifted a flat and familiar box of tinsel out and inspected it as I do each year. Mom is not in there, I have looked countless times. The indigestible reflective strips are a health hazard for my cats, and I will never cover a tree with it. The image is clear of Mother’s 7 foot tree completely covered with the old fashioned lead foil tinsel, and dwarfed by the overwhelming mound of gifts beneath it announcing: I love you this-many presents. I placed the tattered tinsel box back in and closed the lid. I pictured her toiling in her kitchen for days to prepare big holiday meals, wiping the steam from the windows and her hands on a well used apron. I missed her and with a sigh, let the moment pass. The memories are held tight in hundreds of her hugs and locked in my rings. Sitting on the bottom step I often become overwhelmed by the many totes holding sentimental keepsakes from four generations, asleep down here like in a crypt. Grandmother’s good dishes served countless holiday meals but I do not have a table large enough for all of the settings. The crocheted bedspread she spent many tedious hours making for my mother’s dowry lies folded and entombed in a protective zipper bag. There is an embroidered christening suit and multiple pairs of beaded leather baby moccasins that I made for my first born son. Times change so quickly. Handed down items are outdated and undesirable. Customs change as the petals of dried roses, barely holding any color in a dusty effort to remain, just sigh with surrender. Why have I stockpiled things that I will not use? Thinking again of the words of Stanley Kunitz I wonder, is this the litter? I do not have enough boxes to be considered a hoarder but they are anchoring me to-
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-the past. A thought surfaced like the fortune told by those vintage plastic eight balls. It was a concept I previously read about in a book about minimalism. The practice of minimalism starts with the difficult process of deciding what is truly important. The transformation begins when you learn that stuff is not on the list.
I am not done with my changes. I entertained the thought that the items, clearly of no use to my sons, are not important to keep just to hand down to them. The things we hand down are not limited to material objects. The more important things we leave behind are not kept in boxes. The treasures that have already been passed down through these four generations have been the efforts to make life better. Nurturing love, meaningful lessons and knowledge from our elders are shared with us.
These are what we leave behind to provide the ability for life to be better, even just a little bit better. I have tools of my grandfather’s but his legacy was the carpentry skills he passed down, visible in the schools and houses that are still standing true. My grandmother’s memory still marches in the streets demanding voting rights for women and my mother’s refusal-to be restricted in a male dominated workplace still echoes in the evolution of our society. My quiet father, always a union man, taught me things by example like standing up for racial justice, theories of stoicism, the power of music and the grace of forgiveness. I carry the unquestionable genetics of strength of purpose in my layers and they continue to form new rings each year. New growth and renewal bring unbounded potential for change. I will celebrate my family and friends at my winter solstice bonfire and focus on the promise of bright new beginnings in the sparkling lights on my solstice tree. I will set goals to contribute and show by example new ways to make life for those following me, just a little bit better. I am not done with my changes.
CHRISTMAS
PAST By Diane Conroy
This Ranch, this place holds so many stories. I could retell them, but it is told so well first hand. With just a few sentences, we can be carried through time in the eyes of those who lived it. Expenses for Household – December, 1900 Slippers for Peter -- .50 for Barney-.50 for Henry-.40 for Albert-.50 Kalko 18 candles-- .75 4 pair socks-.80 Toys Handkerchiefs-- 1.00 Socks for Peter Gesellchen (Mary’s Pa)--1.20 Children-.75 2 for Peter-.25 One bucket of syrup-.50 4 Neckties for the boys-- 1.20 1 can baking powder-.60 Overshoes for myself-1.25 Christmas present for Priest-1.00 2 ¾ yard Oilcloth Tablecloth-.65 170 # Beef from Walter Tain-13.60 Candy and Nuts-.20 2 pair Baby stockings-.25 3 pair socks for the Boys-- .40
--Mary Lorang, 1912. “I am going to tell her, then you can read it, but don’t get a laughing spell, ha! ha! like when Papa made you laugh.” —1913. “Barney, Papa and our man drove to town this morning, at the mile corner and they broke the singletree. (to drag and clear snow) So Papa ran over to Martin Has further and borrowed another singletree and shovelt snow and after a while they got to Genesee. So then they drove over to Colton with the bunch. They must have had a nice time. It got quite cold.”
-- 1913. “This afternoon I just went out now and looked and it is 16 below zero. That’s just as bad or a little worse than you boys ever saw. Ha! Ha! -- 1915. “…..Well, it very nice out today and the sun is shining and the trees are full of frost and the wash also, for we did not take it down.” -- 1915. “Tomorrow morning the K. of C. are having their sail for the families and will also dance and a big feat. I receive your very welcome letter. I must close. From Mama.” -- 1915. “The sleighing is very nice, just enough snow to make it nice.” -- 1917. “ Today it was quite cold. We have very nice sleighing and lots of snow…a bunch of young folks are going to have a home talent play.” -- 1918. “Charles is out in the workshop and is making a sled for Rodney and is ten o’clock. Papa has gone to bed and Martha is reading. Viola is in town with Amalia and I am writing as you can see.” -- 1918. to son Henry, serving in WWI England. “I hope you had a nice Christmas and a Happy New Year. I hope it will be happy, that before the year is over that we won the war and will be peace forever and always on this earth.” -- 1918. “They said they would sent you a package from hear. whenever you will get it, you will write your thanks. I hope you will get it soon. We hope your where having A Merry Christmas and we wish you A Happy New Year and soon Peace. That would mean you would return home and so many more boys would make a many mother happy which we wish in this 1918.” -- 1918. “With my best wishes and love, I will sent you this letter. Everybody is in bed and the house is getting cold. your Mamma” --1934. “Dear Son Henry & Margurite, Now Christmas over again for this year. I can just see the children, how happy. They were around the tree. I suppose you usually had one. It has been that way there for nearly 50 years. Yes Peter is over 50 now but he don’t looke that nor he dont feel like Papa did when he was 50. We all thought he was old, walked to town and went to Comunion. We received the sausage that was really a treat for us all, it was very good, it seemed like olden times, thank you very much. The girls said they were going write, but they are very busy between the dates. you no how it goes. We all had a very good time and many presents last year. I had a ten dollar check from Peter and I put it the bank, but it is there yet bank was closed and so I did not have anything. So this year he sent me a check ten but I think this time I will buy me something that I need. Very much love to all. Yours as ever, Mama.
--John Lorang, 1904. “Mama and I have ben in town all day. Peter was after Christmas trees. Peter took his Christmas trees to town.
In the will of Goswin Sievert, provision was made for the pleasure of children living in the Kluss school district, such as supplying treats for Christmas and Hallowe’en parties and picnics.
-- 1913. “This morning it is 10 above zero. Dad”
Mr. Sievert, who passed away some 18 years ago stipulated in his will that the interest on a sum of money which he left be used to entertain the children. Some of the money was used for the purchase of library books, and for about 17 years the interest money has been used in treating the children of the community at parties and picnics.
-- 1914. “Weather has certainly ben fine here since you left here (Henry). We had fine sleighing along about Christmas.” -- 1918, to son Henry serving in WWI, England. “I wrote you a letter and sent two pairs of pants and some newspapers in the pagage. Write often, Papa. P.S. This morning it was 6 below and 10 inches of snow. We’r all well.” *** -- Marguerite Tobin, 1914. “Dearest Henry, Your kind present and beautiful wishes arrived Saturday. I am going to just say thank you, because I now I can never say enough to express my gratitude…we spent the day over at your home yesterday and we all cirtanely had a pleasant time. “ -- 1916. Henry Lorang and Marguerite were married in 1919. “Alice gave me the finest chafing dish for Christmas. Come over and I will make you some chocolate. I do hope Santa Claus was good to you.” *** -- Bertha Lorang, 1918. “Yesterday we received your Christmas boxes containing the picture frames, paper knives, rings handkerchiefs, and rubber sponges. Papa and Mama like the frame and only now are anxious to know the history of it.” -- 1918. “Your letter arrived the other day. Mama was very much disappointed. She was planning on you for Christmas dinner. Daddy is polishing the jewelry case for Marguerite. We will send it to her as soon as it is in good shape. It surely is some good work it you did it. I can hardly believe you did.” *** --Genesee News. 1942 “A log cabin, built in 1878 by Goswin Sievert, the deceased, now stands in its original state at the Lorang ranch, which was moved there by Mr. Lorang’s father in 1924, and used for a museum. In moving the logs each was numbered and the cabin was reconstructed as it was first built.
*** --Christmas 1944 “100 Miles from Nowhere Dear Joan, We had a big dinner in the mess hall today. They served us turkey with all the trimmings, so at least I am not hungry. But this is sure a miserable way to spend Christmas, in an army barracks, but maybe some day some way this mess will all be over and we can come home and live like a civilized nation should.” Jerry Druffel, WWII *** --Martha Lorang, 1986. “ Many times we went to and from school, we would go through snowdrifts that were hip-high. Als, there were times in the spring when snow melted and the bridge that we went over was covered with water. We crossed two bridges that were built over a creek. We had no good skating place close by, so we skated on the creek that overflowed each year and also the pond where the goldfish were. (John sold goldfish to the Davenport Hotel in Spokane) The boys had skates that fastened to their shoes with clamps and we used their skates as we had none of our own. I was so anxious to skat that I would pour water on the incline west of the housewait for it to freeze, then skate down the incline. We also used to sled on the hill back of the barn, belly buster down the hill, which did not work very well. It would start out okay, but end up going round and round instead of forwards. We had fun though, even getting dumped was fun.” These of course are just a sample of stories found here in the Log cabin and cupboards. You might enjoy our website at: www.WhiteSpringRanch.org.
Home&Harvest | Nov/Dec 2023
21
Unwrapping
T h e
G i f t
o f
P e a c e
family values part II
Laura L. Morgan By
Peace is a happily burbling stream, content to flow over smooth, time-worn rocks. Suddenly, a few unwelcome raindrops, heavy and insistent, plop onto the surface, puckering the glassy flow. A downpour ensues and the placid peace of the stream is replaced by an ever-rising flood that washes away parts of the stable bank or grabs debris, pulling it in, carrying the refuse with it on its destructive journey. Peace has been replaced by turbulence. Isn’t that how life goes sometimes? As we move into the Christmas season, the haunting melody of “Peace on Earth” echoes around us. For many, the Christmas season is anything but peaceful. However, many do crave tranquility. In 1955, Jill Jackson-Miller and Sy Miller penned the now-classic Christmas carol that begins with, “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.” Anyone who watches the news knows there definitely is not peace on earth. What about within ourselves? How can we achieve inner peace when there is so much chaos in our lives, whether from external forces or internal emotional strife? How do we then create peace as a family value and virtue?
Visualize an image of what peace looks like to you. During Christmastime, the epitome of peace for me is sitting by the fireplace with orange-yellow flames that twist, turn, and reach for the dark sky beyond the chimney. A soft glow from the lights on the tree adds a peaceful luminosity to the softly-darkened room. Familiar Christmas music plays quietly in the background as I sit and contentedly gaze at the decorated evergreen, contemplating the memories held in the various ornaments. A scent of pine from the woods I love and grew up in reaches out in an embrace. I have nowhere to go and nothing to do except be in the moment. Ah, peace. Individually, maybe your peaceful visualization takes place on a tropical beach, or finds you on a windswept mountaintop, in your favorite room, or snuggled up next to your favorite pet. It is important to be at peace within yourself, but to also value peace as a family virtue. One great way to garner peace is to get out in nature. As a family, this means going camping together, going for walks together, going on backpacking adventures together, taking a trip to the ocean and playing in the sand and waves…you guessed it, together. If you choose the ocean, let the salty breeze ruffle your hair as your toes sink into the sand. Pay attention to nature’s songs. Appreciating the beauty of whatever type of region you live in, or visit, is peace-inducing. Be intentional. Have these nature moments together. Please don’t go camping and let some family members spend the whole time in the camper or tent playing video games. That defeats the purpose. My husband, Trent, and I are big proponents of camping and the many benefits it brings, one of which is the peace of being outdoors. Nature was made for us humans. Something as simple as getting dirt on your hands can increase the levels of serotonin, your happy brain chemical. Nature’s silence fills one’s soul, leaving no room for the stress of life’s busyness. Some of you may say, “Now, wait a minute. We tried this camping thing, and it was a disaster. There was no peace in our experience.” I encourage you to try it a few more times, learning as you go to make the experience more palatable. Camping is great for developing peace. Obstacles will arise, and if you learn as a family, working as a team to overcome the trial, the next time something isn’t turning out perfectly, now everyone has experience in working through problems, which builds resiliency. This in turn leads to confidence and peace. When trials confront you as a family going about your daily life, now you are all better equipped to overcome by staying together, a team to solve the issue. Your family can work together effectively without as much stress. Go camping often and you will become experts. If you can’t camp, at least get out for a walk or find a quiet place outdoors to relax. The sun feeds you healthy vitamin D. The wind twirling the leaves or sashaying between evergreen boughs sings a restful song to your souls. If you’ve never been in the woods, away from the sounds of the bustling city, when large lacy flakes of snow are cast from pillowy clouds, you haven’t experienced a special type of nature’s peace. It is so quiet that all sound seems to be deliciously slurped up into a vacuum. It brings the John Muir quote to mind, “And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.” Another idea for developing peace as a family unit is to declutter and de-busify (I just coined a word!). When everyone has lots of stuff, it gets crowded in both your house and mind. Keeping life a little simpler brings peace. Even having some periods of boredom has been proven beneficial. Families today are so busy, especially with sports. I’m probably losing some brownie points by saying this, but the truth is that many families are-
-slaves to their master named Sports. Don’t get me wrong. I am a big proponent of physical activity. I was a P.E. teacher for years and also a coach. Our daughters were involved in gymnastics, soccer, and horses. However, think of this—when school is out, parents split up to get their kids to sports practices and games. Same on the weekends. Some kids play multiple sports, and at the same time. There is no downtime. Instead of peace, there is a constant rushing from one thing to the next, and you are not even doing it together as a family. Peace comes when everyone can take a breath and be a family. How about a game night, sitting around listening to a story, or…going camping? Families need times of peace to regroup, to connect, and to build those all-important relationships.
"...build peace in your family" Being grateful has been linked to greater feelings of peace. When we focus on being thankful for things, we find contentment. As a family, you could set aside some time every evening (while you are hopefully having a sit-down dinner together) to each contribute a line in a gratitude journal. If that’s too overwhelming, pick a time on one particular day a week to make the entries. Pick out a cool journal that says, “Write in me!” Hearing what everyone is grateful for has a positive effect on perspective. Hey, Thanksgiving is also coming soon and now is a great time to start a gratitude tradition. Another idea is a memory jar where every year on Turkey Day, everyone writes their best memory from the past year on an index card or a piece of paper. After everyone has shared, it goes into a cute, decorated (another possible family project) jar or treasure box. The next year, the memories are re-read, and everyone writes a new one to share. Peace. Times of slowing down to be a family. I want to throw out another idea: to live a life with few regrets. Parents, you are leaders of your family. Use the years that speed along too quickly to build peace in your family. Don’t be too busy to do some intentional things that bring peace—feeling grateful and content, helping others (remember last issue’s article on generosity?), having some family times, and getting out in nature. You only have one life to live, and it is a gift. Typically, I am a pretty private person, but I feel compelled to be vulnerable here in the hopes that this article can bless someone’s heart. On the last day of September, I was in a spot no one wants to be in. I stood at my dad’s bedside in the Intensive Care Unit and held his hand as he took his last breath. How does one find peace in a situation like that? Even as my tears were flowing, I had an underlying peace for two reasons. One, I had no regrets. I know my dad knew how much I loved him. He was an important part of my life. The second reason is because I had what the Bible calls “the peace that passes understanding.” I know my father’s soul is with The Father and I will see him again someday. Through my grief, which gripped my heart with a hard fist, I also had a sliver of peace. Families that share faith share peace. He was proud of Trent and I for writing articles for this wonderful magazine, so I dedicate this writing to him. If you are a person who has a difficult time during the holidays, for whatever reason, I wish a blessing of peace upon you.
Flank -To-Flame
Coq -Au-
by Tony Niccoli
{rooster with wine}
Vin
Are you feeling it yet? That crisp autumn air, and late-evening chill. The breeze that threatens to drop the remaining leaves, and has you turning up your collar and reaching for a cozy set of mittens. The call to get outside and do some extended grilling before the heavy snows begin to blow and chase you inside. I’m sure feeling it. Late fall is such a wonderful time to be outdoors, enjoying the struggling light, getting to wear a favorite flannel and those special wool socks or knit socks you save for occasions such as these. Without the pressing summer heat, and before that biting winter wind, you get a little longer to enjoy an evening of cooking outside, and you are already primed to make the most of the dying light while you still have it. Add to this combination a nice glass of wine, your favorite date, and two comfy seats pulled close to the grill but even closer together and you have a perfect date night combo. So if you are going to set the stage for a special fall romance, and you are already planning to fire up that grill, why not go all the way and push yourself with dish that might have recently seemed outside your comfort zone? A real stunner that could be served in a five-star Parisian restaurant, adapted only slightly, for cooking over fire outside. Coq au Vin. Nope, I didn’t just have a stroke and hit random keys. Those are real words, and this is a real suggestion. Hear me out before you have one more night of burgers or brats! Coq au Vin is a really fancy way of saying rooster in wine. And why say it all fancy like that? Because this is a seriously elevated dish. This is some Julia Child level cooking. Something that could grace the cover of a culinary magazine. And you, my brave griller, are going to pull this off outdoors, in the cool evening air, with only a grill for a heat source, all while sharing a bottle of wine with someone you love. We are going to make those professional kitchen brigades look like amateurs when we deliver this feast to the table. So here we are, in the final issue of the year. And more importantly, marking our 10th anniversary! Have you been following my grilling exploits all that time, or are you a newer reader? If you have been around for 2023, you know that last November, Heather got me a restored, antique Dutch Oven, and I have been having a blast taking it to campfires, charcoal and gas grills, and even occasionally indoors. I decided to run a 6-issue cooking class for the these cast iron (or enameled) wonder-pots, and I even kicked it off in January with a very simple French dish called Tartiflette. It just makes sense now, celebrating a decade of Home&Harvest, and a decade of grilling together, that we end the series shooting for the stars! Lets close out 2023 with the greatest meal you have ever pulled off over an open flame. Trust me – you are ready for this!
Step one – remember to buy two bottles of wine! A standard size 750ml bottle will have enough for the recipe, but won’t leave two full glasses to enjoy with your special grilling-partner. That second bottle makes sure you can have one glass outside to battle the evening chill, and a second one indoors with the meal. You want a dry red – something like a Pinot Noir or Burgundy. Drinking from the bottle you cook with also ensures that you won’t commit the cardinal sin of using too cheap of wine for your recipe.
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Start by getting your grill or backyard fired up to what we would consider a medium heat. In your Dutch Oven, cook 3 large pieces of bacon until they are just starting to crisp, the remove them but leave the fat. Add about a tablespoon of olive oil and start cooking 6-8 chicken thighs until browned. For me this was about 6 minutes per side, with the lid closed. Take a moment to sit and talk, remember to enjoy one of your last great fall cookouts with every pause in the routine. Remove the thighs and discard almost all of the drippings – leave just a tiny bit across the bottom of the hot Dutch Oven and mix in 3-4 table spoons of tomato paste, 2 teaspoon of thyme leaves, 4 cloves of finely chopped garlic. Stir this for 2 minutes and enjoy the amazing aroma. Now add two cups of chicken broth, one bay leaf, and two cups of thinly sliced carrots. Stir for two minutes and then return the chicken thighs, and pour in two cups of that wonderful wine. You do still have two cups left in this first bottle, don’t you? If not, go ahead and open that second one. Told ya we needed two. Now get your pot up to a boil. You can increase the heat a little on gas to speed it up if you want just don’t over do it. Once you hit the steady boil, move off the direct heat, drop the temperature if you can or leave the grill open if you can’t, and allow it to simmer for about 1 hour. Break out a blanket, cuddle up, stay warm out there. Now take a slotted wooden spoon and get out the chicken and all the veggies. Leave the liquid and bring it back to a rapid boil over high heat. If you are a real pro, and doing this on flame or charcoal, I would suggest adding some fuel about 12 minutes before you begin this step. On a gas grill (or inside on a range) just crank that baby up. We want to reduce the liquid down a good bit so it thickens, dramatically increases that impact of the flavor, and cooks down to about two cups. Unless it’s a really bitterly cold day this shouldn’t take much more than 10-12 minutes. Just long enough for a quick snuggle under that warm blanket, maybe even worth putting your wool mittens back on. Or just leave on those rubber grilling mitts. You do you boss. Stir in 1 teaspoon of salt, and a nice hit of pepper once it is reduced, and return the chicken and veggies. Keep it on the heat for about 2 minutes while you do final prep inside to get the table ready. Just before serving, sprinkle that bacon across the top, and garnish with some parsley. Sure, this might be just a little simpler and less refined than a famous chef would serve in a classic French restaurant. But they aren’t drinking the cooking wine outdoors with someone they love, so who’s the better cook? You just made Coq au Vin in a Dutch Oven over an open flame. That’s some graduate, or doctoral level grilling, my friends. Pour the rest of the wine and enjoy. Man, I love late fall cooking!
EGGNOG CUSTARD
Pie
Kitchen Sara Raquet
INGREDIENTS Crust – Use your favorite pie crust recipe or a store bought one. Filling ½ cup sugar 2 ½ cups Egg Nog 4 eggs 2 Tbl bourbon 1 tsp cinnamon 1 tsp nutmeg
STEPS Heat oven to 425 degrees. Place piecrust in a 9- inch pie pan, do not prick the bottom. Bake at 425 degrees for 7-9 minutes and remove from oven. Reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees. In a large bowl combine filling ingredients and mix well. Using a fine mesh strainer, strain the filling into another bowl. Strain for a second time back into original bowl. Pour the filling mixture into the partially baked crust. Bake at 350 for 15 minutes. Remove pie from oven and cover edge of crust with tinfoil to prevent excessive browning. Place pie back in oven and continue to cook for 30-40 more minutes. The center of pie should still be a little jiggly. Completely cool and top with whipped cream before serving. Store in refrigerator.
Home&Harvest | Nov/Dec 2023
33
cabbage rolls
ALDOLMA
Kitchen Gayle Anderson
INGREDIENTS 1 head of cabbage 1 lb hamburger ½ lb ground pork 1 cup cooked rice 1 ½ tsp salt ½ tsp pepper ½ tsp Allspice 1 small grated onion
STEPS Remove several leaves from cabbage, steam 3-4 minutes in boiling water till pliable, remove from water and set aside. Mix rest of ingredients together. Scoop out meat mixture according to size of cabbage leaf & wrap. Place in greased dish and bake 375 for 45-60 minutes. Enjoy!
APPLE Skillet PIE Kitchen Emory Ann Kurysh INGREDIENTS | CRUST + FILLING (For the Crust) 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour 1 Tbl brown sugar 1/2 tsp salt 1 cup cold butter 7 Tbl iced water (For the Filling) 1/2 cup butter, melted 2 cups brown sugar 4 cups apples, peeled and quartered 1 tsp ground cinnamon 1 egg white 2 Tbl granulated sugar STEPS For the crust- Add flour, sugar, and salt to a bowl. Mix. Add the cold butter and mix until pea-sized crumbs form. Then add cold water 1 tablespoon at a time. Dough should form into a big ball that is neither too sticky nor too crumbly. Transfer the dough to a floured surface. Separate into two equal pieces. Roll out each piece into a flat disk shape. Transfer to a cookie sheet and refrigerate until ready to use. For the filling- melt butter in a microwave. Pour into skillet and add 1 cup of brown sugar. Stir until sugar dissolves and forms a nice brown paste. Preheat oven to 350F. Then peel and slice the apples. In a bowl, toss with cinnamon and remaining cup of brown sugar. Remove pie crusts from fridge. Take one and place it in the skillet over the melted brown sugar. Press it down. Add the apple mixture, spreading it out evenly. Then add the remaining pie crust on top. Press down the edges and cut four slits for steam to escape. Brush top of pie with beaten egg white. Dust with granulated sugar. Place skillet in oven for 50 minutes. During remaining 10 minutes, cover with foil to prevent too much browning. Remove and let cool slightly before serving! Home&Harvest | Nov/Dec 2023
37
peppermint
FUDGE BUNDT CAKE
Kitchen Sara Raquet INGREDIENTS 2 cups flour 2 cups sugar ½ cup black cocoa powder ( you can use dutch process cocoa powder is ok 2 teaspoons baking soda 1 teaspoon baking powder ½ teaspoon salt 1 large egg room temperature 1 cup coconut oil melted. 1 cup buttermilk room temperature 1 cup hot water or hot coffee (brings out the chocolate flavor) 2 teaspoons peppermint extract 1 bag of Andes Peppermint Baking Chips (divided – reserve 1/3 cup for topping) ½ cup dark chocolate chips ½ cup white chocolate chips STEPS Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and grease bundt pan. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Add egg, oil, buttermilk and extract all together and whisk well. Add the hot water or coffee and whisk until the batter is smooth, it will be runny – stir in Andes Peppermint Chips. Pour into the greased bundt pan. Since this is a runnier batter, lightly tap the pan on the counter - this will bring any bubbles to the top and get rid of them. Bake for 45-50 minutes. The cake will be pulled away from the sides, and a toothpick inserted to the center will come out clean. Remove it from the oven and let it sit in the pan for 30 minutes. Turn the cake onto a cooling rack BUT don’t remove the pan for 15 more minutes - gently pull the pan up and away. Let it cool completely. Melt dark chocolate and white chocolate chips separately and drizzle over cooled cake then sprinkle the remainder of the Andes Peppermint Baking Chips on top. Home&Harvest | Nov/Dec 2023
38
Oatmeal
HONEY BREAD
Kitchen Sara Raquet
INGREDIENTS 1 cup honey ½ cup milk, room temperature ½ cup butter, room temperature ¼ cup packed dark brown sugar 1 tsp vanilla extract 1 ½ cups rolled oats 1 ¾ cups all-purpose flour 1 tsp baking soda 1 tsp salt 1 tsp ground cinnamon 1 large egg, beaten STEPS Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9 x 5 loaf pan. In a saucepan, combine honey, milk, butter and brown sugar over medium heat. Bring to a simmer. Remove from heat and add vanilla and oats and let cool for 10 minutes. In large bowl combine flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. Then pour in the cooled honey mixture and mix until barely combined. Add the egg and stir well for 30 seconds. Pour batter into prepared pan and bake for 40 to 45 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool in pan for 10 minutes and then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Slice and serve with your favorite preserves or Apple butter. Home&Harvest | Nov/Dec 2023
41
Especially fun for kids!
BUDDY THE ELF
BREAKFAST Cookies
Kitchen Sara Raquet
INGREDIENTS 1 (12-oz.) bag White Chocolate Chips 3 cups crispy Chow Mein noodles 1/2 cup marshmallow bits to mix in 1/3 cup marshmallow bits for topping Sprinkles Chocolate Syrup to Drizzle
STEPS Melt white chocolate in 30-second intervals in the microwave, stirring in between, until melted (about 2 minutes). Pour into a large bowl and toss with chow mein noodles and marshmallow bits. Drop a spoonful of mixture onto a parchment-lined baking sheet. Top with a drizzle of chocolate sauce, marshmallow bits and sprinkles and refrigerate until set, about 15 minutes.
Home&Harvest | Nov/Dec 2023
42
King of 2 Mile 2023
Global Championships
by ChadKinyon It’s the end of September and I am pulling out of my driveway in Las Vegas to head to Raton, NM, at 1:00 a.m. on my way to the King of 2 Mile Global Championships. I have a quick stop in Prescott, AZ, to drop off a rifle and pick up two others for a couple of buddies. Other than that, it is just me, the road, and my thoughts. I lamented over the past year and thought about how I had grown in this sport and to a degree as a person. I am much more confident in my skills and my equipment than I have ever been before. Last year, when making this trip, I had zero expectations. This year, however, while I don’t expect to win the crown, it certainly isn’t out of my reach. My mind wonders back over the matches from the last year and what I learned from each one. The short takeaway is that if I keep my head on straight and don’t make any stupid mistakes in the heat of the moment, I should be able to make the finals this year and possibly win the crown. Of the five heavy gun matches I attended this year, I cost myself a podium finish on three of them with “stupid” mistakes that usually involved a scope turret. I attribute some of it to stretching myself too thin while helping others. This weekend will be a little different since I won’t need to support any new shooters, and my “Team” of John Beloit, Stan Cutsforth, and Kasey Jones are all seasoned competitors. The only help they may require is moving gear to the staging area. Upon arriving at The Whittington Center, I checked in at the gate, paid for my room, and headed straight for weigh-in. This is the one competition where there are certified scales, and you will not be allowed to compete without weighing in. Most of us struggle to a degree with the 40 lbs weight limit. That being said, we also know precisely what our rifles weigh within an ounce or two. Big Sexy weighed in at a beefy 39.2 lbs, so I put the weight certification on my scope and was good to go. Only one person was overweight, and it happened to be Chris Schmitt, the current world record holder. He was 2.2 lbs over. You might be wondering why I mention this. There is a penalty for being overweight, and it is substantial. You are docked 1,000 points per .1 lbs, so in Chris’s case, he started the shoot -22,000 points. Can this deficit be made up? Technically, yes, but he will have to be almost perfect to do so. Arriving at the sight in range, I met up with John, Stan, and Kasey. They had just finished zeroing their rifles, which was perfect timing. I set up my rifle under John’s LabRadar to verify my bullet speed while fouling a freshly cleaned barrel. It’s a two birds, one stone kind of thing. The first round was off by about 10fps, which I expected, but then she settled right in at 3002fps and stayed there for the next 4 shots. The five-shot group was about the size of my fingernail, so I sent my wife a message telling her that I had arrived safely and my rifle was ready to run. I know she really only cared about one of those pieces of information and did a pretty good job of being at least supportive of the other. With these items checked off, it was getting late in the day, so it was off to Raton for dinner. We had been invited to have dinner with the Barrett rifle team at their hotel, and it seemed like an excellent opportunity since they are on the cutting edge, as far as production rifles are concerned, anyway. Be looking for something exciting from them in the new year. That’s all I can say about that.
Friday morning, we arrived at The Eagle’s Nest to find out which day we would shoot to qualify and in what order that would take place. The early morning hours were occupied with catching up with friends we hadn’t seen in a while. This year is a little different than 2022 in that I know most of these guys and girls. It’s a little like a family reunion of sorts. When the shooting order came out, Stan and I drew day one in the 12th and 28th positions, respectively. John and Kasey drew Saturday or day two in the 10th and 34th positions. Each shooter and spotter team is split up, so they shoot on different days. Qualifying on day one was sketchy at best. We were plagued with this tricky switching tailwind that couldn’t decide which way to blow. It would come at us from 4 o’clock, and then it would switch to 8 o’clock within a few seconds. We would shoot four targets in the qualifier with three rounds each for points. A shooter must hit each target to move on to the next one. For my first target, I had one mil of left wind dialed on my scope, and by the time I got to target four, it was at one mil of right wind. I managed a third-round hit at 2,097 yds, a first and third-round hit at 2,375 yds, and then a first-round impact at 2,668 yds, which landed me in eighth place for the day. Stan got absolutely brutalized by the wind earlier in the day and only got a second and third-round hit at 2,097yd. Stan had impacts on the other targets, but they were on round four, so they carried no point value, but they allowed him to move on to the next target. When the dust settled, he landed in 25th place for the day. I freely admit that Stan is a better shot than I am. I know it, he knows it, but he would never admit it or say it out loud. That shows you what a difference the weather makes at this level. Any one of these guys is capable of taking home the crown. That evening, I felt pretty good about my place. I had shot my round with no mental errors and managed a couple of firstround hits. Only the top 20% would make the finals and get to shoot on Sunday. My eighth place would put me close to the cut line because there would only be 14 people to shoot on Sunday, and logic would say that roughly half would come from each day. We would have to see what day two will bring. Early Saturday morning, when we arrived at the range, it was, for the most part, dead calm. There was a little air movement but nothing that would make itself a serious issue. I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but I caught myself hoping for the wind that had plagued the previous day’s shooters to return and give these guys a go, as well. You know, just to make it fair. As it turned out, Mother Nature isn’t as concerned about fairness as I had hoped. She gave them a bit of wind but more or less from just one direction and not that switchy stuff we had the previous day. That made things a bit easier for me while spotting for John, and he got seven hits and secured a spot in the finals for the second year in a row by placing 9th overall when the results were posted. You’ve probably already guessed it, but the finals would be made up of ten shooters from day two and only four from day one, and not the roughly 50/50 split that I had hoped for at the end of day one. I was on the outside looking in as I dropped from 8th place to 26th place out of 70 shooters. The good news is John had made it to the finals, and we would once again have the opportunity to shoot for the crown. As John and I moved our gear into the chute Sunday morning for the last few targets of the 2023 ELR season, I think we both had redemption on our minds. We were much more relaxed as we had been here before and knew what to expect. These three targets had blanked us last year, with the second target leaving us wondering where those bullets actually went. Target one was-
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-sitting there at 2,729 yards, just begging to be smacked by 525 grains of copper. The first three shots were all just off the edges. Shot number four rang the target’s bell, which meant we would move on to target two after the fifth and final shot. Shot five went just slightly off the right edge of the plate, and we were onto target two at 3,168 yards. This is the target that got the best of us last year, but we aren’t going to let that happen again. Please excuse me, but we are going to “geek out” a little here. The first shot went high by .7 mil and left by .3 mil. John made his corrections and sent the second round down range. Round number two came left into the center of the target but was still .7 mil high. Round number three, we couldn’t see, and hindsight tells me he was just slightly over the top, and the target hid the impact. Round four decided to drop out and went .5 mil low and .4 mil left. Round five dropped out further at 1.0 mil low and .3 mil right. That was the last round for points, so now it’s a grudge match between John and the target that bested him last year. Round six sailed on him, and he was back up on top by .7 mil. So, after a short discussion, we elected to adjust down .5 mil to split the difference of the vertical moves. Round seven once again hid itself from sight. Thinking we were just over the top again, John dropped his aim down to the bottom of the target and set round eight. Redemption was felt as the target rocked and the scorer’s bell went off. On to the two-mile target with two rounds left to fire and valuable points on the line. That final target was sitting there patiently at 3,526 yards, waiting as John put his “Charlie” on the front of his scope to get the elevation needed to aim at it. He made his adjustments as I watched the wind down range. I was calling a five mph wind at seven o’clock. We couldn’t see where round number one went. I paused momentarily to think, but I forgot to pause John. That one is on me. As I heard the bolt close and lock, I knew he was in go mode, so since I hadn’t seen anything nor had I heard anything from the camera system, I said “aim bottom of the target.” The last round of the year was on its way. Nothing. After talking to people who had a different angle on the last target, we found out, after the fact, that my hunch was correct but not correct enough. Both rounds were high by .8 to 1.0 mil. The season had come to a close with John finishing in 10th place, which, when you think about the level of competitors here, is one heck of an accomplishment. I’m unsure what changes are in store for our Band of Brothers in the off-season. I know at least one totally new rifle is in the making. Another one is getting a brand new carbon fiber stock. Two are getting new barrels and a fourth rifle is being re-chambered to change classes for 2024. New shooters will be joining in on the fun as the circle continues to grow. New venues are on the docket in South Dakota and Texas and monthly light and heavy gun matches a little closer to home in the Redmond, OR, area. If we hit every match we are looking at, there will be at least 20 matches shot in 2024 and a couple more barrels needing to be replaced. We expect to continue to improve our Global Rankings but, more importantly, we will see old friends, make new ones, and have one hell of a good time. For those of you who have been following our adventures, this is where we finished out the year in the King of 2 Mile 2023 Global Rankings: Stanley Cutsforth is at #16 Chad Kinyon is in at #32 (HECK YEAH, CHAD!!!! WE ARE SO PROUD OF YOU!) Kasey Jones is at #71 John Beloit is at #75
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Seasonal Colors, Garden Reflections by Trent Morgan
Days shorten, leaves have turned vibrant shades and fluttered to the ground and we flow with the season upon us, part of the ecosystem surrounding our lives which gladly includes us and knowingly readies for the winter season ahead… whether we are ready or not. As our gardens have taken a last gasp, given a final breath of air from September and October rains and enjoyed a reprieve from the summer heat, our highly productive annuals and some perennials slowly ripened a final harvest. Yet, they are still doomed to complete their annual cycle of life, production and death. They may or may not know their fate, yet I bargain a hope that with a few last warm days of waning sun, I might reap final fruits before the first hard frost says, “We’re done!” Unless, of course, you planned on moving and overwintering some choice perennials. Perennial varieties common to us; herbs, chives, and peppers, may sustain over the winter months and we can assist their healthy survival with good gardening practices. Asparagus, strawberries, potatoes, onions, carrots, and others can survive a mild winter if covered with a heavy layer of mulch, which will be the topic of today’s fireside chat. You may already be aware that plenty of perennial varieties can be wintered over in their current location or can be heavily pruned and transplanted to an indoor area for winter survival. I will be undertaking this task with my pepper plants well before our first frost. Many people discard these plants in the fall, and that is okay too. Meanwhile, other fall fruits solidify flavor in the cool nights of Autumn and even a mild frost. Tree ripened apples that have not found their way into cider, applesauce, or the dehydrator can grow a “water core” of sugar if we leave them on the branch. Most folks have never had a water-core apple, which is too bad. If you think a Cosmic Crisp is the pinnacle of apple-goodness, you’ve never had a tree-ripened and first frost harvested Red Delicious. Grapes are known to concentrate flavor in the cool days of fall and I always wait to harvest my Mars and Concords until after the evenings cool, and their leaves begin to turn color; that is if I can keep the turkeys and chickens out of them. There is always a risk that nighttime raids from our local marauding band of raccoons could find the bounty, too. It is a risk to take, but letting the later-maturing varieties fully develop their flavor is worth it. You can measure the sugar content of grapes using a refractometer, which I have done, but I prefer to use other senses to tell when they are ready for harvest: smell, sight, and flavor.
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Ultimately, flavor and production in our gardens, flower beds, orchards and vineyards come down to yes, timing the harvest, but more so from the plant’s environment—mainly soil conditions. Late fall is a great time to finish up the last of the harvest and look toward next year and ways to improve factors like soil quality, crop locations, or plan to try something new. Back in my volunteer scouting days leading our local council’s National Youth Leadership Training course, we called this process Start, Stop, Continue, or SSC. Let the reader grab a nice cup of coffee or tea, take a look back to last spring’s planting and plan with me to set us up for success in the next growing season. What activities might you start doing, which ones didn’t work out so you could consider stopping, and what was a success you should continue? First let us consider positive soil protection and amendments strategies. Second, we will consider crop rotation, including ideas for changing plant bedding if needed. And finally, let’s dream a little about those bigger projects like renovating raised beds or dare to whisper plans for building a greenhouse. If we need to refill or refreshen the cup of coffee or tea, it is okay to pause and do so; maybe even grab a notepad and pen to write down your plans. Now is a much better time to think about the soil in your garden than waiting until spring. Thus, a perfect place to start the SSC evaluation process is with a soil inventory. Were you happy with your harvest or did things fizzle a bit? We can expect days or weeks of stressful conditions for our plants, but how they rebound and fight the heat, insects, or diseases usually comes back to soil. How well did it hold moisture? Did it become hard and compacted? Does your soil seem loamy or dense? Is it dark or light-colored? There are some wonderful things we can “start” doing with our soil to improve texture. Have you ever had your soil evaluated for its pH, and levels of nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium, and organic matter? Depending on where you live in our region, local University of Idaho or Washington Extension offices make it easy to collect a sample and have it tested. In Nez Perce County, the process is only a search and several clicks away. Search Nez Perce County Extension office, click on Horticulture and Gardening, scroll down to Soil Sample Submission Forms and obtain the instruction sheet. Take your sample to the extension, pay forty-five green-backs and soon mysteries will be solved. You can also ask for further evaluation of micronutrients, which is well worth it. You will have the results and recommendation before spring planting. The process is similar in Latah County or through the WSU Extensions for Washingtonians. There are several ways to build your soil’s health in dormancy. One way is to plant a cover crop as was highlighted in the article “Seasons, Cover Crops and Rest for the Soul,” which you can read by looking back to the 2023 March/April copy of Home&Harvest. There we discussed choosing the proper over-winter crop to seed in the fall for your garden’s needs, when to plant these crops, and the biology of how cover crops preserve and enrich the soil’s health. Last fall, I cover-cropped all of my garden plots with good success, but this year I am going to protect my beds with another good strategy- heavy mulching. This approach is less labor intensive than cover cropping, well… sort of, and covering our plant beds with a nice layer of organic mulch accomplishes several ‘round the garden objectives in one action. Mulch protects the soil and all of the critical living, yeararound organisms that thrive there from elements such as sun, frost, freeze, and wind and water erosion. Mulch comes fromHome&Harvest | Nov/Dec 2023
-the German word molsch which means “soft or decaying.” This organic matter—leaves, grass cuttings (make sure you have not been using herbicides), small branches, tree shavings, manure, straw, or a combination, not only creates a blanket or barrier in the harsh coming months, but also breaks down over time, adding to the organic component of soil; the key word here being time. Since it takes months, especially in cooler weather, for organic matter that is even rich in manure or organic fertilizer, to complete the nitrogen cycle and release usable macronutrients to plants, now is a great time to get the process going. The chemistry will speed up again in the spring with warmer temperatures and the tilling in of the mulch. The good side of this slow-release process when it begins to come to fruition months from now, is that it will provide a steady, consistent, reliable source of nutrients for your garden. My cousin Bob lives in Harvard near the Palouse River, a much different growing zone than we have here in the Lewiston Banana Belt, and he uses mulch heavily on his garden as his winter is more intense and his season of dormancy lasts months longer. I know some of you can relate! Recently, we were chatting about memories our dads shared from their youthful “duties” working the huge garden on the Orchard Avenue farm. Before it was all houses, our grandfather Morgan planted a massive yearly subsistence garden as did most folks back then. In those days there was a much greater urgency in a good harvest. Once as a kid picking out seed packets with my dad, I picked out a packet of turnips; I liked the colors and we had never planted them before. Dad tossed the packet back on the shelf and I asked him why we never grew turnips. He became uncharacteristically serious and said that one winter growing up in the 1950’s, turns out turnips were the main food source for their struggling family through the winter months. Dad said he vowed to never eat a turnip again. Bob laughed when I brought this story up as his father, my Uncle Pierce, had related the same story to his son! I can picture the two brothers fidgeting at the old Formica table, moving around chunks of turnip in their watery soup. Funny, their sons both carry on the passion of gardening. The risk of frost is real for cousin Bob’s garden nestled in a hollow in Harvard every month of the year, and Bob is always at the ready to throw tarps over cold frames, even in July. Because of this, Bob believes soil prep is especially key for the shorter growing season in order to produce well in his garden.
soil prep is key for the shorter growing season While organic matter makes up roughly only 5% of soils composition, it is home to life all year around and helps balance soil texture; the ratios of sand, silt, and clay. Materials we may think of as brittle, brown and dead are teaming with life on an unseen level and we must replenish these materials for a healthy garden as we will be asking much of it next year. As these components of mulch break down, they create humus, the dark rich ingredient in highly- productive soil. Coincidentally, or not, this time of year offers a great option for covering our soil with a healthy blanket of organic matter.
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What to do with all those leaves? Well, now we know. Visit the East Coast and locals will ask you if you are looking forward to the fall colors. Personally, I wondered what all of the hype was about my first autumn there. After all, there are deciduous trees in the Pacific Northwest, right? As a little boy visiting my grandmothers, I could play in the leaves at East City Park or what is now called Rotary Park in Moscow. Even in the 70’s, the trees along the residential streets of Moscow were mature. Our family spent many a Sunday afternoon visiting friends and kicking at piles of colorful leaves as we walked the Norman Rockwell neighborhoods. How the world has changed! Since I’m telling stories on my folks, my mother once recalled to me that as a teen growing up in Moscow, she and her friends would drive my grandmother’s fantail Chrysler fast through the huge piles of leaves homeowners would pile up along the streets awaiting pick-up.
The fun was to watch the piles explode into a rainbow of colors
Mom! That was, until one day a fed-up homeowner hid some blocks under the street-piled rakings to thwart the teenager’s fun. It worked. Yet, with all my experience with the seasons in the PNW, I was unprepared for the glory of an East Coast fall leaf display. Leaves don’t actually “turn colors” by creating new pigment. In actuality, with the loss of sunlight as the days shorten, green chlorophyll that captured the summer sun’s energy for the work of tree growth and health, begins to breaks down, revealing the underlying pigments. Trees like maples, oaks, and sumacs become red as anthocyanin shows through. The orange in sugar maples and sassafras are from carotene, the same chemical responsible for giving carrots their color. Yellows showing through the green are from xanthophyll. It is cool science, and just think, all of those compounds break down in the soil to regenerate. This process is not unlike our lives. As seasons change or we are forced to endure stress, our colors come through, revealing character and quality. Nature has a way of breaking us down for the good, though the process may not always seem pleasant. Hopefully, you can take a moment to see this beauty and reflect on what a colorful world it is in which we live and grow. Another area of reflection as we ponder what to start, stop, or continue in our garden spaces might be adding a bed, rotating crops, or even modifying “bedding.” Or, perhaps consider taking on a larger project like making or improving raised beds or taking action on building that green house or hut. But alas, our time together has drawn long, so let us take these topics into our next visit. I will be looking forward to it! Until then, get those soil samples sent in, may your mulch layer be rich and thick, and your garden reflections bring you peace.
How to Get Through
The Season Whe n you’re Barely Getti n g Through
The Day
A few years ago I was sitting around a campfire with some good friends and the conversation turned to mothering. One of the “Original Campwives of Brinnon,” as we called ourselves, commented that she didn’t want to be the world’s best mom but she was hoping for the world’s okayest mom. We all laughed and agreed that being the best sounded like a lot of effort and we were already super tired. Being ‘okayest’ was definitely less pressure. And that’s what I want to talk about today too - less pressure. If you’ve been following my writing, you’ve probably figured out that I’ve been struggling with the day to day for some time. And while feeling like I’m constantly dodging obstacles being tossed into my path, falling from the sky, rising up through the path I’m walking, and sometimes just appearing out of thin air, I sometimes have a less than inspired reaction to motivational sayings and images. They feel like unwanted pressure while I’m literally just trying to get by. If I had the energy I’d take your ‘good vibes only’ merch and stomp on it or tear them apart Incredible Hulk style. I do recognize that that’s a rather harsh reaction but the truth is that we’re receiving all kinds of vibes all the time and they all deserve to be acknowledged. I feel rather like a failure when you want me to radiate good vibes only and I’m stuck in a murky, muddy place. So, for me, rather than reaching for a goal that’s at the mountain top, I find it more motivational just trying to get out of the mud that’s collected in the valley at the base of that mountain and not even caring if it sucks off my boots as long as I can just get to a dry spot under a tree branch for a minute. And maybe watch a squirrel scurry around for a minute. That’s the kind of inspiration I hope to vibe your way today as we find ourselves in the midst of the holiday season - however you’re doing is okay kind of vibes.
by Annie Gebel
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October to January seems like there’s barely time to catch your breath when moving from one set of decorations to put up and desserts to make to the next. So, what’s one to do? Well, here are a few steps that might get you started getting through… 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.
Know your place Find your season Drop the judgment Be in the ‘and’ Boundaries
I feel a little bit like an infomercial, yet here I am with my ‘just five steps’ to getting through when you are struggling. I’m not promising ease, though. I’m not saying this will feel natural or normal. And I’m definitely not suggesting that any of this will raise you up to social media influencer status. This is a guide to getting up off the floor but maybe still laying on the couch. This isn’t about reaching ‘best’ status but about working toward ‘okayest.’ So, step one is to know your place. That means that you not only need to figure out where you’re at in your life but you need to acknowledge it too. A few years ago I was in a bad place yet I was still sort of functioning so I told myself that I was doing okay for a few months. Then I went from a bad place to a worse place mentally and emotionally and I could no longer deny how much I was struggling. And that’s what I needed to do - stop denying and acknowledge where I was at. When we’re in denial, we only look down. It’s such a weight on us that we can’t look up and find hope. We don’t give ourselves space to work through what’s going on, to process what’s happened or happening, or to even breathe in fresh air. That’s why it’s so easy to get stuck in denial. Yet, once you take an honest appraisal of where you’re at in life, you can begin to see where you need help, what you want to let go of, and what you’re trying to hold on to. Once you know your place you can find your season, which simply refers to the cycle of the year - summer, fall, winter, and spring. So often we want to be in summer all the time - feeling joyful, sipping fruity drinks, basking in the sunshine with friends. We want a life full of laughter, celebration, and good times. The truth is, though, that there are three other seasons! Nature models this for us and still we want to rush and gloss over these other important parts of life. I encourage you, though, to take what you have acknowledged about where you are in your life and see where it most naturally fits into the seasons. Chances are it’s not summer. Maybe you’re struggling with the day to day in life because you’re in spring - planting seeds, weeding out ideas and plans that don’t fit, trying to work outside between the rains. Or maybe the difficulty that’s weighing you down is the pressure to get everything done in less and less daylight and before the first freeze. Are you trying to harvest a great yield or figure out how to get through winter after harvesting not much at all? These are all fall feelings. Winter is a time of slowing down or even hibernating. It’s when we do the planning for the rest of the year, rest and heal, and take comfort in comfort itself - being rather than doing. And while you might be finding it hard to keep up with summer, if you’re in that season, it’s more likely that you’re actually in one of the other seasons but trying to force summer to come early. Home&Harvest | Nov/Dec 2023
Are you trying to have a raucous, good time with friends, when a quiet night with a book is really what you need? Are you trying to walk through your growing fields of flowers but you’re getting tangled in the weeds? Don’t skip the spring maintenance! I know this is kind of ‘out there’ to think about, but it also makes a lot of sense to give ourselves - body and mind - time in each of these seasons in order to fully experience the quality we’re hoping for in life. Before I move on, there is one more note I’d like to make about your season - you might be in a couple different seasons at the same time but in different areas of life. Of course it complicates things if you’re feeling personally in winter while your career is clearly in summer and your extended family has some of that pressure that comes with fall finding its way into your life too. Yet, understanding what’s happening in this seasonal way can allow you to approach each area of life in the way that makes the most sense for the season it’s in. That little bit of help can go a long way. We’re on to the third step now, dropping the judgment. This one can be especially tricky, I think, because we’re so used to comparing ourselves to everyone else. We’re often comparing our struggles with only the pictures and posts people are choosing to make on social media, which often aren’t representative of their everyday lives either. We look at reaching our goals as the only definition of success rather than noting progress we’ve made along the way. What if, though, instead of comparing our position in this moment to anything or anyone else, we simply didn’t. We just let ourselves be as we are. In progress. Along the way. On the path. Healing. Trying. Being. I know this is easier said than done. I also know that like any practice, it gets better with practice! So, when you notice that you’re judging yourself don’t add to it by judging yourself for judging yourself. Simply notice what a tricky habit it is to kick and then release the ‘should’ and settle into the grace of where you are in the season you’re in. As you work through these steps, you’ll make your way into step four. It might be intentional or you might just be like, ‘Oh, okay, I’m here now.’ And where is here? What is step four? Be in the ‘and.’ The ‘and’ is a destination that I never knew about until I was there and since recognizing it I feel like most of my life happens there! It’s what I’ve come to see as part of the process of moving from stuck to unstuck, barely getting by to getting by. It’s letting myself feel seemingly opposing emotions at the same time. It’s the experience of transition. Once you are able to look at your place and season without judgment you’ll start to see that you are grieving intensely and holding onto hope. Or so angry about the way something happened and relieved that it’s over no matter how it went down. Or thrilled to be on the cusp of something you desire and sad that you don’t have someone to share it with. Are you familiar with the song Closing Time by Semisonic? There’s a line in there that I sing to myself often and it speaks to this place - the ‘and.’ “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” When there is change, there are complex emotions and that’s where we live, especially when life feels like a struggle and we’re still trying to live it. We’re in the struggle, which puts us in the ‘and.’ We want to feel joy and we’re fighting to get through today. We’re in a restful, healing winter season and another
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-holiday gathering feels discongruent. We’re just beginning to look up from the mucky, muddy ditch of denial and the pace of the holidays feels like a highway full of speeding cars and we were really hoping for fresh air and not exhaust fumes. So…it’s time for boundaries. Step five. Boundaries are basically providing guidelines to answer the difficulties that have come to the surface in the first four steps. Let’s look specifically at the last paragraph for examples. We want to feel joy and we’re fighting to get through today. A possible boundary to set could be one with yourself. Can you set aside five minutes to focus on something other than the fight of getting through today? You’re reading this article - that could count. Maybe you have a song you love and you could listen to it while you pet the cat and do nothing else. Maybe a look through a photo album of a time you remember joyfully could bring that feeling in for a minute or give yourself time with a blank journal page and a dream! In any of these possibilities, though, you’ll need to set the boundary with yourself, and maybe others, that these few minutes are for you to feel joy. When thoughts come in that are about your struggles or something other than what you’ve meant the time for, thank them for coming and know they’ll be there for you to attend to when the time is up. Seriously think about setting a timer and giving yourself the littlest mental break. We’re in a restful, healing winter season and another holiday gathering feels discongruent. This is a great place to practice saying yes and no both with the goal of honoring your season. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to go. Maybe you’ve been every year and everyone is expecting you to go - so what? You can say no. You don’t even need to provide an explanation. You do not have to go to a social engagement when you want to be under weighted blankets with a mug of hot chocolate! And, if you do want to see that one good friend, you can set up something with just them rather than the whole crew…maybe a cozy afternoon with blankets and warm beverages. Only saying yes and no when you mean them is a great way to set clear boundaries. We’re just beginning to look up from the mucky, muddy ditch of denial and the pace of the holidays feels like a highway full of speeding cars and we were really hoping for fresh air and not exhaust fumes. Sounds like it’s time to build a fence! Boundaries come in all shapes and sizes. You might be in a place where you need to protect your energy and create plenty of space around you as you fight your footing and climb out of this ditch. A healthy and high wall might be in order to keep you safe from the traffic of friends and family who are in different seasons and places in life and willing and able to do all the holiday things - baking, crafting, shopping, and clinking glasses every weekend! Way to go, friends and family! And way to go you, taking a moment to catch your breath after climbing up the sides of that ditch, soaking in the tub to melt off the chill and the mud and taking a shower afterward to rinse off all the residual yuck, even wrapping up in your robe and not even bothering with real clothes for a while. Way to take care of yourself! Hopefully you can see how these boundary examples might help you be in the ‘and’ of transition you’re in and allow you space to process and integrate those changes. If you make it through all five steps in one holiday season - high fives, friend! If not, that’s cool too. You’re still the okayest in my book and for that you deserve a prize! May you receive whatever you need in this season of your life.
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l a i c e p g S n i d a e R A
y r e v
In this issue the reading is just one card from The WildWood Tarot, yet even with that there’s so much offered in this one card. Maybe there’s something for you… 18 The Moon on Water
The scene on this card is of the full moon over some swampy water with several animals present. There are so many symbols to explore! Let’s start at the bottom - there’s a very light outline of an egg in the swamp. Eggs usually symbolize fertility, new ideas, or a beginning. This one is just sitting and waiting. If it speaks to you, perhaps there’s something new waiting to begin.
-the healing nature of water... but also there’s potential for things to get stuck The swamp represents a few things - the healing nature of water, of course, but also there’s potential for things to get stuck in the weeds of a swamp and it’s a preservative location with all the peat for things to sink into. So it could be a reminder that you need time to heal and/or that a part of you might need preserving until some time in the future. Also, if you’re feeling stuck, maybe there’s a reason for that. Don’t assume it’s a negative when those reeds might be holding you back for a minute or a month until the time is right for you to rise to the surface.
By Annie Gebel
The winterscape in the background shows leafless trees, perhaps blown in the constant winds across the swamp. Sometimes the message is to hold on. I once had a playlist of eleven songs with “hold” or “hold on” in the title just to remind me. Maybe that’s what you need to hear at this time.
The ox is a symbol of stregnth The ox is a symbol of strength and power offering you a nudge to get it done, if that’s what you need. In some ancient cultures, oxen were sacrificed at mid-winter to represent new life coming (spring) from death. Maybe you’re being called to let something go so that new can bloom.
The heron soars overhead The heron soars overhead bringing a message of self-reflection and/or creation mysteries. Sometimes the heron masquerades as the stork and delivers little babies to their lives. Is there something you’re being asked to birth? If this message speaks to you but you’re not sure what it might be, really tune into the self-reflection part of things. Maybe take to meditation or journaling to explore what idea or creation you’re meant to deliver.
The crows swirling at the top The crows swirling at the top of the card could tell of transformation, maybe something you need to be cawed at to recognize is happening. Crows can feel a bit naughty or mischievous but they really just want you to have a little fun and stay flexible.
A full moon is often about shining a light on something The last message on the card is that big, beautiful full moon. A full moon is often about shining a light on something you need to see, maybe something you need to release - for now or for good. It’s also part of a cycle. The moon goes through its phases over and over again. Don’t get stuck in one place. Know that you’ll revisit this phase soon again, and before then you’ll have the opportunity to go through all the others. So, as I said…there was a lot in just this one card. Take what speaks to you, mix and match. It’s the best kind of choose your own adventure guidance!
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Yuletide Memories
Troy, Idaho
From Early
Latah County
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For many people, Christmas is a time of celebration and gathering with family and friends, enjoying festive games and gifts and tasty treats. While today the holiday tends to lean more toward extravagance and decadence, the festivities enjoyed by Idaho’s first non-native residents were much simpler, though no less heartfelt or memorable. A quick search through the Latah County Historical Society’s Oral History Collection yields dozens of holiday tales from these early settlers. The wide range of reminiscences includes everything from the treats found in stockings on Christmas morning to the antics of a surprise bootlegger and gives a special perspective into the lives of our predecessors. Many of the first white settlers in Latah County and the surrounding area were of direct Norwegian or Swedish descent, and naturally many of the customs from these countries made the long trek with them. Celebrating on Christmas Eve, for instance, is mentioned in several oral histories. Families would work hard to finish the daily chores early so the rest of the day and night could be spent opening gifts, eating special holiday meals, and sometimes joining their communities for a church service or a children’s program at the schoolhouse. Additionally, many Christmas trees were decorated with fruit, candy, and lit candles as many Swedish people still do today. Willa Cummings Carlson relates in her oral history interview that Scandinavian food was popular in her entire community near Troy, Idaho, saying, “[…] the Swedes were awful good cooks.” Swedish cookies were especially prized, while the Norwegians’ lutefisk recipes were shared widely, although its popularity has fallen drastically since then.
by: Elaina Pierson Food in general is of course central to many Christmas activities. Albert Justice’s interview talks about his time as head cook in logging camps near Bovill during the 1930s. Christmas dinner was served at noon and included “just about everything,” he says: roast turkey and fried oysters, cranberries, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes and a variety of vegetables. There were three kinds of pie and plum pudding, all topped off with a pack of cigarettes behind each plate.
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Food was also used as gifts, as Martha Lowery Long of Kendrick relates: “Santy Claus came Christmas Eve and we would hang up our stockings and what was in the stockings, Santy Claus brought. […] every year we got an orange, that’s the only orange I ever had was in the toe of my stocking.” Oranges in stockings are a common theme during the time period, but Elsie Nelson’s family took it a step farther. Each Christmas, her grandparents and uncle would come to Moscow bearing two coconuts in the shell. For many people during this time, life was not easy, and the holidays required extra ingenuity. Homemade gifts and decorations were the norm. Martha Lowery Long and her siblings made shaving pads for their father using the soft pages from mail-order catalogues, with a hand drawn decorative cover attached with yarn. Their mother would receive needle books or pin cushions made from colorful thread and scraps of leftover fabric. Their mother in turn would freshen worn dolls with new hair or a set of new clothes. Two months before Christmas, a big burlap sack would be hung from the stairway in their house and, as gifts were made, they were placed in the sack. The only time anyone was allowed to go near it was when they were adding a new gift, although Martha admits that if no one was watching, a person would give into temptation and carefully feel through the burlap to try to decipher what might be waiting inside. Grace Jain Wicks, who would become a prominent public figure later in life, grew up on a ranch south of Genesee. Her oral history recounts one especially lean year when the family Christmas tree was made from the branch of a conifer tree – rare in that area at the time – leaned against a wall and hung with balls of orange crepe paper stuffed with rags; she describes it as, “wonderful, wonderful.” Ella and Dick Benge have a particularly striking account of Christmas during the Great Depression while living near Princeton, Idaho, best told in Ella’s own words: And one Christmas during the Depression we didn’t have any money at all, but we sold two cord of wood at Potlatch and got it hauled down and they measured it up, and we didn’t have anything left at all. Just macaroni and flour and, oh, some sugar. And I had to get stockings for the girls, they were going to school, and I just squeezed every penny I could get out of it. And bought a fifty-cent doll for Peggy. And then come Christmas in a couple of days. ‘Course, I made ‘em doll clothes and things like that, but I didn’t know what to have for Christmas dinner, and I didn’t have any chocolate; I thought I could make a chocolate cake. And we hadn’t had anything except, you know, just plain cake, and so, I went down to the neighbors and asked her if she had any chocolate. She had just gotten a great big box of chocolate, and she give me a cup of cocoa. And I come home — and see there was five of us — and I killed two old hens and stuffed ‘em and cooked ‘em, and we had potatoes and gravy and a canned vegetable and I made a chocolate pie, and put whipped cream on it for supper. And we just had the loveliest Christmas dinner that you ever saw. Just real nice! With nothing else, and I don’t know, I think I had something that I give her in place of the cocoa. And that’s the way it went. Christmas trees were often a special item shared by the community, set up in the town’s church or schoolhouse. These buildings were also generally the only available space large enough to hold public gatherings in many small communities. Glen Gilder of Harvard, Idaho, called the schoolhouse there the center of theHome&Harvest | Nov/Dec 2023
-of the neighborhood, “that old schoolhouse was busy day and night.” Edward Swenson has a fun tale of the schoolhouse Christmas tree in the town of Park, a small trading community southeast of Deary. One year, his father was tasked with finding the tree for the Christmas celebrations, which ended up being “a pretty big tree, it would reach almost to the ceiling of the schoolhouse.” In order to stand the tree, his father moved a desk to one side and drilled a hole through the floor with a two-inch auger. The trunk went through the hole and the top was fastened to the ceiling. When the season was over, the tree was removed and the desk moved back to cover the hole. This same strategy was used for many subsequent Christmases. Travelling to visit loved ones for the holidays is common, and the oral history collection is rife with stories of winter’s fickle weather. Willis Estes, a mail carrier in Viola, tells of using his Model T Ford after acquiring it in 1924, but still keeping a horse and additional packhorse to deliver Christmas packages in inclement weather. In 1933, Axel Anderson, working for the Potlatch Lumber Company north of Bovill, was prevented from leaving the camp for their Christmas break when sudden rainfall and ensuing snowmelt caused the St. Joe River to rise one foot every hour for most of the day. Gustav Carlson described coming home to Troy from California for the holidays around 1935 and encountering snow six feet high; horses were used to break the trail to allow cars through. As for that bootlegger: Theodore Sundell’s parents emigrated from Sweden to Minnesota, then to the Troy, Idaho area in 1900. As a young man during Prohibition, Theodore describes one Christmas Eve when he and some friends planned to celebrate at a log cabin outside town. The memory is somewhat unclear, but somehow Theodore drew the short straw and was given the responsibility of bringing the whiskey (he notes that, at that time, a gallon of moonshine could be bought for five dollars). With an empty suitcase, he took a train to Uniontown, Washington, and made the return trip with a full suitcase, arriving back in Troy on the nine o’clock train. As he walked to the planned rendezvous with a waiting friend with horse and cutter sleigh, he was stopped by the city policeman, who beckoned him into an alley. The officer said, “I know what you got in there.” He proceeded to open the suitcase and help himself to a big drink. Theodore was allowed to continue on his way, complete with his now-mostly-full suitcase, but couldn’t find his friend or the horse. There was a program going on at the Lutheran Church, and being a cold night, he went inside, leaving the illicit case in the vestibule. As it happens, his friends were also enjoying the program in the church, so when it was over, as Theodore says, “we rolled to the old cabin and then we celebrated out there that night.” Holiday traditions come in many colors, big gatherings and small, simple and extravagant, but are meaningful in whatever form they take. However you choose to celebrate, we wish you a very merry holiday season, and hope you will join us for the Victorian Christmas at the McConnell Mansion this December 9th from 1 to 4pm. Over 300 digital recordings and transcripts of interviews in the Latah County Historical Society’s Oral History Collection are available to the public on the University of Idaho Library’s Digital Initiatives website. Find a link to them, and many more local resources, on the LCHS website.
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Every year, Ed and Helen Swan hosted their entire family for the Christmas holiday season starting on Christmas Eve Eve (December 23). This night kicked off the festivities with the adults enjoying a raucous night out at the Elks Lodge while the older cousins babysat the younger cousins at Ed and Helen’s. The families converged at the farm with suitcases, sleeping bags, mounds of presents, and holiday groceries. Grandma Helen instructed the children, for this night only, to lay out their sleeping bags in the massive living room, with pillows and quilts. All seventeen cousins would crash there for the first night. By 5:00pm, the adults, dressed in all their shiny, sparkly, starched holiday finery, left in three cars to enjoy copious amounts of cheer with their Elks friends.
When the bright red taillights of the partygoers’ vehicles drove out of sight, Otis’s brother, Otho, who was the oldest Swan cousin, signaled the all-clear. The seventeen cousins immediately traipsed from the house to Ed’s shop, banged the snow off their boots once inside, and filed up the creaky, wooden stairs to the attic. Everyone assembled at the top of the stairs, and Otho shouted, “Go!” Like bloodhounds, the children methodically snooped and sniffed every inch of the attic. “Remember to pay attention where you found the presents so we can return them exactly how Grandma and Grandpa had them,” Doris shouted over the chatter. Ed and Helen had hidden their presents in Ed’s shop attic for years. All their grandchildren knew this little fact and had made a top-secret pact with each other (even before Otis was born) to take complete advantage of the situation. They’d snoop, find the presents, shake, inspect, take guesses on what they were, then return them to their hiding spots. The event was harmless enough, and the pact ensured that if one got caught and went down for the “naughty list” item, all would go down. This year, the snooping commenced at a furious pace, but there was one thing different. “Guys!” Otis shouted over the din. “I found one to Bertie from Auntie Hazie!” Auntie Hazie, or Hazel Swan, was Ed’s oldest and only sister. She usually joined them for Christmas Day celebrations at the farm, but this year, she and two of her fellow octogenarian friends decided to jet off to Boca Raton, Florida for the holidays. Hazie had never married or had children, so she showered her grand-nieces and nephews with gifts on birthdays and Christmas. Excitement crackled in the air. That meant more presents for snooping tonight and opening tomorrow night on Christmas Eve! A brief discussion ensued ending with Doris proclaiming a new rule. “When you discover a present from Auntie Hazie, put it in a separate pile than the presents from Grandma and Grandpa.” When no one could find any more presents, the group circled around the two piles of packages. “Let’s open the ones from Hazie!” Chuck chimed. The cousins looked around at each other with no objections. The excitement amped up to full-on hysteria. They’d never taken snooping to the opening level. “Okay, okay,” Otho shouted. “Calm down. We need to set some ground rules.” “We’ll have to carefully unstick the tape so we can rewrap the gift without anyone noticing it’s been tampered with,” Gladys offered first. “We can’t tear, puncture, crumple, rip, maim, mutilate, destroy, or dismember any gift.” “That means no opening plastic packaging,” Bertie added. “We can’t lose the tags,” James suggested. “Or mix them up,” little Charlotte proposed.
All the ideas were good ones. They had to be smart to ensure their impish deed remained secret. “And if someone figures it out, we don’t tell on each other,” Leroy stressed. “Agreed,” all the Swans chirped in unison. “Okay, then,” Otho shouted. “GO!” Rather than the usual rip-it-open-as-fast-as-you-can gusto the children exhibited on Christmas Eve, they all deployed surgical precision opening their Auntie Hazie gift. “I got a new baby!” Charlotte screamed. “I got pearl earrings!” Doris breathed. “I got a Swiss Army knife!” Deanie shouted. “I got a puzzle!” Otis yelled and exuberantly poured the pieces onto the floor. “O Bro, why’d you do that?” Otho lamented. “There’s a jillion pieces.” “Only two-hundred and fifty,” Otis replied. “Wanna help?” Otho dropped to the floor. The first rule in puzzling was to assemble the outside border first with the edge pieces. The O Bros began sorting; edge pieces would go in the lid, and inner pieces would go in the bottom of the box. The photo emblazoned on the puzzle box depicted Woody Woodpecker laughing and pointing at his arch-nemesis, Buzz Buzzard. Buzz wore an irate expression as he held a pie missing the center, leaving only the crust. Woody had the pie innards on a plate that he held far out of Buzz’s reach. “Dude, there are no edge pieces to this puzzle,” Otis stated. Otho stopped his sorting. “You’re right. What the…?” “Something is up, though, because the box has already been opened,” Otis said, giggling. He sighed. Hazie was what Grandma Helen called eccentric. Who knows what the puzzle would look like when finished. “You know, this night is almost my favorite part of Christmas, especially now that we’re adding opening a gift to our tradition.” “Yeah, mine, too,” Otho said. “I know it’s naughty, and if we ever got caught, we’d never get Christmas again, but I think if I had to miss a Christmas, this is what I’d miss most.” The two brothers took a moment to look at their siblings and cousins engrossed in their gifts and laughing with each other. Suddenly, a soft thud, thud, thud coming from the stairs ceased all conversation. The cousins froze and frantically looked at each other. If the adults returned early and caught them red-handed, they faced incomprehensible trouble. After what seemed like an eternity, Zoinks the bulldog came into view. As he slowly made his way up to the top of the stairs, shook himself, and started panting, a collective “whew” from the cousins fluttered through the air. “Who let him into the shop?” Deanie asked. He went over to Grandma Helen’s dog and scratched him.
“He was asleep by the wood stove when we came in,” Violet said. “That was too scary,” Doris breathed. “We better start rewrapping our gifts and put everything back.” “But it’s early,” Charlotte whined. “No, she’s right,” Susie said. “Let’s go watch our Christmas movie.” The plan moved along perfectly, everyone taking a second and third look at the rewrapped gifts to see if anything was out of place with the tape job or tag. Otis lagged behind the group because he was busy picking up the puzzle pieces spread out on the floor. Zoinks scuffed over to inspect the situation. In one hand, Otis held the bottom portion of the box filled with most of the two-hundred and fifty puzzle pieces. He used the other hand to scratch behind Zoinks’s ear. Otis reached to grab the lid to close the box when Zoinks suddenly dropped the front half of his body down and stuck his butt in the air—his “let’s play” stance. “Noooo, Zoinks!” Otis shouted just as the pup took off like a rocket, racing around and crashing into Otis with his brick-like head. Otis lost his balance, sending puzzle pieces flying into the air and showering over his head onto the floor. The bulldog nuzzled into the pieces, sniffing and licking. “Stop!” Otis fell onto the floor and shoved the furry tank away. But it was too late. The mischievous imp absconded with who knows how many pieces in his oversized lips. “Get back here!” Otis chased after Zoinks, and the bully thumped down the stairs at a surprisingly quick pace for a lazy canine. Otis hit the cement floor at the bottom of the stairs, as Zoinks zipped away from him, yipping at the game of chase. Thankfully, Zoinks was a sprinter, not a marathoner, and was getting winded. He dove onto his bed by the wood stove and flopped onto his belly. His pink, ham-like tongue hung over his lower jaw as he huffed and puffed. “Ragabragafragga,” Otis mumbled in frustration as he plopped down on his stomach to get eye-to-eye with Zoinks. He reached under the dog’s large, slimy lips and fished out one, two, three puzzle pieces. “You’re a real jerk sometimes, you know?” He scratched Zoinks’s ears, stood, and wiped off the slobbery pieces. He then returned upstairs and deposited the three damp chunks of cardboard in the box with the rest of the pieces. Doris immediately slammed the lid onto the box and rewrapped the gift. Satisfied it looked untampered with, she put the present back in its exact hiding spot. The brood shuffled over to the top of the stairs and turned to survey the attic. Seventeen pairs of eyes scanned to make sure everything looked normal. “It looks right to me,” Bertie said. “Me, too,” Doris said. Home&Harvest | Nov/Dec 2023
They clunked down the stairs and headed into the house, with Zoinks lumbering behind them. Once inside, Zoinks immediately shuffled off to Ed and Helen’s bedroom to snuggle down on his blankie next to Grandma Helen’s side of the bed. Everyone donned their pajamas and met back in the living room. Otho stoked the fire into a cozy blaze, while the remaining cousins sat on the couch, recliners, and floor in a sea of pillows, sleeping blankets and quilts. Doris popped Miracle on 34th Street into the VCR, which lulled the younger cousins asleep. Those still awake after the movie watched CHiPs, The Love Boat, and, adding another deed to the naughty list, Dallas. Eventually, everyone drifted off into sweet, silent slumber. *** The next morning, a flurry of snow boots, mittens, coats, and hats created a blur of color on the front porch as the cousins prepped for an all-out snowball war in the barnyard. “Oh, Otis!” Grandma Helen’s distinct you-better-get-in-herenow call came from the kitchen. “Yeah, Grandma?” Otis darted in from the porch. “Come here,” she ordered. Rarely did Grandma Helen direct that tone of voice toward Otis. He hardly ever got into serious trouble with her. He gulped and slowly walked over to her standing by the kitchen sink, wracking his brain on why she would be upset with him. Helen pulled something out of her apron pocket. “What’s this?” He could only see a nib, but it was enough. A puzzle piece. Otis’s heart sank. His brain scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t expose the shenanigans the night before. He could not, no, would not be the one to nark on his cousins. He frantically tried to conjure up a lie, but all he could manage was a nonchalant, “It looks like a puzzle piece, Gramma.” “Otis, this isn’t my first rodeo,” Helen remarked, her eyes narrowing. “Something is amiss. Do you want to know where I found this?” “Uhhh, sure,” Otis stammered, but he really didn’t. “It was stuck under one of Zoinks’s lips,” she exclaimed. “I just went to scratch him and discovered it. Do you want to tell me where it came from since I know for a fact, we don’t have any puzzles in this house. Remember, Otis, we took them to the Salvation Army when we cleaned out the downstairs playroom during Thanksgiving break not four weeks ago?” “Uhhhh,” Otis’s mind blanked. He had nothing. No lie, no fantastical story about why Zoinks would have a puzzle piece lodged in his slobbery lip. “I’m pretty sure I know where it came from but perish the thought if I am correct in my thinking,” she said. “I’ll give you one opportunity to tell me what you know about how this happened.”
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Her low tone sent a shiver down Otis’s spine. Here was his chance to come clean; maybe she’d go easy on him. He looked over his shoulder toward the melee of cousins on the back porch. He definitely wasn’t going to spill the beans. “I don’t know, Grandma. Maybe Zoinks got into one of those puzzles we donated. Or maybe he sniffed a piece out from under a chair that had been there a long time.” He didn’t quite see steam rolling out of Helen’s ears, but close. “Well, Otis, I guess that could be the case,” Helen said through gritted her teeth. She returned the puzzle piece to her apron pocket. “Go. Play.” He hugged his grandma tight and held on for an extra-long beat before rushing outside. The cousins immediately surrounded him. “What’d Grandma want?” Otho asked. “Are you in trouble?” Otis explained the predicament of the puzzle piece. “I didn’t tell her a thing, but she knows something’s up.” Misery and angst rippled through the crew with murmurs of, “What are we going to do?” and “The jig is up.” “We need to think,” Otho whispered as he leaned close to Otis. The rest of the cousins leaned in too, like a mob of football players surrounding their coach ready to hear the next play. “We gotta figure out a plan.” “Oh, I already figured it out,” Otis stated. “There’s no way for her to actually prove anything.” “What?” about half the group asked in confusion. “Yeah, you know how the adults are always so big into proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that one of us did something because they don’t like us tattling on each other? How we have to have facts and proof before someone gets into trouble for doing something wrong?” Otis professed one of the huge guiding principles the Swan adults harped and hounded to all the children. No telling on each other unless factual proof existed. This rule came in handy with seventeen cousins, especially during holidays when they were all together. Otis patted his jeans pocket as a sly smile spread across his face. “I took the piece out of her apron pocket when I hugged her,” he admitted. Gasps and giggles fluttered through the merry band of cousins. “Grandma won’t have the puzzle piece, so no proof, no crime that I did anything.” All seventeen Swan cousins erupted with whoops and cheers. *** Home&Harvest | Nov/Dec 2023
Otis dodged and ducked his way to the porch, snowballs whizzing past him. “Time out! I gotta go pee!” he yelled and raced into the house to use the restroom. As he was washing and drying his hands, he heard his grandparents’ voices. He quietly opened the bathroom door, peered around the corner, and spied his them in their bedroom down the hall. They stood face to face with Zoinks sitting on the floor between them, looking up with his sad, bulldog eyes. “Helen, don’t blame me for what your dog did,” Ed said. “I asked you to let him out an hour ago,” Helen fussed. “And now look at what he’s done!” She shoved what looked like to Otis a small, rumpled gift bag in Ed’s face. “Now, Helen, don’t get violent,” Ed teased. He started giggling, which made Helen’s face turn red. “Edward Arbuckle Swan,” she spit. “This is NOT funny. This was supposed to go with Otis’s Christmas present from Hazie.” “What the Sam Hill is she doing giving him a bag of puzzle pieces?” Ed asked, still smiling. “That’s a pretty lousy gift. And why did you have it hid under the bed where Zoinks could get them in the first place?” “Hazie gave Otis a Woody Woodpecker puzzle, and these are the edge pieces,” Helen explained. “It’s a joke. She had the idea because the puzzle is of Buzz Buzzard holding a pie with only the crust, and Woody Woodpecker is holding the insides of the pie on a plate playing keep away. Get it?” Otis watched the expression on Ed’s face change from amusement, to thinking, back to amusement. “You know, that’s pretty clever. So, you’re supposed to give Otis these edge pieces so he can put the crust on the puzzle pie, so to speak?” “Yes,” Helen sighed. “But I just blamed Otis for snooping because I found a puzzle piece in Zoinks’s mouth because you left him locked in the bedroom too long, and he got into them. I thought Otis had snooped last night, ripped the bag somehow, and Zoinks found the piece.” Ed’s big belly laugh echoed down the hallway. “So, you accused Otis of snooping last night when it was really Zoinks this morning?” “Yes.” “Just put the puzzle piece back into the bag, tape it up, problem solved,” Ed pointed out. “I know, easy fix,” Helen said. “But I feel bad I accused Otis of snooping.” She reached into her apron, and Otis spied the look of shock on her face. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake! Now I’ve gone and lost that puzzle piece!” Ed broke into hysterics. “So, now you’ve lost the puzzle piece your dog stole? Otis’s new puzzle—that Hazie had to mess with to make a joke, that you kept secret by stashing the edge pieces
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-under the bed right where Zoinks could get them—will be missing an edge piece that the dog removed from the brown paper bag, and you just lost? Oh, Helen. This is too much!” Otis watched as his grandparents started laughing hysterically. “How are you going to explain this to Otis?” Ed commented. Helen shrugged. “I’ll blame Hazie.” The two giggled like teenagers as she removed an edge piece from the hole in the paper bag and placed it in her apron pocket. “I’ll give him this piece, that he knows I have, and if there’s a missing piece, well, that’s because Hazie lost it playing all these ridiculous games.” The two hugged, and Otis took his opportunity to scoot out the door unseen. As he bounded out the door and down the stairs into the crossfire of the snowballs, one of Grandpa Ed’s favorite sayings popped into his head. Sometimes, it’s better to be lucky than smart. *** A few hours later, Christmas Eve exploded with an abundance of gift opening and food. Feeling snarky, Otis dumped the pieces of his new puzzle out on the dining room table just to see what might happen. Otho joined him, and they started sorting pieces. “Geeze, Otho, I’m not seeing any edge pieces, are you?” Otis declared loudly. Totally picking up on Otis’s sarcasm, Otho replied “Gosh, no, O Bro. I sure don’t see edge pieces either. How weird.” They winked at each other, knowing full well that Grandma Helen would be listening. Several cousins joined Otis and Otho to work the Woody Woodpecker puzzle. Otis declared, “I love this puzzle from Auntie Hazie, but where’s all the edge pieces?” The cousins stole knowing glances as they watched their grandma leave the room. She returned with something in her hand. “There’s one more thing for you that goes with your new puzzle,” she smiled. She handed Otis the gift bag which now sported a piece of tape where Zoinks had chewed the hole. Otis carefully opened the bag. “Well, would ya look at that! My edge pieces!” The cousins cheered. “Okay, wait, there’s a note,” Otis said. “Dear Otis, may your pie in life always have filling and a crust. Here’s your crust. Ha, ha! Love, Auntie Hazie.” Otis and the cousins giggled at the joke. They tore into the “crust” pieces and worked them onto the almost finished portion of the puzzle “filling.”
“So, Grandma, do you still have that puzzle piece you found today in Zoinks’ lip?” Otis questioned. He had no idea how it would play out, but he so wanted to get his grandma being naughty. “You mean this one?” Helen reached into her dress pocket and revealed the piece she’d “borrowed” from the bag before sealing it up. Charlotte grabbed the piece from Helen and popped it into place. “There! The whole crust!” Otho shot Otis a don’t-say-a word-otherwise-you’ll-incriminate-yourself look. The realization the piece in Otis’s pocket had to be a “filling” piece left from Zoinks’s escapade the night before and not an edge piece from his chewing on the paper bag that morning hit both O Bros like a jolt. Otis gulped, not sure what to do. He’d been so wrapped up in snowball fights, food, and presents that he’d never noticed what kind of puzzle piece he’d lifted from his grandma’s apron. It wasn’t an edge piece; it was a “filling” piece that could’ve only ended up in Zoinks’ lips through shenanigans.
"I found it!" “Finished!” Chuck said. “Well, almost,” Susie said. “Oh, Otis, your puzzle still missing a piece,” Charlotte sadly proclaimed. “At least it’s not an edge piece!” Sure enough, smack in the middle of Woody Woodpecker’s head sat an empty spot. Otis looked at Helen and saw everything click in her head. “Otis,” she inquired, “was that puzzle piece I showed you this morning an edge piece or a middle piece?” “Gosh, Gramma, I don’t know,” Otis replied. Before his grandma could say anything more, he dropped to his knees. “Maybe the missing piece fell on the floor.” He frantically fished the puzzle piece out of his pocket. “I found it!” He popped out from under the table and fit the somewhat damaged piece into the hole to complete Woody’s head. Helen eyed the piece and then did a double take. The piece was misshapen and lumpy from being in a bulldog’s mouth all night. Otis knew she knew. He braced for impact. But with a smirk, Grandma Helen just said, “Well, well, well. Would you look at that. The missing ‘filling’ piece. I guess it’s better to be lucky and smart sometimes, huh, Otis?”
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