Trailer Tales

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We spend a lot of time around here moving stuff from one place to another. It could be relocating the chicks to the new coop, hauling hay to feed the critters, hauling manure to feed the garden so it will feed us, moving lumber or firewood — well, I’m sure you get the picture. As we get older — dang it! — we’ve had to evaluate our systems and try to come up with ways to move things that involve less wear and tear on backs, shoulders, knees or previously injured portions of our anatomy. Even the younger generation has some orthopedic issues that have necessitated working smarter, and the youngest generation doesn’t have the muscle power to move some things. Since we need various capacities and styles of hauling equipment and it’s always better to lift things a short distance rather than a long distance, we have collected a variety of trailers. Not that we’ve spent a lot of money on any of this stuff. It’s either been given to us, built by my mechanic/welder husband or we’ve won it in some sort of contest.

In this mechanized age, an “average” hay bale often weighs 120 pounds. My back has a lot to say about it when I try to pick those beggars up and set them on the four-wheeler rack or a pickup bed. Hubby had an old motorcycle trailer sitting around (for about 20 years) that he decided might be put to use so we could feed hay more easily. It’s lower than anything else we have and can be pulled quite easily with the four-wheeler. I can drag a bale to it, stand the bale on end and plop it onto the trailer quite easily without hearing any negative conversation from my spinal column. It’s also small and light enough that even when it’s really sloppy in the pasture, one of us can drive while the other rides the trailer and tosses out hay.

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Here’s another remodeled trailer; it started life as a pickup bed. It’s handy for hauling scrap metal to the recycler — you’re certainly not going to ding it up and spoil the paint! Hubby uses it to take the four-wheeler when he goes hunting up in the mountains and we also use it to haul firewood from wherever the tree or branch was felled and cut up.

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This trailer has removable sides and a removable tailgate. It’s low enough for an animal to get into it relatively easily and very useful for moving the sheep. We’ve also used it a time or two when we needed somewhere to put weaner pigs for a week or so and there were no other pens available. It’s ideal for weaners you want to sell, because they usually go fast and they’re easy to catch in this trailer. When you catch weaner pigs in pig pens, you tend to get muddy and smelly, and Mama often objects to the process.

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When you need to haul big, heavy stuff, you need a big, heavy trailer. This gooseneck is our winter-hay-hauling, tractor-moving, backhoe-moving trailer. It started life as my dad’s trailer and was used to move his Charolais cattle or take them to shows. It’s at least thirty years old. We’ve put a new bed on it once or twice, but it has all the rest of its original parts.

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Old-fashioned Cooking: Salt-Rising Bread

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In this modern-day-take-it-out-of-the-freezer-and shove-it-in-the-microwave world, we often lose sight of what real food tastes like. Not too surprising, when you look at the ingredient lists on most prepared foods. I figure if you can’t even pronounce half the ingredients, you shouldn’t rely on it as a major food source. Many so-called foods have more chemicals than food ingredients. Just think about beef stew or chili simmering slowly through the day, ready to warm the cockles of your heart – not to mention your cold hands – come dinner time. Or home-made breakfast burritos or Cornish pasties, stored in the freezer for those mornings when you can barely find the kitchen, let alone think up a menu.

From “Little Women” by Louisa May Alcott

Hannah had left a pan of bread to rise, Meg had worked it up early, set it on the hearth for a second rising, and forgotten it. Meg was entertaining Sallie Gardiner in the parlor, when the door flew open and a floury, crocky, flushed and disheveled figure appeared, demanding tartly…

“I say, isn’t bread `riz’ enough when it runs over the pans?”

Sallie began to laugh, but Meg nodded and lifted her eyebrows as high as they would go, which caused the apparition to vanish and put the sour bread into the oven without further delay.

In the days before commercial yeast was developed in 1860 or thereabouts, salt-rising bread and sourdough bread were the two types most cooks produced. Sourdough uses a starter from wild yeast that must be regularly fed to keep it alive, while salt-rising bread relies on the natural bacteria found in fresh-ground corn meal or potatoes as well as wild yeast for its leavening power. Salt-rising bread works best at warmer temperatures of about 100-113 degrees while sourdough prefers room temperatures. The salt in the bread is actually minimal and the name may have come from the practice of using heated rock salt to maintain the higher temperature to incubate the bread sponge. The bread has a characteristic odor (which disappears when the bread is toasted) and a fine crumb.

 

Salt Rising Bread

1 cup milk

1/2 cup cornmeal

1 tablespoon white sugar

1 teaspoon salt

2 cups warm water (110 degrees F)

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons white sugar

3 tablespoons shortening

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 tablespoon warm water (110 degrees F)

6 cups all-purpose flour

To Make Starter: Heat the milk (110 degrees F), and stir in 1 tablespoon of the sugar, the cornmeal and 1 teaspoon of the salt. Place this in a jar in an electric skillet or crock pot with hot water in it. Maintain the temperature around 105 to 115 degrees F for 7-12 hours or until it shows fermentation (many crockpots will get hotter than this even on low, so check yours first). You can hear the gas escaping when it has fermented sufficiently. The bubble foam, which forms over the starter, can take as long as 24 hours. Do not go on with the bread-making until the starter responds. As the starter ferments, the unusual salt-rising smell appears.

When the starter is bubbly, it is time to make the sponge. Place the starter mixture in a medium-size bowl. Stir in 2 cups of the warm water, 2 tablespoons of the sugar, the shortening and 2 cups of the all-purpose flour. Beat the sponge thoroughly. Put bowl back in the water to maintain an even 105 to 115 degrees F temperature. Cover and let rise until light and full of bubbles. This will take 2 1/2 to 3 hours.

Dissolve the baking soda in 1 tablespoon of the warm water and combine it with the sponge. Stir 5 1/4 cups of the flour into the sponge; knead in more flour as necessary. Knead the dough for 10 minutes or until smooth and manageable. Cut dough into 3 parts. Shape dough and place it in three greased 9x5x3 inch pans. Place covered pans in warm water or uncovered pans in a warm oven with a bowl of hot water, maintaining a temperature of 85 degrees F. It will take approximately 5 hours for the bread to rise 2 1/2 times the original size. The bread will round to the top of the pans. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Bake bread at 375 degrees F for 10 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees F and bake for an additional 20 minutes or until light golden brown.

You can dry salt rising culture. Save 1/4 cup of a successful sponge and pour it into a saucer, cover with cheesecloth and allow to dry. Store dried flakes in plastic in a cool, dry place or freeze until needed for salt rising bread. When ready to make the bread; dissolve the flakes in the new warm starter and continue with recipe. This will give a flavor boost to your bread.

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The Miracle and Mystery of Moss

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In another few million years, these rocks will be sand, thanks to moss.

In another few million years, these rocks will be sand, thanks to moss.

 Aside from the old boy/girl scout wilderness guides about navigating your way north by finding the moss growing on the north side of tree, I’m betting most folks give little thought to these interesting plants. Among other things mosses (or at least the ancestors of what we call moss today) caused ice ages. Seems the ancient mosses extracted CO2 from the atmosphere and secreted acids that dissolved the rocks they were growing on. The acidified rocks extracted more CO2 and caused massive algal blooms in the oceans – yep, you guessed it, more CO2 extracted. Eventually the CO2 levels dropped all over the world and the earth developed ice caps and expansive glaciers. So I guess we could solve global warming by cultivating lots of moss…

This clump is almost three feet thick!

This clump is almost three feet thick!

Moss doesn’t always grow on the north side of trees, by the way. It usually grows on whatever side is more shaded and has more moisture. Moss, unlike most plants, can’t transport water or prevent evaporation, so it needs to be wet all the time to grow. In times of drought, it simply dries up and waits for the rains to come. Mosses prefer specific trees; in our neck of the woods, you’ll see lots of moss on the oaks but little or none on the evergreens. Unlike mistletoe, moss is not a parasite and doesn’t do any damage to the trees it grows on.

Not much on this cedar tree.

Not much on this cedar tree.

But the oaks are loaded with moss.

But the oaks are loaded with moss.

Although we modern folks tend to use moss primarily for decoration in floral baskets or to grow plants (that’s the sphagnum version), our more primitive ancestors used it for bedding, baskets, wound dressings, sanitary napkins, diapers, insulation and food storage. Moss is not only absorbent, it has antibacterial properties – next time you’re out in the woods and cut your finger, try a moss bandaid. Musk oxen, dall sheep and some caribou eat moss and lichens. It’s pretty, too. I’ve seen moss that looks like lacey, brilliant green ruffles – the sort you see on a fancy petticoat. Tiny mushrooms, no bigger than a child’s little finger, dot the moss on some of our oak trees. Moss even blooms like flowers, although the “blossoms” are so small and similarly colored you’d be hard put to recognize them as a flower.

Moss is pretty cool stuff.

 

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