Dis 'N Dat

We finally got some summer here. Seriously. Temperatures were so low I had my fire going up to a few nights ago. Today is sunny but around 11C. A joke really.

Tourist season is busy so far. Good bookings for June. Many bookings for July and August. Earning my crusts for the winter. Guests who Airbnb are very interesting. My observation so far (which I've shared with a few) is that only very contented couples go for the Airbnb experience as their relationships can be under intimate scrutiny by other guests and by the hosts. Just my thoughts. I mean if one is civil and respectful to one's partner over an early breakfast the happy couples exam is passed with flying colours. And I read human beings well. I can detect the false exteriors, the phony smiles and the passive aggressive underpinnings quite easily.

I seem to be on the go much more than I'd like. Today is my first day for ME in over a week. I took naps, from exhaustion, a few times in the morning after the PGs left. I've never done that before. Could be my energy is not as good as it was due to health issues or age. I did mention this to my doctor but I get the raised eyebrow of "what do you expect?" which is not helpful.

Friends from Ontario have bought a gorgeous house here and held a little dinner party Friday night and served Lobster Newburg.

A friend has been experimenting with woodpiles and built me two of these. They are in the German tradition and called Holzhaufen. Huge advantage is they dry very quickly with the wind running through them.

I met an old blog friend and her husband for dinner this past week. The previous time we'd arranged it in Ontario she had health issues, but this time they were touring Newfoundland and we met up. Absolutely delightful in the flesh, so to speak, it is extraordinary how the internet has changed the way of forming friendships. I can honestly say, having met quite a few bloggers, that the friendships in real life "meets" are warm and always feel as if we've known each other a long time. Thank you Tessa and Martin!

My wonderful grief counsellor is giving a workshop in our town community centre tomorrow. Looking forward.

Looking forward is what it's all about. Truly. And that was my father's secret in life. Always looking forward. Happy Da's Day, old man.

Wherever you are.

The Helpers

I hate drama. But sometimes I can't avoid it. And boy did I have drama last week with smoke pouring from every orifice in my stove and chimney. I shut 'er all down and jacked up house heat - well as jacked up as I can afford it as it costs a fortune out here on the Edge. Sweaters and thick socks are a blessing.

I had paid a guy, the guy who handled my chimney liner post chimney fire last year, a regular chimney contractor, to clean out the works the week before as it was all behaving rather badly, but everything to do with the fire was twice as bad after he left along with a fresh bonus of soot pouring down the freshly painted walls.

I texted him and he ignored me for a day and then said he might be in the neighbourhood in a few days and he'd check...

At that point my instincts kicked in and I just knew I could never have him back into my house again.

I posted my dilemma on Facebook, raising my SOS flag which always works out here and the following day Leo and his brother showed up with a borrowed ladder and long sticks. To cut to the chase after they had finished, this is the letter I sent off to the contractor:

Lxxxxxxxxxxxx:

I've had the work you did for me both in installing the chimney and in your recent “cleaning” of it checked out.

I have ascertained:

You failed to measure and install the chimney properly in that the stove pipe is far too short to meet the chimney or the top of the stove safely.

You used the wrong size screws on the chimney cap which needed replacing.

You failed to seat the lower stove pipe on the stove properly.

You failed to screw in the lower pipe to the stove itself.

You failed to fit the upper part of the stove-pipe into the chimney.

The stove had to be put on lifts to raise it as your measurements were 2” off.

In your so-called “cleaning” of a few weeks ago, you failed to re-install the cap of the chimney properly.

You also did not clean the chimney properly, there was a huge wedge of creosote still stuck in the lower part of the chimney which blocked it and smoke poured all through my house.

And underneath the top of the stove you had failed to remove any of the creosote lodged there.

In fact there was another whole bag of creosote taken out of the chimney and stove-pipes today.

I was told that you were criminally negligent in the work you had performed for me because of the smoke leaks coming into the house in which I could have died from carbon monoxide poisoning.

My walls and furniture are blackened and need repainting/cleaning because of your shoddy and appalling workmanship.

My power bills doubled while the stove was unusable.

Being an elderly senior on a fixed income I am shocked at your misrepresentation of yourself as a “professional” while taking such advantage of me.

I request that you refund me the total of $520 I have paid you for the original shoddy and incompetent installation ($400) and the subsequent non-cleaning ($120).

I heard back from him immediately wherein he apologised, agreed to his incompetence and shoddy workmanship and stated he would return all my money once he had been paid for a job he was currently on.

I'm not holding my breath. As I very nearly lost it forever.

But my Helpers?

They wouldn't take a penny for all the work they did and their assessment and correction of the problems.

And that's what I'm thinking about as I write this.

The Helpers.

Covetousness

It's a sin, that coveting business. Neighbour's wife, neighbour's goods. Those ten commandments never did mention neighbour's husband though, did they. I guess it was assumed women weren't capable of coveting. I remember, being the awkward one with awkward questions all the time about everything, asking one of the holy nuns who were married to Holy God Himself, (the world's most prolific polygamist of all time) why couldn't women covet. At times I just got vicious, shrivelling, silent, mean looks when asking awkward questions. That was one of those times.

Anyway. Today. I toddled into Home Hardware desperately in need of a pair of sawhorses. More on that later. No, it's not for what you think. And if you could believe, they had one sawhorse. One. I was outraged. What the eff good is one sawhorse to anyone? I didn't keep this thought to myself. It was a cranky day for me so I collared the store manager and demanded an answer - see above re awkward questions. Why? said I imperiously. What good is one sawhorse to anyone? He scratched his head and mumbled something about one could break, it could be a replacement. I harrumphed and noted I sounded just like my father when foiled by stupid sales managers who should know better than to have one of something that should be presented as a pair.

So in the midst of my high dudgeon march as I left the store in the foyer I spotted this:

And I just about fell to my knees in adoration. And I was enveloped in a cloud of Satan's helpers whispering in my ear "and you thought you were way above coveting anyone and everything? - Ha!"

And I whimpered as I stroked this magnificent beast and imagined the soda bread hot out of its oven, plates warming in the high rack, the cast iron pots and pans on its ready range top. And its heat leaking into all my old drafty rooms.

I must be alive. Sinning feels almighty good.

Winter's Arrival

Behind me

The cold fingers of winter stir around me. I bank the fire high. And look out the window at the racing blue water, white-capped, while some lingering foolish lupines on the banks of the road bob in the now brisker more serious gusts, reluctant to shed the last vestiges of their summer azure.

Leo hauls down more wood from the lot way over the top of the back hill. The barn is full. We have more than enough, I think securely. Not enough yet, says Leo, you forget we need enough for eight months of stove. Eight months of stove, I think. How comforting the rhythm of those words. How comforting indeed that Leo has the wood management skills that I lack.

For it is here. Every year, and particularly in this past glorious Indian Summer, I think: winter will creep in unnoticed. Before we know it.

Oh, we know it alright.

It has arrived in a sunlit fanfare of multi-coloured leaves flying off the trees and the chilling white foam of the waves pounding noisily on the beach stones.

In front of me

A Kitchen Dervish

:

~~~~~~~~~~~Irish Soda Bread w/ chopped apricots and prunes~~~~~~~~~~


I can't believe how many meals I've frozen in the last 10 days. Some serious baking and canning were happening also. I have to be in the mood, unfortunately. That old routine and discipline gene completely skipped my sorry self. But I try. And glory in these accomplishments when they happen.

I put down 8 single serve pots of my super woodstove soup today. Pots of beef stew has been put aside along with this fabulous dish I do of spinach and chickpeas and sundried tomatoes. And my leek and mushroom soup. Then I put up a batch of blueberry jam (I make mine with lemon zest) and baked a few varieties of my Irish bread. I love adapting recipes. I do it all the time. One for instance is the traditional white Irish soda bread (I do make the whole wheat also) I add an egg to it and whatever dried fruit I have on hand. Tonight it was chopped prunes and apricots. With Irish cheese (and yes, I can get that in Newfoundland!) it is amazing. I sometimes accompany it with hot pepper jam. Grown men have wept over this. No other food is necessary.

I'm on a roll. I need to scavenge more cupboards and the bottom of the freezer. Ah rhubarb? Where have you been? next up:

A compote of rhubarb, strawberries, pineapple and fresh chopped ginger? Whoo-ee baby!

I Play Well By Myself At Recess

There are about five berry seasons here. Immediate bottling, pickling and jamming are things of the past with the advent of the ubiquitous deep freeze so these lovely berries are all bagged and frozen right after harvest.

I still have a dwindling stock of frozen bags of cranberries, marshberries and blueberries left from summer’s happy picking.

Yesterday, which was wet, cold and stormy with multi-footer waves (who goes out and measures these things anyway? A measuring tape would get too wet, so do they use a ruler?) crashing on the shore, I cancelled my plans for a trip to town and hauled out my daughter’s recipe for oatmeal cranberry scones. I also made the loaf of Irish soda bread you see in front of it. I use a loaf shape and not the traditional round with a cross shape as I find it much more workable to slice into squares to enable an easy pile-on of the sangy filling.

Outport Woman uses cast iron cookware (I am the fortunate giftee of most of these pieces) on the woodstove fire for these housebound, unexpected-storm-event-baking days. And there’s something about the woodsome taste of such wonders.

It makes all those tax returns preparation go down so much easier.

(Recipes will be posted subsequently - they need to be keyboarded from my brain to paper - upon request)