I hadn’t made apple butter for years before this Fall (and I LOVE apple butter!).

I remember slaving over my first batch when the children were very little. The hours at the stove…the slow, slow simmer…the aroma that filled the house…the toddlers who turned their noses up at the texture! That’s right: neither of them liked it. At all. Of course, I found this out AFTER the batch was finished. Needless to say,  the apple butter page in the Ball Blue Book went unused for years (I can tell because that particular page is clean—as in no stains/spills/rings or other  canning “footprints” that divulge years of use).

This was the year I broke out the cinnamon and gave it another shot—for the kids!  I am sure in years past, I made a small batch here or there but can’t really recall. I’m happy to report: they both love it. Well, now they love it.

Maybe a few more years down the road when that apple butter page has earned its stains, spills, and rings, I’ll forget about the years I didn’t turn to it. On second thought, I probably won’t. It’s a sweet memory, nonetheless.

Pull up a chair in Tracy’s kitchen as she shares her recipe for preparing and preserving apple butter.

Butter.

It has assisted in and flavored many a recipe and, at times, come to my absolute rescue in the kitchen.

After researching “butter” (and, let me tell you, I was fascinated by all of it: the history, the “tools”, the commercial production) I was surprised to find there’s a USDA grading system — AA, A, and B — that is based on flavor, body, color and salt.

Oh, and how about this:  the color of butter is directly related to the naturally-occurring compounds in the feed of the cows. Makes sense, right?

Did you know that in order to make one pound of butter, the cream from approximately 11 quarts of milk is needed?

It’s said the discovery of butter happened when a nomad hung a sack of milk around his horse’s neck and it shook and shook with the horse’s gait until butter formed. Now, we can just reach for it in the refrigerated section of the grocery store.

We’ve come a long way—yet butter remains, amazingly, about the same.

Here’s to you, Butter!

Our host, Tracy Toth, shares her recipe for making homemade butter.

Let’s do a little math. We ordered a quarter-pound packet of Waltham butternut seeds, knowing that would more than cover us for planting in the spring (we had some seed left from last year) and ended up planting only half that amount. The packet was $8.95.

We are in the midst of harvesting the butternuts now. This load is the first picking and represents about 500 pounds. Altogether? We’ll get about 1500 pounds of butternut squash out of the less-than-half packet of seed that was planted.

The Waltham variety is an extremely popular variety — not only with us but with the pollinators. (Remember the blog entry about the bees buzzing in the blossoms?) Its flavor is delicious, it keeps well (we’ll store ours through the winter in our basement, which stays cool and dry), and the plants are consistent and reliable.

So, it’s inexpensive + proven + tasty + reliable + bountiful = A winner!

More than 800 years ago the native American Iroquois people developed and employed a “cooperative” way of planting their three main crops:  corn, beans and squash—known as “Three Sisters.” 

If planted close together, the corn would provide a stalk upon which the beans would climb.  The beans would provide essential nitrogen to the soil and the large squash leaves would provide a ground cover to prevent the growth of unwanted plants and weeds.

We’re pairing two of the three sisters together this year. 

We grow rows and rows of butternut squash to allow proper garden space (after growing butternut for more than 10 years, I am still amazed at the amount of space the squash will eventually require).

The beans are nestled close to the corn, and once trained, will likely be very happy to hitch a ride on the cornstalks. This saves us the trouble of arranging a trellis of some sort and is a connection to history we’re happy to make.

‘Three Sisters” was all about maintaining an efficient garden, and environmental harmony as well.

End of summer and everybody’s sad…just look at the sad sunflowers!

The children have been back at school for two weeks now and we’ve started to harvest butternut squash which can only mean one thing: summer’s officially over.

It’s funny, really, that you can’t wait for the summer season to begin and when the “end” rolls around, it’s almost welcome.   

I’m tired! And just look at the sunflowers; I think they’re tired, too, of holding up their large, seeded heads in the unbearable heat and blinding light of the sun. I look at them thinking they give up at about this same time each year.

I noticed the sun setting at 6:30 last night. Two months ago, I’d be weeding at this time, thinking “Thank goodness I have two more hours to work.” Now? I’m happy to be thinking ahead to apple butter, early morning frosts, and Indian corn. That is, until the seed catalogs come at the end of winter and it’s time to choose those sunflower seeds again.

I’m not the biggest fan of fennel. However, it makes for a beautiful display in the herb garden. Its early stages appear feathery like a young dill plant. Later in the summer, the thickened stalks become tinged in a copper color and it shoots upwards in excess of five feet. The seed heads are numerous and bursting with fennel seeds right now—the perfect time to chop them off to stop them from spreading!!

So there I was whacking away at the stalks, when I spotted this beautiful caterpillar balanced on a lower stem. I paused, momentarily, because the stripes were so unique. When I spotted the second one on the stalks, I put down my clippers. What was the connection between these caterpillars and this fennel plant? 

After some online research, I learned adult butterflies feed on nectar plants while caterpillars feed on host plants. Those host plants are singled out by individual species for their ability to feed and nurture a caterpillar. Some butterflies are so picky, there is only one host plant upon which they lay their eggs and feed (such as the Monarch’s relationship with milkweed plants).

The caterpillars on the fennel plant are Eastern Black Swallowtails and feed on fennel, parsley, carrot, and dill. Wow. What a delicate balance?!   I took this picture of a Black Swallowtail in my flower garden two months ago—not realizing how beneficial it would be to have a fennel plant a mere 20 feet away. I think I can learn to love fennel again—because I sure love these butterflies.

The third summer we were here I noticed cars slowing and occasionally stopping on the road nearer the pasture. I thought, for the longest time, they were looking at our animals.

One day, while I was out back noticing the tremendous number of butterflies, it dawned on me. The cars were slowing to take in the activity on the wildflowers—all the pollinators that had found their way to the native species we had let “come back.”

I hope this webisode, in particular, serves as a simple lesson in conservation: that something so easy as letting native species propagate a waterway buffer can naturally accomplish so many vital “tasks” that are necessary for a healthy ecosystem. That, and you get to enjoy one heck of a butterfly show!

It’s not “just another butterfly.” It’s an Anglewing — so dubbed because of the angled and ragged edges of the wings.

I might have passed it by if it hadn’t been for my husband, David. He told me it was fluttering about on the porch. I grabbed my camera and my son and we went out to see if we could spot it.

Nathaniel was the first to see it on the stone wall of the house. I could not make it out; it was so camouflaged!  It was easy to spot after it took off because of the vibrant orange paint of the wings — but also hard to capture with the lens because it was so quick!  I managed to snap 30 pictures of this single Anglewing in the following 10 minutes. I’m posting three to show the varied appearances this one, specific butterfly is capable of. Remember: the three pictures are the same butterfly!

The Anglewing is a woodland butterfly–hardly ever visits flowers. It  feasts, instead, on elms and willows as a caterpillar then tree sap, rotting fruit and other decaying matter as an adult.

One of our books suggests planting currants to attract Anglewings (done!) — since some species enjoy currants as caterpillars.

Anglewings enjoy salts from roadways and are one of the very few species of butterfly that can actually overwinter as adults. And to think, I almost never saw it.