Mountain Refuge

[FOTH]

No chapter today, but tomorrow there will be another one!

Thanks to all of you who are making this new site work by keeping the discussion going. I really appreciate it.

[cherig22]

There is a way to make honey vinegar:

Honey vinegar
Pour one gallon of boiling water over 4-1/2 pounds of honey in a clean crock. Stir to dissolve.

Make a paste of one cake or package of yeast and a small amount of warm water. Spread this on a slice of toast, and float the toast on the liquid. Cover with cloth and let stand 16 days.

Skim it, strain it, and let it stand another 4-6 weeks until it tastes like vinegar. Then bottle.

This is the recipe, but I know there is a way to capture airborne yeast instead of using packaged yeast. Maybe make cattail flour and make some sourdough starter? Then Liz can have vinegar, good for colds and sore throats, and other medicinal things.

Cheri

[FOTH]

Sept 24, 2011 15:48:25 GMT -6 cherig22 said:

There is a way to make honey vinegar.........

This is the recipe, but I know there is a way to capture airborne yeast instead of using packaged yeast. Maybe make cattail flour and make some sourdough starter? Then Liz can have vinegar, good for colds and sore throats, and other medicinal things.

Cheri

Thanks for that recipe--very interesting procedure!

Yes, they could collect wild yeast, and probably one of the easiest ways for them to do it is to scrape the white powder from the trunks of a few aspens. It contains a wild yeast, as does the white filmy coating on Oregon grape berries, and can be used as a sourdough starter. They may have to try some honey vinegar! Einar was thinking they might try to ferment some chokecherries to make vinegar, but this could be easier.

Thanks!

[FOTH]

All through the day as they gathered up the thoroughly hardened shingles and stacked them in neat piles in the woodshed, shared a bit of lunch and rubbed the first batch of tanning solution--heated bearfat mixed with the mashed brain of the goat--into the already laced and stretched mountain goat hide, Einar could not get the image of that sizzling, honey mustard-basted roast out of his mind, the thought of it growing so strong that when finally they cleaned up and returned to the cabin he found himself staring up at Liz’s bundles of shepherd’s purse, wondering just how many of them might be extra. He wanted to make her that mustard. Would have to wait though, because at the moment she was hard at work on a batch of supper stew and he supposed he really ought to be getting up on the roof before darkness finished descending, to give the newly-made shingles a test run. Still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not they’d made enough to cover the entire roof, and rather than waiting until the day when finally things dried out enough to install them to gain that information. He’d hate that, hate to get halfway through the project and find that he had to stop and make more shingles, when he could have made them in the first place, and to that end he headed back outside--the evening was cold and still, hardly a whisper of wind disturbing the last brittle golden remnants of the aspens’ fall splendor and the brilliant arc of the Milky Way just beginning to show in a sky that appeared high and vacuous and vast, dimming--and to the spot where they had stacked the finished shingles.

Tied together in bundles, the shingles were a bit heavier than had been the bundles of cut bark he had originally hauled up to the cabin, their thick coatings of pitch adding a bit to the weight. The shingles would be a fire hazard, pitch burning readily should embers of significant enough size fall on it and remain living long enough to provide ignition and he wished they had thought to press each into a mound of dirt or gravel while its coating had remained fresh. Well. Another time. He’d probably be adding fresh layers of pitch to the roof should the shingles work out, and could give them the fire-resistant layer at that time. For the moment winter was coming, and the roof would seldom be without at least some snow to act as protection from the danger of fire.

Right. Better get on with it then, quit wasting time daydreaming or it’s gonna be too dark to see the shingles, which’ll mean you bringing up a couple candles to help illuminate the situation, and then you’ll probably end up tipping one of them over and igniting the whole stack! Bad idea, Einar, real bad idea…though of course considering that the shingles wouldn’t actually be attached to the roof yet, you could just shove the whole flaming mess over the side and into the snow, probably saving the cabin from destruction, but making Liz--and yourself--real mad at how close things had come, and at the wasted effort of making the shingles, in the first place…yep, definitely best to just go ahead and do your little test now before it gets dark, don’t you think? Which he did, actually, though for some reason the image of stacks of flaming shingles had struck him as terribly funny and left him chuckling quietly to himself as he hoisted the bundles up onto the roof, moving slowly and a bit stiffly--the effort of braining that hide, though Liz had been assisting, had really taken a toll on his ribs--as he hauled himself after them.

Starting all the way at the bottom he began laying those shingles, neatly, rows overlapping just enough to effectively shed water but not too much farther, wanting to stretch them as far as reasonably possible, and even before he got to the top, it was plain to him that they had enough. More than enough. The spares could be used on the woodshed, or to reinforce particularly troublesome areas on the cabin, and he perched cross-legged on the roof-summit, looking down with satisfaction at the thoroughly covered roof. Good. It was very good, and had it not been for the fact that the roof itself still needed a good bit of drying and darkness--and the risk of his candles setting the entire thing aflame--almost arrived, he might well have gone ahead and done the entire job right then and there. Didn’t, though, sitting instead all huddled up on the roof’s highest point watching the stars brighten above him and planning the next day’s work--run the trapline again in the morning, hopefully find that a critter or two has stumbled upon our snares, haul more firewood, work on shortening and splitting some of what we’ve already got, do some sewing on Liz’s snow pants and maybe start on a pair of mittens for her, because some of these mornings are starting to get awfully cold, and I’m sure she would appreciate some…and mustard, got to make…honey mustard, because she thinks it sounds good and I…sure am starting to smell something good from down there, guess she’s got some supper going, sizzling goat roast and sure wish I could have some, but I can’t, of course because here I am stuck up on this roof with no way to get down, so I’ll make the best of it, and plan the rest of the day, tomorrow--until he woke with a start at the sound of Liz’s voice, not having realized he’d been anywhere near sleep. Must have been, though, for when he went to rise he found his legs terribly stiff with cold, nearly insensible and useless to the extent that they refused to support him, sending him toppling forward, clinging briefly to the edge of the roof with his heels before taking flight, landing with a solid thud at Liz’s feet in the snow. Finally thoroughly awake if dizzy and a bit sick he still possessed the composure to give her a big grin in the firelight streaming out through the open door, hauling himself painfully to his feet and grabbing the cabin wall hard for support as he fought to get his breath, to fend off the blackness that wanted to come.

“You were looking for me?”

Liz, startled and more than a bit alarmed at Einar’s sudden appearance, was not at first sure how to answer, took his arm and tried to lead him inside but he clearly wasn’t ready to go, so she abandoned the effort for the moment. “Yes, I was coming to get you for dinner but you sure didn’t have to respond by throwing yourself off the roof at me! What were you thinking? Are you alright? You look frozen, as usual, but that was an awfully hard landing. How are your ribs?”

“Still attached. Sorry to have startled you like that. Just checking the shingles, seeing if we have enough.”

“Well, do we?”

“Do we what?”

“Have enough shingles? Or hadn’t you got done checking, yet?”

“Oh, got done a while ago and was just…watching the stars come out, you know, and pondering tomorrow’s work. Might have gone right on pondering all night long, if you hadn’t come out when you did and demanded my immediate appearance! And yes, we have enough. For the cabin, and half the woodshed, both. Got a lot done today.”

“You were asleep, weren’t you? And fell off…”

He squinted, scrubbed a hand across his eyes in the hopes of clearing his vision some, but it wasn’t working. “Well I’d rather not put it like that, but yeah, guess so. Real nice place, that roof, and I’d got done with my work, or mostly.”

“Nice, maybe, but not for a nap! What am I going to do with you?”

“Help me bring in the shingles, if you wouldn’t mind too much. Don’t want you and little Snorri up on this roof if there’s any helping it--a person could fall off, you know--but if I could stack them up and hand the stacks down to you, things would go a good bit quicker.”

“Yes, of course. But I don’t know if I want you up there again right now, either! How about just leaving the shingles for morning?”

“Might blow away, and then we’d be spending half the day hunting all through the timber until we found them again. I won’t fall off. Nothing to worry about…” With which he clambered once more up onto the roof, balancing carefully on hands and knees as he collected shingles more by feel than by sight in the almost-gone light of evening and handing them down to Liz.

[AlaskaSue]

Might have figured Einar would know how to make those pitch-coated, hand-made shingles less susceptible to fire; I don't think I would have thought to put dirt on them but that's a really good idea!
I'm looking forward to seeing how they end up roasting that goat! Hope the two of them get to work on some winter-wear for Einar too pretty soon, but really hoping for the weather to break and warm up for them a while. We are surely enjoying a few gorgeous, brisk days while the last of the leaves fall here - it's just a brilliant and beautiful world!!

[FOTH]

Sept 25, 2011 17:47:19 GMT -6 AlaskaSue said:

I'm looking forward to seeing how they end up roasting that goat! Hope the two of them get to work on some winter-wear for Einar too pretty soon, but really hoping for the weather to break and warm up for them a while. We are surely enjoying a few gorgeous, brisk days while the last of the leaves fall here - it's just a brilliant and beautiful world!!

Sounds like you're getting some great weather up there--this is my very favorite time of the year.

Hopefully Einar and Liz will get some more warm days before the winter really sets in for good--they could definitely use them.

Thanks for reading!

[FOTH]

Clear, sunny and cold dawned the following day, Einar up early once more to run the trapline and this time returning with a rabbit and two ermine, their sleek coats patchy with the lingering brown of summer, but mostly white, like the ground. By the time he made it back up to the cabin clearing after resetting those snares, Einar’s fingers were going rather white at the tips, too, not at all a good sign, and he swung his arms in an attempt to get some circulation going, beat hands against his legs until they ached and pressed numbed fingers to his stomach, but couldn’t seem to get them warm. Guessed perhaps his morning soak in the frigid black water of the tarn--ice had lain thicker on it that day than he had yet seen, requiring some work with the axe before he could chop himself an opening large enough to be useful--had a good bit to do with getting him into his current trouble. As did his action afterwards.

Hadn’t been able to feel his fingers since he came out of the water, and though he did not at all like to admit such, it was beginning to appear that the training sessions were exceeding his body’s current ability to compensate, and were--a fact which had been lurking at the back of his mind for the past several days--putting him at serious risk of frostbite, or worse. Which of course only made him want to try harder, stay in longer and work through the trouble, bring his body back in line with what his mind was demanding of it, and he’d half considered turning around and going back, starting all over again with the morning’s soaking and probably would have done it, too, but for the fact that he knew Liz would be concerned if he was so late in returning. Kept going, instead, but couldn’t stand the thought of returning to the warm cabin without finding some resolution to what he perceived as a growing weakness in him, an unacceptable slipping that would surely lead to his demise, or worse, if not immediately corrected. In search of a solution he shrugged off the hides in which he’d wrapped himself for the journey, stretching out full length in the snow beneath some willows and lying there still as a stone--but for the shivering, which had been entirely out of his control since leaving the water--staring up at the sky until the deep, throbbing pain eased and his back went entirely numb. Breathing through the pain and the numbness both, he attempted to breathe himself warm again and succeeded in that he did not lie there and sleep the final sleep that he probably ought to have, in his condition, maintaining awareness and working very deliberately against the drowsiness that tried to creep in and take him, keeping it up for a very long time as he watched the sun creep lower and lower on the opposite ridge and finally touch the willows beneath which he lay, sending their heavy coating of frost floating like golden mist to the heavens. Only then did he allow himself to rise, stiff and still and purple-cold all over as he struggled to his feet, but satisfied that he could, when circumstances demanded, still do a fine job of muddling through. Hadn’t much helped his fingers though, and he hurried as well as he was able to cover the remainder of the slope up to the cabin.

Liz was delighted at the sight of the plump, sleek-furred rabbit and the two lithe little ermines when Einar handed them to her, because a nice rabbit stew was sounding good for that day’s lunch, but most especially for what the catch said about the potential of the trapline they had so carefully laid. Appeared it was going to produce. Less delighted about Einar’s half frozen and silent condition--he hardly dared attempt speech, knowing the results would only worry her, stood there instead with glazed eyes and unsteady legs, hoping she would hurry outside to clean the fresh game and leave him alone to thaw his fingers; it was going to hurt--she sat him down on the rocks beside the stove and pressed a pot of hot broth into his hands. Big mistake, and he had to clamp his jaw to keep from crying out--no difficulty, as he was already clamping it to prevent his teeth rattling--quickly depositing the pot on the rock beside him.

“Fingers…little frostbit I think. Better do some warm water real quick, thaw them out. Pot’s too hot.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I hadn’t seen. We’ve got to make some mittens for the two of us before we do much of anything else, so this won’t happen again. Here. Give me your hands, let me see. Yes, your fingertips are pretty white, but they’re not frozen hard, so that’s good news. They look a lot like mine did a couple times last winter, so I really think they’ll be alright in a day or two. Don’t look like they’ll blister. You did this setting the snares? Re-setting them, I mean?”

“Yeah, I did.” Which while not untrue certainly did not represent the entire story, and Liz suspected as much, wanted to get after him for visiting that icy tarn once again--looked like he’s stayed in far too long, this time--but figured the thawing fingers would serve to reinforce the point far more effectively than she could ever hope to. She let the matter go, turning her attention to the stove and gently heating a pot of water until barely lukewarm, perfect for bringing the fingers back to life. Helping Einar get himself situated near the stove with a bear hide about his shoulders and the warm water close at hand she left him alone to do the soaking, heading outside to clean the recently snared ermines and rabbit.

The soaking hurt as Einar had known it would do, felt like millions of tiny red-hot needles piercing his flesh and reminded him of all the times he’d had to soak his toes in the desperate weeks-long attempt to save them that past winter. The thought of it made him sick, smell of those rotting, gangrenous toes heavy in his nostrils until he snorted and shook his head, pressing his stomach against the nausea and finding himself quite glad he hadn’t yet eaten any breakfast. Better have something pretty soon though from the feel of things. Had it not been for the hurt of the reawakening fingers--good that they hurt, it’s always good when they hurt, means they’re still alive--he was quite certain he would have been asleep by then, having spent all his energy contending with the cold. Barely even officially winter yet--not that it matters up here, winter starts when it starts--and here you are nearly frozen to death for…what? The third or fourth time? How long do you really think you’re gonna last if you keep this up, Einar? One of these days you’re gonna miscalculate, run out of energy and crash before you make it back to the cabin and then what? You leave your lady and the little one to fend for themselves out here, that’s what. And that’s something you got no right to do, not if you have any choice in the matter. Better find a different solution, different way to do this, better…

Better try and wake up I guess, the way Liz is shouting at you. Seems you ended up on the floor somehow, must’ve fallen asleep somewhere along the line, and she doesn’t sound too happy. Not happy at all. Maybe you managed to spill the broth, and that’s what’s got her so agitated. Come on, open your eyes. That’s all she wants you to do, sounds like, and how hard can that really be? Too hard, apparently, because the next thing he knew Liz was lifting his head and pressing a spoonful of honey--he knew it by the smell--against his clenched teeth and his eyes were still closed and she still didn’t sound happy. Not good, and he didn’t want to sleep again but couldn’t seem to help it despite a clumsy-handed attempt to press his injured ribs and jar himself to full alertness, woke several minutes later to Liz shoving a stick between his clenched teeth and after it a spoon of honey and that seemed to help somehow even before he’d swallowed it, let him get his eyes open again, and he sat up.

“Sorry about that. Guess all this heat just made me a little sleepy…you’ve got it real warm in here.”

“It was more than the heat, I think. Here. Finish this honey, and then when you’ve had some more time to wake up we can split the broth.”

“I’m awake. How’re this morning’s critters? Rabbit looked like it had a nice thick pelt.”

“They’re great! Both the rabbit and ermines are very nice and healthy-looking, and I was thinking we ought to have rabbit stew today for a change, since it’s been a while.”

Einar agreed, told her so and tried to muster some excitement at the proposal, seeing that she was quite pleased to have the option of including some rabbit in their diet but something was bothering him, something out there on the edge of memory, pushed aside, it seemed, by his brief but intense period of sleepiness and then he remembered, sat up straighter and took her arm. Had to tell her.

[ebb]

That poor Einar he needs the rabbit stick so bad, but it would only injure him with no chance knocking any sense into him. I belive if i were Liz i would have tied him up and force fed him by now.

[thefishinmagician]

Give Einar an I.V. of Nutella! Stat! ;D

(Speaking of which...I have a great recipe for the best Nutella brownies ever! If anyone wants it, let me know and I'll start a new thread!)

[EdD270]

I would have hoped that EA would have learned his lesson after losing those toes. He'll be in dire straights, and so will Liz and the young'un, if he loses any fingers.
What does it take for a foolish, egotistical, self-centered, prideful man to learn a little humility and do what's right, regardless of what he's done in the past, or what he thinks ought to be OK for him?

[AlaskaSue]

Sept 26, 2011 17:13:32 GMT -6 thefishinmagician said:

Give Einar an I.V. of Nutella! Stat! ;D

(Speaking of which...I have a great recipe for the best Nutella brownies ever! If anyone wants it, let me know and I'll start a new thread!)

Oh!
Yes please!! ;D

[FOTH]

Sept 26, 2011 19:42:46 GMT -6 AlaskaSue said:

Sept 26, 2011 17:13:32 GMT -6 thefishinmagician said:

Give Einar an I.V. of Nutella! Stat! ;D

(Speaking of which...I have a great recipe for the best Nutella brownies ever! If anyone wants it, let me know and I'll start a new thread!)

Oh!
Yes please!! ;D

I agree! What could be better than Nutella brownies?

You can start a thread in the "story" section if you'd like, where the question about where to post comments is posted.

This sounds good!