Chickies!

So 3 weeks ago my Buff Orpington started acting funny. She would puff up like a turkey if anyone came near and was spending alot of time in the nest box. At the same time we made the decision to re-home our Buff Orpington Rooster BIG Al. He had become a bit of a pain and I was intimidated by him. The day after BIG Al went to his new home, Wilma went broody. She stayed in her nest box for 24 hours, so we gave her some eggs to sit on. New to chickens I didn't know what to expect, certainly not her complete devotion to the project. She only left the nest box twice that I saw. Yesterday when I checked on her I heard that familar "Peep PeeP" sound. Today we have 5 new chickies, and are waiting on the last 2 eggs to see if they hatch. They are so precious!

James Bond- shaken not stirred

A few months ago a friend agreed to hatch some baby chicks for me. She has a flock of Ameraucanas and knew that I wanted to increase my flock. When I went to pick them up, sadly one chick had died, but the others distracted me. To "make up" for losing the one chick- btw these chicks were free, so how can you be upset with losing a chick that you didn't even have let alone pay for?- Stephanie brought out several that she thought might be Easter Eggers. Of course I said, "Yes, please I want them!" and off I went.
Some of you may know, unlike me at the time, that breeder birds are different from hatchery birds. Hatchery birds tend to be fairly uniform, so much so that you seldom get "really good show quality birds". On the other side, chicks are inspected and "culled" if they have any physical deformaties or problems. Getting chicks from a breeder or straight from a hatch- your chances are better for pretty birds- but if the breeder is not someone who culls their stock for perfection you might see bumble foot and other none fatal issues.
Such was the case with my Black Birds. I had a badly weakened chick with walking issues, one with a mal-formed foot and then there was....cue music~ James Bond.

Looking like a tuxedo wearing, ladies man, James Bond was fabulous. Dressed all in black with just a hint of a white ruffle at his chest, I knew he was special. But unlike the invinsible spy about town, JB seemed a little small and weak. Eventually he got sick with a respitory ailment. I surely thought he would die. I seperated him from the other chicks- who were by that time all doing well, and placed him in "hospital"- a small box with comfy bedding and quiet. Knowing that James never sleeps alone, I placed a sleep-over friend for him to cuddle with. Eventually James made a full recovery, although it took round the clock feedings and constant care, I was so happy he was alive. Now Bond is 12 weeks old and quite the attractive Easter Egger cockerel. His daper white shirt blaze has been replaced by a coppery red- he is such the individual.
May I present Bond, James Bond~

First of dozens (we hope)

I'm not sure you're really a chicken lady until the first egg appears. And despite the fact that small unidentified children come up to me and ask. "How are you're chickens?" I have really felt less-than when it comes to my newest endeavor to leave egypt. Everyday I would go out to the coop, lift lids looking for egg, only to find my kitten Boogie was the only one resting in the nesting boxes (he thinks he's a chicken). I had even resulted in looking through the woods trying to find hidden stashes of eggs, but each day I would come back empty. No eggs. No fritatas. No omelettes. No deviled eggs.

I had pretty much resigned myself to failure, when Friday last week there was a commotion in the coop- and not just in the coop, but in the whole yard. I had read about such things but had dismissed the stories as myth- but there my chickens were- SINGING! The Egg Song, oh what a beautiful melody. Bok Bok Bok BOGAWK! Over and over they all sang it. It was like a chant of encouragement to my sweet girl Bea. It lasted for 2 hrs.
When she emerged from the coop. Bea got a drink of water and a bite to eat and joined the flock, leaving me to find the prize- and there it was. What a gift! A wonderfully peach colored small egg. Now that would be wonderful enough, but later in the morning I realized one of my other girls Leila was missing. I looked all over for her, but she was nowhere. Maybe she was sad because she had no song. Maybe she was jealous of her sisters newfound ability. Maybe she was......naw that would be crazy. I opened the door to the coop and there she was. Comfy and secure and as I later found out- laying an egg!

So all the waiting was worth it. Bea and Leila have started laying pretty regularly, so much so that 2 loaves of Banana Bread were made with their gifts this morning. And when my hubby came home he was just in time to retrieve another of Leila's eggs still warm from her body.

I am finally a Chicken Lady.

Chickies!

So this So. Cal girl who used to live in an apartment nearly underneath the Harbor Freeway has become the Chicken Lady. Here in rural Georgia, it's pretty common to have chickens in the yard, so most of my friends think I'm a little crazy to always be talking about my chickens. You know it's bad when little children you don't recognize come to you in the local Wal-Mart and ask you "How are your chickens?"I have always liked chickens, my home has chicken-y items all over it. People were giving me "chicken things" way before the coop showed up and before the first "PEEP" was uttered. For the most part I love their colors and personalities. So when I found out their were chickens who would lay colored eggs (other than brown and white)- I knew I had to get me some of them there hens. Enter my friend Stephanie who has a whole flock of pure bred Ameraucanas. These lay true blue eggs. She also had Easter Eggers, who lay a variety of colors. So as a trade out, I gave her one of my Buff Orpington Roosters and she hatched me 4 Ameraucanas and 3 EEs.
This adventure has been very different than my first TSC, scoop 'em from a bin take 'em home in a box adventure. These chicks were less than 24 hours old and some had some issues. Probably these would have been culled by most hatcheries or even breeders. But I saw them virtually right out of the egg and said, "I'll take them all!". Stephanie warned me that some might not make it- but off I went with my puffy cheeked babies. For those unfamiliar with Ameraucanas of EEs, they have puffy cheeks and sometimes resemble chipmunks. Although mine are mostly blues and blue mixes.
So if all survive, one we are still watching closely, we will have 12 chickens- can anyone say "Omelette?"

I'm your Boogie Man~

For awhile now I've wanted another cat. With Izzy's emotional issues (Izzy is our 3 legged rescue cat/diva), we couldn't have one inside. After the chickens arrived- so did a passel of squirrels. Seems that they are very fond of chicken feed. With no dogs, they both passed away this year, the varmits were free to run play and EAT, and EAT and EAT EAT EAT!

It seemed like the perfect opportunity to get and train a "barn cat", one that wouldn't eat chickens but might leave several young squirrels on the front porch as a present. I posted on Facebook that I wanted a kitten. All of a sudden there were messages everywhere. FREE KITTENS! In the end I really wanted a solid black tom cat. Enter Boogie. He's not quite a tom cat yet- our squirrel bandits probably outweight him by a good bit- but he'll grow. Right now he's learning we are friends and so are chickens. He's such a loving kitty. Lets hope he loves the taste of squirrel.

A Sneak Peek

I can remember back when I was pregnant with Matt being so excited by my sonograms. Because of health issues I had to have so many we just had them all put on a video cassette. I would view the tape over and over- seeing them as a promise of something good to come.
Today I got a sneak peek at another future good thing. A friend of mine is hatching some Amerucana eggs for me, so that my chick-a-doodle family can grow and be complete. Although candling has been around for centuries- it is just as amazing to me as todays sonograms.
Hopefully in another couple of weeks I'll have baby chicks to post about. Looking forward to seeing Miss Helen, Miss Jackie, Prissy and Alice.

Bean Tunnel

So for those who know my son Matt and I, it comes as no surprise when I tell you- we do not live in this world. We tend spend a great deal of time in our heads dreaming, imagining and wondering; hence when it comes to doing something physically the results are often less than stellar. When I told my husband Jim that I was going to make a "Bean Tunnel", he asked me to wait. "Let me do it.", "Why not be a little patient and wait until I can build it." Laura, I don't think it's a good idea for you..."
My impatience and Jim's limited time away from work often collide, so we both knew that I would try to do this and it would probably be a disaster. I mean me with a sledge hammer, wire fencing and an untried plan was bad enough- throw Matt into the mix and we better have 911 on speed dial. Blood would most likely be shed, but on Matt and I went with a belief that armed with bolt cutters and a large pkg of zip-ties anything was possible.

It took us 2 days, ok maybe not 2 full days- I believe strongly in air conditioning, iced tea breaks and Matt was studying for finals. In the end, no band-aids were used and only a few plants suffered. Note to self: plant after you finish building garden stuctures. Now all we have to do it wait for the beans to grow, vine and cover our Bean Tunnel with fabulous foilage and delicious beans.
Oh and these are stringless beans, so not to worry that I will can dozens of quarts of stringy beans again this year- despite my husbands encouragment that they added fiber to his diet. Like I said- I don't really live on this planet.

Let the games begin... Can Jam 2012

Strawberry season is once again here! We are fortunate to have a local farm that grows strawberries and has the option to pick-your-own. I've been spending quite a bit of time at Payne's not only picking for my own canning expeditions but for our Can Jam; where I and a friend shared our knowledge and experience with a group of ladies.
The idea of me "teaching" a class in canning was sort of funny. I have only been canning a year, but so many women asked if we could show them how~ we finally agreed. I tried to weasel and said, "I am sharing, not teaching." Coward that I am, I still took the plunge and in the end 20 women and one lone rooster said they had a good time and took home a jar of strawberry jam which they made in class. In fact many of them bought their supplies and have begun to venture into the amazing world of canning.
So far I've got 14 pints on my own shelves and figure maybe 21 more will do it. Then it's on to Blackberry~ I've already started to scope out some tasty patches.


DEAD CHICKENS! no just getting a tan~

Sometimes my mouth screams and other times it's just my brain, usually when I see something I can't fully process by my early warning system tells me it's BAD. Such was the first time I saw one of my beloved chicks laid out, feathers splayed, bared under belly showing, eyes 1/2 closed- it all said DEAD CHICKEN to me. Before my brain could transfer the scream to my mouth, though- there was movement. Someone stepped on someone- cause in the chicken world someone always steps on someone ruining a meal, a bug catching or in this case a sun bath.

Did not know that chickens sunbathed, or at least that was the concensus from Backyard Chickens my new favorite go-to chicken emergency sight.

I have learned alot about chickens over the last 5 weeks. How to know that your quirky chicken Alice is really a Don Knotts style rooster, that chickens love to eat eggs and a host of other tid bits that while you're in the newbie throwes of chicken ownership seem like the most important facts you can know- scripture for chicken lovers. Anyway- life is much more interesting with 6 feathered friends in the backyard- they got their new run before the coop was ready so they could move out of their cramped little 3x6 apartment. As you can see it's sunny and they are happy, bugs are a plenty and there's a great sun deck for the chicks to go wild on Spring Break.

The "He" and "She" of it all

So the chicks are now about 2.5 weeks old and I have realized some useful information: When buying chicks at the feed store~ $1.99 means "Straight run". For those of you who are not knee deep in wood chips, who don't revolve your life around cleaning pop off a feeder because someone likes to be higher than everyone else (which means feeder sitting)~ who have not yet discovered the joys of chickens...Straight Run means you takes your chances. Boys and girls, hens and roos all in the same bin- what they scoop is what you get.
I am now the proud momma of 3 little red hens and possibly 3 obnoxious Buff Orpington roosters. We won't know until someone crows. Alas if menfolk they happen to be, a friend who has lots of Buff Orpington hens needs a man around the Orpington house...so I got that goin for me- which is nice.
Here's their latest class pics.

 Maisey in all her glory. She's not one of the possible roos but she is so my fav chicken.

This is Wilma or possibly Willy, we'll see if she starts to crow soon...

As you can tell, Alice or possibly BIG Al is scrawny and squawky.

This is Pruda, a little freaked out...



Chicks Gone Wild

 The girls are here! I am no longer barren, chickless, without peeps!
After several months of pouring over chicken catalogs, websites and magazines, I had made up my mind to get chickens. Team Chicken, my effort to obtain some feathered friends was not a totally smooth campaign. Mostly due to my husband who would not only have to become a supporter of Team Chicken, but a financier as well. Eventually I won him over- well pestered him to death until he relented is more accurate.

 The problem became how to bring the future egg providers into my home. Do you order, then there's the minimums. Do you find a local provider, try finding one that has the breeds you want. Feed store? In the end, the Tractor supply won out. Of course that was after my coop got sold out from under me and I entered into what can only be described as the Land of Poo Poo Face. Unattractive and terribly distraught. My husband has no defense against this and I try not to use it as a weapon to get my way. As fast as the lower lip pooched, Jim had the car keys in hand and off we went to see what TSC had delivered that day.

 We came home with 6 chicks, 3 Buff Orpingtons, 1 New Hampshire Red and 2 Production Reds (most likely Rhode Island Red and NH Red mixes). Currently all are healthy and happy, eating, pecking and generally being chick-y. Each already has a personality and name. Maisey is shy and sweet, Alice is small but plucky, Wilma is large and round, Leila has a beauty mark and a fiesty streak, Pruda is sort of the middle child with a pretty blonde head, Bea is confident and always has first pick or peack of the food. 2 Americanuas should be added to the mix shortly to round out the flock to 8.

I'm sure this is just the start of an interesting adventure. Animal care has never been my strong suit, and livestock intimidate me, but I look forward to many fresh eggs and days watching Chicks Gone Wild.

Change is good, right?

Currently I have pine shavings in my spare bedroom, basil seeds in my purse, canning jars pretty much everywhere and Tractor Farm Suplly's number written on my palm (couldn't find paper).
I have never been what you call an "outdoor-sy" kind of girl. As a matter of fact my mother often times punished me by making me go outside~ without a book! Agony. I didn't like sitting in grass because it poked my legs. I hated having anything dirty, sticky, dusty, slimy or smelly on my hands. How did I get to this place in my life? A place where I can my own veggies, make my own bread and today- await the arrival of my first baby chicks?
This week as my birthday came and went, I started thinking about all the things I assumed I would do- but didn't. Graphic Artist/Lawyer, world traveler, single and childless living in LA has become SAHM volunteering full-time at the local church, living in a rural log cabin in North Georgia, canning, quilting and now farm animals...ok it's just chickens, but I'm also considering a goat at some point. What's wrong with this picture?
Nothing. Although it means consistently stepping out of my comfort zone- a place I really don't like- it also means adventure and a chance to see where God can take you. This week it's taking me into owning my own chickens- who knows what the week after will bring.

Bread Dough 101

I sometimes wonder if there is a pioneer gene- or perhaps it's all those Little House books I read in the 70s. Whatever the cause, doing "it" the old fashioned way has much apeal for me. Now don't misunderstand me, as much has I love quilting-I do it mostly with the help of a machine. As much as I like canning, I'd be less enamoured with the process minus my wonderful 5 burner gas stove. And bread making wouldn't happen without my Kitchen-Aid stand up mixer.
I got my cobalt blue, stainless steel bowl friend about 20 years ago as my first Mothers Day present and since then we have been inseperable. Shortly after she came into my life, I decided I would learn to bake bread. At that time, classes in things like bread baking were limited to large cities, where the "foodie" movement was but in it's infant stages. I taught myself. Taught might be a mis-nomer because what I really did was make a whole bunch of mistakes until the only thing left was somehow right. Being the quilt machine, gas stove, industrial mixer kind of girl that I am, my bread recipes tend to be a little mechanical and basic. On the flip side, once the basic bread is assembled then I can be creative in the outcome. My pizza dough become Foccacia, Garlic Butter Knots and Bread Sticks. Yeast Roll dough transforms itself into my Cinnamon Roll recipe.
Most people think bread is complicated- it isn't. The ingredients are as basic as they come. Flour, liquid, flavoring, levening....and time. It's the last ingredient that throws most people into dispair, and dough into trashcans. Bread needs time, and for some it's the one ingredient in such short supply that they dare not spare it. I get that. I love a good short-cut, but some drives are better taken at a slow pace. Bread is one of them. The following is my basic yeast dough recipe which can become Big Fat Yeast Rolls or with a few additional ingredients and a technique called a jelly roll you can have Cinnamon Rolls.

6-7 cups Bread Flour
2 cups milk warmed to no more than 110 degrees (bathwater temp)
2pkgs yeast
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup melted butter
1 egg
pinch of salt

In large mixing bowl (I use my beloved Kitchen-Aid with the mixing paddle) add warm milk, yeast and sugar. Begin mixing together. Add melted butter and egg, more beating. Lastly the pinch of salt.
After all ingredients are mixed, start adding the flour about a cup at a time. Make sure to give it time to incorporate. Before you add the last cup or so, change to dough hook attachment. Add the rest of the flour or as much as needed to make a SOFT dough. It should just be pulling away from the sides. "Knead" the bread using the dough hook for about 10 min.
Place dough in a large bowl that has been greased with either a little oil or the leftovers of melted butter from the paper or glass. Cover the dough with a towel or I use a plastic grocery bag and let rest and rise in a warm place for 1 hour or until doubled in size.
Place risen dough (lovely and spongey) on a floured surface and begin to knead it by hand. This is a great work out and not as complicated as it looks. You are simply working the dough- giving it some energy and preparing it to rise again. Simply push, roll and pull back for 10 minutes or until your arms drop off- which ever comes first.
Grease your baking sheets, loaf pans or whatever pan you will use to bake your rolls or bread. Remember to have plenty of room for the rolls/bread to rise. They will double again after shaping. Shape the dough and place it on/in baking pans. Cover with a towel or plastic. HINT: I always spray my rolls with cooking spray, roll them in butter or somehow "grease them". It will prevent sticking to the covering surface and give them a nice sheen in the baking. Let rise in a warm spot 1 hour or until doubled in size.
Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees and bake uncovered for approximately 20 min. for rolls. Watch them the last few minutes- NO BURNED ROLLS! While watching them, do it up right and melt another couple of tablespoons of butter and brush it on the tops. Serve warm- YUM!

Happiness is a brown speckled egg

With all due respect to Charles Shultz, his infamous happiness list needs to be amended~ as far as I'm concerned happiness is a brown speckled egg.
Over the past months I have been waging a campaign called "Team Chicken", in the hopes that my husband will finally surrender and embrace having chickens. Some methods have been subtle; leaving chicken publications in areas that encourage reading (enough said) and then others more overt- "Honey I would love to have chickens for my birthday." To say my efforts have met resistance would be an understatement, but I am not one to give up, easily that is.
Yesterday, at lunch, I decided to enlist our friends Chris and Trish in my assault. Now, drafting soldiers when they are sort of unaware of the battle ahead is not the wisest of moves- but they are familiar with all areas of animal husbandry and support in my joining the world of chicken ownership was sort of assumed. Their opinions were mixed and my heart rose and sank with each varied opinion. Chickens are dirty, chickens will eat just about anything, chickens will roost in your trees, fresh eggs are much better. To add to the roller coaster, I found out that Chris' dad had just got chickens. 25 to be exact, and my first thought was- "that's way over his quota, unless he's gonna add eggs to the bar-b-que menu he offers at his corner store- he should share the chicken wealth." Everywhere I turn, people are reveling in their feathered companions. Well reveling might be an eggs-ageration (cough cough) but I am chicken-less and envy kind of comes with the territory.
I was so pre-occupied nursing my barren existence that I almost missed the part where Trish reminded Chris that his dad had sent me fresh eggs. For me? I quickly brightened- forgetting my brief loss. After all the war is not over and I do get fresh eggs- on a regular basis. Slowly the wheels began turning...perhaps some chicken apprenticing would be in order. Help feeding and caring for the chickens would give me practical experience (a huge bonus in my Team chicken column) and I'll feel better about putting in some effort in my egg supply.
Today I took my 18 wonderfully brown eggs and made Deviled Eggs, Fudge Brownies and Yeast Rolls. As I washed them I appreciated the variety in size and color. I wondered at their happy little speckles and found happiness. I know they did not come from my own chickens, Team Chicken still lives. But as in most worthy campaigns, you have to remember to take the time to appreciate what it is you're fighting for.

Fried Rice

As a child, living in Hawaii, I was exposed to all sorts of Asian cooking. When my son was born I wanted him to be able to try new things as well- ok maybe I just wanted someone else to be able to eat with chopsticks since my husband is all about meat and potatoes. Matt learned to eat with chopsticks before he could do cursive, but for the most part we only ate Chinese, Japanese and other Asian foods in resturants. It seems to be that the simpler the foods the more intimadated we can be to make them at home.
Such was the case with Fried Rice.
Now I know, Fried Rice as we know it is "americanized"- but we love it and whether it's American, Chinese or a hybrid of both, limiting it to "take out" is to deprive oneself of a delicious meal anytime. The anytime part is what motivated me to the following recipe.
Being in college, Matt tends to keep strange hours. He studies late at night, sleeps in then suddenly changes it all when called into work. Meals need to be ready to heat and eat, but still have some nurishing ingredients. Fried Rice has become a go-to item. Cooked fresh, to his tastes and with ingredients I can pronounce, it checks all the boxes.
Hint: If you cook the rice in large batches ahead of time, you cut the work in 1/2.

4 C. cooked long grain white rice (better to slightly undercook rice)
1 C. onion (I prefer sweet onions)
2 eggs (beaten)
3/4 C. soy sauce
3 tbls sugar
1 large or 2 small cloves garlic (pressed or smashed)
1/2 tsp powdered ginger (freshly grated ginger is great too, but adjust to taste)
1/4 C. vegtable oil (using cooking spray will cut fat, but the taste and mouth feel of rice will be different)

Mix soy sauce, ginger, garlic and sugar together, set aside.
In a heavy bottomed skillet (I used cast iron), add a tbls. of oil and heat on high. Add eggs, coating the whole bottom of the skillet. When eggs are cooked on one side flip over and cook remaining side. Remove frome pan. Let cool as you cook onions, then slice into thin strips.
Add another tblsp of oil and saute onions. Cook until soft but not brown (you may want to reduce heat).
Add remaining oil and cooked rice. Stir to heat. If the rice is cold from fridge, you may want to beak it up a little with your hands before adding it to the skillet.
Add soy mixture and incorporate it into the rice. The rice will absorb the sauce and change color.
Add egg strips, mix and you're ready to serve.

This is a basic platform- you can add veggies, cooked meats, seafood- whatever your tastes call for. It's also a great time to use some of those bits of leftovers.

Sharing

Over the last several months, I have been thinking of what it means to "share". For those of us who ever babysat multiple children or were real parents (unlike myself I have one fabulous son who is 20) and had more than one child; the word share was a 24/7 concept. Share your toys, share the last cookie, share the blanket. My mother would often remind my sister and I that if we didn't "share" there would be none. Sharing was not just a way to stay out of trouble, it was done in the face of having nothing at all.

Whole communities exsisted because of the practice of sharing and it's more wholesale version "bartering". The owner of cows traded milk for eggs, the owner of chickens traded eggs for wheat; and before too long everyone had French Toast. It wasn't a mandate or a rural form of communism, it was a means of survival and community. Maybe it's the Wal-Mart on every corner, or that life seems to move so fast, or maybe we are so self-absorbed in our own lives to see need or name our own, - whatever the reason, we simply don't share much anymore.
Last summer, a friend declared she had pears. Her huge pear tree had provided her with an abundance of fruit and she wanted to share what was left. I am not a huge fan of pears; although one of my favorite jams I made this year was a Pear and Plum with Ginger- go figure, but I told her that I would like some to make jams for Christmas. The next Sunday, Lorie's husband appeared with nearly a bushel of pears, which I in turn transformed into various jams. After exhausting my recipe supply as well as my jelly jars, I still had about 2 doz. pears left. I remembered that Mrs. Payne, who's family owns the farmers market I frequent, had longed for some pears to make jam like her mother used to. The next day I shared the remainder of the pears with her.
Because one friend shared with another, dozens of people were blessed with pears in some form or another- sharing is foundational to community. It's sad that it seems to have gone out of fashion. While others endeavor to "bring back sexy", I think I might just try to bring back sharing.
So what does that have to do with amazing 1/2 Gal. canning jars? They, and dozens more of varying sizes, come from an older gentleman I never met. A friend of mine, who is always on the lookout for jars for me, was helping him clean out his basement. He used to can long ago but age and health problems make it difficult for him. She asked if he was willing to sell them. He said, "No." But he was willing to give them to me, which brings me hope that sharing is making a comeback!

Leftovers- Lemon Rosemarry Chicken

For years my husband Jim has taken his lunch to work. He is the ultimate in for-going taste for frugality, hence the rise in Chef Boyardee stock during the 90s. At some point, I made it a practice to pre-pack containers filled with "leftovers" in the hopes that he would eat better and that nothing would go to waste.
Although warmed leftovers is a wonderful step up from opening a can-o-lunch, it can still be boring eating a repeat of last night's performance. Turning a leftover into something new is not always possible, but when the morph is extremely successful- I celebrate.

YEA for Lemon Rosemary Chicken into Lemon Rosemary Chicken Salad on 7-Grain Whole Wheat!
1/4 C. Mayo
2 Tbsp Honey Mustard
Splash of Lemon Juice
Fresh Ground Pepper & Sea Salt to Taste

Mix and combine with 1lb (give or take) of cubed cold chicken. Serve up and don't forget to save the leftovers :)

A few weeks ago my wonderfully frugal husband decided that buying some staples in bulk was a good idea. Flour for my bread making, sugar for jamming and rice. The flour and sugar went into bins no problem, but the rice was a new item and with nowhere to really store it, the bag sat on the counter. Not sure how many re-locations the parcel made, but eventually it was either the floor or a perpetual weight lifting session everytime I went to cook, bake or make a glass of tea.

Then it dawned on me~ jars. With countless empty jars waiting to be filled taking up space in the pantry, I figured why not fill them. It would keep the rice safe from varments not to mention a decent way to move portions from the pantry to the cupboard without a small crane.

Eventually canning will resume, but not to worry; with all the jars I get gifted from family and friends there's room enough for all.