Pruning the apple trees

This photo was taken last week when the weather was colder. Most of the apple trees needed to be pruned. The trees don’t show up very well in the photo, but they’re there. I have 10 apple trees, semi-dwarf, planted in the fall of 2008. The tallest of these trees is now over eight feet. I’m hoping I might even get an apple or two this year.

Two of my apple trees — both Arkansas blacks — died last summer. I replaced them with two two-year-old Arkansas black trees from the same nursery — Century Farm Orchards. Because Arkansas blacks are my favorite apples, I requested full-size trees, rather than semi-dwarfs, for the new trees. In response, David Vernon, the orchardist, taught me something new. He said that I can make the semi-dwarf trees into full-size apple trees by planting the trees deeper, with the graft underground. Then, he says, roots will grow from the part of the tree above the graft onto the semi-dwarf root stock, thus producing a full-size tree.

Hawk 0, Chastity 2


Chastity, the day after the second hawk attack. Her eye is OK, but she’s squinting from the hawk-peck wound just below her right eye.

The hawk came back.

Once again, it went for Chastity. Ken found her lying on the ground beside the chicken house, in a state of shock. He picked her up and put her inside. There was some sign of injury to one of her wings, but no blood. And there was a hawk-peck wound just under her right eye that caused her eye to swell shut. A day later, she was squinting, and we could see that her eye was OK. Today, two days later, her eye is almost back to normal except for the scab underneath it.

Chastity seems depressed, but she’ll make a full recovery.

Now what will we do. Clearly the hawk is not going to give up on trying to eat the chickens. Besides, hawks waste chickens. I understand that they eat the brain and lungs and leave the rest. Even worse, Ken has seen evidence that the hawk has built a nest at the edge of the woods right below the abbey. I would have assumed this to be a squirrel’s nest, but would a hawk enter and settle down into a squirrels nest, as Ken saw it do? I doubt it.

For now, we’re letting the chickens out only when we’re there to shepherd them, while we try to figure out what to do. We could put up a scarecrow and a fake owl, but I doubt that would be very effective. Some people report success stringing fishing line above the chicken lot, but I’m not sure that’s practical here. The fence is large (almost 400 feet). Though the fence is 8 feet high, I doubt we could string fishing line in such a way that it wouldn’t sag and strangle us as we worked in the garden. I’m looking for new ideas for defenses and trying to figure out what’s practical.

I’m pretty sure that it’s illegal under state and/or federal law to kill a hawk. That’s out of the question.

In so many ways, it’s exciting to live in a place with so much wildlife. But I never guessed that it would be such a struggle to defend the chickens and the garden. Between the deer, the groundhogs, the hawk, the fox, and the voles, everything wants to move in and eat us out of house and home.


The hawk at the edge of the woods, only 35 yards from the abbey. Photos by Ken Ilgunas.


Hawk nest or squirrel’s nest? Ken saw the hawk actually enter and settle into the nest.

More shiitake mushroom logs

Ken has finished a second batch of shiitake mushroom logs. This time, we used oak, plus a couple of locust logs as an experiment.

The first batch of logs have not yet shown any sign of production. It’s too early — five months. But we did the work in August, which is the least favorable time of year to start mushroom logs. Still, we have high hopes that that first batch of logs (all poplar) will make mushrooms.

The shiitake mushroom spawn, by the way, were mail-ordered from Oyster Creek Mushroom Company in Maine.

Ken shot video while he was making the new logs. He plans to post a how-to video of the process on his blog as soon as he has a chance to do the editing. Also, here’s a link to the photo series on the mushroom work Ken did in August.

a-mushroom-cabin-13.JPG
The first batch of mushroom logs, last August.

The preparedness dilemma


I can guess what this retired Stokes County farm tool was doing in 1935.

What is the right amount of preparedness? The official position of the American government is that every family should have at least a three-day supply of food, water, and necessities. The assumption is that, in a regional disaster, help can be expected to come within three days. But that didn’t work too well, did it, for the people of New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina? Some churches ask their members to maintain a year’s supply of food and essentials.

When we ask ourselves just how much preparedness is enough preparedness, we also must ask ourselves how prepared we can be without creating waste. Food won’t store forever. Do those people who store a year’s worth of supplies have a system for rotating and using those supplies? If they don’t, then it’s all wasted. If they do rotate their supplies, then they’re always eating food that’s old and will soon go bad. And of course preparedness is not only about food. Some “preppers,” as they’re often called, also seem to think that they need huge stocks of guns, ammunition, gasoline, and so on. Is that a good investment?

The December 20 & 27, 2010, issue of The New Yorker contains an article titled “The Efficiency Dilemma: If our machines use less energy, will we just use them more?” The article is here, subscription required. The article describes a problem that befuddles economists and environmentalists. That’s the fact that the benefits of increased efficiency generally don’t lead to less consumption. An example is refrigeration. The efficiency of refrigerators has increased many times over since the electricity-guzzling refrigerators of the 1950s, and yet the total per-capita cost of refrigeration has risen steeply since the 1950s, because we refrigerate more things. The article quotes James McWilliams, the author of Just Food, on an American habit of which I am very guilty:

“Refrigeration and packaging convey to the consumer a sense that what we buy will last longer than it does. Thus, we buy enough stuff to fill our capacious Sub-Zeros and, before we know it, a third of it is past its due date and we toss it.”

Yep. And my own freezer needs cleaning out even as we speak. The article quotes Jonathan Bloom, author of American Wasteland, on a disturbing statistic: Since the 1970s, per-capita food waste in the United States has increased by half, and we now throw away 40 percent of our food!

What this means for a preparedness strategy is that, unless our strategy is prudent, we are just generating more waste.

I marvel sometimes at the survivalists who gather at www.SurvivalBlog.com. These folks, right-wingers who see themselves as libertarians, think that stashing food is not enough. They also believe in having lots and lots of guns (including assault weapons), reinforced bunkers, elaborate surveillance equipment including night vision scopes and trip wires, big generators with a lot of stored fuel, etc. I can’t help but ask myself: Is that a good investment?

An old friend of mine, Jonathan Rauch, published a book in 1993 titled Kindly Inquisitors: The New Attacks on Free Thought. In the book, Rauch talks about the mindsets of certain people who think they have a direct channel to the truth. “Fundamentalism,” Rauch writes, “is the strong disinclination to take seriously the possibility that you might be wrong.”

If we have a well-considered model of the world, we can make some educated guesses about the future. But no one can know for sure what the future will bring. Shouldn’t we hedge our bets, then, and do what we can to prepare for possible hard times without creating yet more waste? If “the end of the world as we know it,” or TEOTWAWKI, as it is called at SurvivalBlog, never happens, then what good were those huge arsenals of guns, those huge stashes of ammunition, those costly concrete bunkers, those perimeter-surveillance systems? They were a huge waste. They cost a fortune. They did not improve anyone’s quality of life, now or in the future. Those tripwires and No Trespassing signs weakened, rather than strengthened, a community.

Before buying those arsenals and building those bunkers, did those people ask themselves: What if I’m wrong?

So how much preparedness is enough, and how do we hedge our bets? We all have to make our own calls, based on our own situation and our own guesses about what we think the future will be like. I can speak only for myself.

My own view is that, though horrendous events such as a meteor strike or a total economic collapse could happen, the odds are against it. What I think is highly probable, though, is that hard times are not yet over and that Americans are going to have to adapt to a reduced or static standard of living. I also believe that Americans consume too much and waste too much. I will do what I can to prepare for what I think is highly probable. But I am nowhere near rich enough to prepare for all the kinds of bad things that could happen but for which the probabilities are too low to even estimate. This outlook is what shapes my view of the right level of preparedness.

So I ask myself, before I spend money on, say, a 400-foot deer fence around my little orchard and garden and henhouse, “Is this the right thing to do, no matter what happens?” In the case of the deer fence, I decided that it was the right thing to do, because even if I won the lottery I still would want to produce as much of my own food as possible, and around here that requires deer protection. Every expenditure for preparedness is an exercise in cost-benefit, priorities, and risk assessment. I’d like to have a generator, for example, but I see that as less important than, say, a good tiller. I bought the tiller. The generator must wait.

How much food should we store? We must all decide for ourselves. But the more of our own food we can produce, the less we have to store, and so I’m emphasizing production rather than storage. Even so, I have several milk crates full of canned foods in my storage closet, and the expiration date on much of it is coming up in 2011. I don’t really use much canned food, so one of the chores I must do soon is sort through that food and give most of it away before it expires. I’ve also got to clean my freezer and be smarter about how I use the freezer from now on.

How many guns do we need? My answer to that is about the same as one of my grandfather’s: a .22 rifle and a shotgun. A deer hunter would need more. An arsenal of automatic weapons, to my lights, would be a hobby at best and a paranoid obsession at worst. Nor can I imagine justifying the cost of such a hobby.

Again and again, as I reflect on the question of preparedness and sustainability, I think of 1935. Those were hard times in America. Industrialization had not yet reached the point at which many Americans don’t want to even cook for themselves and thus outsource their cooking to corporations by buying processed foods or eating at chain restaurants. Suburbanization had not yet happened. Outside the cities, most Americans still produced most of their own food. Communities were strong. Neighbors helped each other out rather than putting up No Trespassing signs and hoarding machine guns. As they said a few years after 1935, during World War II, “Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.”

Maybe this is a sentimental, unarmed (or lightly armed) Norman Rockwell view of hard times. But it certainly is more appealing than a Road Warrior view of hard times — guns and raids and slaughter. It’s also a level of preparedness that most of us can afford — those of us with jobs, at least. And even if 2011 turns out to be morning in America, a preparedness that emphasizes producing more for ourselves and doing more for ourselves while buying less is a good investment, good times or bad.

Managing your heat pump

The low temperature last night was 14 degrees F. When it’s that cold, I obsess about how to keep the house decently warm as frugally as possible. I also obsess about wear and tear on my heat pump.

Heat pumps are an efficient source of heat — except when it’s very cold. Heat pumps don’t create heat. Rather, they extract heat from the outdoors air and move the heat into the house. When it’s relatively warm outside — say, when the temperature is in the 40s — this doesn’t take much work and thus doesn’t use much electricity. However, when it’s 14 degrees outside, there’s less heat in the outdoor air to move inside, so the heat pump must work much harder. All heat pump systems have a backup form of heat that kicks in when the outdoor unit can’t keep up with the indoor thermostat’s request for heat. Most heat pumps, like mine, have electrical coils that heat up (like a toaster) and provide this backup heat. This is called resistive heat.

If the temperature outside is in the 40s, then the heat pump is up to three times more efficient than resistive heat, an energy savings ratio of almost 3 to 1. If the temperature outside is 14, then the heat pump is no more efficient than its backup resistive heat, a ratio of 1 to 1. This relative efficiency is called the coefficient of performance. It can be graphed as a curve in which efficiency rises with the outdoor temperature. (See graph below.) At low outdoor temperatures, when the heat pump is no more efficient than its backup heating coils, then you might as well use the heating coils and save the wear and tear on the heat pump.

If you read some heat pump forums online, you’ll find lots of debate about how to manage your heat pump with this efficiency in mind. Most people will say that you should just set your thermostat lower at night but otherwise leave things alone. The heat pump’s control mechanism, they say, can decide for itself when to switch on its backup heat.

I disagree.

Last winter I followed this just-leave-it-alone advice. On a night when the outdoor temperature dropped to about 11 F, the heat pump ran almost all night. In the morning, its coils were covered with ice. This is regarded as normal. If the outdoor unit ices up, the heat pump will “reverse” periodically and melt the ice.

But I can’t help asking myself, why should I let my heat pump grind all night when it’s severely cold, and ice itself up, when at those temperatures the heat pump is no more efficient than its backup heating coils?

I’ve been experimenting. All heat pumps (at least the newer ones) have a position on the thermostat called “EMHEAT,” or emergency heat. The so-called emergency heat is the heat from the backup heating coils. But why should I think of it as emergency heat? It can be used as emergency heat, of course, if the outdoor unit fails and you’re waiting for repair. But why not think of it as heat to be used when it’s so cold that the outdoor unit’s efficiency drops to 1 to 1 (the same as the emergency heat)? There are clear advantages: The outdoor unit just stops — no wear and tear. A heat pump struggling to produce heat in severe cold will grind on and on, and the air coming out of the ducts will be barely warm. Whereas the “emergency heat” will be toasty warm and won’t have to run very much.

Last night, knowing that it was going to be really cold, I set both my thermostats to EMHEAT. I set the downstairs thermostat for as low as I could bear — 55. I set the upstairs thermostat (my bedroom is upstairs) for a bit warmer — 60. During the coldest part of the night, the heating system would start up about every 20 minutes or so, run for three to five minutes, then switch off. I found that much more acceptable than having my heat pump grind and blow cold air all night.

This morning, when the outdoor temperature climbed back to 26 degrees, I put the system back to normal. Right now, at 11 a.m., I’ve brought the temperature up to 65 degrees upstairs. It’s 59 degrees downstairs. I won’t bring the downstairs up to 65 degrees until later this afternoon, when the temperature is higher outside and providing heat is cheaper.

I have no doubt that the “experts” on the Internet forums would say that I’m diddling and that I should just let the system use its own logic. But the problem is, the system’s logic is very crude. It doesn’t even know what the outdoor temperature is. I don’t know what the system’s rules are for when to resort to the “emergency heat,” but it may be as simplistic as “if the thermostat is requesting heat, and if the temperature in the room is still dropping, then turn on the ’emergency heat.'”

I can imagine much smarter algorithms that would consider the outdoor temperature, the unit’s efficiency at that temperature, the difference between the outdoor and indoor temperature, the temperature of the air blowing through the ducts, the actual temperature of the room, and the temperature requested by the thermostat. This could produce a nice balance between the competing factors of efficiency, cost, and human comfort. I’m sure that large commercial systems do have more sophisticated control systems. But until residential systems do, I’m going to diddle with the controls.


The green line shows typical heat pump efficency as outdoor temperatures rise. Note that the heat pump isn’t significantly more efficient than resistive heat, or emergency heat, below about 25 F. The COP scale is the coefficient of performance, described above. Graph by Colorado Springs Utilities

Chickens and grass

Every morning when I let the chickens out, they head straight for the grass and start grazing. I had never really thought of chickens as pasture-loving grazing animals — they’re scratchers. But they love to graze.

I tried to do some research on chickens and grass to try to understand how they can digest grass and what part grass plays in a natural chicken diet. Authoritative sources were scarce, but one source says that chickens will eat up to 30 percent of their calories in grass. They cannot, apparently, digest the cellulose in grass the way cows and other ruminants can. But if the grass is young enough and tender enough, then the chickens can get a lot of food value out of it. Obviously their gizzards grind the grass very effectively and their digestive systems break it down, because there is no sign of grass in the chicken poop.

Grass has a lot to do, it seems, with the nutritional superiority of eggs from pastured hens vs. commercial factory hens. According to Mother Earth News, eggs from pastured hens have much more vitamin D, 1/3 less cholesterol, twice as much omega-3, 2/3 more vitamin A, 1/4 less saturated fat, and 7 times more beta carotene.

I’m hoping that the winter rye grass I planted as a cover crop for the garden will supply the hens with greens for most of the winter.

Part of the miracle of farm ecology is the way farm animals can make human food out of things that are inedible by humans — cows make milk from grass, for example. But chickens, as long as they can run free, can work this magic as well. It’s nice to think about how some of the energy and nutrition in my eggs comes from the grass growing up the hill and not just from laying mash bought at the mill. Even in December, the chickens are still finding plenty of their own food inside the fence around the garden and orchard — about 10,000 square feet. Right now they eat only about half as much laying mash as they do if they’re kept in the coop. During the summer, when bugs were plentiful, the hens’ mash consumption dropped by probably three quarters. Clearly they’ll eat what they can find first and resort to laying mash only as necessary.

Black Twig apples


Black Twig apples straight from the orchard

I was watching an episode of the Two Fat Ladies cooking show last week (I’ve been working my way through the entire series on DVD), and they were making a dish with apples. One of the ladies said, “But don’t use Golden Delicious. They have no flavor.” Then they had a little discussion about how Americans don’t know much about apples.

I couldn’t agree more. I make the same complaint all the time, especially when I pass the apples in the grocery store. I’ve probably said it a thousand times. Apples must be ugly. “Pretty” apples are bred for grocery stores.

Some people also would be afraid to buy an apple with a name they haven’t heard of. They want the mass-market varieties — Golden Delicious, Winesap, Granny Smith, etc. They’ve forgotten the names of the old home-orchard varieties.

I bought my apple trees from Century Farm Orchards in Caswell County, North Carolina. I had to make a trip there today to pick up two apple trees I had ordered — two two-year-old Arkansas Black trees to replace two young trees that died during the summer. Century Farm specializes in old Southern varieties of apple trees. I have 10 apple trees in my little orchard, and they’re a mix of old Southern varieties: Arkansas Black, Limbertwig, Kinnaird’s Choice, Mary Reid, Smokehouse, Summer Banana, William’s Favorite and Yellow June. I also have a Pumblee pear tree from Century Farms. The trees were planted in 2008. I’m not expecting the trees to be mature enough to bear apples for probably two more years.

Solar gain


The front door and hallway around 8:30 a.m.

Building a house will make you crazy. But one of the advantages of new construction is the greater energy efficiency of current building codes. Stokes County’s insulation requirements, for whatever reasons, are stricter than surrounding counties. For example, the amount of ceiling insulation required will not fit between the joists, so 2×4’s must be nailed on top of each ceiling joist to create a deeper channel for insulation. Building codes and inspections are a source of anxiety during construction, but after a house is finished and you get that coveted certificate of occupancy, building codes are a source of security.

I confess that the plan for the house at Acorn Abbey was selected more for its style and features than any practical considerations such as heatability. Still, at only 1,250 square feet, I’m not heating a barn. The house’s south-facing orientation, by pure luck, turned out to be perfect to get maximum solar gain in the winter and minimum solar gain in the summer. In the winter, when the sun is low in the south, the sunlight pours into the south-facing, east-facing, and west-facing windows. In the summer, when the sun is overhead, very little direct sunlight comes in those windows (except the west-facing windows, where I installed shades), and the sun heats mostly the attic.

Last winter, I did not have any draperies downstairs. Even though my windows exceed the building code requirements for efficiency, still any window is going to lose more heat than a wall. In particular, I could feel cold air around the north-facing double doors leading to the rear deck. I made a point of investing in heavy draperies before another winter. The four big windows in the living room now have heavy velvet drapes. Two of those windows face north. I bought thermal curtains to cover the double door to the deck. Curtains for the upstairs gothic windows are going to have to wait another year. The ceiling is high in that room, and the windows almost reach the ceiling, so heavy 12-foot-long draperies (9 feet wide) will be required — expensive and beyond my budget for now.

I don’t have any way to quantify the increased efficiency of the drapes, but my subjective impression is that they help quite a lot. For the past four or five days, we’ve had daytime highs in the upper 60s and nighttime lows of around 39. During weather like this, the heating system never runs, day or night. Daytime solar gain brings the upstairs temperature to about 73, downstairs to about 72. At night, with the draperies all closed, the upstairs temperature drops to about 66, and the downstairs temperature drops to about 65. Cooking breakfast raises the downstairs temperature to 66 or 67. The house then warms gradually during the day as the sun pours in. A ceiling fan in the upstairs bedroom, the room which receives the biggest dose of sunlight through the gothic windows, helps to push some of the warm air downstairs.

If I ever built another house (and I won’t), I think that, as part of the planning, I’d study the solar potential of each window and its orientation. There are online tools (which know the elevation of the sun above the horizon at any time of year) that will help you do this. Acorn Abbey is not a solar home, but every little bit helps. I like to ask people what their heating costs are, and so far no one I’ve asked has had lower heating costs than I have. Every time the heat pump comes on, I cringe a bit not only because energy is being used, but also because I’m adding to the wear and tear on my heat pump, which I want to last for a long, long time.


The eastern side of the living room


The downstairs bedroom, through the bay window


The lower stairs


The upper stairs. The spot of sunlight on the right is coming through the front dormer, which faces south and is not visible in this photo.


The upstairs bedroom. All the photos were taken about 8:30 a.m. on Nov. 11.

Time to make sauerkraut


You need cabbage, crocks, a scale, a shredder, and the right kind of salt

Making sauerkraut is not my favorite chore. Shredding the cabbage is tedious, and bits of cabbage go everywhere. I did the job out on the deck to keep the mess out of the kitchen. I use Harsch crocks, which are made in Germany especially for making sauerkraut. The Prago cabbage shredder requires a lot of manual work, but it does the job and gets the cabbage exactly the right thickness for sauerkraut.

I made 15 pounds of sauerkraut today, from cabbage bought in Virginia. I used a little more salt than last time — 3 tablespoons per 10 pounds of cabbage. Next spring I hope to make sauerkraut from my own homegrown organic cabbage.

The first tasting should be in early December.


Shredded and in the crock


I keep the crocks under a table near the kitchen

The garden in November


Winter rye grass

Back in October, I used the tiller to work 650 pounds of organic fertilizers into the garden area, then I sowed winter rye as a cover crop. The rye grass is doing well. Not only will it make a nice winter cover crop, it also should serve as a great source of winter greens for the chickens. Each morning when I let them out of the chicken house, they immediately start eating grass and clover. They have a craving for greens. I’m pretty sure that it’s the chlorophyll that gives their egg yolks such a deep orange color.


Beets

The beets and turnips have survived the light frosts and freezes we’ve had so far. I want to let them grow as long as possible, but I’ll have to pull them all the day before the first really hard freeze is forecast.


A frostbitten young fig tree


Patience, looking shabby

One of the hens, Patience, has been moulting. She lost her tail feathers. She looks pretty shabby at present, but I can see the new feathers coming in. She’ll need those feathers soon enough.