Bloody Shame

One of my friends, Shelly, doesn’t do Facebook so much anymore.  You know why?  She’s tired of people showing off.  She’s got a good point.  A lot of my friends’ posts are sharing the good things (tho’ we’ve all probably got that friend who only post down-in-the-dump things, too), strutting it like they’re something to talk about.  And so I’ve made it my new life goal to be brutally honest, even when the news is not good.*  I don’t want to depress the heck out of you, but need to work harder at seeking and accepting encouragement when I’m needing it.

I begin with the saddest of tales, which starts back in July…

:::note that it has taken me almost a week to even speak of this matter:::

Our extended family meets in the Lemhi hills of Idaho annually.  We’ve been doing this for a half a decade longer than I’ve been alive.  Our wee family has made it our commitment to go each year, as my aging grandparents who started the tradition may not continue on for as long as we’d like – And by buggar, we’re going to get as much of them as we can!  Well, last summer while we were in Idaho, my folks were finishing clearing out their dairy items that were up at and around our house (their dairy used to be housed up on this part of the property, but they have upgraded and moved closer to their place), and in an act of utter mistake, the plumber/electrician that they hired left some breakers off at our house unbeknowest to anyone.  We came home to a freezer seeping onto the floor.  It was devastating.  But never fear, it was only our inside, smaller freezer, with damages only averaging around $150-$200.  We still had our Big Freezer, and so have slowly been building back up our inside stash of veg, berries and other goods.

Over the years we’ve had a few almost big thaws.  Just last winter our Big Freezer had come unplugged briefly without our knowing, but was caught in time that everything was half or more frozen.  We broke out dozens of crockpots, countertop roasters, bbq’s, and filled ovens – returning all of the food in either pre-made dishes, or easy-to-grab cooked quantities for later use.  It was a lot of work, but was awesome to have quick foods so easily accessible.

JR & Sarah were rummaging through the old dairy rooms this past week and noted that our “fridge door” was ajar.  Thinking it was the unplugged double door fridge out in the exterior rooms, I didn’t worry, but decided to go check the Big Freezer anyway.  What I saw made my heart stop.  I slowly went to check just how bad it was, inching open the dripping freezer door.  I started at the top shelf: room temperature.  Second shelf: much of the same.  Third.  Fourth.  By the time I was at the bottom shelf, there were some items partially frozen, but really nothing I could feel great about using.

We have a bit of a family joke about a member (not in this house) in it who sees past expiration dates.  And I get that.  I do.  Heck, we ferment things for weeks on end; age things for years…  But if a pasteurized, processed, or meat item isn’t 100% perfect, I chuck it.  I won’t even feed it to my animals.

And so we began the tedious task of shoveling everything out of the freezer so we could sop of the liquid mess (sorry for the gory details).  Then we put it all back in and plugged the freezer back in.  With company, we couldn’t see dealing with it yet, and figured it’d be a lot easier if it were all frozen and solid when we did.  This Saturday it’ll head out.  What a bloody shame. <chuckle>

I’m not going to lie: I cried like a baby.  As I was taking stuff out and chucking it into a bucket, I was whining at each and everything: “The kids raised these pigs from scratch – and did such a good job with chores!!!  And now…” “This is the last of our beef…”  “This salmon was caught in Alaska!”… It went on and on.  It was, indeed, our freezer full of all of our best.  I think I cried most at the 2 dozen bags of frozen breast milk and colostrum that had curdled.  I’ve never had an abundant supply, and was so proud that this time was going so well.  I remembered how pumping saved my <emotional stability> those first three days of my milk coming in this time.

There was sheep milk, chickens, livers & hearts, a 20+ pound turkey, bags of chicken and beef bones for broth-making, ALL of our 2012 pork, beef, salmon fillets, wild berries, pureed figs waiting to be canned, freshly cut corn… The list goes on and on.  Ugh!

It wasn’t so much the money.  We tallied it up and figure it’d cost over $1500 to replace what we lost, if we could even find something of similar quality.  Really, it was the hours and hours (and hours) of hard work, thought, and love that was put into it all.  It’s our lifestyle – we work, and save, and barter and shop until we can feed our kids the way we believe is good and right.  They watch us, work with us, and shop with us, valuing the farmers that we know, the work that they put into it, and the animals that we raise.  It broke my heart.

I realized that we generally take our Big Freezer for granted.  It’s always there, ready to be the main course of any meal.  Now as I prepare to make meals, I’m lost.  Every meal I come up with ends with an oh, I can’t make that… We don’t have any fill-in-the-blank.  Like bacon!  When have we ever not had bacon around?!  It’s ludicrous!

When I first saw the freezer and was sitting on the floor bawling my eyes out (poor Scott), I told him I wanted to move.  That our hard work was so pointless**.  That so easily everything can slip from you.  Yeah, I know – that was super shallow, but for anyone who fills their freezer like this, you know.  It’s only a small glimpse into this fleeting life of bigger things that are so easily lost.  But it’s also a reminder that it’s just stuff.  Nothing we can’t replace, or that we’ll be horribly lost without.

It’s also a good reminder to check the freezer more often.

And so we begin the task of hunting down our families meat in a new and unusual way for us.  For the first time in years and years from other farms, butchers, and fisherpeople.  At least enough to pull us through Spring when we can dine on our own again.  I guess we’ll be raising at least a hand full of chickens this year, if not more!

*if you all know me, tho’, I’m sort of a glass-is-half-full kind of girl, so have a hard time not adding a positive twist usually.

**but as any farmer knows, we pick up the pieces and move forward with added zeal.