Green Tomato Pickles

Green tomato pickles are my all time favorite pickles- they are beautifully translucent and crispy and sweet and spicy and the best thing that has ever happened to a turkey sandwich. I used to make a batch every year, but it has been a while since I have made them and we have all missed them. I have tried several recipes, but Mrs. Bobbie Gamble's recipe in the St. Thomas Episcopal Church cookbook "Without a Doubt" is the best one ever.

I started with a 25 pound box of green tomatoes. I usually grow my own, but this year it just isn't happening. Being so close to the Atlanta Farmer's market is a good thing sometimes! I got a box of the medium sized ones so they would fit in my pint canning jars- the large ones don't do as well. I washed and cored the box of tomatoes and then sliced them. Neatly slicing 25 pounds of tomatoes takes more time than you might think. These are best when they are sliced really thinly so I use my handy dandy Martha Stewart Kmart mandolin wanna be slicer. It will slice and dice your fingertips just as quickly as it will those tomatoes so a klutz like me has to pay extra close attention.

After they were all sliced I mixed up a solution of pickling lime and water. Make enough to cover the tomatoes generously because they seem to grow. I made 5 gallons for this sink full- the ratio is 1 cup of lime to 2 gallons of water. You have to use a nonreactive container for this- no aluminum pans. Our enameled cast iron sink is just right. Just in case you were wondering if I had been overdosing on testosterone, that is not my arm.

 

 Give everything a good stir. Make extra sure all the tomatoes are separated so they can get a good dose of the lime water. My Uncle Bubber made me this wooden paddle years ago and I use it all the time when I am making large batches of things.

Here they are, ready for the evening soak. You need to soak them at least 8 hours, so overnight is the best option for me.

 
 They need to be completely submerged, so I placed a few clean plastic cutting boards down and then weighed them down with two canning jars filled with water. Isn't that old Gum Turpentine bottle in the background great? It is from Savannah, GA and I think the longleaf pine graphic is neat. I just love old glass storage containers.

Shearing the Sheep

If you live anywhere near the South, you are painfully aware of the drought and heat wave we are in the firm grip of. I do not believe that anything suffers from the heat more than our two well insulated sheep, Cupcake and Jellybean. They live at the ranch where I work and they were miserable, so we called out the sheep shearer to do his thing and make these girls happy.















The first order of business when shearing a sheep is to catch it, which sounds much easier than it actually is. The sheep tend to be less tame and trusting and more nervous than our goats, and they are very fast and surprisingly nimble. This combination can make them extremely difficult to catch unless you bribe them; you can see in this photo that Cupcake is interested in the Fig Newton that is being offered, but is suspicious. When you get close enough, it is a relatively simple matter to grab hold of the wool- but then you have to hang on, which can be a bit more troublesome. Once you get a halter in place and can control their heads the whole job becomes much easier.




























Whitney, one of Eric's border collies, looks on.















Eric is the livestock manager at the ranch. Here he is taking advantage of the fact the girls are well secured to give them a dose of worm medicine and check them for any other problems.





















Jellybean is frustrated and indignant- she is hoping for a break in the fence somewhere so that she might escape, she has no idea how much better she will feel in a little while!



























Jellybean is now on the shearing stand and protesting that fact mightily.





Halfway there!



























Just a little left under the chin.......

















Lightning, one of our miniature horses, does not like the sheep near his pen and is very protective of his space. The sheep has plenty of room to back away from him, I believe she enjoys antagonizing him.





















Whew! All finished, now they can be much more comfortable in this heat.

Sapelo Island

We had a great trip to Sapelo Island. Most of the island is owned and managed by the state of Georgia and  both State Parks and Department of Natural Resources (DNR) divisions are working on the island. Kevin needed to deliver a DNR truck to the island so the girls and I decided to go down for a few days and then give Kevin a ride back home. We went over on Friday and came home Tuesday. This was not to be a relaxing "beach trip" but an adventure.

A very unusual place, Sapelo is an island of the coast of GA, south of Savannah. The island has a fascinating history, you can read about it here. http://www.sapelonerr.org/historymaps.htm The only people that have stayed to live full time are a group that have descended from slaves that once lived and worked on the island that call themselves the Geechee Gullahs. They own 400-500 acres, called Hog Hammock, and when I asked how many people lived there, the answer I most often received was "about 50 or so" but it seemed like there were more.

Kevin had to catch the barge at 7:30 on Friday morning, so he left the house in the state truck about 3:30 am. The barge runs twice a month, as everything on the island must be shipped in or out. Any vehicles must go out/come in on the barge. The garbage truck drives onto the barge and makes the two hour trip out, disembarks, goes around the island picking up garbage and then is taken back over on the afternoon barge trip.



There is a car graveyard on the island and when there is room on the barge, they put a few on to bring back to the mainland to get rid of.

This is the road going down to the ferry dock- you take your supplies down and unload, then go park and walk back down. The girls and Daisy and I went down later and caught the 3:30 pm ferry. The island is only accessible to the public by a passenger ferry. I much prefer 3:30 pm to 3:30 am! We had to pack in all of our food, etc. and the ferry allows only one bag per person and a cooler.

I loved this interpretation of the one bag and a cooler rule. It speaks volumes in regard to the type of person that would go out to Sapelo.

The ferry operators are strict and absolute. You must register and have your name on a roster. You are not allowed to "just go over and take a look around the island" you must have someone meeting you there. They do not accept excuses. They are impervious to pleas and begging. If you are one minute late you miss the ferry. Unless you have your own boat, the only time you can leave the island is when the ferry goes. There is no doctor on the island, so if you get hurt you are out of luck. I was very relieved when we (accident prone Isabelle in particular) made it back to the mainland in one piece.





I was pleasantly surprised at the ferry. I pictured a rusty, yet seaworthy vessel that trudged along a few feet above the water line with a crusty old salt manning the wheel. This was not the case. It is a large beautiful catamaran called the Katie Underwood. She was named after a lady who was the island midwife for many years. It was told that with all the babies she delivered she never had a single mother or child die.

  

Below, there is a large air conditioned cabin that reminded me of a bus, except there were life preservers. Hmm.

On the top level, there is a nice seating area and the bridge, which was an enclosed, air conditioned control room.


I was surprised when engines on the ferry started up, they were extremely powerful. I was in for an even greater surprise when we pulled away from the dock and started towards the island- that ferry could MOVE. You had better be sitting down or hanging onto a rail. I found out later that it is powered by 2 motors that are 1600 hp each. No wonder. We were escorted out to the island by a pod of about 8 dolphins.



Isabelle did not like being against this rail- she looks like she is having fun, but her Mama can see the stress waves rolling off of her. The centrifugal force is unsettling her. Rosemary and Daisy are just happy to be there.



Now she is enjoying the ride.




This is the island ferry dock. After a 30 minute ferry ride we met Kevin on the island, unloaded our things and everybody piled in the back of a pickup. As we made our way inland, I was reminded of the poem "Evangeline" by Longfellow. I could only remember bits and pieces, but what I could remember fit perfectly.


This is the forest primeval....... Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic.





This was the first taste of the eerie quality of the island I would receive and I felt as though I were trespassing. Even the girls were quiet.



We stayed in the ABAC Shack. ABAC is the Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College in Tifton, GA.



This is where the students stay when they come out on field trips to the island. It is like a cross between summer camp and a fraternity house. There are three showers, two toilets, about 30 beds and a kitchen/common room area.



The best things I have to say about the lodging was the air conditioning was cold and the hot water was scalding. Those are important things and it beat the hell out of staying in a tent.



This tree was right outside the ABAC Shack- so elegant and beautiful. There were an amazing number of live oaks, many looked like they had been there for centuries.




I think this might have been an old store- the entire ceiling on the inside was a beautiful old pressed tin complete with moldings.

The island has a tiny store that sells-according to it's sign- fishing supplies, beer and ice cream. It was not open any of the times we went by. From what I understand, the man that runs the store also drives the schoolbus. He picks up the kids in t he morning, drops them off at the ferry, (they go to school on the mainland) he comes back and opens the store. When it is time to drive the bus back to the ferry to pick the kids, he closes that store and gets back on the bus.

 
R. J. Reynolds, Jr., of R. J. Reynolds Tobacco, bought Sapelo during the Great Depression in 1933. Reynolds and his family used the island as a part-time residence for three decades. He added an airstrip and hangar so that his doctor was able to come and go more easily as he suffered from- and ultimately succumbed to- emphysema. He consolidated the island's African-American residents into Hog Hammock and put aside the area that is now the UGA marine research station. In 1965, Reynolds' widow sold the island, with the exception of Hog Hammock, to the state of Georgia.





In the 1950's, Reynolds (the last private owner of the island) had a well known German engineer brought in to pave a few of the roads- to this day they have had very little repair and require almost no maintenance. The main road is called the 'East-West Autobahn" which is a comedy. The vast majority of the vehicles on the island have top speeds of about 25 mph. The rest of the roads are dirt tracks, or merely grassy ruts.






This is called Long Tabby and houses the post office. It is the site of the original syrup mill.



The University of Georgia has a marine research lab that was established by Reynolds in the original plantation dairy barn. The UGA facility is very picturesque. I am looking forward to learning more about it. There is a nonfunctioning lighthouse out on the beach near here.




This is the old dairy barn and was the first building Reynolds converted to a research lab.


Right down from the marine lab is the Reynolds Plantation. It was also a surprise to me. It was a Mediterranean style home- nothing like what I picture when I hear "Southern plantation". I think Reynolds must have been a extremely eccentric man, judging by the interior of the house. Former presidents Calvin Coolidge and Herbert Hoover as well as aviator Charles Lindbergh were visitors to the island. Groups of 16 or more can rent out the Reynolds plantation.





The tour bus.








This is an old steam box- supposedly Reynolds "took treatments" to help with his breathing and emphysema.



Reynold's bedroom, complete with oxygen tank.



One of the rooms off the pool had the walls painted in murals by an artist named Athos Menabonie. I had not heard of him, but he was evidently in great demand and was second only to Audubon in regard to paintings of flora and fauna of the Southeast.

The servants could look down through these veiled arches to see if the people below needed anything. There were little cubbyholes and hidden doors all over the place- what a fantastic place for hide and seek! The whole place was like a rabbit warren.

The library was amazing- books of every description.



After the Lindbergh baby was kidnapped, a barred entryway was added to the nursery.



The pool is under this cover, below is a photo from the plantation's heydey.





The gun room.



Detail of a grill off the gun room. The hunters would come here to warm up and cook whatever they had harvested that day.



Another strange painting- these were everywhere.



Bowling alley.



The next set of photos are from the circus room. Originally it was a ballroom, but Reynolds, in his eccentric fashion, had it converted to this.


















Behind a partially concealed door was a whole collection of player piano music.




We walked the beaches every night until after midnight hoping to see sea turtles hatching, as there was a huge full moon and this was the prime hatching season.




This picture is out of focus because it is the middle of the night. I have never seen a moon so bright in my life.



We were very blessed one night and watched as a prehistoric little body squirmed it's way up through the sand then immediately (and quite hastily) made it's way straight down into the water. We almost had to jog in order to keep up with him. How he knew which way the water was is beyond me. The fact that a tiny creature- no bigger than a silver dollar with nothing but instinct to guide him- is able to survive in that ocean is miraculous. I have wanted to see a sea turtle hatchling emerge and make it to the ocean my whole life. Mark another one off the bucket list :-).
 
We learned from the biologist on the island that many turtle nests were being dug up on beaches on the Gulf of Mexico and sent via climate controlled Federal Express trucks to Sapelo and would be reburied. This was being done so that the turtle hatchlings could escape the worst of the oil spill. There seems to be some question as to whether or not this is really the best course of action; all of the sea turtles that hatch at Sapelo will return there and not to the Gulf Coast. What will this do to the turtle population in the Gulf? How will the genetics be affected? I suppose people can only do what they think is best at the time. We were told there was a large group of brown pelicans that had been rescued from the oil spill in Louisiana, cleaned up and brought to Sapelo for release. As the birds were released they all congregated, became airborne and headed straight back to Louisiana.



This was a fascinating beach. The water was not pretty at all- it was dark and murky due to organic matter from the marshes. Because of the food provided by that organic there was so much sea life and so many shells it quickly became our favorite beach. There were all sorts of sponges washed ashore with bizarre little crabs and tons of beautiful driftwood. The first day we were there, the girls picked up over 100 large sand dollars in less than an hour.








The sand was odd- it had areas that were very dark sand which is evidently lighter in weight than the white sand. The wind made for some beautiful designs.








Down a very long and overgrown road we came upon Chocolate Plantation.

There were a few tabby walls still standing and the old barn had been restored.

 
The island is absolutely teeming with wildlife. On Monday night, we counted 42 deer in the three miles from the beach to the ABAC Shack. Armadillo were everywhere and the place was crawling with rattlesnakes. There are also feral hogs and cattle. The cattle live mostly on the north end of the island and you could see their tracks and manure and could hear them lowing from time to time, but we never saw any. At night, you can hear the hogs squealing and tearing through the palmetto. I would hate to be out lost in that at night. I don't know what would be worse, the hogs, the rattlesnakes or the unusually ferocious mosquitoes. There were scads of raccoons, and in the marshes there were a red variety that looked like a red panda. Very strange looking and very cool. Near the ABAC Shack there was a female raccoon with one young one that we saw fairly often. I was told the tame ones don't last long because they are a traditional and integral part of  the locals' Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years' feasts.

The only time that matters on Sapelo is the ferry schedule. The entire island seems to be in a state of slow but constant decay. The pace is slow and relaxed. I wish I were a writer so that I could adequately describe the way this island made me feel. Very small. It made the daily worries of my life seem inconsequential. In some areas, it seems as though time has stopped altogether. I can't wait to go back again.