Sieves and Riddles

Yesterday I got an intriguing note from my dad, asking if I’d like to pick up some ‘screeds’ he had inherited from his grandfather. Having seen something like this in use on Gardener’s World (Monty Don always covers his newly sown seed over with sifted compost, using a tool that looks like these), I immediately answered yes! Today, I’ve been researching what these tools are called, what they were originally used for, when they were in use, and more. It’s been a fun project! Turns out there is a lot more to these tools than meets the eye. If you’re interested in history or craft, then continue with me in this deep dive.

My first idea was to look up the word ‘screed’ since that’s what my dad called them. Other than our usual use for this word (meaning a long speech or piece of writing), it is used in construction, when applying concrete or stucco. It’s a tool that flattens the wet concrete or stucco, like a board, moved back and forth to smooth it. The back and forth motion of the tool might be why dad (and possibly his grandfather) used this word to describe it, but the pictures of screeds did not match up with the tool in front of me. I knew I needed to continue looking.

I visited the website for The Heritage Crafts Association in Great Britain. This is a place dedicated to keeping craft alive, and I found this site when Dad made me the hurdles I use in the garden. It’s full of crafts that have gone extinct or are endangered. Scrolling through their ‘red list,’ I saw the words ‘sieves and riddles’ and this sounded likely, so I clicked through. Bingo! This is what these tools are called. The word ‘riddle’ comes from an old English word that meant ‘coarse sieve.’ One of my riddles is quite coarse, with 1/4” hardware mesh, and then other is finer. The HCA says that these are for use in “gardening, shellfish harvesting, pottery, and other activities.” The area where they were originally made was in Derbyshire, and there were many companies that made them, “producing beechwood and wire mesh sieves and riddles for mines, agriculture, fishing, and even on the railways, where they sifted ballast between the tracks.” They were made from strips of beech that were steamed in a steaming chest in order to be bent; they were rolled around cylinders and left to dry for several days. The ends were ‘chamfered’ (a symmetrical sloping edge) and tacked together, and then holes were drilled for the weaving of the mesh. The galvanized steel mesh was woven inside the rim. I believe that these from my great-grandad were made a bit differently, with a pre-made wire mesh instead of one woven in place, but I’m not totally sure about that.

HCA went on to say that it is difficult to source the straight-grained beech required, and that affects the viability of the craft. A man named Mike Turnock was the last known maker of these tools, and he retired in 2010 unable to find someone willing to continue the craft. The craft went extinct. But it was recently revived by a man named Steve Overthrow, who consulted with Mike Turnock, and now has a robust business in Langport. His website is full of these sieves (he claims the sieve is the tool, the riddle is the mesh), in all kinds of sizes, meant for use in varied pursuits: Horticultural, Fishing, Kitchen, and Foundry.

So that told me a little history about sieves and riddles in the UK, but what about in America? How did this tool arrive here, and what was it used for? My research led me to the Shaker Museum in Mount Lebanon, New York. A 2018 blog post detailed their collection of sieves, which apparently is generous; “the smallest, under two inches in diameter, with a mesh of finely woven silk, was used to sift out impurities from medicinal powders. It is the largest sieve in the collection, however, that is the topic of this discussion. At nearly 40 inches in diameter and with a mesh of woven rawhide set at an average of an inch and a half apart, there are not a lot of things that wouldn’t fall through its holes.” The post goes on to detail that when they obtained the sieve from the Shakers in Canterbury, New Hampshire, it was explained that it had been “used for sifting corn husks which were used to stuff mattresses.” Along with straw, corn husks were used to fill bags of cotton ticking to be used as a mattress, and standard practice, once a year, was to “riddle” the contents of the mattress to sift out dirt and bugs.

In another post from the museum, they show a photo of another sieve on which is printed, “Seed Loft No 10.” Reading on, the post says “sieves of all sizes were made, sold, and used by the Shakers at Mount Lebanon beginning as early as 1810. They were made with bentwood rims of ash, elm, and maple. The rims were fitted with a woven mesh of horsehair, iron wire, or brass wire. The size of the sieve rim and how tightly the mesh was woven determined how the sieve was intended to be used… sieves should probably be seen…. as multi-purpose tools. For example, sieves intended to clean wheat, could have just as easily been used to screen the dust from charcoal at a blacksmith’s forge.” This got me thinking about how my great-grandfather would have used his riddles. So I called my dad for some more information.

My great-grandfather, Audley Heintzelman, was born in 1884 and lived his entire life near Youngstown, Ohio, in a small town called Hubbard. He was a railroad man, maybe a station agent, because Dad remembers him using Morse Code, and station agents were usually also the telegraph operators. He was also a farmer in the sense that everyone had a small farm in those days, to provide sustenance for the family. Dad writes, “He had quite a bit of property with a big barn, pond, fruit trees, and vegetable gardens. The only animals were chickens. I just remember him looking like a farmer, working around the property, always sawing logs for the fire, using the scythe for cutting the grass… their property also had coal. Hubbard was near Coalburg. As a kid I remember seeing coal at the surface. You didn’t have to dig for it.” Of course this time my dad was describing was when he was a kid visiting his grandpa there in the 1950’s. But in the early l900’s, when Audley was working for the railroad, the railroad would have been king, having taken over from the earlier canal system. The main railroad operating there was the B&O (which was first to cross the Appalachian mountains and connect Ohio to the East Coast). The steel and coal industries used the railroads to transport product.

Audley might have used these tools on the railroad or in his gardens. He may have even gotten them from the robust Shaker community in Ohio at the time. Wanting to know more about how they could be used in gardens, I found a book called ‘A History of the Garden in Fifty Tools’ by Bill Laws, who published in 2014 and lives in the UK. He explains that the sieve is closely connected to basketry, and that its principal use was to sift soil to remove stones. He tells of one example discovered in a burial barrow in Saxony which dated back 30 centuries. It was cast in bronze and had a handle embellished with the horns of a bull. Steam-bent wood containers would have been made since the Iron Age. Mr. Laws then talks about Mike Turnock, the sieve-maker in the Peak District who retired in 2010! He writes, “He cut and steamed rims of beech wood, bending them into perfectly circular frames and, as his father had done before him, weaving the metal screens, using a crook-shaped tool to thread the wire. In his father’s time, in the 1950’s, the railways had been his principal customer, using large sieves to screen the ballast that was laid between the tracks.” This leads me to believe that my great-grandpa took these screens from the railroad (were they no longer used? did he buy them? were they a retirement gift? who knows) to use in his home garden.

Which is exactly how I will use them, I imagine. Although, I found other uses for them as well. In a book called ‘History of Worcester, Massachusetts,’ I found this reference: “Wire-working as an industry in Worcester was contemporaneous with wire-making. In April, 1831, Jabez Bigelow manufactured “wire sieves, such as meal sieves, sand riddles… and baker’s riddles.” He apparently wove the wire on huge looms, just like thread! So there is evidence that riddles were used in baking and in mills. Truly, an all-purpose tool!

One more interesting item about sieves. In my research, I came across ‘The Sieve Portraits,’ a series painted of Elizabeth I in the 1500’s.

According to Robert Stephen Parry, who writes about the paintings, “A humble sieve is not something a Queen would be familiar with on a day-to-day basis. It is a practical piece of equipment used by gardeners and bakers to separate the finer elements of a substance from the coarse. Of soil or flour, for example. Separating that which is desirable and useful from that which is merely waste. Thus, around the rim of the sieve, we can read the inscription: A TERRA ILBEN/ AL DIMORA IN SELLA. Translated, this means “The good falls to the ground while the bad remains in the saddle.” So it is not just flour or soil we are considering here. It is a kind of sieve of human quality that we are being presented with. Elizabeth, we are urged to believe, is a creature of discernment and refined tastes. Especially where the good and the bad of human nature are concerned. Would-be suitors take note!”

This was a fun rabbit hole in which to fall. I love the idea that we are all keepers of a history, in craft and tools. This strings a thread (weaves a wire?) between me and my ancestors. I shall use the riddles and when I do, I will think about my great-grandfather, Audley Heintzelman.

Plantain Salve

Since I have a little extra time these days (ahem), I decided to delve into an area of botany that I know very little about - the medicinal properties of herbs. So many things that are in regular rotation in my garden can be used to make all manner of healing ointments, tinctures, and poultices. This is medicine that has been practiced since the dawn of time. According to the University of Virginia, “the oldest known list of medicinal herbs is Shen Nung’s Pen Rs’ao or Shennong Ben Cao Jing (c.3000 BC), a Chinese herbal that is probably a compilation of an even older oral tradition.” The Chelsea Physic Garden, occupying four acres of land along the Thames, has grown medicinal plants since 1673. That’s where my plantain came from - seeds brought home with my mother many years ago from a visit to Chelsea Physic (she and my dad used to live near there in London), and planted in a rather neglected but sheltered spot in my North Garden.

Plantago major is easy to find in any meadow or even in urban locations. It belongs to the family Plantaginaceae which also contains foxgloves, speedwells, and snapdragons. It seems to have followed in the footsteps of men, which means it likes disturbed, lean soil. It doesn’t mind compaction and is tolerant of of foot traffic. Its flowers are wind-pollinated and its seeds can remain viable for 60 years. This is why plantain is considered a terrible weed, hated by many. I planted it on purpose, because it can be used to make medicine. Now I’m finally getting around to it! (By the way, the entire plant is also edible, with the leaves best when they are young and tender.)

As an herbal medicine, plantain is a good all-around plant for common burns, stings, and cuts. It can be used as a poultice; just chew the leaves into a mash and apply to affected area. It tends to slow bleeding, but it’s generally thought of as an herb to ‘draw out’ - that is, to draw out the poisons in a sting, or even to draw out splinters. I thought this would be a good ‘first try’ sort of salve, something that is thought of as all-purpose, and therefore a good thing to practice on. The first step is to collect the leaves, wash them, and then dry them thoroughly. This can be done in a dehydrator, or you can just hang the herbs to dry. Once dry, crumble them into a container and cover with olive oil (or almond oil).

Leave it to sit for at least two weeks, and every time you walk by it, just give it a little swirl or mild shake. After two weeks, you have a medicinal oil.

Use 1/4 cup melted beeswax for every cup of medicinal oil. Melting beeswax is a pain, but there is no other purpose for beeswax - it cannot be composted, so instead of throwing it out, this is a good thing to do with it (and the bees worked hard to make it!). We harvested a couple of bars of honey from the hive yesterday, and after draining out the honey, I put the comb (in pieces) in a square of doubled cheesecloth, then put that whole mess into a pot of simmering (not boiling!) water. [Side note: I have now dedicated an old pot and some mason jars for beeswax melting purposes - it’s a mess and you won’t want to use your regular pots for this.] After the beeswax melts into the water, you lift the cheesecloth out, which contains all the debris from the comb (mostly some larvae, sorry baby bees, and some dirt), and throw that out. Leave the pot to cool, and the wax will cool in a sheet on top of the water. After totally cool, lift that disc out and break it into pieces into a mason jar. Refill your pot with clean water and set the mason jar in it, sort of like a double boiler. Simmer the water until the wax in the jar melts. If you’re using storebought wax, you don’t have to do the whole cheesecloth thing - just melt the wax in a jar. It’s already been ‘filtered.’

Meanwhile, drain the medicinal oil, dump the spent plantain in the compost, and reserve the oil.

The oil smells just as it looks, grassy and green.

Put a cup of oil in with the 1/4 cup of melted wax, in the mason jar, which is in the simmering pot. Mix with a bamboo skewer or a stick, something disposable. Then pour into your jars/containers and let it cool before using. Store in a dark place, and it should last years.

I’ll give one of these little containers to Adam to use at work, whenever he gets a burn. I’ll send another to my brother-in-law Peter whose job includes lots of cuts/ouchies. Of course we’ll keep some for our own use, and I’ll let you know how we like it.

Next, I’d like to make some sort of salve for arthritis. Has anyone done something like this before, or do you have lots of knowledge of the medicinal properties of herbs, and can give me a few suggestions on which plants to use? I’m thinking calendula, ginger, turmeric? Something like that. By the way, the website Mountain Rose Herbs has a great tutorial for making salves, if you don’t want to buy a book. This company is where I buy organic vanilla beans for my homemade vanilla extract, and I’m always pleased with their products.

May Arrangement

My weather app is inadequately preparing me each day, or maybe it just can’t keep up: We’ve had temps in the mid-90’s, all the way down to the low-50’s with both intense sun and rain showers. May is increasingly becoming a month in which Anything Goes. But finally, between tests and essays online, and anxious trips to the store for supplies, I was able to dodge the weather and cut some flowers for a May arrangement.

I love this new vase, a perfect mix of art and science! It also really highlights the more fragile blossoms, of which we have many this time of year (summer flowers seem much more sturdy somehow). I knew I wanted to highlight the red Flanders poppies, so called because they flourish in a meadow called Flanders in Belgium. During the Great War, they did not bloom for four years, but after war was over, the poppies began blooming again. They symbolize the hope that seized us all after the war. And I figure, we could use a little hope right now, yes?

Poppies don’t last long in vases, but apparently you can extend it by searing the ends of the stems with a match. I don’t bother, because I appreciate their ephemeral qualities. I’ve combined them with other delicate blooms from the garden - white columbine, purple Foothill penstemon, and fragrant sweet peas.

The garden is very much a riot right now, with all kinds of flowers opening up, vines twining, vegetables starting to produce tiny fruit, and bees everywhere. We’re back to getting 5-6 eggs a day and I am freezing some for the next low-production point. I just crack two at a time into little mason jars and stick them in the freezer. I’ve been cutting and drying herbs like crazy, and my plantain “confit” (as Adam calls it) is about ready to be mixed with melted beeswax and made into a salve. More on that later (first we have to get some beeswax from the hive!). I have a long list of woody plants to prune, now that they’ve finished their spring bloom, and more straw to mound on potatoes, and seeds to sow! I just have to get through finals first.

I’d very much like to hear what’s happening in your gardens. I’ve certainly heard of more crazy weather (i.e. snowstorms) in other areas this spring. How’s your garden looking?

The Broody Hen

In all our years of keeping chickens, we’ve never had a hen go broody, but our Plymouth Barred Rock, Florence has decided it’s time to be a mama. What does this mean? It means she sits on the nest all day and all night, leaving only once a day for some water and a little food. She does this even if there are no eggs underneath her. See how flat her body is? She’s maximizing her body heat for full coverage of the eggs. And when I come to take the eggs out, I have to carry a long flat stick, which I use to block her mouth - she is viciously guarding her eggs and retaliates by pecking my hand, hard. It hurts!

She also fluffs up her tail and neck, hunches down prepared to spring, and makes a low noise in her throat. And check out that evil eye. I talk to her soothingly and tell her she would have been such a good mother, but for some reason that doesn’t stop her from lashing out. As you know, we have no rooster and never will, which means she can sit on her eggs until kingdom come and they still won’t hatch (as they are not fertilized).

When a hen is broody, she doesn’t lay eggs. And another rather unfortunate thing is that it is causing the other hens to stop laying eggs. They have not gone broody, but they are acting decidedly different and we are getting only three eggs per day rather than six. I’m afraid another hen will follow Florence’s example and then we’ll really be in a pickle.

However, I’m of two minds about all this. We use a lot of eggs and we miss having so many, but on the other hand I believe that the hens should live as normal a life as they can in our urban backyard. This means plenty of room to hop, run, bathe and stretch. This means foraging for greens and bugs from the compost pile. This means no artificial lights in the winter (which keeps the birds laying when they are supposed to be having a break from laying). And this also means letting them express their chicken-ness, which is a thing harder to define, and can also be inconvenient. For instance, this past Sunday morning some sort of predator got in the run (I think I saw a hawk fly out of there when I ran out to see what was wrong). I knew there was trouble because the chickens warned me with their extremely loud squawking at 7 a.m. They were SUPER loud and SUPER freaked out, and my shushing didn’t stop them from making a terrible ruckus for at least 30 minutes. I was sure the neighbors were going to confront me, but no one did (I have such great neighbors). This is what chickens DO when they are scared. They huddle, stare, and squawk. It’s just the way it works.

And apparently, another way chickens work is to go broody. There ARE ways to break them of this, and one common one is to take them out of the nesting box and put them in a wire cage for a few days so they cannot nest. I could do this. We have a cage like this. But it just doesn’t feel right to me. I’ve read that chickens stop being broody quite suddenly after 21 days, the amount of time it would have taken to hatch a clutch of eggs. Florence has been broody for about half that time, so we have a good 10-12 days of this yet to go. It’s hard to just let her express her chicken-ness.

Here’s another interesting behavior: When Florence comes down that one time each day to eat and drink, she does the cutest thing. While walking around taking care of her physical needs, she clucks softly and constantly, as though she is herding chicks - albeit chicks that are nonexistent. It’s quite adorable, and completely at odds with the demon who sits on the nest and waits for my tender hand to creep under her to steal her “babies.”

Have any of you dealt with broody hens? What sorts of things have you tried, successfully or un, to break them of the habit? Am I silly for just letting it linger on?

***UPDATE 5/8/20 After reading the comments my readers left, I decided to take some light action. I started taking Florence off the nest regularly. I collected the eggs in an extremely timely manner. I took Florence out of the nest and put her on to the roosting bar at night. I sometimes closed the coop door to keep all the chickens in but Florence - she was alone in the run. I think the game-changing moment came when I took her off the nest one night and put her on the roosting bar and then blocked access to the nesting boxes. That way she had to come down FIRST that next morning instead of going right to the boxes. Also collecting the eggs numerous times a day so that she can’t sit on them, helped a lot. I think we are over the hump and are back to getting 5-6 eggs per day. Thanks to all that commented!!!

Strange Days

What a strange world we are living in at the moment.

In ‘normal’ life, Adam spends every Saturday at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music studying classical voice. He’s done this ever since his voice changed in 7th grade (before that he was a member of the San Francisco Boys Chorus); he has hopped on BART at 8 in the morning and arrived back home by 7 in the evening, one day a week, for this serious study of music. It has enriched his life immeasurably.

Once shelter-in-place began in mid-March, instruction moved online. It’s been interesting watching Adam trying to find a place to sing and study in our small cottage. He spends some of the day in his room, some at the piano, and some outside. In normal times, he and his Conservatory friends would spend lunch at a local restaurant near the school, enjoying interesting cultural food. Now, they all Zoom at lunchtime, each of them in their kitchens making something to eat, laughing and enjoying each other. I must admit it’s been fun to have a little window into his Saturdays. And I love hearing him sing, even though I know it must be hard for him to do it when he knows we can’t help hearing! And his teachers, all world-class musicians, are also really fun to listen to, at least the parts I can hear, with interesting stories and jokes at the ready.

Today, the last Saturday of class (before juries and testing and ‘commencement’), was bittersweet, especially for the seniors. It ended with a Zoom recital in which we got to hear all the kids in the vocal program sing. I must admit it was nice to watch it on Tom’s laptop while we lounged in bed - no trafficky commute into the city, no uncomfortable salon chairs. Afterward there was a little salute to the seniors in the group, and at that point I really missed all being in the same room, congratulating these brilliant young musicians. It made me sad that we will miss all the ‘lasts’ - the last band concert at school, graduation on the field, the senior awards, the last day of high school. Similarly we are missing a bunch of Rin’s events as well. The kids seem to be taking it in stride, but what a strange end to all the hard work of many years. At the same time I am so impressed with the administrators and teachers who figure all this stuff out and make it happen and make the kids feel special.

And then there’s all the ‘firsts’ - with Adam going to Cal Poly in the fall. How???? I mean really, how are they going to manage all of this? I have a bit of an insiders view since Tom is trying to figure all that out for the college where he works. Let me tell you, it’s constant change and constant re-planning, and then planning more than one scenario, and then staying flexible. I can’t tell you how glad I am that I’m not in charge of anything like this. Nothing is concrete.

Last night Tom and I watched a Zoom comedy show featuring a local guy that we like very much named Greg Proops - we had to buy a ticket just like in ‘normal’ times (though way cheaper). Everyone in the audience kept their microphones at a very low volume, so that the performers could hear and respond to the laughter. It worked ok, and it was fun to do something different, but gosh it was strange. I think about the possibility of seeing Broadway shows or Symphony concerts in this way, and I have so many feelings about all of it - awe at the planning, amazement at the technology, and sad that we can’t all be together.

Anyway, the concert today was very nice and took us out of our circumstances for a short while. The whole time Adam was singing we were praying that the chickens wouldn’t start squawking, but they were perfectly behaved. And the neighbors got an unexpected concert. :)

I can’t imagine any of this is going to end anytime soon (at least not in California), so I’ll just have to adjust. Some things already feel completely normal, like wearing a mask. Can you imagine not wearing one at this point? Or can you imagine walking into a cocktail party and hugging everyone?

I’d love to hear about some of the things that you are missing, or experiencing in a new and different way. What milestones are you having to postpone or celebrate differently?