Thursday, December 26, 2013

Merry Christmas!


Yesterday, we all got snowsuited up and headed out 
to the frozen lake to walk on the ice.

  

Mark on the beaver dam


 Making snow angels and trying to shovel down to an ice patch


 
Sink hole of semi-liquid mud I lost both boots in.
I crawled out, wrapped my feet in the bottoms of my snowsuit, and Tim dug out my boots.
A very La Brea Tar Pits Christmas!


 We wish you all a very Merry Christmas
from all of us here on R Farm!



Friday, December 6, 2013

Folly

At times like this, it'd be great to know what I was doing.
Mike Rowe, Dirty Jobs


It's 2:35 a.m. and I've got to agree with Mike, it'd be great to know what I was doing.

Instead, I've been laying awake for an hour and a half pondering the folly of my life.

My van doors, all four of them and the hatchback, have at some point refused to open this last week- deer damage, ice, jammed locks.  It's been The Dukes of Hazard around here- sliding through and climbing over. Unfortunately, I'm not as agile as Bo and Luke nor as mechanical.  Fortunately, at least one door has worked every day and it's been a different one every couple days so everyone's had a chance to slide and climb.  Equal opportunity folly.  How very American.

Then, snow removal on our steep driveway.  Truck with plow starts like a charm on Tuesday thanks to the new fuel line Tim installed with foresight just in time for the first big snowfall.  It snows Wednesday.  A lot.  Deep, heavy, wet snow.  Truck with plow has dead battery at top of insanely steep driveway.  Car with which to jump it at bottom of same.  We shovel hard for an hour, still can't get the car to the truck, and then decide to remove the battery and bring it by hand to the car to charge it, Mohamed-and-mountain style.  Two hours, seven stalls, and a couple ups and downs the driveway by foot later, our driveway is plowed as is the neighbor's we'd promised to help.  And the truck is stalled at the top blocking the driveway.  Doesn't matter much since the driveway is still too slick to drive up reliably anyway.  At that point I hit the wall, start hot cocoa for Tim, soak in an epsom salt bath, and miss how precisely Tim solves this problem, which he does.

Yesterday, Thursday, is picking freezing and the wet heavy snow of Wednesday night is now rock hard ice.  Yet buying club duties call.  Mark slides down the driveway on his new sled while I shuffle like a penguin hoping to stay vertical.  Several hours of work and running around later, I return heavy laden with food, over a hundred pounds, including fresh bananas, raspberries, and greens which will all be ruined if I let them sit in the van and freeze until help comes.  Mark brings me the new sled and like Santa, or like Rudolph really, I load the sled with food and start pulling it up the steep, ice encrusted drive.  Stuff keeps falling off my sled so I climb pulling with one hand while carrying with the other.  Raspberries were the worst since when they fell they scattered all over.  I take my gloves off to pick them up gently, forget to put my gloves on, start pulling with the rope digging into my right hand, most of two flats of red raspberries tucked under my left.  I get to the steepest part which is of course right at the top so I have something to look forward to and I start to loose traction and slip backwards with absolutely no hands to catch myself if I fall.  Anger, pain, anxiety, sweat, chill, and urgent need- I bend low, reposition the rope, pant hard, and slip my way to the top, muttering about folly.

Which is the greater folly?  To build a house in Minnesota on top of an impossible driveway or to buy said house in June without even considering it?  To hope in mechanical, labor-saving devices so much that one winds up laboring harder or to refuse to have the good sense to stay home when it snows or to simply park at the bottom of the driveway and forget plowing and shoveling the whole freaking mess?  

There's plenty of folly to go around this morning. 

In my head I hear, "Gosh, just hire a professional, lady.  Get yourself a snowblower.  Buy some sand and sprinkle it.  Get yourself a decent vehicle, a truck with four-wheel drive.  Heck, get yourself a snowmobile.  Quit whining, already.  You're a Minnesotan, for Pete's sake."  

But is the folly in not anticipating or solving my problems or in the fact that I keep trying so hard to win the unwinnable?

Not a new question.  Here's Solomon on the subject.

 “Meaningless! Meaningless!”
    says the Teacher.
“Utterly meaningless!
    Everything is meaningless.”
 What do people gain from all their labors
    at which they toil under the sun?
Generations come and generations go,
    but the earth remains forever.
The sun rises and the sun sets,
    and hurries back to where it rises. 
 The wind blows to the south
    and turns to the north;
round and round it goes,
    ever returning on its course. 
 All streams flow into the sea,
    yet the sea is never full.
To the place the streams come from,
    there they return again. 
 All things are wearisome,
    more than one can say.
The eye never has enough of seeing,
    nor the ear its fill of hearing. 
 What has been will be again,
    what has been done will be done again;
    there is nothing new under the sun.
 Is there anything of which one can say,
    “Look! This is something new”?
It was here already, long ago;
    it was here before our time. 
 No one remembers the former generations,
    and even those yet to come
will not be remembered
    by those who follow them.

A person can do nothing better than to eat and drink 
and find satisfaction in their own toil. 
This too, I see, is from the hand of God,   
for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment?   
To the person who pleases him, 
God gives wisdom, knowledge and happiness, 
but to the sinner he gives the task of 
gathering and storing up wealth to hand it over 
to the one who pleases God. 
This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.


Ah, a little Ecclesiastes in the morning does a woman good.  It's not just me and it's not just vans and driveways and snow.  It's life and the nature of being human. 

Despite the fact my problems just got more universal and less solvable, I feel better in a perverse way.    

And his advice makes me feel better, too.  I ate a good dinner of La Finca chili and Kutney pork, watched MacGyver with Anjali, shot Nerf guns with Mark, ate raspberries, and laughed at myself in my blog.  According to the wisest guy ever, that's as good as it gets and means God is pleased with me.  Who am I to argue?


Adventures in generosity

On Saturday, November 23, I hit a deer.
 
This could be a sad story of meaningless death and destruction and $2600 in auto body repairs.
But it's not.

I had a car full of kids on their way home from Mark's birthday party.  After determining that no one was hurt except the deer, Jeannie exclaimed, "I've always wanted to be in a car when it hit a deer!"  Her youthful enthusiasm in experiencing the power her older relatives have in deer hunting lifted my spirits and gave me courage.

I decided that now that the damage was done, I may as well take the deer.  I dropped the kids off, bought some trash bags, laid them out in the back of the van, and drove back to the deer.  

I couldn't budge her.  Not an inch.  A nice man stopped by to see if I needed help but we both had bad backs, so I thanked him for his kindness in stopping, drove home, and called my brother.

Dan informed me that I had 2 hours from death to get it gutted or lose the meat.  That left me with 50 minutes on the clock, not enough time for him to get to me.

I called my neighbor, Mark, who has a truck.  He said he'd help.  

I called the Tollefsons and between them, they knew how to gut a deer and they had the equipment to hang it up, too.  They also sent Kiernan to help haul the deer into the truck.

We found the deer with 35 minutes to go.  The guys heaved it into the truck in a jiffy, we drove home, and Sandi and Tom got busy gutting- all in the dark on the coldest, windiest night so far this season.  They all left it hanging in my deep-freeze garage in time and took off to do the shopping they'd all been leaving for when I called.

God bless good neighbors!

Next- van repair.
Headlight and turn signal out.  Passenger side door won't open because of bent fender.

The pros recommended $2600 in body work- darn plastic vehicles!  Van's not worth that much which is why we took the collision insurance off it this fall. 

Tim bent the fender back with a hammer claw so I could get the door open.  Yeah, Tim!

I called Lindstrom Motors to ask about a replacement light and a field expedient repair.  Kevin inspected for internal damage and didn't find any leaks.  He drilled two holes and zip tied the bumper back on.  They're hunting for a used headlight assembly but in the meantime, he installed a tiny orange turn signal bulb to keep me legal.  All for free the day after Thanksgiving.  So kind.

Even if the assembly turns out to be $600, we're still $2000 and a lot of kindness ahead here.  I figure $12/pound for venison is a lot better than $40- yikes!  

Ah, yes, the venison.  Since I don't actually know anything about how to process deer, I debated having it professionally done for $100+.  Until the repair bill hit me.  Then, I decided to ask my friend from church, Sean, to help me.  He came over with his dad and all the tools, removed the hide, sawed the carcass into pieces, disposed of all the leftover bits, and took the meat and bones home to defrost and process in his heated garage, all the while joking and dispensing knowledge such as the best place to get the meat ground into sausage. 
 
And finally, my Sunday School class.  I walked into class late the day after I hit the deer.  Dave, the leader, announced, "Here's Amy the Deer Slayer!''  And the whole class burst into cheers and applause.  


Anything, everything, little or big,
becomes an adventure when the 
right person shares it.
--Kathleen Norris


This could be a sad story of meaningless death and destruction and $2600 in auto body repairs.

But it's not.

It's the story of brave, kind, generous, knowledgeable people- an elementary school girl, the Good Samaritan, men and women, teen-age boys- who made my story into an adventure. 

This kind of generosity can't go unanswered.  

Venison anyone?  It's organic, free-range, and corn fed- very tasty.
I hope you like it.  I killed it myself.


Sunday, December 1, 2013

Monday, November 18, 2013

With a little help from our friends


One dark night


our greenhouse walked to its winter home


with help from 
my brother, Dan, 
and the Tollefsons- Aidan, Keirnan, and Tom.

Many thanks to our friends!



Squash


We've got a lot of squash around here. 


Some we even grew ourselves.

Everybody's eating squash- 
people, chickens, and even Abbi the cat.



Saturday, November 16, 2013

My kill

In keeping with the spirit of firearms hunting season, 
I killed a deer.





Unfortunately, it was my neighbor's 
hand-painted deer statue 
which I knocked over 
while backing my car out of their driveway.





Fortunately, they forgave me.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Too

This bowl of porridge is too hot.
This bowl of porridge is too cold.
This bowl of porridge is just right.
--Goldilocks




Why, i' faith, methinks she’s too low for a high praise, 
too brown for a fair praise, 
and too little for a great praise. 
Only this commendation I can afford her, 
that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome, 
and being no other but as she is, I do not like her.
--Benedick, Much Ado About Nothing




Oh everything comes in its own special size
I guess it can be measured by where you put your eyes
It looks big when you're close
And it looks smaller back a bit
That's about the size of it.

Oh the big becomes the little
When you see it back a bit
The huge becomes the dinky
Which is just the opposite
Of the larger that gets smaller
It never seems to fit
That's about the size of it.

That the big becomes the little
That's the way it seems to go
That they make up a larger thing
Is something good to know
It's nice to know that though we're small
There's always room to grow
And that's about the size of it.

That's about the size
It's where you put your eyes
That's about the size of it.
--Sesame Street's "That's About the Size of It"

In general, we get three basic responses to R Farm- too big, too little, and just right.  
For those most impacted by the negative consequences of our choices- rooster noises, free-range poultry, fallen trees- we are too big.  We respect that they didn't choose to farm so we are working to try to minimize our intrusions into their lives while still accomplishing our goals, which is no easy task on any given day.

For those with the most farming experience our 6 acres and dreams of knee-high goats are too small.  Several farmers with tractors and serious livestock have given me this dimpled smile with twinkling eyes when I talk about getting Nigerians.  It's not a demeaning look but rather an indulgent one, maybe even a whimsically fond one, like a parent watching their kid.  Given that most 5th grade 4H-ers know more than I do about farming, I've decided that I'm okay with bemused.  I do hope someday to wow them with Nigerian goat milk caramel or something impressive so I can join the 'real' farmer club.  Not likely.  Maybe someday I'll work up to livestock that weighs more than I do, but I'm a novice and for now, I tell them, I'm sticking to livestock I can load into a dog kennel in the back of my mini-van. 

For those who also long for a farm of their own- urban dwellers with dreams of space and quiet, aspiring homesteaders, expatriate rural kids all grown up and working their opportunities in the city- we are just right.  They come to garden, visit, hunt, and play.  They ooooh and aaaah over our eggs, pick apples for the chickens, chainsaw, walk through the woods, eat some homegrown food, laugh at our escapades, and remind us why we are here trying to keep our balance between too big and too little and find our just right.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

My garlic muse

I completely ran out of initiative, creativity, and gardening energy with my new raised bed of perennials still to finish.  
I simply couldn't do one more unfamiliar farming task alone.
 
Garlic, multiplier onions, walking onions, chives, garlic chives, perennial and self-seeding herbs- 
all waiting and the fall clock ticking.

So I called my neighbor Heidi who knows gardening 
and she and Eva came over last weekend.  
Eva played with Mark and Anjali 
while Heidi dug and planted bulbs, 
Tim trimmed weeds and hauled supplies, 
and I read instructions, separated bulbs and roots, 
and scattered seeds. 

By the time Eva needed her mom, the momentum had shifted and Tim and I were able to finish the project quickly.


Thanks Heidi for being my garlic muse!


Thursday, November 7, 2013

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Spaciousness and security

Saturday at the Minnesota Dairy Goat Association conference, I was listening to women who farm larger properties than I do and the beauty of spaciousness swept over me and I could for the first time understand their desire for it. 

As a suburbanite and then a city girl, I often felt vulnerable and exposed on the large open farm properties we visited while looking for our new home.  Not being able to see our neighbors in the summer felt isolating after the endless togetherness of the Cities and I took comfort last fall when the leaves fell and I could see neighbors' houses.  I felt less alone in the big world.

Sometimes I still find comfort in seeing their lights in the dark and I'm sure I'll look out over snow and be glad that help is a short walk away.

Yet, the pleasure I take from open spaces has grown into a longing for more land.  Well, perhaps not more land precisely but the spaciousness those women spoke about, the elbow room, the ability to do their thing without having to signal first.

I can see more clearly now how this desire for spaciousness, this leaning into open spaces formed us as a country.  Liberty.  Freedom.  Self-determination.  The land made us.

But lest I bask too long in the rosy glow, these same women also spent hours addressing their security concerns in a seminar on livestock guardian dogs.  They felt the vulnerability, too, and took significant, costly steps to protect their livestock, their property, and their family.  

I recently visited Bernice's farm in Iowa, a 100+ acre farm she referred to deprecatingly as 'just a small homestead' as we drove around it in her golf cart.  (Apparently small farm means something quite different than I had previously believed.)  She spoke about the last flood which closed the road, isolating them on their property for several days.  She spoke about raising her kids and farming while her husband worked off-farm for decades.  She introduced me to her dogs, all seven of them, which had been my purpose in the visit.  One lives in the house with her and the others are on rotating duty 24 hours/day.  Before she could let one particular male out of his kennel she asked me to get into the golf cart because he was known to nip strangers' heels to urge them off his property.  In answer to my unspoken question, she explained that he was particularly good at nighttime border patrol duty when no stranger, human or animal, was welcome.  We talked about my longing to feel safe and rather than poo-poo me as a skittish city slicker, she affirmed the prudence of my concerns and proposed preparedness and a dog as viable solutions.

Listening to these strong capable farming women talk about their fears and then how they take action in response has been empowering.  I thought it was just me being paranoid.  But these women aren't paranoid; they're powerful. 


Perhaps I need greater security in order to choose more spaciousness in my life. 

I'm not exactly sure what this means for us.

It's not just about space.  All farms have borders and all farmers have neighbors.  Even the women with large acreage tell stories about their neighbor issues. Our conflicts over wandering poultry, irritating sounds, and bad odors are minor compared to the twisted, dangerous neighbor tales I've heard.

It's not just about dogs.  We've tried the dog thing and we haven't been successful at it to date.  I wish I had a better security idea than dogs.  A quieter, easier, cheaper, equally reliable one.  But thus far, I don't.  And after all these women-and-dogs stories, I'm wondering if trying again would be persistent or foolish.  Maybe both. 

It's not just about making perfect choices either.  

It's about taking action in response to fear, threat, and danger. 

My action this morning is reflecting.  Hopefully, this will lead to some more best guess actions in good time.

Hopefully.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

We survived the crash of 2013


At first I heard a pan drop, 
then glass shattering, 
then pottery breaking-
BANG!
 
 

When I came out I found this.


I immediately put on shoes and Mom looked hypnotized.  
I swept and swept and swept.
Then I noticed some pottery hanging by a thread in the cupboard.
 So I got on a stool and oh so very carefully picked out the pieces of pottery.


Then I noticed that one side of the cupboard was open 
and the other wasn't.
So I very carefully took out the remaining half of the bowls 
and cups.



The people who built this house put the screw about an 1/16th of an inch away from the stud accidentally.
 Dad put the cupboard back up and screwed it into the wall-
oh, did he screw it in well!




Things are back to normal and last week we got new pottery from Powderhorn Empty Bowls at Powderhorn Park in Minneapolis.

By Guest Blogger: Anjali

First sledding day



This morning- frost!

Not wasting a minute

of the much-anticipated

long-awaited

first day of sledding

 the kids slide down the ramp

and then hit me with a 'snowball' made of frost shavings.
 

Let the sledding begin!

Pooped

I'm pooped.
Tuckered out.
Mentally exhausted.
Flat out of initiative to try new things.
Saturated with adventure.

I have never been so glad to see winter coming.
Seriously.
Being a beginning farmer, even on a small scale, is taxing.

I will also add that I have never been more impressed with farmers or more grateful for food.  These people work hard and smart and unrelentingly.  Impressive.
 
When Tim brought home my fall CSA share from La Finca Farm, I cheered.  It was like a reunion with old friends I hadn't seen for a long time- potatoes, squash, arugula, leeks.  And I didn't have to do a single thing but cook and eat them.  Man, what a deal!

Anjali introduced me to Dirty Jobs on Netflix and I've been watching episode after episode, laughing as he's covered in poo or slime or grease.  I keep saying, "I'm glad that's not my job!" while his adventures and misadventures in trying new dirty jobs every week help me to get perspective on my own.  When people normalize their jobs removing slime from eels or harvesting alligator eggs while Mama Gator lurks nearby or blowing up walls of salt hundreds of feet underground he makes this 'yeah, right' eye roll which suits me exactly when I'm doing one more crazy thing I never imagined doing which somehow has become my life.  Yesterday it was chasing a duck (chasing, not catching) with a neighbor so that between us we could figure out how to trim the feathers so it couldn't fly. 

It's been a long journey from Minneapolis to completing our first year here. Some laughing, some good food, some time with old friends, some quiet snow days, and I'll be ready for more adventure.  
 I'm so very glad this is my life and my job.
 


Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Look what the mom dragged in

Last Wednesday, a little cat followed me home.  My neighbor Debbie and Anjali loaded her in a kennel for safe keeping.


She'd followed Sandi, Kifah, and I on Monday and had slept on Kifah's porch on Tuesday night so we were fairly confident she was a stray.  She followed me a second day and faced with that trust, I had to help.


No room at the humane society so we took her to the vet where no chip + no spay = stray.  Inspired by Diane, the wonderful lady who rescued and cared for our first cat, Zed, we got the little sweetie shots and medication for her ear infection.  We were now $160 in to a free cat with another $160+ to go for spaying and booster shots for a third cat we didn't need and couldn't afford. 



Zed was our first cat since being rescued by Diane on Halloween 2012.  He's converted us into cat appreciators.  He's very sweet and a good mouser but was unhappy here- crying and scratching at the door to come in.  I thought he needed a friend.

 
 Zed
I had asked Diane to keep her eyes peeled for another stray for me this summer but the only one she found had leukemia and had to be an inside cat.  So I went to the shelter and got Abbi, a former cat colony member who loves her life here.  Unfortunately Zed was less content sharing his garage, his people, and his farm with an intruder. 

 
 Abbi

When the third cat followed me, I thought maybe it was divine providence.  Tim, less prone to mystical rationale for the appearance of 'free' cats, urged moderation.  I slept on it and upon hearing Zed mewing pitifully outside the next morning, realized the solution.  Zed didn't need a cat companion- he needed an inside home.




On Thursday Zed will be going to live at my counselor's office, House of Hope in St Croix Falls, WI, as her indoor-outdoor cat.  We can see him every time we visit which is the kids' dream while he mouses and purrs which is Karen's dream and gets to live the good life which is his dream!


 The third cat

And in one of those fairy tale endings, I am delighted to say that last Saturday, the third cat visited our neighbor's house, the dad fell in love with her, but she wandered away and he couldn't find her until Sunday when they came to a block party at our house and were reunited!  Yesterday, she went to live at their house as their third cat.  She's right next door and can wander over to see Mark or Abbi anytime.  Maybe her name should be Cinderella.


I feel like the Cat Fairy getting to participate in all this happiness.  And Tim is happy to be back to one cat- Abbi, who likes her life here, does her job efficiently and quietly, and eats the food I serve with great gusto.

 Abbi on patrol

Zed has more personality and the third cat is cuter but Happy Abbi is our cat.


After telling this tale at the party and listening to other people's 'free' animal stories (like the $500 'free' German shepherd puppies) I have learned a couple things.

Lessons Learned
One, sometimes it takes a hypothesis or two, a failure or two, some time and cash, and some goofing around to figure out what the problem is and how to fix it.  Zed wasn't lonely- he was unhappy.  The third cat didn't magically appear for us- it was for our neighbors.  Working drafts and learning curves and casting bread upon the water are all part of the eventual solution.

Two, 'free' animals are never free.  And it is easy to allow the 'free' aspect of the animal to trump the 'good fit' aspect.  The cat I intentionally sought out and which Mark chose is the best fit although I never would have gotten to that cat if not for the grace of the first one.  I will both count the cost and be open to grace next time.  


Three, it takes me about three of something- chicken coops, kinds of poultry, cats- to compare and contrast so I can make good choices. 

Four, it is much, much more fun to err on the side of compassion and kindness and get to be a Cat Fairy than it is to refuse mercy and leave the cat on the side of the road.  And as Tim so wisely points out, mercy can mean getting the cat to a shelter and doesn't have to mean adopting it myself or paying $160+ per 'free' cat.  



I am even more grateful to Diane for getting Zed started for us and for getting us started with cats.  It is a great honor to be part of the joy of paying it forward.

I may never get to be the Cat Fairy like this again which makes this magical fairy tale all the sweeter.
 
It is a great day to be a cat and an ever greater day to be a Cat Fairy!

Saturday, October 5, 2013

Working on the sabbath

I'm working on taking Sundays off and resting- reading novels, visiting with friends, sitting on the couch- that kind of stuff.

Just how hard I'm working at not working is laughable.

"Is it more restful to leave the wet clothes in the washing machine 'til Monday when I'll have to redo them or start down the slippery slope of laundry?"

"Does making my family's favorite breakfast count as resting?"

"If my friend stops by and chats with me while harvesting vegetables from my garden, can I blanch and freeze them quick or does that negate my rest?"

These all seem silly when I write them down but they are true just in the last 4 weeks since I started trying to take Sundays 'off.'

I grew up being told that I must eat my dinner before having dessert and finish my homework before playing and pick up my room before watching tv.  All good and reasonable advice until the work never finishes and I never sit on my couches.  Or when I do, I feel guilty.  I have never had to grapple so up close and personal with the challenges of choosing to rest.  

My thoughts turn to the writings of the people I'm most familiar with who've grappled with these questions: the Israelites and the Ten Commandments.

12 “Observe the Sabbath day by keeping it holy, as the Lord your God has commanded you. 13 Six days you shall labor and do all your work, 14 but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your male or female servant, nor your ox, your donkey or any of your animals, nor any foreigner residing in your towns, so that your male and female servants may rest, as you do. 15 Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the Lord your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Therefore the Lord your God has commanded you to observe the Sabbath day.  --Deuteronomy 5


“Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, 10 but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your male or female servant, nor your animals, nor any foreigner residing in your towns. 11 For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.  --Exodus 20
 
I used to think about obeying the Ten Commandments.
Now I am being inspired and challenged by them to live as a free woman and an imitator of God.

Slaves are compelled to work and don't get to enjoy the fruits of their labor. They work until they collapse.

Free beings like God work hard and well and then celebrate and enjoy their creation.

I've got a long way to go until ease and peace and celebration in the midst of my labors becomes a habit.  But I'm taking steps.  Good books.  Time with friends.  Simple meals.  Sitting on the couch.  Popping popcorn and watching movies.  Blogging to remember. 

I'm leaning into the blessing of a sabbath.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Homesteading Map

It's fall, school's starting, and I'm a teacher and a student at heart.
I no longer get the new wardrobe, backpack, and folders every year like I used to but I did get myself some new pens in fancy colors.

Imagine my delight when I found this homestead syllabus.  The blog with it is so kind and true.

This list has really encouraged me.  There is so much work left to do and so much we've already done.  

Thanks Chris Dalziel for sharing your expertise!

Step by step to homestead success

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Squirrels

Mark and Tim collected bitternuts growing wild by our propane tank for the chickens this winter.  Mark said, "We're squirrels!"
Just so.

From what I read, our chickens will have to be seriously hungry to eat them, but free is in our budget to try.
Butternuts, their tastier cousins, will join our nut grove next year.


Kifah harvested in her garden today and brought us greens- mustard and kale which Anjali and I whacked each other with before blanching and freezing.  

Food fights?  Anjali is setting me a good example.



Then Kifah taught me that heirloom tomatoes harvested green will ripen while those left on the vine will freeze.  So we gathered two boxes full for people and another box full of imperfect ones for chickens.



I figure that even tomato seconds will be a boon to poultry in January.  Again, a no cost experiment.





Speaking of chickens, here are some gratuitous chicken pix.
 
"Brownie is a nice chicken.  He doesn't peck a lot and he crows a lot.  I hope that next spring that he will be a nice dad and protect the chicks." --Mark


" 'Come on, follow me!  I will be the goodest chicken.'  This is Regal's commercial to the girls."  --Mark 

The aforementioned 'girls' 
checkin' 'em out.

As a novice squirrel, here are some of the books I've checked out from the library at least twice:

  • Root Cellaring, Natural Cold Storage of Fruits and Vegetables, Bubel
  • Preserving Summer's Bounty, Rodale
  • Minnesota's Bounty The Farmers Market Cookbook, Dooley
  • Build Your Own Underground Root Cellar, Hobson
  • Recipes from the Root Cellar, Chesman