Hello out there!

It's been a busy fall as demonstrated by my lack of posts in almost two months.

Needed to get over the hurdle of this first return post transition.

I'll be back, I promise.

--Amy

Hard Water Hair Fixes

Add to the seemingly unending list of "Things Amy Didn't Know about Country Life" that hard water minerals can build up and cause hair to darken, mat, tangle, feel stiff, brittle, and/or greasy.  

In a series of serendipitous interactions including a well-informed teenager, I learned that the same shampoo we had used after swimming to remove chlorine also works remarkably well to remove other hard water minerals. 

Holy smokes!  After a couple uses of the Malibu shampoo and conditioner, Anjali's hair lightened several shades and mine is the softest it's been in many, many years.  

Now, it's only Malibu for us.

200 Milkings

We have now milked goats 200 times, 

using up an entire container of filters.

Last week, I went to bed saying, 

"Only 8 1/2 hours until I have to milk again."

Like that "It's time to make the donuts" guy.

 

"Is it worth it?" a friend asked yesterday 

when I had to leave early to go home and milk.

Well...

After thinking about it for 5 minutes, I decided yes.

First, I'm learning a lot.

Especially stuff like consistency which doesn't come easily to me.

Second, the milk is like nothing I've ever eaten.  

Rich, creamy yogurt. 

Tangy chevre cheese with whey leftover for delighted chickens.

Raw cultured buttermilk.

The thought of eating runny yogurt from a plastic tub

and going without whey

and missing all that 9% butterfat...

I get sad just thinking about it.

I can't wait until I have enough milk to try cajeta- 

Mexican goat caramel- 

yummy goat milk dreams.

Third, tending livestock has this Zen quality.

When I have time and am not feeling rushed or stupid,

I find myself sinking into peacefulness.

There is something absolutely delightful about 

watching a goat browse, 

chewing with gusto and this happy grin on her face.

Keeps me grounded.

In honor of 200 milkings,

I offer these jokes made while making cheese.

Anjali: Mom, that is udderpropriate.

Amy:  No whey.

Anjali: Whey!

 

County Fair

Both Anjali and Mark brought projects to the Chisago County Fair July 16-20.

Mark brought a quilt he made at a 4H work day

along with a Brownie is My Friend poster.

He also brought a recipe and photo instructions for Mark's Instant Maple Oatmeal Packs.

He did a demonstration of chicken calls and their meanings which got the audience smiling.
Here he is with the Cloverbud (K-3) judge.

Anjali submitted three fleece tie blankets on the table for judging.

She submitted a hat she loom knitted and two photos.

Her presentation on A Kernel of Truth about Corn Syrup won her a trip to the State Fair in August.

We are very proud.
We are also grateful to Janelle, Anjali's 4H mentor, and Kristen, Mark's mentor along with the many judges and other 4H leaders.  Such a kind and accomplished bunch.

Comments from Clueless

This morning as I was diddling with my blog, I saw I had a comment on the blog about the beaver chopping down our cherry trees.  A limerick comment, no less, with good meter and rhyme and a number of accurate facts. 

Here's Clueless' comment:

Clueless said...

Sorry to hear of the setbacks. A lesson might be that to wage war on the environment is not a task to be taken without understanding the resilience of Mother Nature. A productive relationship with the earth begins with listening, and involves more giving than taking. In that spirit, I give back your limericks:

Attitude adjustment revisited

There once was a large rodent who gnawed
fruit trees of the agriculturally flawed.
For clear cutting its food
in a manner so rude,
beaver’s revenge shocked and awed.


There once was a rooster who crowed
all day long to protect its abode.
But with hen and chicks eaten
this loud cock was beaten,
I guess he’s just a bothersome load.


Agriculturally zoned may sound good
but we can see it’s a nice neighborhood.
Residential’s the class,
what a kick in the ***!
And a shame for once beautiful woods. 

Passionate, principled people can see the same facts and arrive at very different conclusions as Clueless and I have.

I was reminded of Teddy Roosevelt's words:

...to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly....

Nothing in my life has taken me on a greater adventure or made me feel more alive than farming.  Failures and all.  Disagreements and all.

Even still, maybe we're wrong.  I sure hope not.  I believe not.  But possibly we are.  We're doing the best we know and yet we may be wrong.  The racoons may eat the chickens and the beavers may chop down the fruit trees and maybe we deserve it.  Maybe Mother Nature is kicking our ass for just cause.  

I was reminded of Abraham Lincoln's words about the Civil War.

Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether."	3
With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.

 

Pray for us, friends, that both Clueless and I will be firm in the right as God gives us to see the right, striving to finish the work we are in, binding up wounds, and doing all which may achieve a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with everyone.

 

Pray for me that when I am wrong- whenever and however I am wrong- that God in severe mercy will kick my ass right.

And especially pray that in all times we experience grace- unmerited blessing and goodness- so real that we breathe it.

Amen.

Building a dome

Last weekend, Gramma Reisdorf, Anjali, Mark, and Tim built a dome shelter for the goats.

Tim got instructions and connectors from Ziptie Domes.  

 

Cover with a tarp and we've got this winter's goat shelter.

The Five

Tim calls them The Remnant.

 

We bought their mother- a broodie bantam Phoenix- and all ten chicks a few weeks back on our chicken date.  She was an excellent mother and didn't lose a single one for two weeks.

Until the night she didn't come back at dusk, choosing to roost outside instead.  In the middle of the night she set up such a ruckus I knew she'd attract every predator for a quarter mile.  I went out and opened the door to let them in.  But the sound had carried from her far-flung location and she wasn't there.  I went back to bed.  At 4:20 we awoke to screams and Tim went running out.  It was too dark to see anything.  Then quiet.

We watched for Phoenix all day, hoping.  Five chicks returned to the greenhouse but the other five and Mama never did.

I figured The Remnant wouldn't last a day without their mom.
But contrary to all expectation, more than two weeks later, The Five are thriving.  They stayed in the greenhouse, then immediately around it, slowly expanding their range, mingling with the established flock.  They check themselves in each night with a little assist from Anjali and they forage like pros.  The protection their mother afforded them from the others in the flock has carried over and they are not threatened by the adults.

I've been afraid to name them or write about them or photograph them for fear of jinxing it.
Well, for fear of getting my hopes up again, honestly.

But I'm beginning to suspect that they are going to make it.

Counting my chickens

I have an accidental retrospective piece here today.  I could have sworn I posted it in July 2014 but no. 

I have committed one of the classic new farmer blunders.
It's so classic, in fact, that it has it's own cliche.

I counted my chickens before they hatched.  

Three broodie hens times let's say 10 babies each...
The broodies were sitting and we were hatching plans about how to house 30 babies.

The hatching started- three chicks- then more than a dozen were in the process of hatching!
"Isn't it particularly satisfying to have babies on R Farm again?"

The next morning we started to find the dead chicks.
Dead in the shell.  Dead on the floor of the coop.  

When I saw broodies pecking other hens' babies, we kicked them out of the coop.  Picking up dead and dying chicks, I was so furious, I told Tim to get me an axe because no baby killers were going to live on my farm.  He said, "There's been enough death."  And I let them live but secretly hoped they'd get eaten by the raccoon.  Grrr.

We borrowed a neighbor's incubator and put 15 eggs in there, hoping.  One which was in the process of hatching we returned to the broodie and later found that chick dead in its shell.
 
A day later of the 15 who hatched 4 were alive, including Lazarus, the chick we thought was dead but had only been sleeping.

Lazarus was never well and he hung on for three more days.  I felt I should put him out of his misery but I was hoping for a miracle.  Maybe he'd defy the odds and make it.  He struggled so much that I couldn't bear to watch or take photos.  And then, one morning, he didn't come for breakfast.

New life.
Violent and meaningless death.

Tough couple weeks on the farm.


Since summer and the heat of passion, we've reflected on this experience and intend to separately fence broodies this year.

Only two chicks made it to the end of summer.  The rooster we gave away and the other we kept.  We are not sure whether it blended in with the other white hens we got this fall or whether it fell to a predator.  Their mother was excellent and one we hope will brood again this spring. 

Chick-lings!

Last year we had ducklings and since then we've all been anticipating chicks, especially Mark who's been so excited for Brownie to have chick-lings.

After much brooding and waiting, we are pleased to announce 

the chick-lings are hatching!

Plan B

In the orchard, Tim recently found this

where his cherry tree had been

 along with a drag path all the way down the hill to the water.

 George Washington and his trusty little hatchet 

came briefly to mind.

But no.  

The trail to the water makes us suspect the beavers

which live in the pond just down the seasonal waterway from us.

Deer attempting to munch our fruit trees we anticipated

hence the deer netting.

Didn't see the beavers coming.

Between the beaver and the extreme winter,

Tim's lost all his apple and pear and most of his cherry trees.

We did replant two new cherry trees which we promptly enclosed in short metal fences,

hoping to at least make the beaver work for his lunch, 

thereby increasing his skill level and problem-solving experience, creating a super-herbivore, 

like those antibiotic-resistant super germs.

The fenced trees are still there so far

but a Nanking cherry bush went missing last week.

So we're planning on fencing all remaining trees and bushes individually with metal fence, seeing if it works 'til next spring, and if it does replanting more stuff.

I'm embarrassed to have been outwitted by an herbivore.

I'm very determined to win.

 And I'm really, really grateful that 

unlike the pioneers 150 years ago, 

I can definitely replace these trees 

and my family won't suffer hunger 

while I get my act together for

Plan B for Beaver.

R Popcorn

The first popcorn harvested on R Farm

saved from last fall for a special day

popped this week after a good day's work.

Field trip

Today Mama Phoenix took her chicks 

outside the greenhouse for the first time.

 One went surfing on mom's back.

 We're glad they're here.

In Memorium to Mama and five babies who died in a predator attack on Thursday morning. 
The five survivors are doing well.

Post hole digger

On a hot, muggy, super buggy day, 

Tim and Mark M prepare to dig a post hole

demonstrating the unwritten rule that the hardest jobs 

must be done in the worst conditions.

Down and up, down and up- 

a couple minutes to bore through loam and clay.

Another good, deep hole.

Got to love a man with power tools!

Thanks to the good folks of Adolfson and Peterson Construction for loaning Tim the auger 

and to Mark M for helping on such a lousy day.

Tim's Honeyberries

After a long, hard spring, Tim harvested 

R Farm's first honeyberries.

So yummy and hardy to Zone 2.  

Way to go Tim!

Lawn and field envy

Woman: You must be very happy.
Nelson Mandela: Any man would be happy dancing with a beautiful lady like you.
Woman: Mr. President, you’re exaggerating.
Nelson Mandela: Not at all. My father was Xhosa, so he was a polygamist. As you know, I am not. But when I look at you, I envy my father.

-Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela, Invictus

Is there anything more beautiful than a well-mown lawn or a freshly plowed field?

So orderly.  

So rhythmical. 

So fresh and tidy and definitive.

I don't mow or till but when I walk or drive by my neighbors', I envy them. 

If I did permaculture and mowed and tilled, too- would that make me a polyagamist?

Work is love made visible

The title quote is the epigraph in Women of the West by Luchetti and Olwell and the quote faces this photo.

Her yard is a shambles and she's currently living in a hole in the ground.

While that's true it is also not true.

She's not living in a hole in the ground; she's living in a place she and her family have built for themselves with their own hands.

This woman has pride in her home and hope in her dream.

Until recently, all I could see was the squalor. 

Look at the folks on the top left, arrayed in the deep mud, surrounded by their animals and guns and children.

Look at the folks on the bottom right and notice their livestock grazing on top of their sod roof.  They are posed in their Sunday best- clean aprons and combed hair, fancy hats and rocking horses.
  
These are people showing off their work in progress.

Their work.
Their farm.
Their home.

Until recently, all I could see was the squalor.
But not anymore.

Now I can see the love.