The summer is drawing to a close, much as anyone here hates to admit it. And with the end of summer begins one huge process...culling the herd. Thankfully, in families, we don't often look at the children and think,"Okay, which of you has to go?"...well, maybe sometimes...However, when we look at it from the farming standpoint, we are looking at (brutal honesty) finances and food. What can we afford over winter, and what do we need to survive.
Occasionally there's the animal that has a personality we just can't part with (check out Intellectual Agrarian about Chickens), but on the general whole, we are pretty balanced in deciding who will stay and who will go.
To make the fun even fun-er, there's also the task of finding another home for the ones we can't bring ourselves to eat, or finding a butcher for the ones we can't wait to eat.
Did you know that poultry processors don't usually process waterfowl? This means, if you go duck hunting...first find a butcher to take your dead ducks to, or do it yourself.
The Wife had purchased the ducks in hopes for duck eggs for the children allergic to chicken eggs...and it just makes sense that out of the five ducks she purchased from the local farm store-only one of them is female, and refuses to lay an egg with four males constantly at her side. Really, it's okay because we will eat duck. The Farmer's Daughter, however, isn't going to be around for butchering. Which leaves the butchering to the HausFrau and DIY Farmer's Daughters. You aren't missing it, they aren't jumping for joy.
Looking at the large animal livestock...culling is always harder. First there is more than a dozen weeks involved in raising them. Secondly, there is the shear size of the animal. We have goats and cow that have big brown knowing eyes. We have a hard time looking into those eyes and thinking that those will be the tacos of tomorrow. Often we just re-home in exchange for goods or services. And, it's easy to say, "Let's butcher a six pound bird." Much harder to say, "Let's butcher a 300lb cow."
Regardless of how it happens, this season of culling has to happen. Three acres simply cannot sustain a large livestock community.
And so, we begin the process of culling the herd.
Showing posts with label winter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label winter. Show all posts
Sunday, August 5, 2018
Thursday, May 3, 2018
April Snows Bring May Flowers
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| April 9,2018 Photo credit: Liane Layhew no filters,iphone 6 |
And the day came when one bloomed! And the Wife envisioned fourteen, at least, cheerful yellow blossoms greeting every passer-by. What the wife did not foresee was the three year old Farmer's Daughter...also knows as "The Ninny-nator". Destroyer of makeup bags, ruin-er of rising bread loaves, picker of flowers...The Ninny-nator.
And the first beautiful yellow daffodil bloomed, the Wife took a picture! And The Ninny-nator Farmer's Daughter picked it. Running behind the Wife and smiling grandly, she showed it to everyone. Everyone-crestfallen-said, "No, Ninny. No picking the pretty yellow flowers."
And the next day a new daffodil bloomed in a different location. And the family cheered! And we reminded the Ninny-nator NOT to pick the flower. And she nodded her head in agreement. And at about two o'clock in the afternoon-she picked it. And the Wife was sad. She saw a death to her vision. There would be one flower a day. One flower...and if a passer-by was there at just the right time, and looked in just the right place, providentially the passer-by would see one lovely, coveted, happy yellow daffodil. That was the reality. And the Wife sighed-she took the flower from the Ninny-nator, gave her a lecture, but knew the war was lost. If it wasn't a Ninny-nator who would pick the daffodils...it would be someone or something else.
Flower #3 met it's demise to a Frisbee. Flowers #4 and #5 to the windstorm. Flower #6 to the dogs. Flower #8 went MIA. Flower #9 was too close to home plate in our family kickball game. Flower #10 was under the child climbing the magnolia tree. The tulip hasn't bloomed. We think it has seen the fate of those who went before, and has retreated back underground.
Someday...someday you will drive past our little patch of heaven here out west...and you will be delighted with a field of happy yellow daffodils in spring. Someday...
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| Daffodil Flower #1, April 25, 2018 Photo credit: Liane Layhew no filters, iphone 6 |
Friday, March 4, 2016
Dear Farmer is Inside Too Long
The snow returned for it's last few appearances before spring. It throws the whole family into a "tizzy". First of all, we can no longer find half the gloves. Secondly, no one is really excited about playing in the white stuff AGAIN. Lastly, Dear Farmer is anxious to get on with spring preparations, and it places everything he wants to do on 'HOLD'.
When Dear Farmer has to 'hold' for the snow to melt away, it usually means he has to do paperwork. Because he's done everything else there could possibly be to do.
And Dear Farmer would rather not do paperwork. Ever.
On days when paperwork is inevitable morning chores takes a lot longer. And then Dear Farmer
d-r-a-g-s himself inside.
Dear Farmer drinks about two pots of coffee.
Snuggles the littles.
Gets the biggers moving.
Eats breakfast.
Fiddles with the woodstove.
Makes several laps through the house commenting of the deplorable amount of stuff this family has.
And finally makes it into his office to sit down and do paperwork.
Then he spends hours as a caged animal in the office.
We hear thumping and grumping, the occasional bark.
By the fifth time that he's asked "When's lunch?" and it's only ten o'clock in the morning...we know it's going to be a long day.
So, here is the conclusion we have drawn: Dear Farmer doesn't like paperwork. We had a pretty good idea before, but now we are sure.
Also, Dear Farmer needs to be outside where there are no walls, the scenery is constantly changing, and the jobs are endless(unless there's snow and ice mix with windchill temperatures in the single digits or lower).
We are all anxious for the spring-like weather to reappear, so that Dear Farmer can go about being the happy farmer we prefer.
When Dear Farmer has to 'hold' for the snow to melt away, it usually means he has to do paperwork. Because he's done everything else there could possibly be to do.
And Dear Farmer would rather not do paperwork. Ever.
On days when paperwork is inevitable morning chores takes a lot longer. And then Dear Farmer
d-r-a-g-s himself inside.
Dear Farmer drinks about two pots of coffee.
Snuggles the littles.
Gets the biggers moving.
Eats breakfast.
Fiddles with the woodstove.
Makes several laps through the house commenting of the deplorable amount of stuff this family has.
And finally makes it into his office to sit down and do paperwork.
Then he spends hours as a caged animal in the office.
We hear thumping and grumping, the occasional bark.
By the fifth time that he's asked "When's lunch?" and it's only ten o'clock in the morning...we know it's going to be a long day.
So, here is the conclusion we have drawn: Dear Farmer doesn't like paperwork. We had a pretty good idea before, but now we are sure.
Also, Dear Farmer needs to be outside where there are no walls, the scenery is constantly changing, and the jobs are endless(unless there's snow and ice mix with windchill temperatures in the single digits or lower).
We are all anxious for the spring-like weather to reappear, so that Dear Farmer can go about being the happy farmer we prefer.
Monday, February 29, 2016
Dear Farmer is used to this phone call...but not this ending.
"The cows are out!"
If I had a dollar for every time Dear Farmer got that phone call...I'd have thousands of dollars! And rain, snow, or shine. During hay, startled awake, or driving...Dear Farmer drops everything and goes to call the "ladies" back to the fields of safety.
"The cows are out!"
At 10 pm when he just falls asleep. At 4 in the morning. While we're on a date. When we're sitting down to dinner.
"The cows are out!"
Absolutely the worst time to hear that is when we're out of town....which is what happened this weekend.
Dear Farmer and the Wife attended the MOSES Conference. It's the largest midwest organics conference, and the place where Dear Farmer isn't alone. ALL the farmers have the same lifestyle. ALL the farmers are in the same boat, doing the same paperwork, and needing some "atta-boy"-time. This conference is that refreshment for all those farmers. And the Wife? Really, she was just along for the ride. She went to the conference, heard the speakers, and came out patting Dear Farmer on the back("Look, Dear, you're not alone.").
After a wonderful weekend, on the trek home, we got the phone call.
"Pop! The cows are out!"
sigh.
(then the rest..)"Don't worry, Pop. We got them back in ourselves. Drive Safe!"
Wow! What a blessing to have a family that knows how to do what you do! A family that can pitch-hit without you, and appreciates you all the more.
Makes you feel like you did things well...makes Dear Farmer feel a tingly and happy inside.
#MOSES2016
If I had a dollar for every time Dear Farmer got that phone call...I'd have thousands of dollars! And rain, snow, or shine. During hay, startled awake, or driving...Dear Farmer drops everything and goes to call the "ladies" back to the fields of safety.
"The cows are out!"
At 10 pm when he just falls asleep. At 4 in the morning. While we're on a date. When we're sitting down to dinner.
"The cows are out!"
Absolutely the worst time to hear that is when we're out of town....which is what happened this weekend.
Dear Farmer and the Wife attended the MOSES Conference. It's the largest midwest organics conference, and the place where Dear Farmer isn't alone. ALL the farmers have the same lifestyle. ALL the farmers are in the same boat, doing the same paperwork, and needing some "atta-boy"-time. This conference is that refreshment for all those farmers. And the Wife? Really, she was just along for the ride. She went to the conference, heard the speakers, and came out patting Dear Farmer on the back("Look, Dear, you're not alone.").
After a wonderful weekend, on the trek home, we got the phone call.
"Pop! The cows are out!"
sigh.
(then the rest..)"Don't worry, Pop. We got them back in ourselves. Drive Safe!"
Wow! What a blessing to have a family that knows how to do what you do! A family that can pitch-hit without you, and appreciates you all the more.
Makes you feel like you did things well...makes Dear Farmer feel a tingly and happy inside.
#MOSES2016
Monday, February 15, 2016
The Thrill of Discovery!
Winter is a gigantic treasure hunt on the farm. Things that were supposed to be put away the night before are covered by a white blanket of snow in the morning. Chickens are hiding in the hay bales to stay warm. Goats are burying themselves under hay to stay warm. Dogs are burrowing bones and toys to keep away from chickens and goats who might want them.
Often through the day we use these opportunities to be treasure seekers. Sending the Farm-boy Trio to find the shovels...was it really an accident they were left out? Perhaps they were hoping that the snow would make the shovels melt-away? That glove that the HausFrau Farmer's Daughter let the puppy hold...he's now burrowed it away to insure she returns with him later.
But the absolutely most wonderful discovery is the EGGS!
As the cold gets colder our independent chickens like to hide their eggs, if they lay one. So eggs become like "gold". There are many things that we simply won't make in the winter due to lack of eggs. Eggs for breakfast is the first to go...Eggs in recipes are counted. Happy are the days that we find more than four eggs! Exciting are the days that we can have a full dozen in the fridge!
We talk about the days of having eggs as though they were years ago, with wars and children between them. Really...it was a short two months ago...
It is something that we look forward to returning to...the day we find TWO DOZEN EGGS!
Often through the day we use these opportunities to be treasure seekers. Sending the Farm-boy Trio to find the shovels...was it really an accident they were left out? Perhaps they were hoping that the snow would make the shovels melt-away? That glove that the HausFrau Farmer's Daughter let the puppy hold...he's now burrowed it away to insure she returns with him later.
But the absolutely most wonderful discovery is the EGGS!
As the cold gets colder our independent chickens like to hide their eggs, if they lay one. So eggs become like "gold". There are many things that we simply won't make in the winter due to lack of eggs. Eggs for breakfast is the first to go...Eggs in recipes are counted. Happy are the days that we find more than four eggs! Exciting are the days that we can have a full dozen in the fridge!
We talk about the days of having eggs as though they were years ago, with wars and children between them. Really...it was a short two months ago...
It is something that we look forward to returning to...the day we find TWO DOZEN EGGS!
Friday, February 12, 2016
The Goats are Messing Up the Barn
Dear Farmer is in the midst of a frustrating situation. The Goats are being goats.
They are climbing his hay like mountains and while doing so, they are making a mess of the hay.
The Goats are jumping and romping up the steep cliffs of the bales as though it were nothing. They bounce around like they have anti-gravity-hooves. They are healthy, happy, and energized Goats.
Gone are the days of Dear Farmer having the barn all to himself, the hay remaining neatly stacked until he fed it...the Goats are terrorizing his solitude. The Goats seem to have no concern for the neatness in the hay bales.
Dear Farmer is aghast!
He comes inside at night shaking his head and moaning..."my hay. they are wrecking my hay bales..."
The Wife looks at Dear Farmer.
She has two children hanging on either leg, snotty smiles and giggles. She is holding a baby who needs a diaper change(again). The living room is covered in legos and children. An art project is strewn out on the table with more children. There is lots of activity inside the house. Yelling, laughing, thumping activity. Happy and healthy, energized children.
The Wife offers to Dear Farmer, "I'll send the children out to the barn to help you clean up from the Goats."
Dear Farmer actually looks around, at the Wife, at the house, at the children.
"No...I'll go clean it up later." , he says.
And Dear Farmer goes back out to his barn...and the Goats. It's really not that bad of a mess down at the barn.
They are climbing his hay like mountains and while doing so, they are making a mess of the hay.
The Goats are jumping and romping up the steep cliffs of the bales as though it were nothing. They bounce around like they have anti-gravity-hooves. They are healthy, happy, and energized Goats.
Gone are the days of Dear Farmer having the barn all to himself, the hay remaining neatly stacked until he fed it...the Goats are terrorizing his solitude. The Goats seem to have no concern for the neatness in the hay bales.
Dear Farmer is aghast!
He comes inside at night shaking his head and moaning..."my hay. they are wrecking my hay bales..."
The Wife looks at Dear Farmer.
She has two children hanging on either leg, snotty smiles and giggles. She is holding a baby who needs a diaper change(again). The living room is covered in legos and children. An art project is strewn out on the table with more children. There is lots of activity inside the house. Yelling, laughing, thumping activity. Happy and healthy, energized children.
The Wife offers to Dear Farmer, "I'll send the children out to the barn to help you clean up from the Goats."
Dear Farmer actually looks around, at the Wife, at the house, at the children.
"No...I'll go clean it up later." , he says.
And Dear Farmer goes back out to his barn...and the Goats. It's really not that bad of a mess down at the barn.
Monday, February 8, 2016
So you want to be a farmer? The Reality of Being Organic and Sustainable
"Opportunity is missed by most people because it comes dressed in overalls and looks like work."
-Thomas Edison
If you thought that recycling made you sustainable and organic meant that you didn't use deodorant, then we're a shocker for you. We take that to a whole new level!!!(Yes, we do use odor protection.)
Sustainable means we put up enough hay in the summer to feed the herd in the winter, and we're planning on growing the grass again next year. So we mow it when it goes to seed-head. It's not a nice lawn look all year. Sometimes during the summer it may look quite shaggy-depending on rainfall.
It means when there's an apple tree in the field, we pick it and sauce it so we have food in the winter. We don't complain the apples are the size of your thumb. Sometimes sustainability can take on the same look as common-sense...a chicken gets used four different ways. First as a vet for the cows as it cleans the pasture, next as an egg layer, third as a stew bird for dinner, and lastly as chicken broth preserved for later. We use the sun and air we breathe to dry our clothes, for light during the day and that "fresh air" smell on our sheets.
Everything that's sustainable is hard work, there's no skating by. Burning wood for heat means cutting the wood, splitting the wood, and stacking the wood-sometimes in the coldest day of the winter.
But it's so worth it!
Organic means we don't use anything God didn't create for fertilizer, animals, and food. We use our own animals to fertilize the pastures, then give them a dose of watered down compost for good measure. We don't breed animals to have the biggest body-parts for show or production, we take them as God made them and use them right. That's why our goats have horns, cats have claws, and chickens have bone and skin! We let the animals eat the grass, the apples, the leaves, the herbs-and we don't peel back an ear of corn for them. This is the way God meant it to be.
Before you think this is all daisies and roses, can I be quite frank? Because of this life we live...there are things you may want to consider...wear mud boots(real ones, not fashionable ones) to get to the door. There's chicken poop everywhere. Why? They have wings, they fly any where they want to. That means to the house, not just in the barnyard.
There's a goat who will greet you at the car door, and will gladly display for you how she can urinate on your foot and poop all the way to the front door of the house.
The cats like to leave "gifts" everywhere. Dead mice, voles, ground squirrels, chipmunks...
Be prepared for dirt. The windows are open in the house and it coats the furniture...really, I dusted it off six times today from the dark wood piano! The dirt covers feet, shoes, clothes, and gets under nails. It sticks to the cobwebs created overnight, and onto the faucets where children were washing it off. It doesn't matter how we attempt to get rid of it, it comes back. A magazine cover will never show the reality of farm life dirt.
The mess. There's a plethora of misc. tools, equipment, toys, and vehicles that don't run. The reality is, we're busy staying alive, there'll be a time to make it all clean(when the dumpster is here), but right now isn't that time. So, if you're OCD(which I find I am) take a deep breathe and close your eyes as you walk past it. The mess won't change the taste of dinner, and it also won't make the photo shoot for the magazine cover(thankfully). So just move on. Lastly, prepare yourself for a new brand of sweat. I promise, we do use odor protection, but it doesn't help the amount of sweat we produce. It doesn't matter what time of year it is, there's hard physical work we're doing. Whether it's under the hot sun or bundled in the dead of winter-people around here are sweating! No need for aerobics class, we pitchfork hay around for hours. Snow-shoeing and cross country skiing are means for checking the fence lines. Walking miles is a form of transportation, not relaxation. And when you see people standing around this kitchen with dripping hair or frozen hair and wet shirts and socks, covered head to toe in dirt and poop-laughing about the day they just had...know that they've accomplished the "Organic" label that went on that product in the store. AND LIFE IS GOOD!
-Thomas Edison
If you thought that recycling made you sustainable and organic meant that you didn't use deodorant, then we're a shocker for you. We take that to a whole new level!!!(Yes, we do use odor protection.)
Sustainable means we put up enough hay in the summer to feed the herd in the winter, and we're planning on growing the grass again next year. So we mow it when it goes to seed-head. It's not a nice lawn look all year. Sometimes during the summer it may look quite shaggy-depending on rainfall.
It means when there's an apple tree in the field, we pick it and sauce it so we have food in the winter. We don't complain the apples are the size of your thumb. Sometimes sustainability can take on the same look as common-sense...a chicken gets used four different ways. First as a vet for the cows as it cleans the pasture, next as an egg layer, third as a stew bird for dinner, and lastly as chicken broth preserved for later. We use the sun and air we breathe to dry our clothes, for light during the day and that "fresh air" smell on our sheets.
Everything that's sustainable is hard work, there's no skating by. Burning wood for heat means cutting the wood, splitting the wood, and stacking the wood-sometimes in the coldest day of the winter.
But it's so worth it!
Organic means we don't use anything God didn't create for fertilizer, animals, and food. We use our own animals to fertilize the pastures, then give them a dose of watered down compost for good measure. We don't breed animals to have the biggest body-parts for show or production, we take them as God made them and use them right. That's why our goats have horns, cats have claws, and chickens have bone and skin! We let the animals eat the grass, the apples, the leaves, the herbs-and we don't peel back an ear of corn for them. This is the way God meant it to be.
Before you think this is all daisies and roses, can I be quite frank? Because of this life we live...there are things you may want to consider...wear mud boots(real ones, not fashionable ones) to get to the door. There's chicken poop everywhere. Why? They have wings, they fly any where they want to. That means to the house, not just in the barnyard.
There's a goat who will greet you at the car door, and will gladly display for you how she can urinate on your foot and poop all the way to the front door of the house.
The cats like to leave "gifts" everywhere. Dead mice, voles, ground squirrels, chipmunks...
Be prepared for dirt. The windows are open in the house and it coats the furniture...really, I dusted it off six times today from the dark wood piano! The dirt covers feet, shoes, clothes, and gets under nails. It sticks to the cobwebs created overnight, and onto the faucets where children were washing it off. It doesn't matter how we attempt to get rid of it, it comes back. A magazine cover will never show the reality of farm life dirt.
The mess. There's a plethora of misc. tools, equipment, toys, and vehicles that don't run. The reality is, we're busy staying alive, there'll be a time to make it all clean(when the dumpster is here), but right now isn't that time. So, if you're OCD(which I find I am) take a deep breathe and close your eyes as you walk past it. The mess won't change the taste of dinner, and it also won't make the photo shoot for the magazine cover(thankfully). So just move on. Lastly, prepare yourself for a new brand of sweat. I promise, we do use odor protection, but it doesn't help the amount of sweat we produce. It doesn't matter what time of year it is, there's hard physical work we're doing. Whether it's under the hot sun or bundled in the dead of winter-people around here are sweating! No need for aerobics class, we pitchfork hay around for hours. Snow-shoeing and cross country skiing are means for checking the fence lines. Walking miles is a form of transportation, not relaxation. And when you see people standing around this kitchen with dripping hair or frozen hair and wet shirts and socks, covered head to toe in dirt and poop-laughing about the day they just had...know that they've accomplished the "Organic" label that went on that product in the store. AND LIFE IS GOOD!
Saturday, February 6, 2016
The Chickens Are Coming! The Chickens Are Coming!
Farm Rule #100: It's going to be a warm day when: the chickens come up to the house!
At 7am the Wife sighted the first chicken up on the deck. She knew this meant it would be a warm day...
She turned off the furnace and turned on the blowers.
She doubled up wood inside the house so we could get the woodstove piping hot and (hopefully) open windows to get fresh air.
Then she smiled and told Dear Farmer that she was glad that spring is on it's way!
Dear Farmer broke the news to the Wife that the temperature is only to be at 38F today. 38F!!!! That's just above freezing!
But...but...but...the chickens are at the house! That means it's going to be a warm day...is 38F warm?
...maybe it there will be sunshine....
At 7am the Wife sighted the first chicken up on the deck. She knew this meant it would be a warm day...
She turned off the furnace and turned on the blowers.
She doubled up wood inside the house so we could get the woodstove piping hot and (hopefully) open windows to get fresh air.
Then she smiled and told Dear Farmer that she was glad that spring is on it's way!
Dear Farmer broke the news to the Wife that the temperature is only to be at 38F today. 38F!!!! That's just above freezing!
But...but...but...the chickens are at the house! That means it's going to be a warm day...is 38F warm?
...maybe it there will be sunshine....
Friday, February 5, 2016
The Farm-Boys Cut Wood
Today was one of those unusual days this time of year..clear blue sky and enough warmth to make you think spring wasn't so far away.
It was also unusual because we had all our farm-boys home, Honorable Sons 1&2, the Keeper of the Flame, the Pied Piper, and the Farmer's Shadow. The bigger boys had returned home for a day of woodcutting...a labor of love for their parents. The day went smoothly, the little Farm-boy Trio had the opportunity to keep up to the bigger brothers and they had great joy in working with the BIG BOYS.
The wood is stacked in neat rows, enough for the next few weeks.
Later that night we all sat down to dinner together. No electronic devices, just home-cooked food, and home-cooked humor. The dinner table was happy, the house was warm, and the parents were blessed. A truly wonderful way to end the day.
It was also unusual because we had all our farm-boys home, Honorable Sons 1&2, the Keeper of the Flame, the Pied Piper, and the Farmer's Shadow. The bigger boys had returned home for a day of woodcutting...a labor of love for their parents. The day went smoothly, the little Farm-boy Trio had the opportunity to keep up to the bigger brothers and they had great joy in working with the BIG BOYS.
The wood is stacked in neat rows, enough for the next few weeks.
Later that night we all sat down to dinner together. No electronic devices, just home-cooked food, and home-cooked humor. The dinner table was happy, the house was warm, and the parents were blessed. A truly wonderful way to end the day.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
Welcome the new Groundhog!
While Dear Farmer was preparing to do chores this afternoon he had the opportunity to witness a "waterbirth" by Yellow tag #1. Of course, this first time mother would choose the day that it's raining, snowing, and icing all at once to give birth to a little calf in a sludge puddle.
Dear Farmer had to get the pair into the barn, which is quite the chore when the weather is as it was, and set up with water and hay.
Dear Farmer, calf and cow were all covered in sludge from head to toe(or hoof),but everyone's now in the barn dry and safe.
The Wife called the calf "Groundhog", appropriate for the day and because we've done this all before.
Dear Farmer had to get the pair into the barn, which is quite the chore when the weather is as it was, and set up with water and hay.
Dear Farmer, calf and cow were all covered in sludge from head to toe(or hoof),but everyone's now in the barn dry and safe.
The Wife called the calf "Groundhog", appropriate for the day and because we've done this all before.
Monday, February 1, 2016
Farm-Boys Do Not Clean a Bedroom
Go ahead and tell the Wife all you want to about making boys clean their own bedrooms...it's nothing she hasn't told herself....however, the Farm-Boy Trio's bedroom was so BAD there was just no way she was going to ask for, require, or wanted their help. The bedroom needed an adult size heart of a prison guard, the adult size muscles, and a mother's love.
Just to give you a little taste of what the Wife has found in the Farm-Boys' bedroom in the past, here's the ugly side:
What kind of mother are you? A mother who has happy healthy children, who had a disgusting bedroom.
So now the Wife gave the Farm-Boy Trio the choice, "You may go outside and play with your goats, or work next to me cleaning your disgusting bedroom."
The choice was unanimous to go outside. And for the entire four hours that it took the Wife to clean the bedroom spotlessly wonderful, the Farm-Boy Trio played outside with their goats. The goats loved the attention, the Wife loved the solace of peace while cleaning, and the Farm-Boy Trio loves the clean bedroom. No disgusting discoveries were made during the cleaning this time...and once again the Wife is on the war path that the bedroom should NEVER look like that again!
Just to give you a little taste of what the Wife has found in the Farm-Boys' bedroom in the past, here's the ugly side:
- a dead vole in a jar under a bed-pillow (which the Wife was told, it's not dead, it's just sleeping)
- molded chimichangas stuffed under the bed (when did we last eat chimichanga's???)
- hardened banana peels in the closet
- underwear worn by a boy who didn't make it to the bathroom soon enough...under the pile of clean clothes.
- dead worms (they assured the Wife they were dead and dried when they came into the room, it was a scientific discovery)
What kind of mother are you? A mother who has happy healthy children, who had a disgusting bedroom.
So now the Wife gave the Farm-Boy Trio the choice, "You may go outside and play with your goats, or work next to me cleaning your disgusting bedroom."
The choice was unanimous to go outside. And for the entire four hours that it took the Wife to clean the bedroom spotlessly wonderful, the Farm-Boy Trio played outside with their goats. The goats loved the attention, the Wife loved the solace of peace while cleaning, and the Farm-Boy Trio loves the clean bedroom. No disgusting discoveries were made during the cleaning this time...and once again the Wife is on the war path that the bedroom should NEVER look like that again!
Friday, January 29, 2016
The "Polar Bear" puppy and Farmer's Daughter
The Farmer's Daughter became the caretaker of the the "Polar Bear" puppy-a Great Pyrenees- the moment she saw it. The puppy, at nine weeks, was the size of our full-grown Australian Shepherd. She was instantly in love. Affectionately referred to as the "Polar Bear" this pup is playful, smart, and a self-thinker.
The Farmer's Daughter has been taking her for regular walks around the perimeter of the farm property. The two have a grand time. As the Polar Bear is so large, her strides are pretty big as well, so she keeps up with or exceeds the strides of the Farmer's Daughter, the walk is done in a relatively short time.
Currently, because it is wintertime, the fields are damp enough to have created ice intermixed with the snow. The Farmer's Daughter, while on the walk today, slipped on the ice and landed flat on her back. The Polar Bear saw the Farmer's Daughter down on the ground behind her. The Polar Bear stopped, picked up the end of the leash that the Farmer's Daughter would hold, walked it over to the Farmer's Daughter(still on the ground), and licked her face as if to say "Get up and let's keep going!" The Farmer's Daughter is thrilled! This was proof positive for her that there is a relationship between the two(girl and dog) and that the Polar Bear will be a good guardian dog for the farm. Ahh, if we only could all have a Polar Bear in our lives...
The Farmer's Daughter has been taking her for regular walks around the perimeter of the farm property. The two have a grand time. As the Polar Bear is so large, her strides are pretty big as well, so she keeps up with or exceeds the strides of the Farmer's Daughter, the walk is done in a relatively short time.
Currently, because it is wintertime, the fields are damp enough to have created ice intermixed with the snow. The Farmer's Daughter, while on the walk today, slipped on the ice and landed flat on her back. The Polar Bear saw the Farmer's Daughter down on the ground behind her. The Polar Bear stopped, picked up the end of the leash that the Farmer's Daughter would hold, walked it over to the Farmer's Daughter(still on the ground), and licked her face as if to say "Get up and let's keep going!" The Farmer's Daughter is thrilled! This was proof positive for her that there is a relationship between the two(girl and dog) and that the Polar Bear will be a good guardian dog for the farm. Ahh, if we only could all have a Polar Bear in our lives...
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
The Farmer's Daughters' Bedroom.
It's a never ending cycle, and worse in the wintertime than the summertime. House cleaning. More specifically...bedroom cleaning.
Some days the bedrooms look like the destruction of the third World War, some days it's just more of a laundry explosion. It all depends on how cold it is outside.
If it's VERY cold outside, it's the latter rather than the former.
We are constantly cleaning bedrooms.
Organizational tools are for bedrooms that only have one or two children in them. The Farmer's Daughters are in a large room together. That's six daughters in one bedroom the size of the living room. First of all, that's a lot of girls/hormones in one room. Second, that's a lot of stuff in a room. Thirdly, that's a lot of laundry in a room.
The Farmer's Daughters do a great job of organizing...but the Smallest Farmer's Daughter Trio, they don't read. Labels are stickers waiting to be peeled off. Bins look pretty-especially when emptied all over the floor and used to place blankets in lovingly for doll beds. Folded laundry is for wimps that don't have a little sister to hide more important things from.
So organizing has flown out the window for the Smallest Farmer's Daughter Trio. Instead we have streamlined their laundry and belongings in the bedroom. Sounds nice, but now we have the issue of the Smallest Farmer's Daughter Trio getting into the belongings of the Bigger Farmer's Daughter Trio.
The Eldest Farmer's Daughter solved her problems by taking over the walk-in closet...she's made it her bedroom, it has a door with a lock on it. All her stuff, her bed, her dresser and herself fit very neatly into the closet. And when she comes out of the closet every day-she doesn't care that she's brunt of her brothers' joke because she and her stuff are all safe from little hands.
The Haus Frau and WhizBang! Farmer's Daughters have the brunt of the little sisters now. They have devised a method to keep the little sisters on their toes and out of their stuff. Ever played "Hide and Go Seek"?
Their organization is very similar to finding the needle in the haystack. Laundry is shoved in drawers and under beds, hanging from baskets and in hooks. Prize possessions are given homes each week. Keeping them on the move keeps the little sisters from finding and raiding them-candy, Ipods, lotion, and chapstick-these are a few of our favorite things.
Heaven help us if someone can't remember where the electronic device was moved to this week. The hormonal meltdown is equal to a nuclear reactor detonating.
Going off The Wife's Mother's rule when she was a child ("I need a path from the door to your bed.") is the beginning of cleaning the room. If The Wife says this to the Farmer's Daughters they know that the next day will be cleaning the Smallest Farmer's Daughter Trio Quadrant, followed by the next day of the Farmer's Daughter cleaning out her closet/room, and so on and so forth. By day five, it should all be clean and we can relax on day six. To make the mess again, and begin the whole process all over again the next week.
O the joy.
Someday all the Farmer's Daughters will look back on having shared a room together with fondness and laughter. Someday the Farmer's Daughters will use the same phrases their mother used and her mother used and I might think her mother had used..."If you can't find a place for it, don't keep it!", "Make a path from your bed to the door." You know those, maybe you use them too. Someday the Farmer's Daughters will have clean bedrooms.
Some days the bedrooms look like the destruction of the third World War, some days it's just more of a laundry explosion. It all depends on how cold it is outside.
If it's VERY cold outside, it's the latter rather than the former.
We are constantly cleaning bedrooms.
Organizational tools are for bedrooms that only have one or two children in them. The Farmer's Daughters are in a large room together. That's six daughters in one bedroom the size of the living room. First of all, that's a lot of girls/hormones in one room. Second, that's a lot of stuff in a room. Thirdly, that's a lot of laundry in a room.
The Farmer's Daughters do a great job of organizing...but the Smallest Farmer's Daughter Trio, they don't read. Labels are stickers waiting to be peeled off. Bins look pretty-especially when emptied all over the floor and used to place blankets in lovingly for doll beds. Folded laundry is for wimps that don't have a little sister to hide more important things from.
So organizing has flown out the window for the Smallest Farmer's Daughter Trio. Instead we have streamlined their laundry and belongings in the bedroom. Sounds nice, but now we have the issue of the Smallest Farmer's Daughter Trio getting into the belongings of the Bigger Farmer's Daughter Trio.
The Eldest Farmer's Daughter solved her problems by taking over the walk-in closet...she's made it her bedroom, it has a door with a lock on it. All her stuff, her bed, her dresser and herself fit very neatly into the closet. And when she comes out of the closet every day-she doesn't care that she's brunt of her brothers' joke because she and her stuff are all safe from little hands.
The Haus Frau and WhizBang! Farmer's Daughters have the brunt of the little sisters now. They have devised a method to keep the little sisters on their toes and out of their stuff. Ever played "Hide and Go Seek"?
Their organization is very similar to finding the needle in the haystack. Laundry is shoved in drawers and under beds, hanging from baskets and in hooks. Prize possessions are given homes each week. Keeping them on the move keeps the little sisters from finding and raiding them-candy, Ipods, lotion, and chapstick-these are a few of our favorite things.
Heaven help us if someone can't remember where the electronic device was moved to this week. The hormonal meltdown is equal to a nuclear reactor detonating.
Going off The Wife's Mother's rule when she was a child ("I need a path from the door to your bed.") is the beginning of cleaning the room. If The Wife says this to the Farmer's Daughters they know that the next day will be cleaning the Smallest Farmer's Daughter Trio Quadrant, followed by the next day of the Farmer's Daughter cleaning out her closet/room, and so on and so forth. By day five, it should all be clean and we can relax on day six. To make the mess again, and begin the whole process all over again the next week.
O the joy.
Someday all the Farmer's Daughters will look back on having shared a room together with fondness and laughter. Someday the Farmer's Daughters will use the same phrases their mother used and her mother used and I might think her mother had used..."If you can't find a place for it, don't keep it!", "Make a path from your bed to the door." You know those, maybe you use them too. Someday the Farmer's Daughters will have clean bedrooms.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
How Cold Is It?
Ask Dear Farmer how cold it is and you'll likely hear:
"It's so cold my eye balls froze."
"It's so cold when we milk the goat it comes out as ice-cubes."
"Cold? It's not cold. It's just the absence of heat."
"It's cold enough the cows are eating all day and all night just to stay warm."
"It's so cold we can't get vehicles started."
"It's so cold my clothes froze to me while I was working."
"It's so cold we're going to be selling fresh frozen chickens."
"The dogs are pup-cicles."
In reality it's so cold that Dear Farmer's hat froze to his head while doing chores...that would be the downfall to having a bald head when being a farmer.
In reality it's so cold that Dear Farmer HAS to keep moving, so he doesn't begin to get frostbite.
In reality it's so cold the 1000 gallon stock tank has frozen solid (and full) overnight.
In reality it's so cold that the milk does freeze the moment it hits the bucket when we're milking, the eggs freeze in the nesting boxes if a chicken isn't sitting on them, and the cows have icicles hanging off their noses and chin whiskers.
How cold is it? As cold as it usually gets here in the North.
"It's so cold my eye balls froze."
"It's so cold when we milk the goat it comes out as ice-cubes."
"Cold? It's not cold. It's just the absence of heat."
"It's cold enough the cows are eating all day and all night just to stay warm."
"It's so cold we can't get vehicles started."
"It's so cold my clothes froze to me while I was working."
"It's so cold we're going to be selling fresh frozen chickens."
"The dogs are pup-cicles."
In reality it's so cold that Dear Farmer's hat froze to his head while doing chores...that would be the downfall to having a bald head when being a farmer.
In reality it's so cold that Dear Farmer HAS to keep moving, so he doesn't begin to get frostbite.
In reality it's so cold the 1000 gallon stock tank has frozen solid (and full) overnight.
In reality it's so cold that the milk does freeze the moment it hits the bucket when we're milking, the eggs freeze in the nesting boxes if a chicken isn't sitting on them, and the cows have icicles hanging off their noses and chin whiskers.
How cold is it? As cold as it usually gets here in the North.
Monday, January 11, 2016
Dear Farmer "gets it" more than we do...
Everything is supposed to settle down to a nice dull roar during the wintertime. The feeding is supposed to go smoothly, the animals are supposed to behave nicely, and Dear Farmer is supposed to be getting a lot of planning done for the next year. Being very methodical and retrospective he's supposed to be looking at where grazing was done & how it will be done in the upcoming year. He's supposed to be reflecting on the rainfall over last year, how situations were handled & releasing the stresses.
Apparently no one clued in Dear Farmer. He's still working twelve hour days outside. Frozen, wet, and tired days.
Strange thing is, Dear Farmer comes inside to thaw, and he still has a smile on his face. He still loves his job.
Despite the misbehaving animals, the plans that get written and rewritten in his head(because he's not making it to a desk), despite the increase in stresses and the dip in temperatures...Dear Farmer loves to do what he does. Though none of the rest of us really understand (sometimes), we do see that this is the way it should be.
Your Farmer should love his job.
Apparently no one clued in Dear Farmer. He's still working twelve hour days outside. Frozen, wet, and tired days.
Strange thing is, Dear Farmer comes inside to thaw, and he still has a smile on his face. He still loves his job.
Despite the misbehaving animals, the plans that get written and rewritten in his head(because he's not making it to a desk), despite the increase in stresses and the dip in temperatures...Dear Farmer loves to do what he does. Though none of the rest of us really understand (sometimes), we do see that this is the way it should be.
Your Farmer should love his job.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
The Attack of the Sludge Monster!
The Pied Piper isn't the only one who has been battling the "SLUDGE MONSTER" (yes, the sludge has grown)...now it's Dear Farmer's turn. Here's the story:
So Dear Farmer goes out to do chores and hears the cows bellerin' a storm. Not really thinking too much of it, and writing off most of the noise to "them hormonal females" he feeds hay and feeds chickens, waters chickens, pets the dogs and trudges through the barnyard to turn off the hydrants for the stock-tanks. There, near the stock tank, was a yearling bull-calf, stuck in the sludge. Now, Dear Farmer was walking out to the stuck bull-calf when he realized two things. One: The cows are all bellerin' looking right at him from on top the hill. And two: Dear Farmer was sinking as he was walking, getting stuck in the sludge...the sludge was eating him!
Dear Farmer had heard of the Pied Piper and Wife's experience in the sludge, but had written it off to "that boy!". Dear Farmer didn't realize that there was a real problem going on, the sludge had grown into a full Monster!!! The river of sludge now encompassed the entire back of the barnyard, through the gate leading to the pasture and around the stock-tank.
The cows, however, realized full well that the low-ground where the stock-tank is wasn't safe. Though I am sure they lectured that bull-calf, he thought he knew better, and they all watched the bull-calf getting stuck and stuck-er. All the bellerin' was the cows just being mothers and telling that bull-calf, "You wouldn't be in this mess if you had listened to me!" and then the bellerin' was to Dear Farmer warning him of the danger.
Dear Farmer was stuck pretty well in that sludge, and pretty coated while he dislodged the bull-calf(who was very grateful he was getting saved). As he maneuvered out of the sludge he had plenty of time to look up at those cows on higher ground. Dear Farmer formulated a plan. If anyone is going to survive this crazy winter of non-frozen ground, drastic measures were going to be taken....Dear Farmer exited the barnyard and returned...armed with a chainsaw and wire cutters. He walked the high ground right in the midst of those cows and fired up the chainsaw. Then he cut away his beautiful oak fence that separated the barnyard from the pasture. The cows were so happy to not have to stay in the barnyard anymore and happily trotted out the high ground to the pasture.
This story is a love story...Dear Farmer will rescue the helpless from the Sludge Monster! He loves those cows so much he'll cut away a wooden fence that had blood, sweat and tears poured into it!
This story is a cautionary tale...do not build a barn in the low-lands. Always build on high ground.
This story is vindication...the Pied Piper and the Wife did not do anything wrong in dealing with the Sludge Monster, it is a monster that even Dear Farmer has had to do battle with. Beware of the Attack of the Sludge Monster!!!
So Dear Farmer goes out to do chores and hears the cows bellerin' a storm. Not really thinking too much of it, and writing off most of the noise to "them hormonal females" he feeds hay and feeds chickens, waters chickens, pets the dogs and trudges through the barnyard to turn off the hydrants for the stock-tanks. There, near the stock tank, was a yearling bull-calf, stuck in the sludge. Now, Dear Farmer was walking out to the stuck bull-calf when he realized two things. One: The cows are all bellerin' looking right at him from on top the hill. And two: Dear Farmer was sinking as he was walking, getting stuck in the sludge...the sludge was eating him!
Dear Farmer had heard of the Pied Piper and Wife's experience in the sludge, but had written it off to "that boy!". Dear Farmer didn't realize that there was a real problem going on, the sludge had grown into a full Monster!!! The river of sludge now encompassed the entire back of the barnyard, through the gate leading to the pasture and around the stock-tank.
The cows, however, realized full well that the low-ground where the stock-tank is wasn't safe. Though I am sure they lectured that bull-calf, he thought he knew better, and they all watched the bull-calf getting stuck and stuck-er. All the bellerin' was the cows just being mothers and telling that bull-calf, "You wouldn't be in this mess if you had listened to me!" and then the bellerin' was to Dear Farmer warning him of the danger.
Dear Farmer was stuck pretty well in that sludge, and pretty coated while he dislodged the bull-calf(who was very grateful he was getting saved). As he maneuvered out of the sludge he had plenty of time to look up at those cows on higher ground. Dear Farmer formulated a plan. If anyone is going to survive this crazy winter of non-frozen ground, drastic measures were going to be taken....Dear Farmer exited the barnyard and returned...armed with a chainsaw and wire cutters. He walked the high ground right in the midst of those cows and fired up the chainsaw. Then he cut away his beautiful oak fence that separated the barnyard from the pasture. The cows were so happy to not have to stay in the barnyard anymore and happily trotted out the high ground to the pasture.
This story is a love story...Dear Farmer will rescue the helpless from the Sludge Monster! He loves those cows so much he'll cut away a wooden fence that had blood, sweat and tears poured into it!
This story is a cautionary tale...do not build a barn in the low-lands. Always build on high ground.
This story is vindication...the Pied Piper and the Wife did not do anything wrong in dealing with the Sludge Monster, it is a monster that even Dear Farmer has had to do battle with. Beware of the Attack of the Sludge Monster!!!
The Snow, the Skis, and the Farmboy Trio
We finally have snow that is staying on the ground! This can only mean one thing at our farm-it's time for winter activities to begin!
The favorite activity this year appears to be cross country skiing. The Keeper of the Flame (oldest of the Farmboy Trio) is finally big enough to wear the boots and actually move the skis where he desires to go.
He's been waiting a long time (2 years), because the boots we have are the Wife's and she wears a woman's size 7...as the Keeper of the Flame is shorter than the Wife, it was a wait he did not know if he was going to endure alive. Who cares about being taller than your mother? The Keeper of the Flame wants his feet to fit into her ski boots!
This new freedom he has comes with strings...he has to share the skis with the Wife(who actually owns them, so she gets first dibs) and all the Older Farmer's Daughters. But wait! There's more...
The Pied Piper wants to ski also. Because "anything that the big brother can do, I should get to do too", is the Pied Piper's frame of thought. The Pied Piper didn't want to believe the Wife when she said his feet weren't big enough for the boots, or that the skis were too big and he was too small, or that he had to wait a couple more years to grow a little older....these were all mute points.
So no less than three times in the day, the Wife has rescued the Pied Piper from death in cross country ski-related activity. First he was well stuck on the ground with skis all discombooblated and poles sticking and pointing in dangerous positions. Then he was precariously balanced betwixt tree and poles with skis dangling in the air(note: skis do not make you fly). The Wife's all time favorite was the "hill" he created down the slide and was attempting to ski down it (the skis are almost longer than the slide).
The Wife introduced snow shoeing(we have a pair for every family member), skating (a black pair fit him perfectly), but who cares about all of those? The Pied Piper was born to cross country ski!
Don't forget about the Keeper of the Flame, however. He has been patiently waiting for this moment to come in his life, he gets dibs before his disobedient brother! So upon waking every morning, in order to assure that the Keeper of the Flame gets the skis, he is the first one up and dressed with chores done and he's out the door and on the skis, blissfully enjoying the serenity of a crisp winter morning on the farm...cross country skiing.
The favorite activity this year appears to be cross country skiing. The Keeper of the Flame (oldest of the Farmboy Trio) is finally big enough to wear the boots and actually move the skis where he desires to go.
He's been waiting a long time (2 years), because the boots we have are the Wife's and she wears a woman's size 7...as the Keeper of the Flame is shorter than the Wife, it was a wait he did not know if he was going to endure alive. Who cares about being taller than your mother? The Keeper of the Flame wants his feet to fit into her ski boots!
This new freedom he has comes with strings...he has to share the skis with the Wife(who actually owns them, so she gets first dibs) and all the Older Farmer's Daughters. But wait! There's more...
The Pied Piper wants to ski also. Because "anything that the big brother can do, I should get to do too", is the Pied Piper's frame of thought. The Pied Piper didn't want to believe the Wife when she said his feet weren't big enough for the boots, or that the skis were too big and he was too small, or that he had to wait a couple more years to grow a little older....these were all mute points.
So no less than three times in the day, the Wife has rescued the Pied Piper from death in cross country ski-related activity. First he was well stuck on the ground with skis all discombooblated and poles sticking and pointing in dangerous positions. Then he was precariously balanced betwixt tree and poles with skis dangling in the air(note: skis do not make you fly). The Wife's all time favorite was the "hill" he created down the slide and was attempting to ski down it (the skis are almost longer than the slide).
The Wife introduced snow shoeing(we have a pair for every family member), skating (a black pair fit him perfectly), but who cares about all of those? The Pied Piper was born to cross country ski!
Don't forget about the Keeper of the Flame, however. He has been patiently waiting for this moment to come in his life, he gets dibs before his disobedient brother! So upon waking every morning, in order to assure that the Keeper of the Flame gets the skis, he is the first one up and dressed with chores done and he's out the door and on the skis, blissfully enjoying the serenity of a crisp winter morning on the farm...cross country skiing.
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Dear Farmer is "Old Fashioned"
I know that title surprises you, doesn't it?!
Dear Farmer spent the day battling the weather. Freezing snow and rain mix pelted him all day. Add to that the loveliness of high winds and biting cold, it was perfect winter weather for the North. That is what Dear Farmer worked in all day. Walking back and forth between hay feeders, with hay and without hay to get more hay. Opening and closing hydrants for water tanks. Carrying feed buckets for the chickens, watering the chickens, gathering eggs, building pens for the goats and "polar bear"-puppy in the barn, so they were sheltered from the weather, and chasing calves (who were jumping through the feeders) back into the barnyard. That was all Dear Farmer did, all day, twelve hours.
Now when Dear Farmer walked in the door to the house(frozen) he relaxed in the warm room next to the woodstove...and picked up a book. Totally oblivious to the bug-eyed teenage Farmer's Daughters sitting on the couches in the room. The girls had a crazed look in their eyes. The look that said, "I haven't talked to anyone but my family ALL DAY!" There were dolls on the floor mixed with legos and pattern blocks, a nice array of board books and wood chips decorated the area directly where he sat thawing. But he didn't notice. Suddenly, as if the veil had been lifted from his face, he saw everything. The Farmer's Daughters, the mess, the twitching eyebrow on the Wife's face.
"Eh?" , said Dear Farmer
He was answered (enthusiastically) by all the Farmer's Daughters all at once. Though it sounded like dull humm of an outboard motor in water, there was one common thread he could understand from all the girls..."The storm has taken out the internet!"{GASP!}
What that means is on this particularly miserable day, while all the children had off school-work, they were cooped up inside and not one of them could stream a video, not one could text a friend, no one could check out the blogs, the news, or social media of any kind. It had been a day where all they can do was read a book or talk to eachother. They played games together, they painted eachother's nails, they drew pictures of animals, we had conversations. It was a great day! But quite frankly the Wife was ready to have everyone go to bed, her ears had begun to ring from so much interaction. (thus the twitching eyebrow).
But the internet being gone was no big deal for Dear Farmer. He was glad it was gone...we had an old fashioned evening. All was quiet, the Old Fashioned kind of quiet.
Dear Farmer spent the day battling the weather. Freezing snow and rain mix pelted him all day. Add to that the loveliness of high winds and biting cold, it was perfect winter weather for the North. That is what Dear Farmer worked in all day. Walking back and forth between hay feeders, with hay and without hay to get more hay. Opening and closing hydrants for water tanks. Carrying feed buckets for the chickens, watering the chickens, gathering eggs, building pens for the goats and "polar bear"-puppy in the barn, so they were sheltered from the weather, and chasing calves (who were jumping through the feeders) back into the barnyard. That was all Dear Farmer did, all day, twelve hours.
Now when Dear Farmer walked in the door to the house(frozen) he relaxed in the warm room next to the woodstove...and picked up a book. Totally oblivious to the bug-eyed teenage Farmer's Daughters sitting on the couches in the room. The girls had a crazed look in their eyes. The look that said, "I haven't talked to anyone but my family ALL DAY!" There were dolls on the floor mixed with legos and pattern blocks, a nice array of board books and wood chips decorated the area directly where he sat thawing. But he didn't notice. Suddenly, as if the veil had been lifted from his face, he saw everything. The Farmer's Daughters, the mess, the twitching eyebrow on the Wife's face.
"Eh?" , said Dear Farmer
He was answered (enthusiastically) by all the Farmer's Daughters all at once. Though it sounded like dull humm of an outboard motor in water, there was one common thread he could understand from all the girls..."The storm has taken out the internet!"{GASP!}
What that means is on this particularly miserable day, while all the children had off school-work, they were cooped up inside and not one of them could stream a video, not one could text a friend, no one could check out the blogs, the news, or social media of any kind. It had been a day where all they can do was read a book or talk to eachother. They played games together, they painted eachother's nails, they drew pictures of animals, we had conversations. It was a great day! But quite frankly the Wife was ready to have everyone go to bed, her ears had begun to ring from so much interaction. (thus the twitching eyebrow).
But the internet being gone was no big deal for Dear Farmer. He was glad it was gone...we had an old fashioned evening. All was quiet, the Old Fashioned kind of quiet.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
The "Dog-days" of Winter
I know that the "dog-days" are in summer! I know all about the stars and WHY it's called the "dog-days" of summer...but on the farm we have experienced a new phenomenon. Maybe you have as well...when it rains it pours...dogs.
The Hausfrau has for months been wanting to breed our farm dog (a purebred Aussie) and sell puppies. Part for the money, part for the want of a puppy, part as insurance that when/if the farm dog dies...there's a replacement. Searching for another purebred Aussie (unpapered) within the Wife's required hour travel radius has not been easy. Search has been limited.
Meanwhile, the farm is purchasing a Great Pyrenees puppy to guard the meat chickens we produce in the summer...keeping the predator issues at a minimum would be maximum. The search for the farm (as the Wife is not the one driving) has been much expanded.
Wouldn't you know the two would be found within days of eachother?! Isn't that just the way it works?
On one end of the farm we have housed in a chicken pen a "polar bear" puppy. She's nine weeks old. She's absolutely adorable and squeeze-ably soft. The Farmer's Daughter is in love. She's announced she'll never get married or have children, just this one "polar bear".
On the other end of the farm we have crated in the house a "brown bear" puppy. He's seven weeks old. He's absolutely fluff-ably soft and roly-poly cuteness. The Hausfrau is in love. She's announced she will have the cutest puppies ever and the best herding dog on the farm.
The farm dog we have has been the "Queen Bee" of the farm for five years. She feels totally inundated with puppies from every angle. Of course, the Hausfrau has plans that she will have her own litter of puppies... but to not have even been pregnant and all of the sudden have puppies...everywhere, puppies!!! She's a little discombobulated. She feels as though the sky has been falling. Or maybe...it's that the "Dog-days" of winter are here.
The Hausfrau has for months been wanting to breed our farm dog (a purebred Aussie) and sell puppies. Part for the money, part for the want of a puppy, part as insurance that when/if the farm dog dies...there's a replacement. Searching for another purebred Aussie (unpapered) within the Wife's required hour travel radius has not been easy. Search has been limited.
Meanwhile, the farm is purchasing a Great Pyrenees puppy to guard the meat chickens we produce in the summer...keeping the predator issues at a minimum would be maximum. The search for the farm (as the Wife is not the one driving) has been much expanded.
Wouldn't you know the two would be found within days of eachother?! Isn't that just the way it works?
On one end of the farm we have housed in a chicken pen a "polar bear" puppy. She's nine weeks old. She's absolutely adorable and squeeze-ably soft. The Farmer's Daughter is in love. She's announced she'll never get married or have children, just this one "polar bear".
On the other end of the farm we have crated in the house a "brown bear" puppy. He's seven weeks old. He's absolutely fluff-ably soft and roly-poly cuteness. The Hausfrau is in love. She's announced she will have the cutest puppies ever and the best herding dog on the farm.
The farm dog we have has been the "Queen Bee" of the farm for five years. She feels totally inundated with puppies from every angle. Of course, the Hausfrau has plans that she will have her own litter of puppies... but to not have even been pregnant and all of the sudden have puppies...everywhere, puppies!!! She's a little discombobulated. She feels as though the sky has been falling. Or maybe...it's that the "Dog-days" of winter are here.
Saturday, December 19, 2015
The Farmboy Trio and the Sludge!
Today was cold. We've had unusually warm weather, but today was actually freezing. The Farmboy Trio was intent that pond in the middle of the woods was probably frozen, and no one was going to persuade them any different. So outside the Trio went! {Ahh, the house was so quiet.}
About an hour later into the house burst the Keeper of the Flame(oldest of the Trio).
"Help! The Pied Piper is stuck in the sludge and we can't get him out!"
The Wife stopped making lunch and got on her "duds" to go on the rescue mission. She found the Pied Piper stuck up to his knees in sludge. Boots were totally unseen and boy was crying, "I'm stuck! I'm cold!"
{For the record: sludge in this case is made up of half mud and half cow manure.}
All the questions could be answered later, the sludge was acting like quick sand, the more he had struggled, the more stuck he was. The Wife had on her "duds", but there was no amount of "dudding" that was going to rescue her from getting quite coated in sludge as well. The Wife made her way out to the boy, leaned over, told the Pied Piper to hold onto the back of her coat, and plunged her hands into the ice-cold sludge to grab ahold of the boots below. Foot number one came unstuck and the Wife lost her balance. The Wife was now coated with sludge from the right hip down, both her hands to elbows, and in her hair. This was not going to get any better, foot number two now had to be dislodged. With the free-ing of the second foot the Wife picked up the crying Pied Piper and carried him out of the sludge. With sludge dripping everywhere, the both of them made it inside. All boots were dropped outside the door-the Keeper of the Flame hosed them all out and off. Inside the house clothing was stripped off and went directly to the laundry to be hosed off and then washed. Frozen hands and feet were thawed in water and then by the woodstove. Thankfully no one else followed the Pied Piper into the sludge! For ONCE! Thankfully it was just one boy the mother had to rescue and there were others to go run for help! That's why we go in "twos" everywhere on the farm.
And for the record, the pond was not frozen.
About an hour later into the house burst the Keeper of the Flame(oldest of the Trio).
"Help! The Pied Piper is stuck in the sludge and we can't get him out!"
The Wife stopped making lunch and got on her "duds" to go on the rescue mission. She found the Pied Piper stuck up to his knees in sludge. Boots were totally unseen and boy was crying, "I'm stuck! I'm cold!"
{For the record: sludge in this case is made up of half mud and half cow manure.}
All the questions could be answered later, the sludge was acting like quick sand, the more he had struggled, the more stuck he was. The Wife had on her "duds", but there was no amount of "dudding" that was going to rescue her from getting quite coated in sludge as well. The Wife made her way out to the boy, leaned over, told the Pied Piper to hold onto the back of her coat, and plunged her hands into the ice-cold sludge to grab ahold of the boots below. Foot number one came unstuck and the Wife lost her balance. The Wife was now coated with sludge from the right hip down, both her hands to elbows, and in her hair. This was not going to get any better, foot number two now had to be dislodged. With the free-ing of the second foot the Wife picked up the crying Pied Piper and carried him out of the sludge. With sludge dripping everywhere, the both of them made it inside. All boots were dropped outside the door-the Keeper of the Flame hosed them all out and off. Inside the house clothing was stripped off and went directly to the laundry to be hosed off and then washed. Frozen hands and feet were thawed in water and then by the woodstove. Thankfully no one else followed the Pied Piper into the sludge! For ONCE! Thankfully it was just one boy the mother had to rescue and there were others to go run for help! That's why we go in "twos" everywhere on the farm.
And for the record, the pond was not frozen.
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