Morning view

This is what I saw as I stood at my kitchen sink this morning to begin breakfast preparations...



The fog hovering in the valley, the calf nursing, the knowledge that I am looking at our own trees on the horizon, the rainbow painted in bold horizontal swaths... I am so undeserving of this view, and the intricate and precious blessings that surround me at every moment.

One of the many gifts of this farm is how present we are to the miracle of life. There is less to distract us, and the boldness and beauty of God's creation is more in our face every moment. We are also aware of the constancy of change. That view is gone now, but in that fleeting moment of its gift, I was called to stop and be fully present to the moment.

Stop today. Breathe in the fullness of the life that you have been given. Open your eyes to see the beauty right in front of you. Engage fully with someone you love. Today is all we have. Worship the Lord with your full presence in His world.

Blogging break

You may have noticed that I have not been keeping up with my 10 minutes a day of writing. That's because the kids and I went away for a vacation to balmy Pennsylvania (where 37 was the highest temperature during our visit). I took a break from everything, even e-mail, and it was HEAVENLY!

We visited dear friends for the week... it was so refreshing, both physically and spiritually. I have some great pictures of the baby in a snowsuit. SO cute! I'll post them when I get the camera dock hooked back up to the computer.

While we were gone Stephen was a busy boy, not only working his full-time off-farm job, but making some major progress on some of our big projects. I'll have pictures of those too.

Room with a view

This morning I was standing in the kitchen drinking my tea, looking out the window at this happy domestic scene:



On the right you can see cattle circled around some food. There are chickens smattered across the center. On the far left are Joe the horse, Ruth the mule and Dominic the donkey. Stephen is standing holding the baby, with The Princess right next to him. The dogs are to the right of Stephen.

I realize at this small scale things are hard to see, but I think you can get a sense of how peaceful and happy this view was for me.

Sick horse

Poor Joe got colic today. Stephen found him lying on the ground partially entangled in some fencing.

Sad, sick Joe then had to be walked for hours until he felt himself again. Seems his tummy just couldn't handle the fresh rye grass growing in the pasture he was moved to last night.

But now, according to Stephen, "He's fine. Walking around. So you can say that your superhero husband saved a horse's life."

The man thrives on emergency.

Non sequitur

Driving from ballet to gymnastics today, the van was quiet when this conversation sprung up...

Princess: "I always try to be nice to Farmer Boy. Non sequitur."
Mama: "What?!"
Princess: "I always try to be nice to Farmer Boy. Non sequitur."
Mama: "Non sequitur?"
Princess: "Yes."
Mama: "Where did you learn non sequitur?"
Princess: "From you."
Mama: "What does it mean?"
Princess: (thinks for a moment) "Well, you know, if we were driving along and talking about ballet and I suddenly said 'I like going to bible study on Thursdays', well, that would be a non sequitur."
Mama: "Yes, it would. Yes, it would."

She's five. Look out world!

Inspiring Quote

"Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep." (Scott Adams)

The Princess (age 5) on Organized Sports

"I really like being a goalie for baseball."

Farmer Boy is 10

My baby has hit the double digits!

Farmer Boy turned 10 today. His party theme was "Whacky Games". The kids played Crazy Auto Race, Coconut Bowling (coconut for a ball and milk jugs for pins), 3-legged Race, Noodle Baseball (pool noodle for a bat and beach ball), Balloon Soccer, and Stuff the Shirt (in one minute stuff as many balloons as possible up a big shirt you are wearing).

3-Legged race:



Noodle Baseball:



Stuff the Shirt:



The cake was a joint Mama/Farmer Boy creation:



He conceived the castle and implemented it himself (those are candy legos). All I did was bake the cakes and make the grass, moat, bridge and road. He also laid out the figures, put "crocodiles" in the moat, and created the jousting ring and dragon jail.

Stephen observed that it was the first interactive cake he had experienced. With each slice of cake, new drama unfolded on the scene. Falling walls received the most enthusiastic "audience" response. Observe how the dragon has broken free from its jail cell and wrought havok...



Happy birthday, sweet son. We are so proud of you, in so many ways!

Egg Faceoff

Today I made fried eggs for everyone for breakfast. I had only one farm egg for Stephen so I also used one store bought egg I had. What a difference just to look at! Our egg was so pretty; the store-bought egg was pale and icky looking. I noticed that even the white was tinted yellow, which indicates that what little color WAS in the yolk was helped artificially. It is a sadly common practice to add colorants to a factory farm hen's diet.



Here was Stephen's culinary assessment:

"The yolks have a distinctive difference... there's a taste I've never noticed before, and it's in the store bought egg, and it's not a good taste. The whites have the same taste - nothing - but the consistency of ours is much better. The store bought one is kinda more synthetic rubbery. Perhaps comparable to bubble wrap."

I didn't know he'd eaten bubble wrap before.

Trials

I have one of those scripture-a-day calendars on my kitchen windowsill. My mom gave me one two years ago for Christmas, and I liked it so much I have made a point of buying one myself to be sure I have it for each new year. This is my third such calendar. I love to have the inspiration and source of meditation in front of me when I work at the kitchen sink.

Today's scripture was from 2 Corinthians 1:3-4...

"What a wonderful God we have - He is the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the source of every mercy, and the one who so wonderfully comforts us and strengthens us in our hardships and trials." (from The Living Bible translation)

I am in a busy season of my life. Our eldest is in fourth grade, and we homeschool him, so five days a week that is my main focus. Our middle daughter is very academically inclined, so even though she would still be in preschool if she went to "away" school, she is doing seat work for older children. She is also a pretty emotionally demanding child. And of course Little Guy has HIS seat work... learning to get out of his seat and crawl! This new found desire for mobility means I am usually either holding him or spotting him when he is awake. There are many things I can only do when he naps. But there are more things to do during those fleeting naps than are minutes in which to do them.

I am finding myself falling farther and farther behind with the normal things, like dishes and laundry. I am finding myself with less patience, finding myself falling asleep with the baby and having trouble getting up in the morning. I am finding it hard to carve out my 10 minutes to write.

I am just plain tired, really, no matter how much sleep I get.

Today's verse really made me think. I would not say I am in a period of hardship, but I do need strengthening. My eye fell on the word "trial".

Who is trying me, and for what am I being tried?

I believe I know the answer to that question. When everyone is pleasant and the sun is shining, it is easy to be a patient mother. But what do I teach our children if I am grouchy and frustrated when things aren't so easy?

Now before I say this, let me be clear that I do not believe I can earn my way into God's love. But it is kind of helpful to think of these trials, as "try-outs", like auditions for a play. The play is my life, and I am playing to an audience of One.

Wouldn't it make sense for me to go to The Director at the end of the day and say, "How did that one go, what do you think? Was I little too dramatic in that bit about the broken glass? Maybe I need to work on a gentler tone in the scenes with unfinished chores. Oh, you liked the part when I gave out hugs and kisses?"

When all is said and done, the course of my whole life WILL have been played to an audience of One. I want to make Him proud. But each part of my life has extra audience members. In this act, I have a husband and three beautiful children, as well as many beloved friends and extended family members. I would very much like to make them proud as well.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood." (Hebrews 12:1-4 NIV)

Joe

Haven't written about Joe in a while. You may remember that we bought Joe in the summer of 2005 for our niece to train. Joe is still with us, and still green. We are probably going to sell him, as we don't know how to train him, and even if we paid to have him trained, we are all absolute beginners with horses, so really need an animal that is old and steady, not a spirited four year old.

He sure is pretty though, and we enjoy seeing him out in the fields with Dominic the donkey and Ruth the mule. I love this picture, taken by our young friend Denise...

Esau

We have a new little buck here these days. We got him back in November or so. He is a Nubian. His grandfather belongs to our friend. Ancient Abraham came and had a vacation with us last year, in the hopes of getting Snowy pregnant. Didn't work (we knew that was a possibility given his age).

So this year on a whim we bought his grandson, who Stephen named Esau. You know... Abraham... Isaac... Esau. :-)



After we bought him I realized that while he has the ability to become a daddy, he might not be big enough to reach! Not to mention the fact that Snowy and Sylvester have been pretty tough on him. I honestly don't know if he's bred Snowy. Time will tell.

He is cute though, and after our years with earless goats, he's making up by having ears in spades!

Austin's ice mania makes it on Ellen

This is hysterical. Turn your volume on to hear this:

Ellen show cancelled in Austin because of ice

Delicious vegan and wheat free gravy

This is a modified version of a recipe from Vegetarian Times in 1989, probably the November or December issue:

MUSHROOM GRAVY

1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed
4 Tbsp Smart Balance Organic Margarine
2 c. sliced mushrooms
4 Tbsp. tapioca flour
2 c. vegetable stock
2 Tbsp. soy sauce
1 tsp. molasses
1/2 tsp each: savory & thyme
dash pepper (to taste)

Saute onion and garlic in Smart Balance until soft.
Add mushrooms and simmer 5 min. over low heat.
Stir in flour; cook over medium heat for 2 minutes.
Add stock, soy sauce and molasses.
Cook, stirring until thickened, about 3 or 4 minutes.
Season with savory, thyme and pepper.
Serves 4.

(This freezes well, so I like to make a huge batch then freeze in small quantities to serve with roast chicken)

Sharing the adventures

(Note on January 21, 2007: I wrote most of this in March of 2006, but never got around to posting it.)

Do you ever feel like you are living out a bad movie? Like things happen that are so improbable, and so ridiculous, that someone must have scripted it for plot development or effect?

A good example of this would be that when Stephen and I shared our first kiss, we were sitting under a tree in a park in the evening, and just as we kissed, fireworks, yes, real live fireworks, went off. It was July 3, 1991, obviously the day before Independence Day, and apparently some kids had brought some (illegal in RI) fireworks to the park to play with. A reasonable scenario, yes, but still, fireworks for your first kiss?

Well, it seems that our propensity for goofy situations (see just about every entry in this blog) is rubbing off on our guests.

Visitors' Adventures take 1: When Ben and Esther came to visit us with their family, they drove out into a blizzard at 3:00am to get to the airport, and had an accident in a foot and a half of snow, 100 yards from their house. They tried to dig out but couldn't. They left a note for the owner of the parked car they'd slid into and began to trudge home through the blizzard with their 2 year old and 5 year old, when a police officer stopped them, and made Ben go back and wake up the car's owner to tell him what had happened. The owner was much more reasonable than the police officer (the car had not been damaged!) and said they'd talk on the phone later. As soon as they got home, they called the airline. Their flight was not leaving for three or four more hours. They were on hold until after the flight took off, so were considered no-shows, and had to buy brand new tickets. So not only did they arrive a day late, they had to leave a day early (their seats on their return flight had already been resold!!). The icing on the cake was that Farmer Boy ran a fever from two hours after their arrival until two hours after their departure.

Visitors' Adventures take 2: Our friends Greg and Amy (and THEIR 5 yr old and 2 yr old) are now here with us. After the troubles with Ben and Esther's flights (and his disappointment at being sick the whole time), Farmer Boy was convinced something bad was going to happen on Greg and Amy's flight. We heard not a word from them, followed their flights online; everything was on time and peachy. Stephen and The Princess went to the airport while the Boy and I stayed home. Twenty minutes after the flight arrived, Stephen calls: "Have you heard from Greg and Amy?". OY! Thankfully, they actually were there, it just took 40 minutes for them all to find each other.

So they arrive on Thursday, and on Friday they borrow our car to drive the 3 hrs to Waco to visit some old friends. Four hours after they leave, Greg calls. The tire has exploded. He's put the spare on but is hesitant about driving it back. Later that evening he calls and says they have decided to spend the night because the car was too weird to drive with the spare. Next morning, an hour before we expect them back, he calls again. He'd gotten up early to go get the tire fixed, and when he tried to unlock the driver's door, the key broke in the lock. You see what I'm saying about the bad movie, yes?

Well, they finally make it back, about 18 hours later than originally planned. Sunday is basically eventless, save the breaking of a small part on one of the seatbelts in the truck.

Monday, everyone decides to go into Austin and leave me alone on the farm for some much coveted time to myself. I help load everyone into dad's truck (the only vehicle that will fit more than 5 people), and Amy can't get her seatbelt to come out (a different seatbelt this time). It is positively stuck. Later Stephen calls to update me on their trip. All is going well; I hear about the visit to the ice cream place and playing in the park, and the bookstore Amy is hanging out at while the guys took the kids to a computer store and "The car just died." "You mean right now? It just stopped going right this minute?" "Yes." "Can you turn it back on?" "I think it's out of gas. I have been looking at the battery gauge not the fuel gauge all this time." They eventually make it back to the farm. Greg was the adult who had the most FUN of all, since he was the one stuck in the car with four kids while Stephen walked to a gas station and Amy sat in a bookstore wondering where everyone was.

Should I go on about the cows that escaped when Ben was here or the fence he and I had to repair or the sheep that left the property when Greg was here and we couldn't herd back? No, I'll let you just imagine how much fun YOU are going to have, and what exciting transportation and livestock adventures will come YOUR way, when you visit us.

Visitors' Adventures, take 3... anybody? Anybody?

Our icy world

Pictures from the ice storm...

The ice is thicker than the branches:



Sylvester, our La Mancha wether:



The workshop and its treacherous icicles:



Icy chicken wire with icicles:



The weight of the ice brought down a limb from a tree next to the house:



Chicken feed barrel:



Chicken brooder with teenage chickens:



Icy brush pile:



The kids' wagon with some rocks in it:

Fire Starters

It is a rarity that the weather is cold enough to inspire us to light a fire in the hearth, but all the ice got us motivated. Farmer Boy and I dug deep into the wood pile to find dry logs, but some were still damp. It was really hard to get the fire going, so I decided to make some fire starters.

I keep a metal can into which I put old stubs and drips of candles. I boiled some water, put the can into it and melted the wax. Then I tied string around old pinecones that we had collected, and dipped them into the wax.





Here's the fire, all set up... the two ends of the string on the pine cone are lit...



Hooray! It worked! We kept this fire going until bedtime...

Ice

For days the local meteorologists have been all abuzz about an exciting weather event, and it has come. Already dubbed Ice Storm '07, we have been getting dire warnings along the lines of:

- Be sure to wear warm clothing
- Layering is important for increased warmth
- For safety walking on ice do not wear high heels, and take short flat steps.

We couldn't help laughing at "short flat steps." I know, not everyone grew up where ice was a normal part of every winter. But it always takes us by surprise how intensely locals react to winter weather around here. And how little people know about how to deal with it.

Everyone is cautioned to stay home, and for good reason. The fact is, most Austinites don't know how to drive on the ice. Not that it is a safe proposition anywhere, but around here it is doubly dangerous because of other drivers.

To give a juxtaposition: last February our friends were scheduled to come from Virginia for a visit. The day before their flight they got a foot or two of snow. The airport they were flying from was not closed. So they tried to go to the airport. They didn't manage (the roads were still impassible), but the point is, the airport wasn't closed!

Around the farm the cold and ice mean that chicken waterers are filled in the tub (due to frozen hoses), dogs get to sleep in the laundry room, Mamas bake special treats, and kids turn the driveway into a skating rink:



We're in for another day of sleet and freezing rain tomorrow. It's a party!!

Seasons

I grew up in Rhode Island. There were four seasons every year, each distinct.

Winter was fun at first. It came right before Christmas, and we even had snow at Christmas sometimes. We'd love those first snows... sledding, snowmen, snow angels. I'd even be eager to shovel the driveway at first. But winter in Rhode Island, there by the ocean with its temperature raising effects, was mostly grey and slushy. Those beautiful snow blankets would come, yes, but on their heels would come ever-so-slightly warmer weather, which would start to melt the snow. Then the cold would come and a layer of ice would form on top of the snow, then melting, then freezing, until it was all a big mess of icy slushy dirty snow spraying everywhere from under your car wheels. And just so very much (heavy) work. I got pretty depressed from January to March, and I always got my worst grades in the third quarter. It wasn't until I took a psychology class in high school and learned about Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) that I recognized what was going on. There was not a lot of sun from December through March. After that I'd make a point to study sitting by a window, and it helped.

Spring was a joy, a relief. It was lovely and bright, with pale green leaves everywhere and daffodils growing in everyone's yard; still a little nippy, but usually sunny... a promise of summer to come. I loved to cut branches of pussy willow and rub their softness against my upper lip. School filled my days, but the sun made things manageable again.

Summer was warm, but rarely hot. We spent our days barefoot, wearing our soles thick on pavement and the rocks at the little beach we visited as often as possible. I can still feel the crunchiness of my skin after swimming in the ocean, the smell of seaweed in my hair, the sand between my bathing suited bottom and the vinyl seat of our station wagon. Every morning I awoke to the birds singing, a sound I only heard in the months when it was warm enough to leave the windows open all night. Sometimes we'd get really lucky and one would build a nest in the Christmas tree my parents had planted right outside one of my bedroom windows. We'd peer down into the branches from my second floor window to see if the eggs had hatched, and then watched as the babies grew. In the evening my brother and I would catch fireflies and put them by our beds in glass jars with holes poked through the metal lids. I'd ride my bike around the neighborhood and pick wild blackberries in abandoned lots. Our Labor Day party would come, and then, back to school.

But oh how lovely the autumn was. As hopeful as spring was, and as magical as summer was, the fall was a time of pure beauty. There is a certain blue that the sky gets in Rhode Island in September that I have never seen anywhere else. The slow turning of the colors never ceased to capture me. I would look for the signs each day. Here a yellowing tree, there a blush of red, until an explosion of color surrounded me everywhere I went. Red, yellow, orange, green, with vibrant blue above, pulsing with life. Perhaps the fact that winter's death was coming made it even more unbearably lovely; I did wonder that even then.

And full circle to winter again.

We are Texans now, all of my family. My parents, then my brother, and lastly me, have each moved to Texas. We own homes here. Stephen and I have three little native Texans for children. We no longer have four seasons.

In Texas (at least where we are, in the Austin area) there are two seasons. Central Texans joke that the seasons are "Hot and Really Hot." It's not entirely inaccurate. It is hot here for about 8 months of the year (when high temperatures are 90 or above), and then there's the not so hot time. Occasionally it actually gets genuinely cold. And that's when Central Texans kinda lose their cool (no pun intended).

Here's an Austinite mathematical statement to ponder (and a teaser for tomorrow's post):

Cold + Precipitation = Panic

The Iceman cometh....

Things we've learned on the farm

Today's post is a collaboration between the five Browns. Well, Little Guy had a bit of help.

Things we've learned on the farm....

Little Guy:
1) Must eat Mama's face.
2) Must eat marble.
3) Must eat dog's face.
4) Must eat!

Princess:
1) Don't try to make a dog your horse (the dog will just sit down).
2) You might like owning a cat.

Farmer Boy:
1) Don't stand under the tree in which the hens sleep.
2) A 6 month old baby should not go in a 9 year old's room.
3) Nice roosters never eat until they make sure the hens have enough.
4) Two plywood boards that are wet from the rain make an excellent slide when propped in the chicken coop window.

Stephen:
1) Never lean over a cow to take food from it (you'll need stitches but you'll refuse).
2) Mules bite.
3) When trying to pry the jaws of a goat open in order to stick your arm down its throat in order to extract a nail from its innards, it will let out a blood curdling scream.
4) Mesquite thorns go through rubber boot soles.
5) Tractors break a lot.
6) Always wear your pants on the outside of the boot.
7) Other people's fencing is much more interesting than it was three years ago.
8) If you plan a vacation to do fencing, the rain you keep praying for will come.

Patti:
1) Never kiss a goat (can you say fat lip?).
2) Do not straddle a goat to give it medicine. It will not sit down like the dog (see Princess #2).
3) If you have work that must be done today and can only be done when the baby is sleeping, the baby will not nap.
4) Ground beef from the slaughterhouse is best packaged in 1 lb portions, not 2 lb.
5) Free range chickens would rather lay their eggs in the dog house and baby bike seat than in the chicken house.
6) Children do not automatically understand that getting in the horse trough is a bad idea. You have to make a rule.
7) Husbands who were dragged grudgingly to fireworks shows in the past will become 10 year old boys when they have their own box of fireworks and a 68 acre farm.
8) Goats will eat latex gloves. And trailer wiring. And your bike seat cushion. And chicken feed. And horse feed. And the window screen on your front porch. And your baby trees. And all the flowers around your house. And a nail.
9) Hens will occasionally catch a ride in the van to the post office with you.
10) If you're a farm dog, the ideal day includes a dip in the muddy pond, a nice shake right next to your favorite human, then a fragrant roll in a fresh cow patty.
11) The most comfortable place to sleep, if you're a dog, is either on the chair on the front porch or on the welcome mat. Not only does this bring you comfort, but it lends a homey feel to the porch. See number 10.
12) The following can not be given access to a pretty yard: dogs, gophers, goats, moles, chickens, ducks, children. And occasionally husbands.
13) Pretty yards are not nearly as much fun as: dogs, gophers, goats, moles, chickens, ducks and children. And always husbands.
14) The second most important thing on a farm is good fencing.
15) The most important thing on a farm is a sense of humor!

Who needs organized sports?

I'm telling you, billions of dollars and loads of brain cells would be saved if everyone came to understand this basic concept:

You do not need organized sports if you have farm animals.

We have 50 or so two month old chickens in the brooder house. They need to move out of the house and its attached porch, not because there isn't enough room for them, but because they are flying out whenever we open it up to feed and water them. Today the kids and I (all three... Little Guy on my hip in the sling) teamed up to tackle the chore. In the process of removing, refilling and replacing three feeders and two waterers we lost three birds. Well, not LOST exactly. They flew out.

Let the games begin!

For a while there was a rake involved but I did not feel confident that we could avoid decapitating or otherwise maiming a chicken, so that got set aside. There was chasing, there was stalking, there were clever strategies involving feeders, and brilliant side moves to distract dogs. There was lunging and missing. And a lot of laughing.

Guess who won? They might not be smart but they're small and they're FAST.

Round two begins tomorrow, assuming the final winner isn't a coyote swiping his breakfast from under the brooder.

I like my husband

I've been chatting with Stephen about the fact that I can't think of anything to write about for my 10 minutes today. He has given me many wonderful suggestions. Which got me thinking about what a great guy he is, so I'm going to blog about Stephen.

This summer, the Sunday after Little Guy was born, we started going back to our old church in the big city. When we moved we decided we should try to find a church home in the community in which we live. Three years later we were still homeless churchwise. So we decided that the 45 minute drive was worth it.

Since being back, Stephen has thrown his heart and soul into this little community. He became a part of the music ministry soon after we rejoined, and this Christmas played guitar, flute, and trombone, and sang choral music. This is in a church with about 100 people, so we're not talking about a mega church with fancy gear. This is a bare bones tiny church. I was SO proud of him. His enthusiasm, along with that of another church member, helped them to pull off wonderful music (without the help of the paid music minister who was on vacation), that included many church members who had previously not gotten up to share their gifts with the church at large. He spent countless hours researching, rewriting musical arrangements, and practicing. He was at church from 9:00am until 10:00pm on the 24th, just because he wanted to be. He is so good at identifying others' gifts and seeking to include them. He brought a lot of joy to a lot of people. Did I mention I am proud of him?

That is just a taste of the wonderful man that Stephen is. He works so hard to allow me to stay home and raise and educate our children. He makes wise financial decisions. He is always willing to sacrifice his desires for the benefit of his little family. He works a full time job, runs a farm, helps educate the kids, took a class last semester, and in his spare time in 2006 he learned to play the mandolin and banjo, as well as improved at the guitar, flute and piano. In 2007 he is diligently practicing sight reading music, and learning the cello.

Stephen is a man of integrity and wit. He is passionate, yet is the first to admit to making mistakes or being inconsistent. He loves to argue and loves to win, but will always tell you if he thinks you were right in the end. He is an excellent problem solver and has the capacity to marry seemingly unrelated concepts in a way that is almost shocking.

The boy I fell in love with is "all growed up" now. Turns out I married Mr. Right. Thanks for asking, Stephen... I'm glad I said yes.



In case you're wondering what's in that fabric around his shoulder...



...it's Little Guy in a sling when he was about a month old.

I love you Stephen. :-)

Calf update

When I left you in March we had a bottle fed calf. She miraculously went back to her mother after several weeks. Mom did manage to relactate to some extent, but our little girl never was quite right. We ended up trading her to a neighbor for Ruth the mule:



The little black calf spent several months trying to put on weight at our neighbor's. He bottle fed and grain fed her. Last I heard she was heading for the auction.

The black bull managed to sire more calves; three were born in the summer.

We also took our first calf (a little over a year old) to the slaughterhouse in October. The meat was quite good, especially the ground beef. Being a free-range boy his muscles were strong, so the meat was tough if not ground or tenderized, but what flavor! A good soak in wine for the steaks, and a long slow cook in the crockpot for the roasts have helped make the meat more easy to chew. It feels good to now have our own beef, chicken and eggs. Now if we can get the garden in, and get a goat to actually give birth, we'll add produce and dairy and we'll be practically self sufficient!

Peanut Butter Cookies (wheat free, dairy free, egg free)

1 c. brown sugar
1/2 t. vanilla
1/2 c. peanut butter
1/2 c. Smart Balance Organic margarine
1 1/2 c. oat flour
1/2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. baking powder
1/4 t. salt

Mix brown sugar, vanilla, peanut butter and margarine until creamy. In separate bowl combine oat flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Mix well. Add flour mix to peanut butter mix slowly. Form balls (if crumbly, flattened patties might be easier), place on ungreased cookie sheet and press with criss-cross pattern using fork. Bake at 350° for 9 minutes. Makes about 5 dozen.

Food sensitivities

When I was four years old my mother discovered that I was a much nicer person when I did not drink cow's milk. She took me off all dairy products and I went from miserable child to stable member of the family. When I was seven I was able to consume dairy products again, but I retained a sensitivity to them that still shows when I am under stress.

Our second child was clearly sensitive to foods in my breastmilk, presenting with the classic symptom of eczema. For The Princess we narrowed it down to dairy and chocolate. I removed them from my diet, and she grew out of it by age two.

Little Guy, our third, has been the most challenging and complex case for us yet. I eliminated chocolate, then tested it. Definitely bad. Then I took out dairy. Yup, that too. But he still was having problems. I finally went on a multiple elimination diet, reducing myself to meat, vegetables (except tomatoes, peppers and potatoes) and fruits other than citrus and berries. I took out everything that was a common allergen, and then some. After two weeks I slowly started adding things back in. Now we know he can't have dairy, chocolate, wheat, eggs and tomatoes. And that's in breastmilk! Imagine if he actually ate it!

My weird diet has forced me to get creative. We are eating a much more varied diet grain-wise. The thing I miss the most (besides pizza, for which there is no substitute) is baked goods. I have found several recipes that really work (and have had plenty of flops... eww!). I will be posting successful recipes here every so often in the hopes of helping other folks like me who have to take large categories of food out of their diets.

BTW, Little Guy is the happiest, sweetest baby, but I did not know that until I had eliminated these foods. So many of his symptoms would have been called colic, or reflux, and he would have been medicated for them. In the end such a simple solution. If you have a fussy or rashy baby, do consider food sensitivity. And if you need support, I'm here!

Sausage

The sausage making experiment turned into a three day affair.

The first night I ground 2 1/2 lbs of breast, leg and thigh meat. It took about 45 minutes. While it wasn't as physically demanding as grinding wheat is, it was definitely slower because I could not get any meat to actually come out the little holes, like it showed in the helpful picture on the box (did I mention this did not come with instructions?). I did get about 1/2 lb through, most of which was given to the dogs because it "cleaned" those nice holes which were still full of machine grease, despite a thorough washing. I am sure all you house dogs out there are salivating just thinking about that raw meat, but Molly looked at me dolefully as if to say, "Chicken again? Can't I just sleep on your bed instead?" Poor deprived farm doggie.

The 2 lbs that I kept mostly came back up out of the hole into which I'd put the chicken pieces originally. Ah, whatever, at least it was the right consistency.

In the morning, using a recipe I found online, I mixed in spices and whatnot and fried up some patties. Not bad. But too sweet (maple syrup in the recipe... I put in way less than called for and left out the brown sugar!), and not salty enough. I also found a critical piece of the grinder which I had accidentally left in the sink during my original cleaning, hence the pitiful first grinding session (DUH!).

The second night I roped Stephen into grinding, and he did a great job. He ground over 5 lbs of thighs and legs in less time than I had done 2.5. He still had some trouble with the meat coming up out of the big hole. The leg meat is full of tendons and membranes that are pretty annoying too. Hard to cut off the bone and hard get through the grinder.

This morning (day 3) I tried another recipe, and this one was a success! It was a bit too salty and I think had too much thyme, but I am going to tweak the recipe until we come up with a winner!

After all my excitement about the hog casings, real life is winning out (with its sick babies, and breaking down vans), and I am freezing the sausage into logs to cut for patties. Three nights of staying up late dealing with dead chickens is enough for me. But I WILL make sausage links some day by golly! There's all that beef in the freezer....

Here are the winning sausage patties cooking:

The weird things that make me happy

I'm all excited now. I just received my hog casings from Ask The Meatman.



Yeah, empty pig intestines are making me happy. 1/2 lb of cleaned out pig guts will hold 25 lbs of homemade chicken sausage. I have 12 birds that Stephen slaughtered Satruday that have just finished curing (being chilled in ice for 3-5 days) and are ready to be frozen or otherwise finished up in preparation for consumption. The last 37 I froze whole but these guys will be cut up into breasts, legs, etc, and at least 25 lbs will become sausage.

If the teething baby with a cold ever sleeps. ;-)

Introducing...

Little Guy!



A 9 month blog writing break was just enough time to make a baby! :-) Okay, he was actually born in June and is now 6 months old. Here he is having his first bite of "solids" (actually a banana/breastmilk smoothie) on New Year's Eve:

Perfection

Today I received this quote in an email:

"Perfection is the enemy of the good." (Gustave Flaubert)

Alas, as much as God has done to heal me of my perfectionist tendencies, they still hover around me here and there. One area in which I find them quite present is in my writing. I have been writing for myself - poetry, prose, fiction - since I was 10. I was 30 before I let anyone read anything that was close to my heart. I am far more comfortable sharing what I write now, thanks in great part to email and the internet. Nevertheless, I find it hard to start sometimes because I want it to be "just so".

In my mid twenties I worked for a woman who became aware of my perfectionism as I wrestled with setting up a display case in her shop. I agonized and fretted and arranged and rearranged, and really didn't accomplish much. Through gritted teeth she pointed out, "Done is better than perfect." That phrase has stayed with me lo these many years.

In the interest of exercising my "done is better than perfect" muscle, I've decided to make a New Year's resolution (I rarely do this because, yes, you guessed it, I am a recovering perfectionist and I dread that I might fail).

Ten minutes a day of writing. Most of it will probably be posted here.

You've been warned!

An evening in the life...

Stephen took the kids and our visiting company to Austin this afternoon, leaving me to enjoy a rare period of solitude. It was lovely... I read, I napped, I ate ice cream. :-)

Then I went out to do chores. The logistics of the chores this afternoon, for varying reasons, were so complicated, that I actually sat down and wrote out a plan before I started. Here's what ended up happening:

1) filled water bowl currently being shared by goats, dogs and chickens; fed laying hens
2) finished cleaning outside brooder from last batch of chicks so that the batch in our laundry room can finally move outside
3) pulled rubber glove out of goat's mouth
4) noticed red calf on lawn; looked for hole in fence; couldn't find one
5) put dogs in the house because they were scaring the red calf instead of helping me
6) got wheelbarrow (with chicken manure in it from cleaning brooder), took it through sheep pen, and into horse/cow pasture
7) herded cows away
8) put horses in corrals (so they wouldn't eat cattle feed)
9) climbed fence to sheep pen then back to lawn; put goats in trailer (so they wouldn't push into the workshop and eat out of the bins)
10) got cattle cubes (grain) and alfalfa from workshop (saw rat, mental note to tell Stephen)
11) gave goats in trailer alfalfa
12) enticed cattle up to where I wanted them with cubes, threw the grain over fence, saved some to lure red calf to gate, failed because she wanted to be with the other cattle, even if they were separated by a fence (because I was alone I couldn't herd AND open a gate, so I had to really finagle this)
13) got more cubes, tried at a different location, ALMOST got her in, but failed again.
14) got more cubes, tried putting the cubes on the other side of the sheep pen and herding the red calf into the sheep pen (had to open that gate, so now the sheep were on the lawn). Failed.
15) second attempt to get her into the sheep pen... I scared her so badly she revealed the hole in the fence (hooray!). She was through and back with her mom, and I quickly twisted the wire in a lame attempt at a makeshift fix (no time for anything else, to which the gorgeous sunset attested)
16) raced through sheep pen, closing gate so that the black calf wouldn't go out, climbed into horse pasture
17) dumped manure out of wheelbarrow
18) fed horses (I am moving like lightning now because the cattle are going to be done with that grain soon and they are loose in the same area as the horse corrals, and are soon to come begging for grain from the now open barn)
19) threw half a bale of hay into the wheelbarrow, along with the barn broom
20) closed up barn and got through the gate to the sheep pen just as cows started coming around the corner
21) pushed the wheelbarrow through the sheep pen to the yard
22) went back to the workshop, got a bucket of goat grain and a bucket of sheep grain
23) lured the sheep back to their pen, closed them in
24) set up feeders for the goats on the outside of the trailer, filled them and let the goats out.
25) got into the trailer with the barn broom, and cleaned out all the old hay
26) put fresh hay in trailer from the wheelbarrow
27) ran to house, made up 2 quarts of calf milk replacer in huge bottle
28) grabbed flashlight on the way out the door (sun is very set now)
29) went into the sheep pen, and lured black calf with bottle
30) she started sucking and I led her to the gate, then out onto the lawn and to the entrance to the trailer (her current night time shelter)
31) big challenge: she couldn't, or was afraid to, get up into the trailer. I am 5 1/2 months pregnant. I can't lift her. So I finagled it by lying the bottle down on the trailer floor and getting one leg at a time up and in, slowly sliding the bottle back into the trailer. The last leg was the hardest, but we did it.
32) closed trailer door, and went to the end of the trailer so I could brace the bottle against the wall (she is really rough, and I want to protect my own baby)
33) she finished, and really wanted more, but there was none, so she tried to nurse on various parts of me; no time for calf massage tonight (although I did some while she nursed)
34) out of the trailer, back through sheep pen, climbed over gate to horse corrals, bringing broom
35) let horses out
36) climbed back over and turned on water in sheep pen
37) back to yard; fished hose through fence and cleaned out the black calf's water bucket, slid it into the trailer and filled it up through the side of the trailer. I am happy that she has clean hay and fresh water tonight
38) turned off water in sheep pen; moon is full
39) went to shop to turn off light and close up; had to quickly dump some grain on the ground to distract the goats from racing in with me
40) with flashlight walked to check on 90+ broilers (meat chickens) in our newly made portable hoop-coop; all is well.
41) got mail
42) let dogs out and took last look for today's eggs
43) flashlight died, exchanged it for a working one when I put eggs in house
44) moved two roosting chickens off the back porch and into the chicken house; closed it up for the night
45) fed the dogs
46) checked on baby chicks in laundry room
47) washed my hands and ate the last chocolate chip cookie. :-) I think I earned that one.

I believe I climbed over the wooden fence from the sheep pen to the horse pasture at least four times. If you had told me when I was 20 that I when I was 36 years old I'd be pregnant, homeschooling my kids, managing horses, cattle, donkeys, goats, sheep, dogs, chickens, and climbing five foot fences, I probably would have laughed in your face.

What a long, strange (but magical) trip it's been!

Calf developments

This morning we awoke to The Princess crying from a nightmare. While Stephen was rocking her, the weather alert went off with a tornado warning for our county.

Things were still outside, no rain or wind even, so I just went back to sleep. At 5:30 we awoke to pouring rain and gusting winds. The calf! She was still in the round pen with no shelter.

Stephen and I got dressed, pulled on our boots and headed out. We were concerned about the Mama, who has been easing up a bit in her vigilance, but who is still worried about her baby. From the safety of the horse corral I shone the light all around. We could see the horses and donkey, but no cows (although it was pretty difficult to tell for sure since it was pitch black and raining... mostly we gauged by the height of the eyes shining back at us).

Stephen entered the round pen and ran the calf until he cornered her, while I shone the flashlight from the safety of a horse corral. He picked her up, I raced out of the corral and opened the round pen gate, and we stumbled through the mud and rain praying fervently that the mother wasn't about to kill us (where to shine the flashlight? Into the night to find a cow? On the ground to keep from falling?). We made it to the sheep pen, while the dogs brought way to much attention to us (and made us furious) by barking wildly. We made it through the last gate and let the calf go.

After we caught our breath (even a 1 week old calf is pretty heavy; my excuse was purely adrenaline related), Stephen caught her again, and put her into the cattle trailer so she could have a roof (we don't yet have a good place to hold her that is water tight). After checking to make sure the broilers weren't drowning in their coop, Stephen went back and dried the calf off with some towels.

After the sun came up, he took the kids to feed her for their first time. She is finally in a place that I feel is safe for them to approach her (they don't have to go through the mother). She did great! Farmer Boy did much of the feeding, and Stephen wants him to take on this responsibility now (don't tell: I'm a little jealous).



Later in the morning, I was standing in the kitchen cutting fruit, and I heard the mama cow mooing for her baby. I looked up, and through the window could see her standing forlornly at the now empty round pen. At the time we had a Henry Purcell CD on (our composer of the term), and there was the saddest song playing. Between my pregnancy hormones, the music, and the plaintive mooing of this mama whose baby was now not only out of reach, but out of sight, it was hard to keep my own tears in check. The sad music continued as she finally turned away and walked to the other side of the field to rejoin her "sister" cows.

This afternoon the calf was acting weird and listless, and Farmer Boy and I were worried. Stephen wasn't, though, and sure enough, she was fine in the evening. Guess she was just tired (although part of me wondered if she wasn't a bit depresssed as a result of being separated from her mother... maybe anthropomorphising here a bit). We had visitors from MI arrive with their two young boys, so they got to watch the evening feeding, done mostly by Farmer Boy.

The calf is unbelievably soft and silky, and really seems to thrive with a lot of physical affection. This makes sense... her mama licked her a lot. She is one week and 3 days old today. We're going to have to find a better place for her soon; the trailer really isn't a nice place to live.

Adventures in cattle raising

Last week our final cow gave birth to a calf... the first from our new bull! Here they are (at a distance, hence the blurriness) on the baby's first day:



Can you see how full the mother's udder is? Well, it stayed like that, and got worse. As much as we watched, we never saw the calf nursing. Instead she would suck on the mother's dewlap (chest/neck skin flap). The only other place we ever actually saw her sucking was the fold of skin beside the cow's thigh. After a few days we were concerned, but she was still alive and still able to walk around normally, so we figured she must be getting something.

However, as the days wore on, she seemed skinnier and weaker and we began to really worry, and finally, this morning, Stephen managed to separate out the calf from the rest of the herd, into the round pen.

Once again, we are dealing with far less than ideal facilities. The round pen is a) too big a pen for a calf, b) has no roof or shade, c) right in the middle of the field where the calf's mother is. The mother was NOT AMUSED. General wisdom is that it is usually more dangerous to get between a mother cow and her calf than to deal with a bull.

Stephen went out and bought calf milk replacer and BIG baby bottle. He had a rough time of it with her the first time. It took 20 minutes for her to even figure out what to do. The night feeding went a little better, only taking her about 5 minutes to figure it out. Here he is, succesfully feeding his girl:



Mama is having a rough time; she wants her baby! She hovers around the pen, and stays even when the other cows leave. Getting in and out of the pen is scary because in her distress (especially after she's watched the baby being tackled and fed) she wants to charge anything, just to get her frustration out. The dogs have taken the brunt of the chasing.

Visitors

Last week we enjoyed a wonderful visit from our friends from Virginia; in the midst of which was not-so-welcome visit from the cows on the front lawn!

Remember way back at the beginning of our adventure here, when I had to find that place inside myself to be all that I could be and jump into the fire of farm life? You know, the time when all the cows were on the lawn and the fence was broken and I was the only adult in town? Well, they did it again.

Things are tough if you're an herbivore in Texas right now. We had almost no rain this fall, so there is almost nothing growing. Because of that, the demand for hay has been so intense that the prices have skyrocketed, and now, most of our suppliers are completely out. They long ago sold their own hay, and have been bringing it in from other areas, but even that supply has dwindled. So everyone is hungry.

We had one uneaten round bale left, and it was in the field next to our house. I thought the cattle still had a bale up on the hill, but I was wrong. There I was, squatting on the floor in front of my health books trying to figure out if I should worry that my son's temperature was 104.5 for the second day, when our friend Ben, who had been sitting in the front yard writing, popped his head in to say "Patti, there's a cow in the yard." Sure enough. {{sigh}}

Did I mention we moved the driveway and no longer have a gate between the road and the yard?

I went in the house to find the tractor key and call Stephen to ask him a question and discovered the phone was dead. By the time I got back out, there were 4 cows in the yard. To my chagrin, they had broken through the area I had "fixed" a year and a half ago.

I got the hay loaded onto the tractor, and drove it into the goat pen. The cows started to follow but then realized there was hay aplenty left on the ground where the bale had been. So after parking the tractor, I walked back, bringing the dogs, and after two passes, we managed to get two of the cows to go back through the spot they had broken, and two into the goat pen. I'm so glad Ben was there to help me with the gates! Since Farmer Boy was stuck in bed with that fever, The Princess would have been my only assistant, and while she is a great farm girl, she is only 4, and it's a lot to ask when there's a 1500 pound animal bearing down on you.

Anyway, we moved the hay over to the cow pasture and the two cows in the goat pen followed. Ben got to drive the tractor back, and his daughter even had a little ride. Then we had to fix the fence. Thankfully, I know a LOT more about fencing now than I did 18 months ago, so we were actually able to fix it in a way that should hold. The whole thing is going to be replaced in the not-so-distant future, thankfully.

So the cows were returned to their rightful place. Later Ben fixed the phone line (have I mentioned how THANKFUL I was to have him here?). Farmer Boy ended up running a fever for five days; the entire time our friends were here, poor thing.

We had other misadventures... horses trying to eat old disgusting hay from the chicken coop, goats and sheep in an infinite loop in the shop (I'd get one out and another would come in), a major temper tantrum and meltdown by yours truly in said shop (at least the only ones who heard were the goats and sheep). Pretty much the usual ups and downs of farm life around here.

I was totally spoiled by Ben's wife, Esther, who kept the kitchen gorgeous the whole time they were here (no mean feat, as I am not a tidy cook). Because the boy was sick, things weren't really normal (whatever that means), but he was able to do some school a few of the days, and The Princess especially enjoyed having another little girl around with whom to play and share her school activities.

All in all it was a great week, not just despite, but maybe even because of the unexpected.

Cat Chicken?

Can a chicken have nine lives like a cat? We have an Aracauna who seems to.

This girl came with 10 other chicks, who we tried to get a broody mama to adopt. For one reason or another, only four of those chicks made it past the first few days, and only three were around at a week. Those three were carefully cared for by their adoptive mother.

They lived separately from the other chickens, down at the barn with the goats. Eventually Mama Hen decided she was done and left them to fend for themselves. They did well, roosting way up in the rafters of the loafing shed at night. But our terrible coyote problem this fall caused great chicken attrition, and the aracaunas were not exempt. One of the three disappeared and the other two decided to move their digs up to the chicken house with the rest of the girls.

They were not exactly welcomed with open wings. This is normal. Every new chicken who comes on the farm has to deal with the pecking order, and mostly the new girls learn (over and over) that they are at the bottom of it. But at least they had each other.

Then they didn't. We have to assume that yet another was a coyote breakfast, because suddenly we had only one. She is so different looking from the others that we'd check for her to make sure she was still with us. Plus we were really looking forward to those cool green eggs.

Then she disappeared. We assumed she was yet another tasty treat for the resident wildlife.

One day, Stephen and Farmer Boy were cleaning out the utility trailer to load it up for a dump run. Among the items in the trailer was an old mailbox. Inside the mailbox was the Aracauna. How she got stuck in there, we will never know. She was in rough shape. Very dirty, very weak. We didn't know if she'd make it. Not only did she have some recovering to do, but as soon as you're sick, you are the very lowest of the low on the pecking order, and chickens have been known to peck a sick bird to death. Talk about survival of the fittest!

But she recovered. She got stronger, she cleaned herself up, and pretty soon it was back to normal for Miss A.

A week ago, Farmer Boy suddenly raced past me in the house saying urgently, "I need to save a chicken". He had looked out the window and seen a chicken caught in the fence. I went out to help him. The poor bird had gotten her foot stuck on some barbed wire, and was actually hanging upside down attached by her foot. Her right eye had been pecked out by her barbaric companions. And it was, you guessed it, our poor lone Aracauna.

I was tempted to kill her then and there. I just didn't know how she could survive, and I hated seeing her like this. But when I looked in her good eye, it was clear and alert. So we put her in seclusion. She kept getting out. We kept putting her back in. She got out. We gave up. She wanted to be out, and by golly she was going to be out!

The increased handling she has had due to all her traumas has really tamed her, and she lets us pet her now. Yesterday, she was settling in for the night on the front porch (she still doesn't like sleeping with those meanies in the hen house), and I walked up to give her a little love and encouragement. She looked at me with her bright healthy eye. I peeked around to see how the scab was healing on her missing eye... and she looked at me with her OTHER bright healthy eye! I couldn't believe it! Our little miracle bird.

The children have named her Oreo. Lucky girl is here to stay... only animals we aren't planning to eat get names.

A December to remember

As we headed into December this year, our family eagerly anticipated the traditions of Advent and, in our home school, a special month of study revolving around the Christmas story. We pulled out the Advent wreath, a new Advent story/devotional, and Sunday November 27 we welcomed Advent 2005.

Our first week of our Christmas Unit Study started out wonderfully. We had a special Advent circle time, Farmer Boy (grade 3) started a Christmas Study Journal, and both children enjoyed making angel crafts using outlines of their hands and feet. I felt like a Good Mother.

Imagine my (bleary-eyed) surprise, then, to awaken on December 1st, after just a few restless hours of sleep on a chair-bed, in my husband's hospital room. The afternoon before, a bad bout of "gas" after a lentil soup lunch had proven to be more than even my stout-hearted husband could handle, and despite much protestation, we took him to the ER. A good thing, as he had an incarcerated hernia... a potentially life-threatening situation (and definitely not caused by lentil soup). Poor Stephen endured hours of tests, uncomfortable poking and prodding, and the horrors of a naso-gastric tube that evening.

First thing on Dec. 1 he had surgery to repair the hernia. My brother and a friend helped by caring for the children so that I could be with Stephen in the hospital. We brought him home the night of Dec. 2.

The next few days were rather anxiety filled for me. It is amazing how fast patients are pushed out of hospitals these days. I am all for getting out of the hospital, but it is rather a bit of pressure on the healthy spouse to send someone home who isn't breathing properly and takes 5 minutes to bend enough to get into a car.

It soon came to light that Stephen is one of the extremely rare people who has a reaction to steri-strips. The blisters that the steri-strips caused ended up being more problematic than the incision. When all was said and done he had a rather quick recovery, thankfully, and now we are the Bionic Couple (he has a mesh tummy and I have a titanium marker in my right breast from a breast biopsy).

I have found a silver lining to the Great Hernia Adventure. During Stephen's receovery period, when he couldn't drive, I learned how to drive the tractor and move bales of hay. This was MUCH fun!! I was nervous at first, but once I understood which buttons and levers did what, I had a blast. :-)



Stephen took a week off work, then things began to get back to normal. Farmer Boy was in the local Christmas parade with his Scout troop. Both children were in the Christmas play at our church Christmas party. And despite the hospital detour, we managed to quickly find our place again in our Christmas study, and finished out the school year just where I'd hoped.

As we headed into the days before Christmas, while I was more tired than usual, I felt that things seemed to be falling into place (except for the mess in the house which continued to plague me).

On the Thursday before Christmas, before heading into the city to do some errands, Stephen tried to remove the broiler element from our stove, which was malfunctioning. After some difficulty, he succeeded, immediately produced a blinding flash, a puff of white smoke, and little balls of molten metal bouncing on the wood floor. Miraculously, he wasn't hurt! Then ensued two days of unsuccessful searching for the part (even "finding" it, only to discover that the company changed the design but not the part number!). By Friday night (the 23rd) it was becoming clear we were not going to be cooking Christmas dinner in our kitchen.

Saturday morning (the 24th), at around 8:30am, we phoned my parents, who had already gone to Austin to visit with my brother. We all agreed to move the festivities to his house. The children had gotten over their disappointment at not being home and had begun to get excited about a sleepover at Uncle Dave's. I started packing up food and recipes, gifts and clothes. We decided that I would start the dough for our annual Christmas breakfast braid, it would rise in the car, be baked at Dave's house and be done in time for us to go to the church my mom had found in the phone book.

We were almost packed, and I had just finished the dough and started the rise. It was 15 minutes before we were to leave. The phone rang: "Don't leave yet, Dave's throwing up." Within a half hour it was clear my brother was really sick. Plan B switched to Plan C. My parents, not wanting to get sick, decided to leave, but just in case they were exposed enough, they didn't want to get US sick. Everyone was going to spend Christmas at their own houses. Round 2 of unhappy children.

The dough for the braid ended up being the chickens' special breakfast, and we humans ate store bought muffins on Christmas morning.



We all decided we would reschedule our celebration to Tuesday the 27th. Christmas night, the Princess woke up throwing up, and spent the next two hours back and forth from bed to bathroom. The next day she and I both felt terrible, and my brother's wife was sick. We rescheduled yet again. Plan D: Friday the 30th. Round 3 of unhappy children.

Wednesday, Farmer Boy had a very short bout of throwing up, but was better within a few hours. We were on track for Friday; we were hopeful! Wednesday night the Princess spiked a 102.6 fever. Aaaaarggh!

In the middle of all this, I was very worried about getting sick, becasue I am pregnant. Lots of vitamin C, water, and prayer seemed to help, because I did not throw up (danger of dehydration) nor did I run a temp (can be dangerous for the baby), despite being in constant contact with a very sick little girl. I did have two days of feeling really weird, but never with dangerous symptoms.

All day Thursday the girl ran a low grade fever. She really wanted to go her grandparents' and they decided they could live with a temp of less than 100. So Thursday night we set off. Miraculously, by the time we got there her fever was gone! She was fine on Friday (although that was one of MY low days) and we finally had our many times delayed big family gathering. It was very nice, and much more relaxing for me than it would have been at my house, thanks to the love and sacrifice of my wonderful parents. On Saturday, my dad even took care of the kids while Mom and I went to a movie!! It wasn't as relaxing for Stephen, who only stayed one day and night because of our animals. But the children and I were there for three days and three nights.

The year ended quietly for us. Stephen was home, and I was at my parents'. We were all tired, so did not do anything special. But for me it was lovely... a clean house, a quiet room, time to read. These are great joys for me, so 2006 rang in in peace, and with a loving phone call with my sweet husband at midnight.

I am looking forward to another year of adventures!

Babies!!!

So, now we have five calves (here are three of them):



And a few weeks ago these two mama hens hatched out five chicks:



But the biggest news of all is that at the end of June, there will be another little person around here who might look like this:




We're all excited that I'm pregnant!

And yes, we have been teased about living on "Fertile Farm".

A vacation destination!

Look! We're becoming a vacation destination!

A hypothetical, apocolyptic, science fiction vacation that is. ;-)

Ben is a dear friend from my university days at Brown. He's morphed from a brilliant tender-hearted long-haired computer programming theologizing kid, to a brilliant tender-hearted short-haired computer programming theologizing husband, father, and internationally known science fiction writer.

Ben, our friend Ila, and I were housemates in 1990/91 while we were students at Brown. Our house was a happy place to be, filled with the yummy smells of creative vegetarian cooking. We decorated with fourth-hand furniture, books and papers galore, a goofy black lab puppy named Lucy, and chore charts in which we rotated turns at being characters from the TV show Twin Peaks. You can see that Ben's experience creating alternate universes began early.

Ben has awed me by his decision to return to writing. He has been very dedicated and intentional about it: he prioritizes writing and regularly makes time for it in his schedule. After all, the guy has a full time programming job and a busy family with two young children. Yet he finds time to write well enough to be published all over the place and earn nominations for the Hugo and Nebula awards.

Of course, if he is helping build a stockade on our farm (see the "vacation" itinerary referenced in the above interview), heavens only knows in what state we might end up. Will we find ourselves "falling straight into the beam of the strange pulsar Yoruba-7, into its great burst, not only of electromagnetic radiation, but also of chronons, the quantum particles of time" like the peaceful folk of Ylla's Choice? Or will he succumb to a mixture of my Christian mysticism and Stephen's pragmatic environmentalism and join us in praying over the zombies as we stand on a wall of recycled aluminum cans?

Either way I know we'll all laugh a lot.

Carla Emery

An icon of the modern homesteading movement died last night.

Carla Emery Delong was a passionate advocate of sustainability and self-sufficency. Her "Encyclopedia of Country Living" had 9 editions, many of which were put together by hand by Carla in the early days.

Her book was the first homesteading book I owned. This summer I drove an hour and a half to hear her talk, and worked up the courage at the end to ask her to sign that book. I'm so glad I drove, so glad I asked.

Carla Emery's legacy would be difficult to quantify... but I know it is rich and wide. She has influenced countless adults over several generations. Adults who have tried to put her ideas into practice and pass them on to their children. Each person who has made changes to live more gently due to her words, has contributed to her gift to the community of humans on this earth.

Rest in peace, Carla.

Cool Breezes

Our record high this year was 108 degrees Fahrenheit. That was on September 25. It's about all the effect we got from Hurricane Rita, besides mild wind, gas and grocery shortages, and tens of thousands of evacuees.

This morning we woke up to 57 degrees. We had gone to sleep with the windows open, so I padded around at 6:30am closing them and pulling more blankets on the kids. It felt GREAT! I had on shorts and a thin long sleeve shirt. Stephen put on his usual t-shirt and shorts.

Then the Texans woke up. Born and raised Texans, our kids are the offspring of Yankees. We're people who swam in 57 degree water in the Atlantic. Sure it was cold, but that was the point, right? Cooling off!

This morning the Texans (our kids) put on pants and long sleeved shirts. Then jackets. Then knit hats (one put on a ski mask). Then mittens. I checked the indoor thermometer. It was 66.

We giggled at them, and I recalled one early summer in Rhode Island, when I was about 10. My brother and I desperately wanted to play with our new slip-and-slide. We begged my mom, who, after much pestering, finally agreed that we could play with it when the temperature hit 70. So we stood around in our bathing suits, peering at the thermometer and hoping for it to inch up just a bit.

All depends on your perspective, eh?

Poem by Farmer Boy (age 8)

God is With You

Do not worry, do not fear,
God is with you right here.
If you worry if you fear,
say this poem through the year.
God is here, God is there,
God is with you everywhere.

First calf of 2005

Look what I discovered this evening as I fed the goats!!!



Here he is with his Mama:



He is very young, a day or less I'd guess. Still a little wobbly. He is soooooo cute!

We're a bit (!) behind the rest of the cow breeding world, to whom common sense has dictated that the best month to birth calves in Texas is NOT August, often the hottest and driest month of the year. Our scientific method of breeding our girls consists of letting them live with a bull, and, uh, well, that's it. This clever method does afford happy little surprises, like the cutie above. It is also extremely easy (at least for the humans).

And there are definitely more on the way! There were some heavily laden and hungry girls out there tonight. Mooooo!

A Real Life

Back at the beginning of the summer, a childhood friend of mine read the blog for the first time. We now live 2000 miles away from each other, so she e-mailed me and asked me what I meant in my blog subtitle by "a real life". This spurred a good month of really thinking about the question.

Unfortunately, I think I offended her. I never meant the title to imply that someone not living on a farm is not living a real life! I still think that "learning to live a real life" captures very much what we are trying to do here. But let me say to all of you... we each are on our own journey home and living it as fully as possible is living a real life, in my opinion. That long walk will be as different for each of us as we are from one another.

Here's what it means to me:

I want to be more connected with the people in my life. I want to fully enjoy the beauty of creation. I want to know where my food comes from and I want it to taste delicious. I want to take risks and I want to make mistakes. I want to experience getting hurt then healing, and finding greater strength for it.

I don't want to watch life on TV, I want to be there. I want it to happen to me, and I want to be scared and overjoyed. I don't want to take things for granted. I want to touch my bread before it is baked. I want to really know my kids. I want to struggle with my husband over little things and big things, and learn how to sacrifice for him, and ask for forgiveness, and grow in humility. And throw my arms around him because he is my husband and I love him.

I don't want to be in an emotional place where at the end of the day I feel I have to turn on the TV or a movie to escape from my life. I want to dig in and live it, right through the conflicts, the cactus thorns in my hand, the sunsets, the kisses, the accidents, the downy baby chicks, the stinky chicken litter, the goats getting out, the wasps in the house, the warm snuggles from a 3 year old in the middle of the night.

I want to be here. Right now.

That's my idea of a real life.

I don't think you have to live on a farm to take that in and try it. Be there. Listen to those people you love with all of yourself. Make something from scratch. Pick flowers for no reason. Bring a little beauty into someone else's life by giving them the gift of YOU. Stop being so scared.

It's all about the love, baby...

Full Summer

Missed the entire month of July, and I'm coming close to missing August, so it's time to post!

My absence from the blog was mostly due to my absence from the computer. The summer has been a busy one of house guests (including an extended visit from the Horse Whisperer, our niece from New York), and trying to get organized. We have put some new systems in place that seem to be working, and while I doubt I will ever feel like I am actually on top of things (there's ALWAYS something more to be done), I no longer feel like everything is completely out of control!

New animals to the farm include Joe, a 2 year old palomino apaloosa:



The HW has been working with him, hoping to train him and resell him as a started horse. He is showing promise as a cutting horse. He is fast and can turn quickly.

We also got 50 broiler chicks in early June:



Who now are 25 big fat chickens:



The other 25 are dead, most of them by our hands last Saturday (murderers!). We're getting better at the whole slaughtering process, better in the sense of faster and more efficient. Slaughter remains the least pleasant of all the farm duties. I confess I still have not done the actual killing myself, although I am in charge of the other end. I am now the resident evisceration queen. Yuck.

Three of the horses who have been part of our farm life, who were also horses with whom the HW has been working, were sold last Saturday. Hank, Chester and Cherokee left us, we pray to happy homes.

Hank:



Chester:



Cherokee:



Saturday was an emotional day... horses moving away, chickens dying.

As for the humans, by far the most complex and high maintenance animals on the farm, we are all well. The HW is here with us from mid-May to early Sept, so her stay is coming to a close. Today we took her to Cavender's Boot City, but she was unable to find boots or a hat for suitable Texan souvenirs.

Farmer Boy has spent most of his summer shirtless and muddy. A fine summer for an 8 year old! His best friend, who now lives in PA, visited for 12 days this summer, along with his parents and 4 siblings. It was a wonderful reunion for all of us, lots of laughter and kids and food.

The Princess is settling into her role and has rejected from her wardrobe all items of clothing that are not pink, purple, red or yellow. She finds she must change outfits at least twice a day in order to insure that she is suitably clean, and that the social requirements of the moment are met. She mostly prefers to wear her Sunday dresses and her fairy dress. We've had to set some rules about what can be worn to play outside! Despite her ladylike dress code, she can hold her own with the animals, as well as her brother, although I overheard a very funny conversation this afternoon at the park:

FB's 7 year old friend: "Princess! Come on up here and play with us!"
The Princess: "No, you're too wild."
Friend: "Pshaw! That's how boys are supposed to be!"

I am not making this up. She really said "too wild" and he really said "pshaw".

Stephen keeps busy planning farm projects and running into virtually insurmountable obstacles. If it wouldn't exhaust me I'd try to write down the details. Suffice to say, that I have reopened the discussion of naming the place "Snafu Farm." He manages to squeeze this into a 40+ hour week at his off farm job.

And I have directed most of my extra energy toward getting a Mama stress reduction system in place. I've had some health concerns this summer and have given up caffeine as a result. Lo and behold, I can no longer get by on 5 hours of sleep. So I have had to figure out how to find time for at least 7, as well as a 10 minute nap in the afternoon. In addition, I needed some way to keep on top of the housework and farm chores so that I did not feel like I was living in constant chaos. It's not a perfect system that we've got, but it is better than before. We start school on Aug.29, so we shall see how the system holds up as we shift gears back to our school schedule. I can't believe FB is going into 3rd grade... our fourth official year of home schooling.

No real animal news. Snowy the doe was not pregnant. So no goat milk. But in a way it is good. We really are not properly set up for it, and we have agreed not to get any more goats until we have a better location for them and a new shelter (part of which will be the milking area).

In general Stephen and I are both weary of regularly dealing with animal management problems due to poor facilities. None of the animals (expect the cows) are currently living where we'd ultimately like them to be. We are trying to sort out the basic framework of our vision, so we can break it down into attainable tasks. Until that time, we really don't want to add any more animals.