W is for winter

Happy first day of winter!!

from field to fork

I finally had enough down time this past weekend to watch a movie I've been wanting to see for quite some time - Food, Inc. As an Ag Business major in college who has worked for some of the countries largest agricultural companies, who was married to a production farmer for 15 years, and who has since turned agrarian homesteader I was impressed with the information given in the movie.

It was also sad to see how far we (farmers) have fallen. Saddened because this is an industry that I fell in love with almost 30 years ago, grew up with really, and have since separated from because I can no longer identify with or condone many of its practices.

It was just past my 9th birthday when I spent the summer at a cousins farm in a small town in the middle of Missouri. Joe had a few hundred acres and raised cattle and hogs, corn, wheat and alfalfa. Each morning I would go with him to "take care" of the animals. My job was to sit in the back of a flatbed truck and throw flakes of hay over the sides for the cattle. This was no feedlot operation, but cows on pasture with hay as a supplement. When we finished we would pick up a load of feed and fill big hoppers in the pig pens. Even though the pigs were not on pasture or rummaging around wooded areas they were out in the sun with plenty of mud holes to wallow in.

When the time was right we cut and baled alfalfa. Because I was not big enough to stack hay on the trailers I got to sit on the tractors wheel covering and watch the whole thing like a bird high up in its nest. The view was great. I loved being outside, the smell of fresh cut hay, picking corn off the stalks to take home for dinner. Even when the occasional animal died, a fact of reality on a farm, I was not put off by the experience. Not even a little.

Every few days we would stop by the farm next door, a dairy, full of black and white cows munching on cool green pastures. We'd stop just after the afternoon milking was finished, I'd take our stainless steel milk pail to the cooling room and out of the biggest tank I'd ever seen I would pour us a gallon of milk. Fresh and ice cold, milked from the cows just moments before, I had never tasted anything like it. I couldn't drink the milk right then, we had to wait for the cream to separate so it could be skimmed off and made into butter. This was the full on, unadulterated, unpasteurized real stuff - smooth and creamy.

Once a month Joe and I would go to the sale yard to sell hogs or cattle that were ready for market. When we weren't at the yards we were taking grain to the mills or visiting other local farmers either on their farms or at their local gathering places, small cafes or coffee shops where locals would meet to talk shop, farm subsides, politics and the like. It was here, between the summer chores and the small town talk, that I fell for this world of farming. I loved the people, the places, the smells, the work. You name it I was hooked.

At night, Joe and I, would listen to farm radio programs for weather updates, market prices, harvesting info and news. Even at nine I was beginning to understand that there was more to getting food to my table in California than just stopping by the store, there were people I'd would never see, places I'd never visit, trucks and trains involved in the whole process that I didn't know anything about. But, on that farm in the hot humid mid-west summer I knew I wanted to know, wanted to learn, wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be a farmer!

Over the next years I honed my skills raising livestock in 4-H, managing the sheep unit at the junior college I attended and eventually majoring in Ag Business. I had dreams of living on a farm, speaking out for the culture that I so admired and most of all teaching people how important it was that we all understand how food gets from the fields to our dinner tables.

But, after I met and married my farmer I realized that the quaint picturesque farming world I had in my head, that I had experienced as a child was far from accurate. I was stunned how stewardship of the land was set aside in favor of increased profits; how simple organic solutions to fertilizer and weed control was met with contempt and ridicule and how farm workers were treated with disrespect. All the while people in the ag community of which I now belonged praised themselves for being modern productive producers, able to push their land to higher and higher levels of production and returns.

It was during these years that I realized what I admired about the industry didn't exist. It was a figment of my imagination. I also realized that what I did admire, what was impressive to me were the growers who had abandoned conventional ag practices for a holistic approach. One that respected the land from which our food came, protected the water sources that fed crops and livestock and those who thought highly of the people working to feed our country. I realized that the kind of agriculture I admired was organic.

From what I've experienced I felt the movie was dead on, educating rather than scaring. And even though I enjoyed it I felt that it was preaching to the choir, and the people who really needed to see it probably never would. If you haven't yet seen it I encourage all of you to find a copy and watch it, for no other reason than to add validity to what we are trying to accomplish as small suburban homesteaders. I think you'll enjoy it. It's well worth you time.

Garden-minded

Gardening has been on my mind a lot lately. Late December is the time gardener’s start getting contemplative (antsy actually). We all know January is just around the corner: and that means it's almost time to order new seeds and dust off our hoes and shovels. We become garden-minded, letting our thoughts turn to peas and lettuce and carrots and corn, and turning the back half into a new pumpkin patch. Garden center numbers adorn the fridge. Our seed catalogs cover the coffee table. Our flats and seed beds come down from the shelves. We're gardeners and we want to get things going, now.

Yes, veggies are on my mind... But with winter still in full force - I don't know what to do with these thoughts. I want to start preparing the soil now, but I have no idea what’s in store for us on the weather front, nor have I finalized my plans for the new garden arrangement, and that means a little extra planning if I want to do it right and have a successful garden.

I’ve talked to friends and shared my predicament. They are sympathetic, but yearning as well. We are like-minded folks, spending days in our respective offices, but going home to our chickens and gardens and berries and trees. Our families are as involved and excited with our backyard homesteads as we are. We always have something to talk about when we catch each other on the phone.

I’ll think about ordering new seeds, little gems that will grow to grace my table. If the weather holds and winter lingers longer than normal I could just put up a few hoop houses and start some beds of cool weather loving seeds or build a couple of cold frames or plant later in the season.

I don’t think my friends had any idea how happy those few ideas made me. I did a little happy dance at the thought. When you live without a safety net you take little gifts as they come. I hope I never forget how good gratitude feels at 5:36 PM on a Wednesday.

living in the 23rd zone

I was a happy camper today! The storms have passed, the sky was blue, the sun was out and the temps hovered around 65 most of the day. These are the days that make me glad to live in such a temperate climate. Forget about the smog, the traffic, the road rage and all those people. These are the days we live for – warm and sunny in the middle of December. Sometimes I lament about not having seasons and the holidays not feeling very merry. Let’s face it it’s hard to hear songs like White Christmas or Let it Snow with no white stuff on the ground. But not today! Today was made for gardening and I was out in it.

After working for a few hours and running errands in town, I spent the afternoon taking care of some much needed garden keeping. The storms hadn’t caused any damage which was a good thing. I let the chickens out to scratch around in the soft wet dirt, digging up worms and any other treats they could find. They seemed happy being out in the wide open spaces of the garden, running and squawking, flapping their wings. They were funny chasing each other then suddenly stopping to investigate something in the dirt.

I’ve decided to change the garden a bit, so I can maximize the space and increase my production. Pea and bean fencing that was used last year was taken down and stored on the side of the house. I have arbors running down the garden like a central alley, by attaching fence panels to the arbors I can plant longer double rows of peas and beans, then switch to other climbing veggies like cucks, squash and mini pumpkins, using the beds they use to be in for better rotation. I got a few up, but need to get more. When the other panels are up I’ll plant a variety of peas – snap sugar, shelling and oriental. Around the base there should be room for greens, and other salad makings. Broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower and brussel sprouts can be stared indoors and raised as transplants till planting time. And of course, weeding still goes on here in winter, never any relief from that.

I’ve lived in So Cal most of my life, seen much change in our area, from a farm and ranch area to suburban sprawl I’ve lived to watch it all closing in. With my farm girl sensibilities and a desire for more land I often think about moving to more wide open places with fewer people or maybe it’s more people, just with similar minds. Talking homesteading or simple living brings strange looks from people who are accustomed to Starbucks three times a day or daily meals out. They just don’t get it.

Like the song says, “…the sun’ll come out tomorrow…” I hope so, ‘cause I’m having fun here in the 23rd zone!

let sleeping dogs lie

Dakota sacked out for the afternoon. Lucky guy!

mother nature is fickle…

…she taunts us and toys with us, raises our hopes then grinds us into the dirt. And she’s at it again. I woke this morning to blue skies, the kind of sky that greets me in the spring and summer months. It was clear and fresh, washed clean by four days of steady rain. The temps were higher today, nearly 60. The kind of day that makes you want to go out and plant a new bed of salad greens or start that building project you’ve been putting off, but suddenly you remember its December, been raining, cold and the outside world can be a fickle bitch right now. As much as I’d like to be down on my knees digging in the dirt I hold myself back, telling myself that it’s a death wish to plant much of anything this time of year.

I satisfied my lust for gardening by paging through the seed catalogs I’d already received, circling and marking varieties of beets, beans, lettuce, corn and squash I want to plant in the spring. I poured over descriptions of new vegetable varieties to see if anything peaked my interest.

The more I travel down this path of homesteading the more I find myself paying closer attention to weather reports than any other kind of news. From first thing in the morning till late in the evening I haunt the radio for news on what’s in store for us on the weather front. As farmers we live by it (the weather), plant by it, harvest by it, care for our animals by it. It’s what helps make us a success as a homesteader or a complete failure. After a while we learn to “read” the weather, a coming rain storm might make us tingle or our body feels the pressure before the onset of a heat wave. It’s strange to know (feel) the weather before it hits, but it also helps us prepare for it.

As the morning drew on, clouds rolled in over the mountains to the north. Dark and gray, they had an ominous look to them. The next wave of storms I suspect. At mid-morning I put together a pot of split pea soup and made a loaf of pumpkin bread, (lunch for the coming week), and settled into a quiet day at home, just me, the dogs and a good movie. By night fall sprinkles returned and it looks like my trip north will be postponed once again.

I like this weather though, as much as I’d like to be out in the dirt, the rain suits me just fine.

a rainy 4-H potluck

What a great evening we had at the potluck! We just got home and are still warm from all the laughing. It’s been raining off and on all day, but the storm let up as we arrived. The cars and trucks parked out front of our host family’s home let us know we would be in good company tonight. I parked and Brianne grabbed our salad from the back seat while I gathered up the bag of toppings and dressing.

Inside the home was full of children running around, a decorated tree, covered dishes laid out in buffet style on a pine kitchen table. There was hot chocolate and apple cider (which I gravitated to like a moth to the flame) and friendly faces I haven’t seen since our county fair in August. Sandy, my co-club leader was there decked out for the season, and Angela was manning the homemade pizza station. For a moment this afternoon I thought about not going. The rain has been horrid all day and the thought of driving was unappealing (even if it was only 10 miles), but how could we have miss this? I walked our salad over to the table and joined the ladies in conversation.

When we joined the club Brianne was 5 years old. The only projects she was allowed to take were gardening and poultry, but that was enough to get her started on what will be a life long trip into farm living.

When I wasn't talking I'd stop and look around the walls of our host’s home. Photos of the kids working with their chickens and turkeys, ribbons of prizes won at past county fairs, drawings of new building projects for expanding their rabbitry lined the walls of the family room. And I was here in a rain storm, after a long busy week and ending it with a hot meal prepared by friends in a celebration of community. There's feeling lucky, there's feeling blessed, and then there's being part of a community. What could be better?

After dinner, all the kids crowded into the living room for the gift exchange. The young kids wiggled with excitement and the older kids smiled probably remembering how they felt when they were that age. They each drew a number out of a basket to find out who got to choose a gift first. I was a spectator setting on a window seat, as each member agonized over which colorfully wrapped gift was the best.

Those of us with older children made the night social. I talked with my friends, Sandy and Angela. Sandy has been in the club as long as I have, our girls started at the same time. I also got to become better acquainted with other parents who I don’t know well because our kids are not in the same projects, like Gwen and Kathy. Gwen is from Sweden who teaches our entomology project, talked about traditions in the old country and how they try to keep them alive here, but when I mentioned the gigantic (completely gross) bug that keeps popping up in my garden each spring her ears perked up. After a bit of research, complements of Angela’s extensive library, turns out my prehistoric looking alien is a harmless member of the cricket family.

We talked chickens and turkeys, pigs, sheep, gardening, and moving farther into a more self-reliant life. And may have even convinced Kathy to raise a few meat birds, just to see how they like it. Angela let it be known that she had a source for fresh milk and promised to put me in touch with them. I’m excited about that. We also made plans to contact a sustainable farm for a club field trip, hopefully when the kids are out for winter break.

One of the parents handed everyone a goodie bag and we said our good-byes with hugs and good wishes and headed home. There was barely a drizzle, the air was clean and sweet, but damn, we were glad to get back to the farm. Gatherings like this make me feel lucky to be part of a group that has been around for over 100 years…that has taught thousands of young people how to raise livestock, cook, sew, work wood, live self-reliantly and much, much more. The world seems a little shaky right now - but God willing we will be able to take what we’ve learned to make it through.

One thing I do know is that this organization taught me the skills that still keep me moving toward a life of self-reliant living and it’s now teaching my daughter those same lessons. No matter how long it takes it is a dream worth having. This is where I learned to raise sheep taking me into a 30 year love affair with a woolly, not so bright, completely amazing animal. It’s where I have met some of my best friends and ardent supporters. Oh, there have been trials and tribulations along the away as any youth club can have, but it has made me the person I am today and it will have a strong hand in molding my daughter into the woman she is to become.

(the photo is of the 50th anniversay commemorative stamp from the national 4-H organization)

club potluck tonight!

It's gonna be a big day today, so much to do. It will include a trip to the feed store, baking gingerbread, making a potluck dish and six chickens. More on the chickens later. I just wanted to drop a note sharing how excited I am about our 4-H Clubs Christmas Potluck tonight. These are all great families with interests in all things homesteading. Who would have thought so many suburbanites with dreams of a more self-sufficient farm life would land in the same place.


It's raining right now and the farm is drinking it up fast. Tonight is going to be amazing, I can feel it in my bones.

a warm fire, carols, cards and decking the halls

The holiday spirit is in full swing here at the farm. A wreath adorns the front door, welcoming all who visit; a fire roars, warming the room and adding to the ambiance of the evening; carols turned up loud on XM radio keep everyone in a festive mood and the tree is coming along. Each ornament pulled from its protective box reminds us of places we’ve been and vacations we’ve enjoyed. There’s moose and bears from trips to the mountains, additions to our sheep collection bought during a trip to VT and countless treasures given to us by friends and family. We reminise as we hang each one on the tree, laughing and telling stories of our adventures. Greeting cards thanking friends for their support of what we do on the homestead are ready for the post.

The storm still rages outside, but we are warm, happy, singing, and thankful for this simple life we have chosen to pursue.

Life is good.

lightening crashes, thunder rolls...

...and the wicked storm blows in, hollowing winds (at least 40 MPH with gusts to 50), inches of rain by the minute, treacherous roads, and a couple of tired dogs at my feet, warm and toasty at home.

More to come...I have no doubt.

how cool is this...

I ran by Border's Books to pick up my dad's Christmas gift, Ken Burns' documentary of the Lewis & Clark expeditions. Of course being the book fiend that I am I can't leave without taking a run through the store and naturally I end up at the farming and gardening sections. I found this book perched on the top shelf like it was waiting for me to discover it. It's not a new book, been out a few years, but I've never seen it before. So I found myself a chair, sat down to flip through it. It's fabulous and fun, portrait style photos of champion sires and dams from a variety of breeds (mostly English and French). The photographer is from the fashion world, the author a vet at a vet medicine school. The photos are beautiful and some of the breeds I'd never seen before.

It was fun to sit there and think back to the days when I had a barn full of sheep, and December wasn't just about holiday parties and presents. It was the beginning of our lambing season . New life came to our farm between the Christmas morning breakfast, the gift giving and the evening eggnog. Fun times folks!


What a great gift for any sheep loving friend.

save & sow seeds

After I returned the Beautiful Sheep book to its shelf I turned around to see if anything caught my eye in the gardening section. How silly is that? A homesteader finding a gardening book they'd like to have.

Instead of a book I found this garden in a box. They're packets of favorite seeds in a recipe box set-up with directions on planting and saving and storing your own seeds for future use. Another great gift idea.

Man, I may have to have a Christmas wish list after all.

the coming storm!

Winter has come in with a vengeance, at least for this area that is. We’ve had freezing temps every night this week. So far my winter crops have come through unscathed. Another big storm is headed our way, slated to hit sometime tonight. The hills in the distance are still capped white from our last one, making a beautiful frame for a little valley.

I’ll spend the day making sure everything is ready, this storm is predicted to last 4 or 5 days. I’ll make sure the coop is bedded down with enough straw to keep the girls up off the cold ground, that we have enough feed to get us through. I don’t want to make any spur of the moment trips to town. I’ll check that the grapes, berries and fruit trees are still securely tied so the wind doesn’t up-root them. With the amount of rain we’re suppose to get coupled with the fierce winds that usually arrive on the backside of our winter storms, up-rooted trees is a big worry. And, I’ll lay more mulch around the winter veggies.

My trip to pick up our freezer lamb will be postponed till next week, I’m not risking getting stuck on the other side of the mountain pass, unable to get home if they close the road (which happens often).

Most people around here are bemoaning the coming storm, you hear them everywhere, at the market, the gas station, even the feed store, but not me, I’m excited. I’ll be home with a warm fire blazing, a pot of hot soup bubbling on the stove and enough time on my hands to finally finish some of my undone projects.

Nope – this is all good stuff, folks. Rain, fire, soup and a few quiet days, what could be better?

after the storm

Our first real rain of the season was a doosey yeaterday (and boy did we need it), the sky mottled with clouds of blues and greys, whites and silver dripped steadily all day. I like a slow and stready rain, it has time to soak deep into the dirt instead of running off. We get so little of it here no sense in having it wasted. Local streams and lakes show signs of months gone too long without the wet stuff. Watching it soak up every drop was like watching a parched man in the desert finally get a drink.

The cloud cover broke in the late afternoon leaving the sky a brillent crystal blue. The hens ventured out from their warm coop. I watched them from the kitchen window scratching in the dirt looking for tastey tidbits brought to the surface by the rain. Birds returned from their protective hideouts splashing and twittering in puddles made in the low spots of an empty garden.

The landscape takes on a new look after a storm, it's refreshed and quenched. But, it won't last long; we've been in a drought for a while now and it will take many more storms like this to bring us back to normal. That's ok with me though. I like these days of cloud filled skies and growing puddles.

Makes me want to sing "Here Comes the Rain".

baskets and blessings

Last night I went to the most amazing event. My good friend and quilting buddy, Bridget, invited me. Baskets to Blessings is a major fundraising event for her church that helps support a local food pantry, a child shelter and a teen transition center. When we arrived, the parking lot was overflowing with cars and the line was out the door. We had already purchased tickets and were let right in. The lobby was festively decorated and the atmosphere was so upbeat. Any tension I felt from my busy day quickly abated as we waded our way through the crowd to the basket display area.

The ladies had spent months gathering donated items to fill the most amazing decorated baskets I have ever seen. We had little over an hour to wander through and place our raffle tickets in baskets we hoped to win in the drawing later that night. I had to chuckle watching the whole scene, grown women acting like kids in a candy store, trying to decide which baskets would be the recipients of their prized ticket. But that was nothing to hysterical tone when we gathered for the ticket drawing and holiday skit. We laughed and clapped and cheered as each winning ticket was drawn. The MC and her cohort were like a comedy act bantering back and forth as they drew each ticket. When the especially prized "Hen Pecked" basket came up the MC went off on a tangent about her own chicken raising days, i just smiled and a warm connected feeling came over me for a few minutes. I must admit I was disappointed not to win that basket, but I took comfort in the fact that I had lent a hand (and a few dollars) to making the evening a huge success.

I didn't win a basket last night, they didn't call my name. But, I had a great evening of fun and laughter and friendship. I met new people, saw old friends and helped support a few local charities to boot. What a way to start off the Holiday season! I look forward to going next year, and, you never know I might even come home a winner.

garden clubs and flower shows

This weekend was the local garden club flower show and table setting competition. They hold one every December at the local library. I arrived at the show a little after 4:00. The crowd in the lobby of the library let me know I was not alone in my temporary detour of holiday shopping. The day was cool and overcast. Last night’s news announced an incoming storm, but it hasn’t arrived yet. I removed my coat and took a long look around. The community room was full of tables displaying each exhibitor’s entry. There were classes for horticulture (cut specimens), decorated items like wreaths and swags. But, the stars of the show were the table settings, place settings and floral arrangements, big elaborate displays for holiday gatherings, intimate dinners and trays by the fire. The judging had already taken place by the time I arrived, so each entry was adorned with their respective ribbon.

Out in the lobby there was a plant sale, a fundraiser for the club. I gravitated to it like a bee to flowers. I always enjoy the clubs’ plant sales, they have been a great and inexpensive help in filling my flowerbeds. The ladies have such an interesting variety it’s hard to walk away empty handed. There were plenty of familiar faces. Some of the ladies I have known since childhood.

I was six years old when I entered my first flower show, just a year after we moved to this area. My mom had joined the local garden club as a way to meet new people. Little did she know that it would turn into a family affair, lasting more than 30-years. I can still remember that first entry. It was a dish garden, a foot-long rectangular dish arranged with flowers and shrubs. It had a pond with ducks and fence; a little barn in the corner. Even back then I was a farmer at heart.

As I strolled through the room looking over the exhibits I stopped and visited with the club ladies who worked on the show. Some of them still remembered me entering flower shows well into my teen years; I remembered those who taught me the correct way to display my cut specimens and those who taught me my flower arranging skills. It was like spending the afternoon with distant family members you only see a few times a year. Here I was on a cloudy winters’ day, with long time friends and a cup of hot tea celebrating the art of beautiful floral arrangements and a love of gardening. Part of me felt lucky, part of me felt blessed and then there was a part of me that felt part of a community, a community of women who enjoyed gardening as much as I did.

I didn’t enter this show and those of us who were just spectators listened intently as prize winners spoke of their exhibits like I speak of my daughter – proudly, lovingly. It was hard not to crack a smile when the conversation turned intense over the attributes of one table setting over another and whose roses were in the proper state of bloom to win the class. I tried to appear as impartial as possible but it’s hard when you’re put on the spot and asked for your opinion. Whenever the talk got heated I would comment on how wonderful that the show committee had included a flutist and violinist for background music. The ladies are cute, but I felt like a referee. Flower shows are serious business you know.

When I walked over to the window to check on the weather Pat, the lady in charge of the plant sale, handed me several iris bulbs to take home. I gladly accepted them (I’m a sucker for irises). I said my goodbyes and headed home. I had nothing special planned for this evening, just a warm fire and a good book, but I was excited to get back to the farm. Events like this make me feel glad to have found a group of people I can relate to. I look forward to these quiet easy winter months, it gives me time to plan my garden and to dream of green things growing. I want to participate at next years show, attend club meetings and be part of the group again because there just aren’t enough of them around here.

And, if I’m lucky, I may walk away with a ribbon or two.

they can't all stay

I always try to be optimistic when it comes to raising animals. But, sometimes I'm a little bit too unrealistic. We hatched 8 chicks this past summer and it looked like, or at least I was hoping, they would all be hens. That's where I got overly optimistic. How could the entire hatch be hens?

Well, in a word, they're not. When I woke up this morning I laid in bed watching the sun break over the tree tops and listening to the roos sounding their morning ritual. Low and quiet, beneath the full grown rooster's crow I heard the distinct sounds of young males trying out their lungs. There were at least two. They're still too young for me to tell if they're rosters. Or, maybe it's just that I'm not real good at sexing chickens.

After I ran some errands in town I came home, cleaned the nesting boxes and bedded down the coop for a bit of cold weather that's coming our way. While I was working I could see at least three of the summer hatch with distinct rooster features. My hopes of replacing our aging hens is dwindling fast. I'll continue watching the others; and in the mean time figure out how to rid myself of so many roosters. I hate to admit it, but I can't keep them all.

Looking on the brighter side, though, I'll have to hatch more eggs. Darn:)!

from my window

We are back at it after a wonderfully busy holiday week. As I sit at my window, catching up on work and outlining a few new projects, the yard is covered with fallen leaves; an unexpected gift from a short wind storm earlier in the week. The scene is peaceful and sublime, a sharp contrast to last weeks activities. There’s a roaring fire, pushing back winter’s chill and Dakota is sacked out on his bed. Not much company for a working girl, but at least he’s quiet. Days like this give me a chance to reflect on all that we are able to do and all I have to be thankful for – sometimes even more so than I acknowledge in the moment.

I spent a few days working on my latest quilt. It’s a small farm scene (no surprise), about 40”x40”, a practice quilt for new skills like piecing triangles, blanket stitching and hand-quilting. Much to my surprise the triangles actually came out with all points meeting. My neighbor laughed at my proud accomplishment when I told her. She’s a seasoned quilter, but can still enjoy the enthusiasm of a beginner.

Her husband delivered the piece of plywood I asked him to cut for my next project. But, that’s a surprise so I’ll write about it later. I’m very handy with power tools, but this particular project need some precision sawing that my hand-held circular saw and my shaky hand wouldn’t be able to pull off.

Thank God for good, generous, handy neighbors.

Normally I steer clear of holiday weekend shopping,but we braved the mall on Saturday. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The crowd was manageable. I guess all the 4:00am shoppers had gone home for a nap. We didn't buy anything, just enjoyed the decorations and sighed with contentment that we were long past this materialistic ritual.

On Wednesday I found a vintage trailer that I was interested in buying, so Sunday I drove north to check it out. No luck though, the owner wasn’t interested in negotiating and I thought the price was high for all the work that needed to be done. No loss though, the drive was beautiful and clear, and it was nice to get out-of-town, if only for a few hours. As for the trailer thing – I’ll keep looking.

Well – dinner’s ready, so I’ve gotta run. Hope all of you had a happy and thankful holiday!

happy thanksgiving, happy birthday!

Just wanted to shoot off a quick note and wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving! This is a busy one for us this year as my daughter’s birthday falls on turkey day as well. Actually, she was born on Thanksgiving evening, just as most families were finishing their pumpkin pie, I was receiving the best holiday gift ever – a healthy baby girl.

Tuesday night we had a house full of teens helping her celebrate. It was crazy, noisy, chaotic and a whole lot of fun. It’s so great to watch your kids grow into wonderful young adults; and equally wonderful to see that they have surrounded themselves with a great group of friends. After they all departed on Wednesday morning, Brianne and I had time to ourselves and continued the celebration.

Today is going to be a different day for me. Brianne will be with her dad and his side of the family, while I will spend time with a close friend that has flown out from Virginia for the week.

Over the weekend Brianne and I will cook our own version of Thanksgiving dinner so we too can enjoy some fabulous leftovers. We’ll watch our favorite holiday movies (like we have in past years), we’ll take a hike with the dogs, enjoying the fresh autumn air, we’ll sit by the fire, all the while savoring more slices of pumpkin pie than is good for us. It may not be a traditional Thanksgiving for us, but we'll enjoy it just the same.

Life is ever changing, I have learned. We must be open to those changes in order to enjoy life more fully, and to be ready for what ever goodness life wants to bring us.

Yes, this will be a different day for me, but I have no doubt it will be a good day.

Enjoy your holiday, no matter how you spend it!

life is not all about work...

…and neither is homesteading. It’s a point I try to make often to my more skeptical town friends. Sometimes even we homesteaders have those quiet lazy days where little is thought about and even less is accomplished. Yesterday was one of those days. We woke up late, about 7:30 (a luxury that is not afforded us when there are sheep in the barn). I could hear a young rooster trying to master his crow. The hens were scratching, and fluffing themselves in the dirt, chattering as hens always do. The dogs were on patrol. I could hear them in the bushes, sniffing and prowling about, looking for treasures. These are the kinds of mornings that beg you to stay in bed and quietly listen to the sounds of the farm. You can learn so much by just listening.

By the time I stumbled through the house, Brianne was already laid out on the sofa, buried under a mound of quilts making friendship bracelets and watching a movie I found at a local book sale a few weeks ago. Dakota was at her feet begging for more room to stretch out. Last nights fire was gone, but you could still hear crackles and pops as the embers cooled and died. It was dark and lonely, but could easily be revived with a little encouragement and a few pieces of kindling.

Breakfast was a steaming bowl of porridge, topped with nuts and brown sugar, bananas and milk. By the time it’s ready I’m on my second cup of tea (i’m not a coffee person...so not a coffee person), Earl Gray with a splash of milk and a bit of sugar. From the kitchen I can hear the twitter of birds. I don’t know what type; we have become a kind of way station for passersby’s. Some have a sharp trill in their voice, while others chirp on and on for quite awhile. The crows are back, I can hear their caw, caw, caw, but no sight of the red tailed hawk that perches himself on the arbor.

No – life is not always about work. Sometimes it’s about quiet, easy mornings, warm and safe in a simple home. Oh, don’t get me wrong, there will be work done this weekend, but it will be slower, less rushed, with less urgency for completion than other days. I have a few errands to run in town, the truck needs gas for the coming week, Brianne’s birthday is next week and I need a card, the nesting boxes in the coop need to be refilled and the floor raked out. There’s mulch to lie out in the garden and I want to finish the quilt I’ve been working on. Yes, there will be lots of work this weekend. But there will also be time for sitting back and listening to the sounds of this farm. Time for a second (or third) cup of tea, time for snuggling with a mangy dog trying to hog the sofa and time to just relish what we’ve built with our own two hands. No – life isn’t all about work. A lot of life is about paying attention and enjoying what comes our way, the fruits of our labor. And, if we get a few bumps and bruises or have to tend animals in the rain so be it.

starry sky

The night sky was so still and clear you could almost reach up and pluck out a star. Our weather has started to change. Finally! The warm days and high winds are gone. It's cool and crisp. Perfect for a warm fire. Leaves are turning color now. It's the way November should be.

seed catalogs!

I'm doing the happy dance!

New seed catalogs have started to arrive. Opening the mailbox is like peeking inside Santa's red velvet bag. There's excitement in the air. Gardeners and homesteaders know the feeling. A new season is on the horizon. I'm planning and plotting. With circles and turned down pages, my spring garden starts to take shape on a blustery November day.

It'll be months before we can plant. The wait will be long, but it will be worth it. Fresh homegrown veggies will be our reward.

I love this homesteading life, always something to look forward to, even if it is months away.

truck dog

Meet “Dakota” - a tri-colored Springer Spaniel we adopted from a local shelter, three years ago. He’s my companion when I’m alone, my protector from harm, my partner when I go hiking, my foot warmer on cold nights.

He’s my all around truck dog. He loves to “go” anywhere in the truck. His favorite spot is the front seat where he can look out the window, raise a paw for me to shake or rest his tired head on the console. On long trips he keeps me company and waits for me anxiously anytime I stop for gas or nibbles.

On the farm, he’s fine around the sheep, but not so good with the chickens. What can I say, he’s a bird dog.

lambs and livestock shows

This past weekend was our last show of the season. We have a few months off before we start showing all over again. But, it’s not a time for leisure. There are breeders to be visited, lambs to sort through, plans to talk about and deals to be made. When everything is said and done we’ll start the new season with at least four new critters in our barn. Some people think we’re nuts to spend so much time going from show to show. But, it’s what we do; it’s where our friends are; it’s where we have fun and it’s where our passions lie. I don’t think it’s any different than sitting on a soccer field every Sunday morning for months on end. It’s just what we do as a family, to stay on the right track and out of trouble.

I think it was inevitable that Brianne would raise sheep. After all she was in the barn with me when she was just a few weeks old and attended her very first sheep auction before she was 6 months old. We propped her up in her car seat on a stack of bailed straw and two darling, crotchety old sheep breeders watched her intently as I took my consignment of yearling rams across the auction block.

The barn is where she learned to climb fences without falling off; where she learned to feed and water; and where she learned the facts of life, both the birds and bees kind and the life and death kind. It’s where she got her passion for animals and her love of country living and farming.

She showed her first lamb at our county fair when she was nine. From that summer of working and feeding and practicing showmanship, and attending the county fair she was hooked. Now she raises five or six lambs a year and shows at a dozen or more weekend, county and state fairs each year.

I don’t think there’s any better combination than kids raising livestock – no matter what the species is. Kids learn how to care for another living creature. They learn responsibility through feeding, watering and cleaning their animals. They learn patients because animals, especially farm animals, don’t always do what you want them to do. And, they learn the difference between animals that are on our farms to produce and those that are here to feed us. Sometimes the lessons are tough. But, there is also a lot of joy in raising animals.

We’ve made a lot of really great friends through showing livestock and not just people who show sheep. The kids who show are wonderful. They’re polite and respectful. The kind of young people every parent wishes their teen would hang around with. They keep in touch through the internet and will likely end up at the same college’s together, becoming life long friends.

Kids, critters and competitions – it’s a great life!!

At the show Brianne won 4th and 5th in the market division and 2nd in showmanship. Pretty good end to the season.

i'm back again

Sorry for the lack of posting lately. But, you know how the saying goes, “Life comes at you fast.” And, boy! Can it ever, so I’ll backtrack a bit to get caught up.

As October was coming to a close, I spent the 30th with a good friend of mine who is teaching me to quilt. Actually, we started my quilt a year ago. Friday’s task was to pin the quilt top, batting and backing together. The quilt is a flannel rail fence pattern to fit my daughter’s full sized bed; something warm and snuggly for cold winter nights. I have no doubt it will also end up keeping her warm at football games and livestock shows this coming winter. Its funny how kids think their parents are so nutty with their likes and dislikes and new projects, but in reality they secretly appreciate the love and caring that goes into such projects.

My project was a little ambitious for a first-timer and it’s taken me almost a full year to complete my very first quilt. But, we did it!!! And, wanting some instant gratification – or almost instant – I sent the quilt off today to a quilter that my neighbor uses. It should be back by Christmas. In a few weeks my daughter will have something homemade to keep her toasty at night. I’m excited and hooked – on quilting. The next one is already started.

I don’t think, though, I’ll be an art quilter because I love the thought of taking something old and used and making it into something useful. Like the homesteaders of old used feed bags and flour sacks to keep their family warm. It’s just one more homesteading skill I’m learning.

Years ago I decided made a list actually, of the homesteading skills I’d like to learn. Each season I choose one to work on. Quilting was something I’ve been wanting to learn and I spent most of the summer on my project. There are so many aspects to homesteading, whether it’s suburban or country, that to try and learn everything at once would be overwhelming and a bit discouraging. Breaking it up by seasons has helped me make steady progress with the learning curve. I like to save home type project – sewing, knitting, and cooking, for the colder months when we spend a lot more time in doors. Building, gardening and animal skills are undertaken in the warmer months when much of our time is spent outside.

During my little hiatus this past week, I also received the cheese making kit I sent away for. We’ve had such a great time making homemade pizza dough for our Friday Movie Nights that I thought it would be fun to make our own cheese (and, something on my skills list). This will have to wait though because we have been madly getting ready for Brianne’s next sheep show. We leave on Wednesday.

After all the years I raised and showed sheep you’d think I could do this in my sleep, but no. There is so much to think about, not only getting animals ready, but getting ready to leave the farm for several days. Dogs, chickens and rabbits have to be cared for, veggies and fruit trees have to be watered, and I need to find people to do it. It’s not easy finding someone who is comfortable around strange dogs or farm animals for that matter, no matter how small they are. Some of my neighbors are afraid of the banties. But, I am lucky enough to have one neighbor and his kids, who love to come over and play with the chickens and especially collect eggs.

Halloween night turned crisp and cool, just the way it should be. I tried a new chicken and dumpling recipe that was a hit with everyone. Definitely a keeper. We had few trick-or-treaters, most people stay clear of our little street because it doesn’t have sidewalks or streetlights, but that’s what makes it unique and fun to live here. Even though we are considered part of the city we are so much different than the rest of it, we have the feeling of not being in the city at all.

I won’t bore you with the three days I was under the weather. But, I’m glad it didn’t turn out to be the flu. By Friday I was back to my old self and just in time too. Friday was the day of the library book sale. I live for small events like these. I don’t know why – maybe it’s mingling with people who like to collect books as much as I do, maybe it’s the bargain prices or maybe it standing outside on a cool autumn night anxiously waiting for the doors to open like a child waits for Christmas day, rushing to your favorite section hoping with anticipation that treasures, only known to us will be stacked on the tables waiting to be rescued, taken home, read and loved.

We book sale junkies are an interesting lot. We stand in line for almost an hour chatting about events of the day, issues of the town, what kinds of books we are looking for; we run into old friends and see people that we only come across at the book sales. We greet like long lost friends and for a few hours that night we are friends, comrades in literary pursuits. We compare notes on our latest finds or the hunt for certain books. But, when the doors open we are singularly minded in our race to reach our coveted section. It’s like a Harrods’s after Christmas sale.

I make my way through the crowd to the gardening and home section (thankfully these are together). I eagerly look through the stack of books; some I already own, conquests of previous book sales, I’m looking for new titles, new skills or just new additions to my growing collection. I strike pay dirt with books on farm devices, cabin building, root cellaring, sheep and ducks. I quickly put my treasures in my bag and move on to the nature section where I find titles by Emerson and Thoreau and a misplaced book of poetry by Keats. In the classics section I find more books of Thoreau. My last stop is movies and CD’s, but with CD’s priced at $3.00 each I let them go in favor of the books I’ve found. The movies section brings success in the form of period movies I’ve been looking for, but are no longer available.

Once I’ve made it through all the tables I find a quiet place to meet up with friends and we go through our finds like kids sorting through Halloween candy. We compare notes and trade titles or show off our favorite find. We hand over books we found for someone else in the group. It’s nice to have many pairs of eyes looking for you.

After the sort we make a last run through the tables. Many booksellers attend and grab up all they can. They sort them and then return the titles they can’t sell. In these I find a great book on fly fishing (next spring’s skill of choice) and an old Boy Scout handbook, written back when Scouting was all about survival skills.

We leave at 8:30pm, literarily sated and with enough words to keep us going long past winter. A good night of fun, with friends and new found treasures.

This past week has had its ups and downs. It’s been hectic, I’ve been sick and recovered in time to have a fun evening. These are the times that make me appreciate my life and the simplicity I’m striving to achieve all the more.

Stay safe and well folks. And, don’t pass up the chance to revel in simple pleasures.

(the picture at the top is of a river bridge we walked over on a recent apple picking trip)

Happy Hallow's Eve

The pumpkins are carved. Seeds are toasting in the oven. Candy is laid out on a festive tray for the little ghosts and goblins that live on the street. Our street is quiet and dark, without sidewalks or street lamps, so not many other children brave the unknown that is our little piece of heaven.

Dinner will be tummy warming chicken and dumplings, paired with a spinach salad and gingerbread cake for dessert. Then - a fashion show of homemade creations and store bought characters. We have an unofficial vote on which costume we like the best. Since most of our little one's are young Halloween will be over by six o'clock. A short, fun, festive night.

October is over. The clocks will change. We'll wake to November and the start of winter.

a homestead library

I've never been to a book store I didn't like. Really. Small or large; flea market or thrift store I love combing through the shelves or boxes of books. It's like a dusty hutch of curiosities, old treasures just waiting to be found, taken home and loved. Almost everywhere I travel I find new additions for my collection. I can't help myself. I love books. It's like an addiction and I need a fix.

Most of the books I own were once owned by someone else. Some have notes in the margins, little glimpses into what the previous owner was working on or thinking while reading the book. Sometimes I wonder who they are or what intrigued them about the book. I want to meet them, see what they're like, how they live and how the book affected their life. Did they use it to learn a new skill? Did the works in the passages bring new meaning or inspiration to their lives? Or, did they just read it for fun on a long rainy afternoon?

I want to know.

The books in my library are many and the topics varied. Classic works sit beside the contemporary. Practical farming exist along side politics and nature. It's an eclectic mix that speaks to who I am and where I'm heading. The topics really don't make sense to anyone, but me. They are my likes, my interests, my future and my past, all stored in a carved antique bookcase. And a few boxes on the floor.

They bring me inspiration and galvanize the path I'm on. They give me ideas to try, adventures to look forward to in the future. I revel in reading about people who live the life I am trying to live, doing what some day I'd like to try. I'm especially moved by women who are "doing it" on their own. No man to help with the heavy stuff, no children to commandeer your time, no one, but yourself to rely on. I find strength in their stories and admiration in the challenges they've overcome. I feel more confident by these strangers, whom I've never met.

My bookcase is like a mini travelocity, the place I go when I want to get away. I can slip away, laying by a warm fire, for an entire weekend. I may go to a farm in Idaho or a village in Africa. Or, maybe, as close as my own backyard garden. I crack open my books often and highly recommend any new homesteader build a library of their own. Even if you don't have your land right now, the skills you learn will serve you well when the time comes and you'll be glad you spent the time reading.

It's a fun world out there folks, so dive in and travel someplace new, have an adventure, learn something new. Read. Learn. It's up to you.

pumpkins in the sun

home churned butter

When I started moving toward a simpler, more self-reliant homesteading life one of the first projects I tried was making homemade butter. Now, it’s the first recommendation I make to anyone moving in the same direction because it’s so easy and the results are immediate – and delicious.

You don’t need any fancy equipment, a quart-size mason jar or mayonnaise jar will do fine. Fill the jar 1/3 of the way with cream (preferably organic or farm fresh) and set on the counter for 12 hours so the cream can “ripen”. The ideal temperature for the cream is about 75 degrees. (I usually set the cream out in the morning and churn after dinner).

Once the cream has “ripened” you’re ready to churn. Just sit down and start shaking.

It’s that easy.

Not too violently though, just an easy back and forth motion will do. In about 15 to 20 minutes a lump will begin to form. When the butter forms, drain off the buttermilk, keeping it for pancakes or biscuits. Pour the butter in a bowl and work it around the sides of a bowl to remove even more liquid. Pour off any liquid, then salt to taste. You can add as much or as little salt as you want or no salt at all.

I put my butter in a plastic-wrap lined mimi-loaf pan to harden. Then I cut it in half cubes and use part and freeze part.

Fresh homemade butter is nothing like you’ve tasted before. So, buy some cream folks and start churning.

meet Blue

"Blue" is our head honcho, top dog, main guy - as far as roosters go. He is the leader of our flock. He was not a planned addition, but came to us quite by accident.

Brianne and I were attending a poultry show where she fell in love with a black Cochin hen that was part of the raffle chickens. She begged me to let her try and win the little hen, but I said no. We had too many chickens already. As the day went on I felt a little guilty about my abrupt decision. We didn't have that many hens and one more really wouldn't be a problem, especially considering the aged hens that needed to be replaced. So, in true mom fashion, I reneged, bought $5.00 worth of raffle tickets and placed them all in the bag in front of the little hens cage.

Poultry shows are interesting events, one's that every would-be homesteader should attend at least once. Picture a group of people who can talk turkey - or chickens, or ducks, with the best of em; throw in a group of kids, eager to show off their own birds, that are viewed as "future poultry enthusiasts", and you have the makings of a happy day.

Poultry shows are the easiest livestock shows we've ever attended. Birds are cooped-in (entered) the morning of the show. When the judging begins, the show barn is closed and exhibitors are free to leave until the judging is complete.

But, what does this have to do with Blue? Well - while we were out touring the area a call came in from the raffle organizer. Brianne's ticket was pulled and she was the winner of the Cochin pair. Pair? I asked, puzzled and confused. We only put in tickets for the Cochin hen. Turns out the rooster had been placed in his own coop and no one noticed there wasn't a sign identifying the pair as - a pair (hen and rooster). So, we were now the proud owners of a pair of Blue Cochins.

Blue Cochins are an interesting breed. In order to hatch blue chicks, a blue rooster is mated with a black hen. Some of the hatch will be black, some blue and some mottled black and blue. In a show flock only the blue roosters are kept for future breeding.

We brought our new additions home and introduced them to the flock. After ma period of settling in, Blue has turned out to be the most docile rooster we've ever had. He's a stately guy that keeps watch over all the girls, he is gentle with the chicks, and he is a very eager breeder, which gives us plenty of eggs to hatch and chicks to sell or trade.

What I thought was going to be a disaster in the making turned out to be really good addition to our little farm.

laying in firewood

Bringing in firewood is one of my favorite seasonal chores. To be out on a beautiful fall day participating in labor that will ultimately bring pleasure and comfort to our home fills me with a sense of accomplishment, of self-reliance.

I get my wood from a local rancher who trims the wind rows (tree barriers) on his ranch every year. It's seasoned and split. All I have to do is load it and take it home. Each year I offer to help with the enormous job of cutting and splitting the wood, and each year he tells me "no thanks". (actually, I'd like to learn how to use the splitter and get pointers on wielding an ax more efficiently). We use about 4-cords through the winter. My firewood rack holds a generous 2-cords, so we get another load mid-season.

It's such a warm feeling to realize that there are people, who in their small way are looking after us. Every time our fire blazes warm and bright this winter, I will think of our friend, of his quiet concern for us and be grateful.

(the wood pile in the photo are "rounds" waiting to be split)

fruits of our labor

Our newest little layers have been working overtime. The girls are laying 2 eggs every day!

To celebrate their accomplishments, we baked a ham, cheese and spinach quiche. That and a fresh salad made a great light supper.

the last harvest

I tasted some of our Fuji apples today and they are ripe!! Crunchy, sweet and juicy, just what a real apple should be. I’ll pick them tomorrow before they are swept way by the thieving birds. We have a couple of very ambitious crows that live near by. They try to grab anything that isn’t nailed down.

I smell an apple crisp in our future.

Our young orchard has been good to us this year. Planted just a few years ago, this was the first time all the trees produced a crop, albeit a small crop. It was wonderful to have fresh fruit through the spring and summer.

We started off in late May with a respectable pick of peaches. Most of them never made it to the house. We ate them while working in the garden or just sitting around watching the chickens roam the yard. There’s something about the smell of a tree ripened peach, there’s no waiting to eat it.

By July, the Pluot’s started to ripen. A pluot is a stone fruit that is a plum/apricot cross. The skin is smooth like a plum, but the flesh has a slight orange tinge to it and the texture of an apricot. They are scrumdillyumpcious.

I was not quick enough in September, when the Asian Pears were ready and a sudden wind storm blew them from their branches. By the time I found them, the bugs had already been feasting. Dang wind!

Every year, a new maturity comes over our little farm. We harvest a little more, store a little more. Our efforts are rewarded with fresh homegrown meat, eggs and produce for our kitchen. We are grateful and proud to take one more step closer to self-reliance.

a full barn

What a crazy busy weekend Brianne and I had. We spent Saturday morning teaching a young friend how to show goats for an upcoming competition. (I wrote about this earlier).

But, Sunday was the exciting day. A good friend of ours had called earlier in the week to say that our new lambs were ready for pick up. We woke up early, even before the roosters started crowing. Like anxious children at Christmas we wasted no time feeding animals so we could head north to take possession.

The drive was 4 hours up and over a major mountain pass. Colder weather had already reached the higher elevations leaving the air cool and crisp, a true fall day. Leaves were already starting to turn and fall. Fall usually comes late to California. But, it was beautiful just the same, and a pleasant relief from our unexpected heat wave at home.

When we arrived, we had breakfast, saw the new additions to their flock, and talked shop, the kind of barn talk that makes for great conversation and a few hearty laughs. I’m glad that Brianne and I have made such good friends in the livestock world. It would be a lonely place without a familiar face or a friendly voice.

After lots of hugs and farewells, we headed home.

Once home, we settled the lambs into the barn with fresh water and a little bit of hay to tied them over until feeding time. Seems funny - we have lambs for most of the year, why should a few months with an empty barn make a difference? It does though– make a difference. An empty barn on a farm feels like a family dinner with a loved one missing. The void is strong.

No emptiness anymore. Our barn is full! And Brianne is back to feeding and showing just like always.

The farm is complete.

Life is good.

little hens lay eggs

The chicks we hatched back in April are all grown up, now! When I collected eggs this afternoon there were 2 small bantam sized brown eggs along side one of the hens in the nesting box. The little red Frizzle cross had done a great job, but was not at all happy I was whisking away her small accomplishment.

The July hatch is still too young to lay, so we sit and wait. Maybe by Christmas. One good note though - it looks like 5 of the 6 chicks we hatched will be hens. They will make good replacements for the older hens whose production has fallen off with age.

Way to go - ladies!!

Chase's pig - Big T

chicken feed and market goats

I was up and out early this morning. The chickens had run out of feed and I needed to get some - fast. I don’t like getting that low this time of year because you never know what will happen that prevents you from getting to town. Life is unpredictable. I quickly feed the dogs and headed to town.

The feed store was busy today, with trucks lined up like rock star groupies, everyone with something to buy and somewhere to be. I saw people that I rarely see any other place – the horseshoer that’s actually not from around here, the cattle rancher who lives up the canyon and small farmers like me just buying feed for our little companions.

After my truck was loaded I drove through town and treated myself to a Chai from my favorite little coffee place. I may be a homesteading farm girl at heart, but I like my Chai. Main Street was beginning to bustle with the Saturday morning breakfast crowd, the Farmer’s Market had just opened and was doing a brisk business. No time to stop though, Brianne had agreed to teach a friend how to show goats and we needed to be on the other side of the county by 10:00 am.

Once home, I filled the feed barrels and then the feeders in the chicken coop. The girls were happy to have their breakfast, albeit a little late, and squawked at me as they raced to get their share of the lay mash.

With morning chores complete and animals fed, we headed off.

Brianne and Chase have been showing livestock for several years now and they both are becoming quite the little stockmen.

Brianne put Chase through his paces, taught him the basics of proper goat showmanship and gave a few pointers for him to work on before the show in November. At such a young age our kids have learned so much about livestock and about life. They’ve dealt with many triumphs over the years, but have also experienced their share of tragedies.

Life lessons on a farm are sometimes harsh, but I think our kids are stronger and more responsible because of them. They know where they are going and what they want out of life. How many young people can say that these day’s. It’s heartwarming and exciting to hear them talk about THEIR farms, where they want to live and what they want to raise.

We visited a while, talking about livestock shows and sales, family and life on our respective farms before leaving for home. Get a bunch of livestock people together and we can talk for hours. It was late in the afternoon when we arrived home, but still light enough to fetch a load of mulch for the garden.

Kids, livestock, friends and gardens. It doesn’t get much better than that.

harvest festival

I decided to take yesterday off work. After the week I’d had my inner-child was crying out to play, screaming at the top of its lungs actually. It was tired of being cooped up and would no more of it. What else could I do, but let it out. And, so I did.

Just in time too. Our county’s annual Harvest Festival & Craft Faire is this weekend, so I took the opportunity to beat the weekend crowds and went. And, I’m glad I did.

The celebration of the season, the wonderful local artisans showing their wares, and of course the great seasonal treats was just what I needed. Walking in the fresh autumn air brought me back to my senses. It does that you know – autumn – with the way the ground smells after an early rain, or the way the sun hits the garden in the late afternoon. Autumn seems to almost glow, announcing that life will be different now, at least for a while.

It treats us to the last remnants of long days before bringing us inside for the winter.

It challenges us to see the season, not as a passing, something to be mourned, but as a resting; resting of trees and plants that have put so much energy into growing so that we may be sustained; resting of animals that have spent the warmer months raising their young; and resting from long days spent outside working on the farm.

The days will be shorter now, but I won’t mind, because fall and winter is my time to explore a different side of the farm, one that isn’t all about being outside.

As I walked through the festival, the aroma of baked goods filled the air. I love the foods of autumn. Warm pumpkin spice bread fresh from the oven, slathered with homemade butter; apple pancakes dripping with pure maple syrup; hearty soups and stews that make the perfect meal on a cold night.

My strolling took me deep into the pumpkin fields. I was in a sea of orange globes – some were tall and stately, perfect for carving, others short and squatty, splotched with green. Along side the fields were rows of fancy sunflowers, lemon and orange, burgundy and brown. They looked so beautiful against the clear blue sky.

I didn’t buy anything today; nothing struck my fancy. But, I did come away with a fresh attitude and quieter inner child. Not bad at all, for a Friday.

Walking back to my truck I kept thinking, rest and rejuvenate – that’s the season we’re in now.

So, snuggle down by a warm fire, enjoy a steaming cup of coco and rest, just rest.

homemade supper

There's nothing better than a made from scratch, home cooked supper. The warm, comforting smells that waft through the house, announcing what awaits us. I love to cook. To try new recipes, new techniques. But, mostly I like giving my family something hearty and wholesome at the end of a long, hard day.

One of my goals has always been to produce as much of what we eat here on the farm. Although we are not always as successful as we'd like, we still try. And, in leaner times, when the farm has not treated us well we always have the Farmers' Market to help us along.

Last night's menu was a take on osso buco, which I made with "homegrown" lamb shanks, Parmesan mashed potatoes and sauteed baby spinach. The recipe is my own concoccsion, adapted for the crockpot. There is a bit more liquid in, so when finished just put the shanks on a plate and tent them, the pour the liquid in a saucepan and cook down until thick.

lamb osso buco

2 lamb shanks

1 yellow onion, chopped fine

2 carrots, chopped fine

2 cloves, garlic, minced

2 strips lemon peel

1 cup dry white wine

1/2 pint beef broth

1/2 pint Italian stewed tomatoes, coasely chopped

1 bay leaf

salt and pepper to taste

Directions: Season shanks with salt and pepper. Chop all vegetables, plus garlic and place in bottom of crockpot. Set shanks on top of vegetables. Pour wine, broth and tomoateos over the shanks and arrange lemon peel and bay along sides of shanks.

Cook on high all day. Before serving, remove shanks to a warm plate and tent with foil. Pour liquid into a large pot and cook down to a thickened sauce.

Plate shanks with mashed potatoes and spoon sauce over top.

Enjoy!

a homestead morning

I woke suddenly this morning, unaware of the reason. When I got my bearings I rolled over to look at the clock. It was a little after four. I lay there for a while staring at the red numbers in the darkness, then took a deep breath and rolled over again trying to fall back to sleep. As I settled in my toasty, warm bed I listened to the rain. It’s been raining since yesterday – a slow and steady soft kind of rain. The kind that is quickly absorbed by the soil…the kind that nourishes the garden rather than drowning it. I lay their snuggled under layers of homemade quilts and down comforters listening to the pattern of the drops rolling off the eves. Plink…plink…plink, plink…plunk. It came down softly hitting something below. As I laid there in my warm bed, I tried to figure out what the rain was hitting. I always try to move potential noisemakers before the rainy season starts, but I must have missed something. A splashing noise drew my attention to window on the other side of the room. It was a steady sound, like a brook bubbling and stumbling over rocks in a stream. It was my rain barrel filled to overflowing. I had always wanted to collect rainwater, to use in the garden when the time between winter storms was long and spring and summer months provide almost nothing. I’m trying to offset using municipal water. It’s a crude set-up though, several large plastic trash cans connected with PVC pipe so the full barrels can flow into the empty ones. Any hardcore homesteader might laugh at the simplicity of it, but it works.

The rain still falls steadily.

It’s dark and quiet, the comforting time of the morning. Off in the distance I could hear the faint sounds of roosters crowing. It’s amazing how far off they sound at that time of the morning considering the barn is only 80-feet away. The sound was deep and throaty from a bird well seasoned at these early morning rituals. But, below him came a barely noticeable strange sound, ur…ur…ur. It was the sound of a roo just learning to crow. Actually, it was cockerel, young male roster. But I never really bother with using correct terms. They sound so stuffy and unfriendly. The chicks we hatched back in April would be old enough. But, my amusement gave way to disappointed as well. I have too many roos already, so any new ones will be put into the freezer. Life on a homestead, even a suburban one, isn’t always fair or kind, but it is necessary. The young roos always sound so funny, like they’re being interrupted in mid-crow or someone has nudged them to be quiet. In any event, it was much too early for them to be sounding off. When it’s daylight, I’ll have to figure out who our new crower is.

The pattern of the rain falling from the eves quickens and then slows the sound of an intermittent rain.

Still unable to fall asleep I decided to get up for awhile. Standing there in the darkness I noticed a few lights on throughout the neighborhood, a rare sight considering the time of the morning, or at least rare to me. I’m hardly ever up this early. I made my way into the kitchen to fix a cup of tea, hoping that would help me sleep. As I stood in the dark kitchen, looking out over the yard, watching the rain, a few more lights came on. They looked golden, almost like candle light glowing in the darkness. When my tea was ready I poured it into a cup and wandered around the house. I think everyone should experience their house this early in the morning. The sounds and smells, the feel of it is different than during any other part of the day. It’s strange and calm, almost eerie and unfamiliar.

The rain was heavier now, but not a true downpour. Still the kind that the ground could soak up easily. I watched out the front window as the low spots in the yard filled up with water. Didn’t matter though, they would dissipate as soon as the rain stopped. Night was being pushed aside now as the pre-morning dawn was trying to take over. It was almost 5:00 am. The horizon was a faint silver grey, not the usual color pallet of a fall morning – orange and yellow, streaked with shades of rose. As the darkness receded, columns of smoke rose from a few of the neighboring houses. Like signals from fellow homesteaders announcing their belief in living a simpler way. There weren’t many though, just enough to make me feel like I wasn’t alone in this venture. Some of the houses I knew and others I was surprised to see such activity this early in the morning. We tend to be a solitary lot we homesteaders. Whether it be fear of discovery or a reluctance to explain ourselves and the way we are trying to live to others we tend to keep our life pretty close to the vest. It was nice, though, to see a few more followers. I’ll have to visit with them and find a way to casually bring up gardening or canning or backyard chickens, just to let them know I am here and one of them.

I love my fireplace. I don’t think I could ever live in a house that didn’t have one. They bring so much ambience and comfort to a home. Not to mention warmth. I’m glad I brought in a load of firewood last week. When the storm breaks I’ll go out for more. A local rancher has been kind enough to keep me in good supply of well-seasoned, pre-cut firewood, as long as I pick it up and stack it myself.

Staring out that window, watching the rain fall from the sky and chimney smoke ascending to the clouds I thought who was more strange, the homesteader who gets up early in the morning to tend the animals and gardens, hearth and home that sustain his family; or the employee who gets up early only to sit in traffic for hours before reaching his office. I leaned my head against the window pane pondering. It was cold and damp from built up condensation. I stood there watching the rain splash on the driveway and the overflowing bird bath spill out onto the garden path. I followed the raindrops streaking down the window with my finger and thought…so what if people think I’m strange, if homesteading in the suburbs is strange. It’s no stranger than working a 50 or 60 hour week trying to prove yourself to an employer who doesn’t appreciate you or to fill your life with material things that can’t make you happy. So what, that I’m not climbing the corporate ladder to ever greater riches, aren’t I rich enough with my contentment and my simple pleasures? I stopped myself. Why continue.

With that, I set my tea on the kitchen counter and went back to my comfy warm bed filled with quilts and down, laid my head on a soft pillow and listened to the sounds of the rain and of the morning until it was time to get up again.