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.

our farm

Welcome to the blog for La Petite Ferme, a thriving little homestead at the edge of town. La Petite Ferme (The Little Farm) is an actual place. In fact it’s a suburban homestead at the edge of a town – population 35,000 or so. It got its name while I was on a trip to France. I was traveling by train to Giverney. All along the route were small houses on fairly large lots. I began to notice that each one had a garden, a few chickens running around, a small vineyard and a garden shed. As I watched them pass I thought “how cool”, they’re like little farms - hence the name.

Today I raise chickens for eggs and meat, a few rabbits and several sheep, which are shown by my daughter or put in the freezer. I also tend a few stubborn gardens, a small orchard, berry patch, grapevines and flower gardens.

I live with my daughter, two feisty spaniels named "Dakota" and "Dutch". They are true farm dogs, chasing squirrels, keeping the birds off ripening berries and guarding our home. My goal in pursuing a simpler life in mid-sized city is to achieve greater self-sufficiency and self-reliance in a world that seems only too happy to turn those characteristics over to someone or something else.

On this blog I will host all kinds of farm related posts from my personal experiences-homestead living and local farm events, like county fairs, livestock shows and ag related festivals can all be found on this site. Readers of SububanHomesteading.com, will see a few double posts between the two blogs. Thank you for taking the time to check up on us and if we don’t come a runn’ng, it’s cuz we’re in the barn, so check back often.