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:)!