Guess i'm gonna hafta.
Happy Golden Birthday, ALA! Can't wait for the celebrating to commence!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, May 31, 2012
**blowing out exasperated breath**
STILL four more days??? How will i EVER survive????
Guess i'm gonna hafta.
Happy Golden Birthday, ALA! Can't wait for the celebrating to commence!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Guess i'm gonna hafta.
Happy Golden Birthday, ALA! Can't wait for the celebrating to commence!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Runnin' and Jumpin'
He BITES!! And i mean EVERY TIME he comes near me, the first thing he does is bite me on the ankles.
And not just cute little nibbles, but BITES!!! As in HURTS!!! !!!!!!!!!
Can't wait for those horns to come on in, i am gonna be teaching him a lesson or two.
Peaches and Percy both got their Big Goatie Collars today. Percy was pretty much oblivious to the process since it didn't involve milk, but Peaches was far less than impressed--especially the first time she tried to run away and just about gave herself whiplash.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Birthday Branches
Had a storm roll through in the wee hours last night, and it took down a bunch of branches. County came through with chainsaws and moved everything off the road, so Chickory had a big pile of fresh green leaves for her birthday breakfast.
Being the kind and generous girl that she is, she shared with the other does.
Chickory B. also shared with the kids, even though they don't quite have geniune herd status yet.
When the does were done, she even shared with the bucks.
So everyone got to partake in the Birthday Branch feast.
Happy Birthday, my sweet Chickory Blossom!!
And a big old Happy Birthday to The Queen Mum, as well!!!
Happy Birthday, my sweet Chickory Blossom!!
And a big old Happy Birthday to The Queen Mum, as well!!!
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Loooooooong Horns
Y'all know by now that i am a firm believer in our Creator's Perfect Plan.
I don't necessarily get all of it, such as the size of the avocado pit or the platypus, but i know things are the way they are for a reason.
I have recently figured out the reason Longhorns have long horns.
Drove by the other day, and saw one of these guys giving his bum a scratch by leaning his head way back and nodding.
HA!! Knew they were good for something!
Monday, May 28, 2012
Watchful Eyes
Took these pictures back in April or so, and never got around to posting them, for some strange reason. Just stumbled across them, and still think they are worth sharing. Doesn't that look like a happy girl? Positively makes my heart sing. Ah do so luv that dawg.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
**hopping from one foot to the other**
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
One week from tomorrow...
the voyage of my dreams...
Saturday, May 26, 2012
A Little Aloha
Long ago and far away, i led a completely different life.
A life where i had standing weekly manicure and monthly pedicure appointments.
A life where i dressed in nice clothing every day, and accessories made the outfit.
A life that involved hairdos and makeup.
A life with sunny days in the sand, and swimming the pipeline with the old Japanese men in the early morning.
A life constantly surrounded by greenness and sweet smelling bright colors and singing birds.
And rainbows.
A little rain every day, and every day a rainbow.
Much, oh so much has changed.
Wouldn't be anywhere else but where i am today, but i surely did love that life while i lived it.
Just down from my apartment was this groovy little ohana style restaurant called, simply, Ono.
In this land of simplicity and frugality and doing with whatcha got, it was perfectly named, as ono translates to "delicious." And that it was.
Most of the time i had no idea what i was eating, and sometimes probably didn't want to know, but i don't remember ever having anything that turned my stomach. It was ono nui loa.
A couple of years ago, Susan Dear Susan shared this recipe with me. It is the traditional birthday meal for the boys in their house, and i had possession of one of her boys on his birthday. I was trying to make him feel at home, but wasn't doing it like momma does it. Twist off and i went round and round because he insisted that it absolutely had to be deep fried, and that by pan frying it i was ruining it.
In the end, it turns out that he was right, but i was doing the best i could at the time. The discourse did get him thrown out of my kitchen at the time. Who knew the little toot would go on to graduate from some high falutin' cooking school.
That weekend, i also had Magpie for a visit. She was the whole reason i wound up in Paradise, and she lived there at the same time.
I whooped up a batch of this chicken, and when we sat down to eat, took one bite, and both our eyes got wide and with full mouths, we both exclaimed, "ONO!!!"
This was the unknown chicken that Ono cafe put in one of their bento plates.
It has become a favorite in our house as well. It is a little time consuming to make, but makes a huge batch, and i have found that once it has done the initial marinade, meal sized portions can be tossed in baggies and frozen, and it still fries up just fine.
Mochiko Chicken
4 lbs of bite sized pieces of chicken
4T flour
4T cornstarch
4T sugar
5T soy sauce (i use low sodium)
5 cloves minced garlic
8T mochiko flour (found in the asian section)
4 stalks green onion, finely chopped
4 eggs
4T oyster sauce
Mix all the batter stuff together,
then throw in the chicken
and stir real well.
Put it in the fridge overnite, then give it a stir first thing in the morning. Give it a stir every couple of hours until you cook it, then deep fry.
For the record, this recipe calls for 4t salt, as well, but just reading about soy sauce and salt together almost gave me a coronary. Also, while the recipe calls for green onion, i don't make a special trip to get it, which you can tell from the picture above. Part of the culture is to be pake, or frugal, and use what you have. So a regular onion will do the trick as well, it just isn't as pretty. But i figure Auntie Lynn or Mrs. Yorita would approve of the substitution, and frown if i had run into town just for green onions.
Fry up a batch of mochiko chicken, serve it with some sticky rice, and perhaps a bit of grilled or broiled pineapple on the side, and you will become instantly bilingual, as you will immediately understand the term "ono."
A life where i had standing weekly manicure and monthly pedicure appointments.
A life where i dressed in nice clothing every day, and accessories made the outfit.
A life that involved hairdos and makeup.
A life with sunny days in the sand, and swimming the pipeline with the old Japanese men in the early morning.
A life constantly surrounded by greenness and sweet smelling bright colors and singing birds.
And rainbows.
A little rain every day, and every day a rainbow.
Much, oh so much has changed.
Wouldn't be anywhere else but where i am today, but i surely did love that life while i lived it.
Just down from my apartment was this groovy little ohana style restaurant called, simply, Ono.
In this land of simplicity and frugality and doing with whatcha got, it was perfectly named, as ono translates to "delicious." And that it was.
Most of the time i had no idea what i was eating, and sometimes probably didn't want to know, but i don't remember ever having anything that turned my stomach. It was ono nui loa.
A couple of years ago, Susan Dear Susan shared this recipe with me. It is the traditional birthday meal for the boys in their house, and i had possession of one of her boys on his birthday. I was trying to make him feel at home, but wasn't doing it like momma does it. Twist off and i went round and round because he insisted that it absolutely had to be deep fried, and that by pan frying it i was ruining it.
In the end, it turns out that he was right, but i was doing the best i could at the time. The discourse did get him thrown out of my kitchen at the time. Who knew the little toot would go on to graduate from some high falutin' cooking school.
That weekend, i also had Magpie for a visit. She was the whole reason i wound up in Paradise, and she lived there at the same time.
I whooped up a batch of this chicken, and when we sat down to eat, took one bite, and both our eyes got wide and with full mouths, we both exclaimed, "ONO!!!"
This was the unknown chicken that Ono cafe put in one of their bento plates.
It has become a favorite in our house as well. It is a little time consuming to make, but makes a huge batch, and i have found that once it has done the initial marinade, meal sized portions can be tossed in baggies and frozen, and it still fries up just fine.
Mochiko Chicken
4 lbs of bite sized pieces of chicken
4T flour
4T cornstarch
4T sugar
5T soy sauce (i use low sodium)
5 cloves minced garlic
8T mochiko flour (found in the asian section)
4 stalks green onion, finely chopped
4 eggs
4T oyster sauce
Mix all the batter stuff together,
then throw in the chicken
and stir real well.
Put it in the fridge overnite, then give it a stir first thing in the morning. Give it a stir every couple of hours until you cook it, then deep fry.
For the record, this recipe calls for 4t salt, as well, but just reading about soy sauce and salt together almost gave me a coronary. Also, while the recipe calls for green onion, i don't make a special trip to get it, which you can tell from the picture above. Part of the culture is to be pake, or frugal, and use what you have. So a regular onion will do the trick as well, it just isn't as pretty. But i figure Auntie Lynn or Mrs. Yorita would approve of the substitution, and frown if i had run into town just for green onions.
Fry up a batch of mochiko chicken, serve it with some sticky rice, and perhaps a bit of grilled or broiled pineapple on the side, and you will become instantly bilingual, as you will immediately understand the term "ono."
Friday, May 25, 2012
Happy Pearl
This is Angry Pearl defending her new little chick...
We are excited about these little guys...
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Do You MIND If We Dance Wiff Yo Dates?
The Bob's have been lonely guys since Isabell bit the dust.
When Susan Dear Susan came for her visit, she noted the depths of their despair.
Susan donated five girlie ducks to the cause. They are not runners, but look like them, except they are brown with white rather than white with brown, and rather than being goofballs, they are freakazoids. Can ya help us out here with the breed name, Susan?
When we get them to Tails Up, it is late at night, so Ellie May puts the crate on a trolley and parks it in the doe barn so everyone can get used to each other.
I go out first thing in the morning to release them, and find them plastered against the back wall of the crate, quacking like crazy.
Apparently, a sense of impending doom had overtaken them.
I wheeled the trolley out into the doe yard, and put the crate on the ground. The Bob's were rallying together, chattering amongst themselves about what might possibly be in the crate making all that intriguing racket.
I opened the door to the crate, and the Barbara's (from this point forward to be known as "The Bab's) pensively emerged. As they egressed, the Bob's became more frenetic, but stayed in a swirly holding pattern, well away from any potential danger.
Finally all the Bab's were out, and one of the Bob's, Bob, ventured toward them,
slowly scoping out the sitch-e-ation, taking a step, calling back a report to The Bob's, another step, and entreaty to join him, another step, and.......
WOMEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bob B-lined into the middle of The Bab's, and in less than thirty seconds had committed an offense that would have landed him five to ten in the poky if he had opposable thumbs.
The Bab's were, quite naturally, mortified and offended. The Bob's were not quite sure what just happened.
For a while i thought they were gonna be friends...
...then they spent the rest of the day in groups on opposite sides of the doe yard, like a bunch of teenagers at a sockhop in the high school gymnasium.
The next morning, The Bob's were all over the place, and The Bab's were nowhere to be seen.
I tracked them down in the sweetgum pen, gathered all five in one arm (this is where you are supposed to be impressed) and took them out to the pond and tossed them in.
They seemed to enjoy this, but later that afternoon had disappeared again.
Not sure where The Bab's are hanging out, but we spot them every now and then, and sometimes hear them raising a ruckus.
Am thinking of getting The Bob's some Old Spice, and the Bab's some chamomile tea and a pink pool. Don't quite know what else to do to remedy the impasse.
When Susan Dear Susan came for her visit, she noted the depths of their despair.
Susan donated five girlie ducks to the cause. They are not runners, but look like them, except they are brown with white rather than white with brown, and rather than being goofballs, they are freakazoids. Can ya help us out here with the breed name, Susan?
When we get them to Tails Up, it is late at night, so Ellie May puts the crate on a trolley and parks it in the doe barn so everyone can get used to each other.
I go out first thing in the morning to release them, and find them plastered against the back wall of the crate, quacking like crazy.
Apparently, a sense of impending doom had overtaken them.
I wheeled the trolley out into the doe yard, and put the crate on the ground. The Bob's were rallying together, chattering amongst themselves about what might possibly be in the crate making all that intriguing racket.
I opened the door to the crate, and the Barbara's (from this point forward to be known as "The Bab's) pensively emerged. As they egressed, the Bob's became more frenetic, but stayed in a swirly holding pattern, well away from any potential danger.
Finally all the Bab's were out, and one of the Bob's, Bob, ventured toward them,
slowly scoping out the sitch-e-ation, taking a step, calling back a report to The Bob's, another step, and entreaty to join him, another step, and.......
WOMEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bob B-lined into the middle of The Bab's, and in less than thirty seconds had committed an offense that would have landed him five to ten in the poky if he had opposable thumbs.
The Bab's were, quite naturally, mortified and offended. The Bob's were not quite sure what just happened.
For a while i thought they were gonna be friends...
 |
| Hey Girls, if we ignore them maybe they will go away |
 |
| Don't go.... |
 |
| What are nice girls like you doing in a place like this? |
 |
| What the heck are Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob and Bob doing over there, and WHO ARE THEY TALKING TO??!!?? |
...then they spent the rest of the day in groups on opposite sides of the doe yard, like a bunch of teenagers at a sockhop in the high school gymnasium.
The next morning, The Bob's were all over the place, and The Bab's were nowhere to be seen.
I tracked them down in the sweetgum pen, gathered all five in one arm (this is where you are supposed to be impressed) and took them out to the pond and tossed them in.
They seemed to enjoy this, but later that afternoon had disappeared again.
Not sure where The Bab's are hanging out, but we spot them every now and then, and sometimes hear them raising a ruckus.
Am thinking of getting The Bob's some Old Spice, and the Bab's some chamomile tea and a pink pool. Don't quite know what else to do to remedy the impasse.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
French Connection
Two bushels of homegrown onions recently found their way into my kitchen.
That's a lot of onions, just in case you were wondering.
Now, there isn't much that goes on in my kitchen that doesn't involve onions.
Or cheese.
Actually, that reminds me. I have a story i have to tell, comes from the kind soul up the road that provided these lovely onions. Plus, it involves Frainch stuff, which ties in nicely with the French Onion Soup recipe i am gonna give ya here in a spell.
I made a trip to the big city last week, and my special treat when i have to make that trip is to stop by Central Market for lunch. If you are not familiar with Central Market, go back and find the September 19, 2011 posting about the BFBC Pill Poppin' Potty Stoppin' Food Tour '11.
Central Market is a wonderment.
When i walked in that day, i discovered that it was the first day of their "France" promotion, where they were featuring all things Frainch. This was very fun, except that they turned the sushi counter into some kind of Frainch bread store, so i had to have a go at the salad bar instead of the sushi bar. The salad needed a little bread, so i went around the corner and found a little loaf of something fabulous, and then, as i was heading to check out, i passed through the cheese section. CM's cheese section is a thing of beauty. I can do some real damage there. So i decided my fabulous bread needed a piece of fabulous cheese, you know, to finish off the salad. I am pretty familiar with the cheeses they carry, and was looking for a little chunk of something that i hadn't tried before. I didn't look at the goat cheeses, because i am VERY familiar with those. I found several interesting cheeses, but, as this was lunch and i was on the road, i didn't want a big chunk of cheese. I walked across the aisle to the Frainch cheese section, which was located right next to the goat cheeses when something caught my eye......goat cheddar with nettles and dandelions.
Well. I can tell you that the search ended right that moment. I can also report that this cheese was divine.
At a hen party a couple of days later, i was raving about the cheese (because i was among friends that revere cheese and butter the way i do) and recounting the story, when the kind soul up the road pointed out the humor in the fact that i was too frugal to spend money on a big chunk of cheese, but perfectly willing to spend money on a small chunk of cheese with WEEDS!!!
In all fairness, i don't splurge like that often, and when i do, i justify it by calling it research. I found Cypress Grove's Midnight Moon, the goat cheddar that i aspire to make, during a little splurge like this. If you can find that cheese, do yourself a favor.
Back to the onions.
This time every year i get a mess of onions and can a case or two of French Onion Soup. It is a lovely thing to have in the pantry on cold days. Just pop a piece of crusty bread under the broiler with a nice handful of cheese on it while the soup is coming to a boil on the stove. I have also been known to use the soup as a base for a quick stew.
This year i have also canned just the onions. When you caramelize the onions, they produce their own juices. The onions and juice can be jarred up without the use of of additional liquid, so you have an entire jar of pure onion loveliness to use in soups and casseroles.
Home Canned Home Made French Onion Soup
Just coarse chop a bunch of onions, drizzle a little olive oil in the bottom of a pot, and cook the onions down to caramelize. While they are cooking, bring some really good beef stock to the boil, and hit it with a bunch of Worcestershire. Got no measurements on this one, ya gotta taste it till it's right. Fill clean sterilized jars at least half way, up to three-quarters full of onions and the resulting onion juice, then finish filling jar with beef stock. 1" head space, 10# pressure, 60 minutes for pints, 75 minutes for quarts.
That's a lot of onions, just in case you were wondering.
Now, there isn't much that goes on in my kitchen that doesn't involve onions.
Or cheese.
Actually, that reminds me. I have a story i have to tell, comes from the kind soul up the road that provided these lovely onions. Plus, it involves Frainch stuff, which ties in nicely with the French Onion Soup recipe i am gonna give ya here in a spell.
I made a trip to the big city last week, and my special treat when i have to make that trip is to stop by Central Market for lunch. If you are not familiar with Central Market, go back and find the September 19, 2011 posting about the BFBC Pill Poppin' Potty Stoppin' Food Tour '11.
Central Market is a wonderment.
When i walked in that day, i discovered that it was the first day of their "France" promotion, where they were featuring all things Frainch. This was very fun, except that they turned the sushi counter into some kind of Frainch bread store, so i had to have a go at the salad bar instead of the sushi bar. The salad needed a little bread, so i went around the corner and found a little loaf of something fabulous, and then, as i was heading to check out, i passed through the cheese section. CM's cheese section is a thing of beauty. I can do some real damage there. So i decided my fabulous bread needed a piece of fabulous cheese, you know, to finish off the salad. I am pretty familiar with the cheeses they carry, and was looking for a little chunk of something that i hadn't tried before. I didn't look at the goat cheeses, because i am VERY familiar with those. I found several interesting cheeses, but, as this was lunch and i was on the road, i didn't want a big chunk of cheese. I walked across the aisle to the Frainch cheese section, which was located right next to the goat cheeses when something caught my eye......goat cheddar with nettles and dandelions.
Well. I can tell you that the search ended right that moment. I can also report that this cheese was divine.
At a hen party a couple of days later, i was raving about the cheese (because i was among friends that revere cheese and butter the way i do) and recounting the story, when the kind soul up the road pointed out the humor in the fact that i was too frugal to spend money on a big chunk of cheese, but perfectly willing to spend money on a small chunk of cheese with WEEDS!!!
In all fairness, i don't splurge like that often, and when i do, i justify it by calling it research. I found Cypress Grove's Midnight Moon, the goat cheddar that i aspire to make, during a little splurge like this. If you can find that cheese, do yourself a favor.
Back to the onions.
This time every year i get a mess of onions and can a case or two of French Onion Soup. It is a lovely thing to have in the pantry on cold days. Just pop a piece of crusty bread under the broiler with a nice handful of cheese on it while the soup is coming to a boil on the stove. I have also been known to use the soup as a base for a quick stew.
This year i have also canned just the onions. When you caramelize the onions, they produce their own juices. The onions and juice can be jarred up without the use of of additional liquid, so you have an entire jar of pure onion loveliness to use in soups and casseroles.
Home Canned Home Made French Onion Soup
Just coarse chop a bunch of onions, drizzle a little olive oil in the bottom of a pot, and cook the onions down to caramelize. While they are cooking, bring some really good beef stock to the boil, and hit it with a bunch of Worcestershire. Got no measurements on this one, ya gotta taste it till it's right. Fill clean sterilized jars at least half way, up to three-quarters full of onions and the resulting onion juice, then finish filling jar with beef stock. 1" head space, 10# pressure, 60 minutes for pints, 75 minutes for quarts.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Can You Say "Buck Rodeo?"
When goats are, shall we say, communicating with each other, there are several non-verbal methods used to get the point across.
Of course you are familiar with Head Butting, and sometimes the power and ferocity exhibited in this display is quite scary to observe. I am amazed on a daily basis that there are never any broken ribs or noggins out there.
Another of the common means of articulation is the Bite. Ren was a master of this one. Chickory had permanent bald spots on her hips from Ren's constant advisement's on a variety of subjects. This action can be mimicked by humans on an "as needed" basis in what Susan Dear Susan refers to as "Hitting the GO button." If you are having trouble getting someone to do as you desire, you reach back and give them a good solid pinch on the hind quarter, and generally your command will be obeyed. Exceptions to every rule, of course. Mean old biddies like Ren will just reach around and bite you back, but most understand the meaning and become compliant.
In extreme circumstances, enlightenment comes in the form of the Ear Pull, of which Ren was also a master, but Lace was rather proficient at, as well. This too, can be used by the two legged to achieve desired behavioral goals. I personally don't use this one very often, as we all get along pretty well around here, and mosta the girlz are quite happy to do as i ask, and if they are hesitant, i produce cookies, and that gets me what i want.
Young bucks that think they are in rut are another story.
They possess a hormonal focus that generally requires a sledge hammer to break through.
Last week, Legacy's gene pool was creating waves, and had Maud at the fence driving the bucks to distraction.
Fence? What stinkin' fence?
Sparta doan let no stinkin' fence slow HIM down!!!
Three days running, i step out to find no does in the doe yard, and when i go out there, Sparta sticks his head out the barn door to look at me as if to say, "They're all in here...no need to come any further, I've got it all under control."
I go to get him, and he is so intent on taking care of biddness that i don't think he even knew i was there. I get ahold of his collar and start to tug him in the direction of the buck pen. He spun around hard and jerked me with him. I am no small woman. This buck was on a mission.
I tried several different methods of persuasion, including hitting the "Go" button, and all were ignored in favor of trying to win favor with Maud. He finally started a charge toward her, and, in a moment of thoughtless desperation, i grabbed for anything i could get my hands on, which turned out to be a collar and an ear.
Exhibiting profound Mama Skills, in a split second, i managed to drag a hundred-and-somethin' pound buck sideways toward me. This finally got his attention, and i was able to herd him out the gate.
Note skid marks and footprints pictured above.
Susan arrives that afternoon for her yearly visit, and fell head over heels for Sparta, revising all of next year's Happy Thoughts on the spot, and then going home to post a blog about him titled "The Best Kept Secret In East Texas." Go see it at queenacresonline@blogspot.com.
A couple of days later, Sparkin' Sparta is caught leading my girlz astray, again, and i called Susan and told her i was fixin' to send him to Freezer Camp. She suggested we send him to Boot Camp, instead. So i loaded that bad boy up and trucked him down south.
When Sparta got to Boot Camp, he tried to show the other bucks what a man he was, but Susan's boyz promptly put an end to Sparta's Big Bad Buck Routine, and he can now be seen cowering in the woodpile, trying to stay out of the way, or, as Ellie May put it, "He has gone Oscar Mayer."
My worries are not over, however.
During milking chores, i opened the dairy door to let one doe out and another one in, and bonked MOON square on the head.
It would appear that Sparta left him a key.
Monday, May 21, 2012
The List Of What Has Been Going On Whilst Twiddlling Thumbs
Been chasing my tail for last several days.
So many happenings, so little time to tell about them.
And the official countdown is....two weeks from right this minute i will be working my way through the security check at the airport for the first leg of my journey.
This little trip could not have been more well timed.
ALA may not be aware, but i do believe she is saving lives, here.
Lessee, what all have y'all missed?
1. We led Sancho down the primrose path.
2. The Bobs got some Babs.
3. Pearl is a Big Bad Mama.
4. I canned TWO bushels of onions.
5. The Farm Buick died and on the third day arose again.
6. Sparta went to boot camp after a rather comical buck rodeo.
7. Mama hen is MIA, but all 13 chicks are doing well.
8. Susan gifted Ellie May with some frizzels.
9. Earl has begun joining me in the dairy barn at milking time.
10. Ellie May spent a week with the city cousin (which involved two round trips up north) during which she got her ears pierced.
Surely there is more. This seems to be such a paltry list considering how much we have all been running around and how little has actually gotten done around here.
I have been gently ragged on a couple of times here lately for not posting, so i am gonna lay this one on ya just to prove that i am not swooning on the fainting couch while popping bonbons, and then come back in with the details.
So many happenings, so little time to tell about them.
And the official countdown is....two weeks from right this minute i will be working my way through the security check at the airport for the first leg of my journey.
This little trip could not have been more well timed.
ALA may not be aware, but i do believe she is saving lives, here.
Lessee, what all have y'all missed?
1. We led Sancho down the primrose path.
2. The Bobs got some Babs.
3. Pearl is a Big Bad Mama.
4. I canned TWO bushels of onions.
5. The Farm Buick died and on the third day arose again.
6. Sparta went to boot camp after a rather comical buck rodeo.
7. Mama hen is MIA, but all 13 chicks are doing well.
8. Susan gifted Ellie May with some frizzels.
9. Earl has begun joining me in the dairy barn at milking time.
10. Ellie May spent a week with the city cousin (which involved two round trips up north) during which she got her ears pierced.
Surely there is more. This seems to be such a paltry list considering how much we have all been running around and how little has actually gotten done around here.
I have been gently ragged on a couple of times here lately for not posting, so i am gonna lay this one on ya just to prove that i am not swooning on the fainting couch while popping bonbons, and then come back in with the details.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Haulin' Hay
Here's the thing about hay....
....it doesn't like to be wet.
Ever.
Which is kinda odd, because when you are growing it, you pray and hope for rain constantly.
But when it is time for bringin' it in, you pray and hope that it DOESN'T rain.
So the cutting was done on Friday, and the weather report called for rain Tuesday evening. The plan was to bale on Monday, and then all the troops would assemble bright and early Tuesday morning to haul it in and stack it.
Surely you have figured out by now that NOTHING goes according to plan in my world.
Sunday evening we had a little cloud burst. Not a long one, but plenty enough to wet everything down and send me into a controlled panic--i was trying to remain calm, because i do believe that The Father's will WILL be done, but the very human part of me was freaking out about not only paying to have the grass cut, but then having to buy hay for the rest of the year at the already sky high prices.
Monday morning was bright and sunny, and late in the morning, Mr. W. came out and "fluffed" the hay, so by late afternoon, it was a dry as it was gonna get.
Around noon, i got a revised weather report.
Oh, by the way, Surprise!!! We forgot to mention...40% chance of thunderstorms Monday evening.
40%.
No way was i gonna roll the dice on that one, with everything that was at stake. Called all the troops, and revised the plan. Susan and ol' Blue couldn't make it on short notice, but thank goodness for The Krew. They showed up about 5pm ready to haul.
Everyone worked, and worked hard and fast.
Mr. W. got about an hour's head start on us, and we pretty much followed him around the pasture.
Being in possession of the position of seniority meant that i got to drive the truck, so i would pull up in the middle of a couple of rows, and all the peeps would fan out.
The Baas would catch the bales as they were tossed to her (and occasionally AT her) and stack them in back.
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Some bales were light as a big box of feathers.
Others were heavy enough to require teamwork.
Some bales were filled with allergens.
Others were used for random drug testing.
Oh. Wait.
LGA Union doesn't do that any more.
Guess George didn't get the memo.
Occasionally bales were used for union breaks.
We watched the fierce looking storm moving in from the west, and were in high gear all the way. Eight kids and two women brought in just under 300 bales in 2 hours and 45 minutes.
We were REALLY HAULIN'.
....it doesn't like to be wet.
Ever.
Which is kinda odd, because when you are growing it, you pray and hope for rain constantly.
But when it is time for bringin' it in, you pray and hope that it DOESN'T rain.
So the cutting was done on Friday, and the weather report called for rain Tuesday evening. The plan was to bale on Monday, and then all the troops would assemble bright and early Tuesday morning to haul it in and stack it.
Surely you have figured out by now that NOTHING goes according to plan in my world.
Sunday evening we had a little cloud burst. Not a long one, but plenty enough to wet everything down and send me into a controlled panic--i was trying to remain calm, because i do believe that The Father's will WILL be done, but the very human part of me was freaking out about not only paying to have the grass cut, but then having to buy hay for the rest of the year at the already sky high prices.
Monday morning was bright and sunny, and late in the morning, Mr. W. came out and "fluffed" the hay, so by late afternoon, it was a dry as it was gonna get.
Around noon, i got a revised weather report.
Oh, by the way, Surprise!!! We forgot to mention...40% chance of thunderstorms Monday evening.
40%.
No way was i gonna roll the dice on that one, with everything that was at stake. Called all the troops, and revised the plan. Susan and ol' Blue couldn't make it on short notice, but thank goodness for The Krew. They showed up about 5pm ready to haul.
Everyone worked, and worked hard and fast.
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| Hey! Look! I got everyone's "good side" all at once! |
The Baas would catch the bales as they were tossed to her (and occasionally AT her) and stack them in back.
.jpg)
Oh. Wait.
LGA Union doesn't do that any more.
Guess George didn't get the memo.
We watched the fierce looking storm moving in from the west, and were in high gear all the way. Eight kids and two women brought in just under 300 bales in 2 hours and 45 minutes.
We were REALLY HAULIN'.
We got the last of it stacked, high fived and whooped and hollered in the sprinkles, brushed and hosed off as best we could, and 10 minutes later it was pouring rain, in a pretty severe storm that lasted most of the night.
How do you spell relief?
I spell it "B-A-R-N-F-U-L-L-O-F-H-A-Y-B-E-F-O-R-E-I-T-S-T-A-R-T-E-D-R-A-I-N-I-N-G."
Many, MANY thanks to The Baas and The Krew. You saved our bacon, and were all so wonderful. You have my undieing love and devotion.
Okay, you had that before, but now you got a whole lot more of it!!
I am especially fond of each and every one of you!!
Thank You
Saturday, May 5, 2012
'Tis The Season
Baling Monday morning, raining Tuesday evening.
Fortunately, The Krew is willing to let me abuse them yet again, and are scheduled to head this way Tuesday morning to haul and stack with us. With luck, Susan and ol' Blue will be here as well, so this portends to be quite a party. (Gonna cook somethin' good, guys, and am on the way to the store right now to get the stuff to make ice cream...how does Earl Grey/Cherry sound? Chocolate/Cayenne? What the heck...how about both!!)
I headed that way in dread, thinking i was fixin' to walk up to a sad sight, but when i got up to it, there was a very pleasant surprise!.
As hard as it may be to believe, we don't have dandelions around here. Plenty of buttercup (which are poisonous,) but no dandelion.
Which is a real shame, because dandelion isn't a weed, it is an amazing herb, starting with it's detoxification and antibacterial properties, therapeutic uses for skin conditions, not to mention its circulatory and joint health benefits. The list goes on and on. It truly is a phenomenal gift that we have been given, and we spend all kinds of time, money and chemicals trying to eradicate it.
But i digress.
Last year, i gathered a bunch of puffballs, and scattered my hope into the wind.
This year, my hopes bloomed rather profusely, but remained hidden behind the tall grasses that nourish our endeavors. They have been quietly manifesting themselves beyond my knowledge and vision. Perhaps there is a lesson there.
Told you i was waxing poetic today.
I did a little happy dance and sent as many of the seeds as i could to the wind.
Am now anxiously looking forward to years of happy harvests!!
(Hey!! I've got it...how about a vanilla bean base with shaved chocolate, toasted coconut, and some of that almond butter we made last week? Gotta go, got ice cream to freeze!)
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Polly Wog
We all know that Uncle Boo is a wild man. A very good, very honorable man, but a wild man.
They say that dogs reflect their owner's personalities.
You are aware that Boo's babies are Jack Russell terriers.
Each one is special, but one in particular is a stand out.
The yarn i am about to unfold is second hand, as told to me by Boo. I am repeating it to the best of my ability, because i think these stories are too good to keep to myself. If i make an error in the tellin', it is unintentional, and completely the fault of the author.
Polly is a "truck dog." She rides with Uncle Boo when he makes his appointed rounds, and apparently is beloved and spoiled rotten by all the folks that Boo works with and for. There have been many stories of her protecting the truck from anyone getting too close, and stories of Polly entertaining the folks on the work sites.
Polly is also something of a cow dog.
Boo runs cattle and maintains a ranch on the side, and has a pack of wild dogs that assist him in his labors.
One evening, Boo and some buddies were sittin' on the porch, enjoying an evening's delights, both the physical beauty of the land and the...ahem...spiritual...if you catch my drift.
In the course of the conversation, some dern fool told Boo he needed to get hisself a real cow dog, to which Boo responded that he was in possession of a cow dog that could cull a specific bovine from the herd, and would be happy to prove his claim, if any of them were willing to put their money where their mouth was.
Wagers were laid on the porch rail, and Boo turned to Polly, who was asnooze at his side, and in a commanding tone said, "Polly, go put Bob in the corral."
Without the aid of caffeine to bring her sensibilities forth from her state of slumber, Polly ran out to the pasture and got in the midst of a large gathering of cattle, circled Bob twice, barking at him, and then jumped up and bit him in the dangly bits. As one might imagine, Bob was responsive, and was chased into the corral by Polly, nipping at his heels.
Polly then ran back to the porch, received a reward, and Boo opened the door to the house so she could go get in her chair to recover from the exertion.
The audience was stunned, and asked to see the feat again, to which Boo replied, "Are you kidding? That dog is 12 years old! She needs to sleep for about six hours before she can do that again."
The next day, Boo took Polly to the pet store and spent the entire winnings--which were quite sizable--on her...a new bed, new sweaters, and all the toys she wanted.
Another day, a neighbor called to say that Bob the Bull had gotten out, so Boo and Polly hopped on the Polaris and went in search of Bob. When they found him, he looked at Polly, and said, "Polly, is Bob at home? I don't think so. Take Bob home!"
Polly jumped out of the vehicle and charged Bob, giving him whatfor, and chased him back home.
Several days later, Bob was laying down with a group of cows he wasn't supposed to be with. Boo tells Polly, "Polly, if you don't get Bob where he is supposed to be, you are gonna be in trouble!"
Polly stood up on the Polaris, barked once, and Bob the Bull promptly high tailed it to where he was supposed to be.
Polaris vehicle: $5000
Bob the Bull: $2000
Polly the Cowdog: Priceless
They say that dogs reflect their owner's personalities.
You are aware that Boo's babies are Jack Russell terriers.
Each one is special, but one in particular is a stand out.
The yarn i am about to unfold is second hand, as told to me by Boo. I am repeating it to the best of my ability, because i think these stories are too good to keep to myself. If i make an error in the tellin', it is unintentional, and completely the fault of the author.
Polly is a "truck dog." She rides with Uncle Boo when he makes his appointed rounds, and apparently is beloved and spoiled rotten by all the folks that Boo works with and for. There have been many stories of her protecting the truck from anyone getting too close, and stories of Polly entertaining the folks on the work sites.
Polly is also something of a cow dog.
Boo runs cattle and maintains a ranch on the side, and has a pack of wild dogs that assist him in his labors.
One evening, Boo and some buddies were sittin' on the porch, enjoying an evening's delights, both the physical beauty of the land and the...ahem...spiritual...if you catch my drift.
In the course of the conversation, some dern fool told Boo he needed to get hisself a real cow dog, to which Boo responded that he was in possession of a cow dog that could cull a specific bovine from the herd, and would be happy to prove his claim, if any of them were willing to put their money where their mouth was.
Wagers were laid on the porch rail, and Boo turned to Polly, who was asnooze at his side, and in a commanding tone said, "Polly, go put Bob in the corral."
Without the aid of caffeine to bring her sensibilities forth from her state of slumber, Polly ran out to the pasture and got in the midst of a large gathering of cattle, circled Bob twice, barking at him, and then jumped up and bit him in the dangly bits. As one might imagine, Bob was responsive, and was chased into the corral by Polly, nipping at his heels.
Polly then ran back to the porch, received a reward, and Boo opened the door to the house so she could go get in her chair to recover from the exertion.
The audience was stunned, and asked to see the feat again, to which Boo replied, "Are you kidding? That dog is 12 years old! She needs to sleep for about six hours before she can do that again."
The next day, Boo took Polly to the pet store and spent the entire winnings--which were quite sizable--on her...a new bed, new sweaters, and all the toys she wanted.
Another day, a neighbor called to say that Bob the Bull had gotten out, so Boo and Polly hopped on the Polaris and went in search of Bob. When they found him, he looked at Polly, and said, "Polly, is Bob at home? I don't think so. Take Bob home!"
Polly jumped out of the vehicle and charged Bob, giving him whatfor, and chased him back home.
Several days later, Bob was laying down with a group of cows he wasn't supposed to be with. Boo tells Polly, "Polly, if you don't get Bob where he is supposed to be, you are gonna be in trouble!"
Polly stood up on the Polaris, barked once, and Bob the Bull promptly high tailed it to where he was supposed to be.
Polaris vehicle: $5000
Bob the Bull: $2000
Polly the Cowdog: Priceless
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Kieron's Chicks
Several weeks before Easter, the grandson of a friend of ours came out for a "visit to the farm."
Usually, when youngsters visit, the favored activities are bottle feeding the baby goaties, and trying to milk the mommas.
We had the Cherry Bombs at that time. All joking aside, they were very cute and full of personality, so i figured that would be the show, and we arraigned the timing of the visit to coincide with feeding and milking time.
Kieron took a look at the Bombs, and wasn't even mildly interested.
Hmmph. What else ya got?
Took him out to the doe yard to give the girlz some treats, but that wasn't doing it, either.
Into the dairy barn for a try at milking....a cursory glance and back out the door.
He headed into the chicken coop with Elly May, and found his bliss.
Kieron loved the chickens, and spent the rest of the visit hunting for eggs and talking turkey chicken.
When it was time to leave, we put a dozen of the found eggs in a carton to take home so that he could have fresh farm eggs for breakfast the next morning.
Kieron was having none of that.
THOSE eggs had baby chicks in them, and he was going to hatch them.
There were some pretty determined negotiations in the car when Grandmother wanted to put the carton in the front seat. Kieron successfully insisted that they would be much safer with him.
The next morning at church, Grandmother informed me that the carton didn't leave his side all night, that it had been carefully wrapped in a towel to keep all the chickies warm, and that the carton, at that very moment was in the car, as the caretaker was unwilling to leave them behind, for fear they might begin hatching and need his assistance.
After church was over, Grandmother was anxious to show off her grandson at coffee hour, but her grandson was MORE anxious to return to the babes.
After returning to the city, there were many phone calls asking about the state and condition of the chicks. Grandmother gave full reports, and when the chicks "hatched," they were brought back to Tails Up for Mama Hen to raise.
And now, just for you, Kieron, here are the chicks, with Mama Hen, who has taken over your duties. You did a great job of taking care of them, young man!!
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| Early morning excursion |
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| Learning to scratch and peck |
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| Getting their feathers. |
Finally, we have a nest of mockingbirds. The babies are always hungry, and the mother is loud and aggressive, but Elly May managed to get this shot.
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