So our being able to consume dairy was a false alarm. It took a couple weeks to build back up in Little Nugget's system, and now we are back to managing severe tummy troubles and other issues.
Incidentally, we also had a gluten exposure, so Beans and I are itchy, scratchy, tummy troubled gals.
What I can say is this: after months without dairy, I thought I would really be excited to delve back into a world of cheese, yogurt, and ice cream but you know what? It wasn't really as good as I remember.
So, I don't ever have to worry about milking a cow at 40 below.
***
The chickens were granted a stay in their death sentences. We ended up knocking out a closet in our living room instead. We have discussed knocking out the closet before, but didn't plan on it being any time soon. After a leisurely morning of playing with the kids, we decided (at 5:00 pm) that the closet should go. So it did.
Demolition and clean up only took a couple hours.
This project added about 8 sq ft to the cabin. This is a lot when your cabin is already only 850 sq ft.
Other changes to the living room involves rearranging the furniture, then decking we are completely done with the television.
Um, this decision may have had something to do with an almost three year old shriekig at the top of her lungs, "I WILL SO watch tv whenever I want and you get my movie RIGHT NOW!"
Hmph.
Daddy wasn't having that little number, and within moments, the flat screen was in a box and in the crawl space.
Oh.
***
The chickens also avoided sudden death today because J helped some friends move into their new home. By the time he got home and remembered thy he wanted to rent a dozer tomorrow to flatten the property, well... Let's just say he's STILL outside getting the rest of the brush cleared in preparation for that. No time for chicken killing.
***
The rest of the farm work is slowly grinding to a halt. A recent cold snap killed off the remaining pumpkin vines (sans pumpkins), and "Tommy Boy" (one of the turkeys who really does look like a fat man in a little coat) got to the last of my green onions. There are still three rows of potatoes to dig up and process, and a handful of tomatoes in the greenhouse trying to decide if they are goig to ripen or give up the ghost. The chickens continue to eat grain an feed without desire to earn their keep. A light and a timer will go
in the coop this weekend, as our daylight hours will finally fall below 14 hours of light.
Now is the season of "puttering".
The time of year where you wander around on the homestead trying to find work with a purpose. Aside from splitting and stacking wood, or making minor repairs, there's not a LOT of work to do. Or I should say, what's left is little tasks- draining and storing hoses, emptying the flower pots, pick up odds and ends debris, but mostly just take in the crisp fall air and wait for everything that's left to die or get buried in snow. There's still enough outdoor work (and sunshine with nice temps) left that you can't justify hunkering down indoors with winter projects, but not enough work to stay perpetually busy. Back in the south, that's what college ball was for.
I puttered a lot today. Let the girls play in the yard, watched J load brush on the trailer. Poked around in the chicken yard and watched Ricky Bobby try to woo the young hens, most of whom are undecided about chicken sex thus far. Enjoyed the fresh air, took in the scenery. Missed tailgate parties a little bit, then puttered around a bit in what's left of the garden. Was glad to go in and get supper on the table. (Salmon, peas, and potato salad, followed up with gluten free/ dairy free chocolate cake and coffee). Called a friend in the lower 48. Puttered some more.
Sure hope we can get a dozer in here tomorrow. All the puttering is driving me crazy. I'm ready for the next big project.
Meanwhile, it is time to sharpen the hatchet.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Monday, September 6, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Shadows
Whoo knows what evils lurk?
*snort*
9 pm. After playing 20 questions with a toddler who didn't care that it was bedtime or that her sister was trying to nurse and sleep, everyone is finally tucked in.
Outside, Alaska makes it's presence known. Night is returning. The 9 pm sky was dusky enough to cause the shadows to play tricks on me. Every dark patch is a potential moose, bear, or wolf. Simple things like a chicken squawking because it was locked out of the coop make you jump out of your skin. I hurried through outside evening chores. Didn't pet chickens or talk to the turkeys as usual. Wanted to get back to the house before the shadows ate me. With the chickens locked up in their coop, I scurried up the path to the house, a watchful eye on the treeline, a skittish glance around the corner of the house to make sure the water was turned off.
Only once I was safely on the front porch did I pause to really survey the scenery. The dark of twilight gave sharp contrast to the yellow hues of the birch and cottonwood trees. Details like peeling bark stand out against those same spooky shadows. A glint of light off an owl feather high in the spruce trees makes me glad the chickens are tucked away. "That's MY dinner" I say out loud to the night predator.
Smoke curls from the neighbor's chimney. Wood smoke is carried through the damp chill of the autumn-like night. I take a deep breath of it. Damp, smoke, rotting leaves, wet dirt, and even yucky chicken yard... I love this season.
I survey the 2.65 acre homestead and think about tomorrow's work. Much to do.
Meanwhile, I should head in and build a fire. It was 36F this morning when I let the chickens out. There was ICE in their waterer. No doubt now. Summer days, driftin' away. That's okay by me. I'm ready to settle down for the big chill.
Farm work is calling this week! We'll begin by butchering a few chickens tomorrow. By Tuesday evening, we'll be eating from our own stock. (For farm rookies, "resting" the meat after butchering makes it more tender. I could tell you the science of that but don't want to offend anyone's taste for meat.) It's a bittersweet occassion for me. I tried hard, but I admit that I love all my little birds. Even the surly rooster that really needs to be butchered because he's come after me twice. He has a name, but I can't print it. Poor guy. He's first on the chopping block.
*Ricky Bobby might be spared. He's a good rooster. It's a toss up between him and another really good fellow. *
We'll only be butchering a few birds- mostly roosters and the Cornish Rocks that were selected as meat birds from the start. We'll do the major culling and butchering once we establish a good laying flock. Still waiting for eggs from the freeloading hens.
Once butchering is done, we'll finish clearing off a portion of the land and try to get a bulldozer in here to level it off. Once that is done, we may be able to get the flock to higher ground.
The potatoes will be harvested this week. The rest of the garden was ripped out and will be tilled under, along with a blend of poo to fester under the snow all winter long. Maybe then we'll get a better garden. If I can get them in time, I'll try to put in garlic starts.
Then, the task that will continue until it's too cold to be outside (because it will neve be "done")- splitting and stacking wood. And even when it's too cold to be outside, J will likely continue to split and stack wood, because it will still need to be done. Me? I'll be knitting by the fire, or homeschooling at the kitchen table, or watching reruns of my favorite Little House episodes on DVD.
I should be reviewing butchering instructions in our poultry raising library.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
*snort*
9 pm. After playing 20 questions with a toddler who didn't care that it was bedtime or that her sister was trying to nurse and sleep, everyone is finally tucked in.
Outside, Alaska makes it's presence known. Night is returning. The 9 pm sky was dusky enough to cause the shadows to play tricks on me. Every dark patch is a potential moose, bear, or wolf. Simple things like a chicken squawking because it was locked out of the coop make you jump out of your skin. I hurried through outside evening chores. Didn't pet chickens or talk to the turkeys as usual. Wanted to get back to the house before the shadows ate me. With the chickens locked up in their coop, I scurried up the path to the house, a watchful eye on the treeline, a skittish glance around the corner of the house to make sure the water was turned off.
Only once I was safely on the front porch did I pause to really survey the scenery. The dark of twilight gave sharp contrast to the yellow hues of the birch and cottonwood trees. Details like peeling bark stand out against those same spooky shadows. A glint of light off an owl feather high in the spruce trees makes me glad the chickens are tucked away. "That's MY dinner" I say out loud to the night predator.
Smoke curls from the neighbor's chimney. Wood smoke is carried through the damp chill of the autumn-like night. I take a deep breath of it. Damp, smoke, rotting leaves, wet dirt, and even yucky chicken yard... I love this season.
I survey the 2.65 acre homestead and think about tomorrow's work. Much to do.
Meanwhile, I should head in and build a fire. It was 36F this morning when I let the chickens out. There was ICE in their waterer. No doubt now. Summer days, driftin' away. That's okay by me. I'm ready to settle down for the big chill.
Farm work is calling this week! We'll begin by butchering a few chickens tomorrow. By Tuesday evening, we'll be eating from our own stock. (For farm rookies, "resting" the meat after butchering makes it more tender. I could tell you the science of that but don't want to offend anyone's taste for meat.) It's a bittersweet occassion for me. I tried hard, but I admit that I love all my little birds. Even the surly rooster that really needs to be butchered because he's come after me twice. He has a name, but I can't print it. Poor guy. He's first on the chopping block.
*Ricky Bobby might be spared. He's a good rooster. It's a toss up between him and another really good fellow. *
We'll only be butchering a few birds- mostly roosters and the Cornish Rocks that were selected as meat birds from the start. We'll do the major culling and butchering once we establish a good laying flock. Still waiting for eggs from the freeloading hens.
Once butchering is done, we'll finish clearing off a portion of the land and try to get a bulldozer in here to level it off. Once that is done, we may be able to get the flock to higher ground.
The potatoes will be harvested this week. The rest of the garden was ripped out and will be tilled under, along with a blend of poo to fester under the snow all winter long. Maybe then we'll get a better garden. If I can get them in time, I'll try to put in garlic starts.
Then, the task that will continue until it's too cold to be outside (because it will neve be "done")- splitting and stacking wood. And even when it's too cold to be outside, J will likely continue to split and stack wood, because it will still need to be done. Me? I'll be knitting by the fire, or homeschooling at the kitchen table, or watching reruns of my favorite Little House episodes on DVD.
I should be reviewing butchering instructions in our poultry raising library.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Wood Rich
Some years ago, a song called "Hood Rich" was a big 'thang'. Not my particular genre, but it was popular during my paramedic days. In Montgomery, AL. So of course, my work partner and I knew all the words.
This song randomly came up in my head today while stacking firewood. That's the only reason I mention it.
Sometimes, when performing an otherwise mundane chore (like stacking firewood), I amuse myself by doing random calculations in my head. I stacked 2 cords of wood today. Going rate for firewood is $250/cord. Between J cutting, hauling, and splitting and me splitting (or splintering) and stacking, we saved ourselves $500. And that's just the first pile of wood we put up.
We are hoping to hav 10-12 cords of wood set up before winter hits.
And we have a head start on next year's wood. All the trees we cut down while clearing land this year has been cut and stacked on the side of the property, creating a wall of wood along the property line.
Other calculations for the day (interpretation: more mundane tasks):
- clean chicken coop: priceless. Seriously.
We built the coop in spring. We covered the roof with plastic until we had time to shingle it. That project fell to the wayside. A recent wind storm (which rivals a few of the tropical storms we experienced in the south) tore the plasic all to bits. We removed the remaining plastic and planned to put up shingles on Wednesday. Unfortunately, the rainy season started on Sunday. Translation: water filled chicken coop.
Anyone who has experince with chickens knows that a chicken coop doesn't smell pretty even at it's very best. Add water, wet hay, wet feathers, mud, and wet manure... Oh my. Disgusting.
We spent the morning tacking up new plastic (in the rain). Then we finally decided we needed to expand the chicken run, because, well, the yard was also flooded. In fact, the yard was essentially mud, straw, and poop. Lots of poop. Chicken yard expanded (in the rain). The chickens are eternally grateful. They ran for higher ground and cackle ridiculously at me until their coop was shoveled and dried out and reparations made. Translation: fresh grain of their choosing and lots of salad greens from the fridge. The roosters also demanded a romp with the hens through the potato patch. Poor potatoes!
I spent the afternoon continuing to muck the coop and find suitable dry bedding. Also fancied up the nest boxes in an attempt to make the hens find it desirable to lay some eggs. Dang freeloading hens. J laughed at me for hanging curtains in the nest boxes. For the record, I have read an heard on good authority that the hens like some privacy for laying. And the darker, cozier environment should keep potential egg eaters out of the nest. J still laughed at the fact that the chickens have curtains and our cabin doesn't. I told him to go be productive. (Or something to that effect.)
J decided to till up the muddy chicken yard. For the record, um, yuck.
The chicken yard is now tilled up mud, straw, and poop. We desperately searched our resources for absorbent materials. We made a haybale walkway surrounding the coop. We dumped sawdust into the soggiest spots. I suggested digging a pond. My suggestion was not well received from the guy cleaning chicken manure and mud off his brand new tiller.
I decided NOT to mention that I had requested a different location for the coop when we built it. I decided NOT to mention that I had pointed out the extremely wet mud pit (the kind that sucks your boot off your foot) right in front of the coop when "they" decided to build it there anyway. I'm not sure the poop covered guy would have been thrilled about a poorly timed "I told you so".
I finished the coop decor and went back to stacking wood.
In the rain.
Priceless. Though I'll be happy to have shingles on the roof as soon as we hit a dry spell.
Land clearing continues. J and the chainsaw are good pals. Rumor has it that he may be ready to rent a 'dozer next week. IF he's not moose hunting instead.
Today is Open Season (moose). Delta Junction is one happening place. Hunters from all over AK are in our woods, trying their luck.
I pulled a 2 gallon pail worth of potatoes out of two rows today. Time to try some
of those recipes.
Jack's Daddy: I liked the 'recipe' you posted, but did you know that McDonald's lists "dairy" and "wheat" (gluten) as INGREDIENTS in their French fries? How weird is that?!? Silly me. I thought French fries were potatoes, oil, and salt.
Oh! Anyone who wants a dog but isn't allowed to have one because your husband doesn't want one (or anyone who just likes
dogs, especially labs) should check out dailydoseofjack.blogspot.com
I confess to shamelessly using Jack as my virtual dog.
Mis Liz: if I could get my hens to lay me eight eggs, your breakfast casserole would be at the top of my list! I might halve the recipe an give it a try, because it sounds so yummy!
Ok. Time's up! Time to tuck babies and birds into their nests for night-night. Then some sleep for this coop muckin', curtain hanging, poop tilling, potato digging, wood stacking TIRED woman!
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
This song randomly came up in my head today while stacking firewood. That's the only reason I mention it.
Sometimes, when performing an otherwise mundane chore (like stacking firewood), I amuse myself by doing random calculations in my head. I stacked 2 cords of wood today. Going rate for firewood is $250/cord. Between J cutting, hauling, and splitting and me splitting (or splintering) and stacking, we saved ourselves $500. And that's just the first pile of wood we put up.
We are hoping to hav 10-12 cords of wood set up before winter hits.
And we have a head start on next year's wood. All the trees we cut down while clearing land this year has been cut and stacked on the side of the property, creating a wall of wood along the property line.
Other calculations for the day (interpretation: more mundane tasks):
- clean chicken coop: priceless. Seriously.
We built the coop in spring. We covered the roof with plastic until we had time to shingle it. That project fell to the wayside. A recent wind storm (which rivals a few of the tropical storms we experienced in the south) tore the plasic all to bits. We removed the remaining plastic and planned to put up shingles on Wednesday. Unfortunately, the rainy season started on Sunday. Translation: water filled chicken coop.
Anyone who has experince with chickens knows that a chicken coop doesn't smell pretty even at it's very best. Add water, wet hay, wet feathers, mud, and wet manure... Oh my. Disgusting.
We spent the morning tacking up new plastic (in the rain). Then we finally decided we needed to expand the chicken run, because, well, the yard was also flooded. In fact, the yard was essentially mud, straw, and poop. Lots of poop. Chicken yard expanded (in the rain). The chickens are eternally grateful. They ran for higher ground and cackle ridiculously at me until their coop was shoveled and dried out and reparations made. Translation: fresh grain of their choosing and lots of salad greens from the fridge. The roosters also demanded a romp with the hens through the potato patch. Poor potatoes!
I spent the afternoon continuing to muck the coop and find suitable dry bedding. Also fancied up the nest boxes in an attempt to make the hens find it desirable to lay some eggs. Dang freeloading hens. J laughed at me for hanging curtains in the nest boxes. For the record, I have read an heard on good authority that the hens like some privacy for laying. And the darker, cozier environment should keep potential egg eaters out of the nest. J still laughed at the fact that the chickens have curtains and our cabin doesn't. I told him to go be productive. (Or something to that effect.)
J decided to till up the muddy chicken yard. For the record, um, yuck.
The chicken yard is now tilled up mud, straw, and poop. We desperately searched our resources for absorbent materials. We made a haybale walkway surrounding the coop. We dumped sawdust into the soggiest spots. I suggested digging a pond. My suggestion was not well received from the guy cleaning chicken manure and mud off his brand new tiller.
I decided NOT to mention that I had requested a different location for the coop when we built it. I decided NOT to mention that I had pointed out the extremely wet mud pit (the kind that sucks your boot off your foot) right in front of the coop when "they" decided to build it there anyway. I'm not sure the poop covered guy would have been thrilled about a poorly timed "I told you so".
I finished the coop decor and went back to stacking wood.
In the rain.
Priceless. Though I'll be happy to have shingles on the roof as soon as we hit a dry spell.
Land clearing continues. J and the chainsaw are good pals. Rumor has it that he may be ready to rent a 'dozer next week. IF he's not moose hunting instead.
Today is Open Season (moose). Delta Junction is one happening place. Hunters from all over AK are in our woods, trying their luck.
I pulled a 2 gallon pail worth of potatoes out of two rows today. Time to try some
of those recipes.
Jack's Daddy: I liked the 'recipe' you posted, but did you know that McDonald's lists "dairy" and "wheat" (gluten) as INGREDIENTS in their French fries? How weird is that?!? Silly me. I thought French fries were potatoes, oil, and salt.
Oh! Anyone who wants a dog but isn't allowed to have one because your husband doesn't want one (or anyone who just likes
dogs, especially labs) should check out dailydoseofjack.blogspot.com
I confess to shamelessly using Jack as my virtual dog.
Mis Liz: if I could get my hens to lay me eight eggs, your breakfast casserole would be at the top of my list! I might halve the recipe an give it a try, because it sounds so yummy!
Ok. Time's up! Time to tuck babies and birds into their nests for night-night. Then some sleep for this coop muckin', curtain hanging, poop tilling, potato digging, wood stacking TIRED woman!
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Thursday, August 26, 2010
One Potato, Two Potato, Three Potato, MOOSE!
That's a recipe for moose stew. Just in case you are having better luck hunting than we are.
I jest.
Actually, that seems to be what is in our garden. I can't recall if I mentioned the humble potato patch. The story goes like this: Never ask you husband to accompany you to the garden store in spring. He might be overwhelmed with all the choices of possible potato crops and decide you need to plant 15 pounds of seed potato.
For non-gardener types, that's a LOT of potatoes. I think I planted 60-70 potato plants. Considering that each potato plant yields 2-6 potatoes, I would say that I would be doing MY part, should we end up in another potato famine. Since that does not seem overwhelmingly likely, I am turning to readers for help.
Please, for the love of all that is good, post potato recipes in the comments. I welcome any and all recipes, though I would prefer not to eat potato soup from now until next year's harvest.
And anyone that knows ways to preserve or store potatoes, speak up. I have so many potatoes that I don't even think I will be able to give them away. (As a side note: family should cautiously open Christmas gifts this year. You all like potatoes, right?? Yup. You can thank me later.)
Meanwhile, a moose has been holding me hostage. It started with J, who decided to cut down a large number of trees on the property. (This decision was in response to several complaints from a wife about not being able to see wildlife lurking in the woods, as well as requests for more farmland. All of my good garden space was taken up by yukons, reds, and bake kings. Ahem.)
I digress.
J proceded to cut down the forest. I can officially see the wildlife lurking about. Um, the wildlife is also wildly attracted to those delectable birch, willow, and cottonwood leaves that were JUST out if reach on those trees. Cutting down the forest essentially the same as opening a Golden Corral in your backyard for the moose, only without the $9 cover charge. A huge cow moose has been grazing for a few days. While this provides lovely photo ops, it also prohibits being able to turn little girls loose to rIde bikes, play in the yard, or even the ability to allow the farmer to let chickens in or out in a timely manner. Apparently, the moose's favorite dining times coincide with exactly when Ricky Bobby likes to be let out, and about the same time as te hens like to be locked back in.
*sigh*
She is a good size moose, and several times a day I lament the fact that we don't live in a hunting area, and that you can't just go shooting a cow moose. (Restrictions apply). It would make hunting season so easy. And so OVER. And it would be a nice addition to the potatoes. Alas, I must relinquish my husband to the woods for yet another week, to try his luck.
This is why it is called "hunting" and not "shooting".
In other news, the chickens are frustrating me. I want eggs. The older hens are going through a molt. I am rationing the precious eggs. I refuse to buy them. I have chickens. It would be insane to buy eggs, right? The young hens seem to be more interested in downing bag upon bag of organic feed, with no thought to how they plan to repay the debt. I am starting to notice decent sized drumsticks on them all.
The rest of the farm is slowing down. Other than harvesting potaotes and allowing Beans and Nugget to raid what's left of the snap pea vines, there is little left growing. Some ailing carrots, some beets and lettuce (all bolting and destined for the chicken coop), a handful more onions, and some ailing pumpkin vines that have flowered but have little interest in forming actual pumpkins (so it seems). The greenhouse holds a few more tomatoes trying to ripen, a cucumber or two, and a handful more carrots, but it is not likely to produce much more.
I've come to terms with a token nod from the garden this year. Fir our first year breaking ground, and managing the garden among toddlers, well...
At least there is the potatoes.
Next year holds better planning, and better soil. I hope.
There is a more permanent chill in the air. The woodstove seems to be in operation at least once a day for a short fire to knock the chill off. The last couple days have not even crept above 60. The next few weeks will be spent dismantling the garden... Harvesting what's left, somehow preserving it, then tilling in all that lovely byproduct of chicken farming.
And stacking wood. Lots and lots of stacking wood.
A cool breeze stirs up outside. I sip an Earl Grey tea and watch the moose taunt Ricky Bobby. I can hear him
clucking his disapproval at her mere precense in the garden. I chuckle and wonder if she would eat some of the potaotes for
me. The wood fire crackles. The house smells like autumn. I decide to pull a chair close to the door so
I can knit as I watch the moose eat what's left of the forest. I hope she moves on before dark, so I can get the birds back
in the coop.
I look forward to potato recipes from y'all! Extra "points" if they are gluten free, but Nugget has recovered from the dairy allergy, so we gladly welcome cheesey, milky deliciousness with our potatoes! And if your recipe contains gluten, don't panic. Post it anyway. I'm good at adapting, at least in the kitchen. Any superb recipes we try will ge reprinted here with appropriate credit and honorable
mention on the blog! That goes for preserving tips as well.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
I jest.
Actually, that seems to be what is in our garden. I can't recall if I mentioned the humble potato patch. The story goes like this: Never ask you husband to accompany you to the garden store in spring. He might be overwhelmed with all the choices of possible potato crops and decide you need to plant 15 pounds of seed potato.
For non-gardener types, that's a LOT of potatoes. I think I planted 60-70 potato plants. Considering that each potato plant yields 2-6 potatoes, I would say that I would be doing MY part, should we end up in another potato famine. Since that does not seem overwhelmingly likely, I am turning to readers for help.
Please, for the love of all that is good, post potato recipes in the comments. I welcome any and all recipes, though I would prefer not to eat potato soup from now until next year's harvest.
And anyone that knows ways to preserve or store potatoes, speak up. I have so many potatoes that I don't even think I will be able to give them away. (As a side note: family should cautiously open Christmas gifts this year. You all like potatoes, right?? Yup. You can thank me later.)
Meanwhile, a moose has been holding me hostage. It started with J, who decided to cut down a large number of trees on the property. (This decision was in response to several complaints from a wife about not being able to see wildlife lurking in the woods, as well as requests for more farmland. All of my good garden space was taken up by yukons, reds, and bake kings. Ahem.)
I digress.
J proceded to cut down the forest. I can officially see the wildlife lurking about. Um, the wildlife is also wildly attracted to those delectable birch, willow, and cottonwood leaves that were JUST out if reach on those trees. Cutting down the forest essentially the same as opening a Golden Corral in your backyard for the moose, only without the $9 cover charge. A huge cow moose has been grazing for a few days. While this provides lovely photo ops, it also prohibits being able to turn little girls loose to rIde bikes, play in the yard, or even the ability to allow the farmer to let chickens in or out in a timely manner. Apparently, the moose's favorite dining times coincide with exactly when Ricky Bobby likes to be let out, and about the same time as te hens like to be locked back in.
*sigh*
She is a good size moose, and several times a day I lament the fact that we don't live in a hunting area, and that you can't just go shooting a cow moose. (Restrictions apply). It would make hunting season so easy. And so OVER. And it would be a nice addition to the potatoes. Alas, I must relinquish my husband to the woods for yet another week, to try his luck.
This is why it is called "hunting" and not "shooting".
In other news, the chickens are frustrating me. I want eggs. The older hens are going through a molt. I am rationing the precious eggs. I refuse to buy them. I have chickens. It would be insane to buy eggs, right? The young hens seem to be more interested in downing bag upon bag of organic feed, with no thought to how they plan to repay the debt. I am starting to notice decent sized drumsticks on them all.
The rest of the farm is slowing down. Other than harvesting potaotes and allowing Beans and Nugget to raid what's left of the snap pea vines, there is little left growing. Some ailing carrots, some beets and lettuce (all bolting and destined for the chicken coop), a handful more onions, and some ailing pumpkin vines that have flowered but have little interest in forming actual pumpkins (so it seems). The greenhouse holds a few more tomatoes trying to ripen, a cucumber or two, and a handful more carrots, but it is not likely to produce much more.
I've come to terms with a token nod from the garden this year. Fir our first year breaking ground, and managing the garden among toddlers, well...
At least there is the potatoes.
Next year holds better planning, and better soil. I hope.
There is a more permanent chill in the air. The woodstove seems to be in operation at least once a day for a short fire to knock the chill off. The last couple days have not even crept above 60. The next few weeks will be spent dismantling the garden... Harvesting what's left, somehow preserving it, then tilling in all that lovely byproduct of chicken farming.
And stacking wood. Lots and lots of stacking wood.
A cool breeze stirs up outside. I sip an Earl Grey tea and watch the moose taunt Ricky Bobby. I can hear him
clucking his disapproval at her mere precense in the garden. I chuckle and wonder if she would eat some of the potaotes for
me. The wood fire crackles. The house smells like autumn. I decide to pull a chair close to the door so
I can knit as I watch the moose eat what's left of the forest. I hope she moves on before dark, so I can get the birds back
in the coop.
I look forward to potato recipes from y'all! Extra "points" if they are gluten free, but Nugget has recovered from the dairy allergy, so we gladly welcome cheesey, milky deliciousness with our potatoes! And if your recipe contains gluten, don't panic. Post it anyway. I'm good at adapting, at least in the kitchen. Any superb recipes we try will ge reprinted here with appropriate credit and honorable
mention on the blog! That goes for preserving tips as well.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Friday, August 20, 2010
Mending
I am on the mend. I'm not (much) of a complainer when I'm sick, but this one has been a toughie! Yesterday, J even called out from
work to take care of me and the girls, as I pretty much hit that level of sickness where you just become good for nuthin'.
J did a great job. The girls were happy to have their Pappa home. The chickens didn't starve. I didn't have to make my own hot tea. Other than nursing Nugget, nothing was required of me. Other than being woken up a few times by Beans to find out if I was feeling better, I slept most of the day away.
Oh, that was nice.
Feeling better is nicer, though. And while I'm not 100%, I am better than good for nuthin', so J headed off to work while i begged the girls back to bed. "We are laying in bed like slugs today!" I declared.
They weren't buying it, though they did humor me for a short while. And they were content to have a low-key day today.
The weather helps.
Yup. I'm gonna say that autumn is creeping in on us.
The temps hover in the 60s. The nights dip into the 40s. Dark happens each evening, earlier and earlier each day. The chickens turn in to roost before I even head out to lock them up for the night. They fluff their feathers in a huff at the chilly air I let into the coop in the morning.
As I went about the daily chores, I noticed the leaves turning yellow, and noticed more than a few piles of leaves falling to the ground.
This IS my favorite time of year.
When J called from work today, we found ourselves simultaneously longing for hot apple cider. I'll have to see if I can find some this early in the year. Now if I could just find a pumpkin patch, I would feel complete.
Alas... I've had no luck locating one in Interior Alaska. (Though I am futiley trying to grow them in my garden!)
As the sun sinks in the backyard, I realize it won't be long before I need a lantern to accompany me to the hen house at night. And a coat.
We had a fire in the wood stove last night. A little too warm by the time we were settled, really, but the season is coming.
***
For those who have asked:
No, we haven't gotten Internet at home. The iPhone manages to pick up the 2G network (yes, the TWO G), as long as the wind isn't blowing too hard. (No. I'm not kidding. Or exaggerating.) Hopefully that explains the sudden increase in typos, strange formatting, and occassionally bizarre sentences and words that don't make sense (darn you, auto-spell!) They drive me crazy, too. I am normally WAY too fussy and ahem, retentive, to tolerate poor grammar, incomplete thoughts, or otherwise incongruent writing. Unfortunately, if I try to spell-check, proofread, or edit, strange and bizarre things happen- like my posts get eaten.
Farm News:
the old hens are coming out of their egg strike. Thank goodness. I actually had enough eggs to scramble some
the other day, instead of rationing them out for baking.
The new hens are still not laying.
It shouldn't be long though... The new roosters are desperately trying to court the ladies. This is a sure sign that the roosters think the gals are old enough to start leaving the potential next generation in the nest boxes.
Also, the new roosters have been testing out their vocals. Seems we have four new roosters in our flock. Their pathetic new crows are giving Ricky Bobby the fits. He spends most of each day at the fence that separates him from these new "enemies", crowing out his own place in the barnyard, and puffing himself up to look twice his actual size. Poor fellow. I remind him several times a day that these new boys are stewpot bound. He cares not.
Cock-a-doodle-do.
I hope our neighbors don't hate us by butchering time.
Getting dusky. I am off to tuck the hens into bed before it gets too dark.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
work to take care of me and the girls, as I pretty much hit that level of sickness where you just become good for nuthin'.
J did a great job. The girls were happy to have their Pappa home. The chickens didn't starve. I didn't have to make my own hot tea. Other than nursing Nugget, nothing was required of me. Other than being woken up a few times by Beans to find out if I was feeling better, I slept most of the day away.
Oh, that was nice.
Feeling better is nicer, though. And while I'm not 100%, I am better than good for nuthin', so J headed off to work while i begged the girls back to bed. "We are laying in bed like slugs today!" I declared.
They weren't buying it, though they did humor me for a short while. And they were content to have a low-key day today.
The weather helps.
Yup. I'm gonna say that autumn is creeping in on us.
The temps hover in the 60s. The nights dip into the 40s. Dark happens each evening, earlier and earlier each day. The chickens turn in to roost before I even head out to lock them up for the night. They fluff their feathers in a huff at the chilly air I let into the coop in the morning.
As I went about the daily chores, I noticed the leaves turning yellow, and noticed more than a few piles of leaves falling to the ground.
This IS my favorite time of year.
When J called from work today, we found ourselves simultaneously longing for hot apple cider. I'll have to see if I can find some this early in the year. Now if I could just find a pumpkin patch, I would feel complete.
Alas... I've had no luck locating one in Interior Alaska. (Though I am futiley trying to grow them in my garden!)
As the sun sinks in the backyard, I realize it won't be long before I need a lantern to accompany me to the hen house at night. And a coat.
We had a fire in the wood stove last night. A little too warm by the time we were settled, really, but the season is coming.
***
For those who have asked:
No, we haven't gotten Internet at home. The iPhone manages to pick up the 2G network (yes, the TWO G), as long as the wind isn't blowing too hard. (No. I'm not kidding. Or exaggerating.) Hopefully that explains the sudden increase in typos, strange formatting, and occassionally bizarre sentences and words that don't make sense (darn you, auto-spell!) They drive me crazy, too. I am normally WAY too fussy and ahem, retentive, to tolerate poor grammar, incomplete thoughts, or otherwise incongruent writing. Unfortunately, if I try to spell-check, proofread, or edit, strange and bizarre things happen- like my posts get eaten.
Farm News:
the old hens are coming out of their egg strike. Thank goodness. I actually had enough eggs to scramble some
the other day, instead of rationing them out for baking.
The new hens are still not laying.
It shouldn't be long though... The new roosters are desperately trying to court the ladies. This is a sure sign that the roosters think the gals are old enough to start leaving the potential next generation in the nest boxes.
Also, the new roosters have been testing out their vocals. Seems we have four new roosters in our flock. Their pathetic new crows are giving Ricky Bobby the fits. He spends most of each day at the fence that separates him from these new "enemies", crowing out his own place in the barnyard, and puffing himself up to look twice his actual size. Poor fellow. I remind him several times a day that these new boys are stewpot bound. He cares not.
Cock-a-doodle-do.
I hope our neighbors don't hate us by butchering time.
Getting dusky. I am off to tuck the hens into bed before it gets too dark.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Tupped Up
Sorry for the lack of posting. The girls definitely decided my life would not be complete without their cold. I've been mouth breathing all week and really would just prefer to be in a hot bath or sleeping than anything else.
While moms don't really get sick days (not the laying around in bed all day, luxurious hot bath soak types, anyway), Beans has been bringing me juice boxes and tissues while Nugget pats me on the head and says, "Oh! Baby!"
J has proven himself as the best husband in the world... taking over homestead and farm chores (because chickens don't care if you are sick), doing the "hard" (monotonous) work with the kids, and even cooking a couple meals, and doing it without complaint. I haven't even once heard how he could be out stalking moose right now. That IS a good sick day!
The girls are tucked in early tonight. J even volunteered to wash the dishes and lock up the chickens. The tea kettle is going and I am just the right kind of tired and sick to hunker down under a good momma-made blanket (MY momma, that is! Makes me feel like she's here tucking me in on a sick day) with a hot tea and a new knitting book- until I get sleepy enough to doze off and sleep some of this cold off.
Meanwhile, the woodstove is crackling. It never made it out of the 60s today, and the evening air is around 46F.
The sky is overcast and rainy. The perfect day for sleeping off feeling crummy.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
While moms don't really get sick days (not the laying around in bed all day, luxurious hot bath soak types, anyway), Beans has been bringing me juice boxes and tissues while Nugget pats me on the head and says, "Oh! Baby!"
J has proven himself as the best husband in the world... taking over homestead and farm chores (because chickens don't care if you are sick), doing the "hard" (monotonous) work with the kids, and even cooking a couple meals, and doing it without complaint. I haven't even once heard how he could be out stalking moose right now. That IS a good sick day!
The girls are tucked in early tonight. J even volunteered to wash the dishes and lock up the chickens. The tea kettle is going and I am just the right kind of tired and sick to hunker down under a good momma-made blanket (MY momma, that is! Makes me feel like she's here tucking me in on a sick day) with a hot tea and a new knitting book- until I get sleepy enough to doze off and sleep some of this cold off.
Meanwhile, the woodstove is crackling. It never made it out of the 60s today, and the evening air is around 46F.
The sky is overcast and rainy. The perfect day for sleeping off feeling crummy.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Sunday, August 15, 2010
What A Tease
Oh, Autumn!
Such a tease.
I was folding lovely, cozy, warm long sleeves today... In 80 degree heat.
Ok, so I feel a little sheepish compaining about a "measley" 80 degrees when most people are sweating in 100+, but for us... Well, it's uncomfortably warm. And after such wonderful football weather, too!
That is the nature of early Autumn, though... Especially in Alaska.
The sky still holds promise, though. The sun hangs a little lower in the sky these days, and the willows and aspens have started to change color. I wonder what the drive to Fairbanks is going to look like this week? Seems like the drive through Salcha and up to Fairbanks always shows a little more progress through the changing seasons.
The weekend passed uneventfully.
Well... Mostly.
The girls woke this morning and each of them let out a series of sneezes, complete with boogers hanging to the chin.
A virus.
Just what I wanted.
On the other hand, it explains why no amount of consolation, story reading, or Popsicles made anyone happy last night, and why I was up a half dozen times tucking everyone back into bed well after everyone should have been dreaming.
Ah, well.
Sick girls are also sleepy girls, which usually means a very S-L-O-W pace here. When the girls are sick, I throw all rules and routines out the door. We eat Popsicles for breakfast. And maybe lunch. And dinner. We watch movies all day. We drink unlimited quantity of juice (at least until a couple hours before bedtime, because otherwise I am guaranteed to be up several times in the night for the potty). I offer healthy food and stories and such, but other than nap time and bed time, I force nothing on sick days.
With the girls content to drain juice boxes and watch "The Bee Movie" for the zillionth time in a row today (Beans' favorite), I attempted to ignore my own throat tickling and begged my own case of the sniffles to be on account of dust or something.
Moms don't really get sick days, ya know.
I grabbed a pitchfork and headed to the chicken coop. It needed cleaning. Bad. The scent of ammonia was enough to clear my sinuses, and I shoveled manure out of the coop. I also fussed a bit, trying to make the nest boxes look like very attractive places to lay eggs. I do hope the hens start laying soon. A $25 bag of organic feed and a $8 bag of barley once a week starts to add up. Time for some of these gals to earn their keep!
While most of the birds scrambled off in a panic when I entered the coop, a couple poked their heads back in through to door to check on my progress. They are content to listen to me talk to myself out there. I tried asking them when they would start laying eggs. They only clucked dejectedly in reply. I hope that means, "tomorrow" in chickenese.
Meanwhile, "Tommy Boy", the largest of our two turkeys, has taken to following me around like a lovestruck teenager. He comes to the fence and coos at me. If I'm in the yard, he fans his tail feathers and struts around like he's the king of the hill. When I tell him he's not my type and shoo him off, he sulks, and then chases the hens around the yard. Then he comes back and coos at me, as if to say, "See how big and tough I am? Give me some sugar, baby."
Yes. I know I personify my Thanksgiving dinner too much.
I collected a few meager offerings from the garden, including our first ripe tomato fro
the greenhouse. Beans and I aet half of it, and added the other half to our dinner. Beans wants me to be sure to say we had steak soup for dinner. "Because I'm do not like beef stew, ok Momma?"
For the record, the ingredients in "steak soup" are the same as "beef soup" but if calling it "steak soup" means she eats something besides Popsicles today, well then, steak soup it was.
Nugget decided the only thing worth eating today was momma milk. So it was.
The house is quiet. The ceiling fans have a steady rythym as they move warm air around the house. Both girls have a little nasaly, wheezy snore as they doze in their beds. The sun sinks a little lower than this time yesterday.
I sip on hot tea. Alas, I can no longer pretend that I don't have the girls' cold.
Time to tuck the birds in for the night, and then do the same for myself.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Such a tease.
I was folding lovely, cozy, warm long sleeves today... In 80 degree heat.
Ok, so I feel a little sheepish compaining about a "measley" 80 degrees when most people are sweating in 100+, but for us... Well, it's uncomfortably warm. And after such wonderful football weather, too!
That is the nature of early Autumn, though... Especially in Alaska.
The sky still holds promise, though. The sun hangs a little lower in the sky these days, and the willows and aspens have started to change color. I wonder what the drive to Fairbanks is going to look like this week? Seems like the drive through Salcha and up to Fairbanks always shows a little more progress through the changing seasons.
The weekend passed uneventfully.
Well... Mostly.
The girls woke this morning and each of them let out a series of sneezes, complete with boogers hanging to the chin.
A virus.
Just what I wanted.
On the other hand, it explains why no amount of consolation, story reading, or Popsicles made anyone happy last night, and why I was up a half dozen times tucking everyone back into bed well after everyone should have been dreaming.
Ah, well.
Sick girls are also sleepy girls, which usually means a very S-L-O-W pace here. When the girls are sick, I throw all rules and routines out the door. We eat Popsicles for breakfast. And maybe lunch. And dinner. We watch movies all day. We drink unlimited quantity of juice (at least until a couple hours before bedtime, because otherwise I am guaranteed to be up several times in the night for the potty). I offer healthy food and stories and such, but other than nap time and bed time, I force nothing on sick days.
With the girls content to drain juice boxes and watch "The Bee Movie" for the zillionth time in a row today (Beans' favorite), I attempted to ignore my own throat tickling and begged my own case of the sniffles to be on account of dust or something.
Moms don't really get sick days, ya know.
I grabbed a pitchfork and headed to the chicken coop. It needed cleaning. Bad. The scent of ammonia was enough to clear my sinuses, and I shoveled manure out of the coop. I also fussed a bit, trying to make the nest boxes look like very attractive places to lay eggs. I do hope the hens start laying soon. A $25 bag of organic feed and a $8 bag of barley once a week starts to add up. Time for some of these gals to earn their keep!
While most of the birds scrambled off in a panic when I entered the coop, a couple poked their heads back in through to door to check on my progress. They are content to listen to me talk to myself out there. I tried asking them when they would start laying eggs. They only clucked dejectedly in reply. I hope that means, "tomorrow" in chickenese.
Meanwhile, "Tommy Boy", the largest of our two turkeys, has taken to following me around like a lovestruck teenager. He comes to the fence and coos at me. If I'm in the yard, he fans his tail feathers and struts around like he's the king of the hill. When I tell him he's not my type and shoo him off, he sulks, and then chases the hens around the yard. Then he comes back and coos at me, as if to say, "See how big and tough I am? Give me some sugar, baby."
Yes. I know I personify my Thanksgiving dinner too much.
I collected a few meager offerings from the garden, including our first ripe tomato fro
the greenhouse. Beans and I aet half of it, and added the other half to our dinner. Beans wants me to be sure to say we had steak soup for dinner. "Because I'm do not like beef stew, ok Momma?"
For the record, the ingredients in "steak soup" are the same as "beef soup" but if calling it "steak soup" means she eats something besides Popsicles today, well then, steak soup it was.
Nugget decided the only thing worth eating today was momma milk. So it was.
The house is quiet. The ceiling fans have a steady rythym as they move warm air around the house. Both girls have a little nasaly, wheezy snore as they doze in their beds. The sun sinks a little lower than this time yesterday.
I sip on hot tea. Alas, I can no longer pretend that I don't have the girls' cold.
Time to tuck the birds in for the night, and then do the same for myself.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
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