This is Spike saying Hello!
This is Spike discovering my camera strap-
This is my camera being hurled to the ground, landing in wet straw and goat turds.
Archie - Wasn't me.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
A Series of Unfortunate Events
This is my Spikey-boy-
This is Spike saying Hello!
This is Spike discovering my camera strap-
This is my camera being hurled to the ground, landing in wet straw and goat turds.
Archie - Wasn't me.
This is Spike saying Hello!
This is Spike discovering my camera strap-
This is my camera being hurled to the ground, landing in wet straw and goat turds.
Archie - Wasn't me.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
The Bright Side of Bad Weather
Last night we got wailed on over here in Western Washington. The winds were as high as 60 mph, and let me tell you, being inside a little old house in a little hollow on a peninsula doesn't help to lessen the feeling of living in a wind tunnel in any way. After a night of howling and banging, I was scared to go outside this morning and see what might be missing, and/or freshly impaled by a tree limb.
But the goats wait for no wimp, so I had just decided to suck it up and go outside for morning critter patrol when I felt my couch gently, rather soothingly, rock back and forth under me. Yes indeed, we had ourselves an earthquake.
It was a small one, especially by West Coast standards, just a lil' 4.2, but fresh on top of a clobbering windstorm it was a little unsettling.
I sat back down for a few more minutes to wig-out on facebook. Am I nuts or did we just have a little earthquake? Almost immediately, my cousin Jen seconded my quake theory, and a quick trip to the USGS website confirmed it. Yikes what a morning! When do the other plagues arrive? I'm hoping that the four horsemen of the apocalypse get food poisoning or take a wrong turn at Albuquerque or something on the way to my house. I've had plenty of excitement for one day, thanks.
Anyway, beyond the inconvenience of navigating my house by head-lamp and this morning's initial world-coming-apart-at-the-seams paranoia, all inhabitants of Boggy Hollow escaped mother nature's wrath unharmed, which I will call blessing number one.
Blessing number two came from the skies in the form of limbs and branches. The wind knocked down a lot of tender branch tips as well as quite a few heftier limbs. The goats LOVE a good fresh evergreen tree and there were literally tons of them laying in the streets throughout the city. I only needed to go about 20 feet from my front yard to collect a yard cart full of them from the street in front of my neighbor's house. I'd say that we jammed a good 30 pounds of Douglas Fir needles & branch bits into my cart, which will supplement the goats' hay & sweet feed rations quite nicely, for free.
I may go get another cart load from a little further down the lane, but for now I'm going to chalk up my free goat chow score and my safe little house as my wins for the day, and sit back with a hot cup of coffee and a blazing fire and just enjoy my many blessings, in whatever strange forms they choose to present themselves.
But the goats wait for no wimp, so I had just decided to suck it up and go outside for morning critter patrol when I felt my couch gently, rather soothingly, rock back and forth under me. Yes indeed, we had ourselves an earthquake.
It was a small one, especially by West Coast standards, just a lil' 4.2, but fresh on top of a clobbering windstorm it was a little unsettling.
I sat back down for a few more minutes to wig-out on facebook. Am I nuts or did we just have a little earthquake? Almost immediately, my cousin Jen seconded my quake theory, and a quick trip to the USGS website confirmed it. Yikes what a morning! When do the other plagues arrive? I'm hoping that the four horsemen of the apocalypse get food poisoning or take a wrong turn at Albuquerque or something on the way to my house. I've had plenty of excitement for one day, thanks.
Anyway, beyond the inconvenience of navigating my house by head-lamp and this morning's initial world-coming-apart-at-the-seams paranoia, all inhabitants of Boggy Hollow escaped mother nature's wrath unharmed, which I will call blessing number one.
Blessing number two came from the skies in the form of limbs and branches. The wind knocked down a lot of tender branch tips as well as quite a few heftier limbs. The goats LOVE a good fresh evergreen tree and there were literally tons of them laying in the streets throughout the city. I only needed to go about 20 feet from my front yard to collect a yard cart full of them from the street in front of my neighbor's house. I'd say that we jammed a good 30 pounds of Douglas Fir needles & branch bits into my cart, which will supplement the goats' hay & sweet feed rations quite nicely, for free.
I may go get another cart load from a little further down the lane, but for now I'm going to chalk up my free goat chow score and my safe little house as my wins for the day, and sit back with a hot cup of coffee and a blazing fire and just enjoy my many blessings, in whatever strange forms they choose to present themselves.
Monday, November 15, 2010
For my fellow Cheese Fiends
My homegirl, Suzanne over at Chickens in the Road is giving away a boatload of home cheesemaking supplies to one lucky winner.
Check it out here- Do you know Jack?
I'm not only hoping to win these, but to use them soon too, as we *think* our little goat princess is going into heat, and have found a sweet boy to breed her to which should equal goat cheese for us as early as late spring. Viva el queso de cabra!
Check it out here- Do you know Jack?
I'm not only hoping to win these, but to use them soon too, as we *think* our little goat princess is going into heat, and have found a sweet boy to breed her to which should equal goat cheese for us as early as late spring. Viva el queso de cabra!
Sunday, October 31, 2010
It's the Water - Keepin' it Real, Oly-style
Even if you've never been to, never heard of my home town of Olympia, odds are you've still heard of our beer.
Olympia Beer has always been considered a working-man's type of beer. A simple, refreshing lager, who's biggest selling point, as well as it's slogan was "the water". The brewery was located right next to the Deschutes river, and essentially right on top of one of our city's many artesian springs, thus providing multiple sources of naturally ultra-pure water for brewing. Leopold Schmidt, the founder of the Olympia brewery, recognized that starting with pure, crystal-clear artesian water was the key to making a superior beer. Around here, it seems that people agreed. Olympia beer was once carried by nearly every tavern and pub in the Pacific Northwest and was the preferred beer for my Grandpa's generation. Alas, long story short, the Schmidt family sold the brewery, which eventually ended up being owned by Miller (who was at that time partly owned by the evil Philip Morris Company), who rather quickly after purchasing the plant, decided that it wasn't profitable enough and summarily shuttered the brewery for good, choosing instead to brew Olympia beer out of it's Irwindale, California plant.
If you're still with me after this seemingly random crash course in the ups and downs of our local beer, hang in there, I'm getting to my point. ;)
The basis, the inspiration and the slogan for Olympia beer has always been "It's the Water", and once upon a time it was. Now the artesian wells that used to supply and endless flow of naturally perfect water sit unused, their precious water re-routed to storm drains and sewage pipes, an utter waste. Meanwhile, Miller is making our city's beer with God knows what kind of municipal, probably chlorinated, fluoridated water that they simply filter the bejeezus out of. It's not the same.
And so after paragraphs of rambling and bitching, I finally arrive at my point. I will not go gently into that good night. I am an Olympia girl, born and raised and a tree-hugging granola to boot. There still exist just a handful of the once abundant artesian spring wells around town, the best known of which is in a downtown parking lot, of all places, flowing quite unglamourously out of crooked pipe, burbling 24/7 for anyone who wants a cool drink. And many do! People bring empty milk jugs and giant Culligan water bottles down to the Diamond Lot to fill with the one-of-a-kind water. Local restaurants boast about serving the artesian water. It's reputation is such that it is a selling point for them.
So, when Bill and I held our mini brew-fest this past weekend, it was a no-brainer that we would use the artesian water as the basis for our wine and beer. It may not be fancy, but the difference in taste - especially when compared with our well water - is obvious. The result is a better, purer-tasting brew, with the fringe benefit of stickin' it to the man. Awww yeahhh....
And so it is with my stubborn, hippy chick, fight-the-power attitude that a new, finnicky generation of home brewers like us insist on sticking by the old ways for the sake of (barring any brewing mishaps) a superior brew. I think you'll agree that not only is it the water that makes all the difference, but the passion for the craft.
If you ever find yourself in our soggy little neck of the woods, stop by and have a pint of Bill's Pilsner (tentatively named "The Billsner") or a glass of my rhubarb wine and tell me if you can taste the difference. ;)
Olympia Beer has always been considered a working-man's type of beer. A simple, refreshing lager, who's biggest selling point, as well as it's slogan was "the water". The brewery was located right next to the Deschutes river, and essentially right on top of one of our city's many artesian springs, thus providing multiple sources of naturally ultra-pure water for brewing. Leopold Schmidt, the founder of the Olympia brewery, recognized that starting with pure, crystal-clear artesian water was the key to making a superior beer. Around here, it seems that people agreed. Olympia beer was once carried by nearly every tavern and pub in the Pacific Northwest and was the preferred beer for my Grandpa's generation. Alas, long story short, the Schmidt family sold the brewery, which eventually ended up being owned by Miller (who was at that time partly owned by the evil Philip Morris Company), who rather quickly after purchasing the plant, decided that it wasn't profitable enough and summarily shuttered the brewery for good, choosing instead to brew Olympia beer out of it's Irwindale, California plant.
If you're still with me after this seemingly random crash course in the ups and downs of our local beer, hang in there, I'm getting to my point. ;)
The basis, the inspiration and the slogan for Olympia beer has always been "It's the Water", and once upon a time it was. Now the artesian wells that used to supply and endless flow of naturally perfect water sit unused, their precious water re-routed to storm drains and sewage pipes, an utter waste. Meanwhile, Miller is making our city's beer with God knows what kind of municipal, probably chlorinated, fluoridated water that they simply filter the bejeezus out of. It's not the same.
And so after paragraphs of rambling and bitching, I finally arrive at my point. I will not go gently into that good night. I am an Olympia girl, born and raised and a tree-hugging granola to boot. There still exist just a handful of the once abundant artesian spring wells around town, the best known of which is in a downtown parking lot, of all places, flowing quite unglamourously out of crooked pipe, burbling 24/7 for anyone who wants a cool drink. And many do! People bring empty milk jugs and giant Culligan water bottles down to the Diamond Lot to fill with the one-of-a-kind water. Local restaurants boast about serving the artesian water. It's reputation is such that it is a selling point for them.
So, when Bill and I held our mini brew-fest this past weekend, it was a no-brainer that we would use the artesian water as the basis for our wine and beer. It may not be fancy, but the difference in taste - especially when compared with our well water - is obvious. The result is a better, purer-tasting brew, with the fringe benefit of stickin' it to the man. Awww yeahhh....
And so it is with my stubborn, hippy chick, fight-the-power attitude that a new, finnicky generation of home brewers like us insist on sticking by the old ways for the sake of (barring any brewing mishaps) a superior brew. I think you'll agree that not only is it the water that makes all the difference, but the passion for the craft.
If you ever find yourself in our soggy little neck of the woods, stop by and have a pint of Bill's Pilsner (tentatively named "The Billsner") or a glass of my rhubarb wine and tell me if you can taste the difference. ;)
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Inspirational Reading (the goat edition)
Tonight I'm up late glued to a book called "Goat Song". Yes, really.
Who am I, and why have I got the Goat Fever all of a sudden? I'm simply besotted of my sweet, curious, playful little goats, and I can't get enough information about them at the moment. It is my unfortunate experience, however, that most critter-related reading is either the cold and clinical kind or - worse yet - the I wub my putty-tat!!! variety. Egads, NO. No Chicken Soup for the Goatherd's Soul, for me, thank you.
Goat Song is actually quite poetically written, by a man who's relationship with his goats has become, by his own description, a quiet, symbiotic paradise of a sort. He describes the milking of his does as a time of quiet meditation for he and the doe alike. He further details the nitty-gritty, down and dirty details of animal keeping (sometimes in very graphic detail), interspersed with bits of the story of the history of the human/herd animal relationship through the millennia, with heavy meditations on what it means to be so life-and-death linked with another creature whom you sustain and in turn sustains you. It's good reading - educational, inspirational and so sweetly written.
In the end, it really just compels me to dive further and faster into this goat herding thing for the joy and satisfaction that there is to be found in it.
And his description of eating his hours-old chèvre rolled in homegrown herbs or honey is enough to get me chomping at the bit to get our Miss Gertie bred this fall.
Who am I, and why have I got the Goat Fever all of a sudden? I'm simply besotted of my sweet, curious, playful little goats, and I can't get enough information about them at the moment. It is my unfortunate experience, however, that most critter-related reading is either the cold and clinical kind or - worse yet - the I wub my putty-tat!!! variety. Egads, NO. No Chicken Soup for the Goatherd's Soul, for me, thank you.
Goat Song is actually quite poetically written, by a man who's relationship with his goats has become, by his own description, a quiet, symbiotic paradise of a sort. He describes the milking of his does as a time of quiet meditation for he and the doe alike. He further details the nitty-gritty, down and dirty details of animal keeping (sometimes in very graphic detail), interspersed with bits of the story of the history of the human/herd animal relationship through the millennia, with heavy meditations on what it means to be so life-and-death linked with another creature whom you sustain and in turn sustains you. It's good reading - educational, inspirational and so sweetly written.
In the end, it really just compels me to dive further and faster into this goat herding thing for the joy and satisfaction that there is to be found in it.
And his description of eating his hours-old chèvre rolled in homegrown herbs or honey is enough to get me chomping at the bit to get our Miss Gertie bred this fall.
Monday, October 25, 2010
The keys to a happy Me
I've been doing more than my fair share of whining lately, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate you all putting up with it. I've been working on getting myself sorted out, and have tried to focus on those things that make me get my bedraggled butt out of bed every morning. So here it is, the good stuff. In no particular order-
Homemade Wine
Experiencing Nature
Brown-eyed girls
This Guy :)
Goofy-Sweet Goats
Enough good food to feed my family
Flocks of fat chickens
Knitting nutty things for the people I love
Add to all that a Venti Caramel Macchiato, the middle of a warm cinnamon roll, and a good thunderstorm, and you've got one blissed-out chick on your hands. :)
Add to all that a Venti Caramel Macchiato, the middle of a warm cinnamon roll, and a good thunderstorm, and you've got one blissed-out chick on your hands. :)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The (partial) Reformation of a Layabout
I've had a little energy crisis of my own these past few months, in that I've had none. Laziness abounds with no end in site. But farm girls don't get breaks. There are critters to feed, leaves to rake, trees to prune, etc. I'm just having the devil of a time getting off of my comfy little spot on the couch where I've been holed up, watching Law & Order re-runs and knitting hats for everyone I know. And all the while, the chores, they call.
For one thing, my yard is teeming with weeds. Hawksbeard, English ivy, Scotch thistle, Scotch Broom, you name it. Why the weeds of the UK seem to find my lawn & pasture so attractive is a mystery to me, but here we are. I really should get on top of these puppies before they take over, but I haven't been getting it done. However, I've found a new way to trick myself into doing little bits of yard work.
Here's how it works - Whereas on a typical day, I would walk by a weed a hundred times thinking "Man, I should pull that." before actually pulling it, I now walk by a thistle or mat of ivy and think "Wow, the goats would so love to eat that", at which point I ACTUALLY PULL THE WEED and shove it in the num-nums basket to take down to my goats. The same is true for the bunnies and chickens. All have their favorite weedy snacks, and it has changed my perspective on weeds completely. Now I see those gnarly weeds as free critter food, which will eventually yield us "free" milk, eggs and fertilizer. Therefore the two minutes of my time spent pulling a weed today will net me even more free food/free time (less grocery shopping, fewer feed store runs) in the future, and therefore pays dividends in the form of time to nap and extended couch-sitting sprees. (Naps as currency - now there's an idea that needs exploring!) The chorus of excited MEHHHHHH!'s that I get the minute the goats see me coming their way with my basket o' weeds is just the gravy on top. ;)
For one thing, my yard is teeming with weeds. Hawksbeard, English ivy, Scotch thistle, Scotch Broom, you name it. Why the weeds of the UK seem to find my lawn & pasture so attractive is a mystery to me, but here we are. I really should get on top of these puppies before they take over, but I haven't been getting it done. However, I've found a new way to trick myself into doing little bits of yard work.
Here's how it works - Whereas on a typical day, I would walk by a weed a hundred times thinking "Man, I should pull that." before actually pulling it, I now walk by a thistle or mat of ivy and think "Wow, the goats would so love to eat that", at which point I ACTUALLY PULL THE WEED and shove it in the num-nums basket to take down to my goats. The same is true for the bunnies and chickens. All have their favorite weedy snacks, and it has changed my perspective on weeds completely. Now I see those gnarly weeds as free critter food, which will eventually yield us "free" milk, eggs and fertilizer. Therefore the two minutes of my time spent pulling a weed today will net me even more free food/free time (less grocery shopping, fewer feed store runs) in the future, and therefore pays dividends in the form of time to nap and extended couch-sitting sprees. (Naps as currency - now there's an idea that needs exploring!) The chorus of excited MEHHHHHH!'s that I get the minute the goats see me coming their way with my basket o' weeds is just the gravy on top. ;)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)