Changes

A week ago today, my husband and I dropped our firstborn off at college. He cried a little, I didn't. I figured that I would eventually cry, once it became real.

I still haven't cried.

Part of the reason that I haven't is because I know that she's ready for this. College has been one of the main focal points in our household for the past year and a half - researching, applying, PAPERWORK, orientation, supply shopping, dorm room shopping, last-minute helicopter-mom nagging (Have you refilled your prescriptions? Where's your inhaler?! Let's get you a flu shot!), et cetera, ad nauseum.

I also lived under the assumption that after the move was made, the household would settle into a new groove in the wake of the big shift. 

That hasn't happened yet either.

We theoretically have the household chores reshuffled and redistributed among we three remaining household members, although everyone is so exhausted by back-to-school, change of seasons, new job/activities and a gnarly chest cold bug, we haven't yet fallen into anything resembling a groove.

I'm sick, and I'm probably a little sad, and the longer this thing takes to hit me, the worse it's guaranteed to be. I'm worried. 

I'm also incredibly proud of how both of our kiddos are adapting. It hasn't been seamless, but our college girl is thriving in her new environment so far, and our high schooler is adjusting to being the lone chick in the nest pretty well. She is very active in her school's band, marching band, pep band, wind ensemble.... you get the idea. She keeps herself busy.

As for the hubs and I - we're trying to stay busy and upbeat. If we never stop moving, we can't very well crawl under the blankets and cry for days on end, can we? And so, we've both been working and volunteering our butts off to distract ourselves from the looming trough that inevitably follows the crest. Launch, successful. Life, altered. Mood, scrambled.

Mid-Winter Whine-o-rama

Every month/season/year I think: The end is right around the corner. Life is about to calm down and I can spend more time knitting/cooking/sleeping/hanging with my husband/kids/critters, etc.

That has yet to actually happen. EVER.

Getting our new business up and running has been a full time-plus undertaking for the past few months now. Meeting with suppliers-bankers-contractors, renovating our space, marketing, hiring employees and doing 90% of the physical labor on the building ourselves... it's kicking our butts a little.

Then we have life on the home front - kidding season, garden planning, fostering dogs, fending off raccoon and coyote attacks, attempting (and failing) to keep my house and yard presentable, seeing my kids for more that 5 minutes per day, etc. Le Fail.

I offer last Friday as an example:
*My oldest stayed home from school sick.
*My youngest came home early from school, sick.
*My big dogs escaped. Thrice. That meant that I had to keep them in the house for the day after escape #3. Guess how productive a gal can be when she's being stalked by two giant, cagey dogs and two needy daughters? Not very.
*Our septic tank filled up so completely that we couldn't run any two of the following at the same time: the shower, toilet, dishwasher, clothes washer. When water did successfully go down the drain, we were "rewarded" with a burp from the toilet. Magical.

So... how's Winter treating you?

Fall Done Fell

In the space of a week we've gone from humidity, thunderstorms and 80 degree temps to falling leaves and pea soup fog in the mornings. Fall has arrived in Boggy Hollow, and with it, as ever, a nearly-endless list of stuff that needs doing, yesterday.

As a bit of strategery, I am posting my to-do list here in the hope that the threat of an on-the-record public shaming will serve as motivation for me to get my crap together and not, say, take a nap with my puppy.

Hope springs eternal.

Chelle's end of Summer/Fall To-Do list:

*Finish harvesting the garden - tomatoes, tomatillos, basil, lemon balm, garlic chives, runner beans, pumpkins, cylindrical beets, sunflowers, chamomile, calendula, breadseed poppies, Fall raspberries

*Forage - apples, crab apples, pears, walnuts, hazelnuts, hawthorn berries, rose hips, dandelion roots, mushrooms?

*Can/Freeze/Dehydrate - Spaghetti sauce, tomato paste, tomatillo salsa, pumpkin puree, hard cider (apple, pear, hawthorn, etc.), wine (rose hip, hawthorn, raspberry), egg noodles (using beets, basil, etc.), pumpkin ravioli, chamomile, lemon balm and calendula for tea and soapmaking, dandelion roots (for bitters), pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, beet chips, beet greens, compound herb butters (basil, lemon balm, garlic chive), Scarlet Runner beans, 3 "surplus" roosters, 2 tom turkeys.

*Ferment - Cider (for ACV), wine, sauerkraut

*Make - At least 2 more batches of soap - one with goat milk and one vegan, re-batch soap trimmings, knit at least 2 dozen more dishcloths and 6 pair of bike helmet earmuffs

*Set up/Organize - The new pantry/storage room shelving - oy. This will probably involve a trip to IKEA, better known in our family as the Yuppie Modular Cattle Chute from Hell. Uff da.

As if that weren't enough, in addition to my regular Mom duties, a friend and I are in the process of starting a new business that entails real estate deals, meetings with bankers, tons of market research, paperwork and spreadsheets out the wazoo and a big, fat, healthy dose of sheer panic. Good times!

So, there you have it. My next 12 weeks, chock-full of farm housewifferey (did I just invent that word?), lava-hot mason jars and self-imposed stress and deadlines. Hold my feet to the fire to get this stuff done, guys and gals, because that nap is looking better with each passing minute.

Putting Up

Our predictably unpredictable end-of-Summer weather here in Western Washington is wigging me out.

One day it's 80's and deep-south humid, the next it's 60 degrees and straight downpour. It's Summer, it's Fall - no wait - it's still Summer. Hows about some hot rain to go with that 90% humidity? My brain has slipped into Fall mode - sleep in, bake bread, wear pjs all day, read, read, read. Meanwhile the copious sweating and 5 pound zucchinis snap me back to my reality - it's the end of Summer push.

I have already put up 50ish pounds of our squash, dozens of pounds of beets, assorted flavors/colors of homemade egg noodles and my puercos will soon be in the freezer as well; we're in no danger of starving. And yet, as tired as I am of picking and processing our produce incessantly, I can't stop. There is a MST of stuff still be done before I can laze about with a clear conscience.

This coming weekend is the 4th (5th?) annual Jam-o-Rama with my homegirl, Jen. Next weekend will be apple juicin' fest, and the week after that, probably tomato sauce and salsa time. I'm kinda tired just thinking about it...

Even if I don't make epic strides each day, as long as I can/dehydrate/freeze something, I feel like I'm making at least a little dent.

"Italian veg" going in the freezer - yellow squash, zucchini, scarlet runner beans and basil.

Rainy Days and Mondays... A Whiny Rant from Farmer Crankenpants

Today has not been my day.

I suffer from insomnia, so I'd only had about 4 hours of sleep before the tsunami of poo, also known as Monday, decided to slap me awake(ish).

The first thing was a phone call, bright and early, from an uncharacteristically chipper gal at the post office. I wouldn't have even picked up, tired as I was, but Scarlet was still home and so she answered, then handed me the phone while I was still 90% unconscious. "Good morning! Your chickens are here!" Awww... what the crap?! I had the chicks' arrival written down on my calender as being slated for Friday. The run that these little guys would be moving in to in the coop hadn't even been set up yet. Oy.

So I drag my buns out of bed. I make myself a ginormous iced coffee. I have about two swigs of it before I get a call from the garden supply company that is delivering the 25 cubic feet (yards? Whatever. A smallish mountain.) of soil that will be going into our new raised beds. The driver is running a touch late - is it ok if he comes in 30 minutes? I say sure, but I have to run to the post office super quick to pick up my box of chickens first. "Your what?" Having to explain interstate chicken delivery to a stranger who seems to have decided, rather hastily, that I'm half batshizz crazy... Just. Not. Helping.

After the call, I threw on some clothes and put a very sad Penny into her kennel, then ran to the post office to pick up my chicks. The only bright spot in my post office jaunt was getting to show a little kid my package o' peepers. The surprise and delight on his face when he saw and heard the chickies going bananas was awesome. It's one of the aspects of farming in the city that I straight-up live for. Watching a kid break into a smile when they see a baby goat go bouncing by, or just after they pull up and take a chomp out of their first bright purple carrot, dirt and all - it makes me so dang happy.

Alas, the happiness was fleeting.

About 30 seconds after I pull into the driveway, the dirt delivery guy shows up. I have a package of shivering, mildly-traumatized poultry that need dealing with, and now this fella who needs my input on where to heap my dirt. I gave him two potential choices - both were rejected. He wanted to dump the dirt a little further into the yard. You got it, chief. Go nuts! I leave him to it, and go to put my peepers in the coop.

I no sooner unpack my peepers than I notice that we have a jailbreak unfolding. The chicks are still small enough that they can get through the holes in the chicken wire, and have wandered into neighboring runs. Crap. I round up my freshly liberated chicks and ponder a plan B.

I slap a temporary home for them together in a galvanized water trough. I stash them in our back room, hopefully securing them by closing the the two doors that separate them from the range of Penny the Huntress, freelance chicken murderer.

Sweet. I have two seconds to sit down and chug my nearly-forgotten cup of coffee. Then I realize that I've nearly forgotten something else that is kinda critical - that I need to show the chicks how to drink their water. It's been so long since we've had baby chicks here that I didn't even remember that chickies don't come with that knowledge. I went to check on my peeps only to find that - yep - these guys and gals were going to need a little help in the drinking department.

Check out the rocket scientist STANDING in the water, just chillin'. 

I'm about to sit down and starting teaching these chicks, one by one, the dip/scoop/tilt-the-head-back drinking method when there is a knock at the door. It's the dirt delivery guy. His truck is stuck. Super.

I go outside to help him find some wood scraps and gravel to throw under his truck tires. In my haste, I fail to secure the front door completely. To Rex, that is an as good as an engraved invitation to take the heck off.  Out-muther-frackin'-standing! Cue the parade of helpful neighbors driving/biking/jogging by who stop to let me know that "Your dog is out!". You don't say! Is that why I have a leash in one hand, a chunk of ham for a bribe in the other, and a completely humorless/borderline apoplectic look on my face? Thanks so much!

To recap, I have - 

a) thirsty, travel-weary chicks who can't drink until I show them how,

b) a d-bag escape artist dog who thinks that my limping down the road after him - IN THE RAIN - is some sort of great sport, 

c) a tiny terror of a dog who is just waiting for her opportunity to devour the thirsty baby chickens the first time I space out and leave a door open,

d) a dump truck in my front yard that is digging some fabulous, giant holes with its slipping and spinning tires and still not going anywhere. 

e) zero point zero percent blood sugar/circulating caffeine in my system.

Can I dig a hole and crawl into it now? 

Finally, finally, the dirt-guy got his truck out, Rex wandered back up to the porch and eventually back into the house, the chickies seem to have settled in a little - drinking lessons are still forthcoming, Penny hasn't visited death upon anyone/anything yet today, and I've made a dent in my great, highly-tragic caffeine deficit. 

Still, I think this will be a PB&Js for dinner kinda night. And woe unto the child who dares complain - WOE UNTO THEM. 

Serenity now!

Ma Vie en Gris

I'm 99.9% convinced that Winter is trying to kill me.

In years past, I've hit the wall with Winter weather much later in the game than this, say February or March (or April or May), which usually has more to do with the color outside, or lack thereof, than the actual weather itself. I'm a Washingtonian born and raised, so three feet of rainfall in a season doesn't tend to make me turn a hair. However, the ceaseless grey chips away at my normally sunny demeanor after day 100 or so. I've bought therapy lights (not a very viable route for those of us with light-induced migraines, I'm afraid), taken fists full of B and D vitamins, upped my exercise, all to relatively little avail.

My theory on the death-by-grey phenomenon is in part owing to my being moderately synesthetic. Color is tied very closely to emotion in my addled brain, and even if it weren't, 100 days of blah would kick just about anybody in the butt. So, the grey literally plays hell with my emotional state. It sucks.

But this year it isn't the grey that's doing me in. We've actually had quite a few uncharacteristically beautiful, clear and sunny January days. It's worth noting that those days have been SO DAMN COLD AND DRY that I get a static electric zap every time I pet Rexy and that the freezing fog has been jamming every lock and latch on this place, but other than that, lovely. Those inconveniences are minor compared with what the dry cold does to my joints. My already crappy knees are so swollen and stiff this past week, that I've been sitting on my butt instead of taking care of my family and farm. Again, it sucks.

I never could wrap my mind around those old folks who would say that they could feel the weather in their bones, but let me tell you, now I'm all like Preach it, Granny! I can tell when the barometer is about to swing madly one way or the other, and I can tell with absolute certainty, even before I get out of bed or peek out a window, whether or not we've had an overnight freeze, all because of my rickety knees. What the heck is this crap?!? I'm thirty seven! :(

So, I'll probably be in a mood to varying degrees for, oh, the next 3 months or so. Sorry 'bout that. The painkillers, the heat packs, they help but they don't fix, and I'm kinda pissed about it. I have a lot that I'd like to be doing for my kids, my hub and my farm, but right now I'm lucky if I can slow-mo hustle my butt from the couch to the front door fast enough to let Penny-poo out in time to tinkle. We presently have a collective 50% success rate.

I'm going to try to channel my frustration over the things that I can't do into kicking ass at the things that I can. For starters, I'm a dag-gum knitting machine lately. Sure, my kids are eating leftover leftovers, but their heads, hands and necks are gonna look fly in their spankin' new knitwear. And I'm reading up on all things swine. That's right, people of Olympia, if you went to the library looking for a book on rearing pigs, you're out of luck, 'cuz I've got all four of them right here. I suspect that our library system may actually have more books on underwater basketweaving than they have on pigs, but I know that by the time we urban farm nerds are through, Backyard Poultry magazine will have the same circulation as Us Weekly up in this piece. ;)

So there it is - I'm a beyotch because the evil, rotten weather is making my broken parts more... brokended? But, I'm going to try to put on my best grin and bear it mug and make the best that I can of my crappy situation. In the mean time, if you have any organic pig-rearing books to recommend, or excess uber-soft yarn that needs knitting up, hook a sister up - I'm in the market. ;)

The Indignities of Transition

My hens are mostly finished molting, and, with a slight increase in daylight, and a little extra protein in their diet, have also slowly began laying again.

This one gal, however, has not yet completely recovered from the ravages of her first adult molt, and is reduced to a single, sad-looking tail feather.

Mama feels your pain, anonymous-Australorp-hen-that-only-my kids-could-identify-by-name. My molt was pretty intense too, and the grow-back phase is slow and awkward. We're in this together, girlfriend.

Filthy bathroom mirror and all. You're welcome. ;)

Surviving Winter Break: The Tween Edition

Trying to keep a pair of 9 and 12 year old girls productively occupied and not bickering during a two week break from school is a tall order. Here we are on day three and we're already starting to unravel a little...uhg.

So, here are some things that I have done, and others that I've tentatively planned, all in an effort to keep peace in our wee kingdom.

Baking - We made these frosted pumpkin cookies on the first day home together. They are delicious and not too fussy a recipe, which made baking these with the 9 year old actually enjoyable. Madness!

Crafting - We made suet (actually, lard) cakes for both the wild birds and our chickens.

Chicken scratch, oats, dried fruit, poppy seeds, peanut butter and lard, mixed together and pressed into hollowed out orange peels and set up in the fridge to firm up = birdie delights.

Threaded with a little biodegradable cotton yarn, and hung up high enough that the dog couldn't snatch it up and eat it himself (the lard smells very tasty), our little cakes are ready for the finches and chickadees to enjoy.  This one is hanging in our giant old apple tree.

Distraction - I bought a dvd of their new favorite "old" movie, The Goonies, that I'm holding back for a time when I can't take the I'm borrrrrred's any more. Now I just have to resist the urge to give it to them immediately, lest they burn themselves out on it too quickly.

Distraction #2 - Their Pop is lined up to take them to see The Hobbit this weekend, during which time I'll be at home luxuriating in 3 solid hours of silence. Have I ever been so happy to be raising nerdlings? I doubt it.

That's what we have on deck to get us through the first week. We're hoping for - nay - counting on their Christmas gifts to keep them sufficiently occupied for the second week. 

In the event that they fail (don't do me like that, Santa. You owe me, fat man!), I've got my Costco-sized bottle of Baileys and a pair of noise-cancelling headphones at the ready. ;)

Not Keeping Up with the Joneses

My last post was my best effort at focusing on the positive. I really do believe that positivity has the power to make my life and the lives of those around me better. But sometimes the Pollyanna Sunshine well runs dry, and I find myself irritable and somewhat behind the eight-ball in terms of my life's forward progression.

Well, I'm kinda there right now.

My girls are amazing, but this Summer vacation has been rather taxing on my relationship with them. We haven't been able to do a lot of our Summer norms, like cabin camping, fishing and going to the beach, because I was physically very weak and unable to drive for most of the Summer. That alone has thrown us all way off our game. On top of that, I'm struggling with a pretty heavy case of post-concussion syndrome, which has affected my memory and my ability to organize my thoughts. Add a highly emotional tweenager, a sensitive 9 year old girl, an emotionally needy, 75-pound pooch and a small working farm to the mix and you have the ultra hot mess that is me right now. Blurrrrg...

So I'm a little extra irritable, a little more raw than usual. I am looking forward to my girls' return to school with unparalleled joy. I just need a little quiet time to hear my own thoughts, you know? And as soon as that is done, or maybe while that is being done, I also need to make up for 3 months of not doing much. This house is a wreck.

Now, to be fair, my husband kicked butt while he was at the helm during my convalescence. He took care of the girls, the farm, the day-to-day odds and ends that are too numerous to name, and me and my very specialized needs, completely. Honest to God, I have no idea how he did it. He assumed the role of me, while also continuing to be him, and caregiver to a mostly disabled (albeit, temporarily, thankfully) adult. That is a tall effing order.

As a consequence of the hubster having a VERY full plate for 3 months, and my varying stages of disability/inability, a whole lot of stuff fell by the wayside, and neither of us had the energy to spare to give a crap about any of it. Laundry piled up, the vacuum sat idle, the weeds grew and grew, and we were just too busy trying to get by to pay it much mind.

To be perfectly honest, my house would probably not pass Martha Stewart's muster on it's finest day. Firstly, because I really do believe that an immaculate home is the sign of a wasted life. I have a million more worthwhile things to do than dust baseboards or flip mattresses. Secondly, because I don't believe that a sanitized home is a healthy home. We live on Boggy Hollow Farm, for crying out loud!  Mud, straw and a little bit of critter poo coming in on shoes and dog paws are just par for the course. Jars and crocks of homemade vinegar, pickles, sauerkraut and wine scattered here and there throughout our house offer proof that friendly bacteria and yeasts are welcome in this home.

We also are very into the up-cycling and re-purposing thang, which means that we hang on to useful objects, rather than throw them away, which can create a problem of its own - epic clutter.

But being able to logically rationalize having a non-sterile, occasionally-cluttered household doesn't negate my desperate, mental need for order and simplification. I wish that I didn't care at all that there is a mountain of laundry with my name on it, stains on the carpet (who in their right mind puts off-white carpet in a FARM HOUSE?!?), or over-filled junk drawers that hardly close, but I do, damn it, I do.

It isn't for the sake of keeping up with the modern ideal of what a "nice" home looks like - I forsook that pipe dream a looooong time ago - it's that I occasionally see my own environment with fresh eyes, as a visitor might see it, and am embarrassed and stressed out by my surroundings. I've said it before, physical clutter equals mental clutter in my head, and so I have a really hard time functioning in a chaotic environment. By the same token, it's also mentally and physically exhausting to even think about attempting to sort through four humans and forty(?) pets/animals worth of crap and deciding what stays and what goes. It's frugal/upcycling/we-might-need-that-again-someday! girl vs. emotionally-divorced crap-purger lady. Nobody wins. :(

So, I'm ok with a messier, less sterile, slightly more devil-may-care home environment than the average household seems to be, but I'm at a loss for how to reconcile that with the comfort that an organized and clean house brings to it's inhabitants. The promise of simplicity in urban homesteading is occasionally a bit of a tease - real food, real work, real experiences - all good things - at the "expense" of convenience, free time and rest. The more homesteading things that we make a part of our daily lives; home cheese making, brewing, garden-to-table cooking, animal husbandry, etc., the further away from convenience, free time and rest that we grow. I know that it's worth while. But - it is just exhausting. The whole "having a foot in two worlds" business - being a farmer and an urban mom - regularly kicks my ass.

We aren't keeping up with the Joneses. We aren't keeping up, period. We're getting by, sometimes, barely. I have a lot to think on about how to make our home/farm life mesh better with our city/social life, and the reasons why I need to impose some amount of order on this semi-chaotic life that I created.

Oy.

This is why I need thinky-quiet time. And wine. Lots and lots of wine.

Mope-fest #283

ARRRG, THE RAIN!

Well, I guess it's better than the snow that we've also had a few times this week, and that's as close to optimistic and chipper as you're probably going to get from me today. Nonstop rain, you are killing me softly.

This season of blah has lasted almost two seasons. I feel like it was September when I was last able to wear my beloved flip-flops. Giant yellow orb, why hast thou forsaken mine greater geographic area?!?

I grew up in this county, and am the 3rd generation in my family to do so. Soggy is in my DNA. But this, this weather has crossed a line.


Really? On my birthday?!? RUDE.

I'm attempting to deal with this gray and wet with humor, but seriously, this crap is breaking me down. Not only is it taxing my already heavily taxed sunny disposition, it has flared up both my allergies (molds & fungus plus some early pollen) and my arthritis with a vengeance. I can't taste, smell or for that matter, breathe through my nose right now, and I'm having trouble walking because my knee is so stiff, it keeps buckling and sending up stabbing pain at random intervals. I'm a chunky, wheezing, limpy mess with an increasingly poor attitude.



I need a tanning bed, a queen-sized Mai-Tai and a personal chocolate fountain to get me over this hump.

In the mean time, I'm going to go outside and throw rocks at the sky. Happy Thursday, everybody!

More Mamas on the Way

Through one of the most annoyingly persistent and bitterly cold Winters that we've had in a long time around here, my hard-working hubby finally finished fencing our back pasture. It was no small task! Being able to turn the goats out of their pens and into the larger pasture now means - less money spent on feed, the goaties get to frolic and exercise more than they did in their pens, and we're getting more goats!

As I've mentioned previously, my cousin is looking to get out of the goat raising business, and so is bringing her two favorite bred does to live with us for the foreseeable future. They are Alpines, which is a full sized breed, and are significantly bigger than the minis that we've cut our teeth on. This is the big leagues!

Alpines are French/Swiss in origin, and are one of the most popular dairy goats in the United States. They make great milk, and a LOT of it. They're also just great little critters all around, as I'm learning in my crash course on the Alpine breed. Dairy Goat Journal puts it nicely -

"Alpines are a versatile utility animal. Great milkers for both home and commercial dairies, Alpines produce a high volume of milk. They have the ability to produce over a period of one to three years between freshenings or milk through. This produces valuable year round milk and reduces cost by not breeding every year. Alpine milk has a high cheese yield because of good butterfat and protein content. They produce well on pasture or in dry-lotted hay fed conditions. They are known for being exceptionally hardy, curious, and friendly."

All good things! Our only concern is that they might be a little rough on our smaller goats, but we have the option of separating them if that is the case. No bullies allowed on this farm!

More goats, more babies, more milk = crazy exciting times in the Hollow. :)

Winter To-Do's by Month

January sort of blew by us this year, leaving us a bit behind on our farm chores checklist. February, short and sweet will hopefully bring us less madness in the weather department, a few baby goats and those first fearless leaders of Spring, crocuses. And March, well, March is always crazy, with 3 out of 4 of our family members celebrating birthdays, starting seeds, garden prep, etc. As always, I make a checklist of our must-do's then proceed to be completely freaked out by it! ;)

Our list of chores by month -

January -

*Storm Cleanup (a BIGGIE this year!) - assess, treat/trim trees as needed, clean up, sort wood/limbs into firewood, chipper fodder and goat snack piles. Set some big limbs aside for an epic mid-summer bonfire. :)

*Cut & Stack firewood

*Garden Planning & Seed Orders -Check!

*Turn Compost

*Replenish Emergency kit supplies -In progress. Costco here I come. :\

*Replenish Animal first aid/med kit in anticipation of kidding -Check!

*Purge Freezer -Also in progress. One Layer at a time...

February -

*Goats due to kid (Chardonnay/Blue)

*Start early seedlings indoors with heat mats/grow lights (late in month)

*Trim Trees & Shrubs

*Fence Building/Repair

March-

*Goats due to kid (Cassie's Alpine doe & doeling)

*Start up milking again

*Plant out Brassicas & Lettuces, weather permitting

*Order & Plant new trees, weather permitting

*Forage - Stinging Nettles & Dandelion, maybe mushrooms if the weather is right

Our plans for the months following depend a great deal on how well we manage to get these tasks ticked off in a timely fashion. As you might have noticed, we're adding two Alpine does to our goat herd. They are the sweet babies of my cousin, Cassie, whom we will be looking after for the foreseeable future. Both Alpines have been bred to an Oberhasli buck, so we're going to be dealing with an entirely new, much larger breed than we have in years past. The big upside is that they give really great milk and lots of it, so we should have cheese, cajeta and maybe even soap aplenty this year!

Cabin Fever Diaries - Dispatch #2

Three days of fairly heavy snow were followed by a day and night of freezing rain. This is very bad news in the land of trees. :(

The snow that has accumulated on trees, power lines, etc., melts just enough to refreeze again as a clinging, solid crust on whatever it is adhered to. It doesn't take long for the weight to become more than the trees and wires can bear, and things start falling and collapsing.


One of two ornamental Japanese(?) willows that were thrashed by the weight of the cumulative snow & ice.

Last night while the power was out and the snow and ice were at the peak of their destructive potential, limbs and whole trees would snap all of a sudden with a crack like a rifle shot, followed by a thunderous rush of snow. Normally wispy evergreen branches and fronds came raining down on houses, cars and power lines. Each pop and crack woke me with a start, wondering if the house (surrounded on all sides by cedar, fir, maple and alder) would take a hit. Going from deep, exhausted sleep to fight-or-flight adrenalized panic a dozen times per night sucks.

Besides the fear of having timber fall on our heads while we slept, we fared just fine. Our wood stove is a beast, and we used it to warm ourselves, cook our food and melt snow for water when the well water ran out.


"White Out Soup" (aka - everything that needed to be cooked before it spoiled), the greatest coffee pot in the world, and tea water for Bill.

Our power is back - for now. And luxuries like flushing the toilet and being able to wash the dishes are back and will not soon be taken for granted, I assure you.

Snowed in, Day 3

Here in Western Washington, we're in the thick of what some folks are calling "Snowmageddon" (drama queens!) and our little farm is literally snowed in at the moment, thanks to a driveway that is on a negative grade, and a very diligent snow plow driver who has inadvertently capped our crazy driveway with a three foot wall of ice & snow.

Today is the fifth day that the kids have been home, and the third day of being snowbound. I'm hanging on to my wits by a thread and distracting myself with craft projects, chores and a whole lot of cooking and baking. So far so good, but with the threat of power outages looming, and the likelihood of the girls being home 24/7 until Monday at least, my joy of family togetherness is waning.

Oy.

Next Year

I say it pretty much every month, season, year - I'm almost there. The crazy is about to let up and carefree, easy-livin' will reign in the land o' Jackson once again!

So either I'm a hopelessly optimistic simp, or have a heavy case of willful amnesia.

Another farmer chick and bloggy-buddy of mine were just talking about this idea - the mythical "next year" that is the perpetual, elusive finish line and jackpot payoff for this year's (and every one before) efforts, losses, lessons learned. Next year, the soil will finally be *spot on* and my veggies will be EPIC! Next year, we'll have all of our fencing fixed and up and caring for the goats will be practically effortless! Next year, I'll start knitting for my bazaars in the Spring and avoid the crunch!

Ah, "next year", you tease, you! The faster we run, the more we push, the further away you get.

When the frenzy of Spring - planting, planning, births, cleaning - finally gives way to Summer, it's foraging, fishing, fretting over babies, milking, canning that consume our days. Then Fall comes, promising some relief, and delivering some, in addition to harvesting, breeding goats, putting food up, crafting, weatherproofing and putting the farm to bed for the Winter.

Winter is maybe the biggest trickster of all. The season when a farmer/homesteader is supposed to take their ease from a year of laboring and scrambling to keep things running, is instead just as busy. Keeping housing (people and animal alike) warm and dry in a Western Washington winter is job in and of itself. Sump pumps, five-gallon buckets, muck boots and rigging up ratty old tarps are all in a day's work.

Winter is also the traditional time of year to butcher stock. We will be harvesting a rooster or two and goat this Winter, and next year will likely have a pig or two to do as well. The amount of prep and labor that goes into harvesting and butchering might surprise you. It surprised me the first time! Segregating the animal (sometimes the night before), sharpening your tools, boiling water, gathering all of the odds and ends that you'll need for catching and holding "stuff" as you move through the process. And that is just the basic setup.

Then there's the cutting, wrapping, putting up of your harvest after the fact. It makes for one (or several) very long days.

Winter tends to be the time of year that we try to tie up the loose ends on all of our other hobbies and projects - racking wine, bottling vinegar, non-stop knitting, waxing cheese, smoking fish, tying flies, mending and endless planning, plotting and dreaming about next year.

An Early Frost

This year, it seems that our Western Washington Autumn is as hell bent on fast-forwarding into Winter as our Summer was on skipping straight into Fall.

Now, I'm not one of those Los Angeles, eternal-Summer types, but I am feeling a bit shafted after less than a month of "Summer weather", and now, just 6 weeks into Fall, we're getting hard frosts.

It's not like I'm worried that the frost is going to kill my garden. Poorer than expected soil quality and minimal heat did that a long time ago. It's that, with the return of what I have come to think of as our 6-month long Winter, comes the return of the bog, inches of slicker-than-snot clay mud, and worry - heaps of it.

I was born a worrier, but seemingly incessant darkness, damp and cold compound it. I worry about my animals - are they warm enough, dry enough, safe enough, getting enough vitamins and calories? The long-lasting dark means that the nocturnal critters that'd have my chickens and goats for dinner have extended business hours, keeping us on our toes about getting everyone tucked in for the night, earlier and earlier with each passing day, for the next 6 weeks.

It is joyful and burdensome at the same time to be responsible not only for a life, but for also ensuring happiness and comfort beyond basic needs. Between Bill and I, we now have the keeping of 72 lives besides our own on our backs and minds at all times. And Winter and it's accompanying wet and dark magnify every challenge.

I'd better stock up on my coffee and vitamin D. This season feels like it'll be a long one.

On Deck for this Week -

*Turning some beautiful but mealy apples into "Apple Pie" schnapps :)

*Making more Pumpkin Raviolis

*Finally trying this Chevre Cheesecake recipe with a caramel-apple topping.

*Giving Tetanus booster shots to the goats

*Re-homing the Thunder-bird :(

*Vaccinating our "big birds" for Fowl Pox

So, a lot of cooking and a lot of critter jabbing. Oof. I'm tired already...

Waves of Usefulness

Our house guests have returned home now, and the house is quiet again, which is both nice and a little sad. Hanging with those crazy nephews of mine lets me be the nutty-fun auntie that chases and spoils the little maniacs until we all pass out. Good times!

But now that they're back home and I've mostly recovered from the cold and sinus infection that we all passed around, I finally find myself with a teensy bit of unscheduled time to knock out some more of our honey-do projects and even play outside a little. As my manic energy tends to do, my get-up-and-go has been coming in waves. I work my tail off on something on Sunday, then sleep and snarf down antihistamines and tylenol all day Monday. I don't seem to have a second gear.

Yesterday was my coma-nap day, therefore today is supposed to be a go out and kill it day. Meh.

I'm back to morning goat duty, after a generous hiatus afforded me by my darling husband, on account of my killer stomach bug and the time required for me to bounce crawl my way back to normal. Goat patrol, as we call it, really takes it out of me. Today I had to hike up the hill and back no less than four times (because of something that somebody did/didn't do who will be hearing about it tonight, I promise you.) These old bones can't go from zero to sixty like that! So now I'm taking my well-earned ease with a homemade frappuccino and pondering my next move. Put a few more plants in the garden? Take Spike for a walk on the leash to eat down some Scotch Broom? Take a nap in my lawn chair with a Diana Gabaldon book? Nah, No effing way and hells yes!

Today's wave was short but fast moving. I think I'm back to the trough. :)

P.S. - Look for my a Granola Giveaway coming up very soon, in honor of my 200th post!

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

Spring is here! YEESSSSS! Which means that this is the point at which I jump into action and start digging holes and planting seeds like Johnny Appleseed on crack, right? My spirit is on board, my body is trying.

If you've read either of my blogs much, you are probably well aware that a) I have a few annoying health issues and b) That I never hesitate to whine about them. Well this year has been harder than most, and I think that I've finally figured out why. I believe that I may be struggling with Fibromyalgia.

A friend was recently diagnosed, and I, basically completely ignorant of the condition, decided to learn more about it. The list of symptoms was like a point-by-point list of my complaints. Trouble sleeping; arthritis; generalized, for-no-good-reason muscle pains; etc. It's one of those moments where relief and worry slam together. But at least I have an idea about what this is and how I might make it better. Putting a name to the problem is a huge first step. I'm going to talk to my doctor about an official diagnosis and explore which therapies and meds might help me to regain control of my flagging body. But in the mean time, I'm trying like hell to push through. My husband, Bill, has been amazing. He works full time plus, then comes home to wrangle kids and critters, check homework and even cook dinner on those days where I'm really struggling.

I'm determined to get back out there and pull my own weight again though; so here's to a new season and turning a corner. I might move slower and swear under my breath (or right out loud) while doing it, but I'm gonna get out there and play in the dirt anyway.

Running on Empty

Is it Spring yet? Because I find myself doing lots of Springtime chores lately, yet I can't help but notice that I'm still needing to wear 5 layers of clothing while doing so. I'm always Winter-weary by late February, but it's March now. My sunshine is overdue! I'm ready for a 50 degree day. Is that really asking so much?

Since assuming the morning critter patrol duties solo, I've noticed that I hit my mid-afternoon lag a little bit harder than usual, which is saying something, since I am an Olympics-grade napper anyway. The exponential expansion of our animals has me running hither and yon morning, noon and night to water, feed, visit, clean and love on my critters. I enjoy the hell out of it, but my back is killing me and most nights I can barely stay awake long enough to get the kids in bed. So this is what a hard day's honest work feels like! But I am a delicate flower and this - how do you say? - manual labor is busting my chops. I foresee an awkward adjustment period...

I've got the skills (sort of) and the desire to whip this place into shape, I just need that last little piece of the puzzle - the oomph. Where art thou, oomph? You're not at the bottom of my fourth cup of coffee, I checked there.