Juneuary, you are a Heartless Beyotch

{I'm back, and bitching about the weather again, which is to say; I'm back. :) MJ }

I can see by the first line of my last post here, that once again, my run-away optimism overtook my common sense.

It's true, April had a few days or a week of lovely weather. So did May, (at least the part where I was in Washington and conscious did), which seems to have triggered a foolish, premature Summer's Here! happy dance in many of us otherwise cynical guarded optimists.

Well, it's June, and Summer is not here.

I just got back from Phoenix - PHOENIX! Even on a 106 degree day, this little Washington state lassie was loving the sun and heat. That's how deprived of non-rain weather I was. Then I, (long story short) go for a drive and wake up back in Washington where it is soggier than when I left. Now begins the Fall? Summer of my discontent.

On the one hand, it isn't too late to put in my garden, as I had wondered if my Mid-May and late June planned vacations would make it. On the other hand, I'd be out of my damn mind to try and plant anything out in the schizophrenic early-Springish weather that we're having here. My 'maters and beans need to go out, yet I dread putting them in the ground only to watch them be battered by pounding rain or devoured by our bumper crop of slugs. OY. My friend Lisa calls this tease of a month "Juneuary". Nail. On. The. Head. :(

To whom it may concern, RE: the weather-

Knock it the &%$# off already.

Your humble, cold, temporarily follicularly-challenged (and therefore; COLD), friend-

Michelle

We have a farrrmerrr doon... again. :(

You have to give me credit for always finding weird new ways to put myself out of commission. Early-onset arthritis, a raging case of Campylobacter... I like to mix it up. This time it was a car accident, a doozy of a car accident.

It was during the last third of our great western road trip. We'd driven to Phoenix, Arizona via Oregon, Idaho and Utah, and had taken the road northwest, homeward bound via California, when everything went all el poo.

Somewhere outside of 29 Palms, beyond Joshua Tree National Park is where it happened.

I have no memory at all of the crash, and only a few horrifying flashbacks of the subsequent rescue.

According to the story cobbled together by my girls (who were THANK GOD, unharmed) and the police on the scene, I may or may not have had a student driver in front of me who swerved, causing me to swerve in response. None of the stories match up exactly, so it's hard to say. What happened next is the larger part of the mess. My car went off the road at some point and rolled for quite a distance, eventually coming to rest mostly on the driver's side. I was out cold, unable to be woken by my kids slapping me across the face (thanks!) or by screaming in my ear. They crawled free and found a police officer already responding, which is a miracle, considering it was the middle of the dang Mojave desert.

I was eventually extracted via the jaws of life and flown to the nearest hospital able to handle my injuries, in Loma Linda.

The next 4 days are reduced to tiny snippets.

Clawing at my neck brace in confusion, having my head very painfully stapled closed, crying, good & bad nurses, my husband.

Suffice it to say that I am at home now, and on the mend, but two weeks-plus on, still broken. My arm and thumb are broken, my brain bled some, the crown of my head was (gulp) "de-gloved", according to the guy who it set to fix it tomorrow, I had a pretty good concussion and whiplash, road rash, etc. I've been roughed up. And my haircut, if you can call it that is NOT SEXY. I need to make new line in my budget for wigs.

All that being said, I know how lucky I was. I know exactly how lucky I was to go through all of that and still have my babies, my life, my limbs and my personality. I am slow, typing with one hand, wobbling when I walk, forgetting a lot, having trouble getting words out there. But I'm still here. Under the drugs and the mumbled speech, I'm still me. I have miles to go to heal things, but I'm going to get there. My husband, Bill, has been by my side since he got the call about the accident, doing a million little things for me, our girls, and this place to keep it all running.

This farmer is dooon, but not out.:)

Kick-starting a Cottage Kitchen

The Washington State Cottage Food Law is on its way! Soon, I might be able to sell my jam, jellies, baked goods and more to complete strangers at markets or from right here on the farm. :)

But my kitchen is wee, and the CF regulations require that you store your personal food/ingredients separately from your "commercial" foods, which would be a serious obstacle to having an approved kitchen. So I'm wondering - should I seriously consider expanding/renovating my little kitchen?

I could get a bid on the work and equipment, then launch a kickstarter fund drive and cross my fingers. The idea of making my homemade food for the masses makes me kinda giddy. I'd also like to start making some bath products (soap, lotion) with some of our goat milk. Those types of items wouldn't fall under the heading of a cottage food product, but an increased kitchen space and facilities would certainly afford me more space in which to produce my goaty toiletries too.

What say you? Should I give this a serious go? Would you contribute to my cottage kitchen project for a small gift and my eternal thanks? ;)

King Kong, Soon to be Kung Pao

Le Jerk

I know that roosters are agro and bossy by trade, but a giant roo who attacks children, unprovoked from behind? Not happening.

Does anyone have a spare Australorp rooster hanging around? The laydies are ready for their new Romeo.

My Swingin' Shepherd

Goatherd, technically, but you know what I mean.

Bill turns the does out to graze, then passes the time playing his ukulele. It's become such a routine that when the music stops, the gals stop their munching and come thundering back up toward the pen, knowing that it's time for their grain.

Having that kind of peaceful rhythm with your animals is an amazing experience. I feel blessed to be surrounded with so much sweetness every day.

Early Spring Planting in the Hollow

As much as I'd like to be putting some of my veggie starts in the ground this week (or even this month, for that matter) it is still much too wet here to work the ground for the new garden. So, I'm going to turn my focus to putting in a few trees and some ground cover.

I ordered a lovely assortment of heirloom fruit trees, the majority of which were unfortunately out of stock. So we probably won't be adding any new apple trees this year, dang it, but I did get my hands on a few cherry trees. Here's what I picked up today-

1 Black Tartarian Sweet Cherry
1 Montmorency Pie Cherry
2 Sugar Maples
2 Scarlet Oaks
1 Monkey Puzzle Tree
4 each of Kinnikinnick ("bear berry") and Wintergreen ground cover

The trees will be split between our orchard rows and our chicken yard, and the ground cover will all go in the chicken yard. We're trying to control the rate of erosion in the chicken yard by replacing some of the now-devoured grass with spreading ground covers that do well in clay soils. There aren't many of them. The fact that these produce a fruit that we may or may not be able to get to before the chickens do is just a bonus. ;)

I found out after I bought just the one Monkey Puzzle tree that you actually need a male and a female in order for the tree to produce nuts. Did you know that Monkey Puzzle trees made food? The cones contain up to a few HUNDRED nuts each, which, when roasted, are supposed to be quite tasty.

Unfortunately, the trees have to be upwards of 30 years old before they can bear fruit, so I won't be reaping my nutty reward any time soon. Their unique look, and the fact that they can live to be 1000 years old sold me on them anyway. Maybe my 10 times great-grandkids will like Monkey Puzzle nuts? I'll plant some for them, just in case.

Blog Posts from the Edge

Day 7 of my captivity:

Hand, foot & mouth disease has invaded our once peaceable kingdom, and during a 9-day forced togetherness fest they call spring break, no less. We've yet to experience this elusive "Spring" phenomenon, and there most certainly hasn't been any sort of break. I'm confident that I'm rapidly approaching a mental break. Does that count?

Sick, bored, itchy children abound. Planned excursions to the out-of-doors have been scrapped due to inhospitable weather conditions and a highly communicable virus. We grow steadily more weary of one another's company with each passing hour.

Worse still, living conditions are deteriorating rapidly. The inmates children insist on being fed DAILY, pushing the very limits of my once generous sense of hospitality. Dishes are accumulating faster than they can be dealt with, and other routine tasks are being neglected as well. An increasing amount of my time is being consumed re-directing children to find something to do and otherwise manually dislodging them from "my grill". Surely madness lies around the next corner?

I pray you, send reinforcements as soon as can be managed. Earplugs, chocolate, fortified liquor and calamine lotion by the gallon are our most immediate needs. Some sort of force field that separates the children from my person by at least 5 feet would be most welcome, but I am uncertain as to whether or not such technology yet exists. In lieu of that, perhaps a remote control mute button, or a spell that renders me temporarily deaf? Anything helps.

We have a minimum of 3 more days of incarceration togetherness before the large, yellow, multi-passenger transports return to whisk my charges away to their institutions of learning. May their journey be swift and unhindered, delivering not only my bedraggled younglings to their destination, but delivering me from a slow, soul-crushing episode of cabin fever as well.

Three more days, three more days, three more days.....