The Daily Grind

Its been a while since I posted. In fact, its been, what, three or four years since I posted with any regularity.

Life gets in the way. It seems like things should be less complicated these days. I am no longer working. Our kids are all launched; Mary headed off to university this spring, and, although she's home for the summer, she's working. So that part of our life is in the past. (I can't say, "Over." It hurts too much.) I am back to the original role I had in this marriage; that of housewife. I manage the house, and the yard, but, other than that, my time is my own.

So it seems that I should be living what my mom called the "life of Reilly"; lazing around in a spotless home, enjoying bon bons and shopping.

But, no. I have lots to keep me busy. I took on extra animals this year; we have probably 100 various chickens and turkeys, 4 sheep, 4 goats, a horse, and 6 pigs. Oh, and 2 dogs, and 3 cats. This summer we sent Henry off to live with his boy, but I picked up a Border collie puppy. Molly is 3 months old now, and, little does she know, will be my sheep-moving companion at some future point.

So the feeding and cleaning are endless. Then there's the mowing. We had a tremendously wet spring, which meant the lawn was not an issue until sometime in late May. Not that it didn't need cutting; it did, desperately. Bt it just couldn't happen. I even tried staining the deck; couldn't get 4 dry days in a row from mid-April until the end of July!

The house needs care, too. Beyond the daily cleaning, groceries, and laundry, we haven't done anything to this house in 18 years. So, this spring, we decided to redecorate the. Whole. Thing. We're starting with the basement, and my May and June have been spent packing up all of our stuff and taking it to a storage locker. We're doing ceilings to floors, and I just didn't want stuff in the way. Sadly, no work has yet begun, although we're supposed to be unloading that storage locker Labor Day weekend! With all the animal and yard stuff, the packing has not been finished. Packing is further complicated by decluttering; I'm getting rid of things we no longer need/want.

And we still have family to care for and about. My dad likes to get together for meals 3 times a week. You'd think that would be easy; you gotta eat, right? But logistics are never simple, are they? Grandchildren come to visit, kids come back in and out from time to time. Keri's nieces have been visiting her from California this summer; time was spent with them.

In short, this "retired from parenting and working" life is NOT retiring, in the sense of less work and responsibility. The "life of Reilly" is probably unattainable. But its keeping me young and fit and out of trouble. I guess the world should be glad for that last bit!

A Day in the Life

You know, when you think about living on a farm--even a small farmette, like ours--it seems so...bucolic? Romantic? Idyllic? Let me tell you about my day.

So, I wake up around 6:30, have a cup of coffee, feed the dog. Mind you, at this point, I'm already half an hour "late." How can I be late, you ask, if its my home, my day, my routine? Because critters don't let you have a home, a day, a routine. It starts with feeding the little goats. I have a rule; I do not eat breakfast until everyone else has theirs. But NOBODY gets their breakfast until I have my coffee! So I drink the elixir of life, check email and Facebook, and then head to the kitchen to mix goat formula.

The little darlings are bleating to beat the band when I open the door. Porter, who has figured out how to drink out of a tub, (he never did catch on to drinking out of a bottle, but that's neither here nor there) jumps at his milk so enthusiastically that he spills a third of it on the ground. Lego and Teddy tuck into their bottles, sucking them down in about 2 minutes. (We're talking a pint each, here. That's FAST!) I give them a bit of grain, and head to the barn.

Gimpy wants OUT, and right NOW! He lives in our barn at night, but has free run of the place most days. If we leave for the day, he has to stay in his stall, which does not make him happy, but it does keep him off of the highway. Once I let him out, he takes off after Skye, who is afraid of his horns. A sheepdog afraid of a goat. --hangs head in shame-- That's OK; Skye's been bringing me a Jolly ball to kick for the last little while, and its really starting to annoy. (Yes, a Jolly ball is a horse toy, and our dog plays with it. That's OK. I bought it for the pigs, originally.)

I get some hay out for Wakiya, who meets me at the gate with a whicker and a whinny. She'll be staying in our dry lot until mid-May, when the pasture is ready for her. She doesn't like it, but she's a horse, and (mostly) has no choice. I have started putting her on pasture in the evening, for an hour or so, to get her used to grass. If she starts too fast, I'm told it can cause problems. I've never seen those problems, and I don't want to.

I head back to the barn, measure a bit of grain for the sheep, and deliver it to them. The chickens have been watching all of this with interest, but they don't get fed until evening.

Son #2, whose drywalling job has nothing for him today, shows up to do farm work. I set him to cutting brush and trees from the shoreline of our pond. It's been ignored for at least 5 years, so it's a mess, and we want to reclaim it this year.

I have decided to work in the garden until noontime, when my extended family gets together at a local restaurant for lunch. But...the phone rings. Farm and Fleet calling, with an urgent message that my new chicks are in, and I NEED TO COME GET THEM IMMEDIATELY. Almost two hours later, I arrive home with the new kids. F&F and I have different meanings for the word "immediately; theirs involves having me, the customer, wait around for my order, after telling me to HURRY UP AND COME GET IT! I'll get over it, someday.

I fuss with extension cords, trying to provide electricity to one of our chicken huts, so I can put the little chicks under a heat lamp for the first two weeks of their little lives. I can't get power to it; not with different cords, not with different plugs. Our cords being ancient, I even head out to buy a new extension cord, heat lamp, and bulb. No joy. A call to John reminds me that there are such things as breakers, and I may have blown one. Yep, I did. And now we learn that the same breaker that governs the power to the chicken house also governs power to my chest freezer. I want that changed! I fuss with this for so long that I miss the extended family lunch date.

After lunch, (which I do get to eat, just in my kitchen, instead of someone else's) son heads back to the pond, and I transplant some herbs into the garden. I am creating a redneck-themed garden area this year; that's another blog post on another day. But the herbs are set and doing well.

I stop, after planting, for a cup of coffee. I have to decide between cleaning the barn or cleaning the house. Decisions...Decisions...The house won. There wasn't enough time left in the day, so I'll do the barn tomorrow.

The house is clean...ish. Dinner looms. After cooking a lovely steak, I head out to feed animals. Bleating goats...skittish sheep...Gimpy gets grain, and knows it, so, until I do that, he's underfoot. Fetch Wakiya from her pasture time, put her back in the dry lot. Feed the chickens, and collect eggs. Head inside to do dishes.



So, where did I lose you? Were you tired after morning feeding, or was it later in the day? I lost myself somewhere between electricity and herbs. But, Scarlett, tomorrow is another day!

Where Did the Week Go?

Isn't it Sunday? I mean, my last post was on Saturday, and it can't be more than a day later, right?

Booger.

Seriously, the week had just flown by. There was cleaning done, and more cleaning. Goats were fed, and fed again. They had their "boy" operation, which meant a visit from our favorite vet. They've been having some...digestive issues, which is only to be expected, given their age, stress level, and the fact that they've increased their eating dramatically. But they'll get through.

The garden got rototilled this week. I've been letting the chickens out into it, so they can dig up any grubs and weeds. I'll think about planting next weekend. I have seed potatoes already, and I'll pick up some lettuces, spinach and carrot seeds, and herbs.

John stayed home today, and we spent the day preparing our pig pen for this year's residents. We expect 8. It'll be the most we've ever raised, and I'm a little nervous about it. I can hear those who raise dozens laughing at me...

I'm considering a momentous decision, which I'll talk about when its been made. Don't you just love vague statements like that?

I am so tired I can barely stay upright at my desk. Grandchildren are coming for a visit this weekend, and youngest son is moving into the house he and his fiancee will share come October, when they get married. Wow. I'd better get some rest.

A Night To Remember

No, not that one.

After writing an admittedly dull and commonplace entry last week, I was casting around for something a bit more interesting. How about a discussion of the little goats in the garage (yes, the garage) and their feeding habits? How about a forward look at plans for the vegetable garden?

Then Mother Nature threw a subject in front of me. Literally threw it.

Thursday, April 9 started out reasonably normally for northern Illinois. It was muggy. I told some friends on Facebook that, as I cleaned out a flowerbed, it felt like gardening on the seashore. I could even smell the ocean. It was in the mid-60s, having been only in the 40s the day before. Weird weather. A storm was predicted for the end of the day; it was shaping up to be a big one.

That evening, as John and I sat over the last bit of dinner, our phone alarms went off. That happens from time to time; usually warnings about heavy rain or snowfall, maybe a tornado watch. This was a warning, and it said, "Seek shelter now." Maybe you've seen this, which helps tell the difference.

In any case, that warning was unusual. So, being good, obedient folk, we...went out onto our deck. We wanted to see what was going on. It was dusk, and very dark from the storm rolling in, so it was difficult to see. But I suspected, from the amount of lightning, and the shape of the clouds, and the sound of continually rolling thunder, that the tornado which had been on the ground some 50 miles south of us was making its way thorough. John thought I was being silly; he thought it was just a really bad thunderstorm. Nevertheless, we spent some time in that basement that night. Power was out for about an hour, and water seeped into our basement. Our son and his wife, who have no basement, showed up at our door. We even let Mary's dog up onto the sofa; I had found her cowering in the far back of our basement, and wanted her to feel safe.

The storm passed, and we went to bed. High winds continued through the night, and it got pretty cold.
As is typical after a terrible storm, morning came clear, and fair.

In the morning, after chores, I walked around the yard a bit, looking for any damage. I found some. We lost a dead tree, and the tops of two others. A piece of the roof of our horse shed has disappeared, along with a large piece of the roof of the kids' old treehouse. I would share photos, but the cable from my camera has gone missing, and photos are trapped in my camera!
I headed into the house, and grabbed a cup of coffee. Looking out the back window, I saw a piece of debris I'd missed. Thinking it was just a piece of board, I headed out anyway, to pick it up. I found a memory.

This painting had a name on the back, and the note "1st period." I could tell it was a school project, and figured it blew in from somewhere. I was afraid it had blown in from someone's destroyed house. John, ever calm, said it was probably just garbage day somewhere, and it had blown out of the trash. I posted the picture on Facebook and my sister found a man with that name living in Rochelle, a small town about 35 miles from us, as the crow (or tornado) flies. (Although it would seem this tornado did not fly like a crow, moving back and forth in its path. But, I digress.)
Rochelle and a neighboring town, Fairdale, received the brunt of the storm. Two ladies were killed in Fairdale, which, essentially, doesn't exist anymore. Rochelle was also hit hard, although full reports on damage are not yet complete for either town. Its been a sobering end to the week.
I looked him up and found his place of business. I called and left a message. Minutes later, he texted me. With some deletions for privacy, this is how our conversation went.

I've been told I should contact news outlets about this, my little brush with fame. Its just as much fun to look at this little painting sitting in my dining room, and think about the trip it had. At least 35 miles, not including rotation, before it fell here. It has a bit of damage, and was waterlogged, but its in essentially one piece. I do think it would be fun to meet up with Matt for a coffee, give it back, and talk about the storm. I may find myself down that way, helping with cleanup, too. We shall see.
I do know that I'll be more respectful in the future of those warning notices on my phone. I'll head to the basement sooner, watch more carefully, and keep emergency supplies stocked downstairs. (We already did that, in case you wonder.)
I should ask him, too, if he's missing a special edition copy of Star Wars. It showed up about a mile north of us, in the yard of a friend of Mary's.

Just Another Day

It was a productive day, here on the farm. I managed an early coffee, got some laundry started, and fed the goats. Yes, I'm raising three buck kids. They will be the guests of honor at some feasts this summer, so I'm trying not to get too attached. Fortunately, they can be boogers, and make it easy to stay distant. Yes, that sounds cold. No apologies.

After feeding, I flipped the laundry and headed into the western treeline. We have ignored and neglected parts of our property over the years; this was one of the worst. Two trees even fell during storms maybe two summers ago, and we finally got around to cutting them up last month. There were still broken branches, twigs, bark, weeds, undergrowth, to be managed. We did some of that this weekend, and I finished the job today. 10 hours later, a lovely fire is still at the red-hot coal stage, and the treeline looks fabulous.

After showering off the burrs and woodsmoke (my favorite men's cologne, but not my favorite womens'!) I flipped the laundry, had some lunch and headed to that bastion of farmland; Farm and Fleet. I was looking for a windbreaker, and some kid replacer. "Kid replacer" is not what we use when we're tired of the ones we have; it is baby formula for goats. In our preparation for Easter Sunday, I had managed to ignore the replacer supply, and we ran out last night. We put together a suitable replacement (a replacement for replacer...wow) of the bit that was left, some cows' milk, and some goats' milk that we found at WalMart. Why not just use that, you say? They're eating 9 pints a day, and that stuff we bought last night was $4/quart. For the math challenged, that would be $18 PER DAY. Its important to get good nutrition into these little guys; but that's just too rich for my blood!

I took a nap, fed the goats, paid some bills, flipped the, well, you know. I talked to some folks about meat animals, including the family I'll be buying some lambs from next month. We'll have a cute little flock of lambs and goats for the summer. Then it was time to get dinner started. We had a sirloin from the steer we grew last year; yum! Dishes. John headed out to work the fire in the treeline. Now we're in and settling down for the night.

As I said, a productive day. Nothing that will make the nightly news, but I hope I did what was expected of me today. Night, all!

(Please leave comments below, and not on Facebook. I really appreciate each one.)

Busy, busy week and weekend, so no blogging has happened for a long, long time.

We've loaded pigs and taken them to the butcher. We then picked up their little white packages, and they are now "enjoying" freezer camp. There will a post about this in the not-so-distant-future.

We have a new grandchild! John Morgan Peterman V was born on November 7, and he's a cutie! I'll be headed to Michigan to visit him/them for about a week. There will be a post about this in the not-so-distant-future.

A good time was had with friends. Sadly, no pictures, so, no post. Just know there was wine and food involved.

A coyote grabbed up one of our chickens this morning. I heard the cackling, and he was gone before any of us could grab the gun. Mary and John headed out to the woods to look for him, but, no joy. It was a young hen, too.

Leaves have been raked and burned continually. I am hoping to finish that project today.

So I'd best get moving.

It's A Miracle!

We're having a loaves and fishes experience here. Or Ezekiel has stopped by.

We buy our laying chickens' feed from a local feed store. I took in a recipe for chicken feed, and he grinds it for me to order, when I need it. I have to buy 500 pounds at a time. So I plan carefully, watch my supply, and go visit Eddie at the feed store, as needed.

About three weeks ago, I noticed we were getting low. I called Eddie and ordered chicken feed. At the same time, we were low on pig feed. He also mixes this for me, so I ordered 500 pounds of that, too.

A couple of days later, before I could pick up the feed, I opened a can in my chicken house and found it full. This puzzled me, as I hadn't seen it full before. "Oh, well," I thought. "Middle-aged brain, I must have made a mistake." Because our feed cans were full, I called Eddie and told him I would pick up my chicken feed later, but that I still needed the pig feed.

A week after we picked up the pig feed, I went out to feed the chickens and found a bare minimum of feed in the can. That made sense; it had been about two weeks since I saw that full can. I distinctly remember carrying that can into the chicken house so that I could dump every last smackeral into the chicken feeder.

Yesterday, I picked up that 500 pounds of feed. I brought it home, and commenced my weight-lifting routine. One 50-pound bag to the chicken shed, dump it into a can, rinse and repeat. But, this time, I opened the empty can...and it was half full. What? That can, I am sure, was empty last week. I remember carrying it into the chicken house, right?

You don't suppose there's Someone Really Important visiting somewhere around here...

Saturday Farm Report

Some years ago, we decided to add some chicken housing. We built 4 huts from plywood and a pressed asphalt roofing called Ondura, and have used those to brood chicks and raise meat birds. The huts have survived much like you'd expect something built pretty cheaply and simply, but they're still functional. The roofs, however, had developed many leaks and were not serving their purpose anymore.

We decided to replace the Ondura with steel roofing. It turned out to be lighter in weight, which was a plus, since those roofs are hinged at the higher end, and we lift them to feed and water the birds. Does wonders for the muscles, but can be difficult, sometimes. The lighter-weight roofing material was also nicer looking, and should be longer-lasting.
But...You KNEW there had to be a "but," right?
The chickens, when things are working correctly, breathe. They breathe hot little puffs of moisture-laden breath into the hut. The metal roofs gets warm. The cool night air, especially in fall, condenses. The condensation

drips into the chickens' litter. The condensation, along with other liquids the chickens produce, made their fluffy, pine-shaving litter into a nasty-smelling, soupy mess. We went looking for some kind of insulation for the roof, and we found these.

4'x8' sheets of foil-backed foam board insulation. (I get no compensation from the manufacturer, even though I kindly included their logo and name in this photo. That's how I roll.) We had some other foam board, which was given to us, that would have been a smart way to go. Cheaper, or free, is smarter, right? But that foil backing, serving as a vapor barrier, clinched it for us. The project began.
There was measuring. There was marking. There was cutting. There was gluing. I condensed that process into this short little paragraph, because I realize this is getting, well, dull.
In the end, we had messy gloves

But the insulation was installed. (Here's a picture of one half of a roof done, so you can see, well, how it was done.)

And one finished roof.

So now, the chickens have soft, fluffy, better-smelling litter again.

Well, they DID. They yucked it up again, after only a couple of days. but, that's OK. They're leaving tomorrow, talking a trailer ride to Freezer Camp. Yes, I called it that.

Saturday Farm Report, a Day Late and Without Very Many Pictures

I was busy enough on Saturday, that the Farm Report is late.

We have 13 turkeys left of the 20 I bought in the spring. They want to be fewer; they keep escaping their pens. Mostly they roost on top of their huts, but, often, they go walkabout. Henry the corgi found one about two weeks ago, and ate half of it before I could intervene. Poor thing survived, although I had Mary put it out of its misery. They was no way survival would be long term. The little jerk. (Henry, not the turkey. Although he did ask for it.)

Turkeys and chickens go to the butcher on October 19. I have about 45 of the 50 chickens I started with. They're basically too lazy to go walkabout. In fact, they sit as close to the food trough as they can, not even bothering to peck/eat the pen they're allowed. Take that, pastured poultry people!

Renovations to the chicken huts are proceeding. New roofs were installed in the past two weeks. They've been a little disappointing. Metal, they seemed sturdier than the pressed felt/asphalt roofing that had, admittedly, lasted 5 years. They ARE sturdier, and lighter, BUT they chill. This means that the birds' heat and the cold night air conspire to condense on the inside of the hut, causing dripping. The bedding was saturated two days after the first installation. We're going to try some foam insulation today, hoping that will help. Fingers crossed. I am thinking that a roof vent would be a better idea, but we'll do the insulation first.

The steer remains mellow. That is a good thing. He also seems to be gaining again. He had lost some ground in September, when the grass finally gave way in the main pasture. Now that he's on his own, he gets to eat it ALL without sharing with Wakiya, and it shows. Beer, some grain, and a little alfalfa in the hay can't hurt, either.

Pigs are HUGE. They look nothing like the little weaners we brought here in May. In fact, they were so small, then, that I planned to take them to butcher in mid-November, rather than October, which is our usual month. Well, sure enough, I had to call and change that appointment. They'll be going for their trailer ride on October 26. We are going to have freezers FULL of pork!

Dogs are happy. Cats are content. Our ancient cat, Dinah, is being spoiled. Her teeth are finally giving out. Well, after all, she is pushing 18. Funny, considering that, when we got here, we were told that she would only last 2-3 years as an outside cat, and that we were setting her up for poor health/early death. But here I am, buying soft cat food for an ancient cat who has few teeth. Well, she's been a good protector of our grain supply these many years. Time to pay her back, I say!


Next up; a rehab of the chicken coop, some digging in and for the garden, and removal of a few trees. Stay tuned!

On Medical Advice

We are finishing a young steer. His previous owners named him Prince Charming, and he does have a high opinion of himself. He recently became such a bother to Mary's horse, Wakiya, that we separated them. This happened about 3 weeks ago, and is akin to weaning him again. He has been walking the fence line, where he can see her across the property, but not get to her, bawling and carrying on as if...well, I don't know what would be traumatic enough. Suffice it to say, it started as humorous, but became something else.

I worry. I worry about some things that are important, and some that are not. In this case, I was worried that Charming's inability to separate from Wakiya would translate into stress that would cause adrenaline to taint his meat. His date with destiny, aka, truck ride to freezer camp, aka, butchering date, is in mid-December. If he continued this until then, would he be tough and tasteless? (Betcha didn't know that could happen!) I talked to a few folks; friends, the butcher, and, then, the vet.

Our vet is terrific about being available for questions. We can call whenever we need information, and he is always cheerful and helpful about giving it. He has even started taking text questions. Sometimes we receive answers via text; this time, however, it was important enough to call me back.

"No," he said, "The meat won't be affected. But three weeks of this is excessive." And he suggested a medicine.

Yes, you do see there what you think you see there. NO, the medicine is not for us humans. The directions are, "Put some in his his feed. It'll mellow him out and quiet him down." (I feed grass and hay when we have a steer, until the last 2-3 months, when I add enough grain to make my grass-feeding-friends think I'm silly, and just enough that my grain-feeding-friends think its not enough to do anything. Yeah, I've only ever really grown one steer, but he tasted wonderful, and I hope this feeding plan will work again.)

So, into the bucket of grain...

Yep, that's my claw-like hand there. I wasn't sure of the amount necessary at that point, (the message with quantity came after the photo was taken) so I actually put 2 cans into the grain.

I took the bucket out to Charming. He was bellowing and calling for his feed, which was all of 15 minutes late at this point. (One thing I've noticed about ruminants is that, if their feed is even 10 minutes late, they believe they will never see feed again, and act accordingly.) I put the bucket on the ground, and he attacked it.

Until he tasted the beer.

He spat the feed back into the bucket. Yes, you read that correctly. An animal who, only minutes before, had come to the realization that he would NEVER EAT AGAIN, and spat the proferred food into the bucket.

--sigh-- Did we have a Baptist steer?

As you can see, he tucked into his hay pile, leaving the bucket untouched. I walked away, hoping that he would go back to the bucket. Did he?

About 20 minutes later, Farmer John arrived home from work. I asked him if he had seen the steer. "Yes," he said, "It's odd, though. He's lying down, eating his hay. I've never seen that before." I explained what had happened that afternoon, and we both got a good belly laugh over the story.

Yep, he's definitely mellower. And quieter. So we'll be following Dr. Bill's instructions; 1-2 cans per day, in his feed. If the Japanese can do, why not us Midwesterners?

Saturday Farm Report

Hey! Its been a while! I would blame that on life; my job has been keeping me busy, and its hard to blog through exhaustion. Also, my camera gave up the ghost, and its hard to blog without the pictures. It just is. So now that I have another, I am back in the saddle...at least today! Lets be glad for that, hope for the best, and see what happens in the future.

Today we're being hit with snow. There are those who are all moan and groan about that; I say its January in northern Illinois. You were expecting maybe heatstroke? Seriously, we have been having a winter, lets make that a WINTER, as has most of the country. Fortunately, we have a savior, in the form of a neighbor who has a Bobcat and loves to run it. He's over here at the drop of a flake. In fact, he just pulled in.

Its great having a neighbor like that!

What I like best about winter is HAVING to hunker down and stay inside sometimes. We've had 4 snow days so far, called because of extreme cold and wind chills. I spent a couple of those reading; I've finished Jo Baker's Longbourne, (I expected to love it, and I did) Leon Leyson's The Boy on the Wooden Box, (I expected to cry, and I did) Maeve Binchy's Tara Road (I expected it to have a post-modern, ambiguous-leaning-sad ending, and it did NOT) and Joyce Maynard's Labor Day (ditto Tara Road, add that I cried when I finished it.) I also worked out some fun lessons for my students, and am surprising them by changing up some teaching methods for the new year. And I spent a great deal of time cleaning and purging, donating an entire pickup load of stuff to local thrift stores. They got unused clothes, games, decor, c&^p, you know. The store room looks fabulous. Add to that the redecorating of the three bedrooms here, and this house is beginning to look like someone likes it, and in fact, might even love it someday!

All righty then, like when beginning an exercise routine, one mustn't push one's blogging muscles too far on the first try back. I hope to be back soon...If not, you'll know I'm thinking of you!

Saturday Farm Report

Another lovely Saturday. Really, although its predicted to be only in the high 60s today (a record is expected; lowest high ever!) and mostly cloudy, it means that we've had some good rain this week, and we'll have a break from the heat. In general, our weather has been good this summer. Warm enough to grow things, cool enough to be comfortable, wet enough so things are really, really green, dry enough to enjoy the outdoors. Yes, we have mosquitoes, and flies, but we have Cutters, so alls good!

We've been eating green beans, basil and tomatoes from the garden. Potatoes are almost ready to be dug, at least some small, new ones. Flowers look nice, horse is grazing well, and poultry is growing plump and sassy. Speaking of sassy, a Jersey heifer of that name should be gracing our pasture soon! I am a little reluctant to mention it until its a done deal, because I want it to happen, but it looks pretty likely that, within two weeks or so, we will once again own a cow. A cow, no less, who will calf in the next year. -squee!-

Today I will be painting. We're moving bedrooms around, and that involves changing of colors and fabrics. It's a girl thing; you might not understand! This time around, because of our age and family situation, it seems like it may be "permanent." I'm choosing colors wisely, because I think I'll have to live with them until we can sell this place.

But I'd best get at it. I leave you with a view from my kitchen window.

Rain!

You know that spring has sprung when the rains begin. You know the old rhyme; "April showers bring May flowers." But, these past two years or so, our spring rains have been sparse. Thunderstorms rolled in this morning, and now we're getting a good soaking. We had some rains over the weekend, too. We are cautiously optimistic that this drought we've been having is breaking.

Too late for my little shrubs, though. I bought three last summer that purported to bloom throughout the season. I bought them late, when they were on sale, planted them, and then the rains stopped. I mean STOPPED. We got no measurable moisture until some snow in January. I didn't expect them to survive, especially since, after the school year started, I was a horrible gardener and didn't water regularly. I will pay for it this spring, when I buy more of these shrubs at full price. (Which, at our local garden store, was higher than that price quoted on the link page!)

I also plan to plant some new trees this spring. Our tree-cutting work of a few weeks ago left us with the realization that we've cut far more than we've planted. I'm looking at blue spruce, white pine and sugar maples. And maybe a plum or two. I have seriously considered replacing ALL our apple trees with peach trees. Our little orchard is sadly neglected, with those apples getting very little pruning, and almost no spraying. It always seems that, when I have time to spray, it's predicted to rain the next day or so, so I hold off. Of course, with the drought I mentioned, I should probably spray; that would ensure rain! But I don't. And our apple harvest shows it. Granted, peach trees only make it 3-5 years here, but, if I replace an apple a year with a peach, we'll have a steady supply and less pruning/spraying. (No, I don't spray peaches, either. But the fruit harvested in much better than unsprayed apples) This is the peach variety I buy. It grows well in our yard, and the fruits are the large, running-down-your-arm-with-juice type that make the taste buds celebrate.

So I started talking about rain and ended up with juicy peaches. See the connection?

Easter Eggs

Laid for me today by my hens. Thank you, ladies.

Spring Break

This week is Spring Break. We've been relaxing on a warm Southern beach, enjoying some time off.

No. Strike that.

We've been working busily on and off our farm. Off the farm, we bought a "new" garden tractor and a "new" car. Both were desperately needed, and are welcome expenditures.

On the farm, we've been cutting 3 years' worth of dead and downed wood. Scheduling, illness, and just plain denial have kept us from this. But finally, finally, it is getting done. I'll share some photos with a smack upside my head. I should have taken a Before picture so you could see how wonderful our pasture looks right now in an After shot. The tree line is clear of dead things, low-hanging branches, which endanger critters and humans alike, are gone, and it almost looks like we care about this place.

But I didn't. So please just enjoy these shots of hard work being done. (The young man in the photos is a Boyfriend. Scary times.)

Saturday Farm Report, And So it Begins Edition

I covered the garden with a tarp today. And the compost pile. Just 30 more days, and I will be able to move compost to the garden and plant asparagus and lettuces.

Rain

So, three days after I tell you we need some good precipitation, we get it. Last night we started getting rain. It was a little scary. There was a roaring sound, and rain was hitting the window. Now, that had happened here about 10 years ago. At the time, I went to the window to see what was happening. I saw sheets of water. The next morning, we found that the trees on our north boundary line had been twisted off at the tops! A tornado or some twirling wind phenomenon had gone along the tops of the trees and broken them off. I was concerned that that was happening again, but no twisted trees this morning!

The rain has been pretty steady all day. Midway through my history class this afternoon, I stopped my lecture to look our the window. Rain, rain, rain. It is a mess, but a happy mess. The ground is thawing and there is more and more mud by the minute. It was almost 50 degrees today. True to form, it will be down to 35 or so tomorrow. Snow is expected. Such is life in northern Illinois.

I got a sad letter yesterday. The local bovine veterinarian is paring down his practice, letting go a second vet and a secretary who had been with him for years and years. He'll still be practicing, God willing, for many years. He's the only bovine vet around! (And, yes, I know we have no cows here, but his practice includes sheep, goats and pigs. The other large animal vets around here limit their practice to horses.) So I think I'll have to get a calf this spring, to raise for beef, and to keep him in business~!

Saturday Farm Report

We had snow this week. Not enough to cover the grass, but, snow. We really need a big ole storm. I know it wouldn't be popular, but it's looking like last year's drought is continuing. We really need some moisture.

Jay and the girls are here this weekend. Justice is off camping with the Royal Rangers. We'll be doing some shopping and some other "girl things" later today.

The farm looks awful this winter. Recent windstorms have added some fallen trees to the already raggedy look we've adopted. It's been too cold to deal with those, even if John was home to do so. We're really looking forward to spring break, when he'll take time off, too, and we'll work on the yard a bit.

The chickens still haven't recovered from the raccoon carnage. The 5 of them are laying about 5 eggs a week. It hasn't helped that our area has been in the icebox for the past 10 days, or that their feed seems to look a bit different than usual. All these factors are forcing us to -gasp- buy store eggs. We really don't like to do that.

But we've been seeing waterfowl flying north. That's a good sign.

Demon Seed

Something like this

got into our chicken coop last night. I found out about it when Jaeger, Matthew and Keri's dog, went out for his morning constitutional, and came running across the yard carrying one of our chickens in his mouth. He was so proud and happy! I let him have it! All of the dogs got a good tongue-lashing, and avoided me for a good 15 minutes or so. Happily, the bird he carried lived through her ordeal, and is recuperating in the breezeway right now.

When we went to survey the damage, which we thought was dog-induced, we realized the raccoons ripped a screen off of a window to get in. They killed 4 of our 9 birds, meaning that our supply of eggs is going to be drastically reduced for the foreseeable future. The chicken that lived is a lightweight bird. We think she was able to fly up and avoid the masked marauders, but was too slow for the dogs this morning. She was probably pecking unsuspecting on the ground when they came around the corner of the garden/chicken yard.

So, as sweet and cute as those little racconies look, keep this fact in mind; They are of the Devil.

Saturday Farm Report

Kinda strange to be doing one of these....it's been a while!

We're having a mild winter so far. I really wish we'd get some freezing temps and a good snow. We need the water, and I'd like the fleas, worms, ticks and germs to freeze to death! But we get what we get.

Today we're getting some snow. Big, fluffy flakes that aren't going to last long.

We've turned the corner, and the days are getting longer. I love this time of year, when things are dark and slow, but I love that there's more and more light daily. I've even begun thinking of planting things. The first seed catalogs arrived the day after Christmas, but I was too busy to tuck into them. Soon enough.

For now, though, soft, fluffy snow. Twilighty days. A rest before spring.