Wednesday, December 30, 2015

good for what ails you

It has been, in the way of all Decembers, a very hectic month. With a new job still taking all my extra time and energy, I did my best to ease up this year: no handmade gifts (except the traditional photo albums). No cookies baked. Minimal social engagements. An attitude determined, at all costs, not to get too bent out of shape over meaningless details. Stay calm. Focus on what is important. Breathe. Repeat.

We had one very big wrinkle, however, in the form of this unassuming pumpkin:

This pumpkin was one of the benefits of Secondo's fall job, working at a local pumpkin patch. On the last day, he took his pay in the form of pumpkins for everyone to carve, hence the Halloween pumpkin carving party, and this particularly large and spectacular specimen to grace our front stoop. It did a great job providing seasonally appropriate decor through October and November (pumpkins are still appropriate in November!) and into December (because, see above, not getting bent out of shape over details).

So it was still sitting there when Secondo came out of the house early in December, in a fury over being grounded, put on his rubber boots, and delivered a good, solid kick of rage to the pumpkin. He was hoping the pumpkin would explode in a spectacularly satisfying display of destruction. But the nights had been cold-ish, and the pumpkin was pretty much frozen, and instead the thing that gave way was his big toe.


In retrospect, perhaps I should have been a little more concerned with the decor.

Secondo was, of course, completely out of sorts at this news. Instead of getting his winter track season underway as planned, he was facing a very different month hobbling around in a walking cast. Not to mention the fact that he had effectively grounded himself for far longer, since he could not drive with his right foot in that cast.

My seasonal attitude came in handy that day. He loves to cook and bake, so we took it back to basics with the simple meditative exercise involved in making chicken soup together. Peel carrots. Chop onions. Simmer. Skim. Breathe. Repeat.

The Italian wedding soup we produced seemed to cure all evils, at least that night.

This picture is from mid-month, when Primo came home for a few hours to help us get our Christmas tree. (The walking cast is the least problem with that picture! The fact that the boys were in short sleeves, and in Terzo's case, shorts, is even more messed up.) The cast came off on Christmas Eve, in time for him not to clomp up and down the church aisles in his role as head acolyte, and he returned to running winter track this week with no apparent ill effect. It might even have been a blessing in disguise, forcing him to slow down for a month, to take a breather from all the stress and strain of being a high school junior with a lot on his plate.

Every so often, we all need that space to breathe, whether we make it for ourselves or have it handed to us by life's equivalent of a frozen pumpkin.

Saturday, December 5, 2015

chicken adventures

A post before the end of December! But our chicken had such a day today that it DEMANDED a blog post.

(Yes, chicken, in the singular. We are down to only one chicken as of September, or maybe it was October. She really doesn't seem to mind but we hope to find her a friend or two soon to help her keep her conserve body heat as the temps drop.)

I came out to find the chicken strutting around helping my husband move cattle panels. She doesn't have a name, because we have had chickens for so long at this point that no one gets names anymore; my husband calls her Chicken, so we will use that for purposes of this post. She usually stays in the coop for her own safety—way too many hawks and foxes around here—but she had enough supervision for today while we did a zillion farm winterizing chores. (To be perfectly accurate: my husband did a zillion chores. I helped with about 1/4 of them.) 

Dusty had been asked to keep a respectful distance, but he was somewhat distressed about Chicken not being where she was supposed to be.

She was having a high old time exploring.

We went into the barn to find a few supplies—I was going crazy trying to locate a reasonably sharp pair of hoof trimmers—and came out to find that Dusty had put Chicken back into her coop and was guarding the door to make sure that she didn't escape. He really saw no reason why she had to be out.

Dusty was called off and Chicken was allowed to continue her adventures following her favorite person in the world. Can you guess who feeds her every morning?

One of our most pressing chores was getting sheep hooves trimmed and coats changed before the weather turned. I never did find a dang pair of shears; I had to make a trip to Tractor Supply for that specific purpose.

I had plenty of help from Chicken while trimming up 36 hooves. For once, I remembered to wear a pair of gloves and save my hands from the inevitable blisters when I forget the gloves.

It's entirely possible that Chicken was solely interested in the grain left behind by the sheep when we were trying to catch them. Either way, she was a constant presence.

Kali had no idea what to make of Chicken being out of the coop.

Sheep chores were eventually done but the sheep pasture is a far way from the coop at the moment. Chicken showed no inclination to leave the sheep and head towards home, so she had to be forcibly carried from the back.

What a man. Feed bucket, halters, crook, and chicken. It's almost American Gothic in tone.

Although he didn't take her back to the coop! He is a sucker for this bird. He dropped her off in the garden, where Terzo was busy cleaning it out. Don't be too impressed, it was a paid job. But Chicken was happy to help for free.

Eventually she made her way back into her coop on her own accord, and we locked the door for the night. She ate her weight in bugs today and I'm sure she'll sleep well tonight, dreaming of all her travels and wanderings. For a cooped-up bird, it was quite a day.

Monday, November 30, 2015

no more rams, but hopefully lambs

Yikes, here I am again, up against the end of the month! Why yes, my new job keeps me much busier, why do you ask?

Our big news this month was that our beautiful Coopworth ram boys, bred and born on our farm, are off to greener pastures. Not in the euphemistic sense, but actual new pastures with fresh ewes to breed and all sort of adventures awaiting.

The first to go was Monmouth, who left mid-September. My husband was sorry to see him go as he was one of his favorite animals ever on the farm. But if a ram gets a new gig, you have to let him go. Not all rams are so lucky.

When we got the call that Monmouth had a new home (he went to a commercial farm with cross-bred ewes), we had to act quickly. Breed for next year before he left, or go another year without lambs? One of the favorite ewes in our flock, Secondo's Kali, was at a now-or-never point in her breeding career. We have never gotten a ewe lamb out of her, and we would love to have one. And she is getting older and heavier, so if we didn't breed her this year, she would probably never breed again.

So we went for it. And while we were breeding Kali, we decided in for a penny, in for a pound, and bred all the ewes while we had two willing rams.

Marking harnesses on the rams, coats on the ewes to protect their wool from the marking crayon, and off they went into their separate pastures. Kali, of course, was the last ewe marked, the morning that Monmouth left. We'll see if she takes.

Hard to say if the ewes were thrilled or not. (Just to be clear, we don't tie them up to be bred. We have them haltered and tied because we had to separate them into breeding groups for each ram, and make sure that they had proper fitting coats, trimmed hooves, etc. before we release them with the ram. Those annoyed looks have more to do with their feelings about being tied up on halter.)

Once Monmouth departed, that left Mercer, our stunningly gorgeous and well-mannered boy, one of the nicest animals ever produced on the farm, all by himself. Well, he was in with a couple of ewes, but he couldn't stay in with them all winter and definitely not once the lambs started arriving. Luckily for us and him, a good home presented itself before too long. He went to a new-ish Coopworth flock in Pennsylvania, to be buddies with Elwell the ram. His new owner reports that he is happy so far with the situation, though he hasn't been introduced to Elwell yet (Elwell is still busy with his own ewes).

Now we are down to ewes only, a situation we haven't had on the farm in several years but, from a flock management point of view, one of the easiest configurations to manage throughout the winter. Everyone can be together, and for the first time (since we had no ewe lambs this year), everyone can stay on the same nutritional plan while those lambs are hopefully growing. I was surprised by how much I missed the hurly-burly of lambing this spring. It may just put me under, but I can't wait until those lambs start making their appearances in early February—provided the rams were in with the ewes long enough!

Saturday, October 31, 2015


Better get a blog post up before I break my streak: since I started blogging in 2008, I never had a month when I didn't blog. In fact, I never had a month where I only had one blog post, but it's a little late for that streak now so I'll just try not to break the first one.

So much going on around here. Too much work, but at least Old Job is pretty much done and I can start focusing on New Job. The routine isn't in place just yet, but that's okay because things are so up in the air around here that maximum flexibility is the primary criterion for an employer at the moment, and I am blessed to have just that.

I spent most of one weekend seeing this guy with Secondo in tow, very interesting experience:

I have spent many weekends and afternoons and nights watching these sorts of activities:

Secondo was co-captain of the team as a junior and their top-scorer all season.

Yep, it's finally Terzo's turn to start running.

Primo is on the right; his roommate is on the left

Very little and very much fiber stuff going on. Nothing on the needles all fall, another unfortunate record. No new patterns (except for one finally getting finished, to be covered in a future post) but it is FALL, and fall means fiber festivals.

At Garden State Sheep Breeders, a most enjoyable weekend with my mom:

At Kings County Fiber Festival in Brooklyn about a month later; a very enjoyable Saturday with my mom:

And then the mother of all fiber festivals, Rhinebeck, a scant week after that, not with my mom but with a very enjoyable group of fellow Coopworth breeders:

In addition to all that, add birthdays (Secondo and Primo), driving tests (Secondo: he passed), Halloween parties and costumes (Terzo: he hauled in 13 pounds of candy), cross-country team mom duties (for Secondo's team, can't really say no when your kid is a captain which was probably the plan) and lots and lots of running (me, getting ready for a half marathon next weekend).

Girls are out on the front lawn now to catch the last of the grass before we have to start the hay. With the price of hay this year given the low rainfall summer we had, we would like to wait as long as possible!

Girls seem to be saying it is time to slow down and take a breath.

Just enough time to throw in a few seasonally appropriate and timely photos, because Chris said, at the rate I am going, she wouldn't be seeing them before Easter.

It's nice to beat expectations every once in a while. Terzo in his James Bond costume, and pumpkins carved by the boys tonight, along with assorted roommates and girlfriends. Happy Halloween!

Thursday, September 10, 2015

new beginnings

I know that the first rule of blogging is that you don't talk about how often you blog, but it is primary evidence of what is going on around here.

I have run out of gas.

My lifestyle, once so similar to that of the Energizer Bunny, has born a closer resemblance to the giant sloth over the summer. Very little was accomplished on a day to day basis. Yarn remained unknit. Projects remained undone. Blog posts remained unwritten. Hands lay idle in my lap, or at least that's how it felt. For months.

I somehow slipped out of the giant East Australian Current of creativity; instead, I was treading basic family survival most days. Yes, laundry was getting done (not necessarily folded) and meals were getting cooked (or at least warmed up), and everyone is pretty much in good shape and ready for a new year of school, but that's pretty much as far as it goes.

Which, as I keep telling myself over and over, is okay. Everyone, even the Energizer Bunny, gets to take a break from time to time. It's necessary. It's healthy. Stop beating myself up over it, already.

But shorter days bring thoughts of fall fiber festivals and knitting classes waiting to be taught, and I feel myself slowly getting back in gear.

Back to school doesn't hurt, either, to get me in the mode.

Sixth grade (sixth grade!)

Junior year (junior year!!) in high school

Move in day for the sports teams; his sophomore (!!!!) of college doesn't start until next Wednesday.

Even more importantly, I am making a switch in jobs, from something that has not been a good fit for a long time now, to something that seems a bit more promising. I gave my notice today and I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted. I spent the afternoon getting lots of wool ready for the NJ Sheep and Wool Festival this weekend and kept catching myself with a huge grin on my face. 

Here we go.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

a box of peeps

A couple of weeks ago, I wandered out to my husband's office (it is in the part of our house that used to be a garage) and found his office manager frantically making phone calls. 

"The chicks are in, and I can't find anyone to pick them up for me," she said. I immediately volunteered, because although I had heard about how baby chicks are delivered in the mail from hatcheries, I had never seen it. I grabbed the boys, and we headed to the post office.

We could hear them as soon as we walked in the door. No doubt as to which box belonged to Joan. The chicks are shipped when they are only one day old, because they still have the energy from the yolk to sustain them. (It lasts for up to three days.) The receiving post office calls the new owner as soon as the chicks come in, for immediate pick-up, for the benefit of the post office worker and the chicks.

Something about holding a box of loudly peeping chicks that makes you smile.

To get an idea of just how loud they are, the boys made this video in the car driving home:

Once you get them home, you have to put a shallow container of water in the box with them and dip each chick's beak into the water, to make sure they start drinking since they are close to three days post-hatch, and the yolk nutrition is running out. (She fed them as soon as she got them home; this first, critical operation took place in the office storage room.) Joan dipped each chick's beak several times, both to make sure they got some water in and to make sure she had gotten every chick, since there were two of each breed.

Don't ask me what breeds. I think the yellow ones are Buff Orpingtons but not sure about the others.

Dusty was very concerned about the strange sounds emanating from the storage room, a place he is not allowed to visit. All he knew for sure was that something odd was going on, and it probably wasn't allowed, and just what were those noises, anyhow?

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

mystery squash

Thanks to the great ditch-dig of 2014 (which was totally worth it; running water and electricity in the back of the farm revolutionized our winter chores), we were left with huge troughs all over the place. We have spent much of the spring and summer getting fill dirt and trying to even things out a bit around here.

A few days after we filled in the trench, Secondo was observed working away with great purpose in the middle of the yard. A 16-year-old working away with great purpose is noteworthy enough that it deserved further investigation, which revealed this structure:

He had found a different-appearing plant in the fill dirt, determined it was a squash of some sort, and set out to fashion a structure to protect the plant from marauding sheep and lawnmowers. 

He even remembered to water it on a somewhat-regular basis. Truly, when he puts his mind to it, his dedication knows no bounds. If only we could channel these tendencies...

The squash plant has thrived, as squash plants tend to do. Recently, blossoms and now these strange fruits have appeared on the plant. Any idea what they might be? Secondo says acorn but my money is on pattypan. 

The mystery of where this plant came from has still yet to be solved. We have never had a plant like this on our farm, and I am amazed that a volunteer survived the transfer from another place so successfully. I don't know why I continue to be amazed by Mother Nature. Her ability to astound knows no bounds.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

how does our garden grow?

How does our garden grow? Despite the late start, in the way of most things having to do with Mother Nature...

Surprisingly, shockingly, well. She is amazing, that Mother Nature.

Lots and lots of eggplant blossoms on the plants started by my father. Two baby eggplant are just visible in the bottom right of the photo. It's almost ratatouille time!

Provided the tomatoes can hustle along a bit. Plenty of green ones but not a lot of ripening going on. Maybe next week, with the rain we got today.

A little baby pumpkin! Secondo is quite excited. He grew this plant himself, from seed. It will (hopefully) turn orange in time.

Our best crop? Marigolds. They are crazy happy this year. We always plant them around the borders of our raised beds to discourage rabbits and other pests, though they haven't been much help with the deer, who have been feasting on the tops of the tomato plants. The marigolds are riotous with growth and blooms this year, maybe thanks to the fertilizer we put at the bottom of every hole to compensate for our late start.

Whatever the reason, they do a great job of distracting the eye from the weeds.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

blue moon fair

It has been that kind of week... Actually, make that weeks, with woes too many to mention, both large and small. Thankfully, 4-H fair wasn't one of them. Preperation was hell, but once we were settled in, things went off without a hitch.

Though the blue moon was fitting. Fair was tinged with quite a bit of melancholy as we were reminded over and over again, all weekend, that this was Primo's last fair. (The 4-H program extends into "year 13," i.e., the first year of college.) We have attended ten straight years of 4-H fair together, so this ending was more momentous than the end of high school because, as he put it, "I didn't attend high school for ten years!" Nor was high school so enmeshed in our entire family's calendar and operation that entire summers were built around its immutable, immovable presence smack in the middle of the season, with everything to be planned around it, as 4-H fair is.

We still managed to have the usual great time together. Lots of hard work as always but plenty of time for play. Campfires on Friday night under the full moon. Pie-eating contests under the shade trees.

For the first time, they went head to head in the pie-eating contest; the first place winner was glad to come out on top in pie eating, at least.

And there was the costume contest. Always the costume contest. Stuart and Kevyn (her real name) Minion took fourth place.

Hard to say if Terzo or I was most saddened about Primo's time in 4-H coming to an end. The future of the sheep show is uncertain, with few members left with sheep. Terzo's fair experience will likely look much different than Primo's. Which is fine, of course. He has been doing it for ten years, too, so a little change isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Primo may think it's his last year, but there is no way that the 4-H program is going to let him (and his good friend G.) off that easily. They are getting quite polished at their sheep-shearing show; Primo narrates and answers questions while G. shows off his considerable skills. They've already been invited back for next year.

Though it will all look a little different, for all of us.

Sunday, July 26, 2015

out and back

So behind that I don't know how I will catch up with all the happenings around here, but let's see if I can do it in five minutes or less...

Secondo and Terzo went to camp and had a great week, except Terzo being very, very blue about the fact that it was Secondo's last year. HIS LAST YEAR. I am blue, too.

After picking them up, we headed north for vacation, but since we had a little time to kill, stopped at a few colleges to give Secondo a few ideas. Middlebury was our favorite; too bad it doesn't have his major. But I plan to apply there.

Then onto points north and Montreal. Lots of architecture and art and churches and history.

Even a jaunt up to Quebec.

Our favorite day was the day we rented bikes and toured all over Montreal, across the St. Lawrence River to the Parc Jean Drapeau Island, down to the St. Lawrence rapids and up the Lachine Canal.

We have just about recovered and now it's time to turn ourselves around and head back out for fair this weekend. Better stock up on sleep now.