Pets

The picture above is our male dog, Link. He was 4 years old when we got him, and has been here for 4 years. Part collie, part husky, he has proved himself a loyal companion and a great country dog. It took time though. I overheard a co-worker saying that he was moving to California and he couldn't take his dog with him. He was going to put him in the pound. I offered to take him home without seeing him. Link grew up on a small city lot, in a not so nice part of the city. I pulled up to the home one afternoon, and when my co-worker brought him out my first thought was "He's going to get shot, he looks like a coyote." None the less, I took him home.

We discovered that Link didn't like men. He growled at my husband and would hide behind me. It took some time, and a lot of patience on my husband's part. But soon they became best friends. Link is a large dog, but insists that he is a lap dog. One of these days I will remember to get a picture of Link curled up on my husband's lap.

When Link first came out to live with us, we found that he enjoyed chasing cars. Not a thing that my neighbors liked. We tried different things to break him of the habit, but it took him chasing my husband on his motorcycle one day to finally do that, my husband {accidently} ran over him with the motorcycle. Link was fine, but lost his urge to chase us. He has also turned out to be a good watch dog and mole hunter. I have trenches in my fields from him digging them up.


Kittens, we have kittens. They tend not to last very long out here though. I sad part of country living. It took only the first batch of little ones for us to realize why farmers have so many. Something else eats them. It's hard when you find them after a brutal fight, it's better when they simply disappear. As you can see, they are great mousers. That makes us more than just a little happy. Every time I turn on my oven, I catch one of those field mice on fire, it stinks the house up, but there is little I can do to prevent it. Maybe when we build our new house, I can start the preventative measures quickly. Right now though, we must suffer through it.

I got into an argument with a city person that informed me that she used live traps, and then would drive out into the country to let them go. Please don't do that. What happens to a city mouse in the country? They look for a house to invade. There is nothing humane about doing this, nothing. If the mouse can't find a house {call me Dr. Suess} then it starves to death or is eaten. If it does luck out and find a house, it gets eaten by a dog or cat, set on fire by the housewife, or it's neck snapped in a trap. Please keep your mice, I don't want them.
Owe, yes this cat's name is Owe. My 4 year old named her when he was 2. She scratched him as a kitten. She has turned out to be the best mouser, moler, gopherer, birder, we have had. Not so happy about the birds, and she did kill our pet rabbit, but she does bring me a headless rodent several times a day. She might just clean out the rodent population here shortly.
Diogee, say it slowly, and it is not French. D...O...G... She was named thus to help my youngest boys learn to spell. She is still a puppy and rather useless so far. Though she has learned how to dig moles up. The goats loath her, especially our female goat Trina. Whenever she is in the pen, Trina butts her. And the poor puppy is sent running and yipping. But she has to learn I don't want what happened between Link and Smoky to happen again. We know that Diogee's mom was a small black Lab, but Daddy's pedigree is unknown. She hates the heat, makes things a little tough on us..
Our newest pup, Ya-Ya. Someone had dumped her, and I am a sucker. She is part pit bull, but we are not yet sure what else. She has a temper, but we will work with her on that. She has proven her worth though, as she likes to help me dig up weeds in the garden. And I could always use the help out there.

Wide open spaces.

It's one of the best things about living away from the city, the open space. I don't miss all the noise, and lights. I don't miss being able to see my neighbor walking through his house naked, or worry about the stranger walking along the sidewalk. Growing up in suburbia in the 80's allowed us to run around free, without little concern for safety. But that has changed. Funny, I was more worried bout the neighbors calling the police about us allowing our child to play outside, then I was about someone snatching him.

a storm

Out here, they can run around like I did as a child. They have the freedom that I had once enjoyed. The down side is not having friends, and having to rely on one another for companionship. My husband and I were rather selfish on that part. We didn't even consider something like that. But once they begin school, they do make friends, and even a few have been allowed by there parents to come all the way out here. My boys can camp out in the fields, and I only have to worry about what mischief they are up to and not other's.

drive way

We {in reality} are not that far from a town. Yet there is enough nothingness between, that people act like we are. 15 minutes to a grocery store isn't that bad. But everything closing up early can be a problem. I am not able to run to the corner store in the middle of the night with out having to drive 40 minutes to find one that is open.

a sunset while a storm brews

In the mornings, we sit out on our front deck with a mug of coffee, watching the mother fox teaching her little ones to pounce. At night, if we are very quiet, we watch the skunks saunter by, raccoons fighting each other to be the first up a tree, opossums hunting their small prey. It's an episode of national geographic presents out here. How many kids get to say that about their homes any more? Most kids don't even seem to notice or care about it. Though I will say that once they've come out here and are allowed to gather eggs, help pick fresh vegetables, camp out with a bonfire and run through the fields naked, they can't wait to come back. {I have found more unknown boys underwear out here then I care to admit to} Something wonderful comes over these kids out here. Their parents stare at me, with their jaws dropped to their knees when I tell them how their city boy volunteered to weed the garden or clean out a coop.

my backyard

They get to play like savages, or cowboys. They get to play it for real. It's a sight to watch as the withdrawn, video game junkie transforms into a child that doesn't want to step foot back into the house. Why would he? There is so much out there to get into. They beg their parents to stay one more night.

Another thing I find fascinating about the openness, is watching storms. It's different here then in town. We can actually see the rain slowly make its way down the road, it doesn't just show up over head. We can see for miles, and every spring we get to watch tornadoes form miles away. The air looks and smells different. You can feel the energy of the storm just a bit better. And then there is the stars. Stars like you would not believe if you have never seen it before. No lights to turn the sky an ugly, harsh orange. We lay out on the trampoline and name constellations, make up new ones while listening to coyotes celebrate a kill. There is nothing else quite like spending a night outside in the country.

zucchini bread

I managed to grow some Zucchini plants, two to be exact. I don't think I like zucchini, to be honest I don't know why I have actually never tried it. Besides the occasional zucchini bread that seems to show up on my door step every Christmas. There is something about it that is slightly off putting. But why on Earth did I decided to grow it? I had to have something grow in the clay soil in my garden.

The first time I attempted to taste zucchini bread was many summers ago. The fact that I am 28 gives you a good clue that I was rather young when I had it. It was disgustingly bitter. It left this taste in your mouth, that by simply recalling that loaf brings it back. I decided on that day that zucchini was yucky and didn't even come near the gourd until a few winters ago.

I was at a friends home, one not known for her culinary skills, and was invited there primarily to cook a grand dinner for her and her friends. It was a Christmas party were she had made all of us slackers dress up, and pretend we were actually civil. The nerve! No combat boots, riding boots, Chucks allowed. We had to have some color on us, couldn't dress in all black nor wear any flannel. She had even suggested that some of us brush our hair! That was enough to have more than just a few of us hesitate on attending. I digress, she went as far as baking some cookies and breads and had them spread out on a small table. I tasted a few things, here and there, but there was this one slice of bread that drew me back. It was delicious, surprisingly so since she was the one to bake it. When she told me what it was, that taste from the first time I had ever tried zucchini bread came flooding back, and I gaged. I forced myself to take another piece, and decided that it all depended on the cook.

It still took me years to do it myself. How could I? I had been traumatized. I am still not sure what I was thinking as I was selecting my seeds for this years crop. I'm sorry, I do know. I have a very clayed area in the garden, rather large, and I needed something to grow there. I also was thinking about winter storage. But the one thing I did not think of was what I was going to do with them once they came in.


These are the first two of the season. I simply glanced at them as they laid out on the counter, I could feel them mocking me. {Paranoid much?} I had decided on making stir-fries and freezing them, but the other vegetables for that had yet to come in. What other choice did I have but turn them into bread? At that thought I dropped to the floor and convulsed. {that would be me being dramatic again, but you can get the point that I did not want to do this. } I broke out one of my many recipe books, looking for a recipe that didn't seem to be to repulsive.

I have a tendency of only follow a recipe the first time. After that, it is a free for all, and I fix whatever problems I deemed to have occurred. Luckily for me, my father was visiting {the man that taught me everything I know on the subject of cooking} and before I made the recipe I had found, he had few suggestions on improving it. I wrote the suggestions down next to the original recipe. {My cookbooks tend to look like college texts at the end of term} I have decided to share it with you.

Zucchini nut muffins;

1 medium zucchini
2 eggs
½ cup vegetable oil
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 sp molasses
½ cup packed brown sugar
3/4 cup white sugar
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 ½ tsp cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp cloves
½ tsp salt
½ tsp each of baking soda and powder
1 cup chopped walnuts



Peel off any bad spots, but leave the rest of the skin on the zucchini, shred and measure out 2 cups. Spread out on paper towel to drain. Or in my case coffee filters. I buy the 3 billion pack for $1.00US, and as I don't use paper towels, I use the coffee filters, as you can see in the picture above.


Beat together the eggs. (I use goose eggs in all my baking. One goose egg is equivalent to 2 chicken's eggs. the picture above is to demonstrate the size difference. The brown egg is a large, from one of my layers. If you are using goose eggs in anything, make sure you beat them well before adding anything else to them. They are a lot thicker than chicken eggs.} Beat into the eggs, oil, vanilla, sugar and molasses until light. In separate bowl mix together the flour cinnamon, nutmeg {Where is my cinnamon and nutmeg? Why can I not find them? I just bought some, and I know they were in my cabinet. I fall to my knees screaming at the ceiling "THE CHILDREN!" Someone had made off with my spices, so I had to make the first batch without them. Remember to double check that you have all the ingredients before baking anything. I added more cloves then called for, it didn't turn out too bad, but the cinnamon and nutmeg help a lot} cloves, salt, baking soda and baking powder. Blend the zucchini into the egg mix switching with the flour. Do not over mix it. Fold in the nuts, and then spoon into the muffin pans


Bake them at 375f for 20 minutes {check them after 15}

They turned out well. I was surprised that I didn't have to choke them down. One zucchini recipe down. Maybe now I can enjoy the gourd.

BLOGATHON 2006
A quick reminder. I will be blogging for 24 hours starting on July 29th. I am raising money for Farm Aid. Please think about sponsoring me. Donate as much or as little as you can, everything helps. After the 29th you will donate the money directly to Farm Aid, none of it will go past me. The Blogathon is the perfect time to as any questions, share your own stories with me, or just hang out and cheer me on.

Your donation in greatly appreciated!

Pressure canning; Green beans

Warning farmer Phelan, warning! Oh maybe it was Doom on you, doom on you! That's what it felt like as I set forth yesterday morning to pressure can for the first time. The hot water bath method is very simple, but this. . . this was something I had heard horror stories about. Women getting there eyes gouged out, their faces shredded by shards of exploding glass. ok, that's me being dramatic, I have never heard, nor known anyone that has been seriously injured by canning, although between the older women in my life and these homesteading books, I get a distinct impression of potential danger.

There were a few things that the books didn't cover, and when I asked other's in the know, they informed me that it was something that you figured out on your own. How great is that? That would go back to my theory, that living the simple life can cause boredom, and one must amuse themselves by giving faulty or incomplete advice to newbies, just so you can get a laugh at their expense. I hope you got a good laugh ladies, I really do.

It wasn't all that bad. But I am sure my frantic phone calls and making them listen to the pressure cooker over the phone got a chuckle or two. Now let us begin.

The hardest part of the project was washing, sorting and cutting the ten pounds of greens beans I had acquired. {More accurately, grown} I spent a total of 4 hours doing this, it could have gone quicker if my children hadn't been so enthusiastic about helping, and if my husband would have been as generous as to help

While I was staining my finger green, and causing premature arthritis, I set my largest pot on the stove. The water heated would help sterilize my jars, jar lids, screw tops and any utensils that would be involved. It seems to take a good four hours to get this much water to boil. Once I decided it was boiling {It never looks like it is, but the sound could have fooled me} I turned the flame off and put my cans and others into the water.

Next step was to blanch the green beans. Ok, so far so good. I can do this stuff. There are some books that say to blanch, while other's don't mention this step. I would suggest that it would be up to you. But I think I might just skip this step next time.

I placed five 1 quart jars into the sterilizing water. I wasn't clear on how many I would need. Turns out for the first batch, I only needed four 1 quart jars. I feared I would need more than that.

Once the beans were cooled, I packed them tightly into the jars, pouring the hot water I had blanched them in over the tops. Leaving about 1 inch head space. Here's where I become injured, ok it was merely a good owie as I scalded myself. Nothing that I haven't done before.
I placed the lids on, poured about 3 inches of water into the pressure canner and set the jars on the rack. It took me about five minutes to figure out how to fit the canners lid on. It wasn't willing to work with me, My dad made a suggestion, used some psycho babble and reasoned with the canner. Apparently she liked him more than I did, and the lid was twisted and locked on easily.
Hopefully you can see that round knob at the top of the lid. That is the weight gauge. I don't have one with a dial, that's too high tech {and expensive} for me. The weight gauge is placed {at 10 lbs} on the steam valve after steam has escaped for a good ten minutes. The you must sit there and stare at it, listening to the hissing and wondering what you are suppose to be listening for. How can you tell there is enough pressure in the canner? Silly girl, the weight gauge rattles in a rhythm. Why thank you, that explains it clearly.

What is this rhythm? No one can describe it, or so it seems. "You'll know it when you hear it." I am tempted to explain to these people that I can be rather slow, dense would be a good word for it. So I waited, and waited, and still it only hissed. But suddenly, something happened. The weight gauge jumped then rocked and rattled. This is it! I made a phone call, "Listen to this." I help the phone up so that the person on the other end could hear what the canner was doing. I was informed that this was indeed the sound I was waiting for. The sound, what? You want me to describe it? Oh, you'll know it when you hear it.

It reminds me of a steam engine trying to increase its speed. You've heard it in old movies. If not, find a Humphry Bogart film and wait for the scene where he has to leave his best gal at the train station, and you'll get the idea. {allow it to rock continuously for 25 minutes for quarts, 20 minutes for pints}

Here is some more confusion, for me at least. What happens when there is more pressure than you need? No one told me. What happens when there is not enough? The rhythm slows down. I started the timer for twenty-five minutes, when the rocking stopped. So I turned the heat up. I was wrong, the pressure was too high. Apparently the weight ceases to rock when the pressure exceeds what you have the weight gauge set to. Who knew? I assume people with common sense would know this, I figured it would have bounced faster. Luckily, none of the jars shattered.

I successfully canned 4 quarts of green beans. Now only four more await me today, and untold amounts await in the garden.

This book helped;

I am raising money for Farm Aid

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On July 29, hundreds of bloggers from around the world will put their endurance to the test for charity, blogging every 30 minutes for 24 hours straight. This is the Sixth Annual International Blogathon, an event that creates a worldwide community for a day, serves up fascinating content, and most importantly, raises tens of thousands of dollars for dozens of charities. Bloggers choose the charity and collect sponsorships. At the end of the event, those sponsors fulfill their pledges directly with the charity.

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Many things

Many things have kept me busy this last week. My father is visiting, my oldest son turned nine-years-old, and my garden has exploded. I have a bushel of green beans that need to be canned, zucchini that needs to be dealt with, cabbage and carrots that need to be turned into something and stored. That's what I will be doing today. This will be the first time that I have used a pressure cooker. Please keep your fingers crossed that I will not blow something up.





An update on the left behind eggs. I went out to the coop late one night to see if anyone was tending to them, they weren't. It's still in the mid 60'sf {15c} at night here. I tossed the eggs. We will have to look into an incubator.