Before I get to the blogs, I finished the Pumpkin Butter. It comes out dark because of the brown sugar, if you want it orange, use corn syrup instead. And I left out the blood in the recipe. I changed the recipe that I used a bit, and will probably change it some more as the fall progresses, as I am not completely happy with it. But that's my problem.
Off to visit new places!
Alla donde se cruzan los caminos; this is a newly created blog, not sure when it will be updated again. So why is it in my blogroll? Because I have always had respect for this person. I have seen her name creating nefarious fun on livejournal.
Bobbarama. com; this one is also a new site, from a friend I know from livejournal. He is a little neurotic, but that’s why I love him. Today he has interview comic strip creator Greg Evans. Stop by and say hi, just don't bring him any honey mustard or funnel cake.
Wind flower {I need to change the name on the blogroll, it has it listed as darkhairme} Jodie lives in China and just recently discovered the joys of blogging. She loves the variety of people here. Stop by her blog and tell her hi, she'll love it.
From Natures Cave, I found this blog via NeoWorx. This is a photo blog of small farm living in Australia. The photos are incredible. I really suggest you take a few minutes and scroll through her blog.
Those are my picks for today. Hope you have fun with them!. I have a guest blogger for tomorrow, so I will see everyone on Monday.
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Saturday, September 16, 2006
Friday, September 15, 2006
NAIS and You
This is my second post of the morning, if you want to laugh at me, scroll down. This post however is about NAIS and what it means to you. This is from the website NONAIS.org and it should help you understand more about what it will cost you as a tax payer and food consumer;
Your tax dollars at work:
In order to monitor and protect the health of animals that are used for human consumption, the federal government and leading agribusinesses in America have come together for a major joint effort. The National Animal Identification System (NAIS) will cost around half a billion dollars by 2009. The recurrent expenses include the cost of tags and system upgrades. These could be as high as $122 million each year.
-RFID Gazette
This does not include the cost to livestock owners which will be orders of magnitude higher than that. While tags cost only about $3 in large quantities, there is also the cost of applying them, failed tags, labor, computer systems, readers, applicator equipment, etc. The Australian NLIS experience has shown that while the promised cost was $3 per head the real cost is more like $37. Everything the government does gets delivered late, doesn’t work as expected and costs more than expected.
A typical small livestock owner such as a Micro-farmers, horse owner or homesteader will see a cost of $500 to $5,000 per year over and over every year. Read more >>>If you own a horse, even a pet rabbit, you will be required to register your home or apartment as a farm. You will have to tag you pet and report to the USDA every time your pet leaves your "farm". That includes trail rides and vet visits. Please take some time to look through the NoNAIS.org website and think about what this program will mean to you as a tax payer, as a pet owner, as a food consumer and as an American citizen. Part of the problem is that the Government is passing this off as a way to prevent agi-terrorism. But think about it, if you want to attack the nations food source, would you go after a small farmer that only sells to family and friends, or after the National herd? This issue is very important, to all of us, not just those of use that raise our own food and own pets.
This program does not prevent diseases, what it does is creates scape goats. The problems don’t come from the way farmers raise their livestock, the problems come from the slaughter houses and the way food is prepared. With this legislation, fast food chains will not be responsible for keeping your meat at room temp, causing food poisoning, nor will the slaughter house be held responsible for the unsanitary conditions that cause food borne illnesses, no it will go back to the rancher or farmer that sold his livestock at auction or directly to the slaughter houses. And that’s when the government will come in a kill, yes kill all the ranchers animals, healthy or not. No, there is no compensation. {fromwhat I understand}
The comany that will be suppling the USDA promotes chipping your children as well.
It's going to be a long day
I have never run across a recipe that called for raw pumpkin before. Usually they want you to bake it first so that the meat can be removed easily from the flesh. But not this one, this one wanted fresh raw pumpkin. I stared at the whole pumpkin for a minute trying to think how I should go about doing this. Cut it in half, scrape out the seeds and string, then cut out the meat. Simple. . . sure. I sliced open my thumb. I whimpered and cursed, though not as much as I did when the rooster bone pierced my finger, no sailors were made to blush. But I did discover something that I wish to share here.
PUMPKIN JUICE BURNS IN AN OPEN WOUND
Similar to pouring salt on it. I pleaded with myself to stop this torture. Forget the pumpkin, you don't have to preserve it. But I didn't listen to myself, I had to continue. Every few moments I had to run my thumb under cold water to relieve the throbbing burning, and Pokemon band-Aids did nothing to help me. The sticky Squirtel {Pokemon character if you didn't know} had to be removed, it was only hoarding little pieces of pumpkin meat up against the cut. After what felt like years, I finished slicing and pureeing the meat and spiced it, mixed it in a bowl and placed it {covered} on the table to set out, room temperature over night. This morning I will finish making the pumpkin butter. I must remember when I write up the recipe that you need to add a drop of blood into the mixture to enhance the flavor.
I also woke up this morning to find my cabinet above my stove ajar. I know I didn't leave it that way. Upon opening said door, I discovered two smash loaves of French bread and a third half eaten. Either I have some very large rats roaming around this house, or my cats got a sudden craving for day old bread.
Speaking of rats. We have field mice that invade our home in the winter. They like to take up residency in my oven. Last night, like so many nights last winter, I turned my oven on to bake some pizzas for dinner. And there was that smell. I caught a mouse on fire again! It was worse than it normally had been, or maybe it was the same and we just forgot how bad it was since the suicidal mice had been on hiatus these past few months. The house reeked of burning hair and flesh, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. Dinner was late due to the fact that no one wanted the burnt mouse smell/taste on their pizzas. I told them they were missing out on a delicious delicacy, that got me blank stares and vomiting noises from the balcony. The mice do however provide us with hours of entertainment during those long cold winter evenings. If you leave a dirty spoon on top of the stove, they will attempt to drag it down through the burners. The spoon is too large, so you hear the rhythmic clinking as they try ever so hard to make it fit. The cats and dogs do a decent job keeping most of the field mice out, but there is always one family that makes it in.
And what is this about being a long day, you ask. Because of the placement of my debilitating wound. The small knife cut {small but deep, me a wuss} is placed in just the right spot to make things miserable. I opened a bag of cereal this morning, and tore the cut open. Had to hide the blood or my son would not have ate his breakfast {no I didn't bleed on his food.} I went to take the laundry out of the dryer and bled on a towel. I think my standard rooster has blood lust, and he could smell it on me. As I went to feed the chickens this morning, I was attacked {gggrrr...rooster!} I still need to finish morning chores, clean coop, place litter down in the nursery { litter as in bedding, not kitty} preserve food {doing some jerky today...SALT!} and house work, not to mention playing with my children. I wonder how much blood I will lose doing all this. Of course my husband laughed at me when I was whimpering about pizza sauce in the cut. He showed me the burn he got yesterday while working on a motorcycle. "I didn't complain when this happened." That's because you're a boy, and the cooddies prevents you for acting normal. And then I stuck my tongue out at him, it made me feel better.
PUMPKIN JUICE BURNS IN AN OPEN WOUND
Similar to pouring salt on it. I pleaded with myself to stop this torture. Forget the pumpkin, you don't have to preserve it. But I didn't listen to myself, I had to continue. Every few moments I had to run my thumb under cold water to relieve the throbbing burning, and Pokemon band-Aids did nothing to help me. The sticky Squirtel {Pokemon character if you didn't know} had to be removed, it was only hoarding little pieces of pumpkin meat up against the cut. After what felt like years, I finished slicing and pureeing the meat and spiced it, mixed it in a bowl and placed it {covered} on the table to set out, room temperature over night. This morning I will finish making the pumpkin butter. I must remember when I write up the recipe that you need to add a drop of blood into the mixture to enhance the flavor.
I also woke up this morning to find my cabinet above my stove ajar. I know I didn't leave it that way. Upon opening said door, I discovered two smash loaves of French bread and a third half eaten. Either I have some very large rats roaming around this house, or my cats got a sudden craving for day old bread.
Speaking of rats. We have field mice that invade our home in the winter. They like to take up residency in my oven. Last night, like so many nights last winter, I turned my oven on to bake some pizzas for dinner. And there was that smell. I caught a mouse on fire again! It was worse than it normally had been, or maybe it was the same and we just forgot how bad it was since the suicidal mice had been on hiatus these past few months. The house reeked of burning hair and flesh, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. Dinner was late due to the fact that no one wanted the burnt mouse smell/taste on their pizzas. I told them they were missing out on a delicious delicacy, that got me blank stares and vomiting noises from the balcony. The mice do however provide us with hours of entertainment during those long cold winter evenings. If you leave a dirty spoon on top of the stove, they will attempt to drag it down through the burners. The spoon is too large, so you hear the rhythmic clinking as they try ever so hard to make it fit. The cats and dogs do a decent job keeping most of the field mice out, but there is always one family that makes it in.
And what is this about being a long day, you ask. Because of the placement of my debilitating wound. The small knife cut {small but deep, me a wuss} is placed in just the right spot to make things miserable. I opened a bag of cereal this morning, and tore the cut open. Had to hide the blood or my son would not have ate his breakfast {no I didn't bleed on his food.} I went to take the laundry out of the dryer and bled on a towel. I think my standard rooster has blood lust, and he could smell it on me. As I went to feed the chickens this morning, I was attacked {gggrrr...rooster!} I still need to finish morning chores, clean coop, place litter down in the nursery { litter as in bedding, not kitty} preserve food {doing some jerky today...SALT!} and house work, not to mention playing with my children. I wonder how much blood I will lose doing all this. Of course my husband laughed at me when I was whimpering about pizza sauce in the cut. He showed me the burn he got yesterday while working on a motorcycle. "I didn't complain when this happened." That's because you're a boy, and the cooddies prevents you for acting normal. And then I stuck my tongue out at him, it made me feel better.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Watch Out, it's a Homesteader on a Rampage!
In the State of Kansas one is not allowed to advertise raw goat milk for human consumption. But you can paint a handmade sign and place it outside of your home stating that you do indeed have raw goats milk. To be able to advertise it legally you have to get yourself a business license to sell goat milk soap. No, you can not advertise that you have raw goat milk for sale to make soap unless you {as the business owner} sells pre-made soap. So now I have two options, I drive around aimlessly for hours trying to locate one of those handmade signs, or I find people with milking goats and ask them if they know where I can buy raw goats milk. I really want to make my own cheese. But now that I think of it, the vet in a neighboring town mentioned that her primary clientele are sheep and goats that have been attacked by domestic dogs, maybe I should ask her. It could make my hunt so much more easier.
We are starting our preparations for building our green shelter. To go green adds 2% to your construction costs. That makes little sense to me when you are using recycled and natural materials. We have a good chunk of money to spend in the construction, I hope that it is enough, but on the chance it isn't, I have been roaming around the internet trying to find any programs that would help us go green. If I lived in Canada I would be able to get some help, here in the USA however, unless you make 80% below the medium, or are a non-profit organization that wants to turn rural America into multiple family house neighborhoods, there is not a single program out there. We are a working class family, below the medium of our state but not enough to be deemed helpable. We are in that category of people that make too much for any assistants, but not enough to do anything but survive paycheck to paycheck. We are unable to refinance or get a home equity loan because we are in a trailer. I really don't want to get a high interest loan to be able to finish our home. Anyone want to buy my novel?
I must confessed, I lied in my last entry. It is not fall here, we are still in swing season. Just that the swing is long and slow. Back to early summer highs for us today. Good, more time for my tomatoes, but the chicks, the chicks have to go into the nursery today.
I also have a lot of canning that must be done today. Speaking of food, we were going out apple and blackberry picking last weekend. The blackberry farm is no longer selling to the public, and the apples at my husband's grandmother's house are full of worms. We have, however, located an apple orchard an hour from here {that would be an hour of open road, 70 mph all the way} for twenty nine cents a pound. It's also close to a wheat farm where I can pick up sealed barrels of wheat at a decent price.
We are starting our preparations for building our green shelter. To go green adds 2% to your construction costs. That makes little sense to me when you are using recycled and natural materials. We have a good chunk of money to spend in the construction, I hope that it is enough, but on the chance it isn't, I have been roaming around the internet trying to find any programs that would help us go green. If I lived in Canada I would be able to get some help, here in the USA however, unless you make 80% below the medium, or are a non-profit organization that wants to turn rural America into multiple family house neighborhoods, there is not a single program out there. We are a working class family, below the medium of our state but not enough to be deemed helpable. We are in that category of people that make too much for any assistants, but not enough to do anything but survive paycheck to paycheck. We are unable to refinance or get a home equity loan because we are in a trailer. I really don't want to get a high interest loan to be able to finish our home. Anyone want to buy my novel?
I must confessed, I lied in my last entry. It is not fall here, we are still in swing season. Just that the swing is long and slow. Back to early summer highs for us today. Good, more time for my tomatoes, but the chicks, the chicks have to go into the nursery today.
I also have a lot of canning that must be done today. Speaking of food, we were going out apple and blackberry picking last weekend. The blackberry farm is no longer selling to the public, and the apples at my husband's grandmother's house are full of worms. We have, however, located an apple orchard an hour from here {that would be an hour of open road, 70 mph all the way} for twenty nine cents a pound. It's also close to a wheat farm where I can pick up sealed barrels of wheat at a decent price.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
A Mundane World
There are days I wake up thinking that I no longer want to do this. It has become repetitive. My previous job, or should I say life, had some sort of a different challenge daily. Now it seems the only challenges I face daily are emotional ones. Yet as soon as I become complacent, something sneaks into the mundane world and new challenges crop up and tangle your feet.
Fall is finally here in Kansas. I am a little worried about it as my garden hasn't done as well as it has in the past. Not enough tomatoes to make it through the winter. We are ok on green beans and jams, but everything else was late.
Here soon I will dig up my sweet potatoes and peanuts and see how well we did there. I am hoping for the best, but expecting the moderate.
The homestead must start preparations for winter. Birds need trimmed, coops need washing, rooster legs need to be salved {last year their spurs turned purple, and they got so dry the skin would crack and bleed} Goats need to be washed down and bugs removed. Our house needs to go into winter mode as well. And the garden has to be turned out. We also have to prepare the barn for stabling horses in the winter, just in case the land next to ours sells. And on top of all that I have to preserve fall harvest. {and for those that don't know, I am also working on a novella that has to be finished by October 30th and then I do NANOWRIMO} Just thinking about this feels me with dread and exhaustion. But it must be done, all of it.
I made nine ½ pint jars of Plum Jam yesterday. My father is moving from Florida, to live with us and he mentioned that he loved Italian Prune plums, but was unable to find them any more. I just happened to find them on sale here. We have saved the seeds and will be planting some outdoors {to see if the will make it} and some indoors to be placed in our future green house. Now my dad will never want for prune plums again. { the jam is a little soft, but that just means it's spreadable}
My children have discovered the wonders that is pumpkin butter. They finished off a full pint of it in 3 days. I don't think they ate anything else. The pumpkins that survived here will be turned into butter, but we do plan on going to The Pumpkin Patch and buying a wheelbarrow full {only $20 US} {Where to find a pick your own farm in your area} Here's my question for you today, what do you use your pumpkin for?
Fall is finally here in Kansas. I am a little worried about it as my garden hasn't done as well as it has in the past. Not enough tomatoes to make it through the winter. We are ok on green beans and jams, but everything else was late.
Here soon I will dig up my sweet potatoes and peanuts and see how well we did there. I am hoping for the best, but expecting the moderate.
The homestead must start preparations for winter. Birds need trimmed, coops need washing, rooster legs need to be salved {last year their spurs turned purple, and they got so dry the skin would crack and bleed} Goats need to be washed down and bugs removed. Our house needs to go into winter mode as well. And the garden has to be turned out. We also have to prepare the barn for stabling horses in the winter, just in case the land next to ours sells. And on top of all that I have to preserve fall harvest. {and for those that don't know, I am also working on a novella that has to be finished by October 30th and then I do NANOWRIMO} Just thinking about this feels me with dread and exhaustion. But it must be done, all of it.
I made nine ½ pint jars of Plum Jam yesterday. My father is moving from Florida, to live with us and he mentioned that he loved Italian Prune plums, but was unable to find them any more. I just happened to find them on sale here. We have saved the seeds and will be planting some outdoors {to see if the will make it} and some indoors to be placed in our future green house. Now my dad will never want for prune plums again. { the jam is a little soft, but that just means it's spreadable}
My children have discovered the wonders that is pumpkin butter. They finished off a full pint of it in 3 days. I don't think they ate anything else. The pumpkins that survived here will be turned into butter, but we do plan on going to The Pumpkin Patch and buying a wheelbarrow full {only $20 US} {Where to find a pick your own farm in your area} Here's my question for you today, what do you use your pumpkin for?
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Tuesday Already?
Saturday prime time entertainment
feels good feels good feels good
feels good feels good feels good
neighbor’s horse scratching her belly.My 2-year-old thought it was the funniest thing ever. This Mare and her painted pony will be stabled in our barn soon. The neighbors’ house and land is up for sale. He wants us to have the horses when he leaves. Don't know if I am looking forward to that or not. The boys are thrilled.
Turkey Snalurkey {have no idea why I call him that, just do} a.k.a. Thanksgiving dinner. He is the only one of 5 that we managed to raise. I wanted to keep him as a novelty, but as I consult all the homesteading books, they say it is too expensive just to keep one as a pet. If he was female I could have sold turkey eggs to the gourmet shops to pay for his feed. But he is a tom and the only benefit is his meat. So the day before thanksgiving we will dress him out. I have mixed feelings about it. We bought him for this purpose, but I didn't realize I would like him, even if he is trying to mate with me.Remember the fact that I mistakenly bought only an egg turner and not an incubator?
Who needs an incubator? We have a heat lamp and a thermometer! 18 eggs, Mother Hen {the banny} had managed to hoard 18 different eggs from me. She was not happy when I removed them, she actually hissed at me. We have them in the master bathroom along with the brooding chicks, keeping them at 100F {37c}. Tonight I will make a candeling box and see if they are developing.
So what is you favorite way to cook your turkey? Have any bread stuffing recipes you want to share?
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Remembering this day
September 11th 2001 started off as a beautiful morning in Kansas. My middle child was one week old, he had slept all through the night, and I awoke fully rested and prepared to deal with a new infants problems. He slept soundly in his wooden basinet as I switched on the television to watch Sally Jessie Raphael and eat my breakfast. A normal routine, something I picked up while pregnant. I watched as an airplane hit a building, I thought how sad and I wonder when that happened as I went into the kitchen to get my first cup of coffee. I assumed that the talk show was doing a program on disasters caught on tape. It wasn't until I was half finished with my mug of dark coffee when I realized that I wasn't watching Sally, I was watching live news and this plane, then planes, where in New York. Tears sprung to my eyes and I thought to my family, who was on those planes? My family is full of airline workers. They have been part of the flying world for years upon years. Was my uncle on that plane, what friends were working?
I stepped out onto my front porch to have a cigarette, something I hadn't done in a year. My suburban neighborhood was eerily quiet. No children were playing, no cars on the road. Even the pets seemed to know what was going on.
I went back into my home and rocked my child as I watched the horror on the television, mourning friends that I might have lost, and friends that would be change forever. Unfortunately I did lose 2 friends on that day, and almost lost a future friend. Dear anulla you are in my thoughts today.
I stumbled upon a website called 2,996 Project, and signed up immediately. I could tell you of my friends I lost, yet for some reason, a random person seemed more fitting to me. Random. . . not such a fitting word, I was given this man to honor for a reason, and as I type out my words I know I will discover that reason.
His name is Dennis A. Cross. I set forth to learn more of this man, to find things that would help my readers put a face and personality to this hero. I read page after page of prayers and love sent to him. A man of his family, a family that any father could, would be proud of. They have persevered. His wife JoAnn ran the Turkey Trot in memory of her beloved husband. For 18 years Battalion Chief Dennis Cross ran that very race. I have read that over and over, in different articles, and every time it makes me smile. I do not know this family, I do not know Dennis Cross, though I now feel like this is a man that I can and will admire. He was a strong, and dedicated man. At the age of 60 he would not just stand around and watch a building burn, he would charge right in. Captain Fearless, seems like such a fitting name that his friends, and “brothers” gave him.
Two thirds of Dennis Cross's life was spent being a firefighter. "He wanted to be the first to put in 50 years on the job." JoAnn Cross, his wife of 37 years, told The Chicago Tribune. I have no doubt that he would have been. His best friend Brian O'Flaherty saw Dennis's love for the fire department, and it convinced him to join as well. Mr. O'Flaherty was there when the south tower fell, he knew that his friend was lost.
Dennis Cross was a man of the outdoors. Skiing, running, sailing, playing ball with his children. He loved his family and his job. He was a lucky man to have so many loving people surround him in his life.
He died in rescue. Buried under the remains of the south tower. He was found seven days later.
Dennis Cross was a man of simple pleasures, loving chocolate, strawberry ice cream, a hot meal and a good beer, his daughter Laura tells people. A man after my own heart, I say. He was a man that I would love to have in my life, a mentor, a pillar. I think my readers will agree. Simple pleasures, a caring man, loyal and devoted. I wish I could have shaken his hand and thanked him for everything, and I mean everything not just his job, that he has done with his life.
To his wife JoAnn, his daughters Lisa and Laura, to his grand children, I send my love. To his son Brian, a New York Firefighter, I salute you and wish all of you well. You had many years with an incredible man.
"Take care of men, and men will take care of you."
Battalion Chief Dennis Cross
I stepped out onto my front porch to have a cigarette, something I hadn't done in a year. My suburban neighborhood was eerily quiet. No children were playing, no cars on the road. Even the pets seemed to know what was going on.
I went back into my home and rocked my child as I watched the horror on the television, mourning friends that I might have lost, and friends that would be change forever. Unfortunately I did lose 2 friends on that day, and almost lost a future friend. Dear anulla you are in my thoughts today.
I stumbled upon a website called 2,996 Project, and signed up immediately. I could tell you of my friends I lost, yet for some reason, a random person seemed more fitting to me. Random. . . not such a fitting word, I was given this man to honor for a reason, and as I type out my words I know I will discover that reason.
His name is Dennis A. Cross. I set forth to learn more of this man, to find things that would help my readers put a face and personality to this hero. I read page after page of prayers and love sent to him. A man of his family, a family that any father could, would be proud of. They have persevered. His wife JoAnn ran the Turkey Trot in memory of her beloved husband. For 18 years Battalion Chief Dennis Cross ran that very race. I have read that over and over, in different articles, and every time it makes me smile. I do not know this family, I do not know Dennis Cross, though I now feel like this is a man that I can and will admire. He was a strong, and dedicated man. At the age of 60 he would not just stand around and watch a building burn, he would charge right in. Captain Fearless, seems like such a fitting name that his friends, and “brothers” gave him.
Two thirds of Dennis Cross's life was spent being a firefighter. "He wanted to be the first to put in 50 years on the job." JoAnn Cross, his wife of 37 years, told The Chicago Tribune. I have no doubt that he would have been. His best friend Brian O'Flaherty saw Dennis's love for the fire department, and it convinced him to join as well. Mr. O'Flaherty was there when the south tower fell, he knew that his friend was lost.
Dennis Cross was a man of the outdoors. Skiing, running, sailing, playing ball with his children. He loved his family and his job. He was a lucky man to have so many loving people surround him in his life.
He died in rescue. Buried under the remains of the south tower. He was found seven days later.
Dennis Cross was a man of simple pleasures, loving chocolate, strawberry ice cream, a hot meal and a good beer, his daughter Laura tells people. A man after my own heart, I say. He was a man that I would love to have in my life, a mentor, a pillar. I think my readers will agree. Simple pleasures, a caring man, loyal and devoted. I wish I could have shaken his hand and thanked him for everything, and I mean everything not just his job, that he has done with his life.
To his wife JoAnn, his daughters Lisa and Laura, to his grand children, I send my love. To his son Brian, a New York Firefighter, I salute you and wish all of you well. You had many years with an incredible man.
"Take care of men, and men will take care of you."
Battalion Chief Dennis Cross
Battalion 57
Laid to Rest
on September 22, 2001
Guest blogger: Bringing home the sheep
Hello Dear Readers,
Phelan has invited me to guest-blog today. She wanted me to write about something I have mastered as a result of homesteading for the past 3 years. Well, I don't believe that I've created enough mastery in any one aspect of rural living, so I'll tell you about the newest additions to our humble pile o'caliche.
One of the online communities I belong to, as a result of living frugally, Freecycle, has provided us with some great finds, the latest being 8 grown Karakul sheep. The owner was able to deliver only 4 to begin with (we only joke about having to download them from the internet), and we are still waiting on the other 4.
The sheep were huge in their wooliness, and we acted as soon as we could to relieve them of their overcoats. We naively opted for the hand shears, picked up at an old-style ranch supply store near the airport in Austin, and we opened up our copy of Barnyard in Your Backyard to the proper page one fine evening.
We'd done a little reading about shearing competitions, so we thought that we'd be done long before dark. Two hours later, I finally had to go check on our son, who was sitting in the dark in his play area, and I also had to run an extension cord from the well house to the garage and plug in DH's old desk lamp so we could finish the job.
[BTW, our son was not actually in the dark; he was sitting in his play tent shaking his new battery-powered maraca that lights up with various colors when shaken. Did I mention that he's just turned 1? He's my smart little cookie!]
We finally got a good rhythm going with the shears, but still had to trade off, as they were physically hard to use. At one point, some sort of bee was tormenting us, and I finally zapped it with some OFF! The temperature didn't come down much from the daytime, so we were still sweating (no, not perspiring nor glowing--SWEATING like horses running from an F5 tornado) at 9:30 when we were satisfied with our first shear job.
Of course, when the professional shearers from Johnson City came out (on Labor Day, what great guys), they said it looked like we went at it with a pair of scissors. Well, compared to what their set-up was capable of, I guess he did look pretty scruffy. We even left one little dread behind his left ear for character.
This part of my story does come with some sad news, however. Just before the Labor day weekend, we noticed that one of the males was not with the herd, so DH went looking for him. The carcass was in the back corner, near where the large garden will be next year. It appeared to be the work of coyotes, or possibly the neighbors' dogs (they took several goats from the place next door last year). Not much we could do at that point, but to haul it up on one of our burn piles and let the vultures have their way with it. When the county lifts the burn ban, we'll toss what we have in the freezer (a whole other story I've included elsewhere) onto there and say our goodbyes.
Well, friends of Phelan, I hope you've found my story entertaining. The Beatles concert on PBS is over (my son was watching it during his bedtime boycott), so I need to get everyone to bed.
Yours in critter-wrangling,
Marina
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you Marina!
Drop on over to Tales of a Texas FarmWife and see what else she has been up to.
We have all started out as a neophyte, do you have a story to tell? Have you mastered a skill, or just pretty darn good at it, then teach me. e-mail me at eirennaigh @ juno dot com and I will post your story, pictures and links. Please keep it on the subject of do-it-yourself type projects such as {my hobbies} learning to cook, making crafts { I make chainmaille} dealing with livestock/pets, building your own home/fencing/barn/chicken tractor... you get the picture.
Phelan has invited me to guest-blog today. She wanted me to write about something I have mastered as a result of homesteading for the past 3 years. Well, I don't believe that I've created enough mastery in any one aspect of rural living, so I'll tell you about the newest additions to our humble pile o'caliche.
One of the online communities I belong to, as a result of living frugally, Freecycle, has provided us with some great finds, the latest being 8 grown Karakul sheep. The owner was able to deliver only 4 to begin with (we only joke about having to download them from the internet), and we are still waiting on the other 4.
The sheep were huge in their wooliness, and we acted as soon as we could to relieve them of their overcoats. We naively opted for the hand shears, picked up at an old-style ranch supply store near the airport in Austin, and we opened up our copy of Barnyard in Your Backyard to the proper page one fine evening.
We'd done a little reading about shearing competitions, so we thought that we'd be done long before dark. Two hours later, I finally had to go check on our son, who was sitting in the dark in his play area, and I also had to run an extension cord from the well house to the garage and plug in DH's old desk lamp so we could finish the job.
[BTW, our son was not actually in the dark; he was sitting in his play tent shaking his new battery-powered maraca that lights up with various colors when shaken. Did I mention that he's just turned 1? He's my smart little cookie!]
We finally got a good rhythm going with the shears, but still had to trade off, as they were physically hard to use. At one point, some sort of bee was tormenting us, and I finally zapped it with some OFF! The temperature didn't come down much from the daytime, so we were still sweating (no, not perspiring nor glowing--SWEATING like horses running from an F5 tornado) at 9:30 when we were satisfied with our first shear job.
Of course, when the professional shearers from Johnson City came out (on Labor Day, what great guys), they said it looked like we went at it with a pair of scissors. Well, compared to what their set-up was capable of, I guess he did look pretty scruffy. We even left one little dread behind his left ear for character.
This part of my story does come with some sad news, however. Just before the Labor day weekend, we noticed that one of the males was not with the herd, so DH went looking for him. The carcass was in the back corner, near where the large garden will be next year. It appeared to be the work of coyotes, or possibly the neighbors' dogs (they took several goats from the place next door last year). Not much we could do at that point, but to haul it up on one of our burn piles and let the vultures have their way with it. When the county lifts the burn ban, we'll toss what we have in the freezer (a whole other story I've included elsewhere) onto there and say our goodbyes.
Well, friends of Phelan, I hope you've found my story entertaining. The Beatles concert on PBS is over (my son was watching it during his bedtime boycott), so I need to get everyone to bed.
Yours in critter-wrangling,
Marina
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you Marina!
Drop on over to Tales of a Texas FarmWife and see what else she has been up to.
We have all started out as a neophyte, do you have a story to tell? Have you mastered a skill, or just pretty darn good at it, then teach me. e-mail me at eirennaigh @ juno dot com and I will post your story, pictures and links. Please keep it on the subject of do-it-yourself type projects such as {my hobbies} learning to cook, making crafts { I make chainmaille} dealing with livestock/pets, building your own home/fencing/barn/chicken tractor... you get the picture.
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