Our Amish Neighbors

I just saw a buckboard wagon drawn by two horses pass in front of our house. Of course it had two of our Amish neighbors on it. One of the many reasons we really enjoy living here...

Locavores Go Hunting

I am always pleased when I learn that more people are taking up hunting and fishing as activities. I have recounted here the difficulties the young squire and I had when we decided a decade ago to pursue those pastimes since we didn't have anyone to mentor us. Our young miss was the first person I ever heard use "Whole Food" speak to describe hunting; especially for acquaintances and co-workers that had difficulty envisioning her as a hunter let alone condoning hunting as an activity for someone with a college degree. But I have to say I get a particular kick from foodies being driven to hunt as recounted in this recent New York Times article.

There you have it - hunting, gardening and canning have come full circle and are now "hip" from a green standpoint. All I can say is "Spare me".

Update: For those that like to keep track of such things, our young miss, her young man and the young squire have taken six deer this season (two bucks and four does) as of yesterday. The freezers are filling up and the eating will be good for the foreseeable future.

Flowers Along The Picket Fence

I love the fall. At least we get one last color treat before the monochrome of winter takes over.

The flowers are what M'Lady refers to as "volunteers" - seeds from some of last years plants, the wind or the birds. If they're tough enough to survive and come back in the spring she lets them grow where ever they appear.

Cider Man

Over the weekend the young squire and I pressed our first ever batch of apple cider using a cider press our young miss picked up at an auction. We ended up with 12 gallons - 10 of which we are going to turn into hard cider. It's already in the cellar beginning its primary fermentation. We hope to have 25 gallons of hard cider by the time the season is over and are already looking forward to offering it to our guests at Thanksgiving.

This is definitely a job for more than two people as it literally took us all weekend to make 12 gallons. But we took our time and picked through all of the apples, removing any questionable spots or bruises. As a result, the juice we got was delicious and we are hopeful it will make drinkable hard cider.

The Sad Part Is - I Know People Like This

Ever since M'Lady and I moved to our current pastoral setting this kind of thing keeps getting funnier and funnier. If the commercial isn't enough for you - try this story about paying to work on a farm as a vacation.

Still want to find out where your food comes from? I would be willing to let you clean our chicken coop if you paid me $50.00. But you can't keep the eggs or "the compost".

H/T: Instapundit

All Along The ....

M'Lady and I have been thinking that our next adventure into animal husbandry may be goats. We have seen many for sale and have noticed that they seem to enjoy climbing - a lot.

Perhaps we should put a goat tower on our build list.

Harvest Time

The strawberries M'Lady planted last year are finally here. In the last few days we have harvested 55 pounds of berries with many more still to come.

We are experimenting with various jam recipes, drying some for granola and probably freezing some. The best though is eating them right off the vine. This evenings meal, which we did not sit down to eat until after 9:00 PM because we were busy canning, consisted of garden salad greens, purple onion, goat cheese, fresh strawberries and grilled chicken breast dressed with balsamic vinegar.

Canning, in general, is hard work but we find it to be a wonderful way to stock our larder with items picked at the peak of their flavor.

Besides, the lavender hand soap we use mixed with the scent of strawberries is not altogether displeasing either when you're cleaning up after picking or canning.

Quote Of The Day

With all due apologies to The Clash:

Should I weed or should I mow now?
Should I weed or should I mow now?
If I mow there will be trouble
If I don't weed they will double
So come on and let me know
Should I weed or should I mow?

Peonies

I have always loved the beautiful colors of peonies but have found them to be quite droopy. I found this French flower pail at a local resale shop and immediately imagined it full of peonies. Then the strangest thing happened and the house began to fill up with an almost rose-like scent. Never having brought them inside before I had no idea peonies had such a fabulous scent. They will now have an honored place in our home as a harbinger of spring.

Springtime Sunday Brunch

M'Lady walked out to the garden this morning and brought back some first year asparagus and new chives. We combined them with fresh eggs from our chicken coop and proceeded to make the most fantastic omelets I have ever eaten or expect to eat for that matter.

The difference in flavor and texture from store bought asparagus is astounding. And what better way to spotlight it than in a simple omelet.

I submit that it doesn't get much better than this.

Au Revoir

It's the end of an era down on the farm this morning. We just finished culling our first flock of chickens and they are now moving on to their next plane of existence as stock, chicken and dumplings or, in the case of our rooster Richard, Coq Au Vin. The hens were producing fewer and fewer eggs as happens when they get older and the eggs they did manage to lay they ate. So a new flock of ten Golden Buff hens will be taking their place shortly. And so it goes....

Jeep To The Rescue

Recently we had some very wet weather followed by gusty winds that resulted in one of our pine trees getting blown over. As you can see "The Leaning Tower of Pine" came to rest in a nearby ash tree. Not being lumberjacks, we were unsure about how to bring the pine down safely. The young squire and I reviewed the problem and then put our plan into action.

When in doubt - use the Jeep!

The Leaning Tower of Pine is now The Horizontal Tower of Pine. All that's left is for the chainsaws and chipper shredder to do their job. Ahhh, the joys of country living.

Winter Weather

It's not easy to look out the window today and imagine that in a mere three months this scene


will look like this. Spring is coming, though it is hard to believe as we watched the bench seat disappear in the snow.

It's Cold Outside

Well, the kitchen thermometer said minus 10 degrees F. this morning which is the same thing it said yesterday morning. My car started reluctantly and while I was waiting for it to warm up a bit I noticed that there was frost inside the vehicle. The digital car thermometer displayed minus 13. And you know it's cold outside when the snow squeaks like styrofoam when you walk on it.

We all just suck it up and keep on moving with the certain knowledge that pretty soon it'll be 95 and humid.

You got to be tough if you want to live around here.

Blackberry Pie Time Again

M'Lady, the young squire and I picked wild blackberries this morning. We have a pie in the oven and one waiting to go in as I type. Hopefully, our blackberries will bear fruit next year so we won't have to go wading through the thorny wild bushes again. And our blackberries are thornless!

Update:

I Love Libertarian Farmers

Over at Maggie's Farm the Dylanoligist writes about the overlap of Left and Right when it comes to food issues:

"Take Michael Pollan's recent book, The Omnivore's Dilemma, where the left-wing New Yorker, anti-corporate and anti-factory-farm Pollan finds his utopia not in some Berkeley commune or fetishized indigenous village, but on a Virginia farm - not too far from Monticello, incidentally - run by a right-wing Christian fellow. The anti-corporate and pro-animal welfare concerns of the left and the anti-government, pro-traditionalist views of the right approach each other and, for an instant, cross paths. In its hurried dash away from big agriculture, the Left does not run into Karl Marx, but into Thomas Jefferson and the image of the virtuous republican farmer, tending to his fields and animals without help from nitrogen fertilizer, tomatoes from Monsanto, or growth-promoting antibiotics."

The right-wing Christian fellow mentioned above is Joel Salatin who, in addition to being a farmer, is also a writer. Here is an excerpt from Salatin's essay "Everything I Want To Do Is Illegal":

"I don’t ask for a dime of government money. I don’t ask for government accreditation. I don’t want to register my animals with a global positioning tattoo. I don’t want to tell officials the names of my constituents. And I sure as the dickens don’t intend to hand over my firearms. I can’t even use the “U” word. On every side, our paternalistic culture is tightening the noose around those of us who just want to opt out of the system — and it is the freedom to opt out that differentiates tyrannical and free societies.

How a culture deals with its misfits reveals its strength. The stronger a culture, the less it fears the radical fringe. The more paranoid and precarious a culture, the less tolerance it offers. When faith in our freedom gives way to fear of our freedom, then silencing the minority view becomes the operative protocol."

Wow. Sounds as if Salatin and Gene Logsdon would make quite the pair.

This Evening At The Pond

Cherry Time

The young squire and I picked the first cherries of the season yesterday. M'Lady is busy drying them and deciding what to do with the ones still on the tree. It is a bumper crop this year. Last year the tree got bit by a late frost and produced a dozen cherries - which the birds ate.

It's kind of difficult to judge just exactly how many cherries there are in this picture. We purchased the colander specifically for various canning chores because it is 16 inches in diameter and 8 inches deep!

Update: The colander mentioned above actually holds 14 quarts and M'Lady and I filled it again - twice! We calculated that we picked 42 quarts and, after pitting, the total weight was 30 pounds. Not a bad harvest.

Garden Blogging

We have been very busy in the garden lately and I haven't had a chance to post anything about it. All of M'Lady's seedlings are growing into healthy transplants which we will begin to put out later in the month. She already has half of the kitchen garden planted and the radishes are beginning to come up as is the lettuce.

In between thunderstorms yesterday, I took an opportunity to take a picture of some of our apple trees which are in full bloom right now.

Here is a picture of our recent addition of fruit trees - most all of which are showing signs of growth already. In a few years we hope to be harvesting cherries, peaches, apricots, pears and walnuts.

And later today I am going to plant blackberries....

It's Still Warm By The Stove

They come, one after another. I wish they'd leave me be. It's still warm by the stove.

I got tinder and wood 'til I'm gone and forgotten. The food still comes from the ground if you make it. Still they come and cluck their tongues and try to take me from my squalor.

Squalor. I always loved that word. The pastor would boom it from the pulpit, and the newspaper would have it from time to time, back when they could still write, talking about some woman and her cats. People don't understand thirty cats and one dish any more because they aren't on a farm with a pile of something worth eating they'd like to find still there in February.

I live in squalor so what. But they come dressed like streetwalkers or wandervogel or something and want to save me from it. Save me from myself. How can anybody do that, anyway?

They don't know about the shades that tread the house with me. Gone to their reward. I could not go away from them until they invite me to join them. And I will not let you scrub their residue from my walls.

I pray over their stones, including the granite stubs at our feet where we dared not write the names for fear of breaking our hearts over and over. But they have names in my heart, oh yes, they always did. I've whispered them in my own ear every day.

They come in their fancy cars, skinny with mindless exertions and not work, expiating their guilt on my doorstep. But you see, my life is like a coat that's gone shabby and threadbare and I don't care. Many garments are not for show on a farm.

So my life is lived in squalor, and this must not be, you demand. But I take one look at you and know that you never spent one moment in squalor, but your life is squalid. You're a gilt-edge leather-bound thirty-dollar Bible with all the pages written by Beelzebub. Not the same, is it? People didn't use to try to save you. They'd extend their hand and call you friend. I can't find it even in church anymore.

Leave me be, by my little fire, to be warmed by the life I lived. I'll not join you on your icebergs.

Written by Sippican Cottage.