Doggone

She's hairy, and dusty, and she sometimes walks so close to me I can't see her in my shadow. Once in a while, her stick-to-me glue gets on my nerves. But she's mine.

She came to me through Craigslist. We've been together since August of 2009. Once in a while I get wistful for a Corgi, or a Basset Hound, or a Shetland Sheep Dog, or a Labrador, or a Mini-Australian Shepherd, or a Blue Heeler/ACD, but I'm pretty happy with my Border Collie.

She thinks she is the boss, she tries to herd children, ducks, chickens, pigs, cows, and goats if you let her. Mostly she takes her "job" of protecting her territory very seriously.

She's quirky. She has one blue eye, and the other eye is 3/4 black and 1/4 blue, which makes her look cross-eyed sometimes. She hates baths and loves popcorn. She sleeps on my feet and is the first to greet me when I come home and open the gate.

Meet Sam.

1st Annual Sandhillls Farm Tour

Do you like buying local? Do you enjoy visiting farms? If so be sure to take your family on the 2011 Sandhills Farm Tour! Local farms in Montgomery, Moore and Richmond counties are hosting their first annual farm tour Saturday July 23rd from 3-7 PM. This is a perfect family outing where you can tour the farms, sample great locally grown food, and have a day of excitement!

Each farm has a specialty whether it is with local food or providing outdoor sports. Some of the farms will have cooking demonstrations and family fun activities. If you are interested in attending tickets are only $10.00 per car before July 22nd! Tickets can be purchased from Montgomery Cooperative Extension office or you can purchase tickets at the farm site the day of for $15.00 per car (giving you access to all farms). 

The list of participating

farms:

Clayton Orchard 

289 Research Farm Rd. 

Candor, NC 27229 

Dewitt’s Game Farm & Dewitt’s Outdoor Sports 

443 Jimmy Carriker Rd 

Ellerbe, NC 28338 

Hilltop Angus Farm 

1708 Pee Dee Rd. 

Mt. Gilead, NC 27306

Hope Farms 

117 NC Hwy 731 E 

Mt. Gilead, NC 27306 

Shadow Hill Farm & Kennel 

1723 Belford Church Rd. 

Jackson Springs, NC 27281 

Triple L Farms 

2205 Derby Rd. 

Ellerbe, NC 28338 

Vang Farms 

189 Beaman Rd. 

Troy, NC 27371

For more info or to purchase tickets come by the: 

NC Cooperative Extension 

203 W. Main Street, Troy NC 27371 

(910) 576-6011

Come see us!

I'm growing mushrooms!!

I had such a great time yesterday at the Mushroom Workshop and would like to send out a big thank you to Anne Pärtna, Hugh Martin and Greg Bender for being gracious and patient teachers.  


With me came home with seven small logs having drilled holes, inoculated with mushroom spawn, and sealed with wax.  I placed the logs on the north side of the house, and they will be fine there, for now, but when the days get longer I'll have to move them into a thicket of sorts so as not to expose them to too much direct sunlight.


In between arriving at the workshop and coming home, I met so many pleasant and interesting people, along with firming up bonds with people I've begun to know and enjoy.  


I can't wait to get together with some others who are going to continue with their mushroom growing and expand my little mushroom operation.  It is said, after all, that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. 


This year is going to be a busy, productive, more-than-likely stressful at times and entirely fulfilling four-seasons of fun, food and fellowship.  

photo credit 

Left Behind.

There is a responsibility we carry, as a species, to be conscious of the consequences of our choices.  While there are more than everyone's fair share of topics out there to be covered, I can pontificate on one close to my heart (and stomach).  Food.  Specifically, food that comes from a farm, and the farmers.There are small, medium, large and super-sized farms in our wide world, and from many of them come delicious nutritious food.  Some of them, not so much.

What  often isn't contemplated, is the farmer who got bigger and better and faster and more industrial in order to pay his mortgage and feed his family, who is proverbially and literally being left behind in this conundrum of politics vs. food vs. a higher consciousness of the people (which is a threat to the great food monopolies that be, and their astronomical yearly incomes!) (We won't mention ~ahem~ the political support they provide).

I'm guilty as charged.  I've often thought only of not feeding my family the anti-biotic laden, hormone-laced, arsenic fed and brutally handled animals that are now meats available in the local grocery stores.  I've not thought about the farmer who mortgaged his home, land and hence, his children's inheritance in order to build the housing for the aforementioned animals to be raised in.  I'm not thinking about the work he or she does daily in order to make the mortgage payment on that burden, so that we American's can eat large-breasted chickens.  

It became real to me when I heard a farmer say (after 10 + years of hard farming) that he still had over $90,000 to pay on his poultry houses and by that time, I figured in my head silently;  he'd probably have to spend $600,000 more to "upgrade" his houses, or be denied a contract.  


So, isn't it great that there is a food movement and a lot of us are cutting out High Fructose Corn Syrup and BHT and MSG and not using Baking Powder with Aluminum in it?  


What about the millions of people who are employed by the "monsters that be" and pay their bills from their week-to-week paycheck - do they have a voice?  Do they lead food-conscious lives?  Or are they left behind also, with their $56.88 balance showing on the ATM receipt, after a balance inquiry (which cost them $1.00, incidentally) to stand in the grocery store, choosing between a frozen pizza for $3.99 or a bag of apples for $4.29 knowing which is better, but what will fill the bellies of their children for now, until the next paycheck is cashed.  


It's a conundrum for sure, this 'movement', with a lot of variables and dynamics to be considered.


This is sometimes hard for me to process, and because of that, I revert back to a comforting saying, "If I don't help myself, I can't help others", and so it goes - with my sometimes overzealous and lofty goals of changing the world one bite at a time.  


In a sense, we've all been left behind some way, some how.  It makes a lot of sense to me that in our participation of this "food movement" that we consider the farmers of the "Factory Farms" and remember that they too have bills to pay, families to care for, and in a lot of ways, deserve as much respect as the organic, humane and certified farmer down the road.  

Hope Farms ~where hope grows wild~

I've created a blog just for the farm.  It will focus more on farming and what we have for sale and less on me my musings.  Go check it out and tell me what you think!

http://hope-farms.blogspot.com

On whispering to chickens.

At one point I'd lost track of how many were out in the pasture. I had a general idea but had not written down an exact number. When one is watching chicken tv this isn't the time for counting. It is a time for listening, watching and wondering exactly how big is a chicken brain? Go ahead, call me a chicken whisperer. Did I ever tell you about the time I sewed up a chicken's neck with needle and thread? For real. Ask my Mom, she'll tell you.

Some are more friendly than others. Some regard you with a suspicious eye and turn on their toes and point their fluffy feather bottom towards you when you move a muscle. Others hop right onto bended knee and look somewhat sideways at you while making a slow but deliberate "waaaaallllllkkkk" noise at you. It's almost a question, this "waaaaallllkkk" noise. The answer to which I've not found yet, but about a 1/3 of a coffee can full of lay crumble will usually quell it, if only for a little while.

Wing clipping day provided the counting opportunity that I needed. We lured them in to the henhouse with food and then closed their chicken door. I got the scissors, a bin to put the feathers in and Captain Strong Arms was the designated holder.

We officially have; 18 Red Stars, a hybrid super-layer made by breeding a Rhode Island Red with a Delaware hen or the likes. One Rhode Island Red Hen. One New Hampshire Red Hen. One Easter-Egger (Mrs. Featherbottom, one of my original hens), one game hen (Mrs. TopHat), one game-ameracauna hen (Ms. TopHat Jr.), one game-easter-egger-something-or-other (Ms. Henrietta, who came here carried in my sweatshirt, from Jimmy's farm), and one of my original Ameracauna girls (Mrs. GreenEggers) from the Biscoe fleamarket. Add to this my two OEBB-Red Bantams, their husband "Little Guy", the nicest speckled shy rooster ever to grace the henhouse here at Hope Farms, and their two daughters, "black girls." The most recent addition has been "Bert", my blue Cochin Rooster who I am determined to make a pet out of. He's not quite sure of my intentions but patronizes me adequately.

Running Total: 31

As if we were done. Sheesh, do you people know how in love with chickens I am?

There are three new children, in quarantine currently to make sure they are healthy and happy; Three Bantam Golden Seabrights. A Roo and his two ladies. As yet unnamed, but unbelievably gorgeous.

Then, to use the old cliche, last but not least are the six beautiful Blue Orpingtons compliments of some new friends that we willingly and loudly claim - Thank You for breeding these beautiful shy and yet simultaneously proud creatures. I am going to promise to enjoy them every single day. Even when it is muddy out there.

Grand Total: 40 Chickens to Whisper To. *remind me to tell you about the "bawlk bawlk" joke someday....

So, that's it. For today. And, I want you all to know that instead of doing my English homework, I blogged. So now I can cross that off of my to-do list for today.

A parting thought, compliments of a sticky note my mother left in one of the books she sent me:

"Just for today: there is enough love, there is enough time, and there is enough money".

Amen.

I need a wha ??

FEIN, LLC, LLP, Sole Proprietorship, Business Plans, Sales and Use Tax, and since we're on the subject of Taxes we might as well throw in the IRS! How about and EIN? SSID?

It's almost here, this "starting a business" deal. It's oh-so-much-easier spoken about than actually starting the first thing on the list. That's because it's unclear what the first "thing" is!

When approaching my husband with the idea of writing an actual business plan he says, "the plan is, buy stuff, grow stuff, raise stuff, and sell it." Agreed. Because he's actually up with the chickens, I can't complain too loudly. Sometimes, however, I get a little stuck on the fine print and need a break.

Since life is what happens while we're making other plans, I'm a little behind on the official stuff and will be catching up here in the next few weeks.

I just had to rant a bit about how a great idea can get the fluff taken out of it when one looks at the hard knock requirements of business. If only it were so easy as Captain Strong Arms makes it out to be.

If you need me, I'll be over here, in this mound of governmental bureaucratic paperwork with fine print as far as the almost-forty-year-old eye can see. Ahem.

Life is still good.

Turkey Tales

Once upon a time, there were three white production turkeys.  We found them via FreeCycle, an invaluable tool for frugal folk, picked them up and brought them home.

So cute and fluffy - or - as I like to say, "so ugly he's cute".  These are the turkeys raised akin to the Cornish Cross chickens, like the one I rescued. They have been bred to grow quickly and basically grow so large and awkward that they cannot reproduce on their own.

When we first brought them home they were about one year old.  They followed us around like dogs having been raised by a young girl for a 4-H project.  Her mom promised her that they would not slaughter any 4-H project and so this is why they were FreeCycled.  p.s. they eat a lot.  I mean, a LOT!

The turkeys seemed to like living here at Hope Farms.  They were all the rage with the neighbors.  Well, except for one neighbor who came visiting and got chased over the fence feathers flapping, feet a flying and needless to say, her feathers were a bit, er, ruffled.

Unfortunately, one of the turkeys attacked a dear friends daughter and scratched her back, so we had to give him away.  This was of course after we ate the first one for Thanksgiving.  It was the best turkey I've EVER tasted.  Thank You God for this food.  Thank you turkey for giving us food.  Amen.

And then, the last one attacked dear husband!  So we ate him for Christmas!  

wordless wednesday

chicks: before and during

Baby Chicks. One of the cutest things known to man. They keep you guessing with their soft yellow downy fuzz - wondering what they're going to turn out to look like - and growing into their feathers that will soon appear.

We picked our Heavy Breed (straight run) Special from Reich's Poultry at the Post Office on May 26th, they were all a day or two old. We had ordered 50 - when you order that amount, they throw in five extra, and when I counted, we had 56.

There is, along with the element of surprise, an element of dread as well when raising baby chicks. With life, there is death. And so it is. There is the possibility that one or several more of these chicks will not survive for whatever reason - natural or man-made - and you will have to deal with it.

As far as the "after" that is missing from the title of this post:

Although we are raising these chicks with the high hopes that there are lots of hens (with a 'straight run' order, you get the hatchery's choice, or leftovers, of sex) there is the reality that there are more roosters than we want and so at around 10-12 weeks, we will slaughter them, process them and henceforth put them in the freezer.

The hens will remain here at Hope Farms for the rest of their lives - chickens can live to a ripe old age of 30-35 years, although their average lifespan is about 15 years. They provide great free entertainment too. It is always interesting to spend time with chickens and note their freakiness dispositions, the hierarchy of the flock, and how they respond to you, the human.

And now I leave you, potential chicken whisperer apprentice gentle reader with this video, which should make you a.) smile b.) want to order a batch of chicks and c.) somehow know that your head needs examining 3 weeks into raising baby chicks in your spare room, which now smells -strangely - like baby chick poop.

on growing stuff

It's not easy being green.  But it's more expensive to "buy green". Also, there's something refreshing and soulful about nurturing a plant, from seedling to full fledge blossoming and producing, fruits and vegetables springing forth, gaining size and color every day.  Eating the  gleaning is in and of itself an entirely separate fulfillment.

This is the cute part of gardening.  All of it tucked in neat little compartments, taking up little space and enjoying the warmth of the sun.  

Then, here we have the somewhat ugly task of mulching to control weeds, which isn't very pretty, but neither are the weeds.  I saw a quote once, and can't remember it verbatim, but it basically said that weeds are mother natures' flowers popping up where we don't want them.  Isn't that the truth?!

What we have here is the poor-man's version of raised-beds.  We composted manure, grass clippings, leaves, and added composted cotton-seed hulls and made our own unconventional "raised rows".  So far, they've worked great.  Ed mows between them with the push-mower and I hand weed the little rascals that show up in between and around the plants.  

I've culled the cabbage plants after harvest and am halfway done doing the same with the potatoes.  We have two rogue Corn plants each with one ear of corn on them.  We've been joking about who gets them since there are three of us.  It'll be like a fight between two one-armed men.  Not really, I just wanted to see if I could use that joke in some form of a sentence.  I'm sure Eddie will get both of them, he's the corn lover.  

Next year our 'beds' will be even more 'raised' - as we'll add more clippings, manure and other green and brown goodies.  Maybe in a few years they'll be waist-high and we won't have to bend over.  I'll keep you posted on that.

So when one garden's organically, one gets holy (holy? know how sometimes you type a word and it just doesn't look right?  this is one of those moments for me....)  hole-y produce.  I don't care. It's my way of sharing.

Speaking of gardening, I'd better get out there and tend to it.  

Happy Green Thumbing!

When the going gets tough, the tough get new boots.

So these have been my favorite pair only pair of boots for a very long time. These are my Ariat lace up boots. They've been through thick and thin, literally, for just over ten years now. My first pair only lasted 5 years through constant use, and these have had almost five years on hiatus. The break-in time on both pairs was painful, but worth every little blister.

So when it became nearly impossible to make it to the barn without ruining a pair of socks because of the leakage, I knew it was time for new boots.

And so it is.

Yes, they're pink. No, I don't normally wear them without jeans, but the point is; I CAN! And yes, my floor is filthy slightly dirty, which is precisely why I chose these boots in the first place! I can slip them off with ease at the porch door without tracking in poop! In the second place, they were ridiculously on sale, and marked down next to their purple counterparts of which I despised didn't care for, so, and here we are.

And here I go! These boots were made for mucking!

Peaches and Cream

We went away last weekend.  Not for our anniversary, or a valentines date, or for anything of the sort.  We went away to get.....a COW!

She is a Registered Jersey Cow, from a dairy in South Carolina and she is about 12 years old.

Her name is Peaches.  And we plan to make Peach Ice Cream this summer. Come on by, it'll be fun.  You have milked a cow before, right?

Did someone say summer?  As an aside, this weather is getting on my nerves a bit.  I'm sorta over the 21*f degree  mornings.  I'm sorta over frozen water buckets.

Anyhow, here are a few more pictures.  Because as the old cliche goes, a picture is worth a thousand words.

We love her.  

Also, it's official - after riding horses for most of my life, I never really could call myself a cowgirl - and now I CAN!!  

Sunday on the Farm

Last Sunday, November 15th, 2009.
From the inside looking out.

The Camellia Sasanqua is blooming; a wonderful introduction to winter days and chilly nights -

such a cheerful way to greet old man Winter.

It has not been a typical November here on the farm. Last Sunday was stunningly gorgeous. Seventy-some degrees, flip-flop and shorts weather. The grass still has some green to it, and while the leaves are turning and falling, and it feels like an Indian Summer.

There have been a few changes. The North side of the barn has had a makeover, and while we're not finished (is one ever finished?), we're happy with the improvements.

The North side of the barn was once walled in by cedar posts and a lot of tin that had seen better days.

Farmhouse husband removed said tin, replaced said posts, and made just a shed, so to speak, and at the East end, made a shelter that can house horses.

Attached to the horse-shelter, is a section of log-fence that meets the round-pen; essentially making a 'corral' between the NorthEast corner of the barn and the round-pen.

We fashioned a gate at the wall where the shelter door is. (It's unofficially one of those moments where describing something is inherently more complicated than looking at something....you have to be here. Hey! that's not a bad idea! Coffee or Tea anyone?) This makes it so you can lead the horse(s) in or out of the corral gate, or the shelter.

Now you can also see the six posts buried in li

near fashion in front of the corral fence. Those are going to be my cross-ties. This is a terrific way to tie horses so that they, 1. can't twist themselves around a pole inviting all sorts of interesting injuries. 2. learn patience while digging to china. and lastly 3. can't scoot over to

kick the daylights out of the horse tied next to them just for (drum roll please...) "kicks and giggles".

Of course, here is farmhouse husband and child using the gate after dumping a load of pine shavings into the horse shelter. The horses can enter and exit at both ends of the shelter, that way nobody gets trapped inside by an alpha horse (Slater...yes, I'm talkin' to YOU.)

This is another view, which also shows the gate from the horse corral into the cow's stall, pond and hence, the area that leads out to both pastures.

Well, that's it for this blog-post. I'm somewhat disenchanted with the picture loading process.

Until next post.

housewives, the almost-desperate kind

I thought housewives were supposed to lounge around in pajama's until noon, pile the dishes in the sink and wash them right before the husband gets home and in the meanwhile, do things like paint toenails, watch soap opera's and eat bon-bons....?

Somewhere, I missed a memo, because my glamorous life is busier than ever.

As evidenced by this here neglected and underfed blog.

Must.

Find.

Blog.

Fodder.

It's not necessarily that I have nothing to write about. We've repainted the kitchen, re-arranged the dining room, and the living room. FINISHED the living room, speaking of which, and it's lovely.

The fence is done. The barn is in order. The grape arbor has been put up. The leaves have been put into a compost bin. The walnuts have been picked up.

It's just that because all of this stuff is getting done, none of it is getting written here!

Supper's almost ready, got to run.

a month of sundays and two calves later

*phew!*

ahem.  uh, where were we?  ah yes.  calves.

here, have a go at this;

The first pictures (horizontally) are of BraveHeart.  The two pictures following are of Flicker.  When they arrived, they were full of energy, curious, and hungry.  We had a couple steep hills to climb, with the stress of transport and some other not-so-glamorous stuff that shall remain un-named, but all-in-all they're both doing great.  Growing, eating grass, knocking me down for their one bottle of milk a day and generally being calves (read:  LAZY!).

I can honestly say that flip flops are not really the desired footwear when one has two calves.  The poop just doesn't come off very well.  

Here's a video of the "Barnyard"  

and, we've added a couple kids to our farm as well.  

Life is good.  Now if I could just carve out some time to get the garden started.....