To the Hilt

our new lakefront property

{ 10:04, 2007-Jul-19 } { Posted in homestead projects } { 0 comments } { Link }

Well, construction has finally finished on the lakefront property... although the advertising is highly overstated in reference to the size of the finished product.

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The new tenants don't seem to mind, though. They've moved right in.

And look, it's even got its own bar....

...and built-in security system!

Relaxing by the bath (dust bath, that is).

For the record, that calico-looking fellow in the foreground is a rooster prospect. Anyone want Johnny?

satisfaction

{ 03:48, 2007-Apr-11 } { Posted in homestead projects } { 0 comments } { Link }

There is a feeling of satisfaction inherent when you are able to sink back into a chair with a cup of pudding, aware of the fact that you just finished packaging six drumsticks, dicing six chicken breasts and leaving them to marinate for the soup they shall go into tomorrow, sticking two hand-kneaded loaves of whole wheat applesauce bread into the oven, hanging laundry out on the clothesline for the first time since afore the winter, and fixing a fence. Or rather, walking the perimeter, reinserting the wire into its holder when need be, replacing broken holders, and noting the two or three spots that will require materials not currently on hand before they are properly fixed.

So I ask, can I do my job from home? It wouldn't be that difficult... just have them drop off the child I work with here instead of at the preschool, and he and I can do all sorts of fun farm chores together. Heck, he loves to bake. And cook. You should see his eyes light up whenever we do anything kitchen-related at school...

I can be with the kid I love and still get work done around here... that'd be the life.

Random inquiry for the few who read my blog: is it a sign of madness that I was perusing a homeschool curriculum catalog last night, pondering exactly which levels we would need to purchase on the off (or rather, over-the-moon-and-through-the-woods-it's-that-unlikely) chance that my parents were actually to adopt those four brothers that I stumbled across on adoptuskids.com? I think it is. Woodsie, I figured it out: I crack you up because, hey, I myself am already cracked!

In other news, there is something mildly disconcerting about having a hen hang around at your feet, watching you butcher a rooster in the slim hope that you might toss her a scrap of food from whatever it is that you're doing. Then again, perhaps she was reveling in the fact that the specific roo I was processing would never again torment her and her sisters ever again? Who knew that chickens could be so vindictive. By the by, Johnnycakes is the most gorgeous rooster I have ever seen. Not that I've gotten around a lot in my rooster-viewing days, but I've seen pictures, and... well... he beats them all. (Pride cometh before a fall, right? Maybe an anvil will fall on him. Or me, rather. Hmm.)

enter to win a remodeled kitchen

{ 06:43, 2007-Feb-27 } { Posted in homestead projects } { 1 comments } { Link }

If you could remodel your kitchen, what would you do differently? More space? Better appliances? A completely different layout?

What if I told you that you could enter to win $6,000 toward remodeling your kitchen simply by signing up over at Group Recipes? It is free to sign up, and you are automatically entered. Not only that, but you get to browse a website that seems to be getting fuller every day with new recipes. They even have a "taste generator" that calculates recipes that you might enjoy according to the ratings you have given on currently-entered recipes and a survey that you can take to help specify what you like.

Head on over, it's worth digging around. I've already got my eye on the Pesto Potatoes recipe, as well as the Feta and Spinach Bread!

missions savings and the foolishness of god

{ 10:38, 2006-Dec-10 } { Posted in homestead projects } { 2 comments } { Link }

This evening, our pastor delivered a message on "the foolishness of God".

Now, now, now, calm down and back up a step. He wasn't preaching some liberal New Age drivel. He was preaching from I Corinthians 1:18-29 and 2:5, and started out by asking about how many of us would like to see a revolution in our country. He went on to ask about what areas we would like to see revolution in, what our burden was. Some pat answers were, of course, things like schools, the home, our workplaces, etc. I have been contemplating the state of our country's food system off and on for the last week, so of course that popped into my head. I spent too much time, however, mulling over how to phrase that statement in a way that everyone would understand, that I missed the opportunity to raise my hand and declare that fact. Ah well, que sera sera. They're already starting to gather what a "health nut" I am; I packed a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and almonds to take to McDonald's when our church had their "Girl's Day Out" because I hate to think about the sort of things that goes into McDonald's food. I'm not saying that I don't enjoy their fries. That happens to actually be part of the problem.

So, they're beginning to see my issue with the majority of our nation's food. Small steps, I say. Well, anyway, he spoke about how to the world, the Word of God is foolishness, but as it says in verse twenty-five of chapter one, "Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men." He went on to talk about various topics that seem like foolishness to those of the world, even to some of those in our own church. Courtship and homeschooling were the two examples that he used, and he was very passionate about them: especially homeschooling, or at least taking responsibility for what your child is being taught.

The seed of agriculture (no pun intended) was already planted in my mind, so I begin to think it over. The agrarian movement seems like foolishness to most secular Americans, let alone those in the church. I think that I have even met with more resistance from those that I have expressed just a minor amount of these ideas to, than I have outside my church. They call me "health nut" or think I lean toward "New Age" because of my interest in herbs. They think I'm just downright weird for wanting to make soap.

I believe that my burden is the state of our food and agricultural system. It is not healthy; it is corrupt, like so many other things that corrupt mankind has touched. I know that I have not adequately described the message that he gave, and that this idea is nothing new to any of you, but for me it has helped to renew my resolution. There are a handful of folks in our church that are involved in the "food industry", so to speak - dairy farming. They are not huge farms, by any means. I have been to the one, and it is owned by a Mennonite family. They are by no means grass-fed, but they are let out on pasture, and they are not given hormones. I am going to start praying that the Lord would allow me to be an influence to these families as I try to learn more about all of this.

I would really like to get my hands on the DVD called "The Future of Food". Herrick Kimball offered to pass the DVD around to various agrarian bloggers a while back on his blog. Unfortunately, I missed out on getting on the list by about three days, so unless he offers it again sometime soon, I think that I will end up purchasing it from Christina over at Fuller Family Farms. If this DVD is as good as I have been hearing from the internet, perhaps I could lend it to some of them and let them watch it.

For now, I will stick with slowly trying to turn our family toward more agrarian choices. I have managed to get my parents on organic sugar. Granted, yes, it is still refined, but at least it's a step above what we were consuming. My father pretty much *won't* give up refined sugar, so there's not much that I can do in that area, but I have been trying to avoid it, by using honey or maple syrup instead. I have found that a small touch of maple syrup is excellent in hot tea. We will continue to eat our own farm-fresh chicken eggs. I have been trying to be consistent about buying raw milk from the Mennonite dairy that's vaguely near where I go to church. It's a little out of the way, down back roads, so it will be tough with the winter weather, so we'll have to wait and see.

I have been given the opportunity to receive a breadmaker for Christmas. Actually, I was given the choice between an iPod and a breadmaker, and after much deliberation with myself even operating on the knowledge that the breadmaker was, of course, the wiser choice, I finally relented and told my mother as much. She agreed, although I think she was holding out slightly for me to choose the iPod, as she and I are both music aficiandos. Ah well, I don't really need it, and if it's the Lord's will for me to end up with one - which would be nice, as my vehicle doesn't recognize burned CDs, and I would love to be able to listen to downloaded music and sermons, but it's not exactly a need - then my mother will win the random door-prize at the company party on Tuesday and end up with one. Highly unlikely, but you never know.

On top of being pretty much sure that I'll be getting a breadmaker for Christmas, I am hoping to start making soap around that time as well. I've acquired lye. I've got olive oil. I also have tea tree oil and wintergreen essential oil. My mother has a stainless steel pot. I lack, however, stainless steel spoons, a thermometer, and.. oh, yeah... a mold. Slight issue there, but if I can find a good enough example online, I think that I can get my father to help me make one, as he is rather handy with wood.

I hope to become proficient enough at both of these to be able to market them small-scale to the women that I work with at the daycare center, and to the people at my church. I am going to start out by seeing if anyone at work would be interested in purchasing farm-fresh eggs, as our young hens are laying now and we have a definite surplus of eggs. Who knows, perhaps this will be an opportunity to educate, as well. My goal through this is to not only help our family to be able to be a little healthier and God-sufficient (my replacement for the term "self-sufficient") rather than culture-reliant, is to tuck away any profit for the trip to Romania that our missions team is taking in August.

I could easily take what I have in savings and make the trip. The problem is that while most of the missions team members are in their teens, and are not currently employed in an effort to save up for college, my purpose for staying home for a year was to save up for college in an attempt to forego as much "loaning" as possible. I know that if the Lord wills for me to go on this trip, He can easily supply the funds. That doesn't mean I should be sitting around on my duff waiting for it to fall into my lap, either. So, at this point in time, I will continue to tithe and give my monthly commitment to the missions fund (which goes to our missionaries, not the missions team, for the record). I am going to set aside an amount that I will put into my own missions savings fund with each paycheck, but at this point I don't know how large that will be, as I can't completely neglect my college savings fund, ye ken?

So, for those of you who have taken the time and had the inclination to read this far down into my post, I thank you, and I ask you to be in prayer that the Lord will supply what He sees fit in reference to my college and missions savings. Furthermore, what have you found is the average price for a dozen farm-fresh eggs? I would like to put up a flyer at work at some point in the next week, but I don't want to over- or under-price my (well, all right, the hens') product.

Thank you muchly!

adventures with a psychopathic bantam

{ 09:59, 2006-Sep-24 } { Posted in homestead projects } { 2 comments } { Link }

It all started when my best friend's father called up and asked, "Do you want a chicken?" They were on their way back from a family reunion, that much I knew. How did they come by this chicken? What breed was it? Was it a hen or a rooster? Did it have three eyes or one leg? I knew not.

In the end, we did not receive a chicken. We received a brood of eight bantam chicks and one feathered psychopath. The brood consisted of three chicks in varying shades of brown or red, three white chicks, and three black chicks. We lost three to an unknown predator. Our prime suspect is the rats that we have been seeing sneak back onto the property with the addition of our horses, but the detectives were never able to come to a conlusion on the case. We then took the remaining brood from their caretaker, and brought them into our house from the coop, where they would be warm. We lost two more in an escapade involving home-mixed feed and rickets. We were down to three of our valuable little friends. And one monster.

She - for it had become clear through her overzealous mothering instincts that she was, indeed, a hen. At least, she resembled one - was thriving, much to the chagrin of our older, larger hens. They were a bit disgruntled. First we had brought in nearly twenty little screaming things that were constantly underfoot, stealing what they took to be their food and the attentions of their rooster, and now... this? Fortunately, this new addition took to the idea of sleeping in the rafters of the coop, instead of on the perch where the rest of the flock resided. While she was, indeed, the only one who could manage such heights at that time, there are still those who lurk in the shadows that claim she did so out of antisocial spite and dangerous positioning in order to divebomb any "intruding" humans. I was beginning to believe these conspiracy theories. We named her "Rafter".

It did not bother me that she slept up there. She was out of the way, in some aspects. But then - well, then it went to far. She began to corrupt the youngsters. It became apparent that while they were shunned by the older hens, this newcomer was willing to accept them. These adolescent chickens took to her like ardent worshippers after some mountain guru. That is, until she started to beat on the up-and-coming roosters in the flock. I will get to that soon enough. Now, they started to take after her example. They began to roost in the rafters, something they were still capable of at their size and age.

One day, we noticed something new in the egg contraption that adorns the southern wall of our coop. A miniscule egg. Eureka! She was indeed laying eggs. Before long, however, we stopped seeing them. Had she found a new place to lay? Our older, wiser hens had done so in the past. It was not an altogether far-fetched idea that she, too, would do so. The only difference was that one could find it believable that she did so out of sheer spite, rather than the instinct of hiding her clutch.

I did not think much of it. After all, they were bantam eggs. Not as large as the other eggs we were getting, and therefore not as big of a concern. It was just one hen, and strangely, her neurosis was beginning to endear itself to me. (It is just one of the signs that I am losing my sanity one little bit at a time.)

Time elapsed. Our adolescents were quickly approaching the threshold of adulthood. One rankled youngster even developed the audacity to begin crowing. She beat on him. Still he crowed. She continued to beat on him when they would come to the same pile of feed in the pasture. I think that she has successfully given the other young roosters a complex, for none of them have begun to crow. Only he, and the two old roosters, grace us with their beautiful song. (I know, I have no taste in music.) I did not think much of it.

Tonight, after feeding the horses, I opened the dutch door to allow the chickens who had not flown over it - another habit picked up from their illustrious role model - into the barn and subsequently, into their coop. I shut the elderly matrons of the flock and the young ladies in, and ushered the young roosters out. I wanted the hens to get used to being shut in there at night, instead of just roosting wherever they pleased. I did not tell the young roosters why they were being shunned. I prefer to let them live out their last days peacefully.

I then walked over and scooped up the three young bantams off of their favorite roosting spot and carried them over to the coop, as well. We apparently did not remove them from their mother's influence soon enough, for they too have adopted rebellious roosting habits. They have taken up residence on the edge of a plastic crate near the horse feed bins. Whenever I open the top of the bin, they come racing from wherever they happen to be at the moment, scramble over the bale of straw at the doorway, and start clamoring for horse feed. They learn quick.

It was then that I realized that I had not seen Rafter for at least two days. Hmm. I had seen her roost in the rafters of the barn itself on nights when the coop door was closed before she came in for the night. It was a good twenty feet off of the ground, but she had managed to include a stop on top of the rabbit towers to allow her to achieve such heights. She was not there now. However, there was always the hay loft. Snatching a flashlight, I climbed up the ladder and onto the hayloft. I shone the flashlight around, looking for places she could be roosting. No sight of her. Shrugging, I began to shine it around the rest of the loft, examining the contents. After all, we need to remove them in order to store hay up there for the winter. After passing the beam over the few old, dusty hay bales that were sitting against the wall, I did a double-take. Or rather, the flashlight did.

There, pressed down between two of the bales, was my favorite ruddy-feathered psychopath. She fled, and I paused. There, where she had been settled, were nine little eggs. She was setting. This would prove to be interesting. After all, we did not have a bantam rooster. Two full-size roosters, and a half-dozen adolescent ones. Could the eggs be fertile? It was dark enough in the loft that I began to "candle" each one with the beam of the flashlight. I am not an expert candler - we've only ever had one hen go broody and hatch out eggs, and she did so without our knowledge. However, it would appear that seven of them have at least some development, while when I examined two of them, there was not a dark area and the air sac moved as I moved the egg. Not being an expert, though, I set them back with the other seven, and climbed back down the ladder.

Rafter was busily beating on the young roosters again, so I took the free moment to go outside and pick up a Vari-Kennel dog crate and haul it inside the barn. I put down a layer of shavings. I raked up some loose straw. I hauled it up to the loft. By the time I had finished that process, she had abandoned her favorite hobby of violence in order to return to her nest. In the dark, she did not notice that the eggs were on the bale beside her nest, and not actually in their previous position. She was settled down into her nest next to the eggs when I got the Vari-Kennel up there. I carefully transferred the eggs into the crate, and set food and water at the front. I turned to snatch Rafter.

She took flight. Straight down from the loft, over the dutch door, and into the run-in stall. I sighed. There was nothing to do but wait. I settled down on a bale of hay and watched. Or rather, I listened. She clucked. She squawked. She screeched. She ranted. If it could be said that chickens could swear, then she was swearing worse than a sailor who has spent ten years at sea, and another in the brig, just for good measure. Willow walked into the stall and pinned her ears. I heard Rafter vacate her haunt for the other side of the stall, her swearing now directed at the horse that hates poultry. Then the swearing stopped. I slid down in front of the bale, to alleviate at least some of the sillhouette that would be visible from the stall door.

After a few more moments of silence, she flew up and onto the dutch door. She preened for a few moments, and stalked across the wood. She eyed the chain link fencing that surrounds the rabbit area. She eyed the not-so-precocious young rooster that was perched atop said fencing. It was him. She hopped onto the fence. He took the discerning route and hopped off. She shuffled across the top of the fence toward the edge of the loft, occasionally scolding the young roosters below her. She left my line of sight. Then... she was there. On the edge of the hayloft. I could tell that she sensed something was off, but still she meandered across. I barely exhaled. She passed out of my peripheral vision as she hopped onto the bales.

A few moments later, I allowed my head to turn slowly. It was excellent practice for movement during hunting season, by the way, but I digress. She was settled in. But now... how to go about capturing her? She had fled twice before. She could obviously sense my presence as a shadow before her as I approached. I pondered. Ah! Huzzah, a brillig plan was in the making! I had pulled a short-sleeved tee over my long-sleeved one before coming to the barn, as I have found that layering makes sense and often lessens the need for a coat, or in this case, a sweatshirt. As carefully as is possible in a dusty hay loft, I pulled the outer tee off, and held it before me as I stood up and crept toward her location.

She still fled - but now, I had more than just my hands, and when she flew into the tee shirt and was knocked to the floor of the loft, I pounced. She screeched. She called the cavalry. She spoke of murder. She promised to take me in my sleep. I shoved her in the crate.

After I brought the dogs in from the kennel, I climbed halfway up the ladder and shone my flashlight toward the crate. She had settled on top of the eggs. All appears to be well.

The questions are numerous: What will happen to the eggs? Will anything hatch? What will these mongrel beasts look like, these spawn of a full-size rooster and a bantam psychopath? Time will tell.

chocolate peanut butter cookies

{ 08:50, 2006-Sep-12 } { Posted in homestead projects } { 0 comments } { Link }

Finally, an original recipe!

Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookies
1/2 c. granulated sugar
1/2 c. brown sugar
1/2 c. butter
1/2 c. peanut butter
1 egg
1 1/4 c. wheat flour
1/2 c. wheat germ
1/2 c. milk chocolate chips
3/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt

1. Melt the butter and chocolate chips in a mixing bowl by placing in the microwave, or in a sauce pan on the oven.
2. Mix in the sugars, peanut butter, and egg.
3. Stir in flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and wheat germ.
4. Cover and refrigerate for at least an hour.
5. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Shape dough into balls approx. 1/2 c. in size, and place on ungreased cookie sheets.
6. Bake until set but not hard (about ten minutes).

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