I'll take a case of black pins, please.

While most people bring me t-shirts from their travels (they know I never go anywhere and feel sorry for me), one of my 'bosses' thinks outside of the box.  She recently went to a conference in New Orleans and brought me this:

 I apologize for the poor quality of the photograph, as it was taken with my phone.  It is a Voodoo doll.  Complete with one White Pin (Good Wishes for friends) and one Black Pin (Evil Wishes for non-friends).  I have pinned it up (with neutral green and yellow tacks) near my computer.  I feel humbled by the power that has been handed me.  Her youngest daughter, G, who draws me pictures and entertains me no-end when she's in the office, was quite upset that her mother was giving me this powerful totem of good and evil.  I had to call her to tell her that I was okay and that I was only going to use it as a decoration.  Mwwwahahaha.

All the signs are there.

I am definitely NOT a night owl.  I am a rooster.  Well, a female rooster.  You know what I mean.  I have a list (what a surprise, right?) at which, lately, I have not been chipping away.  Last night I realized it was because I have been waiting until I am home from work to do most of the chipping-away-at.  I pull in my driveway around 6:30 every night.  After I push my way through the happy dogs, I let them out, setting off the sheep alarm.  Then back in we go; I change into barn clothes, feed the dogs, collect the (puny) eggs while checking on the poultry; then off to the goaties I go, setting off the goatie alarm.  I give them their grain ration, then grab the wagon and head for the hay. I drop hay into the goats' hay crate, then schlep the hay and grain ration to the sheep.  Toss hay onto the feeder, try to sneak in to dump their grain (never, ever get away with it), get mobbed, feed them, stagger out of the gate, check the water levels, and go back inside.  Then I take the dogs for a short walk.  Then I collapse in a heap and forget all about my list and want only a nice cuppa and a Murder She Wrote episode on my DVD player. 

Compare my morning:

Bounce-ish out of bed at 4a.  Let dogs out with "No Barking!" warning.  They ignore this and race off the deck to defend the chicken yard from whatever.  Turn lights on, turn radio on, make coffee.  Check email.  Slice zucchini and put in dehydrator.  Heat milk for yogurt.  Cut out flannel Shush Bunnies (soon to appear on my etsy site).  Let dogs in.  Write a letter.  Change into barn clothes and feed dogs and cats, and police the litter boxes.  Take dogs for long walk.  Eat breakfast.  Pack lunch.  Feed and water chickens and ducks.  Let goaties out and give morning grain and hay rations.  Hay and water sheep (notice, I do not "schlep" in the morning?  I have a spring to my step).  Back inside to set up the ironing board and iron enough clothes to tide me over the week.  Get dressed for work and out the door I go.  Drive to feed mill and pick up poultry and sheep feed.  Drive to work.

I find that I spend a lot of time in the evening thinking about the time I waste sleeping.  I need to work on that mindset if I am going to continue my mornings with a spring in my step. 

Ah, for a cat's life...

Kramer catching some zzzs.

Boy, oh, boy, do I wish I could sleep that soundly!  I am always so amazed when I watch my cats.  They can go from the complete collapse pictured above to supersonic, low-flying mode across the back of the couch in about a nanosecond.  They take leisurely baths - with particular attention to inner ears, face and top of head, thanks to a buddy.  Of course, this then usually leads to biting and rassling.  They can spot a small, loose item from six miles and pounce on it.  It is usually a heavy, LOUD object that is whapped across the wood floor in the early hours of the morning.

If you have any doubt as to whether an object is safe from cats, it is not.  They can read your mind.  They have their dog-terrorizing routine down to a hairsbreadth of getting caught by said dog.  They are the reason tear-proof screening was invented.

They are infinitely interesting and entertaining.  I want to be my cats.

A Zucchini Kind of Weekend

I fall victim to zucchini longing every single summer.  I can.not.wait for the first one.  But, there is never just ONE.  Not to mention well-intentioned neighbors who slip giant squash in my mailbox.  So, I decided to tackle some of the larger zukes this weekend.

Zucchini Boats

Stuffed with ground pork, onion, garlic and (something I have a lot of) chopped Swiss chard.  I also managed to top it with cheddar cheese, just because I could.  Delish.

Zucchini Fritters

I was inspired by Carolyn at Krazo Acres and yep - they are tasty!  I have had them for breakfast, lunch and look out dinner!

Summer Squash Casserole

This is a summer stand-by. I made this to take to my friend Els' commemorative gathering this afternoon. As it involves an entire bag of herb stuffing/dressing (depending on where y'all are from) and a stick of melted butter, how bad could it be?


Next Up

An Apple a Day...

can be bad for your health - if you're a groundhog!  All year long, it's been one thing after another with my chickens.  There was the usual winter slow down on egg production (boosted once in a while when I put a 60W bulb in the coop for heat on the coldest days); then there were the first batch of broody hens (who always -- always -- hunker down in the primo nesting boxes); then it was too hot.  Now we're back to THREE broody hens in the -- you guessed it! -- primo nesting boxes.  I've been yanking them out every morning and every afternoon, so we are about down to one and a half broody hens.  The latest wrinkle?  A young groundhog has been waddling in and eating all the chicken feed on the floor of the coop.  This has caused quite a ruckus in the coop, as the chickens are not fond of groundhog-y types of critters.  So they have been staying out of the coop.  That means they are not laying eggs, as my chickens are very regimented and only lay in the nesting boxes.

I've tried bombing what I thought was its tunnel.  Guess not, as the little bugger was back chowing down 20 minutes after bombing.  I've tried blocking off it's access under the shed, but it just dug over, under or around whatever I put in front of it.  So I baited a box trap last night with a sliced apple and, this morning as I was harvesting some of my fingerling potatoes, I heard a clink.  It was an expensive breakfast for this fella.  He was excised from the farm this morning.

I sure hope this makes a difference in egg production.  And I hope this groundhog was an only child.

Local - What does it mean, exactly?

You all know how I feel about certain terms -- "baby" vegetables come to mind.  Another bugaboo is the loosey-goosey use of "local".  As soon as one of these terms gets hot, everyone and their Uncle Vanya is using it to describe their merchandise or produce.  According to the WSJ, Wal-Mart has jumped on the local bandwagon as well.   As soon as I read that, I thought, "oh-oh, local is going the way of organic."  Wal-Mart, it seems, is embracing local food for two reasons - they save on fossil fuel costs by limiting their shipping distances, and they are opening the door of a large new market with deep pockets.  This can be both good and bad for local farmers across the country.  Slipping under the sheets with Wal-Mart can be a double-edged sword.   As far as the new "local" fanaticsm, my personal feeling is that a lot of the local food embracers fall right off the wagon as soon as they realize that "local" means they can't get blueberries in January.  But, I digress.

Also discussed in the article was what "local" means to three food retailers who are also on the "local" bandwagon:

Safeway says it doesn't consider food locally grown if it takes more than an 8 hour drive from field to store.

Kroger defines locally grown very loosely.  It can mean grown in the same state, or within the same "region" of the country.

Supervalu varies from store to store.  Some of their stores call produce that comes from neighboring states "local".

I have a much tighter vision of "local" food.  My front yard, for instance.  Or my friend Marianne's greenhouse about twenty minutes away.  Since I live in an area of New York state that butts up against both Vermont and Massachusetts, is produce from those states local?

A local farm (approx. 10 miles from me) markets its sweet corn as "native" corn.  Some people I have talked to think they grow Indian corn.  Maybe "native" vegetables will be the next hot marketing term?

What is your definition of "local" produce/food/goods?  Is local food a fad?  Or are people finally getting it?

What??? It's Monday already???

A week of vacation has come and gone and what do I have to show for it?  I don't remember.  I did get a lot done, although not enough.  But I have come to the conclusion that I will never, ever get as much done as I want to, so what the heck. 

I dug up my Yukon Golds and have two plantings of fingerlings to go.  My onions remain disappointing.  My beans are in utter chaos.  My battle against Japanese beetles continues to wage every day.  My battle against technology seems to be waged every other day.  I got my back deck cleaned off and did some sizable weeding, although that is a battle I will not win this year.  I got more hay in the barn, got to spend a lovely afternoon listening to Haydn and Mahler on the lawn at Tanglewood.  Made Chicken Ballotine which would have been amazing, had I focused enough to see that I chose one of my age-unknown freezer chickens instead of a nice, tender Red.  I now have experienced real rubber chicken!

I made some headway on my farm plan, did some major reorganizing, and picked blueberries.  I spent time with girlfriends and watched episodes of The Closer in the middle of the afternoon.  I canned.  I baked.  I made cheese, yogurt and butter.  I relaxed.

Now I am back hard at it.  But feeling better able to rassle with whatever comes my way.  Hallelujah!