Oooh, Mama!

This has got to be the Mother of ALL tomatoes!  Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!!  Almost all of the tomatoes from my lone Old German plant were this size or a tad smaller.  And were they good!  This is a must-grow for next year.  (Are you listening/reading, Marianne....?)

Old German heritage tomato.

And speaking of mothers, mine gave me quite a start yesterday.  I was sitting in my office, minding my own beeswax, when the main line rang.  Since the receptionist was out to lunch, I cover the phones.  I glanced at the Caller I.D. when I picked up the handset and wondered who would be calling from Vermont.  It was my mother!!!  Some background here - my mother never, NEVER calls us.  We call her.  She will want to hear from us but, instead of picking up the phone and calling, she stares at her phone and wills us to call.  And, since we have been trained from birth, we do her bidding.  Having her call me and call me at work made my heart lurch.  Turns out, she wanted to make sure it was okay that her doctor's appointment (to which I was acting as chauffeur) was on a Monday.  This is one of the appointments that is out of town for them, so I take the day off and drive them to and from the appointment.  My father is not allowed to drive out of town under threat of bodily harm.  Once I recovered from the shock that she called me at work, I assured her that it was fine and hung up.  I am glad to know that my blood pressure, heart rate and emotional resilience are flexible and intact.

Timing.

With the onset of Fall, our daylight hours are shrinking fast.  I swear the days get shorter faster than they get longer.  Cripe.  Did that make any sense?  It's sort of like weekend time - it goes faster than weekday time.  Really.  I timed it.

Rising to the top of my list is setting up the timers.  I have a complicated system of timers on all my various light sources.  While I did invest in new solar walkway lights for the path from driveway to front deck, it's still pretty dark out here in the boondocks.  Phase One of the timer set-up is the goat barn.  This is very helpful in many ways - the goaties are happier when there is light in their barn at night and I am happy because I can close them in when I feed them and they are content to munch away.  That also saves me another trip out in the dark.   Where I sometimes meet creepies - like the opossum I almost tripped over a couple of nights ago.  We both shrieked.  Setting up this particular timer system is rather complicated.  It involves 2 and 3 prong plugs, multiple extension cords, and balancing the whole contraption up out of the reach of the ever-inquisitive goaties. 

Phase Two is setting up a light to come on in the living room so that the dogs aren't in the dark (which seems to be more of a worry for me than them), and allows a little more light to emanate out of the windows onto the front deck.

Phase Three are the festive and holiday-themed outdoor strings of lights.  My October string is orange and it's wrapped around the front deck.  That gives way to the red/white/green lights that adorn the front deck and along the fence line behind the driveway.  About mid-December, it is downright cozy out there. 

Phase Four - the final phase - is for the darkest nights and the longest part of winter.  Mid/late January to early March.  This is when I take pity on the chickens and put a light in their coop.  It has nothing to do with the fact that I am desperate for eggs about then.  Nothing at all.

How do you handle the short dark days?  I am always looking for inspiration.

Small celebrations.

Would they be celebration-ettes?

The Guineas, unbidden, trotted right into the chicken coop Tuesday night and took up residence.  I don't believe I can count on this reasonable behavior, but it was perfect timing as we got rain overnight and that morning.  I slept soundly.

Day Number Nine - the last of Flora's penicillin shots.  We are both happy about that.

Gentle rain instead of thunderstorm - Bernie's had her fill.  She slept soundly, too.

Farmsitter seems to be solid!  Vacation coming up!

Cookin'!

You can sure tell when Summer has transitioned into Fall - I am in the kitchen and happy about it!  This past summer had me avoiding it like the plague.  Thank goodness, there were no two-legged dependents relying on three meals coming out of that particular space in my house.  The only thing I was capable of in 90+ degree days with 150% humidity, was slinging some kibble in a bowl with a splash of heavy cream.  Heavy cream, you say?  Don't ask.

But now -- I was cookin' up a storm this past weekend:  deviled eggs and plum crumble (GF) to go with  fried chicken and the delicious (quinoa) pasta salad my sister made for our mother's surprise birthday picnic; then peach crumble made from the same recipe - not quite as good, but I ran out of plums; my new favorite soup, recipe borrowed from Kim's stellar weekly menu - always a source of inspiration, then a turkey meatloaf stuffed with spinach, accompanied by garlic smashed potatoes for Kay and Nick (rather bland - I forgot the cheese in the stuffing! - but they were kind and et it anyway), and, finally, some of Marianne's amazing pork chops, marinated in soy (Bragg's) and lemon and garlic (see recipe here).  I also squeezed in a round of cheesemaking and have a nice, fresh pound of mozzarella in the fridge. 

My second planting of lettuce - although spotty on the germination front - has yielded enough leafy greens to get me through a couple of weeks.  I'm glad I have the cold frame, as Tuesday morning's temperature (at 4:30) was 32 degrees!  I am going to try to plant some spinach in the 'bald spots' to see if I can keep this up throughout most of the Fall and Winter. 

Speaking of the garden, it is a sorry sight, indeed.  I have prepped two beds for the spring - one will be planted in garlic this fall.  I have to pull out the tomato plants - which are still loaded with tomatoes, but I am so beyond caring - and I am still hopeful that I may get two whole pumpkins and four whole winter squash out of my half acre (not nearly, but still...) of plants that got zapped by powdery mildew.  I will give them a couple more weeks, and then out they go.  I've got my seed garlic ready and will put it in Columbus Day weekend.  I still have to harvest and dry herbs, and transplant my rosemary plant to a pot for safekeeping over winter, and cut down the strawberries to be ready for their nice straw blankie.  The leaves are turning and it's time to tuck things in for the year.

A Spontaneous Day....

Off.  There is nothing like a spontaneous day off - for whatever the reason.  For me, it was a cool, cool night, followed by that brilliant blue sky that is typical here when seasons start to shift.  I call it Maxfield Parrish Blue.  The day started out like any other - then I just got a bee in my bonnet and decided that I needed a mental health day.

The best thing about a SDO is that you don't have plans for it.  It just unfolds in front of you.  Sort of.  While I can be spontaneous, there is, after all, The List.  So I got to tick off a couple things from the list, which was very satisfying.  And I had some one-on-one time with the dogs, goats and sheep (not at the same time, of course.  That would NOT have been relaxing.)  Cats choose their own one-on-one time.  Usually, when it is not convenient for you.  But one does not rule cats.  Cats rule everything.

I spent a little time in the kitchen...


I turned these.....



into these.

 I spent a little time doing something creative....

It was time to lose the silk forsythias.

I spent some time on the Ratz War....

The Pearlies show off the new metal-clad entrance
to the chicken coop.



The Ratz had gnawed through half of a 2x4 to
gain access to the coop.  The bottom section will have
to be replaced, but it should throw them off until I
have the time and materials.

 I did some gardening-type stuff...

Hog Panel = Grape Trellis

It was, all in all, a glorious SDO.

Monday Musings.

It always amazes me - the number of emotions evoked by my drive to work every morning.  One would think that, given the fact that I usually have no distractions (no radio, no music, no phone to ear, and no texting), I would just sail along from Point A to Point B, enjoying the view.  But, no.

I do enjoy the landscape on my mountain road - the Swamp Maples are already turning brilliant red and their reflection in the many small lakes and ponds up there is really just breath-taking.  Then I come around a bend and find myself faced with Men At Work signs.  This particular town is hell-bent on cutting down every other tree, in the way or not.  What really set me off was that they were cutting down apple trees!  There were apples all over the road - WASTE, dagnabit, WASTE. 

Then I find myself behind a large pickup.  The driver must have had a very bad experience with the left side of the road, since he spent the next six miles on the wrong side of the double yellow lines.  It didn't seem to bother him in the least bit - but my hair was on end the entire trip - this is a very winding road, with no way of knowing if there is someone else coming toward you around the bends.  I assumed he was either very challenged; had started his morning with a few cups of Irish coffee; or was functioning on short bursts of awareness (the rest of the time being focused on some hand-held device).  It was nerve-wracking.

THEN, I came across a nice, neat pile of trash waiting to be picked up.  Two giant-sized disposable diaper boxes, crammed full of garbage.  Well, let me tell you, if you want to set me off, bring up the subject of disposable diapers.  And there they sat.  The ONLY part of the product that was recyclable (the box) was being used to toss the despicable end product.  Let me tell you, the only thing worse for mankind than the invention of the disposable diaper was the invention of Styrofoam.  Why this country allows mega companies to manufacture and reap the financial bounty of a product that is heaved in stinking piles on Mt. Everest-sized landfills, instead of insisting they recycle them, is just beyond belief.

I was completely exhausted by the time I finally reached the office.  Now I can rest....

A list is like an onion.

I am going to get all Zen about lists.  Hold onto your hats.

I have come to the conclusion that there is no such thing anymore as a simple list.  You know the kind - you put down five items and then you neatly check them off as you progress through your day.  My lists are an enigma to me.  They start out straightforward enough - Call Mom; Feed chickens/Guineas; Dry Plums; Repair coop stoop with metal.  But what actually happens is this:  I call my mother; I go to feed the chickens and find two more holes so I curse all rodents, grab the rake (which is so conveniently stored in the barn - a quarter mile away), then rake a big pile of rocks around the foundation of the coop and stomp on them.  And go back into the house.  Where I find I have not fed either the chickens or Guineas.  So I go back out and feed them.   Hmmm.  Did you see that furtive little non-list item sneak in there? 

I come home from work, after stopping to pick up a tarp.  We have a nasty little storm predicted for the next day and the Guineas, God bless them, will not WILL NOT, roost inside the coop.  I have managed to put backing behind their outdoor roost (not on the list), but they are still exposed above.  So I put up the tarp (after luring them into the enclosure so they won't freak out outside) then I tie it down to within an inch of it's life.  It is now dark, and I cannot affix metal to the coop stoop - because I can't see it.  Another layer has crept in.

On the weekend's list was to cut boards and finish at least two sides of the run-in shed and paint them.  I know, I know, but a girl can dream.  I go out and measure the back, which is only missing one-and-a-half boards at the top, go cut them, struggle with the wet, raw board, get it clamped up and mostly screwed on and....hear a sound much like a steam engine.  It's Flora.  Her chin area, down to her neck is swollen solid and she is rattling away.  Tools down, ladder down, trot them inside and come back to check her out.  Place a call to my animal specialist - Kay - and we decide to dose her with penicillin.  It sounds like a fluid-build-up kind of thing and not (necessarily) a parasite problem.  We compare Use By dates, get the syringes counted out for a 9-day course, rassle the old girl, and it's too late to continue with the shed project.  Yet another layer.

I am not sure if being a homesteader means you are incredibly stubborn, in total denial, as flexible as a Slinky, or all of the above, but it does mean that your lists are like onions, with many, many layers, one interchangeable with the other.