At last!

My babies are growing up...literally. That tub of spinach beside my back door has now reached the glorious stage of EAT ME!!!!

Tender little leaves, 2-3 inches long, crisply juicy, green and healthy.

Now I nab a few leaves every time I pass, which is several times a day as I head for the garden. Most I just munch on the spot or as a mobile snack.

Just as many make it into the kitchen, where they become a colorful part of snacks and meals. Here is lunch a few days ago: a crisp Wasa cracker packed with whole grains, topped with warm freshly made goat milk ricotta, sided by baby spinach, red peppers and a few cucumber slices. A spritz of honey dijon dressing was the final touch.

Life is good - especially with fresh garden treats on my "health watch"!

The Digginest Dog

"Boy oh boy oh boy, this is a hot one! I'm gonna get this one, yessiree!"
"Happy is diggin'!"

"Dere he goes, lookit dat dirt fly!"

"Man, dis is gonna take fo-evah..."

"Stand back, kid, this is gettin' serious..."

"ALRIGHTY NOW, dat's mo like it! Go, Happy, go!"

"I'm gonna see if it's deeper on da udder side..."

No, Max, no! Don't go...

...behind him. You'll get...

...buried in flying dirt. Uh. Too late.

"That kid has no patience! Ya gotta have STAMINA for this business!"

"Gramma, my boots got filled with DIRT!"

"PATIENCE! TENACITY! TECHNIQUE! This is only a job for a REAL dog!

"PATIENCE! TENACI... oh, I already said that. Well, the proof is in the hole..."

"Hey, gramma, lookit Happy! He's headed foh China!"

"Happy, c'mon. How LONG is dis gonna TAKE? "

"As long as it takes, kid, as long as it takes. Ya don't measure a dog by how LONG it takes, it's how DEEP ya go that counts!"

"Well, how 'bout if I help ya? I can do dat, I can. MOVE OVAH, Happy. Hey! MOVE IT!"

"I AM movin' it! Take a look at that dirt, that stuff's MOVIN'!!!!"

"Hey, gramma, look what we did!"

"Whaddaya mean, WE?? "

"Do ya see it yet? It's there, I know it's there..."

"Gramma, tell Mom I'm in da hole!"

(which was a good idea, since mom was getting ready to drive the 'Burb right over the top of where he was...and there was no way she would spot that noggin from the driver's seat...)

When Happy finally extracted the critter, it was from the "backdoor"...which involved digging ANOTHER hole, about 10 feet from the first one.

Tenacious. Ya.

Than fetched the gun to make sure the little critter wasn't tortured to death by Happy slobbers. By the time he got there, it was too late. There was no mourning. We would like to see a total absence of those pesky Confederate Ground Squirrels - they make holes, they eat the garden, they cause normal (?) dogs to lose all perspective and reason. Along with any confederates who happen to be in the game.

"Told ya, told ya! I KNEW it was there!"

Good dog, Happy.

Magic

Chemistry was one of my favorite classes in high school. A quirky teacher helped for pure enterainment value (Jens Robinson, I will never forget you!) but playing and experimenting with raw materials was definately a magnet. Now that I'm all grown up (almost), I still crave the challenge of seek-and-discovery and relish the results of research and effort. Enter CHEESEMAKING!

"A cheese may disappoint.
It may be dull, it may be naive,
it may be over-sophisticated.
Yet it remains cheese, milk's
leap toward immortality." -Clifton Faidiman

Now that I have quarts, often gallons, of goat milk in the fridge as raw material for experimentation, my long-time interest in cheese making has returned with a vengence. With a number of books from my personal "homesteading" collection, more from the library, magazine articles, and online sources, I have all the recipes, tips, how-to videos, and information at my fingertips to pursue the process of turning fresh creamy milk into tastebud delights of various textures and flavors.

The alchemy of cheesemaking isn't complicated. The ingredients involved are readily available, even if you don't have a backyard goat or cow. Dry milk and store-bought cream can yield wonderful results. The challenge for me lies in using what I have or can re-purpose into equipment and supplies - like putting together a puzzle, with similar satisfaction when all the pieces finally come together.

Even while enjoying some of the results of my playtime I find myself continuing the search for just the right recipes that suit my taste, equipment, and time. The tang of fresh feta with my breakfast keeps me focused on the search for an even better result. (This is my current favorite breakfast - lightly steamed asparagus fresh from the asparagus patch, eggs fresh from the nest of Collin's Banty hens, and creamy salt-tanged feta I made a few weeks ago - it's almost gone, so time to get another batch brining!)

The process of first milking the obliging friendly neighbor goats, which I enjoy tremendously, then quickly chilling the quarts of creamy goodness to ensure the sweet clean flavor (no, it is NOT "goaty" tasting!), and finally working with that milk to make a totally different product, is very soul-satisfying. The curds in this bowl are now being pressed in the fridge, to form a block of feta cheese which in another 12 hours will then be cut into large cubes and brined for a few days to a week to develop that distinctive feta flavor.
There is magic in that process, of taking a liquid produced by well-cared-for animal friends and turning it into life-enhancing foods that are pure and clean. Definately a novelty, in the current world of fast food, chain markets of shipped foods (if you can call those chemical laden over-processed nutritionally dead packages and cans,"food") and factory-farmed animals.

I much prefer the ambiance of the barn, the maaaing and baaaaing of the goats and sheep as they greet me when I go to milk. I prefer the partnership of healthy animals and friendly neighbors. And I definately prefer those fresh tasty cheeses that I have made myself! They may not have the polish of cheeses produced by the factories - I definately fall into the "rustic" class, with aspirations to becoming "artisan" class - but by gum they are mine, start to finish and I know for sure what's in them!

Yep, it's magic. Magic that feeds my spirit as well as my body.

Cajeta

With spring comes plentiful milk, fresh from the source. I'm priviledged to have a generous neighbor who is sharing her two milking does (goats, not deer) with me - which means she milks in the morning (for which I'm eternallly grateful, I am SO not a morning person!)and I milk around 7 in the evenings. I get half the milk from each milking, which is usually about 1/2 gal. each day. So every other day or so, I'm making cheeses, or other dairy products such as yogurt.

Making cheese is a long-time yearning. We had milk goats while our kids were youngsters (no pun intended), and I frequently made cottage cheese and yogurt. Now I'm expanding my experiments to more exotic cheeses, and as soon as I can construct a press I'll attempt some hard aged cheeses. For now, I'm enjoying the soft cheeses and other goodies.

Such as this:

Made by a simple process of cooking goat milk, sugar, some corn starch and a pinch of baking soda until it is thick and caramel colored, CAJETA is a Mexican recipe that I found in one of my cheese-making books. Caramel is a family favorite flavor, so of course I had to try this!

It could have cooked a bit longer to be a darker caramel color, but it was nice and thick, just right for topping icecream or cake. Once it was cooled in jars, it was even thicker...
which makes it just right for...
"eating off the spoon"! Yep, I did it. I confess. I dare you to fill a spoon with luscious creamy gooey caramel and then put it back in the jar - HA! I knew you couldn't do it.
All you need to have your own jars of cajeta lounging in your fridge is a goat, some sugar, and TWO HOURS of patience while you stir the cooking mass of calories!

More glitches

Just a quick note: we are still trying to get my computer/laptop back online. The receiver was replaced, we have signal, but the router was fried. So that was replaced, and the system still is unhappy. So according to the the techies, the "card" in the computer is probably fried, too. So that is in the works to be replaced.
Following which, I will hopefully be back to posting. The backlog in photos is getting scary.


Stay tuned.

The winnah!

NOTE: Apologies for the previous blank post. A glitch in the operating system. There really is a winner, yes indeedy. Unfortunately, my laptop is only usable if I take it to Carrie's (which is how I'm getting this done) because the receiver box at the cabin was fried. Ouch. Tomorrow our carrier should make all well, and I'll be back on line in a more orderly fashion. Meanwhile, I'm going to TRY to finish this post.)

Ahem. The winner is (drumroll): Linda! Good diagnosis on the belly button. And thanks to Marilyn for the "creative" guesses! In reward for the effort, I'll be sending a package of flower seeds to all two entants!

Max plus washable "tatoos" are a dangerous combination. Carrie was in stitches when he told her he wanted to put them "where your bra goes, mom", and of course being the good mommy-of-five boypunks, she said OK.

The first thing he wanted to show me when he came through the cabin door. A Kodak moment, for sure...

Ah. The infamous "flower"...

Kinda gives "pasties" a whole new twist, eh?

Between turkey poults and Max, it's a laugh a day around here!

(Now if I'm holding my tongue right, with my toes crossed, and the stars align, you WILL receive this...)

zzzzzzaaappp

It wasn't because I don't love you. I do.
It wasn't because I had nothing to say. I do.
It wasn't because I had no current photos. I do.

It was a matter of "circumstances beyond my control." Due to "An Act of God," I was unable to post the past two days.
I present my evidence:

You are looking at the results of a lightening strike Thursday night.

We knew a storm was blowing in from the west, it was reported to be pretty strong. Ya , ya , ya, we've heard that before. Sometimes they are, more often not. This report was spot-on. And we were the SPOT.

I've been through a lot of thunder and lightening since moving to Wisconsin, it rarely bothers me now. I sometimes even sit by the window and watch it. Spectacular, for sure. This time, as the rumblies began, I was listening to TV while do some research on my laptop. After about 10 minutes, I could tell things were revving up out there, the wind was fierce, the rain drops were huge and really making a racket against the log walls. The sky was lit continuously. The thunder was no longing rumbling, it was cracking like a whip. I closed down the laptop, then thought, I should really unplug it. Which I did.

Within five seconds, a tremendously loud crack and massive power surge tripped the lights and all the GFI switches in the cabin. The TV sounded like it blew up. I could smell the strike, and knew it was close, maybe even the receiver on the roof. Which is metal.... As the lights flickered back on and off before settling for on, I grabbed a flashlight, called Carrie, wondered how I was going to keep the poults warm, hoped this was going to move on quickly as they usually do (although some of the "doozies" will last for hours - ya. Fun.). I really didn't want Carrie to drive over in the storm, but she could tell I was really rattled, and shortly showed up on my porch with Than. Brent was out of town...how is it, guys miss all the fun stuff?? We got a few things running, although the back porch power was gone so we had to run an extension cord to keep the turks warm. Thankfully, the little boys were home asleep, with Collin on watch, phone and flashlight in hand.

In about another 20 minutes, the storm was moving out over the lake, and we were done for the night. Carrie went home, I went to bed. It was a relief to just go to sleep and block it all out.

The next day, after running an errand to the farm, as I drove back in the driveway with the punks, we saw a chunk of limb on the ground. One of them commented that it looked like a limb got blown off during the storm. As I glanced over, I did a double-take, put on the brakes and said, "Yeah, it got BLOWN OFF, all right!"

The tree has a vertical crack in it now, besides missing some "skin". The bark isn't a big deal, the tree will probably grow more over time. But we're a little concerned about the health of this tree now. It is a really old blue spruce.

And, it is close to the cabin. As you look at this photo, it's the big tree on the left. REALLY close.

The immediate area around Tisch Mills, a mile away, is considered a high strike area - we have the blackened lightening rod balls off the top of the old barn to prove the point.

This was our first storm of the season - which goes pretty much into the middle of July.

What's that old saying about lightening striking twice??

Name That Flower contest

I found this rare flower outside my backdoor.



A packet of flower seeds to the first person to correctly identify it.

Little Einsteins

A new era has begun on the farm. We now have TURKEYS.

Collin has done such a good job marketing his wonderful "Collin's Cluckers" eggs, that when some of his customers heard we were considering raising a few turkeys they quickly put their name down to buy a finished bird this fall. They are on the growing list of families who appreciate how our livestock is raised and handled.

A few turkeys for our own holidays and for the freezer turned into ten. They arrived this afternoon.

After dipping each individual beak in the water, then the feed, I put them under the heat lamp where they all collasped from exhaustion. Hatching is an arduous business, and these babies were barely out of the shell when they were put in boxes and mailed. Probably less than 12 hours old. They still have their "egg beaks".

No, the one at the top is NOT dead, although he scared me for a second. Within a few minutes of this photo, they ALL looked like that. A fuzzy carpet of flat birds. Yep, all worn out from their first big adventure -

The turkeys were shipped in a box along with some other chicks we had ordered. When Carrie opened the box to unload the turkeys here at the cabin before taking the chicks home to the brooders set up at the farm, she looked them over and said, "I'm assuming these are the turkeys." They looked just like the chicks. Almost. The wart on the forehead was a clue. When we counted out 10 warts into the box-brooder, we both agreed, they were the turkeys. We had ordered ten, and there they were!

The second thing I noticed as I handed them into the brooder box, was the size of those FEET. I know turkeys are larger than chickens, and I guess it starts from the ground up!


The temperature recommended for turkey poults (babies) is 95 degrees, then you start lowering it over about two weeks until you get to 70. It takes some fiddling with the heat lamp, a rope, and a thermometer, to hit the right temp. Of course, once you have it perfect, the ambient room temp (my back porch) drops because it is still close to freezing here at night, so then the brooder temp drops. I can see I'm going to be doing middle-of-the-night every-two-hours baby checks, for tonight at least. Thought I was done with that when MY babies were a couple of weeks old...I'm getting too old for that nonsense.

As I was studying up on raising turkeys, one of the comments I ran across tickled my funny bone. This fellow is an experienced poultry farmer, raising all sorts of birds. He maintains that turkeys have gotten a bad rap about not being the brightest bulbs in the chandelier, that compared to Cornish Rock cross (fryers), turkeys are Einsteins.

I made the brooder out of a Dell computer box - I want them to have every opportunity to increase their intelligence.

"Whachu lookin' at? I'm an EINSTEIN!!"

I think we'll call him Albert.

More punks...

Jayden and Max - one of their finest moments.

I have NO idea what triggered this...

It would be scary if it weren't so hilarious!

Adieu

It's a hard decision. Quality of life for our pets and other animals is a priority for us. After many weeks of pondering, Carrie and I made the choice to seek another home for our big guy.
He is so people oriented, and we are so busy, we didn't feel he was getting the opportunity to enjoy his potential as a wonderful companion. After several interviews, and a home visit, a young lady was thrilled to present Briston (the dog formerly known as Bristol) to her mom as a Mother's Day gift.
Before you gasp "HOW could she do that to her mom??!!", let me set your mind at ease. Her mom and dad have had two Saints - one lived to be 13, one made it to twelve in spite of being blind in one eye, deaf, and medicated daily all his life. A Saint's average age is 8-10 years, like most of the large breeds. These are dedicated St. Bernard people! And the first one was a wedding gift to the mom, from her new hubby. You can gasp again - I did.
So on Mother's Day afternoon, Carrie and I loaded up the dishes, the bed, the leash, the treats, a sack of food - and the big guy, who obviously knew something was up. They always seem to know, don't they?
The mom got a picture of Briston in her Mother's Day card, with the message he would soon be arriving in person. We were waiting during the whole one hour drive for the phone to ring, that mom had said "ARE YOU NUTS???!!!". But we made it all the way to the driveway, no call.
Long story short, Briston is staying with them for a couple of weeks, to see if it's a good fit. If not, he'll come back to us.
We were very pleased with the situation we left him in. They are wonderful folks, they know what they are doing when it comes to having a critter this size.

And get this: Briston is a peanut compared to their previous Saints. Patches, the wedding gift, weighed in at 150 pounds. Jake, who died two years ago, was 170 pounds.

Briston is only 139 pounds. Yep, just a pygmy Saint Bernard. But a wonderful guy, packed with love in every one of those pounds.

New livestock on the farm...

If you haven't checked Carrie's blog lately, click here http://oneblessedwoman.blogspot.com/
to get a look at her new project: BEES!
A series of photos show her putting together her hives, and putting in the bees.

If you get hives (heh heh) looking at pictures of hundreds of bees, do NOT click on the link!

Bird watching...

This is an exciting time of year for birdwatchers, as the warblers make their way through to their more northern nesting areas and the "snow birds" return home for the summer season.

The first Rose Breasted Grosbeak of the year for the "cabin list" showed up this afternoon - sitting on a branch, peeking in the window as if to say, "Hello, I'm BACK!! And by the way, where's my sunflower seeds, this feeder is like Mother Hubbard's cupboard." I immediately dropped what I was doing (getting a cake in the oven)and filled the feeders - we're all about hospitality here, ya know!

Lee (he's my most avid apprentice bird watcher) ran in the back door later this afternoon, proclaiming the first hummingbird had come by, checking out the feeder sites. The hummer feeders aren't out yet, I'm ashamed to say. Of course I had to drop what I was doing (taking the cake OUT of the oven) and make syrup...hospitality is a demanding thing at times.

The bluebirds have staked out their nest boxes, I think they beat the Tree Swallows to them this year. Swallows are all over the place, it is feeling more like summer every day!

About a week ago I was summoned by Max to check out a big white bird, waaaaaay up in the spruce tree.

This was a real loud-mouth bird. Taunting Max from his perch.

And a show-off, too! Fit right in with the Bluejays, Cardinals and Grackles.

Then there was THIS bird, hanging out in the Bee Tree.

You have to keep your eyes open around here, you just never know when you are going to spot a unique colorful bird hanging around in the trees. I think this one was is called a Punkbird....