tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12204801319154496532024-03-12T19:06:54.234-04:00Lightning Jar FarmSewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-53248231871196158792015-12-22T16:11:00.000-05:002015-12-22T16:11:03.006-05:00Snowy Woods<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<u></u>Today is Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. We climb out of darkness tonight, and enter the deeper part of winter. I love the concept of <a href="http://hygge.co/definition-of-hygge/" target="">hygge</a> and what we can do to push sadness away in the darkness of winter.<br />
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The piece above is my own student artist study of a piece that appeared in Yankee Magazine sometime in the 1980's. I've always been fond of the New England farm scape in winter. <br />
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Big house-little house-back house-barn. <br />
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A clean dairy barn is a warm, sweet smelling and comfy place in the dark of winter. Cow-heated cozy.<br />
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Hope your woodpile is ready.<br />
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Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-26433153298358642712015-12-16T07:37:00.001-05:002015-12-16T07:37:37.068-05:00Winter Solstice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Fall passes before our eyes. Winter Solstice approaches and the cold weather is nearly upon us.Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-2233961630690981312015-12-12T04:41:00.003-05:002015-12-12T04:41:40.355-05:00Social Media - That Icky Feeling<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
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I have shut down my Facebook profile. No, I didn't delete I just ghosted out. A couple of "bye" notes to some of the people I enjoyed interacting with and just left. I have reached my psychological limit of unfettered hate, uncensored verbal diarrhea</div>
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and unchecked privileged rhetoric and racism. <span style="background-color: yellow;">Enough!</span></div>
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It is really something, that we can experience such anger on social media. There are a few articles from psychologists about this issue. The article I read in <a href="http://www.scientificamerican.com/article/why-is-everyone-on-the-internet-so-angry/" target="_blank">Scientific American</a> is a quick treatment of the topic.</div>
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I really feel like it is breaking our society somehow, or creating a parallel universe where there are another set of social rules entirely. It has become un-fun (grammar trolls jump in).</div>
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Some observations; trolls or FB angries are super competitive- they want to win the exchange, and it is no holds barred. There is nothing off limits, insults, name calling, threats, all possible and on the buffet of choices.</div>
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You can pick your friends or you can pick your nose; If I ever go back, I would cut down my friends list, not to those whom agree with me politically or socially necessarily, but to a list of those whom are willing to engage in discussions with the same rules I have set for my self. Not that my rules are better, but it is my basis for interaction and emotional comfort. You have a basis too, use it. Just like you walk away from the woman ranting at the checkout lady, or the street preacher telling you that you are going to hell, or the drunk in the bar that asks for your phone number after falling on you. Just walk away, digitally.</div>
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No one ever changed political ideology because of what another person posted on Facebook; you become more of what you already are, and follow the path of the tendencies that you already present. Sorry to say, but insulting someone makes them grip stronger onto the belief they already had, it will NEVER make them immediately switch sides and agree with you, NEVER. Works that way face to face as well, which is refreshing, at least one crossing point of virtual and physical society. It takes quite the awakening personally to completely switch ideologies. Not sure that Facebook is the medium for that.</div>
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No one ever became a vegan/meat eater because of what another person posted on Facebook; see above, give it up. Please.</div>
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When someone in a crowd is ranting, people make faces and cross their arms; digitally, it is impossible to see these social cues that keep a lot of people in check. Even in one-to-one discussions we are continuously gauging the response of the other person, looking at expressions and body language. There may be dozens or hundreds of people sitting behind their screens and keyboards, scowling and crossing their arms because of the comments of a troll. There is no emojii for that. So these silent hundreds that in personal interactions, could visually communicate their disdain of the rant, perhaps have made a choice to not jump in. In addition, the troll or ranter knows they are untouchable, there is no recourse for their statements. The people they attack, they will never see in person, their boss will never know how rude they've been (usually), and there is no emotional debt that must be paid for even the most evil statements to someone. The troll or ranter is unknowingly benefiting from "silence implies consent". He/she believes fully that they are winning. Meanwhile, dozens of people are saying "ugh". There is absolutely no social pressure, nor social cost for the troll online. In person there is a high social cost to behave this way, even to strangers. Must.have.the.last.word.</div>
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No doubt it has been fun too. I have met a great deal of really wonderful people, and learned a lot. I was able to catch up with some high school people I knew, and could see their families now. Pretty good stuff, but not sure it was worth the experience.</div>
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Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-38096788283830993232014-08-27T15:00:00.000-04:002014-08-27T15:00:01.731-04:00All a part of the master plan<br />
My master plan is to shovel as little manure as possible. For any stock that I keep. Pastured poultry is not so simple as one would think. We tried many iterations to get to this design (over 3 years), and even in the future it may be modified, most likely to become lighter weight, although blow over would be a risk in storms. I would also like to start saving the water that collects from the tarps, but haven't decided on a good serviceable system yet.<div>
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The idea is to have fresh grass forage for the egg hens daily. They really can pick an area down in a short amount of time, so we move the hoopies daily. The hens get very excited as the hoopie moves over the new grass. This makes the move easier, as they are always eager to get onto the new hay and have no trouble staying out of the runners and out of danger as the cage is moving.</div>
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Each cage is 8x16 and the tarps roll up to allow as much or as little sun and air into the structure as is needed for keeping things cool or warm. There is no bottom on these houses, so all manure falls directly on the hay field and fertilizes the grass.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So far we have seen 70 MPH straight line winds, and the hoopies have not tipped or collapsed. They are quite heavy as the bases are made of 2x10 lumber. The ends are built from 2x4 lumber with braces and a door all screened in with chicken wire, while 4 pieces of 20 ft cattle panel make up the hoop structure. Chicken wire covers the cattle panel to prevent escapes. We have also found that investing in AG grade tarps with a 4 year life time seems to work the best. They are UV stable. Hardware store tarps are a waste of money and only last about 6 months in the element.<br />
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Roosts are high in the rear of the structure to keep the chickens from roosting in and soiling the nest boxes. I prefer to have the cleanest eggs possible. The nest boxes are approximately knee high inside, and there are 4 boxes for 16 hens.<br />
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We use a log chain and the truck or tractor to drag the units around the farm one length at a time. One time per day preferably. I can envision the possibility of someone wanting to use draft animals to move them.<br />
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The hoop house helps lower feed bills, and the chickens have great access to bugs and worms and plant material. The egg yolks are a deep orange. I have to say that the grass in wake of the hoopies is absolutely the most astonishing deep green. Great fertilizer for the hay field.<br />
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Why pen the chickens up? Several reasons. The electro-net we tried (and invested in heavily) didn't really work. The chickens' feathers insulated them from shock. Also, since I have lighter breeds they are excellent fliers. Not conducive to electro-net success when the birds just sail right over. So the chickens were on the picnic table, in the garden, wandering across the road and laying eggs all over the farm in mysterious places. Sorry to confine you girls, but it is for your own good. Since building these, the losses of stock have been minimal, they have adequate shade in the summer and nice warm protection in the winter. So far has been an excellent system for us. We are zone 7 so heavy snow is not an issue, nor is prolonged deep freeze.<br />
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Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-62018627840374581002014-08-27T06:00:00.000-04:002014-08-27T06:00:01.384-04:00White rabbits, green grassWe have been raising rabbits for nearly a year now at LJF. We raise them for meat, and we also save and preserve the pelts. I had a quite large rabbitry about 10 years ago, but disbanded the effort to raise children.<br />
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We are currently raising mostly Californian rabbits. They produce a good size yield in the carcass and are easy keepers so far. Originally we were keeping them in elevated hutches and feeding dry hay and alfalfa pellets. We have since started migrating them to grass. I have been watching carefully for signs of scours, and so far have not seen issues moving from dry feed to the fresh grass. I have noticed that the animals require less drinking water due to the water content of the feed. This just makes it a bit easier in the summer when the water needs of the livestock are super high.<br />
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I have seen a lot of rabbit tractors on blogs and websites, and many of them are quite elaborate in an effort to keep the rabbits from tunneling out of the bottom of the tractor. I thought I'd keep it simple. I am trying an old dog crate I had for large dogs. The bottom wire is welded in 1x3 rectangles, and the sides are the same. No open bottom and fancy wire barriers to keep the rabbits enclosed. For the most part they can reach the grass easily. They will also scratch the grass out from under the wire for easy eating. I have to say it is working great so far.<br />
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The only modification I am considering is taking one of the rabbits out so they get more of a share of grass by the time they are ready to move. The next plan is to build some drop cages that are not so tall to continue to add the rabbits to the pasture. I will use the same size welded wire screen. The livestock guardian dogs on site keep the predators away. The animals' body condition seems to be doing great as well. Really nice development and not overly lean at all.<br />
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In the typical pastured livestock scenario, the manure falls to the ground to just become fertilizer for the sward. Nutrient recycling and part of my master plan to never, ever have to muck anything out.<br />
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Check out the grid pattern of daily cage movements where the rabbits have eaten the grass down. The old spot gets time to recover and regrow as the rain soaks the rabbit manure and urine back into the soil as nutrients. Fresh grass every day. You can see 7 days back in the top right corner, just half of the grid is visible, the grass is already coming back.<br />
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More refinements to come, and I am also supplementing with comfrey leaves (10,000 lb yield per acre!! according to the old farm bulletin literature- another story for another day). The leaves are eaten like a treat, and last only minutes once they are put in the cage.<br />
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<br />Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-6321572532936830392014-08-26T22:30:00.000-04:002014-08-26T22:50:49.898-04:00Only You.We have chicken TV at the Jar. Yes, you can sit and watch these doodlers all day if you like. Pull up a chair, get a cold drink and watch the happenings. We have drama, romance, intrigue and sometimes death. Its all a part of normal life at the homestead. <br />
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If you sit long enough you will begin to notice that the hens all have distinct personalities and quirks that make them each unique. Each has a place in chicken society. Regrettably, there are even cliques.<br />
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And, in the most interesting fashion each girl lays her own signature egg. Clockwise from the top left; the brown bullet (a thin and pointy egg), the Wedgwood palest blue, the concrete with aggregate, the Maran speckled quailey egg. And by accident, the Olive Egger.<br />
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I had a plan to have pretty eggs. I have since lost track of that plan. Now I am selecting chickens based on behavior and laying performance. The mix of different heritage breeds has now gone to hybrids and I will end up with a Landrace flock in the end. The funniest part is the envy of the olive egg. People all over farm social media sites are going crazy to raise their own olive eggers by crossing a brown egg layer with an Araucana that lays green eggs. My olive eggs are second generation accidents. Most likely a cross of an Araucana with a Maran or Black Jersey Giant.</div>
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I am now focusing on certain traits such as rose combs, that do not seem to get so frost bitten in the winter. This is a small and cosmetic trait, but is really about chicken health. It takes a lot of energy to heal from frostbite of the comb. Now I am selecting small combs with blood supplies compactly arranged and close to the skull. Most of my large keeled comb roosters lost the tips of their combs in the winter weather. The rose comb roosters often had no sign of frostbite. So we have a winner in the process of farm animal selection. Less weather stress. The rose comb tends to be broader and more spread out across the birds skull, so any summer cooling properties are hopefully retained. No fancy birds here anymore, but now we look for good mommas, good scratchers, with a great body and survivor instinct.</div>
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Back to the eggs. One of the more enjoyable parts of hen keeping is the eggs. Each girl lays an egg like no other. In the process of collecting eggs, you get to see their identity in the nest box. 'ah there's my bullet girl today' or 'there's one with a knot on top like the tip of a straightened elbow' your girls have their own identity, and often it is a guess about whom produced what egg. Only you my dear, only you.</div>
Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-12735033093518191152013-11-19T00:30:00.001-05:002013-11-19T00:30:49.591-05:00Boot Strappin'I think the first engineers in the world were farmers.<br />
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Had to be engineers. There is nothing on a farm that does not break, stop running,
fall down, go amiss, tangle up, want to kill you, not cooperate, or wants to die on you. Fact.<br />
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Farming has low profit margins, if not negative profit margins. So, thrift
and economy are mandatory. Fix it yourself, make it yourself. <br />
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Take it out of your pocket, or take it out of your hide, I always say. <br />
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Not every convenient tool is close at hand. If every convenient tool is
close at hand you are either an 85 year old farmer, whom has bought every tool
known to man over a lifetime of fixing things, or you are well-to-do person whom likes
to spend free time by being shat upon by various livestock. You know, the good
life.<br />
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If you are medium to borderline strapped for cash or if you have full on crossed that border, then you must be a
Boot-Strap farmer.<br />
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I claim this with pride, as I doggedly refuse to go into debt. I dumpster
dive, pick up used 2x4's on the side of the road before the garbage man
arrives. Same with old windows. Yes I am that crazy lady with the Subaru going
through your trash pile. I shop classified ads for gently used farm equipment
(means not broken, much).<br />
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I don't own trailers. So you arrive at scenes like this:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6mcJO-qgafWI7Svd5BTnJIRWWPzxN3zvVlELV70MHhX1Q9lS5g42dhqPKZ56_3Aknq9m6OnHxaG-uqShkHKip7BEUXr0cmbyGp5AsMBZpQMEtQC0djFNrGKg-Dgun499Ud5SgM38I5BQ3/s1600/IMAG0103-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6mcJO-qgafWI7Svd5BTnJIRWWPzxN3zvVlELV70MHhX1Q9lS5g42dhqPKZ56_3Aknq9m6OnHxaG-uqShkHKip7BEUXr0cmbyGp5AsMBZpQMEtQC0djFNrGKg-Dgun499Ud5SgM38I5BQ3/s320/IMAG0103-1.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes you CAN fit a 4 ft bush hog into a Subaru.</td></tr>
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And it was darn heavy I might add.<br />
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Most of the success at Boot-Strappin' comes from a skill that is tough to learn once you have lived a life replete with petroleum muscle in the form of tractors and machines, and easy access to cash to solve a problem. This skill is what is called "outlier thinking". It is the innate ability to break down a farm problem into the most simple, cost free, useful and sustainable solution. A person has to train themselves to think this way. It is the opposite solution, to the money solution. You have to think of what you could do to fix a problem if you had zero cash and zero mechanical advantage. Often the solution is wild, and off center, but you have to think this way and let it percolate to the top. Then you must embrace it, and get to work. Think of using what you already have, what you know you could trade for.<br />
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My Boot Strap guru and mentor, has this outlier thinking honed to a fine skill. Hand him a problem, and watch that brain turn to create a solution from nothing. I give you Farmer Leaf, of Broadened Horizons Organic Farm in Pilot, VA.<br />
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<a href="http://www.sustainability-teaching-farm.com/">http://www.sustainability-teaching-farm.c</a>om</div>
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Have a look at Boot Strappin' in action:<br />
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<a href="http://youtu.be/GbLIuKbaDQQ" target="_blank">http://youtu.be/GbLIuKbaDQQ</a><br />
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Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Broadened Horizons Organic Farm" height="212" src="https://mail-attachment.googleusercontent.com/attachment/u/0/?ui=2&ik=cb5c20a048&view=att&th=137dc741c7ed6f20&attid=0.3&disp=inline&realattid=file3&safe=1&zw&saduie=AG9B_P9IhjW904K_gJ8vFURbfWg_&sadet=1384837194600&sads=EMebG4gDQhADei0uf4cojAPEpbU&sadssc=1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Farmer Leaf's hand baler machine.<br />
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Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-85926673154423483012013-09-08T23:40:00.002-04:002013-09-08T23:43:05.358-04:00Drive by Roosters<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
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A large movement is afoot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People from cities, to towns, to back out in the country are clamoring for egg chickens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is an appeal to having chickens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On first glance, they appear to be quaint, utilitarian and simple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hipsters from all over are getting egg layers for their city rooftops, and suburban side yards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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In general, I think it is a great idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More people should take direct responsibility for feeding themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More people should understand that chickens are living beings, not commodities to be used, expended and then thrown away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any true introduction to chicken-ness is good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every animal you care for winds up teaching you lessons, some good, some not so good.</div>
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The good is really quite obvious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chickens are waste conversion engines of the finest kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inputs are seeds, grains, bugs and kitchen scraps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Outputs are eggs and amusement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chicken TV if you will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could spend hours just sitting watching them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have personality and social structure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also watch bee TV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Call me nuts, but I don’t watch real TV anymore (a whole separate blog entry) so I have to do something lazy.</div>
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The bad part about this chicken business is that folks don’t really know what they are in for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are signing up for such lovely things as vertical poop, that is poo on the wall about 4 ft off the ground and not near a perch or nest box, but somehow there is poo four feet up on that wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Segue to manure handling or mucking out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A job I never do on my farm since we run our floorless chicken schooners up and down the hayfield.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The chickens oblige by fertilizing my hay field for me, and I oblige by not shoveling any manure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Breaks my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, chances are slim that city ordinance will allow chicken tractors to be moved up and down your yard in suburbia. The coops are required to be permanent and match the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, one may have no roosters in general. Quarter acre lot subdivisions are not conducive to Mr. Roo waking the neighbors at 4AM.</div>
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And there is the big ugly specter looming in the corner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Egg hens lay well for about 4-6 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most municipalities prohibit animal slaughter in your yard, so what do you do with old Henrietta and she has passed her prime?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if you have no constitution for dispatching the animal?</div>
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I’ll tell you what happens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Folks drive by your farm and throw chickens at you. </div>
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Yes, you stroll around one morning to see that stranger-chickens have showed up, roosters that you neither asked for nor wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps someone was to soft hearted to slaughter their own birds, or was prevented by ordinance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps their children wouldn’t let them do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Here dear lets put the roosters out on this farm to retire”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Need I remind you that we are a working farm?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We let the roosters live a very happy, contented chicken-life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They roamed freely, they ate feed, and they ate bugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were delicious.</div>
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Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-59309824097194517142013-06-03T23:52:00.000-04:002013-06-03T23:52:14.149-04:00Spine of AppalachiaI've been on small farms in the foothills of Maine. I've been on small farms in the foothills of Tennessee. The barns have the same wood, the same horse collars and oxbows and yokes hang from the beams in the barn. The morning fog lays low to the hay until the sun rises and burns it off. Practical farmhouses sit in places close to their barns, so milking isn't a distant walk. Clotheslines are mandatory.<br />
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It is possible to awake in both places, to the music of songbirds at dawn, with cold night air coming through an open window and streaming over your cheek, with the crisp smell of line dried linens and blankets. The sleep of a clean conscience comes for free in exchange work contribution on this farm. Guaranteed.<br />
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Barn swallows dance over your head as you plow, mow, or rake, or windrow, be they Tennessee swallows or those of Maine the agile birds fly the same twisted daredevil loops. They know when fieldwork is about, and appear when the tractor is started, or when the horses are brought out. So well the farmers have their swallows trained, almost as though they can be taken for granted.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqR_XdEsy0J-wFS-d_eKHnFwXUD21-f4itK3dzS299NBqfr1Ixk_F2gUFy-9K_clqVqIrdryo0YMsosA4h5B8QTujPD1zLGzyoCDqlLHakulGQIO0nxpX-Qo81f2d_lu5PmSUFbi8d8nEA/s1600/IMAG0312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqR_XdEsy0J-wFS-d_eKHnFwXUD21-f4itK3dzS299NBqfr1Ixk_F2gUFy-9K_clqVqIrdryo0YMsosA4h5B8QTujPD1zLGzyoCDqlLHakulGQIO0nxpX-Qo81f2d_lu5PmSUFbi8d8nEA/s320/IMAG0312.jpg" width="191" yya="true" /></a></div>
The same mountains are in the distance, a summer gray green, that disappears in blue layers to the edge of sight. The ridge's shape is the same like "kicked carpet" (I wish I could remember who said that) that stretches over 1000 miles through the hardwood forests of Appalachia. Deep and green, and alive these woods restore and feed the spirits of those whom have learned to stop and be silent.<br />
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The clay fields of the south give way to the glacier erratics and till soil of the north, where the boulders heave themselves skyward, birthing their massive smooth backs up through the soil with each winter freeze. The farmers are given gifts to be found with the plow, and stone boats earn their keep. No history of grandfathers has plowed any of these fields clean. One reads <em>Mending Wall</em> and knows what it means.<br />
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The same practical, solid nature persists in these people, up and down the spine of Appalachia. It is a way of doing, a way of going, being efficient, knowing how to work. These things are valued, and the old folks pine for these traits and mourn their loss in the youth who have walked down off the mountain and gone into town, never to return. Who will cut my hay, and stack it in the barn? The corn is coming in, and the sweet corn picked in the morning cool is the best. I have cooking and sewing and knitting to teach, I am the fifth generation in a line of women to know these things...how can this die with me? A uniform is worn. From Tennessee to Maine there are work clothes, plaid shirts, practical boots; not the cheap ones, but the good ones that cost more and last for years. Aprons and skirts for the women. Clotheslines are hung with great dignity. The unmentionables to the inside lines, or the lines facing away from the road. Stains, tatters and rips drip dry in the bathroom over the tub, not fit for a public display of home keeping. Food has few ingredients, and strangers at their tables never go hungry. Soapy dishwater is dumped out on the rose bush. Mason jars line heavy shelves and make a patchwork of color. <br />
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Springs bubble water, sacred water, out of rock hillsides and give rise to streams, and brooks and rivers. Water blesses these farms both windward and lee, and rain comes to Maine and Tennessee. The hillsides are swathed in smoky clouds, evidence of ample moisture, what do you wish to grow, they ask. Travel 1000 miles and you will still be home.<br />
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Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-77562322232690438512013-05-30T22:26:00.000-04:002013-05-30T22:26:24.973-04:00SublimeI discovered a couple of days ago that my city bee hive had died out. Not good news these days. I had checked on it a couple of weeks ago, but had not opened it yet as it was well set up over the winter. I thought I had substantial comings and goings of field bees this spring but when I checked on things early this week, it was bad news. To top it off, wax moths had eagerly infested the valuable non-foundation drawn comb frames. The horror!<br />
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I am not a fan of the use of chemicals, and my freezer is packed full. Normally one would put the frames in the deep freeze for a few days to kill the bugs off. So, I thought I didn't have a solution for this other than to let the frames and comb perish. It struck me like a bolt from the blue, a free association from another bit of homesteading skills. Why not fumigate with dry ice?<br />
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Now that I have googled it, I find that this is not an uncommon solution. But, the idea came into my own head as a result of the grain storage learning I have. If you want to store whole grains for months without insect damage, store them in a 5 gallon bucket with a lid and a chunk of dry ice. When the ice melts into pure Carbon Dioxide gas, it displaces the oxygenated atmosphere and suffocates the pests in the grain. Huzzah!<br />
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The process is ongoing, even as I write. The larvae are exiting the comb and dropping to the bottom of the clear plastic tote I have the CO2 fumigant in. It is taking quite a bit longer than I imagined for the larvae to perish. They must have very well oxygenated bodies, or a very low metabolism. A few ants inside the box dropped within 15 minutes of sealing the lid on. The sweet part is that CO2 is not a haz-mat. It can displace the air you breathe, so it should be used with caution and not in an enclosed space. Never touch any part of the dry ice with your bare skin.<br />
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Very simple setup; infested wax frames, large plastic tote with tight lid (or some sheet of plastic big enough to seal as a lid), packing tape, dry ice (handled with gloves only).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlD4Y0_AvRtRw7GvhA7-hCB8UUfb575NqSP5Vu_oZ3y-nacWj5wj9Psc8E9-w_rkhD670Ku33DPnIVILeZhY2VymvFkuR5J_yHMz2-mgO_wQsKVnPDBD6ZJNSA_eQDbbJeZn7GSjPA-9V/s1600/tape.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlD4Y0_AvRtRw7GvhA7-hCB8UUfb575NqSP5Vu_oZ3y-nacWj5wj9Psc8E9-w_rkhD670Ku33DPnIVILeZhY2VymvFkuR5J_yHMz2-mgO_wQsKVnPDBD6ZJNSA_eQDbbJeZn7GSjPA-9V/s320/tape.JPG" width="320" yya="true" /></a>Tape for the lid.</div>
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Put the frames in the tote, put the dry ice in, seal with tape, except for a small corner to let pressure out of the tote. The dry ice melts and turns directly to gas (sublimation) and displaces the atmospheric air. Voila! I plan on keeping it sealed overnight so I can be sure to get the larvae. I am not sure what happens to the eggs or pupae as they appear to be in stasis somewhat. But, we will see.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVsp876C8kDvtGB7Omewb9hOFQWQONhx9RHCFXwD34uT-vpES2l6bCBmG0ZGOj3bFbJNccvbsiZJ8N98CdEMZiiou6U4WqnS4WBJRXAZxSuJJrn4xtQYGC3BkY1g5hkuMLHZ2TlC0lPe6/s1600/dry+ice.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVsp876C8kDvtGB7Omewb9hOFQWQONhx9RHCFXwD34uT-vpES2l6bCBmG0ZGOj3bFbJNccvbsiZJ8N98CdEMZiiou6U4WqnS4WBJRXAZxSuJJrn4xtQYGC3BkY1g5hkuMLHZ2TlC0lPe6/s320/dry+ice.JPG" width="191" yya="true" /></a>A bag of dry ice from the grocery store. Wear gloves.</div>
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I can put this comb directly into strong hives and the worker bees will clean up the mess. Wax comb creation is a tremendous effort for the bees, so to cut their work short by giving them instant comb is a great idea.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgtzMTLoUHn-lcUvvKK403zSCVPsxGp7f86OB6hwiK9EYslveRRWidEg7lb23uIE4g0qFrjVxCcf_WfqSqFfSf5soW18HxYfO4RPdsdkZDnN_UmGyIvBy22s_95ozmWSDk6lQzfNM5Q1Y/s1600/tote+packed.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgtzMTLoUHn-lcUvvKK403zSCVPsxGp7f86OB6hwiK9EYslveRRWidEg7lb23uIE4g0qFrjVxCcf_WfqSqFfSf5soW18HxYfO4RPdsdkZDnN_UmGyIvBy22s_95ozmWSDk6lQzfNM5Q1Y/s320/tote+packed.JPG" width="320" yya="true" /></a>Frames and Dry Ice packed in clear tote.</div>
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I must admit it is with wry pleasure that I watch these little maggot like larvae drop to the bottom of my tote! </div>
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I think the part that I am happiest about, was that I had divine inspiration all on my own on this one. I connected the dots of past learning. I realize that it is the victory of hundreds whom have already had this original idea before, and wrote about it on the Internet. But, I did this without google. What if there was no google. As my dad always says "Learn everything you can, about anything you can. You never know when something will serve you." This is, in fact, sublime.</div>
Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-60415531147302245502013-02-24T23:30:00.000-05:002013-02-24T23:33:01.062-05:00Tennessee Maple Syrup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgsqE4Lwby6z0QQVxjArF_dHnyyBxx5q9Tcwjh-ac4YceKe9GPO_QA4iJvsKNnw76XJqYxLZdPWZLERFx0MGdnZwAVvNXewmHssr3JFufo1D0Z_eFN0cK_o78bNYDGR01FwzyOExQ0LOYi/s1600/maple+blossom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gsa="true" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgsqE4Lwby6z0QQVxjArF_dHnyyBxx5q9Tcwjh-ac4YceKe9GPO_QA4iJvsKNnw76XJqYxLZdPWZLERFx0MGdnZwAVvNXewmHssr3JFufo1D0Z_eFN0cK_o78bNYDGR01FwzyOExQ0LOYi/s320/maple+blossom.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Folks, it is officially over. Yes, my journey into maple syrup in TN is done for 2013. The maple trees are now blooming and sap is no longer running. I can hardly describe my happiness at discovering the massive ancient maple trees at the farm. While growing up in MA, I had tapped maples with my father. I never thought it possible to do such a thing so far south, in such a warm climate. It is possible and we succeeded. There is a <a href="http://www.tngenweb.org/campbell/hist-bogan/MapleSugar.html" target="_blank">history of maple sugarin'</a> in this part of TN. Most would associate maple syrup with Vermont or New England, but I am stubborn.<br />
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I mail ordered some taps from Canada. Spiles they are properly called. Stainless steel, the old fangled type that have hooks to hold buckets. Nowadays many sugaring operations use tube lines and trees are interconnected to the downhill container collecting the sap. Not for me. I have to keep things as simple and critter proof as possible. I used the method proven by my dad. It takes a spile, a short section of tubing and a milk jug for each tap. We collected just over 16 gallons of sap from the few trees we used.<br />
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This tree is over 30 inches in diameter and supported 4 taps. For those of you tempted to be more natural than natural...DO NOT USE ELDERBERRY BRANCHES as taps. Elderberry stems contain a toxin akin to (or may be exactly) cyanide, and this is not something you want to ingest after concentrating it down by boiling. Don't poison yourselves folks.<br />
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All along the back of the fence line are many magnificent ancient maples. The sap flowed well for a couple of weeks. I watched the weather for days above freezing and nights below freezing. The tell-tale was the sap weeping from new woodpecker holes in the bark of the maple trees. It was time to tap.<br />
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We knew we were not going to make a commercial effort at maple syrup production. Most small farm efforts are best served by staying small. We saved up 16 gallons of sap and began to reduce it down. It took most of a weekend and probably far more stove gas than I care to account for. But, the result was a quart of the finest tasting, but dark grade of maple syrup. It is a fine treat for the children (and adults), whom are on their third maple syrup and pancake breakfast with this batch. It is a fleeting sweet indulgence, in the most improbable of locations.<br />
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Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-25438763407389308802013-01-26T23:56:00.000-05:002013-01-26T23:56:07.964-05:00A Mighty WinterThings go out of balance. Things go awry. 2012 was a tough year on the farmstead. Here at LJF we experienced a February where the weather turned to 80F and stayed there for 2 weeks, without rain. All this just after having planted 500 white spruce Christmas trees. We bucketed rainwater, having no well, and having none of the customary cool, damp TN February weather, to 500 thirsty spruce seedlings. Needless to say, this heat stress slammed them. We lost most of that planting. It is depressing, as every single one of these trees was planted by hand. Not a small task for us. We had worked for days to do it. It was taken out of our hide. The loss of the crop was keenly felt.<br />
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So it was buckets, buckets, buckets. Every day, every day, every day. Didn't work. One does not plant conifers in the dead heat of summer. This was a false summer, but summer weather it was.<br />
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The ticks absolutely thrived in this weather. It is possible that they barely went to sleep for the winter in 2012. The spring was spent with regular tick checks on all of the human and animal inhabitants of the farm. It was nothing to close the day with a tick check and find 4-8 ticks on each person. <br />
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I have already written about the rodent issue in a previous post. The infestation of rats in the fields preceeded our arrival when we bought the place. Our first effort at reclaiming part of the hayfield by bush-hogging revealed many rodents leaping from under the tractor in all directions. I have to imagine that the local ecosystem is bountiful enough to provide for such a population, and that predators are few.<br />
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However, when we inserted our will into the equation, things went badly. The invisible legion (I have to keep calling it that) crawled from below ground to wreak havoc on everything I did. William and I apportioned our labor such that he would build farm structure, and I would tend to crops. I was maddened by the removal of seeds from the ground in my garden plantings. The destruction of vegetables at the point of harvest made me crazy. I have already detailed this <a href="http://lightningjarfarm.blogspot.com/2012/10/rats.html" target="_blank">here</a> so I will spare you the repeat.<br />
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2011-2012 was the year without a winter in my opinion.<br />
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But, this year is shiny with hope. We have had snow, we have had sub-freezing temperatures. I know if you are reading from northern states that you will now sniff at me. For TN though as with the rest of the country, I think a "traditional" winter is important (for the environment and for people, whom are part of the environment), and it is just the thing we are losing during this epoch of Global Weirding. As weather oscillates from the old pattern to the new pattern, whatever that turns out to be, we may see our customary farm plans fall apart if they do not take these changes into account. However, resiliency and playing the averages has its limits.<br />
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My dream, and it is a small one, is that this cold weather will kill off some ticks, starve out some rats, and restore normal for one more year. Welcome to farming.Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-34554820799494178152012-10-14T13:00:00.000-04:002012-10-14T13:00:04.200-04:00Rats!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
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<span id="goog_1834151329"></span><span id="goog_1834151330"></span>Sometimes on the farm, we lose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could present an upbeat, wholly untruthful narrative about the way things turned out on the farm this year. And, if I did so, I would be lying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had our share of losses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No corn, and as it turns out, a pitiful vegetable garden plagued in a Biblical fashion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I would have to call it a plague; RATS.</div>
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I have always been aware of their existence on this farm but this past winter was especially easy and I noticed them jumping out of the way in front of my tractor when I mowed in early spring.</div>
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They haunted all of my dreams of abundance. I planted 50 of the most lovely, lush paste tomato plants one could ever hope for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tended them, put manure around their roots, limed the soil to a perfect pH and watched them grow, expand, set flower and fruit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I staked them with a <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Florida</st1:place></st1:state> weave, and the green tomatoes abounded.</div>
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Then, in the heat of summer, just when the fruit was taking on a nice blush of red, the plague attacked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I entered the garden daily to find each fruit still green at the top and eaten on the red-tinted blossom end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grrr.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ok, I thought, just a rat or two (there is never just two where they live in cities). Indeed they are a force of destruction, taking a few nibbles out of each-and-every-somewhat-ripe---tomato.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While they plundered the tomatoes, my beans grew nearby, untouched and unravaged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lucky for me my taste runs toward the “haricot vert” side and I picked probably 10 lbs of beans for the freezer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt like I was winning. Why is it that I had to erase this last sentence and rewrite it because of Charlie Sheen? He does not belong in my paragraphs.</div>
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All went well until the bean shells swelled with fat seeds inside. Now there was a higher nutrient value within the seeds, and the instinct of these remarkable yet disgusting creatures lead them to the bean patch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Half eaten beans, just barely chewed beans, completely eaten beans and very, very few pristine beans left for me.</div>
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The beet seedlings; sheared off at the sprouted tops.</div>
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Carrot seedlings; gone.</div>
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Sweet corn seeds were snatched out of their rows in the ground. No sign of disturbance at the soil surface, just unrealized corn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, corn is an abstract this year on the farm.</div>
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I checked the sweet potatoes, previously pushing their tough shoulders against the soil, and rupturing it in great cracks above as they muscled through the dirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All dug out of the soil, and eaten.</div>
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My heirloom squash seemed to be defiant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tough shelled and smooth with a reasonably large diameter, they resisted assault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fine pairs of flat chisel marks from rodent incisors began to appear on some of the fruit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>HA HA!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The vermin cannot bite the squash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I quickly harvested all the ripe and near ripe fruits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This may be a sign, and adaptive gardening measure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One should only plant hard shelled veggies. Sigh…not the diverse and tasty garden of my dreams. </div>
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What is going on here?</div>
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The organic, environmental reason for this plague is an imbalance in the ecosystem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it is the warm winter we had last year? Perhaps it is the presence of Livestock Guardian Dogs keeping rat predators at bay while ignoring the rats themselves? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it was the lack of a human presence pushing them back for the past 20 years? Who knows, but this year I am hoping for a mighty winter to descend upon these fields, and for balance to return to the farmstead.</div>
Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-26803465951153902822012-09-11T05:00:00.000-04:002012-09-11T05:00:01.687-04:00Livestock Guardian Dogs<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
We have two full time working dogs on our farm. One is a Great Pyrenees mix (with Collie I understand), and the other is part Anatolian and part Pyr, which part is which I have no idea. That's her in the back wearing the mask..</div>
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These are beautiful, true working dogs. They won't win any pageants covered in burrs as they usually are. But they are on the job all day and all night. Not much escapes their notice and they hear, see and smell all of the threats to their flock. We were told by the breeders of our raccoon masked dog, Daisy, that she would grow up not really caring about people. She was to care for the animals and not much else. We have found this to be very untrue. She loves people, and considers them to be equally as important to protect, especially kids. When working on different areas of the farm, it is very common to have the dogs follow us, and just sit there watching as we mow, make fence, dig or plant. We are part of the flock they are guarding. When the kids go walking, almost always one or the other dog follows with them.</div>
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It is truly a safe feeling to be awakened in the night by their barks, and to hear them race off across the farm to protect against some other critter. When you are tent camping, is is reassuring to hear them just outside your canvas wall. They are awake while we sleep. They do an excellent job, and we have lost very few chickens as a result. One can lie in the dark, and listen to their two barking voices, each very unique. Lexie's bark is higher, a bit raspy and squeaky. Daisy has the deepest most improbable voice for a lady, a rumbling low register, big dog bark. </div>
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I am amazed by their camaraderie. Lexie the Pyr mix, was brought in as an adoption. Her former farm could not handle her anymore as she was rumored to be chasing their goats. When she arrived, she walked out amidst our chickens, took up a commanding strategic location in the chicken yard, and went to guarding immediately. She has been a steady part of the team ever since. Daisy arrived from her litter in Georgia as a 10 week old pup. She did not guard right away, and took several months to mature. At approximately 8 months old, the guard dog powers were activated. With the teaching example of the older dog, Lexie, she has become the finest of guard dogs. It is impossible to teach these dogs to do what they do. It is pure instinct. It is unique experience to watch a creature fulfill what they are meant to be, and without any human interference. When one dog darts away chasing something, the other is quickly up and away after her.</div>
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These dogs are not without their shortcomings however, and we have been working to teach them the boundaries of the farm. It is in the dogs nature to maintain a secure territory. Sometimes this means going on "walkabout" and taking the fight to the coyotes. They dogs will wander, seeking to push the predators further and further away from the home territory. Often this causes them to "go missing" for hours. For a caring dog owner, this is torture. Every Pyr owner I have talked too can tell me a similar story. It is a priority for the dog's boundaries to be clearly established.</div>
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These dogs are a great asset on the farm. So much would be lost to predators without them. They completely earn their keep.</div>
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Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-1613747859448842422012-09-10T05:00:00.000-04:002012-09-10T05:00:06.748-04:00Corn Crop FailureMy To-Do list got the best of me this year. Or perhaps it was luck? Just as the Midwest is reeling and crops are dying, we in East TN are having climate issues as well. The month of June, I recorded only .65" of rain for the entire calendar month. That is terrible I must tell you, plus for a good part of the month, the daytime high temperatures were over 100 F. Almost unbearable to work in. For sure impossible to grow corn in without irrigation.<br />
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In 2011 I planted about 1/4 acre in Oxacan Green Dent Corn. I got it from heirloom seed sellers. My hope was that I would be soon filling my corn crib, and building a seed bank to plant with continuously. I saved two bursting 1 gallon zip lock bags with the seed product of that 2011 crop, fully intending to replant and expand in 2012.<br />
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It didn't happen.<br />
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I never got it planted.<br />
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Too much infrastructure building going on. Too much bush hogging to do. Too much of too much. Not one kernel of green corn got planted in the ground.<br />
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I never thought I could ever be so lucky. <br />
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Yes, lucky. <br />
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The farm has no formal irrigation system. The system is me with buckets. There is no way I could have kept that crop alive through June, July and August without mechanical/petroleum powered irrigation. I would have lost every last kernel in the weeks of 100 F and higher heat.<br />
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Now my two bursting gallons of corn seed are safe and tucked away in cool dark storage, waiting for next year. [Yes, with proper storage corn can be kept for decades, perhaps centuries as was discovered in the desert southwest]<br />
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So, a failure turns out not be a failure after all, but merely another chance to gamble with nature next year.<br />
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LJF 1, Nature 0--- But Nature bats last.Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-8596777371670546042012-09-09T21:43:00.000-04:002012-09-09T21:43:07.610-04:00Untold Riches<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GWxZrIBw9ilgyectmhjLqti99ku3Q5YTJYLd2Qm4IQjH8f3fUJw7r3lwAU3iZILq0hytZHKvOW7FewGPpqhLuBmbu3GDQAD8FXZgWsAew3lAGRSqjBJyKKF-ZNndFC-cpNIMjc7d0gJr/s1600/hay+in+barn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" hea="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GWxZrIBw9ilgyectmhjLqti99ku3Q5YTJYLd2Qm4IQjH8f3fUJw7r3lwAU3iZILq0hytZHKvOW7FewGPpqhLuBmbu3GDQAD8FXZgWsAew3lAGRSqjBJyKKF-ZNndFC-cpNIMjc7d0gJr/s320/hay+in+barn.jpg" title="Hay in LJF's Barn" width="191" /></a>Fall is nearly here, the sun is slanted low in the sky. The evenings have cooled from their uncomfortable highs of summer. And, I have hay in the barn. Hay from my own property. This hay also brought some beautiful friends into our lives. The man we hired to mow it, brought his wife to help us load it into the barn the next day. A blessing, a gift of labor, and we are pleased to now have them as friends.</div>
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It is wealth from the bottom of the food chain, the most basic of blessings, the kind of bank that can keep a farm and feed all the animals and people on it. I am a wealthy woman indeed.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8jVEUOX09fi2ENdQ_6trVCGqtJyIs3Fs5pvbaYzz30YVDScy2riOQdLz_xod6pBjJoIGaqslAuAjLFr8ofihjMFJpMVzPq5_qaEzGUIo9NUE5P6OZdwAwu-PLXRJj9PdUWkmxgwCbxDl/s1600/habales+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8jVEUOX09fi2ENdQ_6trVCGqtJyIs3Fs5pvbaYzz30YVDScy2riOQdLz_xod6pBjJoIGaqslAuAjLFr8ofihjMFJpMVzPq5_qaEzGUIo9NUE5P6OZdwAwu-PLXRJj9PdUWkmxgwCbxDl/s320/habales+2012.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-67696475834330593642012-07-25T22:18:00.001-04:002012-07-25T22:18:06.622-04:00To Do List:Not necessarily in order.<br />
- build a Salatin drop cage for the meat birds before they get much bigger<br />
- plant the rest of the late season garden<br />
- prepare for the arrival of the new Rhode Island Red chicks<br />
- put up the invisible dog fence<br />
- install the charge controller, batteries and inverter for the PV system<br />
- build a stand for the 275 gallon water tote<br />
- pipe together the 55 gallon rain barrels<br />
- build a perimeter fence on the back property line<br />
- disc wheat field (more than once)<br />
- trim pony's hooves<br />
- get the kids some mud boots<br />
- get me some mud boots<br />
- start shopping for a new straw hat before this one rots off my head<br />
- buy spelt seed<br />
- plant spelt<br />
- plant Kamut<br />
- stop adding too many items to the to-do list<br />
- clean out the freezers <br />
- make a space for the mason jar shelf<br />
- plant some more veg winter garden<br />
- plant veg yet again (succession plant winter garden)<br />
- plant the garlic<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjez5zU9g03FsehAiAzB8FnR4tydw-oWysmFwpuzBWR8pH8VVA20B7Vmiz_21Pmpvz3BxGz9B21nZj-mlOreJY2VpyriB99D1T3I0KcupbOFEjKyqsdd5G_BJXezcHkyJgNedQfhTJ-zFD5/s1600/green+corn.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjez5zU9g03FsehAiAzB8FnR4tydw-oWysmFwpuzBWR8pH8VVA20B7Vmiz_21Pmpvz3BxGz9B21nZj-mlOreJY2VpyriB99D1T3I0KcupbOFEjKyqsdd5G_BJXezcHkyJgNedQfhTJ-zFD5/s320/green+corn.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I will only have 10% of my running to-do list ever completed.<br />
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The Oxacan Green corn above was on the to-do list, but was and epic to-do list failure, or was that a triumph of luck?Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-66152730440054749852012-07-25T22:04:00.000-04:002012-07-25T22:04:25.762-04:00Seeds for TomorrowI was very pleased when Bear came up to me this weekend, his little hands outstretched, face beaming. In his palms he held some small squash seeds. He was so proud. I asked him where he got those. He told me that the dried gourd on our mantle had fallen down and broken, and that he was saving the seed from inside, because it grew more food, and that it was important to save seeds.<br />
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I am proud of my Bear, very proud.Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-75019395384113366292012-07-23T23:10:00.002-04:002012-07-23T23:10:10.383-04:00We are born not knowing anything.Isn't it great?Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-27173486971889159842012-07-23T23:01:00.001-04:002012-07-23T23:01:23.587-04:00NightshadeThe nightshade plant family is as varied as large family full of relatives can be. Many of our favorite vegetables are nightshades; potatoes, tomatoes, eggplant, peppers, and okra. Even the habit forming tobacco plant is in the nightshade family. In addition, there are quite a few unsavory characters lurking around the family reunion; belladonna, ground cherries and horse nettle to name a few. These plants are toxic. And wouldn't you know it, some of the horse nettle variety are lurking around the farm. <br />
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A "diva of dirt" gardener friend has often said to me that a weed is just a plant that is in the wrong place. This definitely applies in this situation. A toxic weed is taking up residence near my gardens, and even in them. Wrong plant, wrong place. Unfortunately my organic eradication plan is going to take some time. I have been selectively cutting these with my scythe wherever I can find them, but it seems hopeless, they are persistent, mostly where ground has been disturbed, like my garden. They are especially dangerous to small children whom may find their bright yellow berries to be appealing and eat them.<br />
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I feel very little attachment to these wicked little plants. They are bold enough to sport thorns on their stems and on the undersides of their leaves. I have to suppress the urge to lean over and pull them with my bare hands, an act that leads to instant punishment. My drive to remove them often outweighs my fear of thorns, and I have been known to gingerly move the plant stem around looking for a place to get a purchase on it and pull without being bitten. I rarely succeed.<br />
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I have noticed this year, that these plants are under particular stress. Pests have played havoc on them, nearly all are blighted and suffering. The drought conditions of June really stress these plants out and to top it off, the potato beetles and flea beetles love them.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc7C0Sj6InBm-h4LUdYXhxd_ZIfwPy6YBYQq-4JdKPoFdSN7HtIHUWnMi2oy0m-HeOR02hsT_j_BxPFl1W1Falk1UFBIFaBpPaBGv9FrZdO128zmMM6bCMG0LiH5YZVtFLh83JbdDbv3lq/s1600/nightshade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc7C0Sj6InBm-h4LUdYXhxd_ZIfwPy6YBYQq-4JdKPoFdSN7HtIHUWnMi2oy0m-HeOR02hsT_j_BxPFl1W1Falk1UFBIFaBpPaBGv9FrZdO128zmMM6bCMG0LiH5YZVtFLh83JbdDbv3lq/s640/nightshade.jpg" width="380" /></a></div>
Take a look at how utterly wasted this plant looks. The leaves are all thickened and scarred from repeated pest attacks, leaving the plant susceptible to viral and bacterial attack. BONUS! <br />
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Then there is the organic gardener's principle of <em>trap crops. </em>Should I even be pulling this plant out at all? If they are so tasty, and in such a weakened state, perhaps these little buggies will leave my beloved nightshades alone, and only harass these ugly nightshades?<br />
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I know last year that I was astonished at the speed with which the Colorado Potato Beetles reached my potato plants. Almost immediately upon emergence, they attacked. Within a couple of weeks my poor taters were shredded. It was all because this plant acts as a <em>harborage plant</em> in addition to its trap crop duties. I have squished many a Potato Beetle as it perched on these plants and munched. Glass half empty/glass half full quandary. <br /><br />Since I seem unable to get totally ahead of the nightshades near the garden, I can always dump the dang glass out and make sure that my desirable nightshades (tomatoes, peppers, potatoes)have all of their immune systems functioning, and that they resist pests with full strength due to good cultural practices.<br />
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1) shallow tilth, keeping the nutrient rich topsoil ON TOP<br />
2) additions of rotted manure, and compost to encourage a lively microbial life in the garden bed<br />
3) additions of lime to straighten out the pH of the soil. Acid soil binds the minerals and prevents plants from using them. Maintaining the proper pH gives the minerals mobility and they can be used by the plant to build their biological defenses. Oh yes, and store these minerals in their fruit, which we humans like to eat. More nutrients for us bipeds.<br />
4) proper watering these weed plants do not get the benefit of water during the drought conditions<br />
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Another neat observation; with the stress and possibly disease going on with these, the horse nettle may be its own worse enemy this year. They are potentially, in their weakness, spreading disease amongst themselves. Self annihilation. <br />
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Now if only crabgrass could annihilate itself from my garden, we would be on to something.Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-31665664300196148132012-07-19T23:54:00.000-04:002012-07-19T23:54:01.174-04:00Fancy ChickenLabel Rouge is what they're called....in France. They are called that here too. But mostly, they are known as "pastured poultry" in the US. These are some pretty unique birds and we received them via mail on June 27th. Since that time they have grown to four times their original size. This is not the typical growth rate of your standard barnyard chicken. These chickens grow to full size in about 12 weeks, at which time they are ready for processing. A typical laying hen can take 6 months to reach full maturity. <br />
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I have to preface the following by mentioning that I have no affiliation with the hatchery nor any connection to them. These birds in particular come from the JM Hatchery in PA. They are called "Freedom Rangers". They are a true meat type. One can tell from simple observation that they are bulky and thick in the legs. They have been really interesting to raise so far. While in the brooders, they did not seem to fear humans like other egg breed chicks do. These chickens quickly learn that humans = food. They eat; a lot. And, they grow; fast. When I reached in to place the refilled feeder, some would leap up and try to peck the freckles off my arm. That dear friends, is a sassy chicken.<br />
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Today, as I tended them, I watched as they aggressively hunted for the bugs in their pen. Let's face it, when your body grows that fast, you'd better be eating something to fuel it. I saw one chick take a hop-flight in pursuit of a scarab dung beetle that haplessly flew into their pen. The chick caught it, and in doing so alerted his pen mates to the tasty treat. Then, the chick with the bug did the typical chicken with a bug prize evasive maneuvers. About 4 chicks were in hot pursuit. Just in time I set the feeder back in the paddock and the chasers left the chick to his bug snack.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQdLx-_PizVa112F29DK6kZaOgVg7jMZkvuvsX9vEQposEcRQPn0AQvhSEV8k9H_vwWkpjfISEdbTHntI7V4-7WsukdxSUH9m74q-qdh66lM1KjUtMStxt71CZhb6q7tH7hL6t6VzdBNRF/s1600/ranger+forage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQdLx-_PizVa112F29DK6kZaOgVg7jMZkvuvsX9vEQposEcRQPn0AQvhSEV8k9H_vwWkpjfISEdbTHntI7V4-7WsukdxSUH9m74q-qdh66lM1KjUtMStxt71CZhb6q7tH7hL6t6VzdBNRF/s320/ranger+forage.jpg" width="191" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQGqN6OnjQsbPaTbmVyb83E4J9HUvZkngXL7MMBHta7tXwCx6ZwOXnyBaCriSNwqJTdW1FKveBTqlXUbL355HLAqAtJTBKY5wU2lP-xIU88UBJv0kT4aD5pR3tVXEoZR8crSMdgqs5rtoS/s1600/ranger+close.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQGqN6OnjQsbPaTbmVyb83E4J9HUvZkngXL7MMBHta7tXwCx6ZwOXnyBaCriSNwqJTdW1FKveBTqlXUbL355HLAqAtJTBKY5wU2lP-xIU88UBJv0kT4aD5pR3tVXEoZR8crSMdgqs5rtoS/s320/ranger+close.jpg" width="191" /></a></div>
More on these later, I am sure that they will more than keep us amused. These photos were taken last Sunday afternoon. And today the chicks are noticeably larger.Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-68048012886497948672012-07-19T22:00:00.000-04:002012-07-19T22:00:00.229-04:00Runneth OverWhat an upside down weather pattern we have had this summer. We recorded .65" of rain for the entire month of June, and were down to the last 8 inches of water in ten rain barrels. This was all that was left to water the chickens. Indeed, the weather was so hot that I heard of someone's potato crop getting partially cooked in the soil due to nearly two weeks of 100+ temperature. The humidity was ultra low for East TN, where the rain probability was at 10% chance daily. That is horrible I tell you, when you have plants trying to grow.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3nieoUbMTaHv9OmnoamreJ05IrPH2rGSpW_68JBJDTppjDPRWuF_auPxT3zfDgrs3S3DBwk20EoGBQp7Z4aGbognV-S821oNNej8JRPB4HZ3rc4jygWh3sm6NBzWWP7kgXakNRR8ZR_b/s1600/full+rain+barrel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3nieoUbMTaHv9OmnoamreJ05IrPH2rGSpW_68JBJDTppjDPRWuF_auPxT3zfDgrs3S3DBwk20EoGBQp7Z4aGbognV-S821oNNej8JRPB4HZ3rc4jygWh3sm6NBzWWP7kgXakNRR8ZR_b/s320/full+rain+barrel.jpg" width="191" /></a></div>
We used irony to break the drought, and our friends Tim and Kim helped us haul 3 barrels to the lake to bucket-fill. It is this act of desperation alone that caused it to rain two days later, and we have got about 3 inches total this month since then. It is amazing how this works. Hand bucket 165 gallons of water, only to get effortless water just two days later. I cannot complain. I have some really happy tomato plants and about 100 grateful chickens. Not to mention two very hairy dogs whom were very pleased to see the weather change.Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-82017695946000291982012-07-19T05:00:00.000-04:002012-07-19T05:00:00.655-04:00Renewed Purpose<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVa_97uba-Kq6yThDgaqHtG5od2PWvUQWFrBIEUpDPmBFEoiYaa-DPZyW0JGQyy2GUuaZi-dNJ94SJXLPn8ubjJKvtu92e_X-a3kKqMQJb3PZdvRCrF9Hd3OVnEZPvRhsYL0OeLcUloa2/s1600/oshkosh+pin+bag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVa_97uba-Kq6yThDgaqHtG5od2PWvUQWFrBIEUpDPmBFEoiYaa-DPZyW0JGQyy2GUuaZi-dNJ94SJXLPn8ubjJKvtu92e_X-a3kKqMQJb3PZdvRCrF9Hd3OVnEZPvRhsYL0OeLcUloa2/s320/oshkosh+pin+bag.jpg" width="191" /></a></div>
As a mom is has been always somewhat bittersweet to purge the house of old baby items. Pacifiers here, jumper suits there. I have a little longing for the baby that once was, at the same time reveling in the child that is. Here is a bit of fun with some of my first son's baby overalls, re purposed into a clothespin bag. This way they aren't wasted, they aren't discarded and are not forgotten. On my pilgrimage to the clothesline, my little one is with me, and I can remember his sweet little time.<br />
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In case you are wondering, it is the easiest project ever. Just sew the legs closed and trim the pant leg off about 1/2 inch from the seam. Voila! Clothespin bag.Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-85527021151843677232012-07-18T23:15:00.001-04:002012-07-18T23:15:34.809-04:00Get Your Ducks in a Row<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQgYs7y-r5y7Sz8fE6w14edejVEv0mA-vIJ1dMu167Pf8crbzDoCxmC-E1czL5A0B65hBW9FFjEgqooD_2Emb9DoWeGFqZmbtocC_EKvNYKUtqz4dzjuov3wYUsZp7yrf_C9lZ6h4X-NG/s1600/duck+row.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQgYs7y-r5y7Sz8fE6w14edejVEv0mA-vIJ1dMu167Pf8crbzDoCxmC-E1czL5A0B65hBW9FFjEgqooD_2Emb9DoWeGFqZmbtocC_EKvNYKUtqz4dzjuov3wYUsZp7yrf_C9lZ6h4X-NG/s320/duck+row.jpg" width="191" /></a></div>
Off in the distance, a thunder of webbed feet. Duck parade. They travel this way, criss-crossing the farm. Usually follow the leader. Always greeting us looking for food. When they discover that we aren't going to feed them again, away they go, single file back to the pond.Sewing Machine Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10334730295347527380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1220480131915449653.post-88107145815991915162011-11-26T21:36:00.000-05:002011-11-26T21:36:39.178-05:00That's a darn fine looking gate.This is what you do on Black Friday when you have a farm and you want to eschew the consumer craziness all around. You go out on your place and work all day putting in a handsome looking 16 ft welded gate. Not a bit of money was spent at a mall buying stuff that will be thrown away by June next year. We hope to hang on to this for a good long time.<br />
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