The Currant State of Affairs

Seamus and I paid a visit to Ms. Mary-Sue this morning to dig up a few black and red currant bushes that she needed moved.  These will be re-homed on the farm in our front flower garden next to the (hopefully) soon-to-be mushroom patch.  Seamus had a lovely time digging and re-digging holes in Mary-Sue's garden and then filling them all back in for her.  He was also enthralled by the hundreds of lovely blue flowers scattered throughout her front lawn.

Thank you again Ms. Mary-Sue for your generosity in sharing such beautiful and healthy bushes and for your patience and kindness with Seamus as he helped with the transplanting.

Two Rhubarb Stocks and One Very Dead Fox

We had a very exciting morning here on the farm.  While rocking Alistair to sleep, I noticed Charlie bolting like a race horse across the paddock after a flash of red.  Sure enough, the fox was back and quite determined to have chicken for its lunch.  Charlie chased it out of our barn yard and into the equestrian park next door only to have the fox turn around and try to get into the chicken run for a second time!  Charlie was having none of it.  Bucking like an insane bronco, she chased the fox out again.

By this time I had unceremoniously dumped Alistair on the play mat, interrupted Ian's teleconference with his boss with a frantic "Fox! FOX!", and raced out to the barn yard like a crazy person intending to protect my chickens and ducks by any means necessary.  All I have to say is that it is a good thing that Ian can keep calm in a moment of crisis and that he is a damn good shot.   A very short time later, we had one very dead fox laying in our driveway. 

Our after nap outing seemed quite mundane after this craziness.  Seamus and I headed into Kinburn to pick up some new rhubarb stock.  Our old ones are just not producing and we figured we might try planting some new roots in a new spot.  We are dreaming of rhubarb ice cream...

Charlie does not like rhubarb but she does like fresh carrots and apples.  We brought her out a big bowl of them to congratulate her on a job very well done.  That'll do donkey, that'll do.

A Turbo Charged Nap Time

Once upon a time, farm chores were relaxing.  We could putter away and really relish our time spent outside in the gardens or barn yard.  Do not get me wrong, we still very much enjoy our time spent up-keeping the farm.  However, since having children, we often have to fit our chores into short spurts of productivity.  Our boys are often good helpers but depending on the day or the task at hand, they can be equally good hinderers.

As such, nap time is our most reliably productive time.  It is amazing how much we can accomplish in two hours when we do not have to multi-task with child care!  For instance, Grandma and I plowed through a huge amount of spring garden clean up today while all three boys napped.

The only way we got so much accomplished outside of nap time today was because Grandma was here to help Ian and I watch the boys.  Between the three of us, we mucked Charlie's barn, sold Granby, smoked bacon, installed fairy lights on the back pergola, planted lettuce and seeds in a pallet garden, rebuilt a planter box, AND kept the boys safe, fed, amused, cleaned, etc.

Charlie loves a clean, dry barn.

Mmmm....a bacon tower!

Our reward - Ian and I for getting so many things checked off our to do list and the boys for having epic naps - was a detectable dinner of apple glazed pork belly burnt ends with sweet potato, cucumber slices and passion fruit-clementine kombucha.

 If only every day could be as productive and delicious!

Junk Jackpot

The maxim of "one man's trash is another man's treasure" was never truer, though in my case it could be refined to read "one CSA farm's metal grow hoops are another CSA farm's BEST FIND EVER!"

Ian's habit of constantly being within arm's reach of his phone drives me crazy.  However, his incessant cellphone use has finally paid off in spades. 

I have been eyeing new hoops for my box and pallet gardens all spring.  My hula hoops from last year did not hold up to the job but after pricing out their replacement with pvc or metal hoops, I could not justify the expense.  Especially, after we just replaced all the box gardens.

So, when BeetBox Farm, a local cooperative farm, advertised that they wanted to get rid of a bunch of metal grow hoops that they had outgrown, Ian responded immediately that we would gladly take them off their hands.  Alistair and I jetted over and I loaded them into the van.  Well, I loaded...Alistair occupied himself auditioning for the role of victim in a horror movie.  If I did not know about his aversion to his car seat, I would have thought that he had a substantial problem with my windfall of free metal grow hoops.

I might have left the farm with poorer mental health from listening to Alistair's screams but I was also many, many metal grown hoops richer.  What an incredible find!  I am thrilled and very thankful to BeetBox Farm for their generosity. 

I cannot wait to get my new hoops installed.  I have even started hardening off my seedling vegetables in order to get them ready for outdoor planting.

Inside.

Outside...well, in the garage at least.

The snow today is complicating matters slightly, but I will not be deterred!

The Mystery of the Rigour Mortis Hen

We had a very strange happening on the farm tonight.  It is quite common for me to have to lift the broody hens out of the nest boxes when I close everyone up for the night.  Moving broody hens is not particularly fun.  They are very protective of the unfertilized eggs they are "hatching".  Each night they put up a ruckus when I remove them from on top of their "babies" - squawking, pecking - it is a whole rigmarole.

"I dare you."

"You want my eggs?  You want MY eggs?!"

"Enter at your own risk"

"Look at this face.  Do you really want to put your hand in here?"

Usually, though, our broody hens are the brown ladies; they have the strongest nesting instinct.  Happily, my two broodiest are currently residing in a different coop with Beemster so I have had a reprieve from broody hen moving for the past few days.

Tonight, much to my surprise, I found a white hen in the nest boxes when I went to put the chickens to sleep.  Thinking nothing of it, pulled down my sleeves to protect my wrists from errant pecks, reached into the nest box, snatched her up and plopped her down on the coop floor.  And....nothing.

No pecks, no squawks, no movement of any kind.  In fact, she did not even move when I put her on the floor.  Usually, a dislodged hen gives an ornery feather ruffle to remind you that you are compromising her dignity and complicating her mission towards motherhood.  But, in this case...nothing.

It was only when I picked her up again, that I realized that despite still being warm, this white hen was as stiff as a board.  I was holding a very dead chicken.

Her cause of death remains a mystery.  There were no signs of trauma or distress.  This little lady died in her nest, curled up like she was asleep.  I suppose if there was a best way for a hen to go, this would be it.  It is certainly less traumatic than a journey to the stew pot.

Rest in peace dear white hen.  May you run on greener pastures, nest on softer hay, and raise as many white, fluffy chicks as your little chicken heart desires.

Gobble Gobble Down!

Once again, Ian was successful in bringing home our Winner! Winner! Turkey dinner!  He was on his way home with his catch by 6:05 am on opening day.  Hunter extraordinaire, indeed.

Liam was adamant about bringing the turkey's tail feathers to school to use as "hair" on the class' recycled robot project.  I wonder what his teachers and school friends thought when he pulled out a tea towel wrapped around 20 huge "fresh" feathers.  Ah well, part of life for a farm family, I suppose.  At least he has not (yet) started sharing the "real life" way lambs and goat kids are born.  I hear this is a common complaint farm parents receive when their kids attend suburban schools.  I will keep waiting for that phone call...

Artisan Kombucha Bread

I cleaned out our downstairs beer fridge the other day and much to my surprise, it contains substantially more bottled kombucha than it does beer.  It seems I am consistently producing more than I am consuming and so, it is time to find another use for the stuff.  Inspired by one of the brewing podcasts Ian listens to, I decided to try adding kombucha to my homemade bread recipe.

The result was spectacular: artisan kombucha bread.  It had a dark roasty colour, a lovely texture and a delicious flavour!

And does it ever make a scrumptious sandwich!

This one is a winner.  My CSA families can expect one of these beauties in their first baskets.

A Hoof Trimming, Macaroni Sticking, Garden Clipping Sort of Day

We kicked off the morning with a visit from Mr. Jeff, the farrier.  He gave Charlie a hoof trim.  As much as she does not typically like getting her nails done, Charlie knew that she was badly in need of a spring time pedicure.  She was very well behaved and I think, pleased with the outcome.  After he was done, Charlie went galloping off to the far side of the paddock to test out her new wheels (or hooves, as it were).

Mr. Jeff kindly offered to clip and file Seamus' nails too.  Seamus politely declined and explained that Mama does a good job of keeping his nails trimmed and neat.  I guess I can add "toddler farrier" to the various other hats that I wear.

Next Seamus and I tried to get some spring cleaning done in our flower beds.  They sure need it!

Yikes!

Alistair was having none of it though and we had to abort our garden clipping mission until nap time when I squeezed in some outdoor clean up while Seamus and Alistair snoozed.

Ah.  Much better.

As I was preparing lunch, Seamus undertook the Day #2 activity for the Independent Play Challenge that we are currently participating in.  We drew patterns on paper and then he arranged bow tie pasta to replicate the patterns.

Me: "Smile Seamus."

Seamus: "I can't smile Mama.  I am too busy!"

It was a busy day for everyone!

Cleanliness Above All Else?

Sir Topham Hatt's motto of "usefulness before cleanliness" does not seem to apply on Gael Glen Farm in the same way that it does on the Island of Sodor.  An inordinate amount of bathing occurred on the farm today and not much else.

The boys had outdoor "baths" to wash the winter grime off their toys to get them ready for spring.  This went swimmingly until they managed to turn the hose on full blast and super soakered each other with ice cold well water.  Brrr!

The (not so) broody hens spent the day having luxurious dust baths in the wood chips from the moisture absorbing pillow case pads that I removed from the bee hives yesterday.

Liam and Seamus concluded their day with a long, hot bubble bath.

At least no one can accuse us of being stinky around here - except Granby, of course.  He still reeks.

Boxing It In

We spent the long weekend redoing our box gardens in brand new, rough cut cedar planks.

We planned to start bright and early Friday morning but the ongoing downpour had resulted in the gardens sitting in a two inch mud puddle. By Sunday afternoon, we were out of time and so proceeded to work in this...

We got them done and a bunch of other things too: hoop gardens constructed, fruit trees pruned and sprayed, bee hives checked, asparagus patch cleaned up, chicken coop Granby-proofed, hay loft door latch repaired, kombucha bottled and brewed, bread baked, and hay bales moved.  And, of course, the requisite Easter egg hunt!

Whew! We need a weekend to recover from our weekend.

Hopeful, Inspiring, Sexy, Delicious & Adorable

There is nothing more...hopeful than an incubator full of fertilized eggs.

Thank you so much to Kyle and Shawn for lending us such an incredible incubator.

There is nothing more...inspiring than a trailer packed with rough cut cedar planks.

Materials for our Easter weekend garden project.

There is nothing more...sexy than a man with a chainsaw (except if that man is your father or brothers, of course, because...well...you know).

Ian's new tool.

There is nothing more...delicious than banana, oat, chocolate chip, peanut better, and marshmallow muffins.

At least according to Seamus.

There is nothing more...adorable than a sleeping baby.

Alistair having some snuggle naps.

Springing into Action

We started off the day with the goats springing loose from their barn.  Granby has figured out how to horn open the door latch.  It was a goat free-for-all!

While Ian was busy fixing the barn door, I was surprised by the spectacular oven spring in today's sourdough bread.  This was "cheat" sourdough made using 1/4 cup of sour flour added to my usual recipe.  This special flour was gifted to me by the lovely baker who makes the most delicious bread at the Carp bakery.  Thank you!

Later in the day Seamus and I agreed to Alistair's suggestion that we enjoy the spring weather by trying out the baby swing on the play structure.  Ali swung for 10 minutes (not bad for his first ever swing) and then promptly fell asleep.  Amazing. 

Seamus and I used the free time to weed all of the box and pallet gardens. 

In the midst of our clean up we found both a huge and furry mouse - eeks!  And a huge bunch of carrots that were still crispy and edible - score!

I was also able to get my first seeds directly into the ground.  In a pallet garden covered with plastic to make a mini greenhouse, I planted: endive, garland, spinach, chard, mescalin mix, red lettuce, arugula and radishes.  Woohoo!

We finished off the day with an incredible magenta sunset.  Not bad for one of the first days of spring.