Santa Can You Hear Me?

I wonder if Santa speaks Dog?  I know he speaks Reindeer so it is not such a stretch to think that he might.  Santa, if you can hear us, Charlotte desperately needs a new holiday sweater.  She has destroyed her current one to the point that it is no longer wearable.

She cannot go without a sweater as she compulsively licks a hot spot on her back when it is accessible.  And so, she has resorted to wearing Alistair's clothes - which she does not like and neither does he.

Ali: "Pretty sure that's my shirt you're wearing Charlotte."
Charlotte: "Don't remind me."

And so, Santa if you can hear us, please leave Charlotte something warm and cozy under the tree this year.  Both her and Alistair would be most grateful.

The 39th Milestone

It's my birthday and I can do what I want to, do what I want to, do what I want to.  You'd do it too if it happened to you!

On this most special of 39th birthdays, I want to drink tea and feast on smoked ribs, chocolate covered strawberries, and ice cream cake.  So I did.

Ali liked the cake!

Ian and the boys got me butterfly pea flower tea.
It's blue!

I did not want to do laundry.  So I didn't...even though I will undoubtedly live to regret that decision tomorrow.  In case you were wondering, I did not receive magical laundry gnomes for my birthday.  Sigh.

Me tomorrow when I face the dirty laundry pile.

Thank you to everyone who called, emailed, or sent a thoughtful gift.  I am certainly feeling loved.

The Great Canadian Tree Hunt

One of the best days of the year for me has always been Christmas tree hunting day.  As a teenager and then a young adult, my dad and I (and sometimes my mom, brother or Ian) would "hunt" a holiday tree on a sandlot in Dunrobin that belonged to one of my father's colleagues (with permission, of course).  It would be up to me to find the perfect tree while my dad dutifully trudged after me until I located it.  Then he would cut it down and lug it back - often times having to hoist it over a fence - to the car.  It was always a wonderful adventure.  I loved this holiday ritual and I cherish the memories still.

Now as a parent myself (with exactly zero sandlot owner connections of my own), we do our annual tree "hunting" at McGowan's Christmas Tree Farm.  Instead of being "the seeker", I now follow in my father's footsteps as "the trudger", shadowing my boys as they scout for the perfect tree.  McGowan's trees are undoubtedly fuller and more shapely than the "wild" ones I found with my dad but the joy in the excursion remains the same.

I love tree hunting day.  I can, in absolutely certainty, say that hell would have to freeze over before I would ever consider Christmas without a real tree.  Long live the holiday tree hunt!

Mint Tea for Three

On this relatively quiet Friday, the boys and I brewed up a pot of tea.  We mixed some loose leaf Darjeeling that Ian brought home from India with some of the chocolate mint leaves that we grew this past summer here on the farm.  

This combination made an exceptional pot of tea, which was only enhanced by the accompanying slice of Liam's cranberry-orange loaf with toasted walnuts, of course.  Friday afternoon tea does not get any better than this.

Invite a Paleontologist to Dinner Day

I would not say that we are particularly adventurous eaters but we are not squeamish either.  Even so, dinner today was a first for us.  We had gnocchi topped with squirrel and bacon sauce.

Ian has begun introducing Liam and Seamus to hunting. The boys are very eager to bond with their daddy over his love of this sport even though they will be too young to hunt themselves for several more years. They are much too fidgety to sit still and silent for turkey, goose or deer but rabbit and squirrel hunting are done while walking through the forest so these are perfect hunts for the boys to accompany Ian.

While Ian takes care of bringing home the meat, it is often my job to cook it up.  Squirrel meat is a relatively uncommon protein source in Canada, though not in other parts of the world.  There are tons of recipes online, with preparations similar to how one might cook rabbit, frog legs, or chicken.  We selected a Portugese inspired sauce made with lots of paprika and kale leaves that we snapped off the frozen plants still standing in our garden.  It was fantastic.

Like hasenpfeffer (german rabbit stew), squirrel dishes contain lots of very small bones.  We proposed to the boys to imagine that they were paleonologists digging for "dinosaur" bones in the "sand".  It worked like a charm.  They cleaned their plates and declared the squirrel and bacon sauce to be delicious.

I hope one day my boys travel the world and try all sorts of amazing and unconventional foods.  They are off to a promising start.  Tree rabbit just tastes like chicken, right?

A Good Long Rise

Some days hold nothing more exciting than a well risen loaf of bread.

In addition to making pitas, lately I have been experimenting with rise and baking times of my boules.  This loaf was made with 4 cups flour, 1 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp of yeast, and 1 1/2 cups warm water.  It rose for 24 hours at room temperature and then 24 hours in the fridge.  It was baked at 400 degrees F in a dutch oven for 35 min with the lid on and then an additional 20 minutes with the lid off.  Nice ear.  Fluffy texture.  Crunchy crust.  A success by all measures.

Mud, Mud & More Mud...Just Peachy

Ho!Ho!Ho! December's here.  Gael Glen Farm is full of cheer.

When you start the day off with a delicious chocolate treat from your very first Advent calendar,

and finish with a drive through the most Christmas lights we have ever seen in one place,

there is no doubt that the Christmas season is upon us.

Even if the middle of the day was spent living in a mud puddle.

Update: Mother Nature must have been listening when I complained about the mud because she sent Old Man Winter along overnight with a lovely dusting of snow for us.  Now it looks more like Christmas!

Is Charlie impressed with the snow?
I can't tell.
This is her "I want hay" face.

Pecky Becky is practising his one legged flamingo trick
(in full floof, of course).

Percy does not like snowy hooves.
She would rather prance around on the
milking stand getting very much in the way
while I am trying to milk Martha and Mellie
than risk getting even one delicate hoof
stuck in the muck.

A grey morning

turned into an orange afternoon.  Just peachy.