Fresh Eggs to Start the New Year!

Our flock has grown to 127 over the past year.  38 birds are scheduled to start laying in January and about 30 birds are headed to freezer camp in early February.  If the girls stay on schedule, I will fire up the incubator in February and try one last time to incubate my own birds.  My first incubator worked great for us and we had six successful hatches of chicks.  That incubator died and the two I have tried in the years since have not worked so well.  If this batch does not result in a good hatch then we will be buying pullets from here on out.

Our winter farmers market starts in two weeks - we should be in good shape to bring some fresh eggs!

Laundry

Everyone ends up with dirty clothes at the end of the day.  Of course when we are young, our parents take care of that not so small chore for us.  While I was in college and for a few years in my young adult life, I had to think about an hour or two at the laundromat, one often adjacent to an establishment that served adult beverages, to be sure I had enough clean clothes for the week.  Luckily as I earned a little more money and had larger apartments, I was able to install a washer and dryer in said apartments and it wasn’t more than 90 minutes between dirty and clean and ready to go out for the evening.

When a child joins your family, a dryer and or several drying racks and a washing machine are almost a necessity to ensure you aren’t spending an hour or two every other day at the laundromat.  This summer when my dryer decided that its 27 years were enough, we went without. Lucky enough to still have a washer, we strategically watched the weather, and on the best of days three or four loads were washed and hung on the line to dry.

Thankfully where we live, free on the side of the road, is a very real thing.  Just as fall started to close in, we found a dryer on the side of the road. The sign said, barely used, just doesn’t run.  According to the serial number, the unit was barely two years old. A little farmer’s ingenuity and an $7.00 part and we have an almost brand new dryer.

As a farmer, I can’t tell you how many extra loads of laundry I have done.  For instance, I came home from my off farm job - I work in a school lunch room, so there are various and sundry food bits, specs of grease, cleaning supplies, etc. that get on your ‘work’ clothes.  I changed out of those work clothes and into freshly laundered clothes that are oil, blood, dirt, etc. stained and far less presentable to go outside and work around the farm. My clean farm pants were quickly soiled with blood, water and fat dripping from the birds we harvested to clean out our chicken coop.  Birds that are no longer laying and too old to remain productive on the farm are loved and thanked for their service then added to our freezer to soon become chicken soup or chicken and biscuits.

While certainly not the cleanest job in the world, it was the least messy of those on the list today to start the afternoon.  Then it was out to the pigs pen to fix the hut which has lost two of its three walls over the past season to rubbing, scratching and otherwise playful pigs.  Shoveling mud, kneeling in old hay soaked with mud, and hunching under a collapsing roof to use your back and shoulders to lift a dusty roof rafter and support a leaning, dusty, and slightly muddy wall so that Little man’s father can re-bolt it together are not conducive to keeping your only slightly soiled farm clothing clean.

Then since the temperature is a lovely 57 degrees this evening, you have already made room in the newly constructed main chicken coop and there is still daylight left, why not go out and get the 40 birds from the pullet palace, band them and integrate those young ladies into the main coop.  Here in Northwestern Vermont, it has rained for four or better out of the seven days of the past couple of weeks. Anything that isn’t completely undercover - including the yard of the pullet palace and the pigs pasture - is completely saturated. This time of year should and could be called Vermont’s second mud season.  While not nearly as bad as the days that follow our first couple of thaws and spring rains, it comes a very close second. Catching chickens that are running around in a muddy chicken yard, holding them close to your body while you extend a leg and install a plastic band around its foot is not the cleanest job you can imagine on the farm.  Little man’s aunt came down to deliver him an early Halloween basket tonight. Since Little man, his father and I were completely covered in mud and only about half way through banding the newest birds to the farm, she didn’t stay long to visit.

When we were done, my clean farm clothes were no less that half soaked with mud, blood and dirt from a short afternoon’s worth of work on the farm.  The shoes and boots, in far worse shape then the clothes, were deposited on the back porch. Just inside the back door to the house reside the washer and dryer.  The clothes that all three of us were wearing didn’t make it more than five feet into the kitchen before we stripped them off and deposited them directly into the washer.  Showers were taken before dinner hit the table and clean pajamas kept us cozy as we filled our bellies and completed our evening.

As I bought my first washer and dryer for my second or third apartment, I never thought I would be washing the same set of clothes twice in one day or several times in one week.  Jackets were washed once or twice a year, not every week. Never did I think I would spend so much time thinking about laundry. But as your budget becomes snugly managed and several extra sets of clothes are not in the budget to carry you through to the next day at the laundromat, $7 parts and free on the side of the road have ensured that the rest of the farm projects will get done in moderately clean clothes and this mom can still be somewhat presentable at her off farm job.

These Hands

These hands started today much like any other, tucking in blankets around Little man who would sleep for two more hours after Mom was well into her day.  Last night these hands assisted in the birth of three of nine piglets; even though towels and rags were involved, these hands were colored red before the six healthy piglets were settled in for the night.  A thorough washing with soap, bleach and water, these same hands tucked that Little man into bed last night.  Downstairs to washing some dishes, feeding the indoor animals and emptying the trash.  Washed with soap and water, brushed teeth and hair, change of clothes and hand lotion applied, these hands skillfully maneuvered the car to the feed store.  Feed and hydraulic fluid paid for; these hands loaded them into the car and headed back home.

A quick sweep of the kitchen floor, a load of dishes into the dishwasher and some more hand lotion - these hands hugged her Little man and headed outside.  Grabbing gloves, the battery powered drill, the screws and a bottle of water; these hands went to put up a few more arches on the high tunnel.  The tractor wasn't big enough and Mother Nature added her ample supply of rain - these hands moved jacks, 4x4's, and concrete blocks.  Amidst the rain, three arches are raised instead of eight.  These hands clean up the tools, move the mud from tractor parts where it doesn't belong and start doing chores.  

While still wearing gloves, these hands collect chicken eggs, water and feed the chickens and rabbits and remove the gloves only to gain tactile advantage on the bag of feed that was inadvertently placed under the one spot that leaks in the shed roof.  Un-gloved hands clean up the ruined feed, placed the salvaged feed into a clean 5-gallon pail and head for the stump to stoke the fire that amazingly remains aglow after all of the storms that rolled through today.  Forgetting the gloves, burnt chunks of wood are rearranged and the fire burns strong again.  Black with charcoal these hands head over to the hose, grabbing a splash of car wash soap, the hands get a quick rinse before finishing chores for the evening.    Over to the pigs, who have moved their feed buckets into the muddiest, wettest, slimiest part of their saturated spring paddock.  The gloves are completely soaked so these hands delve into the mud to relocate feed dishes and rinse out water dishes to ensure that all of the swine start with a clean meal - though they don't finish it that way.  Ear scratches, tummy rubs and rearranging hay; these hands exit the pig pen in a lovely shad of muddy brown.

Back over to the hose for another splash of car wash, these hands show a few shades of pink amidst the stained cracks of black and grey.  A few tosses of the baseball and some misjudged kicks of the soccer ball; these hands are brown again before they get another great hug from Little man before heading inside to prepare dinner.

Some baking soda, some warm water and some soap are generously applied to these hands for several minutes to ensure they are bacteria free - if not pink and clean - before dinner prep begins.  Everyone gets fed and then it is back outside to put the chickens to bed for the night, close up the rabbits, re-stoke the fire (of course without gloves) and put the farm to bed for the evening.

These hands trim Little man's hair, prepare a quick dessert and ready him for the land of slumber.  After he is settled, copious amounts of hand lotion, some more soap, water and bleach this time are applied in hopes of making these hands somewhat presentable for work in the morning.  They look OK, not great, but OK when the pigs start squealing - one has gotten stuck in the fence between the new piglets and its regular pasture.  Back outside - without taking even half a moment to think about gloves - the six month old piglet is freed from its fence entanglement, the pants which were once tan are now several shades of brown and the hands that might have passed for normal have returned to those of the overtired farm woman and mother who sometimes has an off-farm job.

A thorough scrubbing and some more hand lotion later - these hands set down just after this picture to write this blog post.  In a moment they will get yet another bath, a lathering of lotion and some old white cotton gloves so they can settle in for the night in hopes of resembling a plain old calloused hand in the morning.  But, with all the abuse and chores and tender-loving care these hands both receive and dish out - behind them is a farm woman who wouldn't change all that comes with these tired, dry, cracking, stained hands - for anything else in the world!

The other season

For those who don't live in the northern states, the 'other' season doesn't carry much meaning.  Here in northern Vermont, as soon as the temperatures rise and the welcomed melt begins - so does MUD season.  It happens mostly at the end of winter and right before spring.  It can however come before spring, continue into the middle of spring leave for a little while and come back at the beginning of summer or just decide to stay around for weeks.  The decision on whether to keep your winter boots handy or whether to switch entirely to the less insulated mud boots is never an easy one.  Head out for a project in just the mud boots and your toes freeze, wearing your winter boots could cause your feet to overheat or the water could be deep enough that the liners get soaked and you can't wear your boots for three days while they dry.  Today I chose the winter boots.  The water and mud hadn't gotten too deep and I was able to haul brush for burning, collect some dead wood in hopes of drying out the still frozen fire pit and bring feed and hay to the pigs all with warm and still dry feet.

All of the melting we have had in the past week is very welcome.  It taught me yet another lesson - don't put your snow piles in the middle of your spring drainage paths.  My driveway slants eastward and draining water typically flows off the side of the gravel before it makes it down to the house but when temperatures quickly rise into the upper 50's and the snow banks haven't yet melted, a winter's worth of frozen driveway heads straight for your garage.  Because you put your snow piles in the way of where that water would normally flow, you have to go chip and shovel ice so that you can keep the water flowing past your garage and down the hill.  Next year I will not put the snow piles in the same spot as this year and I will be shoveling the spring drainage paths after each snow storm.

Most of the ice in the driveway has melted and there are several spots of brown grass poking through the remaining snow pack.  With the sun out and the mud arriving this farmer headed out to start working on her high tunnel.  The post went exactly six inches into the ground before refusing to budge any further and now it is stuck, frozen in the ground.  At least that is six more inches than what I had before I started today.  We are still waiting on baby chicks, it looks like the boys were not as successful as they appeared to have been.  Tomorrow will include more outside work and perhaps taking a few minutes to restore my minivan from farm vehicle full of hay, tools, fencing and who knows what else, back to a passenger vehicle.

Farming is a passion - often unrequited

They say that farming is in your blood.  While I didn't have much of an opportunity to farm with my family when I was young - the last of the dairy farm was being put to bed when I arrived on this earth - the farm itself stayed in the family.  I played in the barn, I got under foot of the farm hands that were still haying, I played in the pastures with the heifers that remained here, I caught salamanders in the ponds, I made forts in between boulders and next to hand stacked stone walls, I slept on the floor of a handmade cabin at the south end of the lake and went potty in the woods, even in the rain.  Those are just a few of the things that are in my blood.

I have been homesteading and slowly growing a vegetable, livestock and Christmas tree farm on my families land for almost ten years.  I tried to fit in infrastructure projects, livestock care, weeding, watering, planting, baking, canning and farmers markets with a full time job, a terrible pregnancy which gave me the most wonderful Little man.  As he grows there are t-ball practices and games, soccer practices and games, cub scouts, etc.  The dream of farming has taken a side seat, a back seat or all too often gets relegated to the back of the trailer whose wheels are falling off.

Last summer I made the VERY difficult decision to leave a career that I loved, working with people that I both loved and admired and a profession whose dedication is unwavering, in order to spend more time on the farm.  I miss them terribly.  

The first few months were a huge adjustment.  Learning a new part time job, taking on a second part time job since the cut in pay was more than my budget could absorb but giving up much of that extra time that was supposed to be spent on the farm, and trying to sell summer piglets who were eating me out of house and home.  Then winter arrived far too early and best laid plans of erecting a high tunnel in November have become hoping to get it completed by the end of March.

Farming is a passion and in order to be successful, many things have to take a back seat.  We don't travel, we don't take family vacations more than a few miles away from the farm, it has been more than two years since I have bought myself a new pair of pants or even some desperately overdue new shoes.  Little man needs food, warmth, and clothing; the animals need bedding and feed; the car insurance and light bill need to be paid, the car needs fuel and perhaps if there is anything leftover then maybe we can grab a takeout pizza or sandwiches once every other month or so.  It has been a difficult winter, one which was not completely unexpected, but one that makes this farmer question - far too often - whether she made the right decision.

Spring is four days away - at least chronologically if not meteorologically.  The chicks are scheduled to hatch this weekend and this past weeks thaw proves that there is actually still grass under the white which has blanketed the ground for the past five months.  It will be lean, but this farmer will be working hard to make a go of it over the next nine months.

A winter of firsts

This winter has been a little harder than most on the farm.  Normally we are outside for most of the season working on various projects, but this years weather has been harsh.  When temperatures are tolerable in the single digits, the winds have been blowing a gale causing fingers to go numb quickly.  Pounding posts for the greenhouse has been impossible as the January thaw which usually has us outside with our first campfire didn't show up this year.  But alas, when you can't get outside, you work on other projects.  It has been a winter of firsts - but definitely not lasts.

Our chickens have continued to lay, despite the weather and we got our first blue egg this weekend.















I tried a new flavor of jelly - plum apple.  It is beautiful in the jar and even more delicious on toast.

We attended our first winter farmers market last week and we did pretty well.








Spring does promise to arrive eventually and temperatures are creeping closer to tolerable each week.  Today I will clean out and ready the brooder box, baby chicks are scheduled to arrive this weekend.

Don't do what I did

They say that you learn something new everyday - that certainly holds true on this farm.  Yesterday I learned that when I decide to build something, I need to take into account more than just - here is an empty spot, let's put it here.

Mother Nature gifted the farm with about two feet of snow last weekend.  Then she delivered a beautiful cleansing rain four days later.  We were reasonably prepared and had cleared snow away from primary drainage areas and dug out fences and waterers to ensure that we could both get to and leave the farm as well as get to and feed all the critters.  All except the rabbits.

A little better than a year ago someone dumped sixty or so rabbits on the side of the road in cold, rainy/snowy weather.  Some were just kits while others were older breeding stock.  I was lucky enough to be able to rescue most of them.  They were placed into temporary holds in the garage until I could build them a new shed.  I had rabbits in my garage once - I won't be doing that again.  We left an overhang of a couple of feet on both sides of the storage shed roof when it was built to store tools and supplies outside, but still protected from the weather.  I took one of those overhangs and with the help of Little man's father and a friend, threw up some walls, added a door and made a small shed to house the rabbits.

When siting the door, I figured in the middle of the long wall would provide the best access to the cages that would go inside.  What I didn't consider is that the snow from the entire south facing roof would drop right in front of that door.  The ground in front of the door was also a little higher than the bottom of the door so I dug out some of the soil in front of it to provide some additional clearance.  This was fine for three of the four seasons of the year, but when you combine a recessed landing in front of the door, rain and snow collect there.  When you get close to two feet of snow, you have to shovel both what fell on the ground and what fell off the roof out from that recessed landing in order to access the rabbits.  Then when it rains in January, it inevitably gets cold again and the standing water in front of the door freezes.  If you don't want your rabbits to go hungry you have to chip all the ice from in front of the door so that you can get inside your shed.  Chores that should have taken 15 - 20 minutes took almost an hour last night.

As I began construction of the new brooder coop for the baby chickens that will arrive on the farm this spring, I spent plenty of time looking at snow drifts, checking side and rear clearances and trying to think of every access and weather implication.  I am certain I didn't think of something, but at least this next piece of farm infrastructure stands a much better chance of being trouble free.

Never challenge Mother Nature!

Not too long ago I wrote about challenging Mother Nature and moving forward with my plans, to hell with the weather and all that she had planned.  Well, She answered back in a BIG way.

This summer challenged this farm with a 50 year drought.  Wells and springs that were plentiful ran dry, including the one on this farm.  Thankfully the generations before had provided backup systems that allowed this farm to provide water for its two and four-legged residents alike.   As fall came to a close and an earlier than usual winter closed in with ice-in on the lake a full week earlier than any that this farm had ever recorded, the rains came and the spring brought forth water once again.  The pipe that runs from the spring to the well has sunk and the gravity feed which was once reliable has become an every other day appointment to re-prime.  Family intervention brought a new drilled well with a gallon per minute source of water to feed the homestead.  Unfortunately, the drilling came a week too late and the ground has frozen so that the ditch from the well to the house will wait until spring before pipe can be laid.  No matter the weather and no matter the to-do list, the appointment with the spring will be kept every day for the next four months to ensure that human and critter alike will have plenty of water.

In August the boar broke through the fence and began romancing the sows.  This homesteader thought little more of it than to record the date in her calendar, just-in-case.  Well three months and three weeks later – and earlier this evening – while feeding, watering and providing extra hay, she noticed that one particular sow appeared to be coming into milk.  In three days or less, while evening temperatures are forecast to be below zero, we will – in all likelihood, be having December piglets.  An extra trip to the grain store, a few extra hours in the pigs pen shoring up housing and wind protection, running some new electric fence, and probably more than a few hours of lost sleep over the next few days; there will, hopefully, be a successful delivery.  All of the piglets from this summer remain on the farm.  Mother Nature answered my challenge in no small fashion.

Thursday, amidst snow squalls and falling temperatures, the high tunnel arrived.  I certainly was dreaming to think that the freight company would pull into the dooryard and plop a 30 x 72 high tunnel, completely constructed and ready for compost delivery, onto the site which is only slightly prepared for it.  Dreaming it was.  The truck who delivered her got stuck twice on the flat part of the driveway.  Were it not for my fantastic cousin, the truck would probably still be in the door yard.   The pallet she came on was only partially intact; the load was collapsing even before we came close to it with the tractor forks.  Patience, experience and some wire cutters were what was required to make a quick delivery into just over 90 minutes work.  Some more skilled tractor work and a strong chain to extricate the truck and trailer from the dooryard were required and now the pieces/parts rest on my front lawn.

Finally, tomorrow marks the close of muzzleloader season in Vermont.  The evening after rifle season closed – less than 24 hours – this beautiful (although the picture is quite blurry) eight-point buck posed about 75 yards off the front deck.  I am certain that he acquired a calendar from the local grain store and checks off the days of hunting season.  I expect around 5:00 tomorrow night, he will visit again knowing that he has made it safely through another season.

The balance of this weekend will be spent with family over coffee in the morning, shoring up pig housing, running some new electric fence, bringing in a pile of fresh, warm bedding in anticipation of farrowing, posting sales of pork at rock-bottom prices, staking out where the posts will go for the high tunnel, recycling the old greenhouse plastic into both swine housing and tarping for the new high tunnel parts.  All the while Christmas tree sales will thankfully continue, and in between all of the above, hopefully I might find some time for a little house cleaning, getting ready for the upcoming week of off-farm work and school, and, perhaps, a load of laundry or three in there somewhere.

I said, “Challenge accepted.”

It appears her response was - 

“OK Lady, Buckle Up!  It’s going to be a bumpy ride!”

November snow - Challenge accepted!

Critters, both two and four legged alike, are confused by the weather on the farm this week.  On Friday, Mother Nature blessed us with a foot of beautiful white powder.  Certainly early for the season and reminiscent of winters 35 years past, it has been both a gift and a chore.

The Canadian geese were as puzzled as I as they gathered at the south end of the lake.  The 'cocktail party' that typically ensues at the end of October during their annual migration was alive and well this mid-November evening amidst Mother Nature's fresh coating of white.  Chores, usually assisted by the child's wagon found free on the side of the road, were completed these evening by plastic sled carrying feed and water to the pigs.  

That same sled, after chores, carried the almost seven year old down the hill and driveway more times than fingers could count, giggles and full bodied laughter echoing behind as the sled went over the snow bank into the Christmas trees.

The first tree of the season was cut today and left the farm in the care of a young family who travel a lot for the holidays and asked to come and get theirs early so as to enjoy as much of their own season as possible before visiting their extended family across the country.

Our early season covering of white has made the ensuing construction of the high tunnel all that much more interesting and predicted low temperatures of single digits below zero on Monday aren't helping.  Sore muscles from regular chores and maintenance on the farm scream just a little louder as shoveling has become a necessary addition to ensuring all the critters have fresh, thawed water and feed.  This farmer remembered how to plow, albeit not a very pretty job, after better than 30 years away from being behind the wheel of a plow truck.

While chores may take a little longer and the grand plans for the coming season may be delayed a little - this farm moves forward.  Challenges have been laid down.  Perhaps the plow truck will clear the spot for the greenhouse instead of the 70 year old tractor.  School is out this week and this farmer has a chance to make a dent in some of her long overdue projects.  Mother Nature has laid down her challenge with a solid covering of the white stuff. 

To quote one of those popular movies that came out in the last few years - 

"Challenge accepted!"

Infrastructure & not so fixed pigs fence

If there is one lesson, word of wisdom, gem of information, tidbit of knowledge that I can pass on to a new farmer; it is infrastructure.  Spend your time and money on it.  Get it in place before you add new critters or gardens or crops.  The time and money that you spend in the beginning will save you hours later down the road.

This homesteading/farming adventure began when Little man's father brought home seven chickens.  We had discussed getting chickens to have some meat and eggs for our own personal use.  Discussed it.  One day he arrives home with seven of them in his car.  There was no place to put them.  They could have stayed in his car, anyone who knows him knows that he probably wouldn't notice livestock in the passenger compartment along with all manner of other stuff that he accumulates there.  But a car is obviously not the best living situation for a chicken so we scrounged around and found some plywood and a couple of old 2x4's and we made a small chicken coop for them.  

That was the beginning of the homestead style projects that have happened here.  Each of the pig huts are made from salvaged materials.  My shed is made from mostly salvaged material.  Two of the three greenhouses that we had were made from salvaged windows, plywood and bricks.  Our fencing was reclaimed from the farmer who leased this land before me and had beef cows here.  And the piglet's fence (some woven wire portable fence with step in posts) was bartered for from a friend two towns over.

Our salvaged/bartered for/hobbled together fencing has not held up to 11 pigs.  It has kept them in, but as they get bigger and the rains have turned their pasture into a very large mud yard, it hasn't stood up to their desire to find more palatable ground.  The fence posts are beginning to rot causing sections of the fence to ground out.  Woven wire without sufficient power to deter impatient piglets is nothing more than a big chew toy.

Yesterday's attempts at fixing the fence were successful until I put the fence tester on the wires.  The exterior fence was plenty strong, but the woven wire was grounding out in the mud somewhere.  I had traced and replaced the wire, checked for breaks and frays, and fought eight 200 lb piglets in the process.  When I thought I finally had it all repaired and back in place, the wind picked up.  Three to six inch deep mud is not strong enough to hold the fence against 35 mph wind gusts.

In between electrical work on the old tractor and site work for the new hoop house, I will be running new fence for the pigs this weekend.  They aren't happy being all mixed together, but at least no one is in heat right now!  Let's hope that between Little man's father and I, we managed to save the fence post insulators that came off the old fence posts and that at least one of the two chainsaws hasn't been beaten up too bad by Christmas tree brush that it can be used to cut fence posts.

One more thing that I recommend keeping in running order - your washing machine!

Rain, mud and fences

This summer was one of the driest summers in more than two decades.  The ponds at the top of our driveway were almost completely empty.  The farm ran out of water in July – thanks to my grandfather’s foresight we have a back up supply.  The lack of water made the ground pretty hard but we managed to install the piglet’s electric netting fence in the hard, dry ground using a little extra elbow grease and a heavy hammer.

Four weeks ago it started to rain again.  It has rained for two to five days out of each week for the past month.  Our ponds are full again and the ground water is slowly rising to where the farm has a nominal supply of water if we are careful.  While we are thankful to have the rain to replenish the water supply; it makes a pile of mud.  Livestock, especially our pigs and chickens, tend to stir up only the first two to six inches of dirt leaving hard packed earth underneath.  The recent rains have only penetrated the ground so far creating two to six inches of mud.  Pigs also love to root.  Where they have changed the layout of the topsoil, the water has tendency to settle instead of runoff where it traditionally had.

“Mom, I think there is a problem with the pig’s fence.  Cole is in the piglet’s hut.”

All the rain we have had lately and the resulting mud are grounding out our electric netting making it difficult to keep the pigs where they belong.  Changes in the grade of the ground in the pasture caused by pigs doing what pigs do has caused some water issues in their huts as well.

Instead of working on the site work for the new high tunnel this afternoon, my adventures will include going out in the pouring rain, separating piglets from boars and sows, and seeing if their fence can be repaired.  I will also continue working on the drainage around their huts.  This work is done by hand, with a shovel since working on the electrical system of the tractor in the rain probably isn’t the smartest idea.

Here’s hoping my new jacket and my washing machine can stand up to yet another afternoon of pouring rain and slick mud.

I think I will go vote first while I am still dry.

Piglets - finally - and cautiously throwing caution to the wind.

The history of pigs on this farm is very similar to the history of the next generation of this farm.  I can't say whether my great-grandparents played safe bets or whether they were gamblers of the truest sense.  I know that my great-grandmother worked too hard, often on the farm alone with hired hands and a team of twelve horses in her hand while my great-grandfather was off chasing his next business venture.  I am eternally grateful for her hard work and that of her sons, since I am afforded the opportunity to show my son what it is like to live in this tiny corner of northern Vermont.  The history of pigs on this farm has been a balance of safe bet versus, 'you have got to be kidding me, I am five months pregnant, I can't take care of piglets!'

Much like the the first chickens that Little Man's father brought home, the first piglets arrived with a hobbled together pig hut, some scrap lumber, an old carpet and a couple of pallets stood on end.  They arrived in a dog kennel in the back of a minivan and we managed to keep them alive, raise them amazingly well for not knowing what we were doing and provided almost 400 lbs of pork for ourselves and to trade with for beef and hay. The next set arrived with only slightly better accommodations, but at least one year's experience under our belt.  Although the first two were a welcome surprise, the second two were planned for even if we had no real idea of the scope of raising pigs to pork on pasture.  Our first pig illness hit during the summer of our second two pigs, alongside a visit from my step-children.  You learn fast when a recent farm transplant is looking up at you with big eyes as night is beginning to fall, your infant is screaming for you to feed him and your young pig is down in the field with a raging fever.

From there we rescued a sow who was bound for sausage.  We thought long, read a lot and then tempted fate with a terribly unsuccessful artificial insemination.  Our poor sow even ended up having a false pregnancy going so far as to get big, fill with milk and then - nothing.  After spending some serious change for this little farm on mail order sperm, I was hooked on pigs and wagered on a new boar.  One from the same heritage as our sow.

I drove three hours to lower New York state, spent better than half a weeks paycheck and brought home an eight week old, heritage breed boar from one of the best reputed breeders around.  Zeb was carefully raised and he tried his darndest, but the sow was too old and never got pregnant, no matter how hard he tried.  She was pretty old, so she filled our freezer.

Six months later, I purchased a gilt from friends two towns over.  I was determined to make this pig operation work here on the farm.  We waited until the time was right, took down the electric fence between Zeb and Little One and let nature take its course.  Well the first heat cycle passed, and not for Zeb's lack of trying, but there was no pregnancy.  Then the same farm we got Little One from had a sow that they were going to send for sausage; instead they delivered her to us and we were thrilled to have an opportunity for Zeb's good lines to meet with Sally's and for certain we would have spring piglets.  21 day cycle, after 21 day cycle - each time we were met with the girls in heat.  Although he was trying Zeb was just not getting the job done.

In December I had seen the posts about some boars for sale in lower Vermont.  I already had a boar, so I glossed over them hoping my girls were growing their next generation.  When heat came again in January, after the girls had been with Zeb for almost four months, I knew, for certain, that there was a problem.  I only assumed that problem was Zeb.  Two weeks later, that fateful Facebook post popped up again in my news feed.  The two boars were still available.

It was late at night in January and I tempted fate, almost 11:00 p.m., I messaged the seller.  He immediately responded and told me that both boys were still available and that they were only about 225 lbs.  I jumped on the opportunity, talked with him over a couple of days and we made an arrangement for a payment and then scheduled a weekend where I could travel down to get him.  Then the weather turned.  We couldn't have a second boar on the farm without the two of them fighting and there was too much snow on the ground to get Zeb from the pasture to the freezer without serious excavation.  It looked like my impulse was all for naught and there would never be piglets on this farm.  Well, the following weekend the weather turned, my cousin was available with the big tractor, a friend could come and help with the major parts and my mom could come and help with the packaging and labeling.  It was a sad day as the pig with the longest history with us was no longer.  The one pig I had figured as the future of my life here on the farm was being relegated to the chest freezer.

The following night I put a plywood wall between the second row of seats and the rear of the minivan, put a tarp on the floor and added a third of a bale of hay.  Saturday morning, I drove 100 miles south into the unknown and completely on a whim and loaded a 300 lb boar into the back of my minivan.

We got him home, and although it appeared he was trying his hardest - he was too small to effectively breed Sally and Little One wanted nothing to do with him.  I was concerned that I had spent far too much money and far too much time on another failed piglet venture.  Each month I watched as  at least one of the two of them appeared to come into heat.  When the heat stopped,  I saw no signs of pregnancy.  I bought a doppler ( I now know I spent far too little money on too cheap of a unit) only to hear nothing week after week.

Little man's father and I were having serious discussions about who was going to go into the freezer first.  Too many months with no visible signs of pregnancy, an ever increasing feed bill and a significant lack of cash flow.  I said to him - the one time I was spontaneous, threw caution to the wind and tried something just a little crazy and now I have to consider how much room there is in the freezer and that we might be done, completely done with pigs on the farm.  I was heart broken.  But the fateful day, 3 mos, 3 weeks and 3 days from the last confirmed heat cycle were just a week away.  We would wait two more weeks before we made a final decision.

Little One did not disappoint, although I was sure that Sally was the one that would be delivering first if it was at all possible that she was pregnant.  After a night of violent thunderstorms, Little One was in the pasture, pulling down old fence posts to make a nest in the hut.  She would eat, drink, then tear out another piece of fence and try to fit it into the hut.

Exactly one week after arriving on the farm, Cole did his job, and three months, three weeks and three days after that, the first piglets to be born on this farm arrived.  Eight were born and seven survived.

One week later Sally started grabbing some of those same fence posts and pulling them into the other hut.  Unfortunately her labor was not so successful - six piglets were born but only two survived.  Almost five months later we have eight healthy 'piglets.'  They remain for sale as breeding stock or as Christmas roasts.

This level-headed, normally cautious, list-building woman threw caution to the wind an bought a boar, sight-unseen, on facebook late on a Tuesday night.  Then she followed through, actually went down and got him in the back of a minivan!!  Perhaps this woman should learn to be a little more spontaneous.  She has learned not to be so cautious.  She will attempt a little more risk and sense of adventure... 

On a whim she called the National Resource Conservation Service (NRCS) about a grant for a high tunnel.  The deadline was the following day - she scrambled, applied and was awarded a grant for a high tunnel.  She now has 90 days to get the tunnel constructed and the plastic on.  Did she mention that it is the beginning of November and it snowed two days ago...

Time to jump in - to hell with the consequences!

Only one thing crossed off the to-do list today

Sometimes the end of the day comes and I look at my list and I may have only crossed off one thing and some days I don't cross off anything.  As a person who makes lists, not crossing anything off is pretty disheartening.  I look around at the end of the day and try to figure out where it went.

Today I started to work on rabbit waterers when Little man's father came inside and said that his car was stuck in the driveway.  To some that would seem strange, but our driveway is a little better than a third of a mile long with a hill flanked on either side at the top by two ponds.  Sometimes you head for the ditch to ensure you don't sink your car in either pond.  Thankfully he was only stuck in a three foot snow drift.  After several tries and some sheer determination I managed to get his car up the hill (not on the list).  While I was spinning and sliding, he took care of the rabbit water bottles.

Inside to warm up and pour myself a cup of coffee, I looked at my list and decided where to begin.  There is squash in the back room that froze in the double digit below zero temperatures that we had last week.  Since the temperatures for the end of the week are predicted to be well above freezing, I started there so we wouldn't lose the squash (on the list).  I needed a clean sink and a clear kitchen table; dishes washed and counters disinfected.  Some play time with Little man and a couple of emails answered (not on the list), then I went to the back room to retrieve the squash.  

Our back room is very cool most months of the year and will usually only dip below freezing during the coldest of weather.  I will often set leftovers or the carcass from the chicken we had for dinner last night out there to cool while keeping it safe from our four-legged family members.  I grabbed that along with the squash and returned to the kitchen.  I washed, cut, and scooped out the seeds from the squash and put the first couple of them in the oven.  Then I stripped the chicken from the carcass (some for chicken sandwiches and some for chicken and biscuits later in the week) and added it to a pot on the stove for broth (not on the list).  I pulled the squash I had cooked two days ago out of the refrigerator, processed it and put it into two cup bags for the freezer.  

I had one lonely cup of butternut squash leftover.  Hmm, I don't have much for afternoon snack so I took to the internet and made a modified version of this butternut squash apple bread.  It was delicious!  If I am lucky there might be two slices left for snack for Little man and I to take with us tomorrow (not on the list).


Two more batches of squash were cooked and set on the counter to cool.  In between I took the seeds that I wanted to save, washed them and set them on labelled paper towels to dry over the next couple of weeks (not on the list).   Some lunch, play time with Little man and a few more emails dealt with, another batch of dishes done and it was back to processing the squash I had just cooked while I added the next variety to the oven.

Little man's father came in and asked for some help with changing the tires on his car.  I was busy, but figured my time would be better spent helping this afternoon then trying to unstuck a car again in the wee hours of tomorrow morning.  A little play time outside before the snow squalls came and forced us back inside.  Some more dishes, some more squash, some paperwork, a little business accounting and another set of seeds set to dry (not on the list).

Dinner was easy tonight as we had leftovers in the freezer I wanted to use up to make room for all this squash.  Afternoon/evening chores assisted with and a last check of emails for the evening.  A blog post written and then to some quality time with family before dinner (not on the list).  

I checked the list before heading into the living room and realized that after all that I had accomplished today I had only crossed one thing off my list.  There remains a pile of squash in the back room that should have been moved to the cellar before the below freezing temperatures.  Lesson learned.  Tonight, eggs will be washed for a regular customer, more dishes done, some more playtime then showers, teeth brushed, stories read and a Little man tucked in (not on the list).  After Little man and his father have retreated to dream-land, I will try to cross one more item off the list.  The goal remains that by the end of the week at least two thirds of the items are crossed off.  Each week is a new challenge, but I continue moving forward.

Testing seed germination

I have been saving seeds for the past six or seven years.  Much of what I choose to grow are heirloom varieties so the seeds that come from those plants can be saved from one year too the next.  After I collected all the seeds that I saved from this fall, I went to add them to my seed stash.  My brown paper bag that I had begun with more than five years ago was finally torn beyond it's holding capacity. I went out to the greenhouse to collect the cardboard box that I had some other seeds stored in and found that it too had seen many years of abuse.  Then as I turned to head back to the house I saw the brown paper lunch bags where I had collected flower heads, sitting on yet another surface.  It was time for some organization.

I went in search of another box or bag that would work,  I knew there was a shoe box around somewhere, but since the full size brown paper grocery bag was overflowing, I thought I should look for something bigger.  Any container too much bigger wasn't going to fit in the cabinet where I have stored my seeds for a long time.  In my search I found yet another grocery bag full of seeds that were saved by my mother-in-law and her boyfriend.  After they passed I was blessed with the collection.  Some old heirloom corn grown by the Native Americans and  seeds from her boyfriend's homestead in Maine - many undated, some just collected in the outer wrapper of a cigarette package and tucked into the bag.  I  needed two boxes.  After about 20 minutes of searching for the perfect cardboard box, I found a three drawer plastic storage bin in the wood shop.  Two of the drawers were already empty.  I washed off years of sawdust and cobwebs and set to work.

Any seed less than five years old whose packaging was in good shape was inventoried and placed in alphabetical order into a storage drawer  Anything older, with a damaged package or unidentified in a paper bag, glass jar or cigarette wrapper, was added to the original falling apart paper bag to be tested for germination.  Round about mid November I was in between soccer and fall yard clean up, I pulled out some snack bags, some paper towels, a permanent marker and ten seed packets.

Ten paper towels were removed from the roll, moistened and placed on a dinner plate.  From the first seed packet I extracted ten seeds.  If all of them germinated then I had 100% germination rate.  If only two germinated then I had a 20% germination rate.  I rolled the seeds into the moistened paper towel, placed the roll into a snack bag and carefully labeled each bag with the information from the seed packet, including the year.  I set the filled plate in a warmish corner of the kitchen and let them simmer for seven days.  A few sets of tests went to ten days, but those got a little moldy so I tried to keep subsequent tests to seven days.  

It took about eight weeks to get all of the questionable seeds tested.  Amazingly enough, some of the seeds from 2006 still germinated.  Many did not.  Those that were cleaned and dried well had great germination rates.  Some that were just tossed into a bag and stapled remain as yet unidentified, but if they germinated at 80% or better, I kept them anyway.  I was going to throw away everything that didn't grow, but Little man's father asked me to keep them.  He is going to take a corner somewhere with good soil, till it up and dump everything that was left into it and see what happens.

New Years Morning

This how I spent my New Year's morning!  

Cup of coffee in one hand, catalogs in the middle and list in the other.  

We are going to try a couple of new varieties of vegetables and will be trying lettuce one more time.  In twenty years of gardening I haven't been able to successfully grow lettuce without it bolting on me.  Worst case scenario, I will tie up some garden space a few dollars worth of seeds -  best case, I might have learned something after twenty years!

Happy New Year!

A toast to everyone for the New Year - Wishing all of you prosperity, abundance and good health for the year ahead.  From all of us at Wandering Moose Farms!

What to make for dinner?

Post was written on 12/30/17 & posted the following day:
I have made several attempts at meal planning and I am successful for a month or so at a time and then I fail miserably.  This weekend is no exception to the latter.  Most of my day was spent off the farm and while exceptionally productive, not much got done here.  Once I returned, Little man and I spent an hour crossing one item off my ever growing to-do list and then he came over and said, "Mom, what's for dinner?"

"I don't know, buddy, but I will figure it out?"  

Fortunately we have a wonderful problem - the freezers are full with both freshly frozen and leftover frozen meals, components, vegetables and other assorted combinations of the above.  I manage to stock the basics - onions, potatoes, spices, celery - most of the time, this week was of course an exception.  I had two potatoes, three onions - one of which I could use the tops for a salad, six mushrooms, and about three stalks of barely salvageable celery.  

I opened the freezer and stared at various packages of un-identifiable frozen proteins.  While I am pretty good at marking whatever I put in there, Little man's father isn't so diligent.  He was playing cards with Little man at the kitchen table so a pop quiz ensued while five packages of unknown proteins (I am pretty sure they were proteins) were placed on the table in front of him.  From those packages, a three ounce leftover grilled steak and a six ounce portion of roast beef were identified and placed in warm water to defrost.

The mushrooms, celery, and one onion were sliced and added to a pan with some butter.  Minced garlic from the refrigerator and the two potatoes, diced were added.  A 2-cup bag of stock was removed from the back freezer and added to another pan to return to liquid form.  A little salt, pepper and some dried oregano were added to the simmering veggies.  The beef, still semi-frozen, diced easily and was set aside.  In the meantime I threw together a pie-crust, and after five minutes of looking for my rolling pin because I didn't put it back where it belonged, I lined the pie plate that my mother gave me when I moved into my first apartment now almost 25 years ago.  The chicken stock, beef, a few ounces of mixed, frozen vegetables and some cornstarch were added to the mix.  About that time, Little man's father came into the kitchen and asked me what smelled so good - I must have been doing something right.

From a combination of sad looking ingredients I managed to pull a beef pot pie out of the oven with some filling left over to go over bread or biscuits for lunch tomorrow.  I could have called the pizza place twelve miles away, I could have gone to the store the same twelve miles away and gotten some ingredients for dinner, but a little ingenuity and some sharp knives yielded a pretty yummy dinner for no added expense.

We are working on organizing, cleaning out and pairing down for 2018.  One of the items we have unearthed is a bottle of Dom Perignon that we were given for our wedding ten years ago.  Tonight's dinner cost less than $5.00.  Tomorrow night's adult beverages will be worth significantly more.  Sharing both this meal and tomorrow night's beverages with a happy, healthy family - priceless!