September Tempest and the Final Chicken Round-Up

It a dark and stormy night. Isn't that how campfire stories start off as? 'Cept we weren't camping. And it isn't a scary story. It was just really dark and really stormy. The rain was driving down in sheets, and the gusting wind was blowing the precipitation sideways. The storm hadn't even come in full force yet. But we had a job to finish - the last batch of meat chickens needed to be loaded up in the truck for their one-way trip to meet their butcher.

The chicken tractor in the truck bed, and the cab filled with coolers ready to go. We just had to pack up the chickens. Usually, we wait until the morning of to get the chickens in the truck, but this time, we had been scheduled for an earlier slot, and no one wanted to have the great chicken round-up at 5 in the morning. We waited until the birds had all settled down for the night to make the job easier. By then, the storm had arrived.

With Jake on one side of the fence to put the birds into the truck as we brought them up to him, it was up to Dad and me to catch the slumbering poultry products. In the dark. In slippery 'mud.' With the wind blowing and the rain pouring. I'll stop playing my moaning fiddle now.

When we got to the other end of the pasture (which is where the birds bedded down), the tarp tents that we had made were barely holding on to the posts. Actually, some of the corners lost their grommets and had become shredded in the wind. We sliced the baling twine used to tie the tarps, and we set the red-neck structure-staples to the side with some weights on them to prevent them from blowing away. It was chicken catching time.

We each would catch two and slowly make our way back to the road where Jake and the truck were waiting. We passed the chickens over the fence to him, tried to keep count of how many birds we had loaded up, failed utterly at that, gave up on counting, and kept on the trudging gingerly through the wet grass and slippery 'mud' trying not to find the trip wires, er, I mean, the grape trellising anchor wires. And repeat. When all was said and done, we were soaked to the bone. Even our leather gloves had become saturated. Dad was smart - he wore the rubber duck yellow rain coat. If I had just added some soap to my sweatshirt and jeans, they would've been the cleanest things in my closet.

Take a step back. Breathe. We're done. No more meat birds. No more trips to the butcher. Until next year. But by then, we have had a winter to recuperate, and we're ready to start again.

Farm Girl Got Geek: Lembas Bread

If you're a regular human being, September 22nd is the first day of fall. If you're a Lord of the Rings junkie, it's Bilbo's and Frodo's birthday, and it's Hobbit day to the fandom. Since it was a gully gusher of a day, I can't think of a better way to celebrate than with a Lord of the Rings role playing game and eating tons of food a-la-hobbit style. 

But, as good as regular food is, something about making your regular food go with the theme of the day. So I set out to make Elven lembas bread, the traveling food of the Elves of Middle Earth. Batch of cookies? Check. Mallorn leaves? Uh... That's something that needs doing. You can't have lembas without the mallorn. I found a leaf pattern, but they used foam to make the leaves. I didn't have foam handy, and I didn't feel that the foam would work very well for a method of aesthetic food delivery. I did have felt. A lot of felt. And in green too. How convenient! ;) Cut out the pattern and sew all the veins of the leaf. Voila'! Mallorn leaves. 

Just had to pass it by the critics - the brothers. One thought that it was the coolest thing ever. The other thought that all that all the extra leaf and string action was just hindering his cookie consumption.

A Choking Goat?

Yes, apparently goats can choke. I had no idea. You learn something new every day. A goat can choke on something if it's the right size, right shape, etc, etc, etc. It's gotta be just so to block that airway.

We were just doing morning chores. Nothing new there. (Why does everything unpleasant happen either during the middle of the night or during morning chores?) We gave the goats their regular morning grain mix with some sliced carrots when one of them started making the nastiest sound "BAA---!" Who needs coffee to wake you up when you hear that? That was certainly more than enough to instantly grab your attention; did we really hear what we just heard? "BAA---!" Em and I rushed over to see what was going on. Poor girl was pacing around, rubbing against anything, foaming at the mouth and struggling to even get a gasp. How she managed a baa of that decibel level is beyond me. Emi and I looked at each other wondering what on earth we're supposed to do (if you're to do anything at all). She laid down only to get right back up again and continue her frantic behaviors. She laid down again, this time she didn't have as much gumption to get back up; her eyes started getting glazed over. We consulted Dr. Google, nothing, so onto more professional assistance - the dreaded vet call. Whenever you call the vet, it always ends up being a gargantuan bill when all is said and done. They wanted us to bring her in?! But what if she doesn't make it down the hill? What if we pull into the parking lot with a dead goat? What if...? Just crate her up and head down the hill. It's all we knew we could do.

Well, she wasn't dead when we got there. She was actually doing really well. Perfectly normal in fact. Darn goat. Well, they checked on her anyway to make sure that the airway was fully cleared. Since we were there, they did a check up to make sure nothing else was lurking. All clean. No mites/lice, good coat shine, good eye color, etc, etc, etc. We had a healthy goat on our hands. Going to the vet was certainly not on the docket for the day's grand plan.

Lesson learned? Shred the carrots. No more just sliced carrots for these caprines.
And goat Heimlich. We learned the goat Heimlich. I'll have to get some pictures sometime to show you how awkward it really is. ;)

Small Farm School 2013

The sun was just peaking over the horizon on Saturday morning when my mom came in to wake me up. I rolled out of bed and put on my 'cleaner' jeans and my new 'You might be a farm girl' shirt. I didn't even dare look in the mirror - it was too early. ;) Then Mom headed out to milk the goats, and I was off to do what chicken chores I could do by myself since the rest of the posse was still wrapped up in their toasty warm beds. After a quick bite of breakfast and pulling ourselves together, we (Dad, Mom, Caity and I) loaded up into the car 15 minutes later than we had hoped and hit the road to go the this year's small farm school put on by Oregon State University (Why do the schedule this sort of thing so early in the morning when the target audience has a farm and animals? I'm still trying to figure that one out). We arrived in time to get our registration packets and get settled in our respective classes. To maximize all that was offered this year, my parents and I used the 'divide and conquer' technique. Caity learned all about tractors (safety, driving, attaching implements, etc.) Dad took the berry path; Mom focused mainly on dirt, what's in it, and what can make it better. Me? Being my ADD sort of self, I bounced all over the place.

First session was all about raising small flocks of chickens. According to the instructor, a 'small flock' is anything  less than 3,000 laying hens. 3,000! I can't even begin to imagine that many birds on our property.
The next class was taught by a master gardener. Can you guess what it was about? ;) Transplanting veggie starts. And since the day was all about small farms, he took it the larger scale garden route.
By this point, my stomach was demonstrating a vast array of whale calls; it was time to eat. I scarfed my lunch down as fast as I could for two reasons - 1) I was competing with yellow jackets for my roast beef and 2) I heard some 'baas' and 'neighs.' Caity and I scurried the direction of the animal sounds and we found a draft horse, some alpacas and a couple of sheep.

Of course, animal time was cut short due to the next session starting.

I was then immersed in the world of honey bees. Their biology, what makes them tick, some basic bee keeping, and the lo-down on colony collapse disorder. It's called a disorder for a reason since it's not a disease - it's a certain set of symptoms with numerous contributing factors ranging from pesticide usage to suppressed immune systems to miteicide (am I spelling that right?) to a lack of genetic diversity. Say wha? Yeah, apparently the 1920 Bee Act prevented any more bringing in of bees from international sources. Hmm.

It's usually by this time of the day that I check out. My brain decides that it's nap time. So instead of going to a chemistry-laden dirt class like my mom did, I decided to enroll in the writing farmers session. With the smaller class size, it was much more personal. We went around the room saying our names, a little bit of our writing background, etc. It was intriguing to hear all varying reasons and uses for writing in the farming world. Some put together newsletters or worked with CSAs. Others, like me, just write for the heck of it.

The end of the day and I went kaput. Emergency ice cream was much needed. So ice cream I procured. With my head full of new ideas and tons of notes and my stomach full of ice cream, I sat down at my desk that evening and tried to get this post written. It didn't quite happen on the schedule that I was hoping for. The ice cream was good though. ;)

'City Slicker' Driveway

Contrary to popular belief, Oregon does have seasons. They just aren't the regular seasons that you're used to elsewhere. Here in the Pacific Northwest, there are four seasons - rainy season, cold rainy season, warmer rainy season, and construction season. You gotta make hay while the sun shines and you gotta get all that road work done before the rain inevitably returns. That was a random, rabbit-trailing sort of introduction for the point I'm making here - we don't have a gravel driveway anymore; it's chip-sealed. 

For twelve years, we've lived and survived with our dusty gravel road. You don't even bother with washing the car since it'll just get dirty again on your way home. By the end of summer, you could probably grow a garden on the bumper of your car, so much dirt had accumulated. It's pretty funny when you get the occasional summer rain shower turning all that dust into mud. You just clean the windows so you can at least see and go about your merry way (meanwhile looking like the country bumpkin that you are). When delivery trucks drive up, you see a huge cloud of dust from them flooring it up the road. For the most part, we were all tolerant of our driveway, but the conversation would come up every now and again about getting the road paved when we needed to order more gravel for the road. No one ever got around to doing anything about it. Until now. 

Yep, we've lost a signature part of living in the country - the gravel road. 

After all the 'chips' get ground in, it will look like a back county road, just without the stripes and reflector things in the middle of the road. Now we just need some 'Fresh Oil' and 'Loose Gravel' construction orange signs at the bottom of the road so people know to take it easy. No pealing out, no gunning it and making a dust cloud to annoy the neighbors, no turning the wheel while stationary, etc, etc, etc... Just takes all the fun out of having what little gravel is left. ;) 

The road guys came a day early, and they had equipment issues all week. (During the lulls of waiting for a rental piece to come, they took naps - yes, naps - in the shade. Can I get paid to sleep?) They've been working fast and furious all summer to keep up with all the jobs that they need to do. This was the only company that would do a private road; every one else was already booked with government jobs.

With all the banging and scraping going on, the toms would get all excited. They gobbled all day all week. I wonder if the construction dudes realized what they were doing to the big birds. 

The oil is 150 degrees when it's put down. 150!!! o_O 

Dusty, dusty, dusty.

Aw, it's a little roller. 

Eli wanted a closer look at them working. He loved having all the big boy toys coming and going all week.

Picnic at Pemberly - a Pride and Prejudice Ball

The day finally arrived. Time slows to a crawl once you've finished your dress for the ball (but speeds up exponentially if you procrastinate until the day of). We met up at a friend's house to get ready (ribbons, curls, and bobby pins oh my!) and headed off to the ball. 

I interrupt this story to suggest that you turn on the Pride and Prejudice soundtrack by Dario Marianelli. Finding the whole playlist would be even better. Okay, you can keep reading now.  

But wait! We need to stop at the store to pick up the lemonade!

We get to go shopping in our Regency dresses! xD We ended up going to two stores and buying them  out of lemonade.  

Responses to our get-ups? 

Besides the second glances, stare-downs, compliments, questions about our unusual garb, and a gal helping us carry lemonade to the car, we also caught snippets of funny conversations about us

Little girl: Mommy, why do those people have so much lemonade?

Mommy: Honey, I think they just really like lemonade.

And...

Dude to his friend: Don't worry, you're in Portland now. You're going to see some pretty weird stuff.

And...

Some dude sitting in his car whistled at us. 

It's not every day that you see a gaggle of giggly girls dressed up in 'unusual' clothing pushing a cart full of lemonade

So. After our little shopping trip adventure, we were :really: on our way to the ball! It was for real this time. ;) My guesstimates puts the guest total to 200 (just in case you were wondering while looking at the pictures).

The littlest dancers

I loved the location

Someone ditched their shoes. The poor lost soles...

Mari's Wedding with a double circle

One of my favorite moments of the evening? 

Gentleman #1 asks me to a dance. Okay, nothing weird there. Part of the dance involved doing an 'orbit' around the set. Still nothing new there either. It's when Gent #1 was 'traded' with Gent #2 (who was nonchalantly walking by) during the orbit. Come in for a two-hand turn, and it's not the person I was dancing with before. Haha! Okay, got me! They then proceeded to trade off during each of the 'orbits' for the rest of the dance. We all had a good laugh afterwards. What I don't know is if it was pre-planned or not. Hmm...

Update: They had plotted the whole thing. They had looked at the dance list to see if it would work with any of the dances, and then they looked for someone who would be able to take the joke. 

Venue - Summerfield Farms in Salem, OR

Pictures are from ECD Oregon, Noah Holte, and yours truly

Historical Sewing: Regency Crossover and Spencer

It was 2009 and graduation was coming up. Being the off-beat, homeschooler that I was, I wanted a Regency dress for the event instead of a cute, trendy summer frock. No, I needed a Regency dress. It was my second 'big' sewing project, the first time I would be doing it on my own without much in the way of mentoring, and the first time I had worked with a pattern so... drapey. A friend of mine let me borrow her pattern from Sense and Sensibility Patterns. It looked pretty straight forward and simple enough, so, true to my style, I dived in without really knowing what I was getting myself into. But I wasn't ecstatic about it. It felt frumpy and baggy, and the closure on the front just wouldn't cooperate. I still wore it to the graduation, and I even wore it to a bachelorette tea party. I decided that crossover Regency gowns weren't my thing because of the kinks in the pattern that wouldn't seem to work themselves out. The dress landed in the farthest corner in the costume closet as more structured dresses were added to the collection.  

Graduation day. 

Fast forward to just several weeks ago. I got my sister and myself tickets to an upcoming Regency ball. And I hadn't a clue what I was going to wear. Anything that I would choose would have to be altered (loosing 30 lbs. will make your entire wardrobe not fit anymore). Now would be an excellent time to see if there was any hope for that light green damask crossover dress. 

I checked out books from the library and scoured Pinterest for ideas. It didn't take much research to find bits and pieces that I wanted to incorporate. But first, fixing that darn closure and those funky sleeves. I wish I had a before and after picture of that closure. It was a mess before. Some ribbon here and some stitches there, I'm much more pleased with the final results. But, as a whole, it didn't seem complete. 

I had enough time to spare before the ball (it's still several days away) to make that something more that the dress needed. A spencer! I had the pattern, fabric, trim, buttons... everything already in the stash (and it was all given to me by different people at different times o_O) I did a mock-up, and somewhere along the line, I decided to make it sleeveless. There are sleeveless spencers out there; just check out this beauty. After doing Jacob's coat, this project went really quick. The only kink that I ran into along the process was the ribbon on the waist that I had on my dress - the spencer wasn't long enough to cover it up. A 1 1/2" waistband needed to be added in the front and 3" to the back. After drafting some pieces and adding a seam allowance, the problem disappeared. 

I took a step back. It was finished (before the day-of). And I loved it. 

Now to figure out what I'm doing with my hair for the ball. ;)

...SPIDER!!!

Generally, we aren't too freaked out by spiders (unless you're a certain sister of mine). The general rule of thumb is that if it's in the house, it gets squished. Outside, you're invading their space. There are exceptions to this rule. Cleaning the garage for instance...
It's already a nasty job - cleaning the garage. But it needs to be done. You're already not wanting to do it, then a spider comes out. Oh, it's just a daddy long legs? No biggie. Then another spider crawls along. Suck him into the vacuum as well. Then something black and slightly vicious looking comes creeping out. BLACK WIDOW!!!! Never before have I seen my mom freak out about a spider; I guess there's a first for everything. Well, after that, we had the heebie jeebies. We'd get chills at random moments. We looked up black widow bite symptoms because we, as a committee, couldn't decide if they were lethal or not. According to Dr. Google, you'll get stiff, become feverish, vomiting, nausea, and get extreme abdominal pain. One bite probably won't kill you, but you'll probably wish that you were dead. Now we're scared to empty out the shop vac... we just might have another vacuum on standby just in case. Our grand kill total that we know of? 4 spiders and two egg sacks. So far. We're not done with the garage yet. Then it's on to the basement.

Mudroom

It's called a mudroom for a reason. The sole purpose of this area in the house is to hopefully catch most of the dirt that inevitably gets tracked in on a daily basis. Now, I'm not saying that those footprints are mine or anything... 

Smoke Rises

Source

A fire truck went by, lights all on and sirens blaring. Hmm... Mom looked North and West to see if there's anything amiss that might be worthy of note. Nothing. Back to business as usual. Until another fire truck came blowing by a few moment later with the same hustle. Looking to the south this time, there was smoke rising from the ridge behind us.

We called the neighbors to see if they could see anything since they're higher up on the hill. Was it really as close as it seemed? They called back, and yes, it was truly that close, but the fire crews had it under control. They had several tanker trucks along with all the fire fighters dousing out the flames.

After the initial excitement wore off, and we deemed it safe enough to check out, my siblings and I took a little trek up the ridge to see how close close really was. It was close. All that was between our property and that fire was a 'forest' of overgrown, sickly noble firs and a hedge of blackberries (the creek isn't running this time of year) and the wind was blowing straight for us. Based on where the fire was (a combined wheat field), and the time of year that it is (harvest season), we suspect that the fire was started by machinery working in the field, but that's just speculation. At this point, we have no idea how it started.

Thankfully, no one was hurt, and the fire was quickly put out.

The text we sent Dad. Scary text to get while at work...