The Wool Food Mama

Ok, that was probably the cutest thing I've ever seen.

We've had a skunk in the 'hood for several months. Maybe longer, half a year? A whole year?

I've lost track, except for when I see it. Sometimes it's in our tiny orchard. Other times, it's in the drain tube under our driveway. One night in heavy rain, as I leapt for the shelter of the garden shed, I heard it hiss at me from below the deck boards. Oh, and how could I forget the night it kicked everyone out of the coop so it could have an egg dinner.

Wherever it is, we give each other plenty of room and I try to move slowly and loudly so that we don't surprise each other.

After last night, I now know that "it" is a she and she had babies. 

Gusty was just heading out to lock up the chickens when she yelled, "a skunk is chasing the chickens!!"  I'd just flopped for the night, but that gets a girl moving. oof.

I thought it was mama, who isn't the least bit afraid of me. With that in mind, I knew I had to be something she had never seen and I had to be big and loud.

My weapon of choice? A blue tarp. Not just any blue tarp. A 20 foot crinkly tarp, wrapped around my shoulders like superman and flailing high in the wake of my fast moving feet.

I came out from around the garage, yelling loudly, cape flying (not so proudly) to lay eyes on the tiniest little skunk kit.

A baby. Not chasing chickens but *trying* to chase chickens. Jumping in and out of the food dish, scampering around like a 10 week pup. Basically, having the time of his life because mama wasn't home.

My cape scared him real good, which I felt badly about later. But he ran for home and no one got hurt.

Home happens to be under the garden shed.

Sigh.

It should be an interesting summer for sure. But it was still the cutest thing I'd ever seen.

Love,
Katie

Now that was rewarding

Every year, I think to myself, "THIS is going to be your year, Katie." For what?  Well, to be an awesome gardener, of course. Hahaha. No really, I just lol'd to myself, all by myself even.  

No one can baffle themselves with bullsh*t quite like I can. Not necessarily a noble trait, to be sure, but it does keep me trying.  The stack of seed catalogs sitting beside me is proof that this year will be no different than the last.  Full of hope and possibility.

Of course, to be a great gardener, one does have to go the distance.  Tending, nurturing, weeding, watering. These things are crucial.  But, I'm better at planning, planting and neglecting.

I get a little thrill at harvest time seeing just what could make it on it's own.  Tomatoes and taters too. The shallots I completely forgot about.  And THESE!

Cranberry speckled beans.  Aren't they beautiful?  Here's a close up.

Like I haven't confessed enough, I'm going to tell you that I just found these in the garden.  I know, I know.  It's -9 degrees in the heart of Minnesota, but I'm still harvesting. 

I planted these around the chicken coop last spring.  First to harvest beans one day and second, to provide some shade for the girls last summer. Apparently I'd grown so accustomed to looking at them that I forgot about the harvest part.  I was like "hey, those are some cool bean pods" and then I was like, "oh, cool beans!"

I haven't cooked them up yet, but I'm hopeful that I've found my new favorite chili bean base because I can get used to this kind of gardening.

 

Really, that was rewarding. 

 

love, Katie

 

 

Finally. Homemade butter.

We've been raw milk drinkers for a lot of years now and we were also lucky enough (for awhile) to enjoy a nice stockpile of Amish butter.

Then, my farmer moved and getting milk became more difficult. My Amish stash of little golden pots dwindled too.

For a long time, we were mostly dairy-free. Well, at least, milk-free. Then I caved and bought milk from the store and man, one just can't go backwards like that. I was pouring milk down the drain. Which is probably good, but still. Who likes pouring anything down a drain?

So, this week, I made milk a priority and made the drive. 2 hours. Each way.

I was richly rewarded. Not only did I get milk, but they were long on cream too. So, I go a full gallon of that as well.
 

The farm's First Lady said to leave the half gallon jar on the counter for two days and then start shaking.

So I did. Two noodle arms and 30 minutes later, I broke out the Kitchenaid and opened up Pinterest. Five minutes after that, I had my first batch ready for washing.

One half gallon equals 1.5 pints of butter and 2 pints of buttermilk. With a little to spare for the chickens.

With practice, it will get easier and cleaner too. Spattering milk was a problem. But, let me tell you, standing around with my oldest daughter whilst me licked knives and spatulas was a Saturday night well spent.

Love,
Katie

This never gets old

 

The girls are laying, full strength again, after a seemingly short winter in Minnesota.

We've been collecting eggs for 6 or 7 years now and it just doesn't get old. Ever. 

I have a couple of gals that are trying out for the Easter Bunny too.  Most lay their eggs in the nesting boxes, but some choose to be non-conformists. Today, I found one egg behind the coop door, another in the corner, one more in an old box in the barn and finally, one dropped an egg right off her roost whilst waiting for me to get out of her way.  That's never happened!  Thanks, lady!

Every day is Easter around here and I just love it. 

Sweet Nativity

Finally. I've tossed around the possibility of a nativity for a few years now.

I've had the animals down for awhile, but the people...the very special people...have escaped me.

Never did I imagine peg people as the base, but they worked. Delightfully so. I've been having so much fun....

The royal family....

Kings and wise men...

Angels and shepherds too..

Fit for a king...I think.

Love, Katie

Oooooo, it's chili

Winter arrived yesterday. Not particularly early, for Minnesota. Still, even after all of these years, it's always a surprise. Or a jolt to the thin skin of summer.

Yesterday, as I watched the cold creep in, I glanced out the back window and caught a flash of red in the heavy weeds. It wasn't anything glamorous or even exciting. Just a tomato trying to hang on for one more day of sunshine to complete its ripening.

That warm and sunny day isn't likely to arrive so I went out to pick the poor thing. Much to my delight, I didn't have enough hands for the rest of its friends. Which were hiding amongst the weeds that I'd given up on, months ago.

Mostly Amish Paste and some spotted variety from seed savers...I think. I don't really recall ordering something fancy, but there could have been a moment of weakness at checkout.

Not nearly enough to pull out a pressure cooker and some jars but more than enough for a pot of chili.




Oooooo, chili.

Food never photographs well after dark. Frankly, lighting has little to do with it at all, food just doesn't photograph well.

Oh well, despite the awful photo, it was amazing (I'm kinda braggy about my cooking. Sorry.) and softened the blow on closing out another summer. Farewell friend, see you next May, it was a blast.

Love, Katie

Fell off the bike, I did.

I sew nearly every day. If I'm not sewing, I'm thinking about sewing. It's just how it is around here.

But, I hand sew. It's a rare day when I get a chance to dust off one of the machines.

There was a time though, when I could crank out a half dozen fitted diapers, with snaps, and still get everything else done too.

I realized today, that just because I used to be able to (machine) sew like that, doesn't mean I can still sew like that.

These zippers just about did me in today.

Gusty wanted new pencil bags for school and I was determined to make them for her. She had already picked out the fabric, after all.

These two little bags chewed up most of the afternoon, but I finally got it right. Mostly.

Funny thing though, seam ripping is like riding a bike. You never forget. Setting zippers? Not so much.

Love, Katie

Overachiever

Aren't those gorgeous? The one on the top is a turkey egg and the other egg is a chicken egg.

An egg this size doesn't happen very often, unless you have new laying hens trying to figure out this whole egg-laying thing.

Pullet eggs are generally small, sometimes round, other times, the shell can be leathery, like a turtle. Sometimes, they "forget" to include a shell at all. Yeah, that's weird. Still, all of these are totally normal whilst new pullets are trying to be, well, hens.

Rarely will you get an overachiever from the word go. I had one before, from our very first flock. She laid one huge egg, every other day, and it was always a double yolk.

I hope this continues, because double yolks are just fun and so are overachieving chickens.

Love, Katie

Break Time is Over

Most of you, that have been with me since the beginning, know that I take a good sized break after the spring holiday. After that much wool passes through my hands, we need a break from each other to fall in love again.

This year is no different, we are back in love, with an exclamation point!

I don't know that I'll ever take my shop into the doll world, but I do love to make them and they are always great fuel for the recharging I so desperately need between spring and summer.






I never really cared for the faces I used to make, so I decided that I'd spend some time on a signature look....just in case.






And a body style and size...just in case.







It's not anywhere close to a finished baby, but prototypes never are. Still, after showing a rough draft to Gusty, she named them. Of course. Betty Thyme. Get it? Beddy-time dolly. She's so cool.







Betty Thyme. All rested and fresh faced.

Love, Katie

Poor thistle

Just about everyone cringes when they see it, never mind stepping on it. Thistle. Dreaded, icky, the yard is ruined, thistle.

It's ok, I used to hate it too. Then, I recently (like this week) discovered that it's really not so bad.

Ugh. Kinda hard to love that. It looks horrible. Or does it?

Thistle is actually a rather pretty plant and when the gold finch perch to eat seed it's absolutely stunning. Still, it has a bad rap....especially when you let it get as big as I did last year.

I remember looking at the purple blooms last summer and thinking to myself,"Katie, you should go out there and snip off those blooms."

**Thistle trivia: thistle stores all of its energy for the bloom, snip off the bloom and the plant collapses. Snip off the plant and it regrows. So if you're trying to eradicate it, you should really snip blooms. I read that in my favorite cattle book; Grass Fed Cattle, by Julius Ruechel.

Anyway, back to last summer. Yes, I thought it. I even snipped off a feed bag's worth of blooms. Then the heat and humidity changed my mind. So then I thought, it's not so bad.





Good thing I changed my mind about it, because my soil needed attention....but I was still learning....not thistle, it was working.

The thing is, if you have a lot of thistle, it means your soil is in trouble. Maybe it needs minerals or amending.

In this particular area, I already knew our pasture soil needed a boost. The towering thistle just drove it home.

I let the ponies graze it too low. When it's grazed too low, the roots start shrinking and aeration isn't happening. Compacting from heavy animals quickly follows.

Now you're just robbing from the soil, you're not giving anything back. Sad face.

Thistle arrives, like an army.

This is actually a good thing. No really. Stay with me.

What happens when there's thistle? You go somewhere else and the soil gets to rest.

Thistle is the ultimate soil guardian. It stands as a protector of the earth, keeping people and critters off the dirt. Its roots aerate the soil, and its dried up stalks easily crumble, offering organic matter back to the ground. Which, when it decomposes, is an invitation for earth worms to return. Who knew?

Thistle offers recovery. Look again at the new life springing up in its former shadow....




Last year, when the thistle was in its full glory, this grass could barely break ground. Today, just a week into spring, it's the first area to sprout grass with vigor.



Soil repaired.

Reflecting back to last summer, I confess that I came dangerously close to tilling up the whole thing. I can't even imagine the damage I would have done.

Poor thistle. I didn't know enough to give you so much credit. I'll never speak ill of you again. I know now that you're just the messenger between me and the dirt.

I'm listening now.

Love, Katie