one scout, two scouts, three or more...

As a girl, I was a Brownie, an Indian Princess and a Girl Scout. I learned how to be a good friend, set a table and make a cookbook; but none of these groups taught me how to survive in the wildness or survive a bad trip to the hair salon, for that matter. In retrospect, I probably should have joined the Boy Scouts. I could have gotten a badge in knot tying, something I think of every other time I'm roping down a load of hay in the truck. Or learned how to start a fire with two sticks... I haven't needed this yet, but ya never know.

But, you don't need a club or a badge to become a good boy scout - you just need to stick yourself on a farm for several years to deal with broken machinery, wood plies, critters and mother nature. You'll turn out to be a boy scout by necessity or by accident.

The week before Christmas we started getting snow. I loved it - a hushed blanket of white over the landscape. It snowed and snowed and I began to make the mental list... candles (check), flashlights and batteries (check), water (check). After a few days I filled some buckets with water for the toilet (no power, no well pump, no flushing) and enjoyed being trapped on the hill.

I was just beginning to think we'd weathered the storm with no major problems when the darn power finally went out. I set up the Coleman stove to cook dinner, stoked the fire and cuddled in with the dogs. 24 hours is fine, 48 is manageable, but after days without electricity things start to get un-fun. There hasn't been a shower (save the sponge bath over a pot of hot water); the days are extremely short and the nights drag on (you can only read by candle light for so long); and you find yourself sleeping in long johns, flannel pj's, a fleece and gloves in front of the fire (oh so not-sexy). And the dogs are shivering under blankets.

The boy scout in me called uncle and I decided to head for a cozier farm (which promised a hot bath and a glass of wine). The dogs were ready to go too, so we broke camp and headed down the hill. That was a boy scout four-wheeling adventure in itself, but we arrived to enjoy the creature comforts for a few days until the juice came back at our place on Christmas day.

The farm survived, I took the longest shower ever, began turning the pounds and pounds of tomatoes that had been in the freezer (and then snow bank) into pasta sauce and enjoyed the yummiest spaghetti for Christmas dinner.

It's nice to know you can become a good boy scout at any age ( and that if you need to abandon the wilderness there are friends waiting for you).

If you think about it, every experience is worth having.
- Henry Ford

Ben

Read the last post and now meet Ben, pre-shave...

Bogart

Ok, it's finally time I wrote this... Bogart died about 6 weeks ago. He was the perfect boy who lived a great life and had a good death. He never had as much as a hang nail and was only diagnosed with heart disease 2 days before he died. I scaled back our walks, but would have rather had him out in the fresh air than confined to the house. We were out on our morning walk when he and Eloise started chasing something in the woods. He collapsed and died peacefully in my lap shortly after. I miss him terribly, but I'm so thankful he died doing what he loved in our beautiful back yard.

After a search thru Aussie Rescue, Eloise and I brought Ben, an Aussie/Border Collie cross, home on Thanksgiving. He came from a not-so-good situation and has had some adjusting to do. Everything is so new to him... as in being fed regularly, getting to go on walks and living in a house... he's had a lot of learning to do. But he's really smart and sweet and improving by the day. Meal time is now just exciting rather than over-the-moon and his biggest success so far was to go to the groomer on Fri. I thought it would be traumatic as he'd had a poor experience before, but he loved the girls and they got him so clean that he's now naked and I hardly recognize him. Much calmer and happy as opposed to neurotic. However, since he has no fur, he's sporting a sexy black v-neck T-shirt. He doesn't seem to mind and since it isn't dog fashion week at the farm no one else cares either.

More updates as we progress. Wishing you snow flakes on your nose, hot cocoa and cozy toes...

Loggin' Days

Autumn here is fabulous. Its my favorite time of year and there are days I'm almost giddy. Each morning on our way home from our walk I look out over the valley, with the light softer than it was a few weeks before, and I know I live in the most beautiful spot in the world.

Beyond being a lovely time of year, its also the mad scramble to get as much done outside as possible before the rains fly. My aunt Janet calls it "gathering nuts and berries" - preparing for winter. I have been picking up acorns on my walks (they fill a platter on my dining room table) and picking wild blackberries; but the real nuts and berries are mowing for the last time or two, getting firewood and propane (god that could break the bank this year), cleaning up the gardens, painting the outside of the house and freezing or canning local produce.

Firewood has been my thing lately. The guy who usually delivers for me is out and I'm having a hard time finding anyone with hardwood. My friend Charlie took down several cedar trees at his place, so last week we spent an afternoon cutting and splitting. It was my kind of afternoon - playing with chainsaws and the hydraulic splitter. I like getting in touch with my inner lumberjack every once in a while. Charlie was impressed with my chainsaw abilities and I was impressed with the splitter, which I have added to my list of favorite power equipment. Tomorrow we'll cut up the oak that fell last winter.

As much as I enjoy playing logger, these two excursions wont net me all the wood I need for winter. So I've been in touch with a guy who I think can deliver two more cords this weekend. He doesn't seem extremely dependable, but its not like I need him to show up for a date, just one delivery. Ok one delivery date - lets hope he can make it.

On a food storage note, I decided to oven dry some tomatoes to toss with pasta and put on pizza this winter. It seemed like a great idea. I quartered 10 pounds of Roma's, drizzled them with olive oil and a sprinkle of salt. I set them on a rack and put them in the oven on low and waited. And waited. 15 hours later I was left with one measly jar of dried tomatoes packed in olive oil. Can you believe it - ten pounds of tomatoes is reduced to one (really cute) 8 oz jar, not to mention the many hours of drying. I'm glad I did it once to get it out of my system, but the conclusion... one colossal waist of energy!

"Why not" is a slogan for an interesting life. - Mason Cooley

One Goat, Two Goats, Three or More

So... I suck at keeping this blog up to date. Lavender harvest came in with a swoosh - great crop and the barn is full. Keeping up with weeds, mowing and events has made the past two months fly by.

But things are getting back to a normal whirl and this weekend brought a new resident. In between a wedding and the farmers market, Tilly (named after my great grandmother, Matilda) moved into the pasture with the rest of the herd. Don't ask, don't say it... yep, this brings the count up to seven, which (I should keep reminding myself) is enough.

She's a cashmere mix (a bit fancy for the farm), all black with white markings on her hind legs. Living here is her first real experience with goats as she's only had a cow companion since the early age of 2 months. So she's trying to get her goat legs and find a friend among the crew.

I think she and Lucy may be pals, but we'll have to wait and see what shakes out. In the mean time, Blanche is making sure Tilly doesn't feel welcome at meal time. I'll give it a few days before I worry... I think Tilly is feisty enough to butt her way in when she's ready.

In the mean time, I'm plotting what projects will get started (or finished) before the rains arrive. Stay tuned...

January or June?

Yes, even though we're well into June, it feels like the middle of January here... rain, cold and more of the same. Seems Mother Nature isn't quite ready to open the sky and let the sun shine in.

So naturally we're a bit behind the curve. The lavender looks like it'll be a fabulous crop, but about 3 weeks behind schedule. It wont hurt anything for it to be late, but if you're planning to visit the farm to see a field of purple I would suggest the first 2 weeks in July. The website has been updated with hours and events, so check it out and come visit. The first Sunset event will be June 28th and should be a great night - bluegrass, wine, food, etc. See events page for details.

Even though the weather's still a bit cool, everything is beautiful out here in the country and we look forward to sharing the farm with you...

Sinful Spring Soup

Ok don't give me shit. I'm horrible about keeping up with the blog, but there's really no need to post about procrastinating taxes, muddling through office work and trying to keep the house clean (mud season, two dogs and me). The dead of winter doesn't leave a lot to write about. But the seasons are trying to change (we haven't quite made it yet) and I'm feeling a bit chipper.

This weekend the rains blew in with a flurry and it would have felt like winter again, but the tulips and daffodils are showing their shining faces and the produce department at my local grocer is displaying spring fare. Unfortunately asparagus and artichokes aren't in season here yet.

Eating local is a breeze at the peak of summer harvest and I can get myself through most of winter on produce I've frozen (tomatoes, berries, corn, etc) and those that keep well (onions and various squash), but I made the last of my tomatoes into sauce a few weeks ago and the last winter squash finally rotted. I was in serious need of a change in diet, so I caved when I saw the thin spears of California asparagus in the store. A little chat with produce manager, John, and I came up with this delicious soup - sinful, as it didn't come from a local farm, but hearty enough for a meal and brimming with sweet spring flavor:

Sinful Spring Soup
1 large baking potato
1 pound thin asparagus
2 large leeks, white and light green parts sliced thin
2 cloves garlic, minced
tarragon
vegetable broth
half and half
olive oil and/or butter
salt, pepper and ground nutmeg to season

Bake the potato and set aside to cool slightly. Toss the asparagus spears with olive oil, salt and pepper. Roast on a baking sheet at 450 degrees for about 10 minutes, turning every so often, until they begin to brown, but are still bright green. Meanwhile, saute leeks and garlic in olive oil or butter. Add a Tbsp of tarragon and 1 cups broth. Simmer on low.

Chop the cooked asparagus, reserving heads, and place in blender. Scoop cooked potato and add to blender with 1 cup broth and 1/4 cup half and half. Puree. Add to soup pan with reserved asparagus heads. Add more broth or half and half to desired constancy and season with salt, pepper and a bit of nutmeg. Enjoy!

If you're lucky enough to have asparagus in season now, eat all you can, any way you can. If you're like me, make this soup once to get a spring veggie fix and wait for the real deal from your local farm stand or market.

Minnie Pearl is Kicking My Ass

My old farm truck, Minnie Pearl, seems to bring out my blondness (and frustrates the hell out of me). I needed to get a load of hay last week, but couldn't get the engine to turn over. It was bitter cold so I figured that was the problem and I'd try again in a few days. The second try, still nothing.

For some reason, I concluded the spark plugs needed to be changed (sounded like a good idea). But I've never changed a spark plug, so I got out my handy manual, read a bit and looked that the diagram. I found the distributor cap (which was pictured in the manual), good, but there were no spark plugs inside. Huh. It took me a few minutes to realize, the plugs were at the other end of the wire (geez). After a consult at the auto parts store I was armed with spark plugs and the ratchet to remove them.

I should mention, the truck is so high I need a ladder to get under the hood. I'm on the ladder and then I'm crawling around over the engine, trying to reach the plugs, which are not conveniently located by any means (in fact there hard as hell to get to). I managed to get five of the eight changed, before my body was bruised and battered from leaning against hard metal and twisting in every direction possible trying to reach the freakin' plugs. I couldn't take it any more, I wanted to cry. I didn't... I went inside for the evening, scrubbed my greasy finger nails and had a glass of wine.

I go thru this about every six months, the truck breaks and I think I can fix it. Maybe I can't or shouldn't, maybe I should call a mechanic. But I'm too stubborn, I like to do things for myself. I want to know how to fix my truck and I haven't given up hope (yet) that this time I will.

In the mean time, I schlepped a half a ton of hay, in three loads, in the back of my pathfinder. I think its time to vacuum.

No, you never get any fun out of things you haven't done.
- Oscar Wilde