Wednesday, March 4, 2015

farmgirls, romantic dates, and chainsaws

I'm trying to be more bold and learn things that in the past were easier to leave unlearned.

"Why don't I know how to use a chainsaw?" I asked my husband a few days ago when we were out cutting wood. Cutting wood generally means he cuts...


 ...and I stack.



 I asked if our next romantic date could be me learning to use the chainsaw. He said yes. So the next day, I got myself ready for learning all about the mighty chainsaw.

"I really wish I had a pair of scratch pants for you," Farm Man Extraordinaire said.

"Huh?"

"Tough pants that you can't cut through. To protect your legs."

I would not be scared. I would not be scared.

Oh, that trusting act of him handing me the saw. The love he demonstrated by handing over his almost brand new Husqvarna 16" that he won on the silent auction at our church dinner. I get misty eyed at the thought he believed in me and that I probably wouldn't wreck it, or myself...at least not on purpose.

I sliced through the first log.


 I totally did it!

And then I said, "Well, I can see how a person could easily cut their leg off." Which might have been the wrong thing to say. But you know, honesty

I'm sure he wasn't worried. I mean, the hospital is only like...twenty minutes away.

But I kept going. I was totally doing it! And you know what? Cutting with a chainsaw is fun.

At one point we had to grease the bar, and because we didn't have a needle greaser we had to do it old school...which involved a larger grease gun, a finger, and a big mess.

"You know," I said, looking at the grease all over his fingers and the sawdust all over me, "this is probably our most romantic date yet."

He smiled and shook his head.

Sometimes I think he wonders if I ate a lot of paint chips as a child.

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Sunday Scribbles, #127

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. While contemplating the larger mysteries of life the other day, I started making a list of things that I don't yet understand.

2. Ratchet straps. They are a thorn in my side. I don't understand them or how they work. I always have to wait for someone else to deal with them.

3. Hooking up a trailer to a truck? Seriously. Get someone else because I can't.

3.5. Running the tractor. The wood splitter. Taking a bullhead off a hook. Running a weed whip. Etc., Etc., Etc. Nope, can't do it.

4. Except there is a difference between not being able to do it and never having tried to do it. There is a difference between not trying to do it because it's easier to have someone else do it and just not wanting to look stupid because you don't know what you're doing.

4.5. And that's the point of my scribblin' today: not that we should feel bad for the things we don't know how to do (because there will always be things we don't know how to do), but that so much life is lost on people who don't try stuff just because they don't want to look stupid.

4.75. And if we're being honest, and I think we are, there's a lot of stuff I've just not learned how to do because I don't immediately understand them and don't want to look stupid learning how to do them.

4.80. Pride, y'all. It's so lame.

5. Having a farm will either freak you out...or humble you...or both. That being said, my new goal is that when I'm met with something I don't know how to do, I'm going to ask someone to teach me how to do it instead of just sitting back in fear of how I will look while I'm learning it.

Y'all - Be Bold. Look Stupid. Learn Something. And have a lovely Sunday.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

farmgirls, clothes and their hate-hate relationship

So, the thing is...I really hate clothes.

Clothes are complicated—especially when you live on a farm—and ain't nobody got time for that.

See, when you live on a farm, it's necessary to have clothes for wearing to town and clothes for wearing in the barn. Never shall the two mix. And unless you're swimming in extra money, (which you aren't, because it all goes to the barn) there aren't a whole lot of choices in between. You're either dressed for barn work, or you're dressed for town.

Most of my clothes are kept in my dresser. My closet is known as the do-not-wear-things-in-here-unless-you-are-leaving-the-property-for-fear-of-ruining-them-because-these-threads-are-actually-unstained-and-maybe-sorta-kinda-fashionable closet.



 It is small, y'all. Because I hate clothes.

I'm not a fancy person. I'm totally not. I mean, if you creep up on me in the barn, this is what you're going to get.


Not quite farmgirl calendar worthy. But totally real.

Maybe the real problem is that I have a warped view of what's fancy or "good". Maybe this is best illustrated by the difference between my barn boots and my good boots.

Like, here's my winter barn boots.



Here's my winter good boots.


 See the difference? Or...wait....

Maybe the problem is that I need to go shopping. But I hate clothes. More than that, though, I hate spending money on clothes. I don't care about clothes. I've told my husband a few times that life would be so much easier if we didn't have to wear them.

He's still searching for the right way to answer that question. ;)

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Sunday Scribbles, #126

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. There is a bottle of generic brand maple flavored syrup on my counter. The bad kind. The kind that is like three thousand percent pure corn syrup...

2. ...and I live on a lil' farm, enjoying the "simple" life. Yesterday I made chicken noodle soup from scratch. Like bird from the coop, noodles made by my hands, corn grown in my field. Then I made some good crusty bread. From scratch.

3. You might think these two things (maple flavored corn syrup and chicken noodle soup/bread) don't go together. But really, they do.

4. They go together because they show that even though I'm a homesteader, living at an awesome farm where we do a ton of things the hard way, a ton of things the old way, a ton of things the back-to-the-land way...we don't do everything that way.

5. And I think its important to bring this up. Here's why: Because I want to help people. And you help people best by being honest and approachable and real. So I'm gonna be honest about the fact that I adore my farm and love living this life and there is SO much to learn and know...and sometimes I still grab McDonalds every once in a blue moon.

6. Just keeping it real, y'all, because we really shouldn't be anything else. :)



Sunday, October 5, 2014

Sunday Scribbles, #125

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1.We didn't get pigs this year because we weren't able to find any feeders. We did find one small, quiet, plastic one who hung out in our barn all year, but since he's stayed so small—and plastic bacon doesn't taste good—I don't have the heart to butcher him.


2. I miss my piggies.

3. The fact that my most popular blog post to date is How to Butcher a Pig part one and part two really make me miss my pigs.

4. The fact that we've all become bacon snobs makes me miss my piggies.

5.The fact that we have ration what bacon we have left to make it through until we can hopefully buy feeder pigs in 2015...oh, gosh. I miss my piggies.


Sunday, September 28, 2014

Sunday Scribbles, #124

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. Farm Man Extraordinaire and I spent yesterday working in the barn, turning our farthest back goat stall into a milking area. Romance on the farm, I tell you, is special.

2. While Farm Man worked on building a second door for said milking area, I scooped the old bedding into our older-than-the-hills-but-totally-awesome manure spreader.

Older than the hills but supremely awesome.
3. Filling this spreader up four times (the stall had been sorely neglected—much like this blog) meant four trips out to the field to spread the manure around. I was feeling pretty awesome doing this job, because I was running real, live farm machinery. But when I got it back to the barn, it always had to be backed down the aisle to the last stall for re-filling. And I don't back stuff up.

4. But I also don't like to be a complete pain in the ass, so I figured it was time to start learning how to back something up instead of always depending on someone else to do it for me. (Fist bump to the Can-Do-It Farmgirls!) "How patient are you?" I asked Farm Man Extraordinaire, dragging him out of the barn to explain this whole backing up a trailer thing to me.

5. "Very patient," he answered with a smile.Thus began the lesson of how to avoid running into too many things while you're backing something up. And while I still need a lot of practice, I think I'm well on my way to earning my Backing Up Badge. Thank goodness for patient husbands. :)

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Vacation from the Farm

When one decides to take on farm life, you severely cut down on family vacations. It's difficult to find someone to watch the farm for an extended period of time so the family can get away.

Pistol Packin' Papa approached me a few weeks ago and informed me I would (no excuses permitted) be going to the cabin (five hours north) while he stayed back and watched the farm. And so Memorial Day weekend brought the first hubby-kids-and-me trip to the cabin since we bought Clucky Dickens Farm. :)


It was fun to get away. There was four wheeler riding, both during the day...


...and at night.


Deer rifles were sighted in.


A bit o' work was done with the tractor.


This farmgirl even had time to do some fishing.


It was a beautiful weekend and a lovely get away. I surely do love Clucky Dickens Farm...but I had forgotten how much I love to go to the cabin, too. :)
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