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. :)

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Beautiful big ol' bellies

Wide load coming through. Delivery expected mid to late June.

I think Luna is lovely. Still a movie star, even with a big beautiful belly. :)

Olive doesn't look as big in the picture below (because she's leaning on the fence), but she pleasantly plump as well. And she's got some serious udder action going on. (But since I think udder pictures are weird, I'll spare you that one.)

And Pickles is lookin' lovely as well. :)

Willy the Wether is beside himself, wondering how to deal with all these crazy pregnant girls. 

Poor Willy. We still love you. And I'm sure the girls do, too.

Friday, May 16, 2014

The dog protected me from...

While walking and carrying half a bale of hay through the pasture on a particularly muddy day, I lost my boot. The mud sucked it right off my foot and I stepped down with my sock in the mud before I even knew what had happened.

I had two choices. Being halfway from the barn to the hay feeder, I could put my boot back on and continue on my merry way to the hay feeder, or I could leave my boot where it was and walk to the feeder through the mud in my sock. Now, we all know I'm not going to put a muddy sock in my brand new Muck boots. You just don't do something like that. So I sighed and schlepped through the mud in my sock all the way to the hay feeder.

Yeah. I'm hard core.

I arrived at the hay feeder, loaded it up with the hay I was carrying and turned around to see Cash, the super-awesome-farm-dog, growling at something. A low, rumbling, most threatening growl.

Cash, when he's not growling.

"What is it, Cash?" I asked.

He growled. He crept. He barked.

At what, you ask?

 My lone boot.

It's pretty scary, right?

I'm not sure if he thought it was a legless zombie rising from the depths of the pasture muck or if he thought it was a sign set there from some farm wrecking demon, but he was positive it was a monster that his Farm Mama needed protection from.

Bark. Growl. Bark. Growl.

Aw, Cash. My hero. Protecting me from all monsters, including boots. :)

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

It's official: we have a name

Long time readers of this blog will know that I lovingly refer to our farm as Clucky Dickens Farm. The name came from standing water and a mix up of letters when someone referred to the chickens needing to turn into ducks in order to swim around the yard.

Ah, Clucky Dickens. It stuck with me.

Every farm needs a name, officially or not. Not only does our farm have an official name, but it has a sign to show it off.

Pistol Packin' Papa surprised me with this sign that he had made by a friend. He hung it up on our corn crib while I was gone one morning, and it was hanging there to greet me when I returned home later.

I sobbed like a little baby.

Hey. Don't laugh. You know you would have done the same thing. :)

Monday, May 12, 2014

Praise Jesus. We found a pig.

Since Clucky Dickens Farm is no longer the owner of a mama pig, our plan was to locate three feeder pigs this spring and raise them up to butcher.

Shouldn't be a big deal, said I. We know lots of people who rise pigs. Shouldn't be any issue at all to find them.

Except that this year, it is a big deal to find them. No one has any feeders. We ticked through a whole list of people who answered our requests with "Nope, sorry. No feeders this year. You know that disease went through and hit everyone hard..."

Alas, we thought our luck was out.

And then, miracles of miracles....

It's the nicest little piglet. Pretty small for a feeder, and awfully quiet, but it doesn't eat much and it only cost me fifty cents. I figured it must have been my lucky day, because who knew pork could be so cheap?

The chickens aren't sure what to think of this, other than I've lost my mind.

The boys thought I was nuts, but obliged me over my grief in not finding a real live feeder. They dutifully named this lil' guy Porkers and said they would check on him often.

Farming - keeping mental health practitioners in business since 1947. :)

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Sunday Scribbles, #123

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. I like my farm. I like living on my gravel road in my little white house with my big red barn. It is quiet here except for the roosters...and the snaggy goats...and my kids. But all in all, it's a brand of awesome that I enjoy.

2. But...and it's a big but...it doesn't matter how far out you live or how quiet it is or how lovely your big red barn is or how much you enjoy it all, you still get judged.

3. Judged? Oh, hella yes. Everyone gets judged. Because you made something from scratch and you're obviously trying to one-up someone. Because you didn't make something from scratch and instead used chemical laden store bought whatever and now you're probably going to die. Because you ordered chicks. Because you hatched out chicks. Because you did or did not break up the rooster fight. Because you drank beer before 5 pm. Because you drank beer at all. Because you don't drink beer.

4. Because you spend a lot of time with your kids. Because you don't. Because you dared to buy the non-American made whatever because it was cheaper and you didn't have the money to afford the American made version. Because you did buy the American made version and someone assumed you did it just to make a statement. Because you're quiet. Because you talk too much. Because you shop where you shop. Because you do or don't eat gluten/dairy/meat/Lucky Charms/unicorns/chalk. Because you live on a farm. Because you live in the city. Because you don't live the way I do. Because you want to live the way I do. Because you don't care either way.

5. Here's my buck fifty worth: maybe we wouldn't be so judgmental if we all had a little more to do with our time than form opinions about how much we think other people suck. And maybe it would be a little more humbling if we all walked around wearing t-shirts that say "Imperfect Just Like You" and "Caution: We May Disagree But I'm Still Okay With Us Hanging Out If You Are".

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

White Chicken Chili - Dump and Done!

In the interest of honesty, I need to tell you that not everything we do here is homemade. Convenience has its place. It's okay to open some cans, dump, and be done.

Since it is Lent and our church has soup suppers every Wednesday night during Lent, it's time to bring out my White Chicken Chili recipe - which is mostly an open some cans, dump, and be done kind of thing.

And it's sooooo good. :)

White Chicken Chili
(makes a big ol' crockpot full)


Bag of frozen chicken breasts (2.5 pounds), cooked and diced
1 onion, sauteed
4  (15 oz) cans great northern beans, drained
2 pkt chili seasoning
2 jars alfredo sauce
4 (10 oz) cans cream of chicken soup
24 oz sour cream
1 (4 0z) jar diced chiles, optional

How to do it:

Once the chicken breasts are cooked and diced, and the onion is sauteed, this is a dump recipe.

Put everything in the crockpot, and cook on high for 4-5 hours or low 8-10 hours. Stir occasionally.

Quite tasty. Actually, my note on the original recipe is "super wicked good."

So there.
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