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. :)

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. :)
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