And so, I sew.

I love it when I can give someone a hand-made gift.  I know it's so much easier to go to the store and buy whatever is the current rage, but I really seem to have difficulty doing that.  Part of it is that I love making things.  But there's something else.  People - kids - "these days" expect things instantly, a quick fix, something that, to me, doesn't take much time or effort.  Time and Effort are precious to me.  They are so rare.  My hope is that maybe, just maybe, I can light a little spark of something in a child.  Maybe they realize that nice things can be home-made.

This is a particular favourite. I've made it at least 5 times now.  It's a colorful and practical pencil roll with individual little pockets for colored pencil crayons, or paintbrushes or knitting needles, you get the idea.

And maybe, just maybe, they will be inspired to make something, too.

Happy Crafting!

This pattern was adapted from that in "Last Minute Patchwork and Quilted Gifts"  by Joelle Hoverson.

Fall Postcards

Cheesie scarecrow

Mill Creek Park bridge

A view from the corn maze at McMillan Pumpkin Patch

Pumpkins!

Grapes!

Fall leaves & rain

The fall attire: fleece and rubber boots

The Bachelors

Weekend Reading

"The Butcher and the Vegetarian" by Tara Austin Weaver.  I thoroughly enjoyed this one.  I've been needing something a little lighter lately, and this one did the trick, not only for the humor, but it was also interesting and followed my thought pattern of late.

Weaver was raised a hippie 70's type vegetarian and never knew anything else until doctors told her to eat meat to cure her chronic fatigue.   I, for over 20 years, have only eaten chicken and fish because I couldn't stand to support the commercialism and brutality that plagues the food industry in North America.  (I tried, for about 3 months to go total veggie, but I simply enjoy chicken too much.)  Lately though, I too have ventured into the land of meat, providing it is ethically raised, pasture fed, "happy" meat.  You know what?
I like it.

But Weaver's book isn't just about eating meat.  It's her journey to learn more about herself and what works for her.  For listening to one's true heart is one of the best lessons one can learn.  Interestingly enough, Weekend Reading from 2 weeks ago gives the same life lesson. Hmmm.

Where ever you are, whatever you do, enjoy your weekend!

Who's Da Man?? HE'S Da MAN!

My lovely ewes got a little surprise last week:

He didn't come with a name, but Daughter insisted on calling him Apollo, after the Roman God of light and the sun, truth and prophecy, healing, plague, music, poetry, (among other things) and the patron defender of herds and flocks.  Appropriate?  I think so.

Since we've never introduced a new member to the flock, we decided to safely introduce the girls to Apollo through the fence, as we do with chickens:

Don't they look like they're smiling?

Hmmm.  Apparently sheep are more accepting than chickens, as this was the peaceful scene later that weekend (that's him in the middle):

And so the adventure begins.  We have borrowed him for a month, give or take, and then in March, we will see the results of this.  He was never hand-raised like our girls were, but is very gentle and acts like he's been here forever.  Nice.

Hopefully we'll end up with about 6 lambs of our our 4 ewes, one of which we will give back to the lovely farmer who loaned this guy to us.  The others will be pasture-raised until late summer and sent... away.  We already have customers queuing up for their "happy meat."

Tomato Cages are Stupid

Seriously Stupid.  Tomato Cages are.  And the result of such stupidness is such an embarrassment I am not even going to post a photo.    Really now. These heritage variety tomatoes we planted this year were So Huge, the shear weight and size of them toppled the "cages" over weeks ago.  And here I am, attempting to harvest the last of summer goodness, by untangling the web of tomato vines from each other, sadly observing the sorry sight of the mound of forgotten tomatoes, lost and rotting, on the ground beneath said cages.

So, next year, I'm doing THIS.  Seriously, Sophia at the www.joyoffarming.blogspot.ca has it Going On.

Enough of the other nonsense.  Tomato Cages.  I fart in your general direction.

Oh, and by the way?  My List?  Not bad.  Passports applications are complete, awaiting pick up of photos. Garlic was totally planted, then we decided to pick up some Yugoslavian bulbs today to add to the German and Russian already in the ground.  The plum tree has been thoroughly raided and plums are frozen and/or dried.  "Beep" is being transitioned; in that she is starting to spend her nights in a slightly cooler room of the house, but is not yet outside.  Elderberry Syrup?  Check.  Roosters?  We are currently finishing them on organic boiled potatoes (I dunno, I read that somewhere), garden gleanings and black sunflower seeds (recommended by a friend).

Tomatoes?  Well... See Above.

Weekend Reading for Kids

 "Waiting for Winter" by Sebastian Meschenmoser is one of our family's seasonal favourites.  Deer has told squirrel that winter is coming and Squirrel really wants to see what that's all about.  

In his efforts to stay awake, he rouses Hedgehog and Bear who then want to see it too.  

They have an idea what winter is supposed to look like, and what they think is winter is hilarious, to both an older child, and preschoolers alike, as the pictures are priceless.  Meschenmoser's artwork captures the emotions to a "T" and the whole family will laugh out loud.

Happy Reading!

The List

As I watch the summer fade and realize we are now firmly entrenched in fall, I feel compelled to make a list of things I need to get done.  And sooner rather than later.

I've read somewhere that if you tell someone your plan, there's a much better chance that you will accomplish what you set out to do, because you are now accountable. 

So, This Week's Plan is:
- get a ram for my ewes
-  tag all turkeys that will be used for breeding
- harvest the rest of the tomatoes
- process the ripe tomatoes
- pick the rest of the plum tree and process those
- introduce "Beep" to the great outdoors - permanently!
- plant garlic
- either build a chicken tractor or devise a way to keep chickens in the garden without the "tractor", like with netting
- complete passport renewals
- make another batch of elderberry syrup
- set a date for round 1 of rooster processing

The first 2 things I did this weekend, so I say they count.  Plus, it feels good to cross stuff off a list, yes?

Hmmm.  I think I need to stay home this week.  Seems I have a lot to do...

Weekend Reading

"Dying to Be Me" by Anita Moorjani is the pick of the week, this week.  It came into our house as a gift, as Hubby lost a close friend this week to brain cancer, after a rapid 7 week battle.  (Yes.  7 weeks).  This friend was one of those solid guys, one you could sit down with and share a joke, or a real heart-to-heart.  He was a true gentle man.  When you were in his presence, you knew he was truly there.  He was an amazing father and grandfather, who always had time for his family.  His home was always open, and we spent countless Christmas Eves and Thanksgivings and summer pool parties with them.  This book is about Anita Moorjani's Near Death Experience (NDE) and although I am not aware that our friend experienced this, it gives me some peace thinking that he is still with us and as happy and free as anyone could be.

As she says in the book, "Live your life fearlessly."

Black Sheep

Maybe you have a cat that purposely knocks stuff off the counter when she's peeved with you.  Or a dog that will pee on your bed when you leave it alone too long.

We have 2 such critters: Blackberry, a chicken, and Stella, a sheep.

Blackberry is a very unassuming hen.  She's a consistent layer of large perfect brown eggs.  She is a Barred Rock X  (cross with what, I have no idea), and as such, very ordinary looking.  You can pick her up without a fuss and take an egg out from underneath her whilst she's still on the nest.

Don't let her fool you.  This chicken is an escape artist.  She can open unlatched gates without batting an eye.

After I let the sheep out into the pasture in the morning, I close their pasture gate and then open the gate between the chickens' yard and the sheep pen, so the chickens can effectively "clean up" after the sheep.  Works well... most of the time.

Last week, the sheep (mostly the aforementioned Stella) decided to loiter in their pen for a while before going into pasture.  Fine, I thought.  But I forgot that the latch on the gate between the chickens and the sheep is broken.  And I forgot about Blackberry.

I was greeted at the top pasture gate several hours later by Blackberry and her cronies, 3 other mixed breed hens and one adventurous "old lady."  (We have 2 "old ladies" -- Sex-a-link hens that have retired.  I.E. - don't lay anymore and on a "real farm" would have been chicken soup a long time ago.)

Caught in the act -- with accomplices!

Blackberry will poke her head through the holes in the gate's wire and push it open so she can escape.

And, she's Beep's mom.  (Beep is now a house chicken who perches on shoulders and listens to bed time stories.  Geesh.)

Bad Chicken.  Thankfully, she'll go in without fanfare if I have the feed bucket in hand.  I'm on to you, lady.

And then there's Stella.  She is, literally and figuratively, the Black Sheep.

Stella will linger in the sheep pen and refuse to go out to pasture.  She will refuse to come into the barn at night and lure the others back out of the barn.  When I want her to go up to the top pasture, she'll go down, and vs.  She head butts my son.  Or, tries to, anyway.  She'll be the one making noise if she's not happy with something while the other sheep just accept it.

B-b-baaaaaa-d sheep.  (Ouch. Lame Joke!)

She keeps me on my toes, this one.  It'll be interesting to see what her babies are like in the spring.

If You Listen, You Can Hear

Can you see it?  Happy lettuce and whimpering basil.

Someone has been whispering to the plants in the garden the past few nights.  I heard rumors that he might be visiting, but I was hoping it was just that -- rumors.  But just in case the rumors were true, I tucked in some of the plants with a blanket of thick plastic in hopes that they could just sleep the night away, undisturbed.

Alas.

Some plants can handle the unkind words and are unaffected.  But, the more delicate ones have stories to tell.

As I was peeking at the sleeping garden babes yesterday, I heard something.  Or a few things.  It's like being in a school yard after something has happened and you're pretty sure what, but you want to hear the real story.

The tomato plants around the edges of the plastic blanket were shrinking back, shuddering, eyes closed, not speaking, hoping that he had gone away.

The basil took the worst of it; the tallest plants are black and blue -- they took the hit for the smaller ones, underneath.  The small ones, polite but trembling, "Excuse me.  Hello.  We are still here-- is he gone yet?"

All I heard from the squash vines was a small sigh. It's like they took one look at him and fainted dead away.   I cut what was left from the vines and brought them up to the shelter of the deck. Hopefully they are salvageable.  You'd think the big fall vegetables were made of stronger stuff.

The baby lettuces are happily playing on the playground, oblivious to the carnage around them.

Then there is the chard.  The Bad Asses.  They are the teenagers, having lasted all summer, leather jackets on, leaning against the wall.  "What?  Huh?  Jack Who?  We didn't see nuthin".

All I could do was quietly apologize, assuring them that, yes, he's gone for a little while.  But...
He'll be back.

Weekend Reading?

As the weather cools off and I find I'm spending more and more time indoors, especially in the evening and early morning, my pile of good reads is growing taller and taller:

Because there really is only so much housecleaning I can stand.  (It's not very much).

Happy Thanksgiving all!

Careful What You Wish For

It's amazing how one flip of a page can change one's perspective.  A page in the calendar, that is.   Presto! It's October.  Wow.  A few weeks ago, in a frenzy of harvesting oodles of goodness from the garden, I found myself drifting into a reverie of fireplaces, warm sweaters, cozy slippers and knitting.  How nice that would be, to have a bit of a break from all the harvesting and canning and drying and preserving.  Cooler October temperatures have called my bluff; I am in a headlock with brother Autumn and I am crying "Uncle!" at the top of my lungs.


Just a few more warm sunny days, Please!  I'm not ready!