Howdy-Do

The fair is next week, but I thought I'd pop in with a quick "No I'm not dead" hello.

Hello. 

And:

It feels like fall, my garden has pretty much gone to ruin (stupid weather. And weeds), I'm sewing like crazy (fair stuffs), school will be starting in a few weeks, canning/freezing is omni-present, we butchered the roosters last night, we got 2 Delaware and 2 Silver-laced Wyandot hens (did I tell you that?), and then the Buckeye hen we had, the dishwasher just beeped, Sprouts asleep, the kitchen's a wreck and I must go.

Later Gators.

Gathered Up

Kind liking all the posts I've been seeing where all the pictures come first and all the chatting comes next.

I can hardly believe July is nearly over, that the fair is next month, that we'll be starting back up with school next month and that my BABY will be ONE next month. This year has flown.

This summer is flying and I can't think of a gol-durn exciting thing to write about. We've just been living.

The weather has been all over the place: cool. beastly hot and rainy. (B. sent us all down the basement the evening we got the flooding you saw in the garden pictures. Not real fun to hear on the news: "Don't look for the rotation before seeking shelter. The clouds will not allow it and any tornados will simply appear...") cool and rainy. beastly hot. no rhyme or reason and the bugs are so bad, not real conducive to playing outside. 

I'll be picking my first batch of beans tomorrow, and probably basil. Other than a little yellow from all of the wet, the garden seems to be doing good. It's grown even more since those pictures were taken.

And I get all crazy after a day of weeding, tilling and mulching and start taking pictures of my sunburnt  dust covered self.

I've got lots of canning to do, homeschool assessments to do, last years books to put away, this years to get out, fair projects to work on (and to decide what to do) and and and...

Tonight we're going to go get a few more hens. The 6 that we got a few months ago? FIVE roosters and ONE hen. Really. I think we go took.

Or someone knew what they were doing and picked out most of the hens, because really, even though they were straight run, to get only 1 hen? Something ain't adding up.

A snippet of home and farm.

Trying to slow down and savor.

The Flockette

Shunning the well meant advice of a friend, I called the Craig's List add and asked if we could come look at their chickens. Ordering the peeps we wanted meant we wouldn't be getting them until the beginning of September. And we (particularly B.) REALLY wanted Buckeyes. 

My sister who is working on replacing their flock came along, so armed with a Standard of Perfection list I printed off the 'net to aid me in determining the gender, we were off.

The rooster that greeted us at the farm was BEAUTIFUL. I hope we don't have one, they're too pretty to butcher.

The list didn't help me a lick.

I picked out 6 that I thought looked the most like they could be hens, handed over our (uh my sisters. We didn't have the right cash) $18 for the lot and headed home.

We still don't know what we have. Nobodies started crowing so I guess that's good.

 The 2 that Anna took home haven't either.

The kids say we have 2 hens and 2 roosters because "Two of them are huger." 

There were 2 age groups in the pen together when we picked them out.

The names vary by the day, but right now I think they're Ellie, Thelma Lou, Charlene Darling and Opie. (that one's Beanses.)

 Yes, we're big Andy Griffith fans. But those names are also switched up with the girls from 7 Brides for 7 Brothers. The kids favorite movie, pretty much ever. (Beans picking a song the other morning before Bible: "We sthing Besth Yoh Bufill Hie?")

They come running when they see the kids (and have since their first morning here) and are picky eaters. Won't touch fruit, can't get enough broccoli.

They should start laying around the end of August and we'll add more to the flock (different breed though) in the spring.

And B.'s already talking meat birds, a turkey, pigs and goats. 

~*~ Yes ~*~

Hay~

             B. cut about 1/3 of the hill yesterday before he had to quit or run out of diesel.

I'm guesstimating that it's about a 25x90 foot field. 

But math and I aren't real close friends, so I could be WAY off.

I picked a good hot morning (79 degrees by 9:30 with 82% humidity!) and raked it into rows.

Biscuit helped.

Pretty darn proud

hay (noun): grass grown and dried for fodder. (Or in this case to mulch our fodder, the garden. Close enough.)

The tomatoes are mulched and rain came an hour later.

Guess B. won't be cutting the rest this evening, which is kinda good because I'm pooped.

One thing about backyard farming: being too small for actual equipment, it's all man (uh woman and boy) powered.

Playing In the Dirt and Dealing With An "F" Word

That last part freak anybody out? Good.

Well, today is the first day of spring-yippee!

It's also snowing.

We planted seeds to celebrate.  And thumbed our noses at school to do so.

They way I've got it figured though, since we've been doubling up every day that we can, we'll still finish around Memorial Day. I hope.

Rebecca had the most wonderful seed starting post this morning, that I read while nursing Sprout.

(which is what I'm doing now too, if you were wondering.)

And so I got out *MY* enamel bowl because that is what Rebecca used and it was a good idea to steal.

Muffin jumped right in. She can be a little wary of things so this made me quite happy.

We surprisingly got more dirt in the cow-pots than we did on the table and floor.

And then we planted

Lots of things

With a good bit still left to do

"Take a picture of me hugging the bowl of dirt!"

                                 

AND THEN! I set them under the grow-lights! The ones that I was going to build with PVC pipe and shop-lights and that B. said "NO! I will buy you the set up for your birthday!"

And I said "Are you sure? That's a lot of money if I still kill everything..."

 And he said "Nonsense!" And here they are. I'm really excited about them!

Which brings me to: "The "F" Word.

F.A.I.L.U.R.E

I was wondering why I'm so afraid of doing things. New recipes, new projects, etc., etc. 

And then I realized I'm not afraid of *doing* them. I'm afraid of *failing* at them.

Of wasting precious time or B.'s hard earned money and having nothing to show for it.

I'm trying to change. But it ain't easy. Failure shows its ugly head everywhere: the bathrooms still waiting to be cleaned, the laundry that never got folded, supper last night which I've made plenty of times but yesterday just wasn't that good, the frustrated scoldings, memories of past gardens and projects that have bombed. Going to the store for much needed new clothes and coming home empty handed. Homeschooling and never feeling like I actually *taught* something. Things that others seem to breeze through and then give you a funny look about it when you can't.

 Because *I* wasn't good enough and *I* failed. 

Failed at being the right size, remembering an ingredient, understanding directions, failing at being a calm mama and counting to 3 before opening my mouth, getting started when I had the chance, trying to teach and wondering why b and d and p and q and g are still confusing Biscuit. Failing as a homemaking wife by not having clean socks and underwear for B. in the drawer, or remembering to stow a few rolls of t.p. under his sink for when he needs it.

But I'm trying, a little at a time, eating my elephant in lots of small bites instead of a few big gulps. I have to. I have 10 little eyes watching and taking it all in. And goodness knows I don't want to pass this on to them.

S'dang Cute

Unlike his brothers and sisters at this age, my Little Sweet Fat Plump Darling LOVES baths.

The second he hits the water he is splashing his little fat arms and legs for all he's worth.

And so the camera must come out to capture it all.

And yes, he really *is* that roly-poly and bitey.