radical simplicity

Life has been interesting this last week or so. I was going through a crisis period where I found myself wishing I had me a sugar daddy, that money would just fall out of the sky, and then BAM. We got what we needed, and I realized my longing for money, which I had initially dismissed as inherently evil, causing even greater tension within myself, was just a normal human thing, nothing to worry about.

I mean, I was chastising myself for wanting things like a house that looks somewhat finished! Hot and cold running water indoors! Money to pay off the last propane tank fill so we could get the next one! And maybe, just maybe, new running shoes. I'm a materialistic, greedy wench! ;)

It doesn't help that my spouse and I have entirely different attitudes towards money, and the handling of it. By most standards we should have been doomed a long time ago. But somehow through our differences we still see the value that lies within our family, and it is precious. But it ain't easy.

In the midst of it all I started reading Elaine St. James' book, Simplify Your Life. It came in a box of books I received from a local Facebook/Blogger friend (not the same one who brought the yeast; social media has been very good to me locally!) After the first few hints, I was almost laughing hysterically, while I realized "How could I simplify my life any further? If simplicity means getting rid of high heels and frequent restaurant dinners, I'm already way beyond there!"

I realize there are people out there living an overbooked, overly materialistic life. And the book was written in 1994, long before the bubble burst. But still...The Hermit and I were discussing the other day about bathroom plans, and we both decided why bother with an indoor toilet if we can get by (as we have, for seven years now) without one? Why defecate indoors? Why waste water flushing waste to a septic system? (we still will run washing and kitchen water to a graywater system)

I know, it sounds radical. But would it have sounded radical less than a hundred years ago, when outhouses were the norm and $20,000 mound septic systems were not required by law? Who decided we should not be able to make that choice? (Our township is one of the few where you can still make the choice in some circumstances)

Life as we know it is bound to get "simpler" whether we like it or not. For many of us, it's a paycheck away from involuntary simplicity. I don't have much time for magazines that preach simplicity but devote pages to expensive interior design and gadgets designed to help us "simplify" things. Real simplicity comes from living without, and making hard choices.

Egg comparison

On the left, a "local" egg from our very local huge chicken operation that stinks up the air regularly. Our school is downwind from this hatch house, and we always dread a wind from the northwest if there be football games, or baseball, softball, or track meets.

On the right, one of our homegrown eggs. They have not had any special organic feed, nor have they had much space to roam. This is just what it's like to have fresh home grown eggs. I can almost see the Omega 3's!

politics not getting in the way of life

I had a big political rant planned. In a nutshell, I'm tired of single-issue voters, or those who will allow a campaign sign in their yard for a candidate they approve just because of party affiliation. Or a single issue. Or whatever. We have a practically non-existent race here in the 8th Congressional District of Minnesota, and the one who seeks to unseat the incumbent just has not proven to me that he is even remotely qualified to represent all of northern Minnesota. Just look at his political vision, if any, here.

Yet, I have seen signs for this candidate widely distributed in this area. In front of abandoned farmsteads and soccer fields, for one. If I were a soccer mom, I would be outraged. But when a sign for this candidate is posted in front of a residence, I can't help but wonder why the resident agreed to the implied endorsement. I have three political signs in front of my home, visible to the perhaps twenty vehicles that pass by our road daily. We chose them carefully, not just because some party rep came around and asked if they could post signs in our yard. I thought about the candidates or issues I was endorsing. I wonder if anyone with a sign for the Republican candidate for 8th Congressional District of MN looked any further than "Pro-life. Anti-gay, Pro-2nd Amendment rights."

Also, would a candidate of this caliber adequately represent those of us in his constituency whose views maybe opposed his? I don't know. I don't know this about any candidate who runs on one or two issues and claims to have strong beliefs.

Okay, I maybe got my political rant in regardless. Anyway, today I saw three eagles perched in a tree near a hayfield where I have recently seen many sandhill cranes. And I went out of my way to see snow buntings, which The Hermit called me earlier to report had arrived. I was rewarded by seeing one flock.

At home, we had a good crop of winterberries this year.
The tamaracks are a lovely gold.
We have horses again. This is Shiloh.

And, here is our future egg supply.

I tried to get the pictures to post big, like I usually do, but it isn't working tonight.

Peace.

Oh, speaking of peace, someone in the vicinity of where I work decided that my "War is not the answer" bumper sticker, which reflects my hard-to-categorize religious beliefs, was somewhat offensive enough to black out the "not" with a piece of electrical tape. Unfortunately, I suspect first one or more of my coworkers, but it could also have been one of the school bus drivers in the town where my office is located; we share a building. While harmless shenanigans are the norm where I work, I find it reprehensible that someone would go so far as to interfere with my free speech. Peace, indeed.

Okay, so politics are getting in the way of life. Dang it.

Peace, again. And while I'm on a tangent, I saw a beautifully kept 1971 Volkswagen Bus at the laundromat today. I was so intrigued by it, my normally shy self pulled into the laundromat and asked the guy who was sitting outside if that was his Bus. He said yes, and I said it was beautiful. We used to have one like that. Long story. It made my day to see such a well kept relic of the 1970's.

guess what...

We have chicks. I told The Hermit we had so much going on this summer, I didn't think we had time for them, but...oh well. I like eggs. They're all girls. Buff Orpingtons, Black Australorps (assalopes :) and Araucaunas. For blue eggs.

Today I broke two strings on my bouzouki while attempting to tune it. They were old strings, I understand, and I had replacements, but...before today I had never broken a string, on any instrument! I know... that tells me I have been seriously neglecting this instrument, which I have. And, that generally, I don't play enough. Which I plead guilty to. I will try to remedy that situation. I did have a kickass session on it, after strings were changed. I'm almost ready to make a video and post it. It was that fun! For those left utterly confused, bouzouki= a mandolin family instrument in a lower tuning, generally an octave lower than your regular mando but there are lots of variations. I mostly do GDGD tuning.

The goose is in, and other news

I finally got that darned goose back in the pen. Today's sun was strong enough that it softened the snow around the gate so I could dig it out enough to open the gate about one foot. Then I threw some feed inside the pen, and chased the offending goose towards the gate with the shovel. Success! But did the goose thank me? It acted like it was happy to be in, but it still hissed at me. Oh well.

Why do we keep geese, anyway?

I finally saw a few snow buntings today. I had to take Calvin to a friend's house, and on the way home I took a detour to a road where snow buntings are often seen. We had traveled that road yesterday with no buntings. Today I had better luck, with a small flock of about six snow buntings sighted. They will be heading for the Arctic tundra soon.

While I drove around, I was listening to one of my favorite radio shows, Celtic Connections on KUMD out of Duluth. I just love Celtic music, and I enjoy playing it, but I'm afraid it's time to take the flute in for another tune up.

Practical homesteading question re: geese

Our flock is currently down to three chickens and three geese (who absolutely refuse to succumb to anything) in our poultry pen outside. A couple days ago, one of the geese decided to spread its wings and see what lies outside the poultry pen. It seems, however, that it cannot get back into the pen. Because of snow, I can't open the one obvious door that would let it walk back into the pen. So what do I do?

I tried one experiment, placing a 2 x 8 plank against the 4' fence so it would provide a walkway for the goose to return to the pen. The goose has not figured it out in over 24 hours.

I just cannot get close to this hissy goose. Out of pity I left it some cracked corn outside the pen. But, how do I get it back inside the pen?

And why am I even asking this? Darn geese. Good for nothing honkers.

Simplifying ain't easy

The horses are no longer here. The sheep will be gone by the end of the week. Gone, to good homes. We can no longer take care of them.

It's a huge admission to make. The Hermit was always more the animal caregiver than I was. I do not have the will, nor the energy and time, to take over bringing water and hay and feed across the creek, not to mention to the small pasture on this side of the creek. The sheep are easier, but the effort we put into caring for them is still too much at this point. We need to get down to the basics, and build from there as we are ready. Which is maybe what we should have done from the start. I think we got into too many animals too soon, and it distracted from our main goals.

I asked The Hermit about the horses tonight, and he didn't even want to talk about it. The horses were his thing. I respect that.

We still have chickens and geese and rabbits and dogs and cats. That is more than enough.

I am relieved.

happy critters

It was cold this morning; our thermometer, which tends to read cold, said 15 degrees at sunrise. So naturally, the kids were reluctant to bring the bunnies outside right away. Instead, they created the "Mini Lop Hotel". Sweet. The Hotel, by the way, is a doll house built for me by my grandpa. Of course I had to pass it on to my daughter.



Why do these sheep look so contented? Because they just spent the day outside, grazing on fresh grass, while we moved their pen. They were good sheep, not straying outside the bounds of home and yard. And now they have a pen that isn't so spongy with layers of hay and sheep droppings and rain. I was thinking, I could really get into being a shepherd; lots of time to think, and play banjo.

We also got the young chickens moved from the chicken tractor to the main chicken house, and I weeded a couple garden beds, then The Hermit moved four loads of dirt and composted horse manure from the horse enclosure. It was a farmy kind of day, and I enjoyed it.

what I haven't posted about lately

We've been raising chicks, again. We got them about three weeks ago, and they have been inhabiting the cook shed, but they were getting too big, and the poultry dust was just settling all over everything, so...

Today The Hermit revived our old chicken tractor and moved the brood out there. They seemed to enjoy the space, and grass. I even brought them out a treat of maggots I found in my kitchen compost bin. Yuck, I know.

I can't even tell you what all the breeds are. We had had a few beers before The Hermit got the bright idea of logging on to Murray McMurray and ordering. We do have some funky Polish chicks that are starting to get their headdresses. All girls, I'm tired of roosters for now. We have one that won't shut up.

They're enjoying their new digs. And I'm enjoying the few extra square feet of space and lack of poultry dust in my kitchen.

having way too much fun

If I haven't posted regularly this last week, it's because I alternated between days when I was hyper busy and days when I hung out around the homestead and had some fun.

The Hermit had a business meeting in Pittsburgh, PA the first part of the week, and when that was over he spent a couple of days with his parents near the shore of Lake Erie, Ohio. So I was in charge of kids and the herd of animals that make up our pseudo-farm here. But The Hermit had hired a neighbor to look after at least part of the herd; this neighbor requires some supervision, but I was happy to see he really was diligent at feeding and watering horses, sheep, and the like.

I had made arrangements for the kids on Tuesday and Thursday, the only days I had work commitments. I took the other days off, without regret. Although we have been fortunate to have a good daycare center nearby, we decided, for various reasons, to avoid it for this summer. Instead, Calvin was able to go to a friend's house the days I had to work, and Tuesday I had someone I knew from church watch Starflower and Mr. Attitude. Thursday was one of those serendipity things; we had arrangements for the kids at another church member's house, but it turned out a neighbor who lives less than two miles away, whose husband is pastor at another church, and who has picked up the kids every Wednesday night for Bible study, agreed to watch S and Mr. A. Thursday. She's a really terrific person, and I'm glad to know her now as a neighbor and friend. What a community we have around here.

It really is not realistic to think that one can work a full time job and care for the animals that make up a homestead. The only other people I know of that are "homesteading" around here have one full-time breadwinner, interestingly the woman in each case, who spends a huge amount of time away from the homestead to earn the money to keep that kind of lifestyle going. In our case, we both have full time jobs, and we don't really have any farm income. The Hermit works from home, allowing a bit more time flexibility than would be available in most two-income households. But when he has to be gone, I really notice just how much of a partnership this is.

To be honest, I would much rather not be working the job I have full time. This week, the days I enjoyed most were the days that I spent out in the garden getting things planted, being attentive to the household and doing what needed to be done there, and planning and cooking good meals for my family. Last night we had venison sloppy joes, homemade potato salad with garden fresh green onions and arugula, garden kale pan fried in bacon grease, and watermelon. I could not have cooked that meal after a full day's work. And I had way too much fun planning and cooking it.

But for now, economics demand that I work. Personal sanity demands that I take some time off, like I did this week. I'm walking the fine line here, until I win the lottery. :)

the joys of country life

We were awakened at 4:30 yesterday morning by the sound of Hopi growling from the foot of Starflower's bed, which she has claimed as her sleeping spot. Her growls turned to barks; prior to this I didn't think she even knew how to bark. Sally, usually the more vigilant watchdog, who sleeps at the foot of our bed, often on top of my legs, gave a slight growl but must have been satisfied that Hopi did an adequate job of alarm barking, because she fell asleep again.

The Hermit turned on the back light to reveal a herd of cattle, probably seven of them, meandering around the back yard, licking grease from the bottom of the grill, looking for any other sources of food. He went outside and chased them away; eventually they ended up back at the neighbors' on their own.

Our neighbors across the road keep a small herd of cattle on their too-small pasture, and their fences are notoriously unreliable. One day a few years ago we found a newborn calf abandoned in the woods near our house. We get cows coming over to our place a few times a year, sometimes eating our animal feed and leaving piles of free fertilizer everywhere. The neighbors are always apologetic, but they just don't get it. Part of being a good neighbor around here is keeping your animals where they belong. Although these folks can be hard workers at times, they just don't have the reasoning ability and common sense it takes to be good farmers and neighbors. They also don't have enough income from their disability checks to invest in some fencing, and their sister who lives up the road, who owns the cattle, won't even bother to give one of them a ride to the doctor's in Duluth.

We put up with it; they could be worse, at least they're not running a meth lab or anything. And their place is close enough to the road, and the sight of a grown man riding a bicycle in circles in the driveway likely makes anyone think twice about intruding into our place.

On the wild side, the kids and I saw a pair of fishers, an uncommon sight, running across the road just south of our place. Fishers are probably the porcupine's only natural predator.

How did they do it?

I grew up in the suburbs reading Laura Ingalls Wilder's "Little House" series. I started reading it a year or two before the watered-down version showed up on TV (although Michael Landon was good). I often dreamed of myself as a pioneer girl, living out on the prairie and growing a garden and running through the grasses and gathering wildflowers. My mom even made me a long dress with matching sunbonnet. I guess I can count myself lucky I still had a mom that knew how to sew.

I also read "The Long Winter". At the time I could not imagine a family living out a blizzard winter in a building with no insulation, with nothing but some begged and borrowed grain to eat, and furthermore, burning hay in the stove for heat, spending long hours twisting it into sticks so it would burn just a bit longer.

Of course the question never came up: just where and how did they go to the bathroom during the long winter?

Now that I've lived through a few winters under what most would call fairly primitive circumstances, (just see my post on outdoor showers for a primer) I am still amazed. Today we have all kinds of modern miracles like electricity, and generators if you're not hooked up to electric service (been there done that), and fiberglass insulation, asphalt shingles, EPA rated wood stoves, and the like. Today was cold, hardly rose above ten degrees with wind that bit like lightning, and all I wanted to do was stay inside by the wood stove fire. We hired the neighbors to tend the horses and chickens and sheep for the week while The Hermit is at a meeting; I could not imagine doing chores after work, in the dark and cold. But still I took the day off work, mostly to get the laundry done (laundromat) and keep the house warm.

I know Charles and Caroline Ingalls mostly didn't have 8 to 5 jobs to tend to in addition to maintaining the homestead; that cannot be done. But still I am in awe of the fact that they did it. That all of our ancestors did it, and only recently did we invent central heating and grocery stores with deli counters.

I'm in a survival mode here; for the next few days it will be driving kids to school and daycare, tending dogs at work, and worrying about coming home to a cold house, then starting a fire and cooking. I know, we should have purchased one of those oil-filled electric heaters to keep on safely while we're away. Hindsight is 20/20.

But still, my survival mode is wimpy compared to that of 100 years ago.

for Jim

1940 Farmall H

getting pickled

My DSL connection is running slow tonight, as it usually does when it rains, not that I mind the rain.

I took the day off, since I have to give up this Saturday in service to the state, and because The Hermit had business to do. And I had pickles waiting to be made. Canning is a big time commitment; not the canning itself, but the preparation. I had to locate enough wide-mouth canning jars, wash the dust and bugs out of them, and cut up garlic and harvest more dill heads. I found out it takes a long time to get the canner to boiling on my stove.

The end product was eight quarts, a full canner load. Two of these were my first batch of fermented dill pickles. They look really bad, since the brine gets cloudy from fermentation and someone happened to spill some red Kool-Aid in the bucket yesterday! But I checked them carefully, and they weren't slimy or smelly, so they were good. I have about four more quarts bubbling away in another bucket.

The way my family goes through pickles, this batch will last all of two months, maybe.

tangled up in blue

I wish I could take the credit for harvesting these, the best blueberries I have ever tasted. But the credit goes to a berry farm I just found out about, six miles away from me as the crow, or more likely and picturesquely, the raven flies. I found these at the new farmer's market in the nearest town; $2.50 per pint when I bought 8 pints. Tomorrow we'll have blueberry pancakes for breakfast, then I'll be jammin'!


I can take credit for these, however, my first ripe tomatoes of the season. These are all Sub Arctic Plenty, I think; a suitable name for this climate. I also picked two ripe Yellow Pear tomatoes, but the evidence was quickly digested. :)

chicken surprise

eggs- not just for breakfast anymore

I knew we had some broody hens sitting on eggs, I just never imagined they would be successful! So far only one chick has hatched, but there are lots more eggs.

Witnessing first hand the cycles of life, birth and death, never fails to amaze me.

new lawnmowers

By the way, there are three of them in the picture. I just noticed the front one looks like it has a head growing out of its butt!

I can now add "shepherd" to my resume. We've been talking about getting sheep for years, thinking they would be quieter than a lawn mower and fresh wool to boot. Well, last week The Hermit found these three lambs who needed a new home; their previous owner had gone to a nursing home and the family was anxious to get rid of them. When The Hermit picked them up they were in a small dirt enclosure, with no access to fresh grass. They won't have that problem here!

This is the "fortress" we built for them yesterday. We added a tarp for shade at one end. When all the grass is grazed down, The Hermit will just hook up the tractor and pull the fortress, sheep and all, to a new patch. Right now they're working on the side yard of the new house.

I'm off to look up carding and spinning equipment on Ebay! Okay, maybe that's a ways off in the future, but it's something to think about!

we'll wonder what we ever did without it

Yes, that's me behind the wheel of our "new" 1940 Farmall H. The Hermit found a deal too good to pass up, and, well, you know men and heavy equipment. It even came with a bucket, which will be ideal for getting the horse manure from the pasture to my garden beds. Of course, in the winter we can use it to plow snow from our long driveway; our suburban snowblower just wasn't fit for a country driveway.

Now if I just had more land to plow, to grow my own barley for beer...

at peace with the "farm" life

I have never wanted to "crow" on this blog about how I've found the ideal, simple, sustainable country life. Because I'm still working out the many details and mental adjustments of it.

In fact, more often than not, I'm raising my hackles about one aspect or another of animal husbandry.

I will even tell you I'm not much of a horse person.

But, truth be told, the more time I get to spend with the animals and thinking about my gardens, the more I like it, the more I gain the confidence that I can do this.

I have had the last two days off of work while Calvin goes thru yet another mild virus, enough to keep him away from school but not enough to keep him off video games. Go figure. But, instead of blogging the day away and wishing I was at work, blogging the day away, I have found a lot of things that need doing around here but haven't because I or The Hermit have been at work. And I have found the ambition to actually do some of them.

I wasn't raised on a farm, and it's been an adjustment having animals to care for. Also, we pretty much jumped in over our heads, to put it mildly. If I had it to do all over again, we wouldn't have horses yet, and our chicken order last spring would have been much smaller. But you live and learn.

It is a lot easier, however, caring for animals when it's not -10F outside and you have a bit of time to putter around. On a nice spring morning like today, I can go out there without bundling up; even the jacket over my sweatshirt was a bit much. And without having a time schedule to adhere to, I do things that otherwise would not get done. I pitch up the hay the horses have torn loose from the round bales and rolled in and spread all over. I gather the hay that has been too trampled and dirtied for the horses to eat (spoiled creatures, they are) and bring it over to the chicken yard. The chickens appreciate having a layer between them and the mud, as well as the occasional grass seeds to eat. I gather all the old dirty eggs from the nest boxes (a couple broody hens have made this more difficult) and put fresh hay in the boxes so the eggs will stay cleaner.

I stopped short of cleaning out the floor of the chicken coop today, that's a task in itself, plus there are a few mean roosters that make the job more challenging. A few too many; chicken soup, anyone?

I'm starting to think I don't really miss my job on a day like today, a spring day with fresh air and the smell of damp earth so full of possibilities. If we had the house done, and all the bills paid for, would I really need to go back to that job and do mediocre things for fisheries resources? The satisfaction of placing my online seed orders this morning far eclipses anything I could do at work. I got my heat mat out today, the one I put under my seed flats, and the smell of the rubber warming in the sunlight really got me going; it brought me back ten years when I first started starting my own tomatoes and other plants. I may plant lettuce and greens yet today; I'm warming the potting soil in the sun right now.

Ah spring, so full of possibilities.

p.s. I found out today it's really, really hard to take good chicken pictures. Believe me.

inspiration comes in strange places

Warning: composting toilet talk ahead. You've been warned.

I'm feeling more confident in my "spirituality", for lack of a better term, these days than I think I ever have been. I feel okay admitting I don't know all the answers, even though I'm pretty sure of how I should lead my life. As for a God, no doubt, I can see it in the daily miracles of life around me. However, I don't believe this higher power is asking me to read a certain book, follow any particular practice, or identify with any organized religion. It just wants me to realize my abilities and live in harmony with the other species that inhabit this place. To do good things.

I found inspiration this morning in the music that surrounded me: The cacophony of about 5o evening grosbeaks with their shrill chirps filling the crowns of the trees; the welcome honking of Canada geese, back from a long winter journey; the spring songs of chickadees; and what I thought was the warbling song of the first bluebird of spring.

I found inspiration in just doing a job that needed to be done: I cleaned out the composting toilet. Yeah, I know, how does one possibly find inspiration in THAT?

The composting toilet is one of those port-o-johns we bought from a relative in the business when this place was a weekend cabin. This year, instead of adding liquid deodorizing chemicals, which really don't do the job and keep things an anaerobic, gooey mess, we just went with the bucket toilet idea and added wood shavings and sawdust with every deposit. Much more easy on our senses and the groundwater. We built a compost bin, and have been transporting the products there occasionally. Well, today things were starting to "top out", so armed with a spade and a bucket, I set out to make some space. No, it didn't stink; it smelled more like the wood shavings, until I got down towards the bottom where things were saturated and anaerobic. There had been enough warm weather so things weren't all frozen together. I ended up hauling about ten five-gallon buckets to the compost pile, where the stuff will hopefully heat up and break down into rich organic matter. Returned to the earth to build the soil, rather than flushed into the ground or into a wastewater treatment facility, then to a river. Instead of stepping aside of the cycle of life, I am in it up to my elbows, so to speak. And got some great exercise as well.

And how many folks can say they cleaned out the composting toilet, THEN went to church sevices? We hadn't been to church for months, but Starflower wanted to go and I went just to see how everyone is doing there. From my above writing, you may be surprised that I would set foot in a Christian church service at all, but I do care about the people there, who helped us out at a time when we needed it, without passing judgment or requiring anything in terms of a proclamation of faith. There were a lot of people there who were really genuinely happy to see us again, and I could say the same.

The service itself was somewhat lacking; I found myself biting my tongue and restraining myself at the too-right-wing interim pastor's sermon when he talked of how drunks and homosexuals would not get into the Kingdom of God, and how he referred to a tribe of Native Americans as "naked savages". arrrgh. And the second hymn was "Onward Christian Soldiers", probably my least favorite hymn, classified under the heading "Spiritual Warfare" in the hymnal. arrrgh. But I also found that when I am challenged like that, I tend to think about why it is I react the way I do, and the thought process helps me better to define my beliefs. So I get inspired, not in a raise-your-arms uplifting kind of way, but in a roundabout questioning way.

There you have it. I managed to work birds, humanure, and church into one post.