Yep, profound, right? Well, it’s something we’ve been thinking about a lot since this past Sunday. It’s amazing how a traumatic experience can really reset your priorities. If you’re one of those “find the silver lining in anything” people, which we try to be, then you’ll appreciate what we’ve come up with — sometimes, you just gotta slow down. And in our slowing down, I’ve seen a lot of these. Sunrises, that is. Mike was always the morning chore person, since he likes them, and I DON’T.
Archive for March, 2012
First off, a big thank you to EVERYONE for such sweet comments about Mike. It’s like a warm blanket of “you’re not alone”, which is just what we needed. Ahem, SO, one of our friends/readers, commented on Facebook recently about making her own dryer balls. I think they are the most awesome idea, since we haven’t used dryer sheets in longer than I can remember. Plus, they are kind of cute ‘n cuddly. She, very kindly, sent me step-by-step instructions and photos so we can all have our own! Thanks Jaime!!
I guess they must read the blog, because on Sunday, Mike and I became very aware that those buggers had a vendetta against us. We were rushing to get fresh hay and water to the goats in between nasty rain storms, and as we pulled a fabric tarp over the feeder to cover the hay….a nasty, sharp bramble took a ride… Right into Mike’s eye. People say farming is hard. People say not being close to a big hospital is bad. We can now attest to them both. Here’s the story.
I’ve been meaning to tell you about good ol’ DE for awhile now, but wanted to test it out ourselves before singing its praises. Turns out its popularity is warranted. Food grade diatomaceous earth might just be the best homestead helper around (although it’s a close contest with free wooden pallets and hay, but I digress). And it can be your friend, whether you have several 100 sheep, or one little dog in an apartment. Why is it so great, you ask?
OK, OK…maybe it was just his cousin? Not entirely sure. But I do know it was Mike’s first successful hunting experience since we moved out to “the country.” As a Texan, I never thought hunting was a bad thing. It was completely normal. But then when I moved to WA state for college, I realized bringing up hunting was WORSE than politics or religion. Now, let’s be clear, I’m talking about hunting for food, not sport hunting. I’m NOT OK with hunting for the sport of it. But for food? How is that different than eating beef, or pork, or chicken?
I’m going to let you in on a little secret. We saw a glimpse of it last summer, but it has only grown in power. The secret, my friends, is peanuts. Roasted and salted, in the shell. Everyone loves them. The goats do. The chickens do. The dogs do. And people? People LOVE them. We’ve gotten into the habit of putting a bowl out anytime people come over, and they always get eaten. With a glimmer of childlike enjoyment, no less. Shell-on peanuts are WAY more fun than the shelled variety.
Did you know brambles are pure evil? Worse than nonfat yogurt, or carb free bread (what IS that??) — they exist simply to poke, tear, or rip holes in you. If Mike and I disappear again, it’s possible it’ll be the result of death by millions of tiny puncture wounds. I’m not kidding. And, I realize that I need a wardrobe upgrade from yoga pants to serious farm gear, because the brambles laugh at anything other than heavy denim. Imagine walking through a room full of scraps of pain causing velcro…wearing velcro yourself, no less. And you have an idea of brambles.
So, over the last two weeks or so, we’ve seen these bright green leaves popping up down in the hollow, where it’s rich soil but still a bit sandy. There is a huge cluster of them under a group of trees, and then others have peeped out from bramble tangles and fence rolls. The goats seem to have a “take ‘em or leave ‘em” feeling, and the chickens love to gather for their afternoon nap under the tree where the mystery greens are growing. We noticed a somewhat strong onion smell coming from the area, and thought they might be wild onions.
So, it wasn’t until we moved to the yurt, that I fully realized HOW back-in-time we’ve gone. It’s little things, like craving strawberries and not seeing them at the store (gasp! That would NEVER happen in the CITY!). Or watching a movie set during the Civil War and seriously empathizing with their daily struggles in a way I never have before. My Dad recounted a discussion with his high school students about heating with wood, and how “nobody does that anymore”. Um, we do. And, my Mom, laughing about “at least we don’t have to haul water”. Um, yeah, that too. For the goats, but still. Buckets of water are heavy, and walking down a steep, icy hill makes it even more “fun”.