Adventures of Middlest

Still broken- but mending! I went to the Orthopedist yesterday, and my x-rays show some bony callus forming around the break in the scapula. I have the clear to start using my arm from the elbow down, and to use my left hand to start moving my shoulder up and down (not out), by lifting the right forearm. So, I have lifted my right hand onto the keyboard, and my ability to type is much improved.
Summer is officially here, I suppose, as yesterday was the last day of school. My house is as quiet right now as if they were in school. Could they all have returned to their beds? Certainly possible, and with the teens, probable.
As I wrote that, I then heard out the window the melodious sounds of hogs, and Youngest who is taking them for a walk. Must post some hog pictures, they are funny, and quite large now. Heavy enough for the NFL.
But today's picture posts are of Middlest!

My Beautiful Middlest Daughter, has now finished the 8th grade. At the end of the school year the school holds "The 8th Grade Formal". As I'm sure you can imagine this causes a great stir in the world of the typical 8th grader. Middlest is more stoic. She hunted around the closets for a dress, and that was about the most of the fuss. I was still unfocused enough to lose track of time. So when it was nearly time for her to leave I was pleasantly surprised to see her head downstairs completely dressed, with hair done by big sis. Wow!  And, I tried not to make a fuss about it, but she had a date! He and his mother kindly came to collect her for the dance, and brought her back home afterwards. They had a nice time, and even danced together!

Middlest is a farm girl. And in true farmgirl fashion, she went out the evening before to play with her baby geese, forgoing shoes for the occasion. ( I have a lot to say about this unwise decision- there is a blog post with a picture of one day's collection of ancient rusted metal bits and nails collected from the ground, and likely another on the pile of glass accumulated over an afternoon's weeding. In two hundred years of humans living on this farm, there is much you'd want to leave out of your feet). But in this case, her foot found neither nail nor glass shard, but honeybee? She said bumble...

But, if you look at her legs, you'll have no trouble telling which one met the bee.

I can imagine dancing was not especially comfortable.

Middlest and Date.

 The weekend brought the next Pony Club lesson. I was still not driving, but Huz stepped up to the plate and gave driving the trailer a try. He did very well and made it to the practice in record time. When we arrived, it became clear that the kids were riding on the Cross Country Jump course. This was Middlest's first go at official cross country fences- but I've been sneaking them in on her for years. She did a great job! Patches was full of energy, but all of it positive, and Middlest and Patch took it all on easily and with alacrity. My girl kept her eyes up!

Huz operated the camera (it's an SLR, and hard to operate one-handed). His pictures captured the beauty of the day!

The pair were the first to lead off on the final test which ended in the water fence. Water is an uncertainty for horses. Many of them just won't do it. But eventing horses must. They can't tell how deep it is, and it is scary to them. Once they enter the water, they relax when they find it only fetlock deep! As they progress in their training, they must trust the rider that aimed them at the obstacle that it is safe, and in they go- full bore.

Next year.

porch eating, porch swinging!

still broken...so, picture,it is!

the porch is open! ahhh, spring.

babies! because im broken.

i took flight off oslo's back (with his assistance, of course) last week while jumping. a wall stopped my forward progressiuon, and i got broken. so...typing-as you may have sumrised- is slow going. instead, i'll share pictures!

the baby geese are growing!

Henri meets a baby goose for the first time.

ducklings growing too!

China made my kitchen blue. Ish.

China. It is really far away. It takes a long time to get there, and ironically not the same time to get back, which I know makes sense to some people, but always completely confuses me, and becomes just one of those things I have to accept, like daylight savings. Huz has been taking teaching trips to China periodically since Oct. 2010, when I accompanied him and found out just how far away China happens to be. Well, in April, he took what I hope to be his last China trip for a while. I am not a good single parent. When Huz is gone dinner is usually up to the kids, cereal is fine by me. We watch bad movies (okay, well, we tried to do this but the movie was so very bad that God suggested we turn it off by zapping the power for a few seconds, and after that happened, we realized the big guy was watching out for us. New Moon from the Twilight series was, I believe, melting our brains) and American Idol. My legs don't get shaved. Which, I realize doesn't necessarily make me a bad parent, but when you have hogs, it is probably sanity saving to have some standards. (Unlike daylight savings, that makes sense to me).
The other thing that happens when Huz goes off somewhere is I do some sort of home improvement project. This started early in our marriage when I realized "off to work for the day" wasn't  a long enough "off somewhere" to knock out a wall and put in french doors. He kind of freaked out about the hole in the wall when he got home. Now, I must point out that it is completely unnecessary to wait for him to leave anymore before I go sledgehammering stuff, because several home remodelings later, he has learned to say "Wow, the wall is missing. Looks great!" Pay attention, young ones, this is what makes marriage work. But, when he leaves and I no longer have to make dinner, shave my legs, or go to bed, I have a perfect opportunity to completely wreck something, and then put it back together before he walks in the door. Now, what with occasionally trying to be a professional in a job, and constantly taking care of a whole passel of critters, I sometimes don't get around to making plans. So, it happened that I found myself on Wednesday night, in the kitchen doing battle with flying ant things that presented themselves en masse- thousands of the suckers making their way between the window and the trim - on the INSIDE. Ew. I have found Simple Green to be rather effective in swift insect death- which makes me wonder about its ingredients...my other enviro-cleaners don't have that result- and then I just have to mop up the billion bodies. Well, while I was doing this, it occurred to me : Why don't I paint the trim around this window? See, when we did the addition and renovation in 2007-2008, I didn't completely finish the kitchen before we moved into it- the disadvantage of living in your home while you renovate, and doing all the finish work yourself. So, there was trim work left undone. And, we lived with it. I even liked my kitchen. But, it always bugged me. "Gotta get back to that!"
So, I conceived of the notion to simply do the top coats on the primed window trim over the sink. Which, by the next morning had morphed into a trip to the lumber yard to purchase what I still needed for the finish work on the whole kitchen. To be fair, it didn't need much, I have a lot of lumber still around, some of it I have already put through the router and the salvaged old trim, which I believe is walnut, and heavy and so very dense. So I got Middlest to haul the air compressor out of the basement when she returned from school, and my nail gun, miter saw and I got to work. The trim work went up in spare moments over the next day or two, and by that time the project had enlarged to painting the kitchen. It had been a neutral creamy white/yellow, but I was ready to move on.
So, after Pony Club, a trip through town to collect a gallon of "Sea Sprite". I guess one of the advantages of re-doing so many houses over the last 17 years is paint choosing is no longer a  mystery or effort. I can go in, pick out a square, and say  "That's it!" buy it, and I'm right.
So, at 9 pm, the night before Huz is to return from China, I started painting the kitchen. My mom says we work best under pressure.

So, Youngest took my picture on top of the fridge preparing to paint the walls. I didn't move the fridge, as I normally would've, as my back is not up to moving large appliances. So, secret, the wall behind the fridge, down low where I couldn't reach- it isn't painted "Sea Sprite".

I put two coats on the walls, and several on the trim and then, all that was left was to put the kitchen to rights before collecting Huz.

The finished kitchen. Okay, maybe I should've taken the time to organize the shelving below the island, but this is exactly how it would look one child's cooking project later, soooo.....

The dominant feature in the kitchen is the island, made by my dad and me a few years back. I blogged about the island a year or so ago. My kitchen is an exercise in ingenuity. When we did the renovation and the addition to the house, it was on a budget. Not the kind of budget you read about in the magazines, but my kind of budget. So, when the builder learned I wanted to keep the kitchen simple and inexpensive, he added 16k. to the estimate. I giggled, and said, no... my kitchen will be less than $1000. He didn't think it could be done, but by that time, he was interested to see what I would do.

Kendra and I built all the shelving- no cabinets, Dad and I built the island, my sister contributed the sink from her old farmhouse, I made the counter tops, painted the dinged up dark wood floor, and voici.

I ask you, with a kitchen that has a fireplace and this painting of the house (prior to our stewardship) over the mantle, how could I go wrong? My kitchen!

And, when Huz got home from China? "Wow, the kitchen is....blue? ish? Looks Great! And, we have trim! Wow!"

I'll admit, my "you went on a business trip re-dos" might be a passive/aggressive way to make him afraid of leaving for more than a day, but at least he sticks to the script.

Gettin' naked, down on the farm.

WOOHOO!!! Hot Girl under a bear skin rug......?
Well...hot girl wearing muck boots lying on the dirt floor under a fleece.
 Incidentally, she's also wearing jeans and her tank top, but I was a model once, and I learned the eye only sees what it wants to see.
And because I was there, and equally decorated, I will add we are coated in sheep lanolin, dirt and poop.

Mother has kept us on our toes with 80 degree days in March and 30 degree days in April, but it seems the irises think it is time to begin their show, and they know the Mother well, so, I can't argue. When the irises bloom it is time for the sheep to get naked. This is a process every year. I have been so lucky to have Kendra, or her Dad willing to come over and take it on. But, I'm thinking Middlest will have to start stepping up soon- she's getting pretty strong, and this is her flock. In the meantime, Kendra made room in an afternoon to come tackle the ewes. I was "helper" and photog.

The first step is to ask the ewe to stand on a blanket. This is Dolores, and we are using Samantha's winter blanket (horse). Then, you ask the ewe to "sit pretty"....

We have exceptionally calm and easily handled ewes, but the truth is they don't actually sit on command. It does take some persuasion. Here, Kendra has begun to shear the belly of  Dolores. My job is to help hold her up so she can breathe, and keep the poop swept off the blanket. I don't know why I bother, it isn't like she has been averse to flopping down in poop for the last year, but it just seems more fastidious. Besides, those clippers are fierce! They are happy to take skin with fleece. In fact, in about three minutes, Dolores will wiggle, and loose a sizable chunk of skin, which I will debate about sewing back up and decide to treat topically with pain numbers and antibiotic creams. Kendra will feel awful, and I will beg her not to quit.

The clippers, close to a fragile part, and Kendra taking it slow...



The fleece comes off to reveal the creamy white underside of the fleece, and a beautifully white sheep underneath. I have to mention this is not necessarily the conventional way to shear sheep. But we aren't as fast as the pros, and the girls should be as comfy as possible while enduring their spa day.  

We have to periodically call a halt to the job to scrape out the build up of the lanolin in the clippers. It is thick, like dried wax, but so very oily. My hands will be dirty, but wonderfully soft.

Dolores is shorn! All that is left is to take the fleece off like a too-warm sweatshirt.

And, Kendra peeks through the neck hole, also demonstrating her Herculean strength. These fleeces are heavy! Note, that this is not a good fleece this year. Dolores' fleece for 2012 is too matted. The length of the strands are not uniform and the crimp of the strands is only nice near the base. So, the negative is it is not a good spinning fleece. The positive is we have an excellent Halloween costume for Youngest this year, should he wish to be "a wolf in sheep's clothing".

Up next is Dancer, who has a better fleece. She has a "duck rump" appearance due to the crutching I performed prior to lambing this winter, but that part of the fleece is a throwaway anyhow, as it if full of poop and dirt.

Her fleece was soooo heavy and not matted- a real challenge to keep on the blanket. But, she was patient, and Kendra revealed her silvery grey base.

Dancer is in there! Her fleece is flipped up over her head like a princess prom gown on a girl trying to use the potty. She is lying on the floor and Kendra is working up her shoulders and neck. My job is to keep a breathing hole open for Dancer. The blue is the halter around her nose and the mouth and nose are to the right of the halter. Even her eyes are covered. Again, not the typical sheep, nor the typical method of shearing....Unconventional, that is how we roll. You might be able to note in this photo that the wool strands are all about the same length, and the crimp part is the same all the way down each strand. This is a better, fluffier fleece with tones from gold to  gorgeous silver.



The fleece is also enormous. I tried to get a picture that would give you the idea of how big it turned out to be, and so had Kendra kneel behind the fleece for comparison. That is when we started joking about how luxurious it looked- our version of the cliche bearskin rug....and after that, our laughter got the better of our sense.

This is Blondie, wearing a toupee. The fleeces have to dry before being bundled and skirted. But there is no where on the farm exempt from dog/goose/chicken/hog feet and general interference. Kendra thought of putting the fleeces on top of the horse trailer. Brilliant! So Blondie is finally blond!

Blink.

The chicks and ducklings and goslings are a-growing, smelling more everyday. The goslings continue to be the most adorable, and Middlest can't resist them. She has gleefully taken them up to bed with her for snuggle sessions, leaving a towel covered in goose poop each time. I can only hope her future spouse is tolerant and understanding.
Huz is home from China, busy, busy week without him. I do a LOT of driving these days.
The asparagus is in full force, so asparagus with every meal. Now, we are behind already on the vege garden, and when will that happen? Who knows?! But, I can only hope, somehow, it happens.
The hogs are growing, and happy buggers, they love to be scratched, and are always looking for a treat. Youngest walks them everyday, and he is starting to see some results in the responding to commands game. It is a bit less of a chase the hog around exercise and more of a direct the hog somewhere one, but still a long way to go before entering the hog show ring.
The lambs have been pulled away from their mommas to be weaned, which makes everyone unhappy. They all bleat and cry incessantly, loudly, mournfully. It is not comforting enough to hear each other, it is still too far removed. The horses have moved out while the weaning is happening. Too loud, too unhappy in the barn. The only one seemingly unconcerned is poppa sheep. Cesar just wants to be fed and scratched as usual.
On, and on to each day.

Chicks, man.

Spring is a frantic time on my small farm. An extra evening hour of daylight does not save me from the chronic issue of tomuchtodo. Last year, we skipped adding baby chicks to the list and thus our youngest birds are two. Their best laying year is already behind them, and with all these chickens, it would be nice to have adequate eggs to show for our efforts. So, this year was bound to be a chick year. A few months ago, I compiled the list of wanted babies and placed a pick-up order at a hatchery in Polk, Ohio. I did not know where Polk was, (and having been there, I can't say I've changed that status) but my new Tom Tom(a.k.a "NewJane") from Huz figures these things out! So Tuesday morning, after chores and getting Youngest on the bus, neighbor Lindsay and her son- new to chickening -walked down the lane to join Middlest and me in my New Denty, a.k.a. Chameleon, for a NewJane guided drive to Polk. It was a gorgeous day for a drive, and was about 2 hours or so north of us, north of TBC even! As we were getting close we began seeing signs for "Grandpa's CheeseBarn". Okay, sounds promising. I like Grandpas, Cheese and Barns, my kinda place! It turns out our companions had been to Grandpas and made some fond memories. We exited the highway where NewJane said "Exit right", and what do you know? Grandpa's CheeseBarn is right there. Can't fight fate.

Grandpa's is the land of the sample. One pass through, and no one needed lunch anymore. Middlest and I deliberated, and I purchased a triple cream Bergenost, a sage Cheddar, a Garlic Cheddar, and "Grilling Cheese", which is an experience for cheese lover, Youngest. I also purchased local honey and a mix of gluten free Killer Mudd brownies. We then put our purchases in the car and entered the barn next to the CheeseBarn. This was "Sweeties" which is a chocolate and candy shop. Overwhelmingly tempting! I purchased dark chocolate pecan turtles, one for me, one for Middlest, and our companion chose a cashew turtle. Lindsay was far too principled, and just smelled the chocolate. Now, if Grandpa only had a wine shop.... my version; Disneyland.
On to Chicks, man. A few miles down the road we turned a bit here and there, whatever NewJane dictated, and arrived at Meyer Hatchery. Let me say, that I am fascinated by the Amish. I would like to be an Amish stalker. If I had the choice of going to L.A. and trying to spot the "stars", or going to Amish country, and spotting the Amish, I easily choose the latter. I haven't asked for any autographs, but I seriously want to climb into the back of the buggy and hide. At Meyer, there were Amish. A Amish lady even drove up in one of the black box buggies with a little boy in the back, probably two years old. He was adorable, with his long hair and hat pulled down on his head. He had little button shoes and a dingy blue coat held together with safety pins, the big kind you use for diapers. He had pink cheeks and bright blue eyes and was interested in the bags of feed in the supply store. His mom, after tying the rein of the horse to the hitching post went back into the buggy and retrieved what I assume was a baby. It was completely shrouded in a black cloth, with a black baby bonnet, and not a bit of the baby was showing. It also didn't move, so it could have been an Amish doll, except it was bigger than a usual doll, and she carried it carefully like a baby. I realized I was being stalkerish and trying to strike up a conversation, and following the little boy around, so I stopped. But it was tough.

Note the buggy at the hitching post on the left. It's like seeing Matt Damon.

On to Chicks, man. We entered the store and gave our order numbers. Soon, someone came out with our little box of wildly peeping chicks. We paid and got our NPIP pollorum papers- APHIS legal, we are. We wandered around a shopped a bit. Middlest really wanted a sign that said "WARNING! GOOSE WITH BAD ATTITUDE!" Which, is true, and may be wise to post, but then the next person he dismantles could sue us, because we knew he was dangerous. Roulette, baby. Drive down Cowfeathers lane and you could lose some flesh. We did purchase some little cups that will be useful at The Fair for food and water in the poultry pens. Now, to race home. The chicks, you see, have hatched and not been fed, nor given water for maybe 24 hours. They do need these things, even though they are equipt by nature to not need them right after hatching. They also need warmth. 95 degrees. So, we baked ourselves a bit on the way home, the peepers boxed and sitting on kid laps for extra warmth.

At home we got the babies situated in the brooder, which for us is a baby pool in the mudroom. It has shavings, covered with newspaper for the first day, a waterer and a feed station. A heat lamp is shining down on one area, so if they feel cold, they will gather under the lamp. 12 baby chicks, man. I think. They're hard to count, because they aren't very still.  They are very fuzzy and cute. Apparently, I ordered Australorps, Ameraucaunas and Partrige Cochins.

But, our fuzzy, cute baby critter count was not done. The next morning, I waited for the 7:30 a.m. phone call from the post office alerting me to my box of babies waiting there. These babies were from the land of the "stars", California. Travelled a long way to see the Amish.

The newcomers are baby ducks and baby geese!

This is a baby Toulouse goose. Baby geese are the cutest of any baby feathered creature. Even the gander babies are adorable. This in direct contrast to their future personality. They make the most adorable "weeppeeppeep!" happy noises.

Jules is very invested in the babies. She would like to take one with her. They are good for hours of staring, because Mom has declared no tasting.

One of the goslings has a drink. They scoop water into their beak, and then throw their head back and move their beaks open and shut.

In order to get the babies used to people, this is me, on the computer, writing this blog. We hold the babies when we can, and talk to them. And, buttoned into my shirt, I have two hands free.

Bloggin' down on the farm, Amish style, with Chicks, man.  Wow. I am so uncool.