How to dress for chilly weather

It was cold outside today but we knew that even before we checked the outside rooster.  The trouble is most our outerwear is still in the barn.  I've been waiting, begging and mostly nagging Paul to finish the basement here so I can have a convenient spot to organize and store it all.  

When I called for everyone to bundle up they got really creative, they headed straight for the dress-up box.

I've said it so many times before, I love the way children dress themselves.  It makes me laugh and reminds me of what really matters.  It reminds me that we can be anything we want.

Under this hoodie is a Wonder Woman-Sacagawea combination.  

Henry is Buzz Lightyear, Batman and a hunter.

And Clara makes the cutest little farmer astronaut.

George is still subject to my preferences, but he wears it as his own.

And then there's me, I'm still getting some wear out of some really old maternity clothes.  But the truth is here on the farm and  among our surrounding community there's no one to look you up and down, no one to impress and no one who would even cares about fashion.  I find it somewhat refreshing and have found a more practical and authentic me in the way I now dress.  

And as the weather continues to cool I may have to sew up a few more hoodies because this one is so warm and comfortable.  Or maybe I should finally make myself a maternity sized costume and join in the fun of the little kids.

A New Truck

It's been a long week with Paul out of town.  We took him to the airport early (6am) Monday morning and as we loaded half sleeping kids in the dark I declared this was the last airport run I was doing and it was time for him to finally buy another car.  Before we moved out to the farm Paul sold his Acura.  He said the country was no place for a foreign make.  I didn't care either way but was only irritated by the inconvenience of frequent airport runs with all the kids.

As we were gearing up Friday afternoon to pick Paul back up from the airport I got a call from him announcing: "I have some good news and some bad news".  The good news was he bought a car but the bad news was he'd have to drive it 750 miles home and we wouldn't see him until late Saturday afternoon.  I didn't get any more details  except it was an old Ford green and white pick up truck with a newly built engine that should be reliable enough to get him home.  And I'm so glad it did!  Here he is honking the horn up the driveway upon his return. 

After a big hug I chuckled out, "you bought a Matchbox Car".  Paul was beaming.  All the kids were invited up into the bed were Paul presented caramel apples from the local cider mill and random college T-shirts and hats from his trip.

I don't know all the specifics on the car except it is a 1973 Ford F-100 purchased from the original owner in North Carolina.  Here is the original interior:

Paul handed me the keys to give it a try and I'll say it's a nice little beast, not as tough to drive as the CJ-7  Jeep my Dad got us to drive in college but not as smooth and quiet as the van (which is not saying much).  As long as my belly can fit behind the wheel this may be a nice "drive into town" car when I'm down to just a few passengers.

Good work Paul!  I'm so glad you made it safely home and can't wait for you to take me out on a date in this truck.

New ducks

We picked up some ducks from a local CSA, The Bending Sickle Farm.  The boys brought their own cash, picked out their ducks and helped chase them down.  These are Runner ducks and very quick.  I bought the remaining three for the younger children to enjoy as well.

We transported them in some rubbermaid bins with the lids cracked for air and I have to admit not 15 miles into the ride home I was questioning whether George had a dirty diaper, the response was negative.  I asked again and again and even questioned Henry if he'd had a little accident, again no, it was the ducks!  They really stunk up our van, that's saying a lot since our van is prone to some rather stinky smells. 

We had originally planned for them to be secured in an empty horse stall for the night and left to free range during the day.  These girls (they are all active layers) however, would not be contained.  My boys learned the real meaning of a "wild goose chase" trying to corral them back to their intended shelter.  It was as if they were in a real life video game.  At one point, James assigned Peter to defense and William was on offense as they strategically went in on the ducks.

William has a way with birds, actually it's all animals, and he was successful in gently carrying them into the fenced-in chicken pasture.  With the threat of coyotes they actually got three into the coop with the hens, though I don't think the hens were too happy with that.  In the morning William found one duck egg in the coop and the three boys split is sunny side down.

Today they led three of them out to the pond but there was no recovering the others from the thick weeds.  Either way, none of our ducks are properly secure from possible predators so there'll be many prayers on the ducks behalf tonight.    

James' duck is a gray one named "Quackers", William's is a black one with pretty blue feathers beneath its wings, as soon as we got in the car he had named his "Daffy".  Peter's is the khaki one and named "Roundtree" after a football player.

I don't know what is more comical, watching the ducks run or the kids chase after them.

Thank you ladies!

Look what Peter found!  This is our very first egg and we have gotten at least one a day since then.  It was really good timing because I've been short on eggs since last week when a child dropped a whole dozen of our purchased eggs.

Not only did they give us eggs, but Judi was right, they've cleared a huge portion of our weeds as well!

We have since let them out into the over grown garden area and they are now busy at work on those weed (though it would probably require the work of 100 hens to get the job done there).

But more than anything else they have provided hours of entertainment for the kids.  I find them out there all hours of the day running with them, holding them, stroking them and even singing to them.  My favorite is when Maryanna claps her hands to "cupcake" (the latest name for the darker barred) and calls "come here girl" and as soon as the hen approaches Maryanna freaks out and runs away.  I also need to get Clara on video singing "Chiquitita".

I offered to catch a grasshopper for William to feed the chickens but he said that made him feel really uncomfortable.  He suggested we let nature takes its course, if a chicken wanted to eat a grasshopper they could catch it themselves (which I'm told they often do).  William asked me "how would like to be caught only to be hand fed to a larger creature"?  William spends the most time out there with them, he observes them for hours and could give a full report of their expected behaviors.  

Here's Peter in full costume enjoying the company of one of the hens.  

And even George finds his way into the mix.

Cider Pressin'

Fall is not complete here in Michigan without apple cider.  Oh how we missed it those years we lived in far away states.  During that time we went to extreme distances to fill that unique seasonal craving but most always left disappointed.  Any native Michigander will know what I'm talking about.  

Paul has harbored a fantasy of pressing his own cider for many years now so when the previous owner of our farm offered to sell us his old style wood and iron cider press, there was no refusing it.  Along with the press we have a few (somewhat neglected) apple trees, with a little more care we will have all the ingredients to make our own apple cider.   But this year our apples were mainly sourced from nearby orchards.  

Paul spent the past week visiting the local cider mills taste testing both the doughnuts and cider and soaking up as much advice offered from the kind experienced cider makers.  They were impressed by his interest and not only offered advice on the process but also gave him a great deal on several bushels of apples.  This year's blend included 40% macintosh, 40% paula reds and 20% gala (in addition to the small pile of our own).  And here's our set up:

The apples require a couple baths before they are ready to be processed.  

They are then sliced in quarters and tossed into the grinder.  We underestimated how difficult it would be to grind up the apples in the press - it was the most time consuming part of making the cider, but necessary to maximize yield.

We eventually adjusted the equipment and got into a good rhythm - but, like everything else here on the farm there is a learning curve.  And just like everything else we attempt here on the farm there are plenty of curious kids swarming around.

Oh the thrill of the first drops of cider!  Clara took a front row seat and giggled with every gush.  James caught a few drips to taste test and confirmed it was good.  He was also the biggest helper and with the Michigan football game on the radio nearby, he stood by Paul's side changing water baths, tossing in apples and dumping compost all the while cheering on scored touchdowns.

Paul worked hard and sustained one small cut and one bee sting.  This was satisfying work.

 We pressed the cider in about 4 different batches.  We worked for several hours but it was perfect activity for a perfectly crisp Saturday.  Besides Paul and I really enjoy working on projects together, it is working together on random tasks that our best talking and laughter happens.

The fresh pressed cider attracted both bees and children.

 The kids were mesmerized watching it and Paul remarked that it was among the most rewarding bits of work he has ever done.  We wondered if he'd be sore in the morning but he wasn't.

 Good to the last drop.

 We ended with about 4 gallons of cider and a small mountain of "cheese", the dry leftover pulp that was fed to our compost pile.

The cider party was brought inside because of the bees.  The cider is pretty amazing on its own but paired with a fresh cinnamon sugar donut to dunk it's even better.  The owner of the cider mill actually offered to sell Paul his doughnut maker but I'm pleased that he was able to walk away from that and simply bring home 2 bags of fresh doughnuts.

That same day Paul's parents actually treated us to a gallon from Franklin Cider Mill, the one we grew up on.  We did a blind taste test and though both were tasty, there was something extra in our own blend, I'd say it was the joy and satisfaction of doing it ourselves.  

Welcome Chickens!

The coop is empty no more, we have added 10 lovely hens, to fill our kitchen with eggs and fill garden with compost.  Though we are still anxiously waiting for the eggs to appear, in just a few days these young ladies have surprised us with much entertainment.  Especially to my delight, they have "gone bonkers" over all our breakfast, lunch and dinner scraps. 

From a kind lady off Craig's list here's what we added (at least this is what I think they are):

2 Ameraucanas

4 Reds

2  Plymouth Barred

1 White Leg Horn?

1 Cornish Hen?

Well, what ever the variety they now each have their own pet name thoughtfully chosen by each member of our family.   Presenting below........James' "Blanca", Maryanna's "Blueberry" (this actually changes daily, tomorrow it may be something different),  and Peter's "Mendori" (Japanese for hen) who is the pretty one standing right in the little doorway. 

And now........ Daddy's "Denarda" exiting down the ramp.  She got her name from Michigan's Denard Robinson because she is the quickest of the bunch.  And the dainty Barred below is Clara's which she named "Princess Buttercup".

William thought long and hard before naming his Ameraucana "Pedis Viridis", Latin for "green foot".  Sometimes William simply calls her "Pedi" and James suggested I call her "PV" since my Latin pronunciation stinks.

The rest are the reds and honestly I don't think any of us have been able to distinguish them yet.  But Henry, George and myself each have claim on one.  Mine is named "Chiquitita" from ABBA, and you can bet I'll be out there singing my heart out to this little red hen.

Henry has named his "Michigan Football Guy", there was no convincing him of anything else.

And since George's vocabulary has not advanced much beyond Mama, Dada, milk, apple, truck, up, down, choo-choo, shoes, hot, uh-oh, and stuck, the older children have decided to call his hen "Georgia".

So that leaves us with one unnamed hen and the children are still feuding over it.  Here is the list but please offer any other suggestions: Sariah, Rebekah, Nanny McPhee, Mrs. Weaseley, Mary Poppins, Sunny, Cinnamon, Doughy, Cupcake, Frida and the Little Red Hen.

The date of their arrival was facebook worthy, it was not a great day for me.  We had a nice outing planned "into town" to pick out yarn at the knitting store for winter hats, stop by the cider mill for treats, pick up a new feeder at Tractor Supply and finally get our chickens and bring them home before dark.  

Something told me to head first to Tractor Supply.  It was there that a very grizzly looking man approached my window (which freaked me out at first) and alerted me to the thread bear front tires.  I was wondering why the van was shaking so hard on the freeway. The man urged me to head straight to the nearest tire center (luckily just a few miles down the road) where the technician gasped at the condition of the tires and noted how luckily I was that I didn't lose one on way over.  I had no choice but to unload all seven kids, hand over the keys and wait for 3 hours!!!  I'd say that is enough to bust any one's sanity.  

The kids were good as they could be in a small waiting room, we watched TV, read magazines and I treated them to a packet of M&M's.  At one point I tried walking them down Jackson Ave but that was a bad idea, there is nothing lovely about a stroll down an industrial hwy.

Anyways, it was dark by the time we pick up our hens and I was tired.  We had arranged some large Rubbermaid tubs for transport and the older boys impressed me with their ability to handle the chickens. The chickens squawked and hopped and the girls screamed (because they were scared) and the younger two didn't stop crying until we were many miles closer to home.  When we got home I honked the horn for Paul to simply take over, and he did, even the squawking chickens.

When we opened the lid we were impressed to find that one of the larger hens had its wings over the others.  And I think the hens were impressed with their new home.

Paul is starting to feel and look more like a farmer now.

And Clara is still very nervous about getting too close (and too dirty).

A non-itchy princess dress

When I made a princess dress for Clara a few months ago I also offered to make Maryanna one.   But she insisted, "princess dresses are not for me".  I couldn't figure out why but didn't press into it far.   Just this week however it came out that "princess dresses are too puffy, itchy and long, and they are difficult to run and jump in".  So I told Maryanna to design a dress with the fabric I had on hand and I promised to make it soft and comfortable inside and out.   Here is her design (that was unpicked and re-sewn more than once until it was just was she had envisioned).  

   

Of course Baby Becca needed a matching one.  

To make it more comfortable the inside is lined with the soft white knit velour.  Maryanna said it is so cozy she might even wear it out in the snow.

I would have photographed them in a more active setting outside running, swinging and climbing but Maryanna encountered a little accident testing out the dress' mobility before it was even finished.  You see before the sleeves were set in and as soon as the bodice and skirt were attached she thought to climb up a door well (as she often does) just to make sure the dress wasn't too puffy.  Unfortunately the length of the slippery satin got in the way and she fell flat on her back.  No major injury resulted but she has a bruised hip and enough of a limp to prevent her from her usual activity level.  Instead she is most likely to be found slow dancing with Henry in the living room. 

When not being worn, the girls keep their special dresses hanging on hooks in their small bedroom.  I like that it is both functional and decorative, I also like that we have kept princess dress-ups to a minimum.