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.  

One, Two Buckle My Shoes

Not too long ago in my early mothering days I swore to only buy slip on shoes, rushing about I didn't think I had time for anything else.  My mother who cared for a family more than double the size of mine wore down the backs of all her shoes, even sneakers and heels.  As a child I wondered why she did that, as a mother I understood.  

We now live at time where fashion is quick and even flip flops can be fancy.  Now there is no limit to the styles of slip on shoes available, but this summer I needed something different.  I felt an urge to be grounded and filled that urge deliberately through my choice of a buckle sandal.

I've been wearing these since our trip to Florida and I admit they've seemed inconvenient at times. I typically run about 15 minutes late to everything despite my harried efforts, trying all at once to tidy the kitchen, collect necessities, remind little ones to use the potty, and shove the older ones out the door leaves little time for the one in charge to buckle her shoes.  But that is exactly what I need in those moments.  

A moment to slow down, catch my breath, exhale and remind myself of what matters most.  I usually finish my buckling with extreme gratitude for my feet and hands that allow me the capacity to do many things.  This moment of buckling my shoes allows me to face whatever schedule or journey that I'm headed into for the day with more presence.

And the best part about it is these sandals are comfortable enough to get me through it all.

p.s. picked them up at Fourth Ave Birkenstock  

Grape Juice: Take I

We were surprised to discover many of our grapes were already ready last week.  These are wine grapes, we don't drink wine but they are sweet and juicy enough for juicing.  I admit we've got lots to learn, both about viticulture and food preservation but I had my first go at it on Saturday after Paul and the kids picked a large basket of grapes (I think there were probably 28 lbs in there).

I consulted with facebook friends, google, experienced sisters, my mom, MSU extension pages and a Ball food canning book with great anticipation.  The helpful clerk at Downtown Home and Garden noted both my enthusiasm and nerves as he loaded the van with purchased canning supplies, he wished me luck and handed me a flyer for an up coming jam competition.  

My kind neighbor from church Hermana Gonzales (who we are so blessed to be living across the street from) joined in the experience. 

She helped separate the grapes while the girls smashed them.  We told the girls of the European tradition of squashing them with your feet, I think they were tempted.  

Earlier that morning I had stopped at both a garage sale and a thrift store and luckily found one old wooden pounder at each stop.  I got them originally for making sauerkraut but found they worked perfect for the grapes.

This is the most messy and labor intensive way to process grape juice.  I have since been convinced to purchase a stove top steam juicer. 

After mashing the grapes I simmered them, I did this in three different batches.

Then strained them in cheese cloth.  Paul walked in on the process and wondered if it was worth the effort.  Hermana Gonzales quickly assured him that this work of our hands shows gratitude to God, more so than driving down to Meijers and buying a $.99 bottle of grape juice.  

I appreciated that perspective and also reminded everyone that this was more about learning a process than gaining a product.  We only ended up with 4 liters of juice from this batch but gained enough experience and confidence to go forward with more adventures in not just grape juice but all sorts of food preservation.

It was suggested to let the juice sit for 24 hours in the fridge to let all the sediment settle.  I did not have room in my fridge so we simply simmered it again then went right to bottling.  That was the most intimidating part for me.  I used the 1 liter Weck juice jars because I thought they were pretty and because I thought they'd be easier to pour.  But from what I read I was nervous about getting a good seal.  Peter cheered me on during the process and included in his bedtime prayer "please bless that the bottles will seal properly".  

Peter also chatted with me about all the crops he hopes to grow next summer.  He made some interesting observations about how different this juice tasted from grocery store juice.  He said it was like nothing he'd ever tasted, I don't know if that means he liked it or not but I think he liked that we made it ourselves.

I'm happy to report the bottles did seal.  You only need 2 clips but I used 4 (just in case).  

The clips are removed once the bottles are cool.  In the morning the boys said it looked like bottled blood.

James was a little sluggish getting out of bed and off to church so I gave him a quick shot of the juice.  I believe the strength and pungency woke him up.

I am also told this tastes great mixed with Sprite.  I think we ought to try that, along with bottling as much grape juice as we can this summer.