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What's a little over four feet tall, made of scrap lumber and will help Chicken Mama keep warm this winter?
It's a sawbuck! A handy-dandy little apparatus that our daughter asked her dad to make for her to assist in her wood cutting.
Papa Pea whipped this up last Monday and it was waiting for Chicken Mama when she arrived to pick up the dogs that evening.
Wa-hoo, isn't it funny what makes a Lady Homesteader happy?
About three nights ago, we heard the spring peepers (tiny frogs only about an inch long) begin their lilting, little peeping song down at our pond. Now that is, for sure, a definite sign of spring. (Ya hear that Ma Nature? Spring is here! So how 'bout some warm weather now?)
This morning, we got a 7 a.m. phone call from the post office in town saying our chicks had arrived from the hatchery and would we please come pick them up. (Hear very loud peep, peep, peeping in the background.) This qualified as our second batch of peepers.
So off I flew trying to coax some warmth from the heater in my trusty old '85 Toyota Tercel so I'd have a cozy car on this chilly morning to transport the little guys home in.
They must have indeed been a little chilled after their two day trip from east central Iowa to northeastern Minnesota. (You would have thought they could make the trip in one day, but apparently not.) All snuggled together for warmth they were when we opened the box. Hi, guys!
We split an order with Chicken Mama so what you see here are actually four different breeds. Ours are Black Australorp and Light Sussex. (I'm sure Chicken Mama will post about her new babies soon.)
With just a smidge bit of help, they took to eating and drinking right away and are adjusting well to their home in the brooder we have set up in the garage. Chicken Mama will take her chickies home with her tonight and ours will stay here to grow into healthy hens. However, there's a good chance about half of them will be healthy roosters because the chicks are "straight run" which means they aren't sexed. So most likely we'll end up with about a 1 to 1 ratio of females to males. All but two of our roosters will find their way into the freezer and the hens will go on to be our new laying stock. Yay, new hens. Yay, plenty of eggs this coming winter!
We buried Zoey in a deep, deep hole in the garden this morning. We laid her on a worn, much used, washed-out quilt I had made as a cover for one of her dog beds.
Up until six months ago, she acted like a two year old pup. We wondered if she'd ever start behaving as a "mature" dog should. She was a happy dog and not much bothered her. We always marveled that she must have had a high pain tolerance because more than once while tearing through the woods on a hike with us (which was her very favorite thing to do) she incurred one minor injury or another without it slowing her down. Even when she was attacked by another dog and went through two surgeries, she handled her month's recovery with dignity.
Last fall we noticed the beginnings of a slight decline. She wasn't doing her "demented dog trick" nearly as often. (She would run at top speed around the yard, stopping to turn in tight circles while bouncing into the air at the same time, then zoom off before stopping to do it again. Ah, the sheer joy of being a happy, healthy dog.)
As one little affliction started to show up after another, we wondered how long it would be before she might be in pain. She never showed sign of that happening.
Even with her failing eyesight and almost total deafness, Papa Pea could still wake her from a sound sleep and she would gladly go out with him to do chores or take their morning and evening walk.
Last night she ate her usual good dinner. Chicken Mama was here doing some computer work for me and Zoey leaned against her leg for a long time getting some one-handed petting and lovin' from her "big sister."
As we were falling asleep last night, we both heard a muted clump-thunk. Papa Pea thought it was some wood shifting in the wood stove. Knowing Zoey wasn't on her bed in our bedroom, I thought the sound was her shifting positions on her bed in another part of the house.
We think that was when she collapsed. Papa Pea found her this morning on a throw rug between two rooms. She was lying on her side looking as if she was asleep. She didn't look as if she had suffered. She just went down.
Hard as it feels today, and no doubt will be for a while until we stop automatically thinking about her as the integral part of our household she was, we're so thankful she didn't have to spend her last days in pain and/or not being able to move about.
She's buried in a raised garden bed that will now always be "Zoey's Bed." I won't use it for veggies anymore, but just keep it covered with flowers.
Come on in! Sit down and join my pity party. I'll grump and groan and it'll be fun!
It's Monday night and I am going on my third absolutely crummy day in a row. Nah, it's not physical. Just mental. Emotional. "Just!?," she says? Ha! There are times when I think that's the hardest to cure.
Even though both hubby and I have had something unpleasant working through our innards, it's not the flu or a mild case of food poisoning. It's emotions.
Our temp this morning was 33 degrees, gray with a stiff breeze and . . . what else? Snow flurries. Is there no sun? Is there no warmth?
We were both awakened this morning by Zoey the Wonder Dog gagging and choking and sounding like she couldn't get her breath. She's being such a good old girl in her infirmity but every day she seems to develop another distressing symptom of being a very old dog. She has these little bad spells, then seems to shake them off. At meal time you'll find her sitting in the place she always sits while her breakfast or dinner is served up. Yep, she still has a good appetite but we marvel at where the food is going because she gets skinnier every day. Dagnabbit, you expect a dog's life may come to an end at fourteen-plus years of age, but it affects you in a big way just the same.
Hubby makes a point of taking her outside with him for fresh air and exercise at least twice a day thinking it's good to keep her moving as long as she is comfortable doing it. When they were out this afternoon, the UPS man came and Zoey almost (almost I say) ran across the yard to greet him. (He always has a dog biscuit for her.)
On another topic, I decided over the weekend that I am going to try to have enough soups made up and frozen to last us through this whole coming summer season. Papa Pea is a true soup aficionado and would eat it for all three meals a day. (How lucky am I?) What could be easier in busy times than to pull a quart of soup out of the freezer? So I started a big, double batch of chili this morning. Well, actually I began by starting to cook the kidney beans for the chili first.
I had some errands to run (one of which took me 20 miles round trip on a wild goose chase) so turned off the pot before leaving the house (good move, Mama Pea) and when I got around to getting back to them in early afternoon, I decided they needed just a little more cooking so turned the pot back on.
Then I left the kitchen to deal with a little crisis. (These seem to continue to be popping up with frequency lately.) Some time later when I came back into the kitchen, I found the lid on the kidney beans bubbling away and a puddle of kidney bean water oozing out on the kitchen floor from UNDER THE STOVE.
My beans had been left on too high a flame (ya think?), had boiled over, the liquid ran down through the burner and between the stove and cabinet next to it . . . and down on to the floor under the stove.
The good thing was the beans didn't burn. The bad thing was that I had to take the stove top completely apart and mop up the mess as best I could. No, I didn't move the stove to clean the floor completely underneath. I'm just trying to put what that must look like out of my mind. Will it dry out by itself? Will it mold? Will I lose my Betty Crocker official membership pin because I'm such a kitchen slob?
Well, I finally got my pot of chili made. But where was all my good kidney bean juice that gives the chili such a good flavor? On the floor. Under the stove. I added some more tomato sauce and water and said, "Good enough."
This has certainly been a rambling, nonsensical post, and I'm not sure my whining is something I need to share so I may not even hit the Publish button.
* * * * * * * *
Now I'm back Tuesday morning, dear readers. I didn't put the above post up last night because I didn't feel I had the gray cell capacity to decide if it was a good idea or not.
But guess what? This morning there is sunshine spilling down on our little haven on earth. And that alone makes things seem so much better and has encouraged me to laugh at my whining yesterday. I hope you will, too.
Although the lights didn't go out in our bedroom until 11:30 last night which is very late for us, we didn't have an alarm this morning either mechanical or animal. I got a good nine hours of sleep and feel as though I have the strength to get up and do what needs to be done today. So I'm off! (As a good friend would add, "But no more than usual.")
Happy rhubarb basking in the sunshine.
I made a pie last Friday that I haven't made in ever so long. And the way everyone oohed and aahed and smacked their lips while eating it, I'm wondering why I haven't made it in ever so long!
If you've got any chocolate lovers around, here's the recipe should you care to give it a try.
CHOCOLATE VELVET PIE
Cream 1/2 cup softened butter and 1 cup sugar. Blend in 1 oz. unsweetened chocolate (melted and cooled if you don't use the pre-melted packets) and 1 teaspoon vanilla.
Next add three eggs, one at a time beating well after the first two and then after adding the last one, beat at high mixer speed for 5 minutes. (This is important to get the volume you want in the finished filling.)
Using a spatula, pour/scrape mixture into a baked and cooled pie shell. Smooth the filling out to the edges of the shell.
Top with a sprinkling of grated chocolate.
(At this point, the pie can be frozen for an easy-peasy dessert at a later time. It freezes beautifully. You can either defrost it slowly in the refrig, a little more quickly on the counter or even slice and eat it frozen if that turns your crank. On a hot summer day, that ain't bad.)
If you plan on serving your pie the same day, it needs to be refrigerated for a couple of hours to set up.
It can be served without the dollop of whipped cream but . . . why???
Store any leftover pie in the refrigerator.
I know this pie is made with uncooked eggs and if that concerns you, you may want to skip it. Because we have our own home-raised eggs, this doesn't bother me a bit. We know our hens are healthy, we know what they are fed and how fresh the eggs are. I would not use store bought eggs or ones from hens I didn't know intimately. Obviously, feel free to make your own decision on this.
One of the benefits of being Mama Pea's daughter is that I know how to hack into her computer system. I'm taking advantage of that now to tell you that TODAY IS MAMA PEA'S BIRTHDAY! Wander over to my blog, won't you, and take a peek at the Mama Pea montage I've put together. :)I love you, Mama!!!!
It's a sawbuck! A handy-dandy little apparatus that our daughter asked her dad to make for her to assist in her wood cutting.
Papa Pea whipped this up last Monday and it was waiting for Chicken Mama when she arrived to pick up the dogs that evening.
They must have indeed been a little chilled after their two day trip from east central Iowa to northeastern Minnesota. (You would have thought they could make the trip in one day, but apparently not.) All snuggled together for warmth they were when we opened the box. Hi, guys!
Up until six months ago, she acted like a two year old pup. We wondered if she'd ever start behaving as a "mature" dog should. She was a happy dog and not much bothered her. We always marveled that she must have had a high pain tolerance because more than once while tearing through the woods on a hike with us (which was her very favorite thing to do) she incurred one minor injury or another without it slowing her down. Even when she was attacked by another dog and went through two surgeries, she handled her month's recovery with dignity.
Happy rhubarb basking in the sunshine.
Using a spatula, pour/scrape mixture into a baked and cooled pie shell. Smooth the filling out to the edges of the shell.
Top with a sprinkling of grated chocolate.
It can be served without the dollop of whipped cream but . . . why???
