The Resurrection

Once upon a time long, long ago, Papa Pea had an uncle who farmed in Wisconsin.  Uncle George had an old, much-used, homemade high-sided trailer (circa 1940).  There came a time when Uncle George left the farm and gifted the trailer to Papa Pea's family who still had two boys (Papa Pea and his younger brother) living at home.  The boys were very involved with 4-H and animal raising.

Once again, this trailer proved very useful and did a lot of work hauling cows and other assorted animals, bales of hay, fencing, gravel and garden tractors.

As a teenager, Papa Pea remembers putting new sides on the trailer so it could continue to do the wood work it had always done.

When Papa Pea and I were married in the 1960s, we inherited the trailer.  We used it in the moving business we had for a while along with doing general duty on our homestead in Illinois.  In the early 70s, it was instrumental in moving us up here to northern Minnesota.  In the summer of 1973, we made nine round-trips of 1,200 miles (with a two-year old spending a LOT of time in her car seat for every one of those trips) hauling all we owned to our new home.  The trailer contained load after load of household goods and everything related to homesteading we could move.  The last trip it held a donkey and two goats.

Once on Minnesota soil, there was no rest for the trailer.  Continuing to earn its weight in gold, we've used it to haul tons and tons including everything from horses to trail bikes, bales of hay from Canada, and snowmobiles for recreation.  It holds memories of kids perched gleefully high on top of bales of hay collected from our hay fields.  For years it transported bundles of firewood to a state park when we had a contract to provide wood for the campsites.  We've used it to haul umpteen thousand dollars worth of building supplies home from the big city.

In the late 80s, we rebuilt the trailer replacing the flooring and wooden sides again.

This is pretty much what the trailer looked like for sixty-plus years.  Good trailer.  Wonderful, extremely useful trailer.  We loved our trailer.

Then this happened.  In September, 2009, we had another one of our "once in a hundred years" wind storms.  The trailer was parked in the wrong spot at the wrong time.  It was crushed.  We were crushed.  When Papa Pea's younger brother in California saw the pictures, he said he felt like we'd lost a member of the family.

At first we thought there was no hope of resurrection.  Our neighbor in the heavy equipment business felt the frame was too damaged.  Then one day we were talking with D and he said he'd been thinking about the trailer and wondered if maybe it couldn't be salvaged.  So started a project that took three years to complete.

Papa Pea, good friend J, a nice day and a six-pack of imported beer.

The guys started the repair by taking off all the crushed wood on the sides and flooring.  (Just look at the number that tree did to the framing.)

Then we took the twisted skeleton to the local body shop where they straightened the main lower frame (where the axles were attached) which was severely bowed.

Next stop was out to friend J's, welder extraordinaire (more imported beer may have been involved), where all the steel sides were replaced and/or repaired.

Back home again where neighbor D confirmed that major reinforcing of the lower frame (which was nearly rusted out . . . how could that have happened after only sixty years of almost constant year-round use??) was necessary if the trailer was going to be road worthy again.

In his shop, D turned the framing upside down, cut off the axles, reinforced the lower main frame with new steel and welded the axles back on.

Then we put new decking on the floor and new plywood sides.  New wiring was completed.  Last but not least, new fenders were attached.

Here good, ol' trailer sits in all its resurrected (albeit muddied) glory, once again in service, holding a big load, this time on its way moving Chicken Mama to her new home.

With luck and lack of falling trees, this trailer will continue to be used for who-knows-how-many more years to come.  Our daughter will no doubt be pulling it down the road long after Papa Pea and I have gone to that cozy, little (restful, please) homestead in the sky.    

Dear High-Sided Trailer, it was a long, long three-year recovery period and you were sorely missed.  Great to have you back in service again! 

Of Blogging

In her post this past Sunday, that cute little farm gal (Amy) over on A Farmish Kind of Life, posed some interesting questions regarding the topic of blogging.

I started to reply in her comments section but quickly realized my thoughts on the subject were getting way too long and more appropriate to a post here.

I know I've made mention recently (probably more than once) that I've seemed to have lost some of my blogging mojo.  As Amy related in her post, others are apparently feeling the same way.  We are still blogging, but I think on the whole our posts are less frequent.  In my own case, it's not that I have nothing to say or am intentionally backing off from blogging.

So why ARE my posts less frequent?  Plain and simple, I'm in a period where I'm finding it difficult to fit everything I want to do into a day's time.  That means somethin's gotta give.  As far as discretionary time I do have, presently I have a real need to pick up my knitting needles and yarn or spend time doing some quilting.  I've always found that the creative process handwork affords centers and relaxes me, and when I don't fit it into my life to some extent, I get cranky.  So often I have to choose between going into my quilt room or sitting at the computer to write a new post.  You may have noticed quilting is winning.

True confession, I'm also feeling a little tired right now and my mind simply doesn't work as well when my wagon is draggin'.  Stringing intelligent sentences together is harder when my brain isn't operating on all cylinders.  Seems I used to have lots of introspective posts to share, but these don't flow out of me when I'm not feeling like the sharpest knife in the drawer.  The tiredness that is causing my lack of brain power can legitimately be traced to hard physical work which seems to be abundant on this little homestead currently.  (And was last summer.  And the whole year before that.  And the . . . oh, never mind.  I firmly believe it's better to wear out than to rust out anyway!)  But I think there is something else affecting many of us bloggers.  I have an intuitive sense that we are becoming a little beaten down by the general state of affairs going on in our country and world.  For the more fortunate ones of us the effect may be subtle, but all the same it's still here 24/7.

So why do I keep blogging, why do I want to keep blogging?  It provides a journal of our lives.  It gives a record that I can look back on for pleasure or to pinpoint some information I would otherwise have lost.  And for feedback; I'm always interested in your thoughts and/or opinions.  Also, for me, looking back over old posts is like looking through a photo album; the text and pictures of my blog jog memories I may have forgotten.

Being able to communicate with like-minded people through blogging has filled a void in my life.  I live in an area that is not farming or gardening or homesteading friendly.  There aren't a lot of people interested in living the type of life we do in our very sparsely populated county consisting mostly of wildlife, water, trees, and rocks.  There are times when I've felt as if I'm the only one attempting to do what I do.  My connection through blogging with people who hold my same interests and values is educational, inspiring, up-lifting, supportive and generally validates my choice to pursue the type of life I do.

I still read my chosen group of blogs and sincerely value the friendships I've made with other bloggers.  Admittedly, I don't take the time to comment as much as I used to.  That's not because I no longer find the posts interesting and entertaining, but because, once again, there is only so much time each day and right now, I'm making the decision to use it in the best way for me personally.

Whew!  See why I didn't leave this ramble as a comment on Amy's post?

Let's Talk Brussels Sprouts

I'll bet I sucked a whole bunch of you in with that titillating topic title, didn't I?

Both Papa Pea and I LOVE Brussels sprouts.  I've tried growing them without much success a couple of times previously.  This past gardening season, I gave them another try.

I have trouble (that's an understatement) with worms (shudder!) in my brassica.

So this year I followed the advice of the Agribon Queen, Sue over at Sue's Garden Journal, and planted my Brussels sprouts under a tent of Agribon. 

I also planted my broccoli under an Agribon cover and had wonderful success.  (It's good stuff!)

These days we're frequently enjoying fresh frozen Brussels sprouts as a nutritious, delicious green veggie with our meals.  But my harvest wasn't nearly enough to carry us over the winter months.

Matter of fact, even though I was able to grow them without any worm infestation (for the first time ever), I don't know if I will grow them again.

Why?  If the harvest from the seven plants I grew this year was indicative of the harvest I could expect to get per plant each year, I would have to devote a larger (much larger) part of the garden to Brussels sprouts.  The plants grew a good three feet tall and might have produced more heavily if I had given them a little more breathing room by spacing them out a little more.

When harvest time came, each little sprout had to be cut off the hefty stem with a sharp knife.  No quick task as the little buggers were stuck like glue and didn't relinquish their hold easily.  This proved to be a time consuming task for me.

Then (wormaphobe that I am) I soaked the whole harvest for a couple of hours in warm, salt water.  (Nary a worm to be found.  Phew, that was REALLY good news!)

Next I individually cleaned each one of the little miniature "cabbages."  Another stage in the process that took a long time.  Then I blanched them and packed them for the freezer.

I suppose when you get right down to it, it's a personal thing as far as the time, space and effort each of us is willing to give to a specific vegetable grown in our gardens.  For instance, I give a lot of garden space to rows of pea trellises on which to grow my shelling peas.  The picking of the mature pea pods goes rather quickly but sitting (for hours) and shelling the peas is an onerous task for some people.  But to get our winter's supply of fresh frozen peas, it's a task I don't mind.

Well.  I guess I'll be thinking over my little Brussels sprouts dilemma (to grow or not to grow, that is the question) this winter.  What do you think?  Will I grow them again next year? 

My Tummy Can Hardly Wait

No, I didn't bake our Thanksgiving Day pumpkin pie two weeks early.  It's just that I'm needin' some comfort food today and pumpkin pie with whipped cream does it for me.

To ensure we have a balanced meal before I dive into the pumpkin pie at dinner time, I have chicken (we have a lot of chicken to work our way through this winter) baking in the oven for the main course along with mashed taters and gravy.  It'll be Brussels sprouts for the green veggie.

My clock says it's only 3:17 now and my stomach is starting to growl already. 

Sittin' and Knittin'

I've been finding time lately to make like a little ol' granny plying my needles and yarn working on the afghan I'm knitting.

There was a time (I think about 40-some . . . no, closer to 45 or 50 . . . years ago) when I was on a real afghan kick and knit quite a few of them which I inflicted on various people as gifts.  I didn't keep track of how many I made, but I'll bet I'd be surprised if somehow I could see them all lined up together now.

But back to this current one.

I picked up a knitting magazine this summer showing this particular pattern and it really appealed to me.  (Gawd-awful choice of colors in the magazine, but I knew I could change that.)

It's made in five strips which are sewn (or woven) together.  This is the first strip I've finished.  The afghan is done in five different colors and with my daughter's input one day, I chose an off-white, a black, a lovely gray,  a forest green and a soft cocoa brown.  Each strip is made up of four rectangles, each supposedly 10" x 15".  I'm close to the 15" in the length of each rectangle but I'm going to have to do some blocking to get the consistent 10" width.

I started with the off-white yarn and this pattern.  There are five different patterns for the five different colored blocks.

Here's the black but, of course, you can't really see the pattern in it.  (I couldn't see it while I was knitting it either!)

I'm not particularly fond of the color gray, but really like this shade and how it looks with my other chosen colors.  (This picture doesn't show the color as it is in reality.)

This pattern in the green was the most complicated to knit in that I did have to keep track of the 18 row pattern.

Brown is the fifth color and the first block of the second row of strips.

The afghan should measure approximately 50" x 60" when finished.

I'm really enjoying the process (it's good to be doing some knitting again) and now that I've learned all five patterns, it should go a little faster.  I just have to find the time to sit . . . and knit!    

What Was I Thinking?

On the schedule for today:  Butchering 13 of our roosters and 2 of Chicken Mama's geese.  

We've been going through chicken feed at an alarming rate these past few weeks and our chickens that we got as chicks this past June are now old enough that we can tell the roosters from the hens.  That signaled time to butcher and send some chickens to freezer camp.

We finished the job about an hour ago.  Chicken Mama has gone back to Swamp River Ridge to get some things done there tonight.  Papa Pea and I are exhausted.

It took the three of us five hours from start through the last of the clean up.  Seems three people should be able to take care of 15 birds in a shorter time than that.  I guess we're just slow.  We did take a very short break for a late lunch but otherwise we just kept working away the whole time.  

If we had a poultry processing plant anywhere within 150 miles of here (we don't), I think I'd be tempted to take our birds for a little road trip and be done with it.

I thought I was being smart and got food for dinner halfway ready and in the refrigerator this morning so it wouldn't be so much work pulling a good meal together after we were done this afternoon.  Funny thing though, nobody was hungry for dinner.  What did I plan on making?  Chicken Pot Pie.  Bad choice.  (Chicken Mama said she didn't want anything with eggs either.)

Actually, she thanked us for the offer of dinner but chose instead to head out so she'd have some evening hours for getting some things done at Swamp River Ridge.  Right now, Papa Pea is upstairs in his office puffing on his pipe and I'm back here at my desk guzzling grape juice . . . wishing I had some egg nog.  Yes, it's out in the stores around here already.  They come out with it earlier and earlier each year.  All the longer time, before the actual holidays, for me to bulk up to 250 pounds . . . if I drank as much of it as I'd like.

Well, even though we have no egg nog, we may just drink our dinner tonight.  I'm saving the Chicken Pot Pie for tomorrow night.  Maybe.  If I'm over my temporary aversion to chicken by then.  What was I thinking?