Moving day!

The great

‘Route 66’

goat drive

went fairly well. On Sunday morning two horse trailers showed up to take all the critters to their new home. One trailer caravanned the sheep and Paschal the Llama. The other carried all of the milk goats and kids. Now that they are here safe and sound I can say it went well, but… Paschal gave me quite a fit when it came time to harnessing him up, and the sheep went every which way which was not in the trailer were they were supposed to be going. So there were grain bribes and pleads there was begging and then there was……. sheep wrangling. They all got in the trailer.

I’m on a first name basis with most of the sheep. At least the females (ewes) but suddenly our dialog went something like this:

“OK girls”, I tell them, “in the trailer, were taking you to your new home!”

“uh,uh, Blondie were not getting into that box with wheels”.
"Oh come on, you’ll love it” I tell them.
“Excuse me…Do we know you”? “ Grain? No thanks”
The goats were a different story, they raced to the trailer with pure goat glee. Yippee ! were going for a ride! So we were off.

The Sheep arrived first, got out of the trailer and started munching on the thick lush green grass the second they stepped foot on their new land. Paschal wasn’t sure how to get out of the trailer so I had to go in and push him out. But he too found the grass and they were munching up a storm. Then the goats came. They liked the trailer so much they didn’t care to exit but it didn’t take long for them to realize the sheep had found some good stuff to eat so they would check it out and come back to the trailer if they so desired. (I didn’t tell them the trailer would be gone).

The first day and evening went well. Pascal was a little scared. When Llamas are not certain of things they make a small little whiny noise. It’s a very sad noise. After he has sized up the place he’ll be more comfortable but now his eyes are focused on the horizon and the tree line, scoping it out, sizing up danger. Milking however was slightly chaotic, to be expected. Everything is different. The walls have moved out, the stantion is not where it was before, and I’m milking on the opposite side as normal. I think the goats actually did better than their milk maiden. It felt as if I had never milked before. By just sitting on the opposite side I was totally thrown off. I still have a lot of rearranging to do, need to find to flow. Hopefully this morning will go smother.
The chickens come next. Their coup is all ready for them. Then, the bucks and Rams. Then the dogs, Ginger and Cosmo who will have a lot of work ahead of them. Looking forward to the whole family being together again!

It truly is so magnificent here. I’ve never lived in a place so beautiful and so full of mystery. I cant wait for some calm winter days of exploring with the goats.

Saying goodbye

After time the place we call home can become an almost organic part of our own physical body. We become familiar to a place like we become familiar to our own bodies, acutely accustomed to its unique personality and over time becoming one with even the sounds at night. The creeks and bumps become like our own heart beat. Home may be a sanctuary or a prison or subconsciously both, but it’s within us, part of us and we live inside of each other.

The place we call home is like the people in our lives. Ultimately no matter the depth of the relationship we’re still detached in true physical form, designed to move away from each other at any moment agreeable or not so. What we know to be true today just might not be true tomorrow regardless of our attachments or desires.

When I first moved to this nearly 7 acre piece of land I was overcome by its vastness. Living in Seattle my whole life, my eyes were accustomed to things at close range. I remember my first week here I couldn't see as far as the property line, it seemed so incredibly far away. At night the orchestra of sound was so new, so immense and foreign. I felt like a small tiny creature at the mercy of fate and dreams and fantasy, so pure so wondrous. Sometimes there were sounds at night that made my heart beat hard with fear. Unfamiliar with nature, I couldn’t define when night sounds were the natural settling of the house, the trees bending and giving in to wind or a dark creature or trespasser with ill intentions. The winter I spent mostly alone here changed me and forced me to address my fears and face the darkness with admiration and respect.

After 6 years my eyes have adjusted and the scope of my vision and senses expanded. Now the fence line seems close and beautifully comfortable but at the same time limiting. The sounds I hear now are enmeshed with the pulsing and currents of my own brain and blood. There is a familiarity and a comfort so ingrained within my life. I know all the trees on this land and have a special appreciation of their position on this peak. I can thankfully say I’ve never not recognized with stunning awe the sunrises or sunsets which are prominent features of this particular property.

Leaving this place I’ve become so familiar with is like being gently pulled away from a good friend to live a very long way away. The new place I’m going to may indeed be better for me on many different levels. I know this old place will always be a part of me and part of who I am, and even though I’m not really moving that far away the reality is I may never see it again. I think I should be sadder than I am, but the possibilities of my new world ahead are like the lust of new lover which transforms memories and emotions of the last to reduced proportions. So it’s easy to leave. Selfish indulgence of more life to be lived, more sounds to learn, more trees to become familiar with and a future of possibilities. I know I’ll feel my heart beating hard with fear at times, and it will take time for me to become familiar with the new land and its 400 acres of terrain.

As I pack the last boxes and get ready for the last time I’ll drive down the long cedar tree-lined driveway, I thank this place for being my sanctuary and at times my prison, but ultimately I thank this place for being so good to me and teaching me so much.

Sunday Breakfast

Pecan caramel pancakes with butter and maple syrup porter peaches.

With three fried eggs of course!

Makes a mess of cakes:
2 cups flour
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
3 tablespoons brown sugar
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1 1/2 cup goat milk (can use cow if ya have to)
3 tablespoons melted sweet cream butter


Mix the dry stuff first and then add the eggs, milk and butter. Just mix until incorporated. don't over mix. I use a large cast iron pan just coated with a little butter. You know what to do next.

for the peaches:

3 peaches, peeled and quartered

2 tablespoons sweet cream butter

3 tablespoons real maple syrup

In a small sauce pan combine and just slowly heat until butter is melted.

This would probabaly be really good over ice cream or poured directly into mouth!

Fry up some country eggs to balance your blood sugar a little or you'll be bouncing off the wall.

Happy Sunday folks. Off to pack and get stuff moved over to the new farm!

The in between time

There is a blanket of dew on the grass this morning. Something strange for this time of year when usually our clay soil here cracks with dryness, and the blistering late July heat starts early, before sun up.
The chickens are waiting at the back door. The reflection of the grass with the rising sun behind them makes them look like magical creatures. A rooster crows further off. One hen finds a tasty frog and runs while the others chase her insisting they found it first. I spy through the kitchen window with my first cup of coffee, letting my eyes move from the chickens right outside my secret perch to the sheep who seem miles away grazing. I can only see their silhouettes. Over to the right are the milk goats. They don’t seem to be in a hurry. They are un-uncharacteristically quite this morning. Sally is lounging on the pallet in front of the barn and it looks like Teeny, Racy, and Ling Ling are inside, the others are scoping for missed hay in the feeder.
I’m in between worlds right now. In between the new life and new farm that is about to begin for me and the Old life and this farm where I have spent the last 5 years studying the dew on the ground. But more this is the place I cut my teeth on farming. I still have a long way to go and I’m sure I always will but this farm is full of my firsts. First walks with my goat kids. First milk goats, first chickens, first births, first deaths, first chicken hatchings, first real garden, first cheese, first time being without power for a length of time, and on and on.
Now, I go from my school of self taught homesteading on 7 acres, (backed- up mind you, with multiple calls to real farming friends to make sure I’m doing things rights) to 400 acres most wooded, which I’ll simply watch over its grand beauty. I have a lot in store for me, a lot of lessons to be learned. There is a part of me that is scared. Scared I’ll fail. Scared I’ll let my animals down. Scared I’ll struggle. But I feel a call to move forward into this new chapter in my life.
So far I have moved about half of the things in the house. I have downsized considerably which has made me feel very good and clear about my intentions of simplifying my world. I’ve made multiple trips to the good will and I have a contribution to the land fill which I am horrified and embarrassed about. Going through this process has made me so aware of my own over use and overconsumption and excessive “stuff” gathering that I have so conveniently swept under the proverbial rug.
Working room by room helps, mindfully making choices about what belongs and what doesn’t. I sift through saved magazines, recipes, to-do lists, little random notes and phone numbers which I find is also a history, a journal in a way, and I wonder sometimes what I was thinking when I saved it. And, there is a part of me which wonders if someday I won’t be tearing the house apart looking for them in some great profound need. I finally decide No and in the trash it goes.
After next weekend the trailers come out and the friends gather and the great move is on. I’m looking forward to making the full transition. To wake up in the morning and drink my first cup of the day studying the dew on the grass at the new place. I’m looking forward to the new surroundings and the new trees and the new places to walk and new birds and the new bugs. But I am grateful to this place I have called home, grateful for the experiences I have had even though sometimes painful, I have had many moments of joy here.

Ol' Loud and clear ... a fish tale

Had an interesting day at the new farm yesterday. I planned for a day of fishing and relaxing and feeling all the wonderful new possibilities ahead. Had some friends over to join us and all was set for a splendid birthday eve day.

We were catching (and releasing) fish left and right, big mouth bass and small perch. I caught two fairly big ones. I will say, I am very inexperienced at fishing. I think this may have been my fourth time with the pole. I was across the pond from where Linda, a much more experienced fisherwoman was when I caught the one who I now call ol'loud and clear. A huge bass with a lot of spunk and very pissed off. Linda usually will unhook my fish for me and throw them back, but she was far away and I wanted to step up to the plate and not be such a girl about it. I pulled the big fish out of the water it was fighting hard. I grabbed it and proceeded to try to get the hook out.

"I'll get it for you" Linda yelled from across the pond

"no,no, I got it". "wait, no I dont got it, the hook is in its mouth and I do need your help"

Right at that moment the fish thrashed hard several times which then lodged the hooks on the other side of the lure into my fingers in such a way that one hook (barbed) had gone completely through my thumb and another hook directly in my third finger.

"Uh, I REALLY NEED YOUR HELP "

"be right there"

"I'M HOOKED I REALLY REALLY NEED YOUR HELP"

Well, I have to say after Linda's initial shock and horror she managed to get the hook out of the fish. I will say it was a bit painful, IT FRIKIN' HURT! the fish was very alive and well and thrashing about which helped the hooks go deeper and deeper. Finally, the fish went back in the water. and I was left with a fishing lure stuck properly to my hand.

Walking back to the truck to find wire cutters we were met by T who had a bit of a panicked look on her face.

"we have a big problem" she said
"really"? so do we"

"J" has a hook stuck in her finger" she tells us

"hmm, so does Lisa"

So now all four of us are back at the truck, two of us with hooks in our fingers. What to do? This is the strangest thing ever. J has been fishing since she was 6 years old and has never encountered anything of the sort. Her fish was just a little one, and they were fishing three ponds down. Linda had never seen anything like this either in all of her years of fishing.

This was not reassuring to me at all.

What to do? there must be a solution. We needed wire cutters for sure, which we didn't have. So I called the other friends that were on there way over and told them the situation.

The short of it is we successfully and pretty painlessly got the hooks out.

But, for me to see this as purely coincidental doesn't seem to make sense. One friend who showed up shortly after the "incident" and was moral support while we were waiting for the wire cutters to arrive, pointed out that I may not have introduced myself properly to the land. I've been coming and going. Moving this and that, in a hurry every time and then fishing and using the land when I saw fit.

There is no doubt to me that this land is sacred and there is no doubt to me this was a message that stated very loud and clear that I had work to do. I had a responsibility and I needed to become aware of my role here as care taker. I'm listening.

We had a fantastic dinner of smoked brisket, vegetable tatin, everything in the garden salad, watermelon gazpacho, cantaloupe and then, Mississippi mud pie and peach custard pie, lavender truffles, wine and laughter. And... happy fingers thanks to Carsten who was the one who skillfully removed the hooks from the two ladies.

Today I will return, this time to make amends and to properly introduce myself and state my intentions. I'll ask the land and all of its residents for blessings and protection. I will look at fishing in a completely different way and see the sacredness of the fish and their meaning.

Or Ol' loud and clear may need to send me another message. I will do everything in my power to avoid that.

all is as it should be

What a beautiful Sunday, slightly cooler, a light breeze and a slight chance of rain above us. Everything is how it should be.

The lavender dinners are behind me and I have the warm afterglow of all of the fantastic guests who graced us with their presence. When I woke up this morning I just had such a strong sense of pure happiness. Happiness and tear grabbing gratitude. What a great season we have had on this farm and the loving support of our friends and our guests who feel like old friends now. Its hard to believe the last farm table dinners on this farm will be in two weeks and then the page turns and a new chapter begins.

Tomorrow is my birthday I've established that I will be 43 (I thought 44 but a friend did the math and I gained another year) I must say I'm really looking forward to my next year of adventures, this time moving Living Kitchen and all of the critters to a new farm interwoven into 400 acres. Ah the story begins. Happy new year to me.

Sunday of course I indulge. I sleep in, and I eat. Sunday Breakfast is my most sacred meal. This morning as the biscuits were baking in the oven we went out to the garden and harvested 1 eggplant, 1 zephyr squash, a bunch-o-tomatoes, and several Italia peppers which we made a splendid hash out of. With two poached eggs on top and a ripe fresh picked cantaloupe it was quite a tongue pleasing ordeal.

Were off to the new farm to relax and fish and celebrate b-day eve with some friends.

Keeping fresh before me these moments of high resolve.

Sunday Breakfast

Toasted wheat bread slathered in garlic herb goat cheese, chopped bacon from Downing farm and a few slices of ripe peach tomato and black Krim. Topped with three poached farm fresh eggs and a pinch of Hawaiian sea salt.