My Blog Will Start Up Again in the New Year, but Untill then...HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!

This is from last year, we don't have snow yet.

As the year closes,
We sit back and reflect on the fleeting 12 months
That seem to pass so quickly.
Invariably our thoughts go to friends and family,
Both near and far
In not only distance but in time as well.
So to your family from The DaM Farm,
Merry Christmas!
May the glow of the fireplace stay in your hearts
And may the New Year
Bring your dearest hopes and dreams to reality.

View from the Porch, 7:20 A.M.

Almost 7:30 in the morning and sunrise isn't even thinking of breaking. Not so long ago the sun was greeting me at 5...A.M....in the morning.

But today is the Winter Solstice, shortest day of the year. I know a lot of people think this is wonderful because the days will start getting longer and the worst is over. But I know the coldest weather is yet to come and I won't notice the lengthening days for another month or so, I'm sure. It's like the Summer Solstice, the days start getting shorter but no-one notices and the sun is really just starting to warm up.

But never mind. Winter Solstice has a charm and a comfort all its own. It is a holiday of little fanfare and even smaller commercialism, and that's the way I like 'em!

Christmas Goats

She sat on Santa's lap and mugged for the camera as prodded by her mama. After the picture was taken Santa asked her what she wanted for Christmas.

"A goat," she said as her blue eyes sparkled in the reflection of the tinsel. "A little grey goat with white, floppy ears." A little goat who is so happy he's gotta bounce. "

After the little girl left with a shy smile and a wave. Santa mused to himself. "A goat. What an unusual request."

Not really, Santa; not at all. Click here

Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop

There's no snow but the trees are bare. The temperature is in the single digits (C) but not to the freezing point. The squirrels scamper through the yard with their cheeks bulging but the call of the Canadian Geese are silenced, they have packed up and headed south. The colours are washed out, like a favorite pair of jeans that you hang on to even though they are thin and ragged. Winter's coming, he's just dawdling. It's not like Winter to be so sneaky. I suppose he's having way too much fun in other parts of the country to make his way here yet.

Pumpkins on a Gate

The title sounds like something on the menu of one of those restaurants where the "ambiance" costs more than the food. You know, the type of restaurants that spring up in touristy areas promoting down home, old fashioned cooking (usually with imported food). But I have to admit, the pumpkined gate gives off an ambiance all of its own without any hype or spin. It's quaint, old-fashioned and charming. It's also totally unplanned and truly did spring up on its own.

A long, long time ago (last spring), Don made new pen for the baby chicks from the three broody hens. He bought a very large and deep storage shelf from work so he turned it on its side, stuck doors on it, made a few air vents and ta-dah! a chook coop! Worked well, too. We kept 24 chooks in that thing. Of course, they were only in it at night, but still it was roomy and airy and sooooo easy to keep clean. Don even put a window in one of the doors for the chicks so they could look out in rainy weather. The only problem was the afternoon sun. Except for right behind the coop, there was no shade at all. So I made a little strip of a lasagna garden by the fence to cut the sun's blistering heat and create some shade. I planted snow peas, sunflowers, corn and nasturtiums. The snow peas and sunflowers never stood a chance. They were planted right by the fence and the chicks ate the young plants as soon as the little plants poked out of the ground. The corn is ragged, having their lower leaves torn and shredded by little curious beaks, but the corn is tall and strong and their yield is good. I suppose there are a couple of nasturtiums in there somewhere, overshadowed by the broad pumpkin leaves.

I never planted pumpkins; they were pop ups from the compost I used. I'm used to having pop ups now. I enjoy them, actually; it's like Nature is adding her own special touch when I plant gardens. Pop ups confirm the co-operation between myself and Nature. So when I noticed the pumpkin plants, I thought, "Oh, that's cute, kind of like a miniature Three Sisters Garden." Pumpkin plants by nature are a curious lot, always exploring. They grow and stretch and stretch. These found a gate that was beside the pen and started growing through and up and over it. The gate is sturdy and strong and I knew the pumpkins wouldn't wreck it, well not much anyhow. I think it looks really interesting. I can't wait to see what it looks like once the pumpkins turn orange.

Earl Was a Fizzle

A little rain, a little wind, I've seen worse. And that's fine by me. I'd rather be over-prepared than under-prepared. From what the forecasters say, Earl moved eastward so we were spared the worse.

Waiting for Earl

For about a week now there's been a lot of talk and reports about Hurricane Earl. It's been tracked meticulously by weather and news stations constantly. As the week and the hurricane progressed so has the warnings. It is actually predicted that good ol' Earl has a fifty-fifty chance of hitting Nova Scotia as a category 1 tomorrow, but that might change. It seems to change on an hourly basis. I tend to look at weather reports with askance. In my opinion, they're wrong more than they are right. And my neighbour thinks they're making more out of this than there really is. He's 86 and he's seen more weather than these young hot-shots on the tube with their images and computers and cool colour mapping of Earl. But you never know. I learned my lesson about that being on the island less than a month with a blizzard I didn't really take seriously.

In the time I've been here, I've seen remnants of tropical storms and they can be very destructive but they will likely pale beside an hurricane, no matter what category it is. So I'm going to hope for the best and prepare for the worse. As I do so, a little niggling worry rattles around in my heart. I can clear the veranda of loose items - needed to be done anyhow. Don can make sure the generator is gassed up in in top working order. I can take in all my gardening tools and make sure the tomato teepees are sturdy and anchored well. I can take a good look around the chicken coop and make sure the windows are in tonight and that the lights are working. I'll do head count and re-do it just to be on the safe side, I'll make sure the Coop Cat is in. I can make sure there's lots of food and water - it's harvest season, we have oodles of food. But there are some things I cannot protect, there's only so much one can do. The corn and my beloved trees are on their own. I'm glad we topped the trees earlier this summer, that should help them stay resolute against winds that are predicted to top 120 k/h.

Hopefully it won't be as bad as they say but if it is at least I won't be looking for my wheelbarrow in the next county when it's done. Be safe, my neighbours, my trees, chickens and garden.

My Poor Trees

A windy day is great, usually. It keeps the bugs, heat and humidity to a minimum and I get lots of work done. But sometimes the wind gets way too high and confident and it decides to take on my trees. Sometimes the trees win but sometimes they don't. After years of doing battle with the winds and the seasons a tree will finally succumb and lose a large bough or even collapse completely.

I was in garden trying to convince the weeds I had the upper hand when I heard the all too familiar sound of the splitting of wood accompanied by a groan as the branch let go. I went to investigate and found that a trunk of a tree had split right where it forks, way up high. It was a big bough, if planted, it would have looked like a well established tree.The only reason it hadn't fallen was because other branches were holding it up. If those smaller, sturdier branches hadn't been able to keep the branch up, it would have crashed into the roof but not before bringing down our electrical wire with it. Sigh, time to call the tree topper.

So the tree topper came and looked around and decided there were a few trees that needed trimming and one that needed to come down. All things I knew but chose to ignore. I love my trees. They are big and leafy and offer the greatest shade ever. Things are cooler under the trees the way air conditioning could never match. The trees are guardians and protectors of the homestead. When we were looking for a place, we saw oodles and oodles of farms with acres of land and not a tree in sight. I didn't realize what was missing until we saw this place: Trees, Large, established, flourishing, glorious trees.

This house was built around 1885 so I'm figure some of these trees must be closing in on being a century old. The house needed major repair and there was a lot less land then we would have liked, but it had the most magnificent trees. So when one breaks or falls, the sound of the pistol shot crack of wood breaking away reverberates in my heart. As I have said, I love my trees and hate to see one succumb to age and wind.

The tree topper was willing to do the work and to chop and block the wood. The price was actually about the same as what we would have paid for the wood if we were buying it for the furnace. He said he'd come Tuesday. Islanders are a dear lot, they do the work well and go the extra mile cheerfully. What they aren't are timely, they'll say "Tuesday" but fail to mention what week or month (or year) the Tuesday is in. So Tuesday came and went, so did the next and next and next. We weren't surprised. After a month or so,we figured we'd give him a little reminder and he was here within the week.

So my trees are topped, trimmed or taken down completely. In other words, butchered. I do take comfort in knowing what remains is stronger. And I don't have to worry about one falling on the house for a while. I love my trees, but I love my house too.

And that wind which proved to be too much for my tree? Well, it brought clouds and rain and generally a miserable day. And then it left a gift for my eyes and my heart right above of two of my beloved trees.

Early Edibles

I had my teenage daughter, T, and her best bud rake out the herb garden, or at least the remains of it, last weekend. The herb garden is turning into a perennial patch of comfrey and various mints, if it's invasive, it stays to do its own battle with the weeds. Among the various mints was a patch of chives, a good 6 - 8 inches long. Whoot. I love chives, they're a great substitute for onions. I ran out of my own onions a couple of weeks back and had to buy them. Which was pretty depressing because store-bought onions are really inferior in both taste and looks to mine (she says matter-of-factly, with no snobbishness or pride). But now the the chives have sprung up, I can use them pretty much wherever I'd use onions. The picture many not look like much, but the chives were great in the pasta salad I made that night.

Chives aren't the only thing springing up around here. Clover, dandelions and plantain are also making an appearance, much to the rabbits delight. They love their fresh greens. As the season continues, they will eat more and more fresh and less pellets. I think its better for them and they certainly enjoy it more. I think they can smell the greens when I bring the laden bowl down to them. I'll fill up the pellet dish first, the rabbits may give it a disinterested sniff or two but the rabbits will look at me expectantly, ears erect, eyes bright, and sitting with their front paws in the air... they know what's coming! Then I'll dump the greens and the rabbits dive into that sea of fragrant, fresh goodness. It may not look like much in the picture but the rabbits think it's divine.

The compost is also giving up its bounty as well. As I turn it, the worms wiggle and squirm. Now that's a treat only the chickens could love, and they do. They sure make short work of them. I'm positive the worms don't even know what hit 'em. (No picture because not only doesn't it look like much, it positively looks gross.)

So the bounty begins and the gifts are well appreciated by everybody on the DaM Farm. And expectations of more fresh produce bloom (cue Carly Simon's "Anticipation" now).

Not Exactly Like I Planned...

Spring is here and everything is bursting with new life except for a little acre or so in scenic PEI nestled in a little sheltered corner of the island. I've been have a heck of a time getting my new generation of livestock going here on the farm. Talk about a run of disappointments.

The rabbits were the beginning of the run. I have a young doe I've been trying to breed for forever. She just won't have anything to do with it. Just my luck to get a purist rabbit. The real disappointing thing is I kept her back from the last litter my dear Earl Grey sired before he passed away. She grew well and had a good body shape and nice personality but so did the other doelings from that litter. The reason why I chose her was because she looked very similar to Earl. Earl was a great rabbit and I wanted to keep his looks around. But she is not co-operating at all. I've tried everything I know of to get her 'in the mood' but nada, zip, zilch, nothing. Of the other four does I bred at the same time, only one had a viable litter. My oldest doe had one large dead kit, the other two did nothing. It was after a fairly long break for them and I know sometimes rabbits take a while to get back into breeding mode but I never had that problem before. So the rabbitry should be 'hoping' with new life but it is not. It's got some but no where close to where it should be.

The chickens are fairing worse than the rabbits! First there was that whole false broody thing where I lost the whole nest of eggs. Then I had an incubator fiasco where it shot up to 110F for some unknown reason but I strongly suspect the water I put in the tray with was may-be too warm. Whatever the reason, I didn't get one chick, not one out of 42 eggs. During the three week incubation period, I hoped against hope that something survived. Two more times the temperature shot up but when I tried another thermometer, the temp. was a perfect 99.5F So I'm thinking it wasn't the incubator but a faulty thermometer. In which case the eggs didn't hatch cause I cooled them down for too long. Losing a whole hatch of my own eggs is bad enough but I bought two dozen eggs, Delaware and Americauna, to complement my own. Losing those just added to the whole disappointment. So I should be having peeps all over the place and I have none, nada, zip, zilch.

That's how it goes sometimes. It's really nothing disastrous, more like a series of setbacks one after the other. The DaM Farm holds so many surprises and unexpected joys that I think I'm just not used to having a bunch of disappointments anymore. I can't decided if that's a good thing or not. Anyhow, onwards and upwards, pip-pip, whoot-whoot and all that rot. Disappointments never killed anybody, probably builds character...or dementia.

So Where's Winnie the Pooh?

I know living a rural life has its surprises but this getting ridiculous. This morning as I was walking through the dining room, I casually looked out the glass doors and stopped dead in my tracks. There's a dog, a boxer, in my yard. Unfortunately, loose dogs in my yard are a common enough occurance here and that is not what has me gazing outside with my mouth open. Following closely behind the dog is a pig. A little pink pig. Well, there goes the neighbourhood. As soon as I go outside, the dog takes off, the pig decides to hang around for a while.

This little pig is checking out the chicken coop. He tried for a while to get into the chicken area and has decided may-be he can get into the coop. My teenage daughter, absolutely charmed by this little piglet, promptly christened him Herbert and declared she wanted him. Fat chance, kid. You have two dogs, one cat, rabbits and chickens, all of which you ignore ninety-five per cent of the time. Forget the pig.

OK, well he's finished investigating the chicken coop so he's decided to mosey over and investigate me. I back up a wee bit. He's a charming little guy but I have a thing about personal space when it comes to pigs, even little piglet ones who should be romping around the 100 acre woods with a stuffed bear.

So now Piglet is heading home. Good-bye little pig, don't come back because you are awfully cute and sweet and may-be the idea of keeping you would be too hard to resist.

Hidden Sunshine

I woke up to rather grey and miserable day. You can't tell in this picture but it's raining. If I look closely enough, I can spot the occasion snow flake swirling around in between the raindrops. I'm making a point of not looking real close. The DaM is full of fury and promise as the spring run-off makes an appearance. The wind is not so much blowing as it is snarling around the porch posts and through the tree branches.

Ah well, these days happen, so upwards and onwards. The unwelcome rain will help dislodge the even more unwelcome snow patches stubbornly squatting in the low lying areas. There'll be lots of sunny days to be outside I tell my itchy feet and longing heart (geez, that sounds like something Billy Ray Cyrus would sing about =0). Besides, there's a whole bunch of things I can do indoors that will complement the run-of-the-mill chores...I just have to find them.


The first order of the day, then, will be to start a fire. There's nothing like a good, brisk fire to take the chill and damp out of the day. So I hunt around looking for a few juniper logs to start the furnace. I love the smell of burning juniper.

As the house gets warm and cosy I make a few phone calls. My dear neighbour is in the hospital and I want to hear how she's doing. Nobody's answering; well, he's probably over at the hospital visiting with her. Another call is more productive and I get the low-down on all the doings in and out of our area. This isn't gossip, you understand, it's just news the papers don't see fit to print :P. It's nice connecting with people when the day is dreary, it adds a brightness.

I discover the very first shoots of my celery seeds spearing through the earth. They look so delicate! Barely discernible to the naked eye, they are on the thinnest of stems and the two leaves look like pin-pricks. I don't mind looking real close to spy pale green shoots. I also discover a couple of watermelon shoots. They're big and bold and basically shouting to the world, "We're HERE, we're HERE!!! Let the bells ring out and cheering start 'cause WE'RE HERE!!!" Deafening joy without a sound.

So the day goes. The the kids tromp in and supper needs to be made. It's a perfect day for comfort food so I whip up a rabbit stir fry with fluffy mashed potatoes and dipping sauce. So for a grey day, it was awfully sunshiny around here.

First Wash on the Line This Year

Ah, I'm probably pushing it a bit, but I'll see if the clothes will actually dry. It's been so sunny and warm(ish) for days now. I'm starting my seeds and my head is chocked full of plans for the garden. The rabbits are in breeding mode and I'm actually getting ready to start collecting eggs for hatching. These are all things I do that heralds Spring's long awaited appearance. Of course their are other not so exciting chores that are Spring related as well...namely major, not-so-run-of-the-mill cleaning. Not a whole lot of fun but windows and curtains need to be washed. The wood furnace has its charms but the walls need a wash down because of it in the Spring. So when I can put a little joy in the cleaning, I do and it's always nice to have the first wash on the line. It might sound like a boring life if the first wash causes so much excitement but there's nothing boring in Spring's arrival and I can't think of anything that trumpets the coming of Spring more than bright, freshly washed clothes bobbing on the line. It puts a 'spring' in my step and a smile on my face.

A New Slant on Icicles

It's been rather psychotic weather for the last week or so, sometimes gentle and warm, other times raging and hateful - picture Norman Bates with an icicle. Not that it's all that unexpected this time of year but it does make for some interesting phenomenon from Nature. The temperature remains mild, usually hovering around 2 - 4 C so I'm not complaining. I don't care how weird the weather is as long as my glasses don't freeze to my face the minute I go outside.

The weird weather has given the chicken coop a charming necklace of sparkle and defiance, slanted icicles. All day long the ice and snow melt in above freezing temperatures as the wind blows heartily. At night the air cools off to just below freezing but the wind doesn't abate. The water falling from the coop freezes in mid-drip. And in the morning I find all the icicles leaning quite noticeably to the west. It is amazing what Nature shows up with when water, air and fire all work in tandem.

The Signs are all There....

It might just be my imagination (or deluded state, take your pick), but it sure seems like early (early, early, or even very early, early) Spring has stopped by. Actually, I noticed it at least a week or more ago but just kind of pushed the thought away. Early Spring in mid February!?! Not very likely. A little mid-winter thaw, may-be, but not anything with the word Spring in it.

But I'll tell you, it sure looks like just the bare beginnings of Spring out there. The country roads are the first sign. The snow starts receding from the very edge of the pavement where they have played with travellers all winter; creeping over the road towards the middle then being pushed back by monstrous plows. Now they retreat from the hard pavement exposing soft, mushy red dirt shoulders. And as they pull back, their once pristine white smatters with grey and black slush. The roads are finally giving back as good as they got. Then there's the bare patches of earth all over the place. Like on the path to the chicken coop, or under the bird feeder and near the vegetable garden. The snow gives ground to the ground.
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Not only does it look like early Spring, it sounds like it, too. The birds are calling more and more. Their whistles and chirps gleefully sounding out in the morning when the sun spreads gold and pink over the snow, but now it continues all day long. The water of the DaM becomes louder as it breaks free of the ice. And I dare to dream that soon comes the day the nicest sound is the one I don't hear...no more snowmobiles razing the land at all hours of the day and night.
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I'm not the only one thinking Spring is early this year. Little footy prints abound on the DaM farm now, telling me that the sleep-the-winter away critters are stirring as well. The chickens are increasing the number of eggs laid almost on daily.
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I realize we could have a Winter blast and in a few short hours it will look like the dead of winter again. But I won't be deceived, I know Spring is coming, I have felt her kiss.

A Time of Waiting

The days are pretty much filled with the usual chores and general mucking about. Yet as I go about my day, I realize I am in 'waiting' mode. It's like having an old fashioned alarm clock, you know, the round ones with two bells on top with a striker in between them, following me around. I'm mentally waiting for it to sound off.

As I do my chicken chores, talking to the birds and making sure everybody is healthy and happy, I look for signs of a hen or two going broody. I'm waiting for the day to start putting eggs under hens for hatching. It's almost time.

As I work with my rabbits, feeding the last of the dried herbs and weeds to them, I look for signs of does building nests. I'm waiting for the kindlings to start. It's almost time.

Going about the house, taming dust bunnies and fighting a losing war against two shedding dogs, I keep peeking into my reserve of saved seeds. I gather my collected seed starter items and check out sunny window sills. I'm waiting to start my seedlings. It's almost time.

They say the waiting is the hardest part. Well, in this case I would have to disagree. The waiting brings a sense of excitement ~ It's almost here!!!!~ . The waiting hurries poky old February along, prod, prod, push, push. The February mantra of "Winter is never going to end" is unheeded. It's not even heard this year, the little old fashioned clock has silenced it with its subtle ticking. So while it's all still in the planning stage, preparation for Spring will be starting soon. The first hen on a clutch of eggs, the first bunnies in a furred nest, the first seedlings pushing through the earth. Then that little, old fashioned clock will go off. And I will hear its sound in the call of the returning Canadian Geese and the splash of the water over the DaM, freed from an icy grip. I'm waiting, it's almost time.

Soup

I've always made soup from scratch. When I had lots of leftovers and lots of time. I'm making it more and more lately. I call it my Everything-but-the-Kitchen-Sink-Soup. What I lack is a recipe so I just use my imagination. If I don't have noodles, I'll use pasta, if I don't have pasta, I'll use rice, no rice then I'll use barley. Vegetables and herbs are first and foremost whatever is getting tired in the fridge then I'll go to frozen from our own garden.

E.B.T.K.S. is a big hit around here. It always was pretty popular but I've noticed a lot more requests for it. I think one of the reasons is the broth, especially when I use rabbit as the base. Rabbit stock or broth is the best I've ever had. It is mild but so flavourful! It tends to be less greasy and and more nutritious. The greatest thing about it is that it is so easy to make.

But soup is just soup, no biggie. I have to admit though, there is a satisfaction to putting together a soup and know everything but the noodles (and a couple of spices) has been grown on The DaM Farm. It's probably psychosomatic, but it seems to make a world of difference in taste. Who knew that satisfaction was a flavour?

Winter Moments

I woke up late today and as I went scurrying about, I caught something I generally miss because by the time the sun rises, I'm usually downstairs tending to the rabbits. A winter sunrise in the country is breathtaking. It's motionlessly vibrant. It's like all the bells and whistles but without the sound.

Winter does have its moments. One of my favorite things is going to the chicken coop around 8 at night for the last time. On a clear night, the multitude of stars array themselves in patterns and swirls. Dark isn't the same in winter, the snow catches reflections and when there's a full moon, I don't even need my trusty flashlight.

I really should take the time to watch these incredible moments and appreciate them. The colour of quiet is unimaginably brilliant and deep.

Indoor Winter Planting

Going through the seed catalogues inspired me to get going on my windowsill planting. That and the fact the rabbits are almost out of the food I dried for them. I still have some dandelion, mint and cornstalks left but they will probably be gone in a week or two. Happily oats and barley spout really fast so they at least will be ready by the time the dried stuff runs out. I'm going to try a couple of new things this time. Along with the oats, barley and sunflower shoots, I'll try corn shoots and may-be beets and carrot tops. My original goal was to have fast growing vegetation that will re-grow at least three times after being cut down. While that is still the most important, I'm thinking a few slower things will add variety and that's always a good thing. I'll see how it goes.

A Bread Lifestyle?

A friend popped by for a visit the other day. As she entered the big kitchen, she sniffed appreciatively and asked what I was baking. I said bread. That's when things got interesting.
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"Oh, that makes sense, goes with your lifestyle." She said, kind of offhandedly if not downright dismissively. Made me want to look down to make sure I had shoes on and no bun in MY oven. It also kind of confused me, any real bread maker or homesteader would cringe at the way I 'make' bread. I'd be scorned, I'm sure.

Way back when bread machines were new, we bought one. At the time, we were living in a very congested, urban suburb of Vancouver. Not quite the homesteading/farm/back-to-the-land Lifestyle but any stretch of the imagination. But my mom (Eileen) made bread when I was a kid and I loved the smell and taste of homemade bread.The yearning a comforting memory carries was not the only motivation, of course. The taste of warm fresh bread certainly had something to do with it. But mostly we were thinking that making our own would be more nutritious and cheaper. It turned out the bread machine was great. Dump in the ingredients, hit start and that was that. House smelled great and the bread tasted greater. We saved money, knew exactly what was in our bread, and man, did it make the house smell wonderbar!

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After 11 years or so the bread machine gave up the ghost. It had a lot of issues by that time, some age-related and some not. I think me banging on the pan sides with a knife to loosen a stubborn loaf probably had something to do with it. At any rate we decided to get a new one 'free' with airmiles (yeah, I know just another sales gimmick but there's so many of them, it's hard to resist them all).

It turns out bread machines had changed a lot in a decade. Special flour, special yeast, special this, special that, all designed to work with bread machines specifically. And all costing way more than the regular stuff. I've got to admit, one of my pet peeves is this whole 'specialized item market' that has emerged. I figured I always used the regular stuff and my bread was fine. So that's what I did. And the results were awful. Ew. They were very nice oversized hockey pucks though, but I didn't have much of a use for them. The price of the 'bread machine' stuff was so high that it really deterred me from buying it. Besides, I could go to the bakery and pay about the same as making it and the whole point of making bread in the first place was to save money.

So the spanking new bread machine reposed on my kitchen counter, all shiny and metallic. It's LED display and little tiny computer innards wasting away. It was probably gloating, "Ha, Ha, you got me 'free' but I'm too expensive to use, Ha, Ha, Ha, SUCKER!" Then I had a brain storm. I'd mix up the dough and let the machine do the kneading. I can't really knead well on account of my shoulder. I fell off a ladder in the chicken coop last winter and my shoulder has never forgiven me. So now I mix up the dough using a free standing mixer, throw it in the bread machine to knead, let it rise and toss it in the oven. Any 'real' bread maker would be appalled. I'm sure I have ancestors who made bread ~properly~ now spinning in their graves.

So the way I make bread has nothing to do with the homestead or farm or back-to-the-land or whatever the lifestyle term is for what I'm doing. I simply had a perfectly good machine squatting in my kitchen and it was driving me nuts. Hhmm, may-be that is a lifestyle, one that has nothing to do with where one lives.