The Great Worm Escape or What Happens When you don't pay Attention

Life doesn't always run smoothly and sometimes the results are tragic or annoying or really, really funny. Some you learn a lot from, others you re-learn something you had no business forgetting in the first place. This is one of the really funny ones with a dash of new knowledge tossed in to make the whole mis-adventure somewhat worthwhile.

I've always kept my worm bin in the cold room which also passes as the wood room come winter. It's a big room, we stack about 8 - 9 full wood cords in there every fall, and being over the uninsulated attached garage, it's cool in the summer and cold in the winter. Perfect place for the worms plus the bin is not in the house proper so that's a perk for the squeamish (not I of course; but there is a couple of people in the household who can't say "worms" without adding a "EEWWW").

Our wood order came and sat in our driveway. We have found that's the best way to get the wood in ASAP. We tend to do the chores first when they impede our convenience and comfort, not to mention being a constant reminder every time you open the door. Tripping over a log pretty much puts the thought "Oh geez, gotta get that wood in" right smack center front of the brain along with a bruise on your leg.

Putting the wood in is pretty efficient because we have a hole cut out in the garage floor and we simple toss the wood directly down into the wood room. Then we go down and stack. I say 'we', but easily 80% of the work is done by Don and the kids. I stay away mostly. 'We' can't very well throw the wood down if the worm bin is there because 'we' don't want logs bouncing off the bin. So 'we' moved the bin just outside the wood room where the washer is. I noticed that when the bin was moved, the tray and the four little cinder blocks that raises the bin over the tray did not get put back in place. I didn't really give it much thought, I figured it was only temporary and it wouldn't effect the worms. And it didn't, the worms did fine and the wood was being brought in over the next few days.

Then I noticed the worm bin had been put back into the wood room. It was still not raised over its tray but sitting directly on about 2 - 3 inches of bark that covered the floor. I kept intending to get the bin back on the tray but it was just not a priority since the worms seemed to be fine when I fed them. Though I must admit, in hindsight, I didn't see as many as usual when I checked the bin.

Last weekend, fate had it that Don and I were both in the wood room at the same time and it was the perfect time to address the worm bin. I had decided to move it out of the wood room because the wood room was getting a wee bit too chilly and I was worried the worms would freeze. So after setting up the tray and blocks in the new location, Don and I lifted up the bin. We were going to drag it because that's the way it had been moved but I thought lifting was a better idea just to make it easier on the worms. Sometimes my little voice is right on the money. We noticed right away a few worms wiggling in the bark. I picked them up and moved the bark around just in case the was a couple more...

"OH MY GOD!!!" Don exclaimed in shock and horror, "There's a whole HERD of them!" It didn't seem like a good time to point out that the proper word is 'squirm', I was a little taken back myself. Not to mention being very busy fervently thanking the powers that be we did decide to lift the bin and not drag it. I really wouldn't want to see the results of that - worm mush has no appealing ring to it at all. Turns out worms really like bark - something I didn't know. Since the worm bin was not suspended on blocks when a worm stuck its wee head out a ventilation hole in the bottom it didn't encounter wide open space. If it did, it would simply withdraw right back into the bin but since there was all the lovely, comfortable wood bark, the worms decided to pull up stakes and move to a better neighbourhood - the floor of our wood room.

The next half hour was spent with Don holding a spotlight while I picked up worms.
He: There's one.
Me: I see it.
He: Bunch over there.
Me: OK.
He: There's another freaking herd.
Me: Thanks, and they are called a squirm, horses are herds, worms are squirms.
HE: I don't care, let's just get 'em off the floor.

Must of picked up easily 500 worms. The good thing is, they didn't venture out past the area of the worm bin, must of been too cold once they were out from under the bin in the wide open space..."Wood Room Space, the final frontier, these are the voyages of the USS Worm Squirm..." You gotta be a Trekkie to appreciate that quote. Ah, adventures on the homestead. "What did you do all morning?" Answer in a long cowboy drawl. "We-elll, we's rounded up a maverick bunch of worms that broke loose from the squirm."

The adventure did have some benefits. The worms were healthy, very lively and squirmy, and a good color. They were obviously thriving in the bark and the one thing we have an abundance of is bark. I figure it'll make great bedding for them. Which is wonderful since their usual bedding, fallen leaves, is under a foot of snow. And, if there was any doubt left at all, you know you have found your one true love when spending half the morning picking up worms is full of giggles, puns and co-operation. Quality time shows up in the oddest and most unexpected places, just like worms.

2008 Garden Reflections, Final Chapter

Basil and Tomatoes are said to do well together. Tomatoes are supposed to be more flavorful. I haven't noticed it myself but I think my tomatoes are pretty perfect to begin with. It's hard to notice any improvement of perfection :). THe tomatoes did really well in the annex, both the ones I planted and the ones that sprung up on their own. The yield might have been better if the tomatoes weren't so crowded and they might have ripened faster on the vine. I was hesitant to transplant any but next year I will if any should spring up. The basil was the best I've every had. This is the first year I started them from seed. Some of the plants were close to two feet tall and very bushy. In past years, the basil struggled to get enough sunlight in rows with the tomatoes. This year they were planted more in a 'square' mode other than rows. May-be that helped. I will try that again next year.
Two (green) thumbs up for basil and tomatoes.

The Three Sisters also did well. Lots of sweet peas and a fair yield on the corn. They were planted in the back of the garden in three rows. I planted radishes along with the sweet peas to discourage the corn boer. I rarely find any and this year I did see less. The thing is the radishes grew very fast and did get in the way of the sweet peas. I ended up taking them out early to mid July. I think next I will plant them a little later.
Two (green) thumbs up for the Three Sisters.

Total failures:
Garlic. They were something new I tried. I planted them at the bottom edge of the garden, between the lawn and the pumpkins. The long grass and the vines totally covered them and I found nary a garlic. Would like to try it again but should plant some where else.

Parsnips. Another new experiment. I planted them near the bottom of the garden, in front of the the Three Sisters. The tops grew well but the roots were long, thin and useless. If I try them again, I will really have to thin them out as the season progresses.

So that's about it for what I grew in the main veggie gardens. I think it was a good year. I do believe that after four years of putting compost and manure on is finally giving the plants a good healthy start. This year it was all my own compost and manure; may-be it was just a coincidence that the garden kind of 'popped' but I think that the bunny balls aka rabbit manure did help quite a bit. I'm looking forward to adding my own worm castings next spring!

A Peek Around the Doorjamb

Monday was a day where the future kind of grinned at me. Mostly, when I talk about what we're doing here at the DaM farm, it's a work in progress. Though we are doing things every day, we are still focused on the future. Hopefully, the chickens will pay for their own feed. Someday the gardens will supply all our veggies. May-be in a couple of years we'll grow a little grain. Yesterday, I got a glimpse of how it might all turn out. I think it's going to be ok. That's a picture of my bathroom door and it basically represents what life is going to be like. The sign says, " Baby Bunnies keeping warm, please keep door closed". Livestock in the house seems to be status quo around here; the door to the future has opened a crack.

It started with the usual chores and mundane run-of-the-mill routine. After the kids went school, or as I say under my breath, after I sent them packing, I started moving my last two does and each one of their babies out to the other colony.

Ceilidh is a pure Californian, white with black ears, nose, tail and feet, so naturally her daughter is the grey rabbit. Lavender is the black rabbit with the silver ticking, she half Creme D'Argent and half Californian so, of course, her kit looks like a pure Californian.

I got them all moved in and the two youngsters immediately became life-long friends. Ceilidh and Lavender are putting up with each other, it's a classic case of armed neutrality, "Well, I don't like you at all but my kid is best friends with your kid so I'll put up with you, I guess, most of the time... just don't get in my face." Anyhow, they all seem to be enjoying the space and one is exceptionally interested in the chickens.


While I'm going back and forth transferring the rabbits, I vaguely acknowledge that in the other colony Solstice is mucking around in a nest box. This isn't a surprise because she is due in a couple of days so I pay it little attention. Then I notice something black and wiggling under her bum. She decided to have her kits in front of the nest box and hasn't pulled a lick of fur. So I pull out my trusty dryer lint, the kind I save just for these occasions, line the nest box with that and put in the kits. Solstice has meandered off and is contentedly munching on pellets. By the time I have the kits all fixed up, she decides it's time to drop another one, just to make sure she keeps me on my toes. This whole situation which would have caused great flurry and excitement two years ago is now just something that happens on a homestead. Small variants from the norm seem to be status quo around here, the door to the future cracked open a little bit more.

The day progresses and I collect nine eggs from ten hens, a very good yield. That night our supper, with the exception of the rice, is totally from our own homestead. That's a nice feeling, knowing exactly where your food is coming from. Evening comes and I go out for the last round of chores. It's a clear and crisp night, the air virtually tingles with the excitement of winter's approach. In the sky, Venus and Mars herald the waxing moon across the plush darkness of night. It is an extraordinary sight and one that won't be seen again so clearly for decades. A perfect end to a day on the homestead. I shouldn't be surprised; subtle surprises seem to be status quo around here, the door to the future practically swung open. And I finally took a peek around the doorjamb.

2008 Garden Reflections Part Two

Companion planting is something I've been fooling around with for the last couple of years. The idea behind it is great. You group plants together to discourage pests and disease and/or encourage growth and bounty. I find it very appealing especially since I don't use any chemical pesticides, herbicides or growth boosters. And, of course, it has that key word that is all the buzz these days 'sustainability'. I'm still learning and I'm not anywhere close to being successful all of the time.

If nothing else, companion planting makes for an interesting looking garden. When the plants first start coming up, all different and random it really looks like some great giant came and sneezed seeds instead of snot all over my garden. The year before this one, I dotted the garden with sunflowers and nastriums to help with pest control. I don't know if it made any difference discouraging bugs but I think I'll do that again next year. After getting past the giant sneeze stage,it looked really nice.

Carrots and Green/Yellow Beans
The only problem I ever had with carrots was with slugs one year when I planted them where herb garden is now using the "square foot method". The slugs had a field day and I had no carrots. Haven't tried the square foot method since.I just plant them in the main garden and the slugs don't plow through them. So planting carrots and beans together was an experiment in increased harvest. I planted the combo near the front of the garden, towards the end. Things generally do pretty well there. I used bush bean seeds and three types of carrot seed. Baby carrot, Chantenay and a longer carrot type I can't remember the name of (naturally, because that's the one that worked the best). The scheme worked really well. It might have increased the bean production but there was a definite advantage for the carrots. I got a good bean yield and once harvested and the plants pulled up, the carrots had a lot more growing room. I think the carrots don't need to be thinned at all because of the extra room they get. The carrot yield was the best and the carrots were a great size and shape. So I will definitely keep with this companion planting duo. I don't think I'll use the Chantenay again even though it is a heirloom plant because they're squat, very thick and not all the easy to freeze compared to the longer, thinner carrot that I can't remember the name of.
Two (green) thumbs up for bush beans and baby and longer carrots.

Lettuce and Onions
In short, this did not work well. I planted two different types of onion; yellow, which I have had great success with in the past and red onions, something new for me. I usually buy the mild mesclun mix lettuce. This year I tried some other mixes and "gourmet" blends I planted them next to the beans and carrots with the Swiss chard (which did amazing) on the high end of the garden in the front. The onions were dismal, both types, few and far between and really, really small. I'm already through them all, last year they lasted well into February if not March. The lettuce did OK but certainly not the bonus crops I've had previously. I planted them in a different place, may-be that had something to do with it. May-be the onion seeds weren't good. May-be the moon phase wasn't right. May-be I'm grasping at straws. I think next year, I'll really pay attention to the onion seed I buy. The year before, I bought a bag of 100 and got at least 200, this year the 100 was barely 80, both types. Now thinking about it, I did plant some nastriums near the onions last year and that crop was great. Something to remember for next year. And I'll go back to the mesclun lettuce mix. Now, if I could only remember the name of that carrot I liked so much...
So two (gritty) clumps of dirt for this experiment.

Baby Keet

So this is the little keet I am brooding downstairs. Except now he’s upstairs quite a bit as his feathers grow in and he doesn’t need to be under the brooder light constantly. Keeping with the ‘Out of Africa’ theme, his name is Mandela. If he’s a girl, I can change it to Mandelas or Mandy. Or may-be I just keep with Mandela, I’m sure the keet doesn’t care.

Guineas are real cute for a few weeks then they start hinting at ugly and it just progresses from there. Mandela is just leaving his good looks behind. His new feathers coming in are straggling and wet looking. As they grow in, the cute grows out. I took a lot of pictures hoping to get a couple that were flattering. These pics are the best I could do. He’s not buzzard looking yet, but with those big eyes and that narrow little head, he looks like he should be flying around in a spaceship; he’s got that space alien look.

Physical appearance notwithstanding, Mandela is sure a sweetie pie. I started bringing him up stairs because I figured it wasn’t good for him to be alone all the time. In a normal situation, he’d have siblings and a mama to socialize with. All he has is four rubber blue walls; I’m not thinking that’s all that stimulating for him…unless, of course, he’s crazy then rubber walls are in order. At first, he’d sit in my lap, talking to me in his two-note whistle. After a while, he liked sitting on my shoulder as I watched TV. I was very impressed with his interest in M*A*S*H, it is a great show but I’d think the humour would be lost on a bird. Then I realized he was looking out the window. Which made sense, so now I’m the birdbrain for giving him too much credit. After a while, I put out a towel so he could walk around for a bit. Now he pretty much thinks he has the run of the house.

When I leave the room, he scurries after me, his two note whistle sounding just a little frantic, it translates easily to “Hey, YOU! Hey, YOU!” or may-be “Wait UP! Wait UP! Or even “HEY YOU, WAIT UP!” He enjoys the dogs and the cat doesn’t intimidate him at all. I’m thinking he’s in for quite a culture shock when I put him out in the coop. It might be a good idea to have him in a cage for the first little while out there. I’m hoping he’ll feel a little more secure and the others won’t have a chance to pick on him because he might come off as a bit of a oddball what with not much practice in social bird skills. And then when everyone is used to each other, I’ll start opening the door. That won’t be happening for a few more weeks yet. So for now, I’ll just enjoy the ugly little bird with the sweet disposition.

2008 Garden Reflections, Part One

Every year, when I plant my garden, I make a pledge to note what did well and what didn't and try to figure out why. A written record would be so helpful in planning the next gardening scheme. I have yet to actually write down my observations so I could review them before planting again. Invariably, Spring arrives and I have a vague memory of what worked and what new thing I wanted to try. The memories are all fuzzy and worn at the edges. My brain, once a steel trap, now resembles a worn blanket; it definitely has holes. So I figure I might as well put my blog to good use. It'll be a record of sorts. November is a little late for writing down what did well last July or August but it sure beats trying to remember the next April.

The Squash Family
The pumpkins did really well. I planted two varieties, sugar pie and Jack O'Lanterns. I really like the sugar pie, they are small, only 3 - 5 pounds and they bake and freeze well. They're delicious in muffins and bread. I planted them at the end of the garden, beside the corn and snow peas. Things on that end of the garden generally do really well. I harvested well over 40 pumpkins and was absolutely thrilled. This is the first year I got more than 20, and some years I would only get nine or ten. I also discovered I don't need 40 pumpkins; it's way too much, be careful what you wish for and all that jazz. I have enough pumpkin to bake muffins and bread twice a week for the next year. And I don't bake anything twice a week. Next year, I'm thinking I'll plant them in the annex and give something else a chance in that area of the garden. In the annex, it will be easier to manage the vines, they won't get a chance to over-take their neighbours.

The Zucchinis did well. I had enough to freeze and eat fresh. They were planted with the pumpkins. I still have some of the larger ones down in the cold room, they do keep well. They were the dark green bush variety. I'm not sure if I will plant them with the pumpkins again. The pumpkins will run them over and it's hard enough to find zucs without pumpkin vines snaking over the plants. Zucchini disguised as pumpkins makes them hard to harvest.

This is the second year I grew buttercup squash. I won't bother with them again. They take up a lot of room and don't yield all that well for me. On top of that, the only one who will eat them is me. Mind you, I have managed to sneak a bit into a stew or a stir fry but I'm always doing that with veggies that aren't appreciated here so I really don't need another of how-on-earth-am-I-going-to-get-them-to-eat-this vegetable.

So all-in-all, two (green) thumbs up for the squash. May-be not plant so many pumpkin and keep with the sugar pie.

The Rabbits' New Digs

I have finally started moving the rabbits into their new colony setting. I started with these two does, Sunfire and Solstice. Solstice is in front, Sunfire, doing her impression of rug, is in the back. I have had Sunfire since I started rabbits. She has just a great temperament and loves to talk to me in little contented grunts. I figure she'll have one more litter then she'll just live in the colony enjoying her well earned retirement. Solstice is her daughter. She's just like her mom in temperament and raising litters.

Both rabbits are having a great time in their new setting. They can hop up on the shelf and stretch waaaay up any time they want.They certainly do enjoy socializing with each other. They clean each others faces and share treats willingly and cuddle up together for naps. It's funny because when I mentioned to a few experienced rabbit breeders that I was hoping to raise my rabbits in a colony, I was told that they would fight and probably kill each other because they were so territorial. I found with gentle and slow introductions, there has been no problems so far. Perhaps it's because they have so much more room it's easier to share the space.

I've been raising meat rabbits now for a couple of years and I have to say, I'm enjoying it much more than I expected to. My rabbits are so mellow and laid back. There's nothing like doing mundane rabbit chores to the background noises of contented munching and hay being rustled into place for that perfect bunny daybed. Their contentment just surrounds me. It is amazing how their peacefulness permeates the very space they are in and somehow I absorb it and make it my own. Working with the rabbits is one of my favorite chores.

Originally my rabbits were in big roomy cages and had a little play area where they got out to run around. But I really liked the idea of colony raising rabbits. It sounded like it would be the best situation for having happy rabbits. After a great deal of research, I decided on an indoor colony instead of an outdoor colony. Outdoor colonies, while more "natural", came with a lot more problems from what I could tell. Rabbits were much more at risk from not only predators but from diseases. So I opted for the indoor colony setting where they'd be safer and it would be a lot easier to monitor everyone's health.

When we built the chicken coop, we partitioned off two areas, 5 ft X 8 ft. The walls separating the rabbits from the chickens are about 2 feet high and the rest of the wall is chicken wire. That way, ventilation is not impeded and the rabbits are not exposed to chicken droppings. I'm hoping to add shelves and runs to give them even more square footage. Each area will have two does, may-be three, and one buck.

Of course, there has been unexpected bonuses like the perk of low solid walls, they have made for some unexpected amusement on my part. It's kind of funny to walk into the coop and find a group of chickens gathered by the wall looking into the rabbit colony. With their necks stretched out to the fullest and cocking their heads at weirdest angles, they look like demented bobble-heads. The chickens are obviously fascinated by the rabbits and something as mundane as Solstice washing her ears is cause for great chicken interest and amazement. On the other hand, when a hen lays an egg and start clucking, the rabbits run to the wall, stretch way up and peer into the coop looking to see what all the fuss is about. I'm glad they can see each other, if nothing else it keeps everyone from being bored.

Memories of a Winter Storm

We got our first winter blast this week. Cold, windy, snowy and a pain to drive in. (Gotta get those winter tires on). Anyhow, it reminded me of our first winter storm here. We had been in PEI less than a month and still living in town while when the snowstorm hit. It has gone down in local history as "White Juan", referring to the Hurricane that had hit in the summer before we moved here.Here's the account I wrote to my parents (Colin & Eileen).

A couple of days before the storm hit, we had been told about it on the news. My whole attitude was, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Rather blasé, I admit; but having heard these reports before in BC about windstorms and nothing come of them, I’m prone to be skeptical. In spite of my non-believing stance, Wednesday night we did go out and do a grocery shopping and the laundry, just “in case”. P and T, barely 11, were pretty excited about the prospect of a big snowstorm. I told them not to get their hopes up.

At midnight, I went out for a walk with Dusk (one of the advantages of owning a BIG dog most people mistake for a pit bull, you can pretty much go where you want, when you want). The night was clear and mild. So many stars in the most interesting patterns decorated the sky. The waning moon was the barest of smiles. “Hah!” I thought, “Blizzard my left foot.” (edited for language).

By the next morning, I sort of change my mind. The wind is high and the snow's coming down sideways. “Well, it’s not that bad, I’ve seen worse.” Think I, proving once again that no matter how delusional my thoughts may be, I really stick to my guns. At 9:00, I take Dusk out for a walk. He is overjoyed. He pretty much figures this was all done for him and has a grand time. He loves to stick his face in the snow and then toss his head back, making the snow fly. When he lifts his head up, his face is completely white with two large black eye holes and two small black nose holes. He looks like the world’s stupidest KKK member (well, except for the nose holes I guess, but you have to admit, there is no such thing as a smart klucker). It's very windy and I notice when Dusk jumps into the air, he tends to stay up there longer than he should. I this point, I decide to head back in, knowing there’s a big difference between walking the dog and flying the dog. Besides, it was getting hard to see with all that blowing snow.

Inside, the kids all warm and toasty of course, are totally impressed by the magnificence of this storm. They look out the window, “oohing” and “aahhing”. “Oh, look, there goes our compost and garbage cans. They’re empty now.” “Look, there’s a mountain forming in our backyard, WOW!” Kids…so full of wonder and too young to shovel snow.

By 10:00, the only thing I can see is the tree in the front yard, it’s about 15 feet from the door. The wind is making the inside walls creak. At noon, I step outside and ask Dusk if he’d like to come. Dusk goes to the door and throws me a look that says, “Yeah right, you stupid human, keep dreaming, you’re good at that.” I try to encourage him and discover that dogs can go quite fast in reverse. I had never seen a dog run backwards before. The wind outside sounds like a subway station when a train is approaching. I was out for less than five minutes and I was caked in snow and pretty much frozen solid. Taking off my coat inside, I discover the wind blew a couple of buckets of snow up my shirt, well that accounts my frozen state. The kids have lost their amazement with the storm. They’re rather upset with me because they have home school while everyone else in the province doesn’t have to go to school.

Noon, I finally decide the weatherman is right and we have ourselves a bonafide winter blizzard on our hands. I start watching the weather station and find out Nova Scotia has declared a state of emergency – the wimps. From what I see, it’s a lot worse in PEI than NS; they look positively Hawaiian compared to us. The wind has us convinced there is someone walking upstairs in the house. Don goes to the washroom and notices the water in the toilet bowl has ripples. Remember that scene in the first Jurassic Park movie when the T-Rex approaches and the water in the drinking glass ripples? That’s just about what’s happening in my toilet. I can no longer see the tree in my front yard. But I did see a little of my neighbour’s garage siding flit by like a deranged bird with no navigational skills. P looks out the window, figuring pretty soon he will see polar bears…

3:00, the subway train has moved inside, it sounds like it’s upstairs. The cable and Internet are gone. I am so thankful we have power. 3:10 the power goes off. Oh well. I decide to take a nap – it’ll be better when I wake up. Note: Please refer to the above remark about my delusional tendencies.

By 5:00, the candles are lit and the sleeping bags pulled out. No one is wearing less than four layers of clothing. We discuss the options for supper, peanut butter sandwiches or peanut butter with BANANA sandwiches. Or may-be we’ll shoot ourselves a polar bear and have raw bear meat. T brightly suggests we go to a restaurant (well, at least she gets her delusional quirks honestly). We hear on the battery radio that the Confederation Bridge is closed and a state of emergency has been declared for PEI. “Well,” I think, “it’s about time!” (Notice the complete absence of bravado and smirkyness, making way for a smidgeon of commonsense). Now the subway train is going around in circles upstairs with increasing speed, I’m pretty sure it’ll be heading downstairs in no time at all. The kids are NOT sleeping upstairs and the dog WON’T go outside to pee. Yup, pretty much a state of emergency as far as I’m concerned. Can’t see outside, period. The windows are caked with snow.

At 8:00, we start getting ready for bed. We’ve been listening to the news and since we already know how horrible it is, it’s not really “news” to us. They say don’t expect power until late morning or early afternoon when the storm passes – well, DUH. Before going to bed, I decide to take Dusk outside. I haul him outside (and I do mean haul) and immediately get slammed against the railing by the wind. The dog panics and takes off. I start yelling for him. The end of the 15-foot leash tightens and suddenly goes limp. My heart stops. What if he broke the leash? How am I going to find him? Clinging to the railing, casting my flashlight over the night white, I yell his name. I decide to let go of the railing and search for my stup…uh…beloved pet then there he is! My beautiful brindle dog is completely white all over, snow inside his ears, up his nose and possibly … well, you get the picture. I start screaming, “Dusk, go PEE, go PEE, Dusk! He looks at me stupidly, “You’re kidding, right? It’ll probably freeze before it hits the ground.” I re- iterate, “Go PEE!! For the love of GOD, GO PEE YOU DUMB MUTT!” Finally, he takes the stance and proceeds to have the longest whiz ever recorded in dog history. This one is going to make the Guinness World Book of Records. My frantic cries of “Go PEE!” change to “OK, done? OK, you’re done, let’s go. Come on, let’s go, you can’t possibly still be peeing! OK, done?” Finally he’s done and I try to get up the stairs. No dice, I can’t get footing and the wind is blowing the wrong way. I get the dog in front of me and he pulls me in. Dusk is totally ticked at me, won’t talk to me, won’t look at me and has decided NEVER to go pee again. P and T snuggle down with me in bed. Don won’t sleep with two small, wiggling, kicking children and decides to sleep in the living room with the dog. Some guys get all the breaks. Just as we are all settled in, the power comes back on! I don’t know how, but the power company managed to hire a bunch of angels. We pretty much figure it will go out again but it doesn’t. As we sleep, the wind rattles and blows, not only talking the talk but walking the walk. Snow taps evil Morse code against the windows.

Next morning, we can see outside, kind of wish we couldn’t. Surprisingly, the stairs and front walk are free of snow; the road right in front of us is bare black top. Unfortunately, the bare road is book ended by two walls of snow. Yes, I know they are called drifts but when they’re over 8 feet, they’re walls. The front yard is covered in garbage and compost. Countless white plastic bags decorate the trees in the backyard. SIGH. The drift in the back yard reaches over the edge of our neighbour’s roof. The wind is still high and the blizzard warning is still in effect.

We all go outside. The kids think it is wonderful. The dog thinks it’s wonderful. He even goes pee in the fresh snow. The drifts are so hard packed that P and T scale them without sinking. Whee!! Down drifts they go, happy and carefree. Kids, old enough to slide on their butts and still too young to shovel snow. Don and I, snow shovels in hand, are anything but “carefree”. The drive way looks insurmountable.

But it’s over and we have about 24 hours before the storm from Ontario hits us. That should be enough time to teach the kids how to shovel and the dog how to use the toilet!

Originally written by Marnie, Feb.20, 2004

The Almost Season

I see Fall as two seasons. The first is Autumn, glorious, colour drenched Autumn. Crisp mornings bring gauzy mists that surround bare trees, seemingly tucking them in for Winter. Their bare grey branches soften against mist's blur. Then in the afternoon, achingly brilliant red, yellow and orange leaves perk up the dull brown of the ground. The air takes on that clear, clean smell that clears the mind and rosys the cheeks. That's the Autumn I have always known and it's just magnificent here on the island.

Come mid-November, the season that is never mentioned on calenders arrives. I call it the Almost Season. I only discovered this season since I moved here. As with the other season markers, Spring's robin or Summer's mosquitoes, the almost season is definitely here when almost every sentence I say contains the word 'almost'. I'm almost done the gardens, they're all clear, I just have to put the compost on. I'm almost done the pumpkins, they're all picked, I just have to bake a few more. I'm almost done the wood gathering; well, no - that's a big fat lie, as you can see by the top picture. Dead branches pile up year long and for every box I or the kids fill, three box loads of branches fall. Wood gather will never be done completely but I don't have a Never Completed Season so it becomes part of the Almost Season. It gives me some hope, anyway that may be some day it will at least stop growing.

The Fall Almost Season is a delight in itself without the color and fanfare. It's delightful because because it just doesn't matter if those last few things don't get done. I can always put the compost on next spring. The last pumpkins can go to the chickens who will enjoy them still warm from the oven on a winter's morning. It'll warm them from the cockles of their hearts to the combs on their little heads. The wood gathering, ah it's always there no matter what season. The pile is so enjoyed by birds, chipmunks and squirrels it would be a shame to get rid of it completely. So it's almost acceptable as is. And that's what this season is all about, what can be done and what can wait and why it all works out in the end ... or in the Spring, whichever the case may be.

Guinea Fowls

In addition to the little guinea in the brooder downstairs. I now have three more. I was told they were very interesting and great bug eaters and would be such an asset in the garden. What I wasn't told was Guineas are walking contradictions. If you look at their heads, they strongly resemble buzzards, very ugly right down to their ugly ruffled necks. If you just look at their bodies, they're quite pretty with light dots sprinkled liberally through the base colors. You can see some of the white dots on the middle bird. The light bird's colour is lavender, the two others are blues, which while not all that accurate, does sound better than light ugly and dark ugly.

Guineas have the prettiest voices, all soft whistles. They talk to each other constantly, sounding like the worlds smallest woodwinds. That is, of course, until they "sound the alarm" as Guinea aficionados quaintly call it. That's what they do if the see a predator or something they just don't like, like long grass blowing the wrong way. The first time I heard them sound off, I thought something big and heavy must have fallen on them. What a racket, imagine a duck with a sore throat and turn up the volume to ear-bleed level.

While they can fly and fly high, like 25 feet up into the trees high, they prefer to stay on the ground. They will only fly if threatened. On the ground, guineas are very fast, in fact when they scoot, you can't even see their feet. I think they curl the feet up and make little roller skates out of them.

Since they are originally from Africa, I have decided to call them after my favorite African American actor. Their names are James, Earl and Jones. James is the light one, Earl and Jones are pretty much interchangeable right now. If they turn out to be girls, I'll call them Jamie, Pearl and Janes. I have no idea if they are male or female. Apparently you can tell by listening to them; males have a one-note call, females have a two-note call. I can't tell the difference it's all Greek to me.

After a week long transitional phase, they seemed to have settled in quite nicely. That first week was quite the experience but that's another story.

And We have Eggs!

We got our very first egg last Saturday. I was out shopping when Don called me. I don't know what it's like to win a million dollars but I wouldn't be surprised if it doesn't feel the same as getting your first farm fresh egg. When I got home, I marvelled over the egg. I thought about all that was involved in getting this brown oval of goodness; building the coop, getting the chickens and equipment and so forth and so on. I mused, "So that's what an egg worth over a grand looks like. Now all the other eggs will be free." My thinking defies all logic; but it keeps life interesting. There's a reason why "wry" and "sardonic" are my trademarks.

If you think I made a big production about eggs, you should see the chickens. Quite honestly I had no idea egg laying was such a co-operative and thoughtful activity. I witnessed the whole production while working on one of the rabbit areas.

First a rooster and a hen or two will go into the coop. There's all kinds of chirps, squawks and low cooing going on. I don't understand any of it but it's obvious there's quite the discussion going on about where to lay the egg, how to lay the egg, when to lay the egg. At some point, I just want to yell, "SO LAY THE EGG ALREADY." The birds check out corners, nest boxes, etc. The rooster is in on every aspect of the inspection and he is not shy about voicing his opinion. Finally everybody leaves except for the egg layer who will settle down in the decided location which is, without fail, anywhere but in a nest box. She'll ruffle a couple of times, may-be peck a bit then settles and sits quietly. There is absolutely no doubt when she lays the egg because she clucks her head off - LOUDLY. A couple of hens will come in and tell her she's done a wonderful job and after the chicken equivalent of hand shaking and cigar giving is finished every one goes out to find some bugs to eat.

When they all go out, clucking comfortably to each other, I go to collect the egg. As I pick up that perfect brown egg, I realize I have totally underestimated chickens. While I never thought they were dumb or mindless ~much~ I didn't realize what a co-operative and supportive bunch they are. Community is important to them and everybody is interested in everybody else's doings. Chickens are much more than they are portrayed. Deepening awareness comes in many forms, I'm having mine sunny-side up with a side of bacon.

Not the Usual Autumn Day

Autumn days are steadfast and purposeful. The last of the outside work is getting finished. Put the gardens to bed, move some maple saplings, winterize the chicken coop, preserve the last lingering pumpkins. A feeling of satisfaction follows me as I catch up to the straggling chores. Autumn is not fueled by the hyper rush of Spring and Summer. Autumn does not know their frantic pace. Nor does Autumn have their joy but it brings a feeling of accomplishment and steadiness that Spring and Summer have no use for. There's a comfort Autumn owns exclusively. I feel it every time I walk into the house and smell the juniper burning in my wood stove. The fire warms with gold and orange flames. Autumns' glow is most welcome inside the house. Most Autumn days are like that, then I have a day like yesterday...

It actually started the evening before when I went to pick up a Guinea fowl. Just a wee little thing that somehow hatched under a chicken. The only egg to hatch, the keet had little to no chance of survival especially since the hen wasn't interested in staying on the nest. I was asked to take the keet so I did. I got the little guy home, set him up in a plastic bin brooder with the heat lamp. He is no bigger than my thumb, but by his mouth, you'd never know it. Peep peep peep peep.

The next morning I woke up with an odd feeling. It was quiet...too quiet, no gentle hum of the fridge or any of those household noises that you don't notice until they fall silent. Then it hit me, I shot straight up in bed (not the smartest move when your bed is under a slanted attic roof). We had gotten a notice the week before that the electric company was cutting power between 1 - 7 AM and of course, I forgot all about it. My poor keet! I ran downstairs and the poor little thing was barely moving. I cupped him in my hands and held him close until the power came back - only two hours late. By then he was pretty perky. I, on the other hand was not.

That was the beginning of a very long day. The adventures continued in the afternoon. The chickens managed to dig out under the fence and happily meandered all over our place and the neighbours. Chickens don't herd well, and they won't negotiate. It took the kids and I quite a while to get them back into the pen. You know when you're on a long drive and somebody in car keeps asking "Are we there yet?" Well, by 3 o'clock, my little voice started with "Can I go to bed yet?".

Finally, night came and I was thankfully heading off to bed. Dusk wanted out one last time so I let him out in the pen and went to turn of the computer. The unmistakable odor of skunk wafted through the house. I went outside hoping it wasn't what I thought, but it was, Dusk got skunked. My night was extended by another 2 hours. Dusk hates baths and trying to convince a dog that weights more than I do to get into the tub is hopeless. I swear, that dog must have been a hippie in a past life; he's got the lay-down-in-a-heap-and-just-try-to-move-me protest move down pat. I finally got him in by wedging him between the tub and toilet and kept crowding him until he had to get into the tub or the potty. It was close, but he chose the tub. By that point, I didn't care where he chose to go, as long as he got wet. I washed him in a pretty effective solution of hydrogen peroxide, dish detergent and baking soda. It did cut the smell to a bearable level.

So the day that started at 6 AM ended at 1 AM the following day. Not a typical Autumn day, but one that will linger in my memory for a long time.

Canning tomatoes

I first started canning tomatoes back in the 80's. I was living in a suburb and a Farmer's Market had just opened. I noticed that at many stalls there would be huge boxes of over-ripe tomatoes growers were selling for next to nothing. That's when I decided to learn about canning tomatoes. I was thrilled with the results. The best part was I controlled exactly what went into the tomatoes, or more accurately, what didn't. No salt, no sugar, no extra water or flavorings. And I thought they tasted better, but that was probably just because I made them. Then I moved to the city, got a "real job" and canning tomatoes fell to the wayside.

Now, having a garden of my own, canning tomatoes is possible again. Rooting out all my canning supplies, I was surprised how well the canner and bottles had survived the years and countless moves. The biggest challenge was actually finding the equipment in a sea of rather dusty and worn boxes. Believe it or not, there were boxes that had never been opened in two or three moves.

Canning tomatoes is easy. This year I grew mostly Roma tomatoes, they are also known as Italian or plum tomatoes. They are the easiest to proccess because they peel so fast and in one clean step. Dip them in boiling water for about 30 seconds, drop 'em in cold water, fish 'em out, cut off the top, squeeze the bottom and voila, the tomato slips out with a plop and no mess. Their size and shape are perfect for canning, very little cutting or chopping is required.

So here they are all skinned and ready for the jars. Recommendations for canning have changed in the last 20 years. Now they say to cover the jars an inch over the top with water in the canner, when I first did them, the water just went up to the bottle necks. As well, lemon juice is added to the bottles before putting the tomatoes in. Apparently, tomatoes have less acidity in them then they used to (unlike some people I know who tend to get more acidic as they grow older). Back in the day, I always cold packed them. I did try hot packing them but it seemed like more work and time for no difference in the end anyways.

The biggest challenge are getting the tomatoes ripe. Our growing season is so short here, that by the time the first frost threatens, most of the tomatoes are just thinking of turning red. So I put them in boxes, layed between sheets of newspaper. I'm supposed to wrap each and every tomato in newspaper but what a pain when trying to find the ripe ones! A lot of unwrapping and wrapping goes on and by the time I get through the two hundred or so tomatoes, chances are a few more have ripened! The layers work pretty well. I do add a couple of apples to the boxes because it's supposed to help with the ripening. Anyhow, it doesn't take too long for them to ripe. What is really nice is that they don't all ripen at the same rate so I do a batch every now and then instead of having way too many to do all at once.

The best thing is that the canned tomatoes last from season to season. By the time I use the last jar of my tomatoes, new jars are all ready to take their place.

Calendulas

When I first started with Aromatherapy, I kept reading about the amazing healing and soothing powers of Calendula for skin. Unfortunately, there is no Calendula essential oil, just too hard to produce, I would think. A tiny little 20 gram tube of Calendula cream can set you back twenty or so dollars and wouldn't last all that long anyhow. So I learned to live without...until I got a garden. The plants themselves are very hardy and self-seeding. I can usually see them popping up around April, which is awfully early around here for anything to even start thinking of growing.

I found out Calendula flowers can easily be infused in oil. The oil absorbs the Calendula's healing properties and I can use it in remedies, lotions and creams. Most of my lotions and creams have about 20 - 50 per cent Calendula oil in them. I think it's great stuff.

Calendula flowers are easy to dry, just pick the whole flower and put 'em on newspaper until the petals practically fall off. They say the darker the petal, the more medicinal it is so I like the double, dark orange blooms. The only way I use them fresh is when my daughter needs some for her skin care. I steep some calendula petals in with some green tea and she uses it as a toner, it does seem to really help the problems of teenage skin. Sometimes for an extra boost, I'll add a couple of drops of lavender essential oil.

I find infusing them is a piece of cake. Once the petals are completely dried, I put them in a jar and top it off with organic cold pressed olive oil. Fresh petals can be used instead of dried but then I'm mucking around with trying to syphon off the water from the fresh petals and if I don't get it all, there can be a mold issue, which I'd rather not deal with. Once the petals are in the oil, I put the jar in on a sunny window sill and or on top of a heat vent and shake once a day. And voila, two weeks later, I have a lovely golden oil that pretty much will keep until the next harvest. All I do is strain it, squeezing every drop of that lovely oil out of the petals and keep it in the fridge.

disclaimer: This is how I use calendula for Aromatherapy, I am not recommending you do the same.

First Worm Castings

My little Dendrodrilus Ribidus are doing very well. The bin seems happy and full of life. I am seeing a lot of worm cocoons and little tiny worms so I'm guessing all is well now. I did have a bit of an issue a little while ago when I change the bedding. I used brown leaves that I soaked in water then drained for their bedding. I obviously didn't check the leaves well enough and I discovered a couple of centipedes in the bin a few days later. Centipedes are a no-no; they eat baby worms and generally cause havoc and mayhem. I've got enough havoc and mayhem in my regular life, I don't need it in my worm bin. Anyhow, everything seems to be back to rights now.

I did discover those little yellow and orange eggs I mentioned in my last worm entry were indeed worm cocoons. I took a few of of the eggs and put them in a small container with damp leaves. In a few days, the container was teeming with brand new worms! Ah, science at a basic level - "Let's try it and see what happens".

When I did change the bedding, I ended up with worm castings. Worm castings is beautiful, black, earthy smelling stuff. It is absolutely gorgeous to look at, considering worm castings is basically worm poop. I bagged the castings but left the top open for a couple of days. Sure enough, I had missed a few cocoons and found a bunch of baby worms. So they are now in the bin and I have some great stuff to plant in next spring. I think I will use it right around the seeds and plants.

Changing the bin's bedding and collecting the castings is a major operation. First I have to get Don and P, teenage son, to haul the heavy bin outside. Then on a plastic sheet that is in full sun, I remove all the contents, trying to make a mini-mountain shape. The worms don't like the sun and burrow deep down. So then I start removing the castings until I hit the worms again, I'll wait a few minutes while they wiggle furiously further down to escape from the light. I remove some more of the castings and repeat the process, and repeat and repeat and repeat until all I have left is a rather large and extremely annoyed squirm of worms. I put them in the nice, fresh bin and get the boys to haul the bin back down into the nice cool wood room. I was surprised at how long it took, almost two hours, which is why I see it as a major operation. But it was worth it, the castings are very impressive.

I did try something new that didn't seem to work at first. Usually I give them pretty 'aged', shall we say, bunny manure for food. Well, that's almost composted completely so last time I fed them, I used fresher stuff that I soaked in water for a while. I found it really heated up the bin and the worms didn't like that. They stayed away from manure. I just checked it this morning and while I found it was still giving off heat, I found the worms happily devouring it. I'm figuring the warming may not be a bad thing for the winter, that wood room gets awfully cold and a little heat might be welcomed. As long as I don't put too much in at one time. A bit of experimentation will be needed, I think. Simple science is calling again...

Sunflowers

My sunflowers did well this season, they usually do. As long as they are in full sun, they really don't care about anything else. They seem to manage in any kind of soil and rainfall, or lack of. The scarecrow in the picture is about five feet tall, so I'm figuring the sunflowers are ranging from six to over eight feet. The ones towering above all the others are called Russian Giants. Their size is pretty impressive but the really great thing about them is they tend to bloom late in the season and can withstand a touch of frost. When the garden is tired and is thinking of giving up the ghost, wilted and frost-bitten around the edges, these sunflowers flame into bloom, giving one last spark of firey life and joy. The last things in my garden are the sunflowers and pumpkins, yellow above and orange squatting below amoung the dried leaves and red earth.

I planted the sunflowers in a stand, at the end of the three rows of corn. I had run out of corn seeds when doing the three sisters planting and decided to use use the sunflower seeds to finish off the rows and have something the snow peas could grow on. I won't do that again. The snow peas really struggled there. I think the sunflowers just provided too much shade for them. May-be the sunflowers grew too fast and yanked my poor snow peas right out of the earth. Last year I dotted the garden with sunflowers here and there in groups of three. That looked really nice and seemed to help balance out the garden. Next year, I think I will go back to that and try growing Black Oil sunflowers since they are the ones my rabbits like the best. I did discover that having the sunflowers between the corn and pumpkins had its advantages. The sunflowers acted as guardsmen and prevented the pumpkin vines from creeping up the corn stalks and overpowering them. I had always thought of my garden as a tranquil place of harmony and cooperativeness. Now I know that there is a hidden war going on and the only truce is balance and knowledge. I think all world leaders should have to tend a garden, it would do a world of good, or if you will, it would do the world good.

Harvesting the seeds are fairly simple, I just cut of the whole flower head once its head cannot raise up and greet the sun anymore. I pop the flowers into paper bags and they dry out quite nicely. When dried I just remove the seeds, store them in mason jars and wait for spring.

Mourning Doves

I found a pair of Mourning Doves under the wild canary feeder today! They are such delightful birds. Soft grey-y brown color and very shy. I had heard them, it's not hard to notice their soft cooing sound, but had never seen them in my yard before. Some people mistake their sound for owls. But there is a difference, the dove's call is much softer and musical than the owl's sharp hoot.

I like doves, they seem so calm, unlike the wild canaries who flutter and scramble around the feeder. From all the twitching birds clinging to it,you'd think the feeder was electrified. The doves, unperturbed, quietly walk under the feeder and mosey around the butterfly garden. They talk gently to each other and explore by pecking. I am hoping to get a picture of them but right now, they do not trust me at all and fly away as soon as I make an appearance.

I would have never thought that doves would come because I put up a wild canary feeder. I hope they hang around and tell all their dove friends about us. I love these little surprises.

Is That a Zucchini in Your Pocket or are You Just Happy to see Me?

Zucchinis are funny, I can look at them growing and think they are still a little too small, I go back a couple of days later and they are the size of baseball bats. Not only that, but because the leaves are so big and the stalks are so thick, I can easily miss the zucchini altogether until I trip over the darn thing. Just in case you're wondering, I put the 1 kg jar of peanut butter in the picture for scale.

The first year I was here, I saw some zucchini plants so I bought them, not knowing a thing about them. I had actually eaten it once in my life, at a restaurant. I really only bought them for something to stick in the garden. I figured they'd be like cucumber plants, just a little bit bigger, HA! I was amazed at how big they got! Their broad, dark green leaves were easily two feet across and I constantly mistook the stalks for zucchinis because they were so thick. Some of the plants were waist high. On top of that, I also discovered that six plants could feed a family of ten, I had 12 plants for a family of four, even I can do the math here. The next year, all my zuc plants died before even producing one little old zucchini. Talk about going from feast to famine. Since then, I've had a little success with them but nothing matching that first harvest ... until this year. I have 4 plants all producing nicely. I do try to harvest them before they get too big, but as you can see, I'm failing miserably.

So what does one do with zucchini anyhow? That first year's bounty forced me to become incredibly inventive with recipes. I have discovered how amazingly versatile this humble little veggie is.


One of the favorite ways we enjoy them is in a recipe I adapted and now call Zucchini Pie. It's very tasty, it has a base of cheese, eggs, cream and sour cream; there's tomato, garlic, onions, fresh basil, bread crumbs, Parmesan, and a bunch of other tasty things in it. It's great hot from the oven and cold on lunches. So, of course since it's so wonderful, it takes forever to make. The zucchini needs to sit in salt then rinse & dried, then brushed with oil and broiled. There's chopping, mincing and grating galore, not to mention making the yeast crust. Try as I might, I cannot make a zucchini pie in under four hours. So when I do make it, I double or triple the recipe, thus cutting down the time per pie considerably, takes me five hours to make 3, instead of 4 hours to make one. They freeze beautifully and I haven't taken one to a potluck where it wasn't a hit. It's also great to have them handy in the freezer for a quick meal or a side dish.


I found a recipe for zucchini bread. Again I adapted it a bit to our tastes. You can't even taste the zucchini in this. It's a tasty loaf with lemon and Cinnamon. It converts to muffin size with no problem. It's easy to toss a muffin at the kids when they insist they don't have time for breakfast, and since they are eating a muffin anyhow, they might as well have some juice. And hey, how 'bout cereal or an egg with that muffin? The muffins also go into lunch bags frequently. They freeze well, too. The bread is great with tea or coffee (and just a leeetle whipped cream). Easily warmed in the oven from frozen state, they're a life-saver when friends pop in for a cuppa.

Shredded zucchini freezes beautifully, no blanching, no mucking around. So far, no matter how big they get, I don't need to seed them or remove the membrane. I grate it in the food processor, divvy it up into freezer bags in two cup portions and I'm done. When I want to make a zucchini bread, it's ready. It' also great in olive oil with onions, garlic and a little bit of fresh ginger, takes all of 2 - 3 minutes to fry up. I throw it into chili or spaghetti sauce or use it in a stir-fry. I can puree it and use it in baking, substituting some of the liquid in the recipe. It adds nutritional value without adding the calories. It's mellow flavor works with any other flavoring and doesn't overtake the recipe.

And finally, they keep really well in my cold room. At least they do when they are the size of Louisville sluggers. By the time we ran out of zucchini that first year, it was January and I had only lost one or two to spoilage. So when I'm up to my eyeballs in teens, car pooling, harvesting, chickens, rabbits and their counterparts - dust bunnies, and whatever else gets thrown my way, I just pop them in the cold room. Sliced thick and dipped in batter, they fry up golden as the sun and still taste of the summer morn they were picked.

Late Summer On the DaM Farm

Early last week, I went out for one last look around before going to bed and something about the night made me think that late summer is here. I don't know what exactly it was, the dew was heavy and the air was past stillness. The signs have been here for a while; days a little shorter and the nights have lost their heat and humidity. Of course the harvest is coming in fast and furious, even my tomatoes are sporting the barest blush of red on their green skin. But it's always at night when I realize that it's late summer.

I always think of summer as a small boy. A little guy, may-be four - six years old. Summer here is like that wee fellow who has spent the day at the beach throwing sand in the air, chasing seagulls and splashing in the waves. By the end of the day, he sits on his oversized beachball, his toasted hand supporting his flushed face By his stillness and the deepness of his thought I know he's thinking of leaving. He's tired and spent, the warmth he has exuded all day is waning and a chill touches down as the sun sets on the waves.

So small boy Summer is having a last look around where he has had so much pleasure and brought life, laughter and joy. But he won't rush, he'll hang around for a little, waiting until he sees his red-headed sister making her way towards him. Late Summer and I both now wait for Autumn.

The American Goldfinch or Hello Again!

Sometimes you don't know you're missing something until you see it again.

Before we moved out to BC, we lived in a house that had a large, southern living room window. I planted cosmos in front of it. That summer I delighted in sitting in the living room watching these tiny little yellow and black birds eat the cosmo seeds. I had no idea what they were, I just called them wild canaries.

I never saw this little yellow bird when I lived out west, probably because I was in a highly developed area and the only wildlife seemed to be teenagers.

I was just delighted one morning after moving into our old farmhouse to see one flit by. I planted cosmos in hopes it would attract them but it didn't work. I contented myself with the occassional sudden flash of yellow on a summer's day. Well, at least I knew they were here.

At the feed store this spring, I noticed these long mesh bags declaring that they were American Goldfinch feeders and for fun I bought one, filled it with seed and hung it off a crabapple tree by my butterfly garden. For a couple of weeks, it didn't attract anything. Occassionally the wind would push it back and forth, making it sway. Great - I now have a swing for the wind's amusement. Then one morning, there was a little yellow and black bird clinging to the side of the feed bag having breakfast! Soon word got out in the bird community and more little yellow and black birds showed up. Now I can watch five or six of them scramble for position on the bag while a few wait in the branches of the crabapple tree. It is an absolutely delightful way to spend 15 minutes while having my morning coffee.

They's A-Crowing!

My childhood memories of chickens were of dirty, smelly things. Their white feathers always had guck on them, they were forever running around in dirty water and drinking it. But the thing I remember most is that they were nasty; nasty to each other and nasty to humans, too. They ran away from them and squawked at them, and any chance they got, they'd peck at them. Of course, the chickens I saw were in zoos or petting farms and those situations weren't all that pleasant to begin with. Now seeing them in a environment more suited for them, I realize they are quite the little characters, full of fun and manageable mischief. The chickens spend their days out in the run, eating bugs and green apples that fall from the trees. They so enjoy dust baths and preening their feathers, staying clean and healthy. They come running to greet me, wings flapping, eyes bright and hop around my feet waiting for their treat.

I'm surprised at how easy to keep they are. I'm using the deep litter method in the coop. That means the wood chips are deep, at least 6 inches, and all you do is rake it up every couple of days or so, and add more when needed. This way the litter is only changed once or twice a year. It's working out great, very little smell and things seem to be clean - well, considering it is a chicken coop.

I built little stands for the two waterers and that was a great idea, the wood chips and other uckies stay out of the water so it stays fresh. I also built a feeder, just a long wooden box with and open edge at the bottom, it's got a built in stand to keep it up out of the chips as well. The box is big enough to pour in a whole 40 kg bag of feed. It's pretty good but the chickens like to stand on top of it so I'm constantly washing the lid. I'm hoping to make a few lids so I can change them and give them a really good disinfecting cleaning every so often. Don built beautiful nest boxes for them and I'm hoping to get them in the coop this week. It's still too early for the hens to be laying but we are all looking forward to our own farm fresh eggs!

In the morning, I can hear the roosters crowing. It's a soothing sound, not shrill or grating at all. It's low and mellow; and I can hear such joy and confidence resounding in their greeting of the sun. It's a new day and they're going to enjoy it to the fullest. Humans could take a lesson from that, must be darn near impossible to have a bad day if you welcome it with that kind of gusto and confidence.



This is Tobias, one of my Buff Orpington roos. He's a very dominant fellow and keeps everybody in line.


This is a Partridge Chantecler roo, he doesn't have a name yet, though under my breath, I call him Wimpy. He's very mellow and even the hens can boss him around. In fact, I'd say they delight in it. But he goes his own way and seems happy enough milling around with the rest.

Toads or Where are the Characters from "The Wind in the Willows" When You Need Them?

One thing that truly amazes me about growing my own food is how dramatically my interests have changed. Four years ago, bugs certainly weren't an interest now they are because bugs play a vital part in gardening. Same goes for worms, weeds, compost, compost tea, etc., the list goes on and on and on. I am evolving, much like the very plants I try to grow. Like roots sinking deeper in the fertile soil, I soak up information and facts trying to establish a firm hold in the earth of knowledge. Like branches stretching up towards the sun for nutrients and growth, I reach for experience and new understanding. Thank goodness this is all figurative, not literal otherwise I'd probably start looking like a stumpy tree.

Hence my interest in toads (shudder). Turns out toads (shudder) are great things to have in gardens for pest control. Toads eat bugs, lots and lots of bugs. You'll notice I'm not shuddering anymore, anything that eats destructive bugs is OK in my books. Growing up, I have read my share of cute little critter books, so the thought of toads hopping happily throughout my garden, munching bugs on their way through did hold its charm once I got over the shuddering reflex anytime the word 'toad' was mentioned.

I made two toad houses, one at either end of the garden. They are made out of strategically piled rocks in shady parts. I lined small stones on the ground for a floor. I do try to keep the area damp. Problem is the toad houses remain toadless (another thing evolving is my use of the English language). I know the DaM Farm has toads, I have seen them. They like to live under my front porch. The question now is how do I get those toads out to the garden? "Build it and They will Come" is not working here at all. I have played with the idea with catching a couple of them and putting them in the garden. But I don't know, if they wanted to be in the garden, I'd think they'd be there. I don't want to put them in there only to have them die or be hunted down. I was hoping the scarecrow I put up will encourage the toads to come since there are no crows around. I don't know if crows eat toads, I'm just guessing. So far, it hasn't worked. The toads seem to prefer wood shelters, the front porch, for example. I am planning to replace the flat rock roofs with leftover wooden boards from the chicken coop project. May-be that will help. How my interests have changed. I wonder if putting "toads" as an interest on my resume would be a good thing ...probably not, it would just "croak" my chances.

Raspberries

The rhythm in my garden is in motion. As the last strawberries wait to be picked, the first ripe raspberries make an appearance. And by the look of the snow peas flowers, they aren't too far behind. We've been eating leaf lettuce and baby beets for a while now. So the garden flows predicably to an extent. But I don't take it for granted; the raspberry cart or the snow pea bushel can be turned over by a whim of Nature.

The raspberries are good this year, very sweet and on the large size for my bushes. I think this year I'll have enough to freeze. Usually, we just eat 'em the same day they're picked; Nature's version of a drive-through resturant. But this year, it looks like we can have our raspberry and freeze it, too.

The great thing about raspberriy bushes is that they can be used in so many ways. First, naturally, there's the berries. Then after they are done, I add the leaves to my rabbits' food. In the fall, I cut the canes back and feed them to the rabbits who chew them up with gusto.

The raspberries are at the top of my main garden, next to the strawberries. And like strawberries, the raspberries' offshoots are springing up all over the place. I even have some poking merrily up through my lettuce and dill. So I'm thinking this fall, I might move the younger canes to the old wooden log fence that hems one side of the garden. The space by the fence always been overgrown since it is so hard to get in there to do anything. Plus I like the look of raspberries hanging over the fence. It looks so inviting and homey. So when the harvest is done and all I have left to do is look forward to a long winter, it will be nice to transplant the raspberries and know another spring is on her way.

The Butterfly Garden

The Butterfly Garden was started as a joint project between T, then pre-teen daughter, and myself. I thought it would be a fun project for the two of us. We both were interested in seeing what kind of butterflies would show up. It has come with benefits; we’ve had marvelous conversations while weeding. While T has moved on to other interests the garden remains and she still will come out every now and then, pick a few weeds and talk. The topics, like butterflies, are varied and most times, as butterflies would, the topics flutter and float away. Some topics occasionally settle, like a butterfly alighting on a rock to sun itself; and becoming a real discussion of importance.

The Butterfly Garden originally was full of little white stone paths and almost everything in it was an annual. It was very pretty and whimsical. I put an old wagon wheel I found in a long forgotten corner of our property in it and scattered garden stepping stones and ornaments wherever I found a spot for them. But as daughters grow and change, so has the butterfly garden.

It's funny how one's priorities change when practicality moves in. It took me one summer to figure out while stone paths were very pretty; they were a royal pain to weed. The stones themselves kept migrating to the garden or worse, to the lawn where driving over them with the lawn mower turned them into flying missiles. I couldn’t use a trowel to loosen the weeds because of the stones. Only took one stone to the forehead to figure that one out. Now, instead of many trailing stone path, I have one down the center. I still have to weed it but I have found that adding a bag of stones every year is finally discouraging the weeds to the point where I’m hoping they’ll give up. I have applied the same philosophy to T, I don’t sweat the clothes she wears or the make up she applies because the grades are good, she’s not rude and does the chores. Like I said, priorities change.

After two summers, I realized I simply didn't have the time to plan, arrange and sow seeds every spring considering the other gardens I had to work on. So I started planting perennials that I heard attracted butterflies. I’ve got lambs’ ear, lavender, asterbies, lovage, and bee balm. The seeds I do plant of plants that are self-seeding and will come back, calendula and cone flowers. The ornaments and stepping-stones are more strewn now than placed. Any flaw I want to cover, I plop a knick-knack on it. Some of the time saved is now spent with T, and while I don’t want to cover her flaws, an occasional weeding of her attitude works wonders.

The Butterfly Garden has changed over the years, but it is still a gentle place, full of quiet beauty and sweet dreams, as is my daughter. And like my daughter, it has grown, becoming more practical and mature but the original charm, likability, and uniqueness have been kept beautifully.


Every now and then, there is an unexpected joy. Like this cosmo growing amoung the Calendulas. A seed from last year that persevered through the winter and grew strong and beautiful. Or T offering to shingle the top part of the chicken coop, conquering her fear of heights because she knew with my vertigo, it would be difficult for me. And so I carefully tend, nurture and occasionally put on a pile of tried and true compost, also known as advice. The gifts and the accomplishment come with the years.