Ruffled Feathers and Spilled Milk

Farming with ducks and dairy goats, chickens and children.

Renovations.

A rainy day is usually an excellent reason to avoid farm chores.  But since my other choice was to clean the red mold growing in the bathroom, I rushed outside to the barn to find something to do.  Luckily, I didn’t have to look very hard to find a list of things to do in […]

A Farm Day To Remember.

It started out in the usual way.

It happened to me.

I don’t know how it happened. I really don’t. After all, I’ve never owned a creamer pitcher shaped like a cow. Or salt and pepper shakers shaped like geese. I don’t have tissue box covers that look like barns. Or a milk bucket for an umbrella stand. My curtains do not have roosters on them. […]

A Farm Girl.

Some people are born to farm.  Some people are born on a farm.  Every once in a while, the stars line up, the Fates smile down, God snaps His fingers, and a child who is born to farm is born on a farm.  And you get this: Pretty

When Bad Chores Happen To Good Farmers.

Not every day around here involves newborn goat kids or picking the first sweet snap peas off the trellis.  Sometimes we are following a trail of blood drops into the barn to discover a goat with her eyelid split open. Or applying butt salve to the rear end of the guardian dog after he broke […]

I win! (today)

Round bales of hay are very convenient.  And wasteful.  Perhaps they are fine for cows and horses.  But goats tear huge long strips off the roll.  They eat two mouthfuls of the strip and then trample the rest of it around the barn.  So eventually I have to haul away huge loads of nasty hay […]

Farm Furrows

It’s a wobbly walk from the end of the garden to the mailbox.  Underneath what looks like a smooth stretch of grass (OK, what we call grass–the green weedy stuff interspersed with yellow flowers that covers dirt in the summer time) are the old hills and valleys of someone’s farm field.  You can’t see these […]

‘Tis the season

It’s that time of year.  When the chickens’ desire to procreate overrides their desire to provide me with fresh eggs for market.  The entire 4 acres of our farm becomes the battleground for a strategic game of  chicken-hide-and-farmer-seek. Bad chicken.  This is not the nest box.

Seeds

I bet you’re wondering if I ever finished that fence.  Guessing whether I gave up and threw all my tools into the pond with a flurry of curses or if I’m hopelessly trapped in blackberry canes and a roll of barbed wire.  Trying to figure out if I got tired of complaining or just finally […]

Moving Day

I can only guess what other people do on Saturdays. If you live in a suburb, you probably sit by your kitchen window, sipping coffee, and watching what your neighbors are up to.  As in, wonder if Rob-next-door will take out that huge pile of trash in the garage or spend the day washing his […]

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