If you are in the Kincardine area and would like their meat price list, feel free to email me and I will send it to you.
twwly at mac.com

If you would like to see some more of the pictures, click the link and if you are feeling so inspired, you could purchase a copy of their book.  Click the link!

We stopped in at the Fine Fettle after swimming to pick up some Panda Licorice and tea (rooibus).  A woman and her young son (5-7 years I’m guessing) passed us on the sidewalk.  The child broke into a run, as children do.  Safely, on the sidewalk.  The mother panics and shrieks: “Stop!  Stop running!  You might hurt yourself!”

Oh, honey.
Say that out loud to yourself, slower.
Say it again.

On the way home from town, we paused on the road by an Old Order neighbour’s farm.  His 7 year old son was working his field, leading a team of 5 horses.  With no adult in sight, not that he needs one, I’ve watched this kid learn to drive since he was Bob’s age.   I’m proud to know that kid.

What has happened to modern parenting?

If, like me, you would like to shake the woman sucking the joy and life skills out of her child; or perhaps if you are that parent, but would prefer not to be; I highly recommend checking out this book:
Free Range Kids by L. Skenazy.

In a similar vein, I just finished reading:
NurtureShock by P. Bronson and Ashley Merryman and it was also a very worthwhile read.

Things are really picking up speed here.  I’ve been enjoying working with the children using a Brilliant Minds Montessori Math Kit, starting seeds with them, fixing up the pig pen.  They love having jobs.  We’ll be bringing piglets home any day now, I am very excited.  I’ve been doing a spot of work for the local Penetangore Watershed Committee (go check out the display in the library!)  Tomorrow over 1 tonne of food will arrive to my house to be sorted and reconciled for our buying club.  (Thank you in advance, Lisa!)  We’ve got our summer car back on the road, are about to tackle getting a building permit for our new out building, and are in the midst of a spring clean.

Pictures of: Bob & Mags in their new Lucha masks; Bob taking a good spill off the dirt pile (finally riding his bike outside; he rode it all winter long inside our house); 2 pictures from a lovely walk in Inverhuron; happy sheep at Philosopher’s Wool; my beautiful boy.

Ps. You have to fall down to learn how to get back up.  Let’s not rob our children of this lesson.

Come. On. Spring.

We hung out with Cindy Ray for a bit, while she pogoed on and off our backs, ate our shirts, did skateboard tricks and yelled for Mommy.  I tried to take some video of her on my head with my little Flip camera, but it proved impossible.  Suki was off eating grass, ignoring her baby, so I called her name and immediately she (and the rest of the gang) came thundering into the goat yard.

I wish there was a ruler beside these two girls, to give you an idea of scale.  Alva, who is on the left, is now over a year old.  She is about the size of a cocker spaniel.  Cindy Ray is minute!

This is Eunice the sheep, my favourite of the two.  I will be sad to eat her, she is now very friendly (you get mugged for treats going into the pen) and I like her big dark eyes.  I am definitely sold on sheep.  They are so… pleasant and sheepy.  Goats, as I have mentioned many times before, have a tendency to jerkiness.  Which also makes them hilarious… and on occasion, a tremendous (and literal) pain in the ass.

Bob did not want to leave the goat pen this morning.

Totally unrelated, here is a picture of my darling Meeps spraying Scott in the face after a 16K run.  Something as you can see, she thoroughly enjoyed.  We all do actually, and take turns soaking him.

Remember all that beautiful garlic I harvested recently?  I left it out to cure, congratulating myself on such a nice haul this year.  Oh, what a great job you did!  I thought to myself.  Ho, ho!

Well.  I brought it into the kitchen.  Where it proceeded practically overnight to grow a coat of mould.  All over every head.  That’s what I get for being uppity.  So, I’ve been peeling off the mouldy paper and freezing the individual cloves.  Which (believe me) I know is less delicious, but it’s really the only option.  I’ll be using it to cook with anyway.

Speaking of cooking, I must admit to subscribing to Martha Stewart Magazine, and her little accompanying food mag this month had a super simple recipe for gnocchi, which I cannot waiiiiit to try out.  This gives me an excuse to go to the Amish store and buy a potato ricer, and ogle all of the beautiful stainless steel, manual kitchen accessories which make me ever so giddy.  I recently bought a “Whirly Pop” stove top popcorn popper there, because I was tired of making popcorn in a pot and WOW.   Totally consistent and I have yet to burn any, which says a lot as we eat popcorn almost every day, and I am generally half a disaster in the kitchen.  Enthusiasm only gets you so far, I have learned.

I’m hoping the Amish who took 120 cord of wood out of our bush over the winter are going to fulfill the rest of their end of the bargain by stacking it cut by the house, something that was supposed to be done months ago.  Time will tell.  And we have some wood to sell, if anyone is interested, email me.

Turkeys are all spoken for, but I have one half a pig for late fall still available, as well as half a lamb and two goats.  Please email me if you are interested in any of the above.

I got dressed up last week for a wedding.  That was nice.  Makeup, hair, clean clothes.  My husband on my arm. We went to the Harbour Brasserie and they do such a frigging fantastic job, top shelf.  They get the DOUBLE rock on.

I feel so thoroughly disconnected from my body after children, despite the perfect atmosphere for ridiculous dancing, I cannot engage.  It’s just not a body that I know how to move.  It’s my body, yes.  Certainly still looks like the same body!  But everything is different.  Seized in some places, joints threating to let go in others.  I am working out (Jillian Michaels, P90x and of course, the farm) but not moving any manner that is comfortable.  Ha.  Hoping with the Grandfathers both retired I may have some time this fall to take a ball room dance class with Scott or something.  That would be so awesome.

Here’s my painted and laquered going out Fancy Face:

Most of the garden is out now.  Peas, beans, raspberries, strawberries, leafies.  I’m trying to beat the hornworms to the tomatoes.  The kids sit and eat them in between helping with morning chores.  The kids help move waterers and the hose, they gather eggs.  It’s sweaty work, but totally sweet.  (My apologies for the horrible photo, they were so badly back lit but it was too cute not to use).

Here’s the Music Garlic laid out for washing like music itself.  (Garlic from Al Cowan’s Garlic Farm, can’t recommend enough).

Really hoping to go the Montreal Tattoo Convention with my husband this year.  We’d be gone from September 9th to the 14th and I am wondering if anyone reading this wants to farm sit or share farm chore duties with other friends and family.  Again, please email me if you’re interested!

I get asked a bunch what camera I use and do I have any tips.  I use a Canon Rebel, with a 20mm 1.8 lens on it.  I like the lens because it lets so much light in I can grab quick pics of the kids in the house or shade without any issue. The downside is that in bright light, shit just gets blown right out.  I’m no photographer.  I don’t usually take the time to make my horizon line level (see garlic above).  My only tips are: try to avoid using a flash; don’t be afraid to get close to your subject; take a squidrillion pictures so you actually have a chance of getting a good one; get aquainted with Photoshop or something similiar so you can at least rotate, crop and remove red-eye.  Just think about what is in your picture.  How it sits in the frame, what the basic composition is.  Oh yeah, and let me repeat: take advantage of the digital world and take a squirillion pictures so you have a chance of getting a good one.

Suki had been showing signs of labor all weekend.  She’d been pawing, contorting, heavy breathing, groaning, dripping mucous, contracting.  I spent so much time in the goat shed.  Some of it was very tranquil.  It’s quite nice to take a nap with a goat.  Other times, like at night during torrential downpour, being eaten alive by mosquitos dressed in a sopping hoody while staring at the goats ass…. not so idyllic.  My (marvelous and infinitely helpful) WOOFer Katie took shifts.  Auntie Alexis took shifts and even had the pleasure of helping hold Suks while I performed my first cervical exam as the vet was up North for a family gathering.  (We were worried she her amniotic sac had burst and there may be issues with potential kids.)  Through all of this Suk’s was the suckiest she had ever been, literally becoming a lap goat.  Laying across my legs, nuzzling my neck, putting herself under my hands.  She really wanted love.  So we gave it.

This afternoon her udder looked like it was going to burst.  Each teat looked like a jumbo cartoon breast from Playboy.  Her hind end had gone from very puffy to sunken and she began bellowing through her contractions.  Scott eventually heard this and came dashing out to the goat shed just in time to see a little nose emerging from within the fluid filled sac.  With a little manoevering and a few good pushes on her part we were soon helping clean off her beautiful little doeling.

Suki took instantly to mothering; licking furiously and keeping a hawk eye on her precious one. Little Cindy Ray took quickly and easily to nursing.  It was such a wonderful experience to get to share alongside my wonderful husband.  He caught Bob when he was born and played a huge role in supporting me during my labour with Meeps.  It was so fantastic to be able to help support our wonderful little goat through her labour, together.  Definitely softens the sadness of knowing we will not be having anymore kids ourselves.

And now I will shut up and show off some pictures.

On the topic of daughters, here is a recent picture of four generations of lovely ladies.

It is my precious little daughter’s birthday tomorrow.  But the Great Grandparents started their journey back to Hawaii today, so we shared presents for her yesterday.  We had a Blessingway planned, but given the unrelenting rain, the 7 or 8 desserts that failed miserably and the fact that I smelled like a goat… we decided to postpone.

There are plenty of people who think we are nuts over one component of our parenting ethos or another and one of those things involves toys.  We eschew plastic toys, specifically those containing BPA and pthalates.  We do this for two reasons: (1) I’d rather not expose my kids to said chemicals and (2) them toys is ugly.  I’ve gotten my share of “but you’re depriving them of play!”  Most certainly, I am not.  Mags presents included such wonders as a wooden coffee maker; a stash of handsewn finger puppets; a wool stuffed fairy and a fantastic set of felted peas in a pod, which I didn’t manage to take a picture of in daylight today, but I assure you are achingly adorable.  BEHOLD!

Maggie wore the dress I sewed for her from Anna Maria Horner fabrics (so wonderful) and Bob wore the Amish pattern based shorts I sewed for him over the winter.  He performed what he called Amish Dances all over the living room that day. They involved a lot of twisting and writhing, much akin to Suki’s recent behaviour.

And now it’s time for me to sleep, not in the manger, but in my own bed.

Good night all.  Thanks for checking in.

Scott asks him “so, how far apart are her contractions?” and he replies “30 seconds apart, I think”.  To which Scott replied something to the effect of “HOLY CRAP WE HAVE TO GO!”  And then there was great tizzy, Scott saying “she’ll be having the baby RIGHT NOW, go back on your horse!” Our friend saying “OH, if she’s having a problem she could just walk next door” and Scott countering with “SHE’S NOT WALKING ANYWHERE, MATE!”  and then finally our friend unfolds the piece of paper on which his wife has written the spacing and duration of her contractions and it’s more like 5 minutes apart, each lasting for 30 seconds.

Much better!

And without disclosing too much (more) private information here, may I just say that Scott reported back (when I pressed him for EVERY SINGLE DETAIL, since I am stuck at home with the kids and so jealous I couldn’t drive) that the only way he could tell she was having a contraction was that her breathing changed… a LITTLE.  I cannot possibly express how much I adore her phenomenal politeness of being.

Scott got them to the hospital, parked the truck and then ran in all…. WHAT NEXT! WOO!  And then of course realized… it was time for him to go home.  Awww.  Ride over.  They were of course apologetic and thankful and Scott made it perfectly clear that since his days of birth are over, he is pleased to be experiencing the birth rush through them.

I cannot wait to have a new little baby to hold and love!  I am so excited for my friends.  I am wishing and hoping the rest of this goes smoothly, as of my typing this baby was still stubbornly in utero.  I am off locate an infant car seat so that they can bring the baby home… all the while pondering the miracle of birth, my birth experiences, and the pure joy that is babies.

BABY, BABY, BABY!

We managed to watch The Hangover a couple of nights ago.  We loved it.  Zach Galifinakas is hilarious.  During the scene where one of the groomsmen meets the stripper/escort he accidently married, and she promptly starts openly breastfeeding, I turned to Scott and was like “that’s me, isn’t it.  Boob out, like all the time.”  And my loving mate responded “yes, only you have colourful tattoos all over your breasts to really draw the attention in.”  Thanks, honey.  We were laughing that I should make myself a scoop necked shirt that reads “INDISCREETLY BREASTFEEDING SINCE 2006!”  As I do.  It’s a natural thing, and if you don’t like it, don’t look.

I’d really like to tell you all about the great stride we’ve hit in the discipline department (also known as, our lives have all been markedly better lately) but I have to prep for a talk on EC I’m giving tomorrow, do some printing for a neighbour, flyer every house on our concession for an upcoming gathering and get groceries.

Life is good.  Busy, wonderful.

Here are some snaps from our excursion with our neighbour into our bush.

Here are some snaps my dad took out of a little plane recently, of a section of our property, the bustling Kincardine airport, the lighthouse in town.

Been doing neat crafts with the kids these days.  I forgot to take pictures of my version of April’s heart garland.  Mine are hanging from pins stuck into one of our beams, I think I will string them and put them in the kids room.  In a modified version of Maya’s heart craft, last night I stitched letters onto some felt and today the kids stuffed them full of wool and lavendar and Bob helped sew them closed.

After two weeks of quarantine, Bob went swimming today and tomorrow we’ll be off to play group with our newly bolstered immune systems.  The kids are playing with their Haba bricks, making crazy creations.

But I just can’t win with Bob right now.  I said to him just now: “super cool tower!” and he says “it’s not!  It’s terrible!”  Etc, etc.  It’s not just that he wants to be contrary, it’s that he’s determined everything should be…terrible.  Everything is in superlatives, the worst, never again, never EVER EVERRRR again in the whole history of the world will he build another block tower.

It’s also hard maintaining peaceful parenting when one child is hurting the other.  (Though she clearly idolizes him, no matter what he does to her).  And the LYING already… my goodness.    The sibling cruelty… I am so tired of it already.

All of my 2010 seeds have arrived.  I’m very excited.  I’ve also finished our farm tax, which brought about some interesting questions like “can we write off firearms”.  I discovered that this year the “containers and twine” category proved to be useful, and where to put custom killing.

We went on a great sleigh ride with our Amish neighbour into our bush the other day.  They’ve taken out two years of firewood for us and we will have some extra to sell.  If anyone local is interested, please email me.

Must go and entertain the kidlets and check on the leg of lamb (from our neighbour Israel) that’s cooking away.

I’m working on another Amish pattern based dress for Meeps.  I have added a zipper, intend to sew on an exterior pocket and have used wonderfully bright fabrics, all very UN-Amish things.  Hoping to have this done by spring.  There’s no pattern for the dress, you just estimate a box shape for the top, double the width for the skirt portion, and unlike most dress/shirts I’ve sewn, instead of attaching the arms to the body at the shoulders and then sewing it together at the sides, you insert the arms (already sewn into tubes) into holes you have cut into the body.  You could easily do it in an afternoon, if you were child free.  If not child free, estimate one week of evenings.

It’s not done, and I am not by ANY means an accomplished seamstress, so please excuse my wiggly stitches and yet-to-be trimmed threads.

Because I needed something else to do, I have decided to start to try to learn needlepointing.  I am attempting to sew a cut out flower from the body fabric onto a pocket.  I am guessing this would be easier if (1) I had one of those needlepoint hoops and (2) I had any basic idea at all about what I was doing.

Anyone do needlepoint?

How do I stop the threads from twisting and not laying flat?
Should I have folded the fabric, as the thread seems to pull through?
Where should I look up stitches and things, anything good (free) online?
I doubled my thread, was this wrong?