Last January was rocky, and regularly unpleasant.  The start of 2012, by comparison has been as light and easy as the fluffy sheep who are my temporary charges.

Our family has taken up with the Bourgeois, who own Philosopher’s Wool in beautiful Inverhuron.  We are farm sitting while they take some time to themselves to travel.  We are staying in the Guest House, an incredibly beautiful structure, which has in floor heat (practically heaven) and character pouring out of every beam and nook.  The children have learned how to weave on looms, I am learning to knit again and am working on mastering the art of sock darning.   Life, despite having two houses to mind, is radically simple.

When they have been home, our hosts have been an inspiration, a source of guidance and a huge support.  Ann and Eugene are in Costa Rica at present and my kids (and I) are wondering WHEN, OH WHEN are they going to come back.

We are here until about March, and are taking advantage of this little adventure to purge at the Duncan Farm, and do some light renos.  Seeing as we moved The Essentials into the Guest House, that what remains at the Duncan Farm is largely expendable.  I am hoping to move home to a simplified home, which will be easier for me to tend to.

We learned a big lesson in 2011, in business that bigger is not always better.  I have taken that to heart.  I need to tend the family, friendships, the flock, the farm and the finances in a more focused and specific way.  I need to continue to chase after personal happiness, and not worry about those who are on a different bend.

Seed catalogues have arrived and I am beginning to plan 2012′s garden.  Bob is burning through his grade 1 curriculum and Mags is reading already.  I am lounging on luxurious woolens, keeping an eye on the children and the chicken coop and am being reminded regularly what a hunk of a husband I have.

Right here, right now.

I still have to can applesauce and tomatoes, which presents a totally different work flow than chores.  I can’t say I am looking forward to this part of process, the inside the kitchen part.  I prefer hauling feed bags to stirring bubbling pots.  I wish I loved canning.  I do love the satisfaction of eating the finished product, and so I will toil and trouble.

Bob has been living on his bicycle.  We even took it to Clifton Springs on our vacation this past weekend.  He rode to the park, Meeps took her balance bike… leaving Scott & I in the dust wondering where our babies had gone.

We are so blessed to live on such a big, beautiful lake.  We don’t take advantage of it nearly enough.

We finally got our water line put in to the goat shed and the new out building.  Next we need to connect fittings.  I hope this part of the process doesn’t take another year to complete, but I am thankful for the step in the right direction.  Not hauling water jugs in snowstorms is very appealing.

The children had no shortage of entertainment here this summer.  We spent countless hours perched on top of their play structure, watching crews work.  First we had new windows put in, which meant saws and big glass.  Then we had our outbuilding put up, which meant giant augers, cement trucks and a big bucket lift.  Then we had a massive tractor and tree spade arrive and stay for the day, clearing out the trees from inside the outbuilding.  Last was the water line, which brought the piece de resistance: The Mighty Excavator.  It made a 3′ deep trench which snaked all over the back lawn, much to the delight of the children.

The pleasure of heavy machinery!

(There are two children standing on the tracks on the left side, with tongues out and fingers in their eyes, dancing in ecstasy over the excavator).

Every year teaches us something new.  I have joked in the past that we know we are improving because we kill less stuff.  If unintentional death toll was actually the bar of success, we failed big time this year.

We only managed to get 65/100 chickens to butcher thanks to raccoons and heart attacks.  We were endlessly trapping coons, which while helpful, is ultimately not how one would prefer to spend ones morning, nor is finding the maimed poultry corpses in their wake.  It was a bad year to be a chicken on the Duncan Farm.  At least I didn’t STEP on any chickens this year.  We lost more in the beginning this year too (2% is average for us) to the point where Meeps pointed out a sickly looking baby chick and asked if she should “get a log”.  (To cull them).  Next year I will be extra cautious with travel during the brooder weeks and I will be even more vigilant with feed storage and quicker to break out the not live for very long traps.

I had to put down little Cindy Ray, whose birth I attended like a first time parent.  We recently had a vet out again to assess her mother Suki.  Suki has always been a suck, she is the lowest on the totem pole and loves to rest her head on my shoulder while I hug her.  Turns out Suks has pleurisy and is a chronic pneumonia carrier.  We have to put her down before we can even think of bringing another animal here, which we would be doing soon for winter breeding.  Next year I will stop hugging my goats.

I have put the love I have for my farm directly into my animals and forged relationships with them that I should not have.  I expected Suki would be a long standing fixture in our herd, based on nothing but my own desire to have her in my life.  It was a mistake on my part.  We can raise them in a manner we find ethically acceptable and still bask in the joy of their being without crossing over a line of attachment.

Hard lesson learned.

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!

I had to stop unloading hay because the vet came to put down Cindy Ray for me.  She had recovered from her mange, her coat was thick and glossy and black (she was at one point this summer 95% bald) but she was developing hundreds of papules all over her skin that quickly became infected, and she had a massive cyst under her still scaly tail that would not heal.  We looked a step away from gangrene.  It was very clear to me that as our vet suspected initially that her immune system was not keeping up with her needs, and likely would never.

My hands were the first to touch her to bring her into this world and the last to hold her as she passed from it.

My heart is heavy today.

Pigs have learned to drink from their automatic waterer. This is a huge blessing, it means no more hauling 200′ of hose to them 2x a day, or gallon after gallon of water in buckets.  Their wallow is impressive, and it looked like they might tunnel out of their fencing, but they seemed to have abandoned the project.  (We wound up naming them Pig, Pig and Pig this year).

I planted more flowers this year, I guess I was feeling industrious. They are in big pots and all along our balcony.  There are many pots this year: baskets of begonias, rosemary, lavender, leeks, lambs ears, chamomile, calendula, zinnias, lemon balm, sheep sorrel and basil all have their own pots, which I am actually remembering to water!

My potatoes are going berserk in their big tractor tires.  I mulch with straw so I don’t have to dig them out.

A row of calendula, which I use for salves and soaps.

My transplanted mulberry tree is still alive!  And doing great.  And I have also managed to keep my blueberry bushes alive.  Very exciting stuff.  Things are not yet dead.  VICTORY IS MINE!

My brassicas are plugging along.  We are growing brussel sprouts, cabbage and broccoli this year.

Squash is starting to flower.  Spaghetti squash and pumpkins this year.  I see no need to grow zucchini as people seem to drop it off by the bag full, happy to be rid of it.

Growing sweet potatoes for the first time this year, they seem very happy so far.

I have roughly 60 tomato plants.  I figure that ought to leave enough for the horn worms and children to pillage, and still put some away.

Scott and I celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary.  I love him so much and am so lucky to have someone who loves me, as I am.  We had hoped to take a honeymoon this year, but with the farm in full swing we did not have the time.  Hopefully this means we’ll have a 10 year anniversary honeymoon blow out.  I genuinely look forward to every minute, every year I will get to spend with my husband.

I had no idea when we first happened to kiss, after all of those years, that this… this big beautiful life we have together… would explode into fruition.  We welcomed into our home another beautiful piece from Jason Tennant to celebrate our love and remind us that peace is the way.

Having recently weeded our emotional garden, I look forward to a year ahead of new growth and glory.  We must thin to create space for the full potential of our creations.

My little Meeps turned 3.  Unreal.  We lit off fireworks and ate a chocolate cake that weighed as much as she weighs.  Life is bursting with bounty, full of joy.

We are so blessed.

We are still having predator problems. We have caught several raccoons in our not live for very long trap.  But one (at least) is still scaling easily up the 4+ foot tall turkey brooder doors to snack on animal feed, thankfully remaining unaware that on the other side of the flimsy wood is a baby turkey buffet.  And this morning I went out to discover this, the chicken would have been pulled through the 2″ gap between the metal bar and the ground.  Half chewed pelvis, feathers and a foot.  Terrific.  Good thing the kids are having a sleepover this eve, because I know what Scott and I will be up to all night long.

Everything else is super.  Our pre-loved cover-all type building is going up quick and easy, thanks to a super work crew.  “Ground Up Contracting” is rocking the monkey.  Pigs are growing (and eating) like teenagers.  The laying hens were let out to wander the yard, promptly destroyed my strawberries and several flower & herb plots and have been grounded until harvest.  The kids were ecstatic for the Teddy Bear Parade, and we are all super stoked for tonight: the first pipe band parade of the year (a weekly event here).

Just waiting for some decent weather, I’ve done chores the last several times in the rain, which is getting a bit wearing.  Bring on SUMMER, please!

I posted this on my Facebook page already, so this may be redundant for some.  For the rest, the following highlights the low points of my week last week, starting on Monday.  My apologies in advance to those with rural stars in their eyes.

“Bad week to be a chicken on the Duncan Farm.  Cooked 10+ birds alive in the brooder on Monday when the door swung shut.  (This is one of the reasons I basically don’t leave once the babies come until they are in the freezer).  Lost one each day since to predator trying to pull them THROUGH the hardware cloth (it ain’t happening…) or under the big tractor. Had to mercy kill the survivors.  Before having my morning tea, which is plainly unfair.  (One had no wing, the other no leg, it’s not even like the chick hardly notices, but we still kill them). Last night was cold so I guess the chicks had a pile up and I found one flattened one this morning. Cleaning up corpses every single day this week.
During epic lawn mowing (it takes nearly 8 hours to mow our lawn, which is a necessity as most of it is nettle, thistle and other growths with hypodermic foliage) I paused for a minute to notice Alva (the goat) with her head stuck between the fencing gates (she had tiptoed up a swiveling latch inside, which she had kicked down in the process). Dangling from her throat, literally choking to death in front of me. Couldn’t open it any further, had to cram my hand through the fence to lift her up (she’s heavier than you’d think, esp with 1 hand) and over the chain holding the gate shut.

Goats also escaped 2x this week. This is because as animals with hidden thumbs, goats are agents of Satan.  This is because if your fence won’t hold water, it won’t hold a goat.  In conclusion: if you have no trouble, buy a goat.

Dog has had violent runny poo and vomiting all week. Every day this week we have cleaned liquid shit off the floor. She presses her ass against the crate door at night and it unleashes in a 2-3′ span.  This is because the dog has been following the chicken tractor around as they are now out of the brooder.  Instead of eating the shit from the 5 chickens in the layer tractor, she is now cleaning up after 80 birds.  The dog is spraying chicken shit out of her orifices.

Treating Cindy Ray (goat) topically now that the weather is nicer. Had her quarantined in one half of the goat shed for the beginning of the week because I didn’t want her mother licking off the medicine. Let her out last night (her mother has been BAWLING at the door for her) and Suki (her mom) now does not recognize her because she smells different and is beating the shit out of this poor little baby.”

It is now Wednesday, and the weekend and this week have started out just ducky.  Except tonight I noticed for the first time that I have slugs all over my garden and they are very hungry little fuckers.  It is no wonder  because in between the raised beds, the stagnant water goes well up mid calf and the sections of the bed that are unraised grab your heels and suck your footwear off in a single step.  Thankfully Detective Bob has been put to work, seeking out the culprits and crushing them.  It is remarkable how much more help they are this year.  I can’t believe I have planted entire gardens with them as infants strapped to my body in various papooses.  Now they are planting seeds and transplants, helping weed and pick slugs.  Unreal.

On a different note, I’m about to get into bed.  I’m wearing a cloth menstrual pad the size of a throw pillow, a Diva cup and I’ve laid out a black towel, which will be used.  I was just made aware of uterine ablation… is it entirely insane that I am giving thought to this option?  I just can’t imagine doing this monthly for 20 more years.  It’s feels like insult to injury now that we are done having children.  I’ve got no hippy love for my cycle left in my body.

Input welcomed.

Very, very soon the chicks will be going out on pasture.  They are 4 weeks to the day of the Buff Orphington layers and ducks come to take over the brooder.  The turkeys come 2 weeks after that.  Still need to acquire some weaned lambs.  May be able to do 2 runs of pigs this year, ours are nearing 100 lbs already I am sure.

Have gotten nothing in the garden really but 100 new strawbs and 50 new raspberry canes.  (Did that the day after my hand tattoo).  My spinach, chard and kale drowned in all of our non-stop, semi-torrential rain, so I need to replant.  I am happy not to be like some of my neighbours who are reseeding acres.  This will be a long summer.

Dug in 3 nice cedar trees yesterday.  My transplanted mulberry and black currants are taking nicely, as are the new blueberry bushes.    Looks like we are going to have to move a few rows of trees for the outbuilding (that we got a building permit for in record time) that will be going up in 1 week.

Brought home a box of bunnies, 2 beautiful Birthday Pheasants and the ugliest rooster in the county from the Keady Livestock Auction on Scott’s birthday.  Pictures of the pheasants to come yet.

Had an incredibly wonderful May TwoFour weekend.  We are so blessed to have so many wonderful friends and family nearby.

This feeling of non-stop action, of Spring Fever, is what makes enduring (what can be) 6 months of winter worth it.  This is the life.

2011′s baby chicks are doing great, they just arrived. They have their own dedicated shed this year, which is working beautifully.  I am SO pleased with the set up, as the shed contains enough floor space for them and for feed storage as it is divided in half.

Our Amish neighbours, who do not have the ease of using heat lamps (no electricity) have rigged up a propane heated halved oil drum for their chicks, and so far so good.  Much nicer than having them in the kitchen by the wood stove, as was done before.

Really savouring every second of their fleeting cuteness.  (And I’ve booked them in for processing already, not leaving it to the last minute this year, no sir!)

Thank you, honey.

Also, the pigs have come.  They are Berkshire/Tamworth, the black one is female, the other are male.  This is what happens when you have two artistic, non-farmers pick out piglets: “Hmmm, I think I like the spotted ones!”  Yup.  That’s us.

Last years’ pigs were named after rappers (Pig Daddy Kane and Piggy Smalls).  Thinking something more Shakespearean this year?  Hamlet Piglet and…. this is where you come in.  Please suggest names for our new merry trio!