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.

We canoed lots, but never enough:

Scott also got to join Tim and the Cut Down Crew on a hunting excursion.  Our shed is stocked with decoys and our house has been a continual honk-a-thon.  I wonder if this will be like bagpipes, if it will sound better with practice?  The children have sure found an effective way to get us out of bed.

Can I be a big weenie for a minute?  I need to talk about hair.  I’ve got an appointment to get my hair done next Friday.  Cut, colour.  I really enjoyed 5 years of being dye free and while there is something endearing about having your honey help cut your hair, I am looking forward to a fresh look for fall.  I am still enjoying my sidecut, even though I lost count of how many women had sidecuts in Montreal.   I am leaning towards ombre highlights, though I am sensing I may be arriving late to that trend too.  It was Yolandi’s hair (the one with the rats) that originally inspired my Amish bowl cut last summer, and while I love that white blonde I know I can’t handle the maintenance.  But a girl can dream…

Which of these pictures should I bring to the hair salon with me?

It was wonderful to be around other tattooed folk.  I got to be with my husband for five whole days, doing what adults do.  Awesome.  I was completely awed by Mike Rubendall‘s book, chuffed to see lots of SuicideGirls trotting about, discovered Ruthless is nothing like her television persona (surprise), and reminded that the drama we felt was such an anomaly for our shop this year is all too often par for the course.  We are far from the only ones whose apprentice quit abruptly only to go work down the road!  Nice to see some light in an otherwise dark situation.

4 nights was just long enough away that I enjoyed myself without missing my children, and just long enough that they didn’t have to get missing on me.  They had great fun with grandparents and we were both relieved to be reunited for that 5th night.  We came home laden with goodies, including this years Halloween costumes (Maggie: fireman; Bob: superhero) and an oversized stuffed trout from Uncle Steve and Aunty Morgan.   Can’t share any of the photos he shot until the magazine goes to print, but Steve sure does have magic in his light box I tell you.

Today brought us the annual Terry Fox Run, which Scott and my dad ran once before everyone showed up and again when the run began formally.  Twice for good measure, just to make it stick!

We’ve been enjoying a leisurely afternoon, soaking up the last of these rays before we wind up swathed in downy feathers and GoreTex for six months.

Hope you are too.

…Stand in the Light…

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.

Delicious dinners at the Harbour Street Brasserie, where we get to play dress up like adults and enjoy perfection on a plate.

Tiring out the children with sunshine.  Happiness induced exhaustion.

Paddling in our Bananas Gorilla Mobile.  (The canoe is bright yellow).  I LOVE Lake Huron.

In other news, my parents are putting their awesome house back on the market.   If I had to live in town, I would live there in a minute.  It’s right on the lake, you could keep some chickens if you wanted, the lot is absolutely private and really big.

We’ve had lots of visitors lately, which has been wonderful.  This spring was really shit terrible in the morale department, having been made quite the fool of repeatedly  by people I thought were friends.   It has been hard to digest how desperate I was for comraderie.  Was I really that lonely?  Naive?  I realized I expect people not to like ME, but to BE like me; if I have a problem I am quick to flush it out.  But assuming makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’ now, doesn’t it.

I have reconnected with old friends and made new friends this summer and it has been a very pleasant and rejuvenating experience.   We have continued to foster some wonderful relationships that I could not be happier about.  Bob and Maggie have been adopted by yet another set of grandparents, the love is multiplying.  Such a beautiful thing.

After nearly 5 years of babies and breastfeeding, I am settling back into my body, gaining independence from the children and rekindling the homestead fires too.   I am a very lucky woman.

[Sweaters courtesy of Philosopher's Wool]

(Repeat off key, x eleventy million).

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.

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!