April in Pictures

April is being WONDERFUL here in New Hampshire. Lovely. Warm, windy, cool, sunny, cloudy, rainy, just delightful. Finally, after months of weather that only allowed short trips outside, it's all day, every day outside play. We get school done by 10am, hit the gym quick so Mommy doesn't lose her mind, then the rest is done here and there while we play.

Oh it's nice.



(Neighbor ducks who LOVE our yard because we have lots of running water.)

We added four little Rouen ducks to our flock. They are basically domesticated mallards who don't migrate and can't really fly. The babies are INSANELY cute, and we are hopeful that at least one of them will be a female for the eggs. But we are enjoying their extreme excitablity. They are SO SO SO cute.


See? ADORABLE!

My garden is blossoming a bit in a tiny little green house of sorts. I can't wait until the frost danger is past and we can put them in the ground!





My chicken-ladies are hard-workers turning soil, looking for anything that wriggles. They DO NOT appreciate the neighbor ducks and run those giant cowards off at any given opportunity.



My goodness. This little girl wants to be outside just as much as her brothers. Since she can't be out without supervision, LESS gets done inside the house. But truly, when she brings me her little tiny boots and begs for "owsigh" I can NOT say no.



What happens when we takes "selfies":


We are awesome like that.

April: Keep up the good work.

Mud Season

Spring is coming, it is! It is!!

I can see dead,  brown grass in my yard, and MUD IS EVERYWHERE.

It's Mud Season here in New England. We live on a dirt road and drive a white van. It's DISGUSTING.

This mud is a metaphor for my life, I tell you.




I'll take the mud right now, see? I'll accept it because while it's gross and ugly and cold and wet, it's BETTER THAN SNOW, better than it was.

And, mud means eventually, things will grow. Things will START to blossom.

Mud season will not last long. I'm sure of it.

And when it's over...

It'll be spring.

Life on the Farm, and Hope

Winter is streaky this year, freezing, thawing, freezing, snowing on TOP of the sheets of ice. I'm trying not to be completely offended by the entire season, but frankly it isn't going well.

The ice has caused the gate to the goats to get stuck and break, so now I have to suck in my ever-expanding belly along with my marshmallow puffy coat in order to squeeze in to feed those menaces. Additionally, they are BORED and also offended by the weather, and escape at every given opportunity. Since they free range in the warm weather, the fact that they are loose would be less of an issue except that the lack of forage when they escape has led them to chewing on my house. This is unacceptable.

But, the bright side is, regardless of the bitter cold, freezing cold snowy days, our little chicken ladies keep on laying. I'm very grateful. We've seen a bit of a drop, somedays only getting one or two eggs, but many days we get four or five. With five chickens I'd call that success. Getting them in the house before they freeze is a challenge though.

So, our little farm life isn't without it's worries or fears. I worry every night when I see how low the temp will drop, even bringing all the birds in one night when the temps were way below zero. The goats were fine, a nice thick layer of bedding and another, along with their spongy, wooly winter coats kept them comfortable. But, I stress and worry. We have had a bout of some sort of respiratory virus with both the girls, but they got over it fine, and are not worse for the wear.

It's a funny life we're choosing here. I think about undoing it all the time. Maybe I don't REALLY want to do this. Maybe the stress and worry is too much. Maybe my heart just can't take it.

I come in from chasing a wily, house-chewing goat back in her pen AGAIN and declare to Derek that THIS TIME I mean it, sell the damn goats on Craigslist!

But I don't mean it.

 I have a tendency to pull away from strong emotions, to distance myself from things that hurt or might hurt (I'm human) and I know that our little farm is a breeding ground for heartbreak, just like it is for good things.

But then I find myself at the farm store, reaching for books like these, bringing them home, and dreaming of spring when I can plant, then summer when I can chase goats from my strawberries, and hope for the future, for the new life that is promised.

So, life on this micro-farm is changing, growing, expanding. We'll plant and toil and chase and hope.

Updates from the Micro Farm

Well. We'd been talking since we moved, okay since even before then, about how lovely a grass-eating goat would be. Then I have had the privilege of mowing the lawn twice now, and well. Say hello to Sir Linus Goatington:










He's a sweet little wether Oberhasli (which means he's been "fixed") and likes to headbutt the dog, who does NOT appreciate it. Jonah, in just three days, has learned to avoid Linus' front end, Little Linus has taken to the weed eating I'd hoped he'd enjoy, like a fish to water, or a goat to overgrown grass. No, he won't be able to handle the entire acre of grass that requires mowing, but any little bit helps.

We like him.
Additionally, things are growing. They are a bit desperate for some nice warm sunshine (rain rain rain rain rain rain) but they are hanging in there regardless.



And I don't believe I ever showed you the completed (okay, not quite, but enough that the chickens can live in it) coop.



Derek did a fabulous job. The girls agree.


Our little micro farm is growing.

As Derek was assembling an "emergency" pen for Linus on Sunday morning (Father's Day), he looked at me and said, "Am I a farmer now?"

I'm not really sure, but nonetheless, our little house on the hill is blooming and growing.

It's a dream come true.

Update From the Tiny Farm on the Hill

Well. Things are moving right along.

School is continuing to be a challenge as the weather is turning warmer. I knew it would be this way. But we have to keep on it. It's not easy convincing those little boys to sit still long enough to get it done. We'll keep at it.

Our little micro farm is growing. The seeds are starting to poke their way heavenward (minus the few that Ezra accidentally knocked onto the porch. Oops. Maybe they'll grow there anyway.

The trees we planted don't seem dead yet. That is hopeful.

The chickens are fat.

The dog is lazy, except for this evening when we were chasing chickens and he decided he wanted to participate. We can NOT have that. No sir. I'm pretty sure he would have killed a chicken if he'd caught one, not necessarily on purpose, but still. But he was stopped and sent in the house. But it was some drama! Oh my!

We're in serious talks trying to actually add MORE creatures to our little place here on the hill. Maybe we are crazy. Maybe. But dreams are coming true, and that is what we are here for. There is so much delight in the few "farm" chores we have. The boys don't seem to tire of them. So we're counting our blessings, embracing the little corner of the world we've worked so hard for. It's wonderful.


($10 prize if you can guess what is all over my shirt!)

Miriam was plagued with a high fever for three days, and so we headed to urgent care on Mother's day. Now, we are squirting antibiotics down her throat twice a day. Thank you ear infection! She's much improved. Not that she was acting sick in the slightest, minus the 103 degree fever, because she wasn't. She was behaving as bright and sunny as ever. Dork-butt.

So, yes. There is the update.

My Garden Report

My garden last year was small and simple. It grew really well though! It was just little.

My garden this year (different yard!) was an utter and complete fiasco. I mean like 3 tiny tomatoes. Everything else, EVERYTHING ELSE died.

Why?

Well, it is a very shady yard. I planted our garden in the brightest spot I could find this spring. Then all the trees grew leaves, and all the shrubs grew back and nothing survived.

Tragic.

Oh, wait, I forgot. In addition to the three tiny tomatoes (that Oliver ate) we got two small strawberries.

SO SO tragic.

But, word has gotten out that 1. My garden was a failure and 2. My children love produce.

And kindly neighbors have brought us tomatoes, squashes, zukes, cukes, peaches (oh sweet peaches!), lettuce, and on and on. Yum.


Neighbor tomatoes!!

So, yes, garden=dead, but neighbors=kind. We're still enjoying garden produce, I just had nothing to do with it.

What to do in SLC with Kids: Gilgal Sculpture Garden

So, the weather was perfect. The kids needed OUT, and I remembered a little hollow in downtown Salt Lake City. I hadn't been in probably nine years. I hoped it was still there...

 We called a friend, and we ran for it.



Gilgal Sculpture Garden isn't exactly a park, and not exactly a garden. It's full of very religious, extremely strange rock and stone sculptures. There are "No Climbing" signs on some, not on others, so the kids could run and kick a ball and climb. It's incredibly secluded, tucked between houses. Literally, unless you know what you're looking for, you won't find it. Proof: my friend got lost and said, "What is it I'm looking for???"


It is quiet and delightful. We had so much fun. The boys loved it. I did NOT love the lack of actual potty. Oliver used the port-o-john TWICE while were there. I wanted to die. Both times.



Check it out if you're looking for fun and FREE entertainment. It was a lovely lovely way to spend an afternoon. Bring a picnic. It's wonderful.

A House of Dreams

I stumbled into a dream the other night.

It was just a regular old Friday night.

And then. The house. Not too big, not too small. Old, so old it was historic. Impeccably cared for. In perfect, beautiful brick condition.

The pastures. Green and buzzing in the early evening.

The horses. Whinnying as we approached.

The yard. Shaded and fragrant.

From September 2011

The pond. Rippling and clear.

The creek. Bubbling and rushing.

I was suddenly staring my dream future in the face.

From September 2011

 "This is my dream house!" I texted my husband.

"Tell them we'll take it!" he texted back.

"It's not for sale." I mournfully texted back.

I know that I am living my dream now. I have everything I need, and practically everything I want.

But as I wandered the grounds of this perfectly cared-for farm, I desperately wished it was mine.

I wished to feed the horses a carrot or two, say good-night to the ducks and wander over to the fire pit and find my family all there roasting marshmallows.

Then when it was much too late, we'd climb sleepily up the hill and retire into our warm comfy beds, safe under the roof of dreams.

Dreams.

But instead, I cleaned up from our party, cooled and wetted the coals from our fire, made sure the actual farm owners knew we were heading out, and stared longingly, one last time.

Someday.

Someday my farm will come.

Someday my boys will run the fields of our own. Our horses will nibble carrots from our hands, and we'll bask in the shade of our ancient trees.

But for now, we huddle tightly together under our roof of reals. How we love our roof. Our trees, our ragtag yard full of a weeds, littered toys and a tiny garden in the back. Our yard that is an amusement park for dragon flies and the neighbor cat who hunts them. And chain link fences for climbing.

From Drop Box

Our tiny house full of corners. Something stacked in every space.

Yes, we are tightly packed.

But right now, what could be better?

Home.

In My Garden

I have been back and forth and back and forth on this whole gardening thing. For the first thing, it's a lot of work. My yard is a DISASTER! It's obvious there's been a garden back there at some point, but I think it's been years.

On the other hand, ya'll, I freaking LOVE GARDENING! LIKE a lot.

So, today, the weather, oh it was beautiful, and the babies woke up happy from their naps, and I discovered you can buy hand tillers, to turn the ground over.

An $80 trip to Lowe's and some serious sweat and work from me AND my three handy helpers and this is where we are at tonight:

From May 2011

Three strawberry plants and two tomato plants in very cracked, dry soil that we turned to  mud with some organic plant food mixed in. 

The plot is TINY. I have plans to fill it with carrots and maybe beans. Then I want to turn over another little spot in a different spot of the yard for peas and peppers. 

Oh how I love it! We were muddy, and dirty and sweaty and we went to Mickey D's for dinner to celebrate our triumph. I did have to clarify that we are NOT going to McDonald's every single time we work in the garden. This was a ONE TIME DEAL. 

They were cool with that. :) 

I love gardening. I love the soil and the toil. I love literally reaping the benefits of sweet tomatoes and crisp sugar peas. I love it all. It's hard work, and often it's hot, but it's so worth it. Besides what a great teaching and learning opportunity it is! Today we talked about bugs and worms and how some are good for gardens and some are bad.  It was a blast. 

Last summer, great with child, many MANY mornings, Spencer and I would slip out to the garden before anyone else was up and gather the things that had ripened in the sun the day before. It was so special, and I cherished that time. In the early evenings Henry and I would water everything and Oliver would "help." Derek would wash produce within an inch of it's life to assure quality and that it was bug free. It was perfect. 

 This summer, I'm hoping that something grows and even more memories in my garden with my boys.

P.S. Ezra is five months old today. 5 months on 5-5. Cool. :)