I have a real problem with patience.
Today I fried up some good old-fashioned green tomatoes. Not entirely because I was hungry (which I was), but because I'm having a really hard time keeping my hands off the tomato plants.
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So yeah ... we've been gone for a bit. But not really gone. Just ... took a hiatus. There has been a lot going on at our little homestead since we last talked, so let's catch up shall we?
Guineas, that is.
Oh we tried, but it just wasn't meant to be. 12 eggs and only six pipped the shell. Of that six, one didn't quite make it out and we'd read all of the literature that said we shouldn't help the chick out. That left five. Five keets that never once warmed up to us. Five keets that would squawk and scream if one of us dared to cough too loud. Five keets that shuddered in terror every time we'd turn on the light in the workshop where their brooder pen was located. When you move out to the country, you don't always realize how much the little things will change. We certainly didn't. We knew about the obvious - a longer drive to get to the nearest grocery store, an obvious lack of movie theaters, craft beer not even existing within 20 miles.
But here's a few tips to the things that we didn't expect. Hope they help you a little before (or maybe even during) your move to rural life. OK, I know that is about the unsexiest headline I could ever write. But seriously this thing has made life so much easier.
Meet my new life partner - the Shark steam mop. (Click to see the big picture.)
Because we have lots of poultry, we eat a lot of eggs.
Fried, poached, hard-boiled, soft-boiled, omelets, over easy, sunnyside up. There are tons of ways to prepare an egg, but arguably the simplest is to scramble it. Oddly enough, as simple as it seems, most of the time I order eggs in a restaurant they are terrible. Rubbery, dry, no flavor. Kinda how I picture George Hamilton would be, were one to intentionally lick him. Or, I guess unintentionally, lick him too. Me: "Hey ... can chickens fart?"
FF: "What?" Me: "Can chickens fart?" FF: *Mouth open.* Me: "Yesterday I distinctly heard one of the Welsummers let one rip." FF: "Why are you asking me? Do you think I'm an expert in flatulence?" Me: *blink* FF: "I don't know." Me: "It sounded like a fart." FF: "Maybe it was one of the kids." Me: "No, they were too far away. It was me and one chicken and I'd fess up if I did it." FF: "Google it." |
AuthorI'm the wife of a Fledgling Farmer(FF) and mom to Fledgling Farmer Boy(FFB) and Fledgling Farmer Girl(FFG). Archives
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