Where do golf clubs come from?

It's the question every parent dreads,

"Mommy, where do golf clubs come from?"

You stammer for a moment... sweat beads out from under your bra... your normally pleasant child now seems like a Gestapo interrogator, busting into your house at four in the morning on a cold and dark night in Sebastopol (or maybe Graton). You try to begin as so many doomed souls before you have begun,

"Um... well, it's like this... there's some birds... and there's some bees, and, um-"

When you finally do explain it, the child is horrified,

"Is that where you and daddy got your golf clubs?" she yells, indignant and horrified. "I don't believe it!"

Unfortunately, for me, it is too late. My daughter has already popped the question. But for the rest of you, I give you this charming lie:

Fresh, Organic Golf Clubs

Golf clubs grow on farms, and then they are delivered into your chimney by a stork.

I give you permission to use this photo with your children. Don't feel bad about lying to them. Everyone does it. One day, when they are more mature, you can tell them the truth about where golf clubs come from.

Until then, keep up the mindless parenting! And remember: I know best. Always.  

Typical Delivery Day

Today was turkey delivery day. Also, art delivery day and egg delivery day and frozen chicken delivery day and thyme delivery day.

This was my favourite order of the day:



She ordered a 17 pound Bourban Red turkey, two organic frozen chickens, a dozen eggs, a portrait of her daughter, and a portrait of her cat. I threw in some fresh thyme for free.

Later, after I had brought everything and stayed a while chit chatting, I was leaving and her boyfriend said,

"Thanks for the time. I mean, we really needed time. We even bought some time today, but I think we needed more, so thanks for the time!"

She was nodding,

"Yeah, we needed more time, today." Don't we all? And what in the world are they smoking?

"I don't understand," I said.

"You gave us the free thyme, in the box," he said.

"Oh. OH! The thyme, right. The thyme, not the time. Well, you're welcome! Happy Thanksgiving."

You see, I thought, for some reason, that they were thanking me for the time they got to spend with Heather's son, Ralph, because I was a half an hour late- I needed more time! Heather lives far away from me and sent her children to pick up the turkey. (Ralph recently turned sixteen and got a drivers license.) So, Ralph was sitting in this strangers' house for half an hour, hob nobbing with unknown hippies, and then it turned out that his little sister and her friend were in the back seat of the car the entire time.

I came, finally, and handed him the styrofoam cooler. He had the most strangely delighted look on his face. Later, I called Heather and apologized on her answering machine. Still later, her message appeared on my answering machine,

"Don't be sorry! The kids had a great time picking up the turkey. Ralph thought it was just like a drug deal and it was the most fun he'd had in ages!"

The Life Pastoral: Duck Edition

When I went outside this morning, five of the ducks (all of them Mallards) were outside of the electric fence. I opened up part of the fence, and instead of everyone else going out, the five who had escaped went back in. Home bodies, I guess.

They stayed inside their fence with the gate open until about five PM this evening. They timidly ventured forth. Little Z said,

"One of them looked me in the eye. I think he wanted to kiss me!"

I soon discovered that their favourite food is dandylions! I should have let them out a long time ago. Now I am about to go out and see if they decided to go back home for the night, so I can protect them with the electric fence. I hope so!



Update: The ducks went home for the night. Good ducks.

I'm allergic to ice cream. It makes me fat.

It goes like this: We eat for energy. Everything has energy, and the stuff we eat is energy. That's why we eat it. The Eastern mythologies talk about chi and different kinds of energy. The Hindus have Karma. I think that, when we raise food unnaturally, it creates a bad sort of energy. Bad chi. Bad karma. And when you eat it, that bad energy is passed into your system. Sometimes, it makes you sick. If you figure it out, you call it an allergy. I think most people don't figure it out, though. Most people just feel sort of blah all of the time and get used to it. We get fat and stuff. We get there so gradually, we barely notice.

To muddy the waters, though, I think there are people who aren't really allergic, whose bodies actually deal quite well with all of the bad chi, but people crave attention, so they make up allergies or exaggerate their symptoms for attention. And you never know who is for real!

Although, maybe it doesn't matter. We shouldn't have to deal with this at all.


The eggs we sell are so absolutely wonderful tasting compared to store eggs. They are just so yummy. It makes no sense to me at all, because we don't do anything special for these chickens. They don't have their own spa out back, you know. They're just eggs. And the same goes for the veggies from the garden. It makes me wonder just how bad is the food from the middle aisles of the grocery store? The packaged food? What the heck is going on?

I'm sort of afraid to think about it.

The title of this entry is a quote from Grandma Ruth.

Old Hens and New Turkeys

I have this friend who raises chickens in her backyard. Chickens in your backyard seem to be a thing now. It's kind of a movement, isn't it?

But what happens when they get too old to lay eggs?

Mary asked me if I would take her old hens. I said that I would just eat them, and she said that was fine. Not just fine, actually, but she was grateful. She offered me gifts. So, naturally, I accepted. She came over this morning with three old hens in some beat up crates and boxes. Her two little boys were with her, and I got the impression they didn't know about the chickens' fate.

Little Z, however, was well informed. After they left, she wanted to accompany me to "The Killing Tree" where we hang them upside down and decapitate them. I asked her several times if she was sure that she wanted to see this, and she was. She stood a few feet back while I did the deed. The first chicken was very quick and smooth. She was standing behind me, so I couldn't see her expression. I explained why the chicken's legs were still moving, even though it had no head.

I turned around and she looked so shocked! I've never seen anyone's mouth hanging open, for real, in shock.

"Are you surprised?" I asked her.

"Yeah!"

"What was surprising about that?"

"You cut its head off!"

"How did you think I would do it?"

"I thought you would burn it with fire."

My daughter thinks I set live chickens on fire!

I do not set live chickens on fire.

And here is an unrelated picture of Mrs. Turkey and some of her poults:



She looks suspicious of me. She may have good reason.

Everything I Need Is Falling from the Sky

Monday: On the way home from work, I noticed some plastic fencing on the side of the road, in someone's trash. I stopped and picked it up. A guy waved at me from the house, as if to say, "Take it! Please!"

Tuesday: Ten flowering trees from the Arbor Day came in the mail.

Tuesday Evening: I noticed that the ducklings were small enough to fit through the weaves of the old chicken fence I had around them. It took me half an hour and a small hand injury, but I caught all of the ones that escaped and put them in the duck house for the night. I was very worried that they would really escape for good next time, and get eaten by hungry raccoons.

Wednesday Morning: I woke up still worried about those ducklings. I used the fencing I found by the side of the road to reinforce the duckling fence and reshape it like a funnel, so that they would automatically go into their little house when they were afraid. I had exactly enough fence to finish the job. The fencing from the trash was soft plastic, so it wouldn't hurt the ducklings, and it had very small weaves, so they couldn't fit through it. In short, it was the perfect fix to my duck problem. Free from the trash.

Wednesday Evening: I planted the trees on the hill by the garage. I was tired. There was no way I had the energy to haul water up that hill and water those new trees. Miraculously, I heard thunder in the distance. As soon as I finish planting the last tree, it started to rain.

When it started raining, I ran out to the ducklings. I walked into their newly configured run with the "up cycled" fence (it used to be trash picking; now it's up cycling!) and the ducklings ran directly into their little house (also taken from someone's trash), and I closed the door. Now they wouldn't catch a chill from playing in the rain (they love playing in water). Cuddled together in their house, they were beyond cute. It took me all of fifteen seconds to get them inside.

It rained all night, thoroughly watering my trees.



You can't seen them, yet, but that's the hill.

How to build a greenhouse in ***three easy steps:

1. Get together your tools. The view finder will be crucial to this project.

2. Wear eye protection. If you're like me, you may not be able to see out of your eye protection goggles. This may cause you to cut off your finger. However, the eye protection goggles will keep your blood from splattering into your eye, so you can still call 9-1-1. You may never play the violin again, but at least you can still see! And really, which is more important: seeing out of your eyes, or playing bluegrass for your cats? Think about it. The choice is obvious.

3. Build the greenhouse, like this:

4. Post pictures of your greenhouse to facebook and press "like". You can like your own posts now on Facebook! One more friend for you: You.*

For a more detailed explanation of how to build a greenhouse, look back a few days for a great video, which is how I really built the greenhouse. I watched the video.

You can learn anything on the internet.

*Side note about Facebook: I noticed today that 8 people follow me on Facebook, and I don't know any of them. At all.

** Well, actually, I know who one lady is, but in her case, knowing who she is makes it worse.

*** By "3" I mean "4". I hope that isn't confusing for anyone.

**** 3 is the new 4. FYI.

Greenhouse

I think I might build this greenhouse:



It's a cold, rainy spring this year! It's even snowing a bit today. It makes me think I need a greenhouse!

Chickens enjoying the weather

Farm Blog

I have a new blog all about the farm here.

The Bioturkey 3000!*

*Turkeys not included.

Nice...

We did what they call the "final walk through" of the new house in the country this evening, and it is so nice. There was a kind note on the table from the sellers, the sort of note that I would like to leave someone, someday. It listed what sorts of fish were in the stream that runs through it, even! And the names of all the neighbors, little tidbits about them, and how to recognize them (which cars they drive). There were the names of some people who like to hunt on the land, saying they would probably contact us soon. They told us the kinds of native grasses they planted in the pasture. Strangely, they didn't mention who planted the huge crop of corn or when they would come and clear it, but maybe they will tell us, tomorrow.

Gosh, it's nice. Fish in the stream, even. The whole thing is sort of like when you find a twenty dollar bill in your pocket that you completely forgot was there, only on a much larger scale.

It all seems incredibly under priced. Hm...

There was this door in the basement... *TLBP remembered it being in one spot, but then it was in a different spot this time... maybe this is like the House of Leaves... maybe that's why it's so cheap?

Nah. It's just nice.



*Tender Lovin' Banjo Player