I
started by turning over the soil in the two beds that had been chicken
tractored already. The first, most recently occupied, bed had a layer of
chicken straw and poop over the winter’s leaf mulch. It needed to be turned.
The leaves, straw, spilled food, and poop will compact and turn anaerobic if
left untouched all winter. It smells
nasty and nothing will grow in it come spring. But, if I give the whole bed a
rough toss, mixing soil into the organic matter, it will all break down, slowly
in January and February and quickly by April.
I turned the first bed and then gave the older bed, which had just a
layer of leaves untouched a toss as well. All the while, the chickens were
having a discussion; they wanted to dig around in the beds themselves. Before I
moved on, I let them out.
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Raised bed in December
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Hike-u
Downpours
and road lakes.
Good
day for the library.
I
love my rain boots.
Sunday
Merganzers
spread wings.
Great
Blue Heron stands silent.
Fruitcake
and hot tea.
Monday
Veiws
of Soap Creek.
Secret
breeding ground of the newts.
Rain.
Sun. Rain. Sun. Rain.
Tuesday
Calloway
Creek trail:
Witches
butter on a log.
Happy
dogs in lake.
Wednesday
Wrong
Boots. Wet, wet feet.
Great
Blue Heron; fungi.
Mario’s
Christmas lights.
Thursday
Water
everywhere.
Moss
grows fat in Winter sun.
Quiet Christmas walk.
Friday
Gus
runs in circles.
Snapped
tree tops—incredible.
Sun
glows on fir branches.
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Love about Life
·
I love the sound of the street sweepers at night. It
reminds me of snow plows and evokes Snow Days.
·
I love the way conversation in my room ranges from the
ridiculous to the sublime when kids are engaged in a creative project.
·
I love the silence in the room when they all leave and
the walls begin to speak.
·
I love Winter Break.
·
I love baking English Muffins on Tuesday afternoons
after a long walk in the woods.
·
I love Christmas lights on rainy nights.
·
I love the way the sun breaks through the clouds and
the hills glow in the slanted light.
·
I love the way the bunny runs around the back yard.
·
I love piles of blankets on cold nights.
·
I love the peace of Winter streets and trails after
town has emptied out.
·
I love slow cooked beans in the crockpot.
·
I love the network of people who surround our home,
near and far.
·
I love a pile of books beside the couch.
·
I love our blue teapot full of PG tips.
·
I love dreaming of yarn.
·
I love Kayli sitting on her perch.
·
I love opening a bag of greens from Sunbow when they
are still wet from the rain and smelling their deep green, earthy smell.
·
I love baked potatoes.
·
I love the way everyone in my room loves Wallace and
Gromit.
·
I love seed catalogs and hiking books.
·
I love living in a town where a more complex engineering
problem is embraced, not rejected.
Whole Wheat Anise Cookies, a Winter Break favorite
1 c of margarine (half butter is ok)
¾ cup of white sugar
1 egg
1.5 c of white flour
1.5 cups of whole wheat flour
1.5 t of BP
1 t salt
1T anise seed
Beat sugar and margarine together. Add the egg, then the dry
ingredients. Roll out between two sheets of waxed paper and chill until firm.
The dough may be a bit wet.
Cut into star and moon shapes and bake at 350 degrees until
done. Eat warm. Freeze leftovers for a nice surprise in Febuary.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Chicken Run
Chicken Run away |
Henny,
our scrawny white leghorn, has been escaping from the chicken run for the last
few weeks. It was annoying, especially after we closed all of the obvious
escape routes, but not that big a deal. After all, chickens just want to be
with the flock, so, after a few moments of running around and shouting “Free at
last!” she would wander back to the coop and dig through the garden bed next
door, waiting for the gate to open for her return. When I chased her around the
yard, it was, really, a half-hearted chase on he part. However, when Gladys
followed her out yesterday and found the collard patch, we had a larger
problem. Half the flock was out.
As anyone
who has ever kept backyard chickens knows, the grass is always greener on the
other side of the fence, even if the “grass” is actually the back alley or the
neighbor’s dusty gravel parking area. You can give them free run of the entire
backyard, but then they congregate (and poop) on the back stoop, waiting to
stroll into the Big Coop. That grew old fast. When they are not chatting on the
back step, they are roaming through the garden, digging up the just sprouted
carrots or eating a collard plnat to the ground. They need to be restrained.
Restraining
a chicken is not as easy as it sounds. We learned this a few years into chicken
keeping. Our first two ladies, George and Mrtyle, were full-grown barred Rocks
when they arrived, and they required little restraint. They stayed in the back
yard with a few pieces of chicken wire between them and the Big World. When
Gracie, the Houdini of chickens, arrived, I would come home to find notes on
the front door: “Your chicken was out. We chased her back in.”
Chickens
escape by going over or under the fence. Both have their challenges and
solutions. Over can translate into higher fencing, which can be expensive, or
running a piece of yarn or wire higher up to create a thin barrier—cheaper, but
kind of tacky. For years we banged together a complex fence from pieces of wire
I had found along the roadside, but it was very tacky. I invested in some
decent four-foot high hog fence two summers ago. It is a huge improvement. It is also flexible and coils in amongst the
beds in early spring, giving the ladies access to the compost pile, but not the
young plants. Another solution, which we are working on, is to raise bigger
chickens. Henny is a light and scrawny bird, who still flies easily. The Buff
Orpingtons we brought home last spring are much bigger—and more peaceful—birds.
They will be too big to fly over the fence in the spring. It is always easy to
know when a chicken has escaped over the fence. She announces her landing and,
if you look out quickly, you can see her shaking her feathers down before she
heads for the collard patch.
Under is
more difficult to detect—but easier to solve. We eliminated the majority of
under escapes by building a board fence around the back area. This stopped the
chickens from even seeing the alley and neighbor’s parking lot, so they were no
longer temptations. Now, when we have an under escape, we watch. Mark takes a
book into the back yard as a decoy, sits down, and observes chicken behavior.
Within fifteen minutes, he can find the weak spot, usually where the cats have
pushed through near a fence pole. A brick in the gap, a good tug on the fence,
a few staples to reattach the wire and we’re good. Toss the chicken back into
the run and watch her head right for the gap once more. If she stays in the
run, it is closed.
There is
a certain triumph to outsmarting a chicken, especially if she has been more
clever at hiding her escape hatch than usual. This morning, when I opened the
coop, I stood perfectly still and watched. Within two minutes, I had the
answer. Henny was pushing her way out through a hole in the netting, which was
big enough for her, but not for the larger buffs. When she was three quarters
of the way out, I grabbed her and tossed her back in, then blocked the gap. She
did not come out today. Victory has been declared, at least for now.
Pasta with Broccoli
Start a pot of water to boil.. While waiting, chop two big
stalks of broccoli into small bite sized pieces. Toss a handful of whole wheat spaghetti into the boiling water.
When about two thirds of the way done, add the broccoli.
While this cooks, chop three cloves of garlic and cook in
olive oil. Toss in almonds or walnuts and brown lightly. Also, grate some
Parmesan cheese.
Drain. Mix olive oil, garlic, and nuts in. Top with
cheese.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Willamette Valley Winter
MY Sorrow, when she’s here with me,
|
|
Thinks these dark
days of autumn rain
|
|
Are beautiful as days can be;
|
|
She loves the bare, the
withered tree;
|
|
She walks the
sodden pasture lane.
|
5
|
|
|
Her pleasure will not let me
stay.
|
|
She talks and I am
fain to list:
|
|
She’s glad the birds are gone
away,
|
|
She’s glad her simple worsted
gray
|
|
Is silver now with
clinging mist.
|
10
|
|
|
The desolate, deserted trees,
|
|
The faded earth,
the heavy sky,
|
|
The beauties she so truly sees,
|
|
She thinks I have no eye for
these,
|
|
And vexes me for
reason why.
|
15
|
|
|
Not yesterday I learned to know
|
|
The love of bare
November days
|
|
Before the coming of the snow,
|
|
But it were vain to tell her
so,
|
|
And they are better
for her praise.
|
|
The
other response is to go out and Embrace The Day. We walk the miles of trails
that circle town for hours. Or we will head downtown, where we can stop for
cocoa in the local coffeeshop. No day is so bad that a decent raincoat, a wool
hat, and some cheery waterproof boots
cannot counter it—at least for an hour or so. Days that look dreadful
from the window are often soft and misty once we step outside. Even a dank cold
day can be beautiful, as the water beads up on spider webs and the clouds pass
over and around the pine tree tops. The damp air smells of deep pines and
woodsy mulch. Fifteen minutes after we
step outside, the world is perfect.
Chai:
In a non-reactive pot, combine:
2 cinnamon sticks
4 slices of ginger (fresh or
candied)
10 smashed cardamon seed pods
1 t coriander seed
.5 t peppercorns
.5 t whole cloves
4 c of water
Simmer for about twenty minutes.
Add 2-3 t of tea and boil gently,
then add 1 cup of milk and reheat. Add honey—or not—and drink.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)