Lucy and Ethel

Casa de Pollo

Time to break out the overalls, straw hat, and boots...we're officially farmers!  Nothing beats the taste of farm-fresh eggs so we figured we would give chicken farming a whirl. Here's how to have farm-fresh eggs in 3 easy steps.

1. Housing.

Since we're renting for now we didn't want to build a full-sized chicken coop and came across a pretty neat solution: the chicken tractor.  The chicken tractor is sort of like a hen house on wheels--there is a large, open grazing area (well, open but with chicken wire covering) and a covered nesting box area.  The chicken tractor had some serious benefits over the traditional hen house. 1) The open floor allows the chickens access to fresh grass--so they're semi-free range.  2) The chickens' "business" will help fertilize our lawn as we move it around the yard. 3) When our house sells and we move we only have to pack up the birds and haul away the tractor rather than dismantling an entire coop.  4) Our landlords were impressed that we could think up and build the tractor that they're considering one for their own yard.

Since we had a lot of spare lumber, shingles, and wheels just laying around we only had to purchase the chicken wire, hatch latch and paint: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle!  After looking at some plans online, Joel set about constructing our chicken tractor and thus Casa de Pollo is born....all we needed now were the chickens.

Lucy and Ethel
Lucy (standing near the door-has more red "hair")
Ethel (in the nesting box-a little bald on top)

2. Chickens.

Yeah, just needed the chickens...a somewhat simple task in theory.  In actuality, this step proved harder than building a chicken tractor and teaching the dog that it wasn't his new outdoor playpen.  Chickens apparently don't "do well" if they're by themselves, so we needed at least a pair.  Since it's only the Hubs and myself (and we don't eat eggs and bacon every morning) we certainly couldn't handle more than 2.

First option: purchasing from farm supply store in the Spring.  There's apparently a minimum purchase requirement at most tractor & farm supply stores so seeing as we didn't have the space for 25 chicks, we had to look elsewhere.  Next option: a friend with more chickens than he could shake a stick at.  But, since he had a recent fox-chicken incident the "more chickens than he could shake a stick at" quickly dwindled to 3...all roosters.  Last option: Craigslist.  We found a local lady with all sorts of fowl, goats, and cattle who had 1) no minimum purchase and 2) female layers.  So, long story short-- after 4 months, welcome to "Casa de Pollo" Lucy and Ethel.

3. Eggs.

isn't it cute!?!

Um, I don't really think there's any magical wisdom that I could impart about how to get eggs...we had Lucy and Ethel home for about an hour and we had our first egg.  I guess it would be good to make sure that you have *female* chickens, use a layer formulated feed, and give them a nice cozy, warm area to pop 'em out!

Now...I'm off to find enough recipes that use eggs since we'll be averaging about a dozen a week!

I'm back...and I have gas!

(HA! I knew that title would catch your attention)

 First, I have to apologize for going MIA this summer--I had big plans to start up the Gas Garden again.  I read an article about lazy gardening where instead of using containers, you can plant directly into a bag of soil.  Apparently, the plastic deters weeds, controls moisture, and is less messy than digging in the ground...sounds like my cup of tea!  But, alas, summer plan were quickly placed on the back burner due to, oh I don't know, job interview, packing, cleaning, moving, unpacking, starting new job, and putting house up for sale...you know, the typical stuff.  So, yep, I've started a new job and moved to the mountains baby!  And with that move has come some adjustments.

In addition to pretty much having the majority of our house in storage (until current home sells) and introducing our dog to the local native animals that like to frolic through the front yard (bunnies, deer, and our neighbor's roaming goat), I have had to adjust to cooking with gas.  I've wanted a gas stove since I started canning...mainly for logistical reasons.  See, the canner pot I have is roughly 2 times larger than the size of the burner, thus creating severe discolorations on the stovetop in addition to teetering haphazardly off the edge.  And, heaven help me if there's some food substance or liquid I forget to wipe up before bringing the canner to a roaring boil...that's a caked on mess that even Mr. Clean couldn't get out.  It seems like gas stoves are way cooler for canning--the burner covers sit up higher and it seems like all those chefs of Food Network recommend the ease of gas cooking.  So, after the initial shock and worry about cooking over gas wore off (who hasn't heard of someone's eyelids getting burned off when igniting a gas stove!?) I set to the task of cooking my first meal over gas: chicken-in-rice with steamed vegetables.  It may not sound super complicated or even worthy of Guy Fieri's attention, but one of my favorite meals growing up was chicken-in-rice...basically, you cook the chicken and cut it up, whip up some rice (preferably yellow rice) and mix them together...simple, but somehow super delicious.
Back to present day:

• cook chicken, done.  
• steam vegetables, done.  
• cook rice,  adventure begins.  

Sure cooking on a gas stove has it's conveniences: better temperature control, less preheat time, even heat distribution, can still eat during power outages (and if you grew up in Florida, this one is a biggie).  But, it also has it's disadvantages; namely usage by someone who has never used a gas stove before.
Imagine standing in  a kitchen in front of a gas stove for the first time EVER.  The dials are marked Lite/High/Off.  Yep, that's it.  No Med/MedHi/Low/Warm settings...just basically on, high, and off. You all know the basics of cooking rice (without an official Cuisinart Rice Cooker) right?

It should have gone like this: 
boil water, stir in rice, return to a boil, cover, simmer 20 minutes, fluff with fork.


But what actually happened was this:
lite burner, turn to High, boil water, stir in rice, return to boil, cover, figure out how to simmer with only High setting, notice rice boiling over, lift pot handler so half pot remains on burner, boiling reduces, cover, stand over burner holding half pot on burner 20 minutes, uncover, fluff with fork, explain cooking process to husband while consuming yummy dinner, get laughed at by husband for weird manner of cooking rice, husband explains that dials aren't marked with Med/MedHi/Low settings but simply turn down dial to adjust flame height, ask husband why he didn't feel the need to share information since he grew up with gas stove, watch husband shrug, refrigerate leftovers, make husband clean up dishes.

Yeah, so when all those fancy cooking show hosts tell the audience that you can control the heat better with gas stoves versus electric, they should also show you how to actually adjust the bloomin' heat.

A Little Off The Top

I started this blog with the thought of documenting my experiences with a semi-pioneer living (I say semi-pioneer because I still have some standards: electricity, indoor plumbing, modern medical attention) and how I typically learn my lessons "the hard way." So, I understand that the following post doesn't really fit with this concept. But, then again, it's my blog and I can do what I want!

I have grown to enjoy making things from scratch-I'm not sure why. I certainly didn't grow up doing these types of activities, but it gives me satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment. If given the option of making a pizza or calling Papa John's, I'd grab the flour, salt and tomatoes (no offense P.J.!). Instead of buying a new table, I'd head to Lowe's for a load of lumber (okay, so maybe I wouldn't make the table, but who can resist a trip to Lowe's??). So, it is will hesitance that I profess the deep love and wonderment I now have for our electric hedge trimmer!

Don't get me wrong; we have a pair of manual trimmers (basically giant-sized scissors for the outdoors) and enjoyed the fact that I could maintain my lawn without using electricity or fossil fuels...and, let's face it, manually clipping the hedges builds some mad upper body muscles! But, what was I to do when I couldn't locate the ginormous lawn shears?? Sure, I could have called a friend, my neighbor, or my brother. I could have paid for lawn service. I could have fenced in the property and gotten goats. I could not, however, let the hedges go one more day--this was an emergency hedging scenario! A few hedges were growing over the walkway, others were becoming summer homes for the neighborhood bunnies, and others had even sprouted arms and were nabbing passing children, birds, and small rodents! (Okay, that's an embellishment, but needed to illustrate desperation).

Thankfully, I remembered at some point in our early home ownership years we acquired an electric hedge trimmer. And, amazingly enough, I remembered where our 400,000 foot extension cord was stored (okay, more dramatic embellishment). So, needless to say, 15 minutes and 2 tired, shaky arms later--trimmed hedge bliss!

In conclusion, here are just a few things to keep in mind when using an electric hedge trimmer:

1. it is best to keep the extension cords behind you at all times.
2. if you have a tendency towards trimming hedges into geometric shapes, pick a shape before trimming (not halfway through).
3. Remember not only what geometrical shape you picked, but also what that shape is supposed to look like.
4. don't trim hedges at your own house if you're Type A or have perfectionist tendencies.
5. always know the safety features of the machine (as not knowing them could save you 10-20 minutes of frustration in turning the darned thing on!).

The Mighty Oak...

Okay, well really The Mighty Cherry.

It's Spring here at the ole hacienda. The birds are chirping, the lawnmowers are humming, the flowers are blooming, the trees are pollinating, and the charcoal is charcoaling (or whatever charcoal does). After an unseasonably harsh winter it's a sight for sore, allergy-ridden eyes to glance over the front lawn and see the magic of Mother Nature in the form of new leaves on our trees.

We bought our house (and by "bought" I mean began the 30 year, 5.25% mortgage process) in the Spring of 2005. There wasn't much to the landscape of the yard then, save some boxwood hedges and a few lone saplings scattered around the edge of the porch (most likely the result of the digestive system of the neighborhood Morning Doves and not some genius landscaping design from HGTV). After a few years of forgetting the saplings existed, we were suddenly thrust into making a decision about their pending future when the American Cherry sapling was now taller than the porch railing and closely scaling the chimney. So, In late Spring or early Summer (it's a painfully repressed memory), we realized it was time to uproot and replant the Cherry and Red Maple saplings or suffer an unstable foundation once the root system got more out of control.

Fast forward to now-Spring 2010-I am thoroughly excited that both the Red Maple and American Cherry trees survived:

• our inexperienced/unknowledgable transplanting efforts
• the 5 1/2 month long Alaskan experience known as the "atypical winter for the Triad"
• a severe deficiency of basic gardening, shrubbery, horticultural skills
• and my lack of knowing when enough water was truly enough

I've never really had a green thumb and had come to the grips of reality that is plastic flower arrangements (let's just say that I am most likely the only person to ever kill a Spider Plant). So I am completely, absolutely, exclusively, greatly, collectively, altogether euphoric at the rebirth of our transplanted trees!

Phrases

I'm a transplant North Carolinian; born and raised in Florida, I moved up here for college and could never quite force myself to leave the state (sorry Mom). Since the majority of the state of Florida is comprised of limestone and sand and as our house was surrounded by Oak, Hickory, and Pine trees we didn't really have much grass in the yard. Thus, I never had the opportunity to operate a lawnmower or really do any variation of yard work other than sweeping off the front walkway of pollen pods, hickory nut shells, and leaves. It wasn't until the Spring of 2005 that I found myself behind the mechanical monstrosity that is a lawn mower (a lawnmower is defined as the rotary blade, push type--not the riding mowers because that would weaken the emphasis of this posting). Because I was never properly introduced to lawn mowing, I jumped at the chance to mow our very own lawn! So, donned with my lawn-mowing-rose-colored glasses I made the deal with my husband that I was responsible for mowing, if he would take ownership of weeding, trimming, and edging. Oh, what stupid deals we make when glazed over with the blind excitement of being first-time home buyers.

I know that mowing a yard isn't really unique to "country living," but as I have to learn things the hard way to learn them, I felt it only appropriate. While mowing the lawn maybe part of the basics of home ownership, it is a skill yet to be mastered by me. So, in homage to my husband and testament to my continuing education of lawn care, here are the top15 phrases your husband doesn't want to hear while you're mowing the yard.

1. See, if we fenced in the property and got goats we wouldn't have to mow.
2. Hey! I think something just slithered across my foot.
3. Oh, so that's why I shouldn't mow in flip flops.
4. How can you call those weeds? They have pretty yellow flowers.
5. No, I didn't pick it up; I just mowed over it.
6. Is it supposed to sound like that?
7. I bet they didn't have to mow in the 1500s.
8. You mean we have to mow every weekend??
9. Is it supposed to burn like that?
10. Wait. I'm supposed to mow in a straight line?
11. Did you know yellow jackets make nests in the ground!?!
12. Hey look! The grass comes up to my knees!
13. Huh? I wonder what made that hole.
14. Is it supposed to smell like that?
15. Have you seen the toy Beau was playing with last week? Oh, never mind.
    

"IT'S ALIVE!"...nope, just kidding.

Ferdinand the Fig Tree quietly passed during the Winter of 2009-2010 in his 10 gallon plastic container on the back porch after a short-lived existence of Miracle-Gro and faucet water.

Born somewhere in the local area, date/year unknown, to Pepe and Catarina Fig Tree, Ferdinand was an excellent example of "survival of the fittest" in his battle to withstand long periods of draught (brought on by forgetfulness of homeowners), miscalculations of Miracle-Gro to water ratios, and abandonment on the porch during multiple snow storms. During his short reign as "porch tree extraordinaire," Ferdinand went on to establish resting perches for local Cardinals, Robins, and Morning Doves as well as an intriguing and interesting plaything for Ferdinand's owner's dog. Ferdinand is not survived by anyone as he did not live long enough to sprout seedlings of his own. He will be missed by the two incompetent owners of the estate on which Ferdinand passed.

Funeral services will be held on Thursday, April 22 at homeowner's estate between the hours of 6am and 9am, when the local garbage disposal company passes through. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the National Organization for Better Education of Horticultural Needs to Inexperienced Wanna-Be Farmers.

never say never

At some point in your life you have either said or heard the adage "never say never." When you say it to another, it usually occurs on instinct or an autopilot type of response. And sure, when you hear the phrase it probably goes in one ear and out the other (like telling my brother and I not to play with water guns in the house). Although I've certainly heard this phrase enough to make my ears bleed, it never really meant much to me until the moment I decided to make and can applesauce and apple butter.

I have a somewhat modest kitchen--it's cute and functional and is adequately proportioned for the size of our house. But for a homecanner it's a wee bit cramped. Therefore, counter and pantry space is prime real estate in my house; any device or decoration must then serve an extremely important function, be used often in preparing meals, or risk the Goodwill pile. And, sure I can call myself a pretty good cook-I like to experiment with flavors, foods, and spices. But, I've never really felt the need or use of a food processor before. Why invest in a costly small kitchen appliance that not only has a large counter-space footprint for my square footage, but also an appliance that is really superfluous if you have kitchen knives, a cheese grader/slicer, and some mixing bowls?? No electricity is needed and less parts to have to clean. Not really enjoying the task of washing dishes, I've always opted against purchasing a food processor for the sheer fact that I can more easily wash and store a paring knife than a bulky processor.

For the process of making applesauce and butter I ended up borrowing my neighbor's Cuisinart machine and sure, it made the process quicker and somewhat easier...but while using the appliance against my better judgment (desperately hoping I didn't break anything), I found myself secretly lusting for my own. I'm not adverse to the appliance at all; I just couldn't bring myself to purchase the thing for 2 or 3 uses a year. Also, I think it's neat that our predecessors used the old-fashioned food mill just fine to make their canned goods...but then I realized that they most likely had much more upper-body strength than me.

Oh boy, was I ever wrong! My awesome mom bought me a food processor for Christmas and I must say, I've totally changed my tune--I'm a food processor addict now. How did I *ever* prepare snacks and dinners before without this machine?!? Did you know that you can not only make your own guacamole and salsa in the flick of a switch, but also grate and shred cheese, grind peanut butter or coffee, and slice your own potatoes for baked chips? Oh my gosh!