carpe diem

Ollie helps us to embrace this unacceptable weather

Once our bodies begin to relax into springtime, it's hard to absorb another snowstorm without cringing. Luckily, we have Oliver, who awoke freakishly happy about last night's snow, and requested my help in created a poster with a snake on it. He dictated the text, which invites his brother and sister to play outside in the snow: it says "Read it" at the top. Oliver signed it and taped it up at the end of the hallway so the kids would be certain to see it on their way to breakfast. 

Oliver's sweet poster

We all responded to Ollie's invitiation--it seemed the only way to get through the cold day. We rolled snowballs, wrestled with Daddy, some of us crossed the dubious bridge the kids made with their cousins last weekend, and we all had a lovely time playing with our new sheep, Buddy, whom we brought home yesterday as part of a critter trade. Buddy is the cutest little fellow, black and curly with a white topper and a pink nose. He has really taken to David, who spent a good deal of the day with Buddy following at his heels.

the bridge

Annika's snowball throne

Buddy

A big THANK YOU to Oliver, whose enthusiasm for snow, even at the end of March, made our day a wonderfully memorable one.

oliebollen

delicious pile of oliebollen

Like Mary, who's recent entry in Mein a Musings highlighted ways to celebrate family and ethnic traditions, we have been inspired to savor some delights from our own family's melting pot. Both Calvin and Annika have created family trees for school in the past few weeks--their heritage is mainly Dutch, with a few Michener's, Benjamin's and Mahoney's mixed in to keep it interesting.  Last week, Annika gave a presention on The Netherlands to her social studies class. It was fun to help her gather information on the beautiful country most of my family came from long ago.

  

Annika wanted to bring a traditional Dutch treat to school to share with her classmates as part of her project. Just because she loves to bake anything and everything, she's been reading and studying A Little Dutch Cookbook for months, checked out from the school library and constantly renewed since she discovered it in September. Honestly, I should just buy little honey her own copy.

She decided to make Oliebollen. This is a wonderfully rich Dutch "doughnut", traditionally served on New Year's Eve. Annika made the batter and I handled the frying (or rather, the burning). It took the better part of a Sunday and the entire house smelled like a pot of oil for days, but the results were well worth the effort.

oliebollen frying

amazingly, this little pastry flips itself over when one side is done

totally lost control of this batch

Annika gives the final touch: powdered sugar

baa

Fern -- born Wednesday

All of our 4-legged creatures came to our place outlandishly wild and skittish. Their former home was a huge, beautiful pasture with rolling hills and a nice forest. Their humans provided food and care but the animals pretty much ran their own lives. Here, their pasture is much smaller and the people desperately want to pet them.

In the 9 months since the wild, jumpy Barbados sheep and Pygmy goats arrived at our house, I have tried various strategies in an attempt to tame the beasts. Singing yodeling songs, bringing treats, sitting quietly amongst them like Jane Goodall: didn't work. When baby goats were born in December and again in February, they stayed with their mothers for food, but I spent oodles of time holding them and playing with them each day in hopes that once they were grown, we could get close to them, handle them and give them medical care when they need it. These efforts have also failed. The babies quickly learn from their mothers to be wary and skittish, desperately fleeing when the "scary lady" approaches with her outstretched hand.

A few dark mornings ago, I strapped on my head flashlight and headed into the dark morning to do a.m. chores. As I opened the pasture gate, four tiny eyes reflected back at me -- our first baby lambs. They were just born, still wet. I moved them with their mom into the safety and warmth of the pen away from the pesky goats.

in the house:

Gigi (my mom) feeding the lambs

On Saturday, we brought the two little lambs to live in our mudroom for a couple weeks, to feed them by hand and snuggle with them in the hopes that they will tame up. I have no idea if this will work. It feels a little insane.

weightlifting

this little toughie is way stronger than he looks

photo by Annika

This weekend, we brought one of our little boy goats, 3-month-old Donder, to his new home, where he will have the opportunity to become a daddy. He is a pretty little buck with an ethereal halo of fluffy fur around his face. Donder hates being on a leash, he twists and jumps and spins and somersaults, trying to get away.  To get this wild little 40-pounder into the van, I finally had to carry him all the way up from the pasture. My arms are still sore. 

the long, heavy carry

photo by Annika

The first ride of his life went well, and he seems quite happy in his new home, with his new people and his new goat family. It will be fun to visit him in a year or so to see how his life turns out.

 

photo by me

daylight savings kicking my butt

Rembrandt: A Woman Sleeping

(looks familiar)

Whether we fall back or spring forward, it takes me a disturbingly long time to adjust to any change of time. This week, getting out of that soft, warm, cozy bed to face the cold, black morning is harder than ever. I am just sleepy.

On Wednesday morning, I went for a dental cleaning and exam. The nice hygienist had a routine where she'd perform a painful procedure in my mouth and then turn away for a second or two to take notes, and then return to poke or scrape once again. I was doing my "childbirth relaxation breathing" to cope. Apparently this relaxation technique combined with daylight savings worked wonders. At one point the hygienist nudged me, "Are you asleep?"

Yes, I was actually asleep. Hopefully not snoring or drooling, though we can't be too sure. I guess I'll take a nap anywhere I can get it.

Happy to report, healthy gums and no cavities.

a day's work

a little helper testing the syrup & waffles

in abundant sunshine

It's fits and starts for our maple syrup project this year. Right now everything's frozen up. Free-flowing sap requires nights with temps below freezing and sunny days a little above the freeze mark. There appears to be some of this optimum weather coming up for the weekend and into next week.

But so far, we've had only one of those good days. And on that gorgeous day, Monday, Oliver's pre-school came out for a field trip. Mom and Dad were excellent teachers, the kids and their parents had a great time in the sun on a beautiful day, collecting sap and sampling the syrup. 

eesh, the chill

Yesterday was nasty weather, cold and wet. Dad sat outside in the junk--with a few breaks to warm up in his truck--boiling sap all day. When it's nearly finished cooking, I bring it into the house to finish it on the stove. In every stage of this little operation, we have to pay rapt attention. In a flash, the sap can boil over or the nearly ready syrup suddenly turns to black tar. We have already burned up two big pots this year. 

Shockingly, it takes 4-5 gallons of sap to make 1 tiny little cup of syrup. With that in mind, for yesterday's full day of cooking we now have 5 precious 8-ounce jars of pure maple syrup, literally, liquid gold. 

waterworks

my talented niece, 

with flowers after a 2003 performance

This afternoon, the kids, my mom and I went to see a local junior production of the musical Honk, a re-telling of the ugly duckling story. A friend of Cal's from school was performing, so we went to check out the show. It was entirely enjoyable, a just-right way to spend this rainy/snowy Sunday.

As happens to me every time I see kids doing something great with their talents, once the stagelights go up and those wonderful little people are there in front of me, I begin to unsuccessfully fight back the tears. The first time this happened was a number of years ago, when my niece, Lulu, was dancing the part of an angel in The Nutcracker. I was so proud of her, up on that giant stage with her dimpled smile and her graceful little self, dancing before an audience of hundreds. Since then, every single kid endeavor has me digging in my purse for the tissue. If it's one of my own kids, the sobs can be nearly audible. Today was no different. The show starts, I feel deeply proud of all the super kids, the struggle begins.

Lately, even adults doing cool things can make me tear up, especially those darn live performances. From soup to nuts, it is an amazing thing to be a human being. 

backyard sugar

first step

We have officially begun this year's maple syrup operation. I am very lucky that my dad does most of the real work. I pretty much stand by and try to look cool. Sap is flowing freely and we are excited! Here are some photos from previous years.

the tap

boiling

liquid gold

sorta sortin'

lavender sugar scrub

It has been 11 days and I am still cleaning out the pantry/office. I have sorted through batteries and cords, photos, kids artwork, bills, piles of cards and receipts, determined that each item requiring attention will receive it as part of this incredibly painful process. Some work has been done daily, some days more than others. 

One of the things I "cleaned out" was a box of supplies required to make the essential oil sugar scrub that I so love to use in the shower (it makes a great gift, too). There were a few extra jars and enough ingredients to make a short stack of this luxurious homemade spa treatment. I was justifiably mocked by my husband, who sensed my waning enthusiasm for sorting when I proclaimed that making this stuff was a required part of the organization job. 

the recipe:

raw sugar

safflower oil

a few drops of essential oil

I used 4-ounce plastic jars for these, a perfect size for little treats. 

egghead

first egg:  baby picture

 November, 2005

A few years ago, friends Leiken and Dylan, two wonderful kids who are now big kids, were involved in 4-H poultry. They asked if we would keep their chickens here since they lived in a town unfriendly to backyard poultry. These chickens were teenagers, not quite ready to lay. And there were roosters, too. Goldie, Claus, Chuckie, Mabel, Sammy, each bird had a name and a distinct personality. 

first egg in santa hat

On the day of our first egg, I was ecstatic. I photographed the egg plain and in costume and e-mailed the pictures to several relatives, most of whom had lived on farms as children. One aunt's e-mailed reply suggested with good humor that if one little egg sent me into such a tizzy, perhaps I had too much time on my hands. The memory still makes me chuckle.

Now I can't imagine life without chickens, and without the wonderful eggs. Fresh eggs over medium are my favorite. The yolk is a deep, intense orange-gold, rich and creamy; the whites bright and fluffy. I crave poached eggs, though I don't make them often. With good weather, the chickens roam the pasture eating whatever they find out there, producing eggs so delicious they'll knock you over. Each day when I collect our eggs, I still wonder at their perfect beauty. The smooth, strong oval, the beautiful colors of the shells, each one unique. I love the walk back to the house from the coop in the early morning, with a few just-laid eggs in my pocket, still warm from the hen, on their way to the frying pan.

milk moustache

Wow, we had an excellent, fun weekend. One highlight was taking the kids to get raw (unpasteurized, unhomogenized) organic milk at a nearby farm. Calvin got to pour the milk right from the tank into our jug. We stopped at my parents' house on the way home to share some with my dad. We had to use the fancy glasses. It is absolutely delicious, with layers of flavor and goodness, like a warm, cozy memory. As a kid, I drank raw on those special days spent at my grandparents' dairy farm. Mom and Dad grew up on it. 

At our milk-insane house, we go through around 6 to 7 gallons a week. This includes 2 -3 gallons of regular milk for Cal, 3 gallons of lactose-free milk for Annika and David and another 2 of rice milk and soy milk for Oliver. I drink whatever's closest to my pouring hand.

Hoping to eradicate Oliver's asthma, we took  him totally off dairy a couple of months ago. He also started taking a daily dose of fish oil as well as a homeopathic remedy. We have seen an amazing improvement in his asthma. He is still on medication, but we have been able to reduce the medicine by more than half.

But, too much soy milk is not great for people and we also need our calcium. So Oliver is now slowly adding some dairy back into his diet--that's the main reason I wanted to try the raw milk. The word about town is that raw milk has all the wonderful bacteria our stomachs love (as long as you're not allergic to it), and it may be good for certain folks with asthma and certain others with lactose intolerance, so we're giving it a try. Amazingly, David and Annika have reported none of their lactose-intolerant symptoms. Time will tell the tale.