Tracy posting a comment reminded me of what else I was doing last week amidst the woodstove, woodcutting and deer killing. I completely forgot that a major milestone was reached in that I was enabled to resume a productive pastime that I started in Phoenix. This activity was begun as a way of escaping in some small way from noxious industrial food. I'm still new and have a lot to learn about this type of food production, but I get encouragement in buckets and barrels. You see, I spent about four hours brewing up a batch of Agrarian Beer. Agrarian beer is so much superior to industrial beer that it makes a good argument for rejecting industrialisms offerings in the other four food groups as well.
No one is here to stop me from typing so I'm going to go on. You can see things floating sometimes in Agrarian Beer. Sometimes you need a fork or a spoon to get all the nutrients out. With industrial beer there are no nutrients, or calories. It is less filling and tastes like city water. Agrarian beer is very high in vitamin B. Doctors say beer is good for you, in the proper dosage, and the Bible agrees with them for a change. In addition to this, it is a known fact that nothing harmful to the human body can live in beer. Just think, if Industrial, Weak & Timid beer is good for you, how much better is Agrarian Thick & Chunky?
So this is my encouragement to all who, like me, are aspiring to a more agrarian life, less dependant upon corporate food. For much less than a hundred bucks you can begin to produce high quality, homemade, nutritious, pesticide free, wonderful beer.
(And for those of you wondering. . . No I have not had any today. I'm out until this batch is done, and patience is another fruit of the brewing enterprise)
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Monday, November 21, 2005
Work Matters
We had a busy week last week that ran over into this week. I'd been worried about the chimney on the old house, but after making a closer inspection in the attic and on the roof, I found that the chimney was actually in great shape. It already had a connection for a six inch stovepipe, so installing the stove was just a matter of fitting the elbows and pipe sections together. This work was made better by Natalie offering up some really good cookies while I worked.
I hadn't worried too much about firewood because there is is a huge deadfall oak about 60 yards from the back door, and another one just a bit further down. Most of the wood we'll need this winter is in those two trees. We've got next years wood in two oaks in the front yard that are standing dead and dropping some limbs. Nice firewood just falls out of the trees here. In Flagstaff we had to work pretty hard and drive well into the forest to cut our five cords a year, and we only rarely stumbled upon dead oak. So it is a real blessing to find all we need right at our doorstep.
Our 12 year old got to swing the axe to try his hand at splitting. He did well and by the time we get all our wood up he should be up to speed.
Friday afternoon I took a lawn chair, some reading, and a rifle and sat out under the deadfall that we are cutting on. I didn't know if it was reasonable to expect to see a deer on our narrow strip of land, but God is good to us, and sure enough at sundown a fat doe walked out in front of me. Today Sue and I tried to remember what we'd forgotten about how to butcher a deer. We struggled a bit, but the deer is in the freezer.
These are two small things in the big picture of what we are doing here, but the connections are easy enough for kids to make. We get to sit in front of a warm crackling fire because God is good to us. How is he good? He grew an oak tree over many years, killed it and blew it over, and gave us bodies with bones and muscles with which to cut, split and stack the wood. Do we get to eat tasty deer? God is good to us, he fattens a deer for us and sends it by just as the good reading light has faded. Do we have to work to enjoy these things? Yes, but the work that we do is nothing compared to the work that God does.
I hadn't worried too much about firewood because there is is a huge deadfall oak about 60 yards from the back door, and another one just a bit further down. Most of the wood we'll need this winter is in those two trees. We've got next years wood in two oaks in the front yard that are standing dead and dropping some limbs. Nice firewood just falls out of the trees here. In Flagstaff we had to work pretty hard and drive well into the forest to cut our five cords a year, and we only rarely stumbled upon dead oak. So it is a real blessing to find all we need right at our doorstep.
Our 12 year old got to swing the axe to try his hand at splitting. He did well and by the time we get all our wood up he should be up to speed.
Friday afternoon I took a lawn chair, some reading, and a rifle and sat out under the deadfall that we are cutting on. I didn't know if it was reasonable to expect to see a deer on our narrow strip of land, but God is good to us, and sure enough at sundown a fat doe walked out in front of me. Today Sue and I tried to remember what we'd forgotten about how to butcher a deer. We struggled a bit, but the deer is in the freezer.
These are two small things in the big picture of what we are doing here, but the connections are easy enough for kids to make. We get to sit in front of a warm crackling fire because God is good to us. How is he good? He grew an oak tree over many years, killed it and blew it over, and gave us bodies with bones and muscles with which to cut, split and stack the wood. Do we get to eat tasty deer? God is good to us, he fattens a deer for us and sends it by just as the good reading light has faded. Do we have to work to enjoy these things? Yes, but the work that we do is nothing compared to the work that God does.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Peace & Quiet
The problem with our cities is that they are places of rebellion, almost top to bottom. You can tell this because they are noisy and they never rest. Of, course this is the sin that cities are prone to, without God. With God they can become what they ought to be.
Cities are susceptible to tyrants to a greater extent than the rural areas. There was quiet in the city because there was peace and there was peace because there was justice. Justice sometimes requires violence.
Quiet is not always good, and noise is not always bad. But this post-Athalian quiet is definitely a good quiet and one that can't be experienced in a modern, rebellious city. The Athaliah's in our cities are doing just fine, thank-you. There is no quiet in them, no rest or pause. Murders are done every day. The merchants never rest, because the Blue Laws have been overturned. The shoppers never rest, because they wouldn't want the quiet anyway. They might accidently examine their lives if things got quiet for a minute, much less a whole day.
This morning I went for a walk on the fence line. I like to take this walk in the morning with the sun at my back. The pond came up from yesterdays rain. The creek is bubbling along just fine. I can see a lot farther now, with the leaves off of the trees. That's good, because for the next few weeks I get to take my rifle. It would be a shame to pass up a deer because I left the gun at home. Things are back to looking normal at the back corner where the neighbors bull got the worst of it from the big Angus fella staying on our place. The electric fence did not deter them, once they'd finished talking over their differences. Angus had to go somewhere else after that.
I've got to go the the circus later today. I work for one of those unresting corporate entities whose job it is to shove things under your nose and say buy, buy, you really need this. I've had a bit of a struggle getting them to agree that they ought to give me the Lord's Day off, so I can worship God and rest on the day he has set aside. They are going to do this, but only because they worry that I might cause them trouble if they don't allow me to practice my wierd religious beliefs. That'll work for now, and I'm thankful that I'm going to be worshipping with our congregation weekly, and not having to run out early either.
For the moment, it's still quiet.
. . .the city was quiet, for they had slain Athaliah
Cities are susceptible to tyrants to a greater extent than the rural areas. There was quiet in the city because there was peace and there was peace because there was justice. Justice sometimes requires violence.
Quiet is not always good, and noise is not always bad. But this post-Athalian quiet is definitely a good quiet and one that can't be experienced in a modern, rebellious city. The Athaliah's in our cities are doing just fine, thank-you. There is no quiet in them, no rest or pause. Murders are done every day. The merchants never rest, because the Blue Laws have been overturned. The shoppers never rest, because they wouldn't want the quiet anyway. They might accidently examine their lives if things got quiet for a minute, much less a whole day.
This morning I went for a walk on the fence line. I like to take this walk in the morning with the sun at my back. The pond came up from yesterdays rain. The creek is bubbling along just fine. I can see a lot farther now, with the leaves off of the trees. That's good, because for the next few weeks I get to take my rifle. It would be a shame to pass up a deer because I left the gun at home. Things are back to looking normal at the back corner where the neighbors bull got the worst of it from the big Angus fella staying on our place. The electric fence did not deter them, once they'd finished talking over their differences. Angus had to go somewhere else after that.
I've got to go the the circus later today. I work for one of those unresting corporate entities whose job it is to shove things under your nose and say buy, buy, you really need this. I've had a bit of a struggle getting them to agree that they ought to give me the Lord's Day off, so I can worship God and rest on the day he has set aside. They are going to do this, but only because they worry that I might cause them trouble if they don't allow me to practice my wierd religious beliefs. That'll work for now, and I'm thankful that I'm going to be worshipping with our congregation weekly, and not having to run out early either.
For the moment, it's still quiet.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Wandering III, or, A Long Ramble
Now that our mission was validated by RV art, we dropped off the dog and cat. I am always amazed by how good of friends we’ve been blessed with, in this case the Millers who volunteered to take our animals, Oreo (aka, psycho-cat), and Polly, our geriatric mutt.
Our first destination was El Paso, Texas, to visit my folks for a week. I thought they needed to look me in the eye and see that it was really me and that I was still mostly sane. We just didn't want to pursue our adventure without honoring mother and father. We left Phoenix on November 2, and docked in the driveway at Oma & Papa’s the next evening. My dad had trimmed the mulberry so the trailer would fit.
I'd never had any desire to move back home to El Paso, but I found myself looking at listings on the internet anyway.
We were visiting a new church this trip, Christ the King Presbyterian, which I had been surprised to find in the phone listings. We knew we wanted a solid reformed church wherever we were going to move. At church the reverence of the worship was beautiful to see, and we were warmly welcomed. Driving back home after worship, I concluded that at least one objection to the El Paso area was gone. I found this confusing.
I knew that our goal was not simply the right church. We could have stayed in Phoenix had that been the issue. I had done some homework and continued to do a lot more on the road, and knew that reformed churches were popping up everywhere. Our own little denomination, the CREC, was no exception. Anyway, I continued to look into El Paso's outlying areas, but when the land searches came up empty, my confusion receded. We'd never wanted to trade one city for another.
We wanted to live a more agrarian life but we were not sure what that would look like. I'm still working on it, but my loose definition of an agrarian is someone who is self-consciously connected to God's creation in a responsible way. This includes and excludes more people than some will be comfortable with. This responsible connection will be harder or easier depending on where you live and what kind of work you do.
It is harder to see in the city, but not at all impossible. Sometimes driving on the freeway, you get a moment when you can see the beauty of the mountains in the distance. Sometimes you can take some time and drive out to them. But it’s too soon time to get your eyes back on the road or your nose back to the grindstone, usually in a building with no windows and flourescent lighting. I want to see the world God made, and not just on the weekend.
The main reason for our move to the country is just that. We are trying to see in a way that had become nearly impossible, at least for us, in the city. We were spoiled by years spent working and living at the Grand Canyon, where Sue and I met, and later years in the shadow of the San Francisco Peaks north of Flagstaff. I have to confess that we took this splendor for granted, and missed it more than we thought we would.
Not that seeing is all about the view. We want to touch and taste as well. I want the kids to learn to sweat at their work, not just at sports. I want there to be lots of work, work which is obviously related to life and the food which really is far more abundant than our efforts have any right to make it. I wanted to be more independant of Wal-Mart and the mall, live more simply and reduce our dependance on cash, which I had to trade valuable time for. This would entail growing and raising as much of our food as we could.
I desire that we be moved by the glory of God and the enjoyment of Him and His good creation, rather than by fears of what may or may not happen in the future. I think we will see Him better through our efforts to steward that creation, as we watch Him send rain or drought, fatness or leanness. I keep the hope that He eventually will free us from debt and servitude, and that He has good plans for us and all His creation.
We had started our adventure by going to see my folks, and they had in a sense brought it to a close with their visit to us. I watched my dad walk this land with his grandchildren, and listened to him recall dormant memories of farm life, knowing that he was enjoying himself. My mother also recalled many scenes from her youth, particularly the girls school on a farm in Poland where she was hidden during most of WWII. I would suppose even the harshness of those days was mitigated by being around beauty and animals.
Maybe someday I will walk on this land with my grandchildren as well. It does seem possible now, and I pray God will bless me in that way.
After eleven days at my parents house, and with eyes wet, we pulled out of the driveway for the eastern leg of our trip. We had a lot of good places we wanted to see.
Our first destination was El Paso, Texas, to visit my folks for a week. I thought they needed to look me in the eye and see that it was really me and that I was still mostly sane. We just didn't want to pursue our adventure without honoring mother and father. We left Phoenix on November 2, and docked in the driveway at Oma & Papa’s the next evening. My dad had trimmed the mulberry so the trailer would fit.
I'd never had any desire to move back home to El Paso, but I found myself looking at listings on the internet anyway.
We were visiting a new church this trip, Christ the King Presbyterian, which I had been surprised to find in the phone listings. We knew we wanted a solid reformed church wherever we were going to move. At church the reverence of the worship was beautiful to see, and we were warmly welcomed. Driving back home after worship, I concluded that at least one objection to the El Paso area was gone. I found this confusing.
I knew that our goal was not simply the right church. We could have stayed in Phoenix had that been the issue. I had done some homework and continued to do a lot more on the road, and knew that reformed churches were popping up everywhere. Our own little denomination, the CREC, was no exception. Anyway, I continued to look into El Paso's outlying areas, but when the land searches came up empty, my confusion receded. We'd never wanted to trade one city for another.
We wanted to live a more agrarian life but we were not sure what that would look like. I'm still working on it, but my loose definition of an agrarian is someone who is self-consciously connected to God's creation in a responsible way. This includes and excludes more people than some will be comfortable with. This responsible connection will be harder or easier depending on where you live and what kind of work you do.
"Being face to face with God’s handiwork humbles not only by terror but by beauty. In the country you don’t have thirty stories of concrete blocking His beauty" - Angels in the Architecture
It is harder to see in the city, but not at all impossible. Sometimes driving on the freeway, you get a moment when you can see the beauty of the mountains in the distance. Sometimes you can take some time and drive out to them. But it’s too soon time to get your eyes back on the road or your nose back to the grindstone, usually in a building with no windows and flourescent lighting. I want to see the world God made, and not just on the weekend.
The main reason for our move to the country is just that. We are trying to see in a way that had become nearly impossible, at least for us, in the city. We were spoiled by years spent working and living at the Grand Canyon, where Sue and I met, and later years in the shadow of the San Francisco Peaks north of Flagstaff. I have to confess that we took this splendor for granted, and missed it more than we thought we would.
Not that seeing is all about the view. We want to touch and taste as well. I want the kids to learn to sweat at their work, not just at sports. I want there to be lots of work, work which is obviously related to life and the food which really is far more abundant than our efforts have any right to make it. I wanted to be more independant of Wal-Mart and the mall, live more simply and reduce our dependance on cash, which I had to trade valuable time for. This would entail growing and raising as much of our food as we could.
I desire that we be moved by the glory of God and the enjoyment of Him and His good creation, rather than by fears of what may or may not happen in the future. I think we will see Him better through our efforts to steward that creation, as we watch Him send rain or drought, fatness or leanness. I keep the hope that He eventually will free us from debt and servitude, and that He has good plans for us and all His creation.
We had started our adventure by going to see my folks, and they had in a sense brought it to a close with their visit to us. I watched my dad walk this land with his grandchildren, and listened to him recall dormant memories of farm life, knowing that he was enjoying himself. My mother also recalled many scenes from her youth, particularly the girls school on a farm in Poland where she was hidden during most of WWII. I would suppose even the harshness of those days was mitigated by being around beauty and animals.
Maybe someday I will walk on this land with my grandchildren as well. It does seem possible now, and I pray God will bless me in that way.
After eleven days at my parents house, and with eyes wet, we pulled out of the driveway for the eastern leg of our trip. We had a lot of good places we wanted to see.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Deliberate Wandering, Part II
[One of the problems with writing like this is that the chronology gets all messed up. I'm going to take the liberty a blog allows of correcting this on the run, so the earlier posts will be changed as my recollections sharpen.]
The RV sales guy spent at least an hour making sure the trailer was prepped and hitched properly and that I was trained on how to run the A/C, heat, water pump, fridge, water heater and TV antenna. Oddly, he said very little about dumping the holding tanks, except to show me where the valves were.
So we loaded up and hauled our new home out to White Tanks Park for the "shakedown run," an idea suggested in his unique way by my good buddy Kurt, a very practical man. White Tanks Park is only about a half hour west of Phoenix and we stayed there a few nights as we tested the equipment. On Saturday, the church was to hold it's annual Fall Fest, an event we would not want to miss.
We knew we wanted a place with some land, but the contours were pretty fuzzy. I had the idea that when I saw the place I would know it. I'm not normally given to this kind of thinking. In fact I like to think that I make my decisions unemotionally, not being susceptible to realtors gushing about "Dream Homes." From the start we had set the goal of getting to our last place on earth, Lord willing, a place we wouldn't leave except by the inevitable means.
But to get there we were going on an adventure we would not have imagined just a year before. With a Recreational Vehicle. We were going to use the ultimate symbol of the transient society to end our transience. This is what comes of reading too many Wendell Berry books in an atmosphere high in carbon monoxide. You think you can get in a car in Phoenix and drive to Port William. You think you can end your Unsettled Americanism with Internal Combustion. Be careful, folks.
The RV sales guy spent at least an hour making sure the trailer was prepped and hitched properly and that I was trained on how to run the A/C, heat, water pump, fridge, water heater and TV antenna. Oddly, he said very little about dumping the holding tanks, except to show me where the valves were.
So we loaded up and hauled our new home out to White Tanks Park for the "shakedown run," an idea suggested in his unique way by my good buddy Kurt, a very practical man. White Tanks Park is only about a half hour west of Phoenix and we stayed there a few nights as we tested the equipment. On Saturday, the church was to hold it's annual Fall Fest, an event we would not want to miss.
We knew we wanted a place with some land, but the contours were pretty fuzzy. I had the idea that when I saw the place I would know it. I'm not normally given to this kind of thinking. In fact I like to think that I make my decisions unemotionally, not being susceptible to realtors gushing about "Dream Homes." From the start we had set the goal of getting to our last place on earth, Lord willing, a place we wouldn't leave except by the inevitable means.
But to get there we were going on an adventure we would not have imagined just a year before. With a Recreational Vehicle. We were going to use the ultimate symbol of the transient society to end our transience. This is what comes of reading too many Wendell Berry books in an atmosphere high in carbon monoxide. You think you can get in a car in Phoenix and drive to Port William. You think you can end your Unsettled Americanism with Internal Combustion. Be careful, folks.
We arrived at the campground at White Tanks early in the day. Too early in the year for the Snow Birds, we had only a few neighbors. I performed the drill outlined by the RV lot guy and had the trailer sitting level and pretty in its little slot. I stepped back to admire. I looked now at the little tacky decals on the trailer, probably the work of marketing guys in Indiana, the source of most RV's. There were some wavy lines to represent hills, a round ball for the sun setting behind them. A windmill next to a little house and a barn. The word "Homestead" in big letters over slightly smaller ones spelling "Settler."
Sue is not sure she wants me to sell that thing, though honestly we can't say what we'd ever need it for. Maybe I can peel those decals off and stick them on the barn.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Deliberate Wandering
It's been about a year since we left Phoenix. We stood at the front of our church, in front of some of our very best friends, as the elders asked God's blessing on us, and I said some very inadequate things about what the church had meant to our family.
Earlier in the week I had made a trip to the RV dealer and hitched up our new travel trailer. I had spent the previous weeks driving all over Phoenix, Mesa, Sun City, etc. searching for a travel trailer that would sleep and feed our crew comfortably, but would still be towable by the half ton Suburban. I was getting blurry eyed and all RV's were blending into one.
When I went back onto the Starcraft lot, the young sales guy recognized me (but, not I him) and showed me the same unit he was sure I had looked at two weeks before. He seemed to remember the whole deal about six kids, bunks, must have oven, etc. He told me he knew I'd be back for that unit, which unit, I have to admit, I did not remember at all.
But I looked it over and it had what we needed. Two sets of bunks in the nose, oven/range per wife's specs, table that we all could sit around (if some used the couch which faced the table), queen bed rear slideout, and just barely lightweight enough to tow. This travel trailer was going to be home for as long as six months, according to The Plan. I did not pay much attention to the exterior, the little logos, and the silly name all these things have.
The Plan had grown out of the desire, sometimes festering and unhealthy, to escape the confines of the city. No offense to Phoenix itself, if you want to live in a city, I recommend it as long as you can stand a little heat. But we hadn't moved there intending to stay, and we had delayed leaving because we wanted to test our desire and leave in the right frame of mind. But in the process of delaying, we had lost a clear idea of where it was that we wanted to go.
Phoenix was supposed to be a short stop on our way to Moscow, Idaho. We would stay a year or two, until the adoption of Joshua was complete and then head for Geneva on the Palouse. In our five years in Phoenix The Daughter and I made the usual annual trek to Idaho for the history conference, so I got to see all the things that were going on up there. It was clear that Christ Church had become a really big church by our standards. While that did not work in their favor it can't explain totally the fact that we just didn't have the certainty any more that that was where we were supposed to be.
I made a trip to Bristol in the spring of 2004 that didn't bring much clarity either. I don't think I was ever more confused in my life. As Sue and I talked and prayed about this apparent contradiction, that we ought to leave Phoenix, but that we didn't know where to go, we got the idea that maybe we could go visit a bunch of places and see them for ourselves.
Oh, yeah, we had also adopted four more boys while we were in Phoenix.
If you have adopted kids, you know what a blessing this is to a parent. If some of your those kids are a little older when you adopt them, you might also, like us, wonder about the years you missed. Our new guys were 8, 6, 5 and 4 years old and we figured we'd missed over 20 years with our four new additions. Well, why not take some time between jobs, travel all over the country visiting the most likely places for our future home, and have a wonderful opportunity to solidify our relationships with our adopted children?
Well, why not?
to be continued. . .
Earlier in the week I had made a trip to the RV dealer and hitched up our new travel trailer. I had spent the previous weeks driving all over Phoenix, Mesa, Sun City, etc. searching for a travel trailer that would sleep and feed our crew comfortably, but would still be towable by the half ton Suburban. I was getting blurry eyed and all RV's were blending into one.
When I went back onto the Starcraft lot, the young sales guy recognized me (but, not I him) and showed me the same unit he was sure I had looked at two weeks before. He seemed to remember the whole deal about six kids, bunks, must have oven, etc. He told me he knew I'd be back for that unit, which unit, I have to admit, I did not remember at all.
But I looked it over and it had what we needed. Two sets of bunks in the nose, oven/range per wife's specs, table that we all could sit around (if some used the couch which faced the table), queen bed rear slideout, and just barely lightweight enough to tow. This travel trailer was going to be home for as long as six months, according to The Plan. I did not pay much attention to the exterior, the little logos, and the silly name all these things have.
The Plan had grown out of the desire, sometimes festering and unhealthy, to escape the confines of the city. No offense to Phoenix itself, if you want to live in a city, I recommend it as long as you can stand a little heat. But we hadn't moved there intending to stay, and we had delayed leaving because we wanted to test our desire and leave in the right frame of mind. But in the process of delaying, we had lost a clear idea of where it was that we wanted to go.
Phoenix was supposed to be a short stop on our way to Moscow, Idaho. We would stay a year or two, until the adoption of Joshua was complete and then head for Geneva on the Palouse. In our five years in Phoenix The Daughter and I made the usual annual trek to Idaho for the history conference, so I got to see all the things that were going on up there. It was clear that Christ Church had become a really big church by our standards. While that did not work in their favor it can't explain totally the fact that we just didn't have the certainty any more that that was where we were supposed to be.
I made a trip to Bristol in the spring of 2004 that didn't bring much clarity either. I don't think I was ever more confused in my life. As Sue and I talked and prayed about this apparent contradiction, that we ought to leave Phoenix, but that we didn't know where to go, we got the idea that maybe we could go visit a bunch of places and see them for ourselves.
Oh, yeah, we had also adopted four more boys while we were in Phoenix.
If you have adopted kids, you know what a blessing this is to a parent. If some of your those kids are a little older when you adopt them, you might also, like us, wonder about the years you missed. Our new guys were 8, 6, 5 and 4 years old and we figured we'd missed over 20 years with our four new additions. Well, why not take some time between jobs, travel all over the country visiting the most likely places for our future home, and have a wonderful opportunity to solidify our relationships with our adopted children?
Well, why not?
to be continued. . .
Monday, November 07, 2005
Chickens
Natalie went to help with chicken day at the Bechard Family Farm today. I showed up late, after the serious work was done, but in time for bagging and packing the birds on ice as customers began to arrive to pick up their orders. The Bechards had quite an operation with a rotating cone holder, stainless, gas fired scalder, big rotating chicken plucker, etc. They also had an enthusiastic crew of helpers for the full days work.
We got talking about the difference between what Bechards do (and do very well), and what I want to do with chickens. I want barnyard chickens, that will not miss a few eggs, that will self-propagate, and that will occasionally be used for meat. Someone suggested that the propagation part was the hardest and recommended I ask Teddi Bechard about breeds that might work well for this. So, it would seem I'll have to look for a breed of chicken that is more "broody" as Teddi advised me. She suggested Buff Orpingtons or Bantams.
Not that I'm giving up on our current flock. They are still scratching for the vast majority of their food, aided by a warm fall. When they can't find enough food on their own we'll freeze half of them and feed the other half through the winter. In the spring I figure on ordering some chicks to build the flock back up, introduce some Buffs and hopefully a Buff rooster, and see if we can't begin to observe the complete life-cycle of Gallus gallus. Our short term goal is not lofty. We just want to see little chicks following momma hen around the barnyard.
We got talking about the difference between what Bechards do (and do very well), and what I want to do with chickens. I want barnyard chickens, that will not miss a few eggs, that will self-propagate, and that will occasionally be used for meat. Someone suggested that the propagation part was the hardest and recommended I ask Teddi Bechard about breeds that might work well for this. So, it would seem I'll have to look for a breed of chicken that is more "broody" as Teddi advised me. She suggested Buff Orpingtons or Bantams.
Not that I'm giving up on our current flock. They are still scratching for the vast majority of their food, aided by a warm fall. When they can't find enough food on their own we'll freeze half of them and feed the other half through the winter. In the spring I figure on ordering some chicks to build the flock back up, introduce some Buffs and hopefully a Buff rooster, and see if we can't begin to observe the complete life-cycle of Gallus gallus. Our short term goal is not lofty. We just want to see little chicks following momma hen around the barnyard.
Oma & Papa
Well my folks are back in El Paso after spending about a week with us here in our new home. My Dad spent some of his boyhood years south of here in Arkansas and he is knowledgeable about a lot of the trees and plants that are growing here. He also has some memories of farm life as he knew it in the 1940's.
The kids all enjoyed the time spent with Oma and Papa, as they prefer to be called. While I went to work during the day, Papa kept the work crew busy gathering leaves and manure and built a huge compost pile. He attacked with a vengeance the cedar saplings that are popping up everywhere. He led the boys on an expedition to collect persimmons which Sue later made into some great persimmon bread.
After checking out the 3 peach trees that are on the place he advised me that they had pretty well had it. Some sort of boring insect has nearly killed them. The good news is that the apple tree is very healthy, and I got some pointers on how to prune it. I pre-ordered 4 more apple trees for spring planting.
We got to hear Army Stories, of which there is an endless supply. Even now after listening to my Dad for all these years, I was still hearing new ones.
We were a little nervous with my folks coming out for this visit. We wondered, I think, if they might think we were a little whacked to give up the comfortable city life for the obvious difficulties we face here. But this was not the case and I sensed that they felt that we had done the right thing and the best thing for our children.
We will not see them as much here as we would if we had stayed in Arizona, but knowing that they approve of our decision has been a great relief.
The kids all enjoyed the time spent with Oma and Papa, as they prefer to be called. While I went to work during the day, Papa kept the work crew busy gathering leaves and manure and built a huge compost pile. He attacked with a vengeance the cedar saplings that are popping up everywhere. He led the boys on an expedition to collect persimmons which Sue later made into some great persimmon bread.
After checking out the 3 peach trees that are on the place he advised me that they had pretty well had it. Some sort of boring insect has nearly killed them. The good news is that the apple tree is very healthy, and I got some pointers on how to prune it. I pre-ordered 4 more apple trees for spring planting.
We got to hear Army Stories, of which there is an endless supply. Even now after listening to my Dad for all these years, I was still hearing new ones.
We were a little nervous with my folks coming out for this visit. We wondered, I think, if they might think we were a little whacked to give up the comfortable city life for the obvious difficulties we face here. But this was not the case and I sensed that they felt that we had done the right thing and the best thing for our children.
We will not see them as much here as we would if we had stayed in Arizona, but knowing that they approve of our decision has been a great relief.
