Pleasant Valley Farm

Although fall is generally harvest time and not baby season, we've had some adorable little ones join our family this month, bringing both happiness and heartache.  Our brood cow Lil usually has a calf each spring, but something happened and we noticed she came into heat around the first of the year.  While that was a bit of a disappointment, she is getting to be pretty old, and things like that are part of life.  We have been anxiously watching her and knew the time was getting close, but we let her stay our in the pasture.  It's actually more sanitary to give birth outside if the weather cooperates, and Lil has had something like a dozen calves without assistance, so we weren't too worried that she would need help. Of course, when the day finally arrived, it was cold and wet.  In the interest of giving the calf the best start possible we decided to bring them into the barn for a few days.  

Dan had walked out to check on her on Wednesday, and sure enough there was a healthy calf on the ground, far up in the pasture.  I was in the middle of canning some Apple Pie in a Jar jam, so I couldn't really drop what I was doing, so Dan and his brother Matt took the truck out into the pasture.  They loaded the calf into the bed and put a lead rope on Lil. She didn't need any encouragement to follow along and kept an eye on the little one the whole way down.  This was the first calf born since our bull matured, and he seemed protective as well, as he also followed the truck all the way down to the barn.  While things like that can be a pain, it's good that he takes to the calves.  We have a large population of coyotes locally, and having the bull keeping watch over the girls and their little ones is actually kind of nice.  By this time, I was able to step away from the kitchen and was bedding down the stall.  We were able to get Lil and her calf in the barn and shoo Bullwinkle back out, so all went well.  The calf enjoyed his truck ride so much I decided to name him Ranger (after the truck).  He's strong and healthy, and since the weather has warmed back up (our high yesterday was a balmy 75!) he and his mama are back out in the pasture with the rest of the herd, and both are doing fantastic.

We also had a litter of kittens born here lately, which has been the heartbreaking part.   The mother cat has successfully raised kittens this spring, but this time, she seemed to just give up on the whole mothering job.  She seemed to do a bit better when I wasn't around (her motherly hormones seem to make her want to cuddle up to me instead of the babies for some reason), so I'd lock her in the house with them anytime I was running errands or working outside.  Still, after two of the four died, I realized I needed to step in and care for the kittens if they were to have any chance at making it.  At that point, there was a black and white one who was very small and runty-looking and a grey tiger one who seemed a bit better off.  I decided to start feeding them and warmed some milk and found a large syringe without a needle to use, since I don't have any baby bottles small enough for kittens.  But the grey one was nowhere to be found.  I couldn't believe the mother cared enough to move it, but it was gone.  I searched outside, and listened for a crying, cold baby kitty to no avail.   I locked her in overnight with her lone remaining kitten, which she ignored all night. Incredibly, in the morning, as I worked to get ready to open the farm stand for the day, I found the grey kitten on the front steps.  It had somehow survived, alone, outside, on a night where our temperatures went down to 22 degrees. Unsurprisingly, it was cold and not doing well at all, but I got some warm milk into it and put it in the kitty bed next to the woodstove.  It's been a frustrating weekend, as I've been feeding them every few hours, but watching the little black and white one fade away.  It really never took to eating from me, and its mother ignores them completely now.  I did the best I could, but it didn't make it.  The grey kitty has a great appetite and bites at the syringe when I feed it, so I'm hoping that it continues to thrive.  It's eating regularly and well, and naps contentedly without crying after a meal.  I know there is never a shortage of cats anywhere, and I wasn't looking for kittens, but since they are here, I felt it is my duty to care for them as best as I can.  Taking care of orphan critters is part of being a farmer, and even though our livelihood doesn't depend on kittens like it does lambs or calves, I'll do the best I can for this little one. So if you see me and I look a bit tired, it's probably from these every-4-hour feedings, which really don't make for a good night's sleep!

Lately I've been making some new seasonings. I started an herb garden when I came to the farm, and I really enjoy cooking with things I've grown. Fresh herbs are, of course, the most flavorful, and you just can't beat the flavor of something that was cut and then brought immediately into the kitchen. But every night this time of year brings the chance of the first frost (we've had lows of 34 already!) and so I like to plan on different ways to ensure I have delicious herbs all through the winter. I use the dehydrator a lot, and then place the dried herbs into glass jars. Another great way is to simply freeze herbs; many retain more of their flavor that way, although the texture is lost.

I have what some might call a “cookbook problem”. I collect them. I have subscriptions to multiple cooking magazines and never throw any out. I justify this by telling myself that I probably use them more than most people. I cook, from scratch, pretty much daily. I send out recipes in my monthly farm newsletter. I love reading about or adapting recipes to make the best use of whatever is in season. When folks ask me where I get the ideas for all the things I process and offer for sale at the stand, saying “I buy a LOT of cookbooks” really is no lie. One great idea I found recently was for basil salt. It's pretty simple and makes great use of the basil that is so bountiful now, and is a great way to keep that flavor around beyond the first frost. It involves chopping up the basil in a food processor, adding salt and blending it together, then drying it briefly in the oven and chopping it again. The recipe recommended sprinkling it on fresh tomatoes, but I'm thinking up lots of other great ideas, too...for instance, I'm planning on making homemade pizza soon just so I can try adding it to the crust! And since it worked so well with basil, and I'm overrun with sage right now, I made some sage salt too. It's already a winner in my book as a rub for meats! So that has been a fun success recently, and I've made enough to have some for sale at the stand as well.

Another project I wanted to try this year was making my own paprika. Did you know that paprika is simply a type of pepper, which is then dried & ground? It's great for adding color, but most of the store-bought stuff doesn't give a dish much flavor, in my opinion. So, in the winter when I poured over seed catalogs and planned this year's garden, I was intrigued by the thought of growing a few paprika plants. Like the rest of my pepper seeds, I started them out in the sprout house in mid-February, nurtured the seedlings and eventually planted them out in the garden in late May. It took until mid-September to get some red, ripe peppers from the plants. I picked them, cut them up, and put them in the dehydrator. They were good and dry today, so I tossed the pepper bits into the processor and began to pulse them until the small chunks of peppers became a rusty red powder in the inside of the glass. I carefully poured the resulting powder into some small herb jars I have, and was plesently surprised at the yield. I'm excited to do more, and if I end up with enough, I may sell some, but first I want to stock my own pantry. Just for fun, I compared my newly-ground seasoning to the container of store-bought paprika in my kitchen. My freshly ground paprika has an aroma of peppery spice, with a smidge of heat, and is fresh and colorful. In comparison, the other stuff smells like dust and is more brown than red. There's no debate about the winner of this taste test, and I'm anxious to feature it in a dish, maybe even tonight.

It took about eight months to go from pretty seed package to useable spice, but I've learned to savor the rewards of being patient. There is little opportunity for instant gratification on a farm. Time, patience and loving care are the main ingredients in pretty much all I cook (or sell), from the veggies to the meats to canned goods and, as you can see, even the seasonings. Still, I've yet to find anything that tastes better.

Readers of this blog and farm visitors may have guessed this by now, but Dan and I love old stuff. Honestly, when I look at a list of events for a “living history” festival, usually the only activity I haven't tried my hand at is spinning wool (although I would love a spinning wheel...it's on the buy-it-someday list!) I guess it's because we truly live history every day here at the farm...it kind of comes with the territory when you choose to work horses. But in addition to that, we just love being as self-sufficient as possible, and that frequently means doing things the old-fashioned way, whether it means making gate latches in the blacksmith shop or preserving food the way our grandmothers would have.

Many times, the best tools are the old ones. So, not surprisingly, we would much rather shop at an auction or flea market than the mall or Wal-Mart. Besides the utility, the old stuff has character. They are things that were made to last, made with pride by real American craftsmen (and women!), not disposable junk from some sweatshop overseas. Preserving this stuff, along with the knowledge of how to use it, is an incredible honor. A few weeks ago, we spent the day at a rather large area flea market. Dan was looking for specific items for the blacksmith shop, like vices and hammers. I had some cash in my pocket just for whatever we might come across. I was excited to find some glass beads that looked like they had been taken off an old chandelier, as I have a stained glass project I'd like to try which calls for them. Then I came across a very reasonably priced trunk. For some reason, I have a weakness for old trunks, and picked this one up. I'd like to try my hand at restoring it over the winter, cleaning up the metal parts and replacing the dry-rotted leather straps and handles. Dan found some tools, and we had a fun day, but had seen most of what was being offered and were heading back to the car with our treasures.

As we were walking back, we walked by a booth that had lots of horse stuff- saddles, saddle pads, bridles. I need more of that like I need a hole in the head, as I already have eight saddles in the tack room, and only four horses in the barn! But I can't resist looking, and something caught my eye immediately. It was a large, English-type saddle, but with what looked like two horns at the front. It was obviously old and in need of repair work before it would ever be usable, but you could tell it was well made. I had never seen a saddle like this in person before. I asked Dan if he knew what it was, and after giving it some thought, he admitted he was stumped. I knew that what we were looking at was an antique ladies' sidesaddle, the kind women riders would use before it was OK for women to wear pants! I just had to ask what the woman wanted for it. She replied “Make me an offer.” I threw out a pretty low figure, not knowing if she put any value on this old saddle, obviously in unusable condition. “I've had far higher offers than that!” she replied. She went on to say that she knew the woman whom the saddle had been made for, that she had gotten it after the woman's death, and that it was over 100 years old. She went on to tell me what she thought she could get for it on eBay, which was far more than I had to spend on a whim.

But then she said how that, more than the money, she just wanted it to go to someone who would appreciate it, who would treasure it, and would care for it like the piece of history that it is. I replied that I understood, as we farm with horses and antique machinery, and that our team is a pair of girls that both were born right here on our farm. “Then you know” she said. “I farm with horses, too. So you obviously know what it means to give something a forever home. That's what I want for this saddle- a forever home with someone who will take care of it.” And then she let me have it for about a quarter of what she thought she could get for it on eBay.

I've never ridden sidesaddle, so part of me wanted to take it home and just sit on it, just for a minute, just to see what it felt like. But with the hole Sara's passing has left in the barn, it wasn't possible. Dixie and Dolly are just too tall, it would have touched the ground on Ponyboy, and I wasn't putting it on Montana, since he isn't broke to ride yet. Although he is a sweetheart and likely wouldn't have minded, I'm not ready to trust him with an irreplaceable antique just yet. Regardless, it is something I treasure. I hope to get it professionally restored someday and try it out. It has a stirrup on the left side only, the right leg is placed between the two horns in the front. The seat and the place between the horns was once upholstered.  It has billet straps underneath to accommodate an English-type girth. The only thing I'm a bit unsure of are the two straps, the one on the left being just behind the stirrup, and in the same spot on the other side even though there is no stirrup on that side. There are no holes in this strap, but I thought perhaps it held some sort of overgirth, to keep the flaps tight to the horse's body, keeping the woman's dress from getting under the flaps and getting full of sweat & horsehair. But if that were the case, I would expect to see wear marks where the strap would have attached. There are none. My next guess is that they might be for mounting. Getting on a sidesaddle has to be a bit more complicated, so perhaps the one on the left is like a handle for the lady mounting, and the one on the off side would be for a stable hand or riding partner to hold while she got up, so the saddle wouldn't slip off-center. Or maybe they're just decorative, I really don't know. Feel free to leave a comment here if you know more than I about this! 

Isn't it a beautiful piece of history?  I just love old stuff!

After posting about our newest building, a blacksmith shop, I was suprised at the number of comments made to me about the new horse building.  In fact, our new shop really doesn't have anything to do with the horses, and I realized it was my fault for not clearing up what I mean by "blacksmith", so I wanted to remedy that with this post.

 Although the word blacksmith may make folks think of the guy putting shoes on a horse, the actual name of that profession is farrier.  Years ago, it was common for farriers to make horseshoes out of hot metal to custom fit the horse, but today most farriers' vehicles are stocked with a variety of sizes of premade horseshoes.  Very few do custom work with hot metal.

The term blacksmith, however, is used to describe a person who works with metal.  The traditional way to do this craft is to heat a piece of metal in a coal fire and then shape it using an anvil and a variety of hammers, tongs and other tools.   Years ago, many farmers were amateur smiths, and would make lots of different items for the farm...tools like rakes and shovels, blades including knives and axes, hardware like hinges and door pulls, plus fire pokers, pot racks, hooks for hanging things and more.  Most blacksmiths made many of their own tools, and were able to use their craft to repair  or recreate parts for the machinery around the farm.  Those with more skill or interest would refine their craft, sometimes generating extra income for the farm with their metal work.  When you think of wrought iron, the twists and scrolls are good examples of what a skilled blacksmith can do with a piece of raw metal.

I find it absolutely fascinating to watch Dan working at this ancient craft.  To watch as a straight piece of square metal is twisted and worked into a fancy fire poker or other item amazes me every time.  There is real skill involved, much of it learned simply through practice.  You must be able to tell how hot the metal is simply by the color it turns in the fire...too cold and it won't shape properly, too hot and it will melt and be ruined.  Different tools create different shapes and textures.  The forge can be used to harden metal, or to weld as well.  It truly is an art, and one that truly fits our farm, with our desire to preserve old skills that increase our self-sufficiency.   I'm also really excited about my own workspace there. I've already moved my jewelry making supplies there, and the internet tracking code says my stained glass supplies should arrive today.  While I'm anxious to get started with that, between butchering a pig today, picking up a coffee order, and setting up the stand for tomorrow, not to mention running the stand and attending a wedding tomorrow, I'll have to wait a few days at least.  But as the days grow cooler and the garden wraps up for the year, I think we'll be spending plenty of time in our new workspace!

Dan has had a few rare days off of work lately, as his brother Matt (and the other half of the construction company) is out of town visiting his folks. With some time to spend here on the farm, Dan has put some thought into what he'd like to accomplish this week. We decided to get to work on a project we'd been discussing for a couple months now, namely building a new workshop for Dan's blacksmithing. The oldest building on the farm was once a blacksmith shop, but due to the condition of the chimney and the age of the building (late 1800's), we'd rather err on the side of not burning it down. Dan has been working in a small shed, but the 8' x 10' space isn't big enough to accommodate much more than the forge & anvil. So, we decided to build a new workshop big enough for the forge & smithing tools, and also other metalworking tools such as welders, grinders, chop saws, etc. This way, all the tools will be in the same place and a metal project can be worked start to finish in the same place. He was also generous enough to promise me a section of workbench, because I'd like to try my hand at doing some stained glass projects during the off-season. You know, because I need another hobby.

Dan came up with the blueprints himself, and the new shop is 16' x 20'. We began setting a few posts over the weekend, and building in earnest this week. And an amazing thing happened. Some of our friends happened to have a few days off at the same time, and came to see the building go up. One had 20 + years of construction experience and is semi-retired, so it was easy to hand him a tape measure and a saw. Other friends were eager to pick up the cordless nail gun and get the boards secured. We had extra riders over to the Amish sawmill to pick up more rough cut lumber. Enough guys were happily building away that my main job has been picking up scraps of lumber so no one trips, and making sure there are enough refreshments in the crock pot and the cooler.  As much as I feel guilty not making salsa or pickles or dilly beans (and letting the produce go to the livestock or the compost bin), I think about what I'll remember 5, 10 or 20 years from now. Canning is my full-time summer job, but I don't think I'll ever have the opportunity to have a hand in building a blacksmith shop here on the farm, one we hope will outlast us.

 And even though all the men helping are old enough to be Dan's father, no one questions how he is going about with the project. They just ask what needs to be done next, and then grab a ladder or more nails or whatever is called for.  At the same time, he isn't afraid to bounce an idea off of someone on the best way to do something, either. While it's not the enormous project of raising a barn in a day, it surely has the same spirit of community, of helping a neighbor because you know that he would do the same for you. And in an age where almost everything is done by hired experts, or bought already assembled, I also think that there is a need to be a part of the doing of a project like this. To see the raw boards and steel roofing go from piles on the ground to a finished building, to create. It's the same kind of spirit that surely was present 150 or so years ago when the first shop was built, and an amazing thing to be a part of now.

For those of you who follow the blog & Facebook page, you probably know Puff had gone missing. As much as I'd like to say he came home safe & sound, that is not the case.  Life on a farm seldom imitates those happily-ever-after Disney-type tales.  A neighbor found some Puff-colored hair in the woods, as though there was a fight. There are plenty of things with sharp teeth in the woods, and unfortunately, they enjoy dining on pets & poultry. While we found no blood or body, he had never been missing before, and despite the tales folks have shared with me about cats showing up long after hope was lost, I've accepted the fact that he isn't coming back.  Puff had a personality much larger than his size, and I'll miss the fluffball dearly, as I'm sure many of our farm stand friends will as well. I just count myself blessed to have had 11 great years with him.

It also never ceases to amaze me how animals can show love, compassion, or whatever you want to call it, to their humans. Maxwell & Itty Bit (other farm kitties) followed me faithfully through field, forest, and along the road while I searched for Puff. I'm sure they knew he wasn't coming back before I did.

Maxwell is only a year old, and he has always idolized Puff- cuddling with him, following him around, and just generally looking at him like he was thinking that he wanted to be exactly like Puff when he grew up. Max has been my constant companion, the first week I couldn't even go to the bathroom without him! He's taken to sleeping in all the spots Puff did, including on my bed, something he's never done before. And at least, unlike his hero, Max stays off the pillows! Itty Bit has been close by as well. (She's sitting in the computer chair with me as I type right now.) Even Stumpy, a kitten born this spring, has been extra sociable, and managed to weasel her way into the house enough that I've upgraded her status from porch kitty to house cat.  And if there is any balm for a sad heart, I think warm cuddles and the antics of baby animals are right up there.  Stumpy has been tearing about the house all morning at lightning speed. It impresses me greatly, because she lost a hind foot at birth, but doesn't let it stop her from running, jumping, climbing into my houseplants, or just generally being a kitten. 

The only thing that remains to be seen is if any will step into Puff's pawprints as self-appointed farm stand mascot.  And I know that wherever Puff is, a part of him will always be here at the farm with us.  I mean that quite literally...I'm sure I'll still be sweeping up cream-colored cat hair for years to come...

Hello farm friends. Today I'm blogging, hoping for a little help. Those of you who have visited the farm stand have probably met Puff. He's a big, fluffy tan cat who absolutely loves people. He considers it his job to greet everyone who stops by, and is great about letting anyone pet him- young, old, special needs, it doesn't matter to Puff. Anyone can give him a pat or carry him around.

But Puff is missing.

Around the farm, cats come and go. Sometimes it's harder that others, but Puff is one that's a pet, a forever friend. Puff just turned 11 on the 4^th of July, and I have known him literally before he was born; I can remember carrying around his pregnant mother and feeling the kittens move before she gave birth. Unfortunately, she was hit & killed on the road when the kittens were just 3 weeks old. I took them and raised them, midnight feedings and all. They all made it; two would find new homes. Puff's sister lived with us too, until she met the same fate as her mother, just on a different road. Puff was my sister Laurel's cat, and she spoiled him rotten while I was in college. I moved home after college to help care for my terminally ill father, and Puff was there. In fact, he spent the last day or so of my Dad's life on my Dad's bed, comforting him. If he stood to jump down, my Dad would place his hand on Puff, and he would stay, so unlike usual cat behavior. I think he knew, somehow, that those were Dad's last hours. After that, I took Puff because no one else in the family had room for him, at least not away from the highway, and Puff has always loved to be outside. I took him into my little trailer before I had even met Dan. Puff put up with my house bunny, not hurting him even when the rabbit would mistake Puff for a female of his own species. (So funny!) When I came to the farm, so did Puff. He adapted well to all the critters and the freedom to roam. We had no idea how social he was until we opened the farm stand and Puff appointed himself mascot & head greeter.

Sure, like any animal he got on my nerves. I spent the morning of my wedding cleaning an infected wound on his shoulder because he got into a fight. I've lost sleep many nights because he was sure the best place to sleep was on my pillow, purring with his tail in my face. When thrown off the bed, he comes back like a furry yo-yo. When he wants in or out, he scratches walls or doors until he gets his way. He does what he wants, when he wants, how he wants. I think he has trained me far more than I ever will him.

Puff comes & goes so much in the summer that I can't remember exactly when I last saw him. Definitely Thursday, maybe Friday morning, but I just can't remember. I didn't see him Friday night, and he missed “work” yesterday. All the kitties were MIA, but my Mom was visiting with her dog. That was scary to the other kitties, but Puff lived with Pepper the dog for years. Puff used to wrestle with our other dog Penny, so I didn't think that was why I didn't see him. I've checked & rechecked every room and building on the farm, no small task. No Puff either. We found the other cats hiding the day away in the cornfield, but no Puff. I've walked the road and checked in the weeds, no sign of his body, no blood on the road, nor any sign of a struggle that might indicate he met a bad end with a coyote. I've called and called, but he doesn't answer.  I just keep expecting to walk into a room and see him curled up napping on a bed or a chair or the carpet in a room he's not allowed to be.  It breaks my heart a little each time I turn a corner and he's not there.  Mom said she dreamed of him last night;  he was just sitting on the porch, waiting to be left in, looking at us all like we were silly for wondering where he was and when he'd be back.

It's so hard not knowing. He is 11 years old, perhaps he was sick, knew his time was up, and went off to die without telling us. But he appeared to be in fine health as always. Perhaps he followed someone, maybe a nearby camper, back to their place. He hates cars and yowls like crazy; I have a hard time believing he was catnapped and taken away, but who knows. If he was, I hope they bring him back, or at the very least give him the love that I did. I've put flyers up around the neighborhood, alerted neighbors, posted a sign on the farm stand with his picture, offering a reward.  I posted to both the farm's Facebook page as well as my own personal one.  Now I'm asking you, my blog readers, for help, too.  I hope he comes back, one way or another, but my heart is breaking because I don't think I'll ever see him again. I worry he's hurt somewhere. I'd want to know, to be able to bury his body, if he is dead. But most of all, I'd just love to hear him purring in my ear again. I love this cat. And as much as Dan isn't a cat person, he is upset, too, but is the one trying to reassure me and tell me not to think the worst.

If you see ANY sign of Puff, please, please let us know. Email at pleasantvalleyfarm@yahoo.com , call anytime at 814-755-3911  or just stop by the farm.  A reward is being offered!

What is it like to be a farmer? Here's an example of a typical spring day. This is an actual journal of a real day, selected at random, in this case Monday, April 30, 2012.

Get up. As Dan checks on the large animals, I get up and check the incubator. Pull 13 chicks & 2 turkeys out and take them to the brooder pen, where food & water await under the heat lamp. When I open the pen, I sadly note a dead turkey poult- it looks like it drowned, as its head is still in the waterer. I never have understood how something 6” tall can drown in 1/2” of water, but it seems turkeys manage. The heritage breeds, like our Bourbons, are much smarter than the broad-breasted ones, but still, you lose one every once in awhile. Nature is not kind to the weak or dumb. Then I do the rest of my AM chores- making sure the rabbits, chicks, chickens & ducklings have food and water. Dan tells me to keep an eye on Finni, our Dexter cow- we let her and the new calf out of the barn yesterday, and although everything seems to have gone well so far, it looks like the calf got under the fence into another part of the pasture. If he can't find his way back, I'll have to take care of it.

Household stuff- take mail out to the box, grab newspaper, check email. While I'm online, I place a bulk order for pectin for my jelly & jam making. This should save money and keep my supply in stock for most, if not all, of the farm stand season, so I'm excited to have found a family-owned bulk supplier of the stuff. Head outside to get the load of jeans out of the washer & hang them up on the line outside (I don't have a dryer). As I'm hanging jeans, I'm relieved to see that the calf and Finni are together on the same side of the fence. He must have scooted back through whatever hole he went through in the first place. Before I take the hose away from the washer and take it back to the greenhouse, I decide to do another load, so I put in some sheets and towels. While that is going, I head downtown (to Tionesta, ~5 miles each way) to grab a few supplies. I get brown sugar and raisins at the grocery store, and more peat pots for the greenhouse at the hardware. While there, I talk to one of the owners- she asks what we've got growing in the greenhouse these days, comments about the snow last week pulling the trellis in the garden down, and asks what it's for- beans? No, peas, I reply, too early for beans yet, although we're both looking forward to the warmer weather coming this week. It's real small-town America- doing business and conversation with your neighbors, literally.

I get home and unload the car, then the washer. After the sheets are hung, I drag the hose up to the greenhouse and water any of the flats that look a bit dry. A few I hold off on- if I repot them this afternoon, it actually helps if they are a bit dry. The rhubarb is growing like crazy, and the groceries I picked up are for my Sweet & Tangy Rhubarb-B-Q sauce, so I pick enough to make up a batch. The stems pull out easily, and I have kitchen shears with me to cut off the leaves before I bring it inside- they are actually poisonous! I put on an apron and consult the recipe, then chop up 16 cups worth of rhubarb. Almost everything I do in the kitchen is by hand or with hand tools, and this is no exception. It's just me, the rhubarb, a cutting board, and a sharp knife. After the rhubarb, I chop an onion and then begin mixing the ingredients in the pot to begin cooking down.

Make some more coffee- that reminds me, I've got to talk to Dan about putting in a coffee order...we've got a new business partner, Happy Mug Coffee in Tidioute, and we need to get our order in so the coffee can be roasted, packaged & picked up before the opening day at the stand, which is less than a month away now! Stir the sauce, and then find a catalog for Welp's hatchery. I need to call and order the next batch of broiler meat chicks. All goes well, and I should have poultry in the mail next week. The canner begins to boil, so I add the pint jars I'll be using to sterilize them. Stir the sauce again so it doesn't scorch, them go out to get the mail. As I walk to the mailbox, I notice a turkey walking around the barnyard. The turkey hens have a funny walk just after laying an egg, and I see this, so I make a mental note to check the turkey nest in the bottom of the barn later, and if it is empty, to look around for a new one. As I get the mail, I see a white shape in the woods and hear a familiar yowling. It's Whitey the barn cat, whom I haven't seen for almost a week. Although my least favorite of the kitties (because of the constant yowling), I'm glad to see him. Cats are a favorite food of coyotes, and we've had plenty of kitties disappear without a trace, which always makes me sad. But, on the other hand, that means I can let the kittens hang around here. I have 3 kittens right now, I hear them on and off throughout the day as Little Girl thought that the best place to give birth would be in a cubbyhole under the clean towels in my bathroom. They're about 10 days old now, so before too long I'll relocate them somewhere more suitable once they get mobile. Mostly junk mail, but excited to see my renewal of National Geographic has come, and bundled with the newest issue is the back one (last month's) I missed! I had no idea they would send it when I renewed, but thank you, Amazon, I guess. This makes me excited, as we save them and keep them in our library upstairs (we have hundreds, literally) and now I won't have a missing one.

Stir the rhubarb again and clean up the kitchen, doing dishes. (nope, don't have a dishwasher either. On days when I'm canning a lot, I may do 4-5 sinkfuls by hand.) Eventually, the sauce is thick enough to be ladled into the hot jars and put in the canner for processing. Now I can relax a tad and have lunch. As I'm heating up some leftovers, I see the calf by himself, so I walk out into the pasture to see where his mother is. Turns out, she was just hidden from my sight by some trees, and looks at me as if to say “What are you worrying for? I have this under control!” But as I'm walking back, I feel a few sprinkles, so I take the laundry in. Luckily, most is dry already. I decide to eat first, then fold & put away. I eat quickly (I don't even take enough time to finish reading the paper), then fold the laundry. Next is taking the hot jars out of the canner to cool and seal. As I'm doing the second round of dishes, Dan stops in; he'd come to get a chainsaw & trailer for the next job of the day and dropped off the zip ties I'd asked him for.

After he leaves, I head to the barn, zip ties in hand. The net roof of the peafowl pen is sagging, and it is catching the males' tails as they show off. By bunching up the net at the edges, I can tighten it with the zip ties. I've been meaning to get to this forever, so I figured now was as good a time as any. The peafowl are the wildest of the creatures we raise- they go out of the barn if I come into their pen to feed, unlike everything else around here which pretty much runs up to anyone holding a feed scoop. But they are magnificently beautiful birds. I really don't spend as much time just looking at them, admiring them, as I maybe should. It's easy to take things for granted when you see them every day, even things of great beauty. I really try not to do that. After I finish up with the net, I see the water pan is empty, so I grab a bucket and head to the hydrant.

Another task down, and I need to decide whether to clean the chicken coop or transplant seedlings in the greenhouse. I love greenhouse work, but cleaning bird pens is pretty much my absolute least favorite farm activity. I decided to clean the coop, mainly so I could not dread it tomorrow. Manure happens on a farm. I'll clean stalls all day without complaint. Manure powers our farm- it's how the pastures stay so green, and how we can grow amazing amounts of garden produce without chemical fertilizers. I have a deep appreciation for the stuff and its place in the circle of life. It's just poultry manure I find so unpleasant. I don't think that's unreasonable though, as it is either thick, heavy, and with an overpowering, gagging reek of ammonia, or dry and like a fine powder that becomes airborne when shoveled, coating your hair, skin, the inside of your nose. When I clean the pens, it's about a 50/50 mix of both types. I'd cleaned the peafowl & turkey pens yesterday, so if I just suck it up I'll be all done, I tell myself. The other downside to cleaning these pens is that it's pretty much impossible to get the horse-drawn manure spreader close enough. The best way, unfortunately, is for me to shovel it into a plastic bushel basket with handles, then carry the basket to the spreader and dump it in. Between the two pens yesterday, I carried 15 basketfuls, each weighing about 50 lbs, maybe more. Today's job will be a little bit bigger yet.

I dig in and got to work. By basket #12 I need a short rest and something to drink, so I go up to the house. The calf is up and about, but again, Finni is just out of sight. I begin to suspect the calf is stuck, sort of- he's in a small patch of pasture bordered by fence on one side & the creek on the other. It's where he's been all day. The creek there is small- just about 3” deep by 6” wide in most spots right now. But, I guess, scary enough when you're only 8 days old. I walk out with the idea to either shoo him or pick him up and set him down on the other side. He first runs up to me, then turns and starts running up the fence line toward mama. If he stops at the creek, I figure I'll just scoop him up (well, as much as you can scoop up anything weighing 80 lbs) and set him on the other side. Finni looks up and sees the scene playing out. Her maternal instinct must have kicked in, as she starts running in our direction. This is not funny or cute; this is about 1,000 lbs of mama cow, complete with a set of horns which are plenty big and pointy enough to impale a human. I wasn't close enough to see the look in her eye, but I wasn't taking any chance that she just wanted a cookie. I run for the patch of scrubby trees, the closest thing I could get to. She stops about 20 yards away from me, hollers at her kid, eyes me, and moseys back. Although she didn't come any further than the calf, I figured the only critter in potential danger was me, so I leave the calf to figure out the solution on his own and go back to the coop, where it is still stinky, but safe. Basket #19 is the last, whoo hoo! I walk down to the barn and get some pelletized lime to sprinkle on the floorboards, which helps to absorb the ammonia smell. I go upstairs to the hay mow to fill my basket one last time, this time with sweet, clean hay for bedding. I spy something white streak out of the barn as I startle it by opening the door. It's either Whitey again, or else Itty Bit, my prized mouser. I return to the coop and spread the lime & bedding, then grab the waterer. While the feed can wait another hour or two until I do PM chores, it's never good to leave the waterer empty. I put the waterer back, full, and open the coop doors. The chickens pop in from their outdoor runs, both for a drink and for the fun of scratching around in the new bedding.

By now, it's 3 PM. I'm sweaty and feel rather disgusting. All I want is a shower, but I look up at the thermometer for the greenhouse and see that it is 105 degrees, meaning I should really go open the other door for more ventilation. That done, it's shower time! Yay! Once I get out, I spy the lone cupcake left on the kitchen table from last week (I made some for a friend's birthday). I figure 19 bushels of manure x 50 lbs or more each = about half a ton of manure moved by hand today. That's certainly enough calories burned to earn a cupcake!

I hear Dan & Matt pull in; their workday is over. Dan is super excited because he's got a log splitting machine in tow behind the van. They got it at work, and it looks to be old and homemade.  It makes the models for sale in front of places like Tractor Supply look small in comparison.  The engine has a crank start, and looks a lot like the Wisconsin engine Dan rebuilt a few winters back. We could sure use a splitter since we heat the farmhouse with wood, and although the engine didn't fire right away, it seems as though it's moved to the top of Dan's project list.

I go inside and return a call to the man who runs Whispering Brook Cheese Haus in Chambersburg. We've been playing phone tag for a few days, so it's good to hear him answer. I finalize our order for raw milk cheese so we'll have it on hand opening day for the stand. We'll go pick it up in about 2 weeks, which works well...if we plan it right, we'll be able to take both our moms out for a meal for Mother's Day. Dan and I also discuss what we think will work for our new partnership with a local coffee roaster, Happy Mug Coffee of Tidioute. Dan and I are on the same page about what we think our first order should look like, but we both have questions, so I'll email the coffee guy tonight or tomorrow and go from there.

PM chore time comes next. Check the incubator again, a few more chicks & another poult. Time to carry feed for the rabbits and chickens, each in a 50 lb bag that must be moved from the stand. My arms scream in protest at the thought, but Dan takes pity on me and carries them for me tonight. Rabbits fed & watered, ditto for the quail, ducks, chickens, peafowl and turkeys. As I feed the rabbits, I notice Finni & the calf are with the rest of the cows, by the pond. He's made the creek crossing, so that's one less thing to worry about. Eggs are collected now too. I don't have as many chicken eggs as normal, but that is OK. I figured shutting them out of the coop for a couple hours this afternoon would have that effect. Next I go across the street, to the woods to check turkey nests. My heart sinks as I see the feathers. We've already lost two hens to nighttime predators this year. I try to be diligent about counting heads in the evenings, and this one wasn't sitting on the nest the last I checked yesterday, but there weren't tail feathers everywhere the last time, either. Back I go, to see if by some chance she escaped. I'm only counting 5 hens...one is missing. But the hen perched on the fence by the gate has about 5 tail feathers left. Bingo! We have a broody hen...and she's alive. I walk up and grab her by the ankle. I carry her off to the backyard and put her in a chicken tractor, one we usually use for meat birds. It was empty, so now it will be a sort of turkey jail. I'll keep her there a few days to a week, until she stops sitting across the road. I feed her and walk away. She clucks unhappily, but she's alive. As I walk away, I see another turkey hen, returning from a nest just beyond the blacksmith shop, so all turkeys are now present & accounted for.

Next, dinner time for us. I'm making a favorite recipe of Dan's, pork chops with caramelized onions. I sear the chops (home-raised, of course) in a cast-iron skillet, and caramelize an onion in another. Then I put the chops in an ovenproof dish and top with a bit of butter, some sage (homegrown) and the onion, then put in the oven for about 45 minutes. Then I slice a few potatoes into wedges and toss with butter, Parmesan cheese and some seasonings. I place those on a baking sheet, and into the oven they go as well. As it cooks, I do dishes. Again.

After we eat dinner together, more business. It's time to sit down with the mushroom spawn catalog and figure out an order. We're very interested in adding edible mushrooms, like shiitake and oyster, to our market lineup. This will be a new process, but it seems low-maintenance, with the possibility of fruitings over several years after the initial investment. Dan has some fresh logs that will be suitable, so we're eager to get this project underway. We talk about what to feature for the May newsletter, which I need to finish and send out in the next day or so. I mention ordering strawberry plants as well, and Dan shows me a part he took off the log splitter motor which will need taken out for repairs tomorrow. By now, it's about 9 PM. Time for bed.

While this day had more completed projects than most, it's really not unusual for us to do so much in a day. Doing as many different things as we do, you have to work hard, but also smart, or you'll never get it all done. And it's always necessary to pay attention to the critters, the plants, and what is going on. It becomes second nature to be alert, as it is often far easier to prevent a problem than to fix it, whether it is an invasion of cucumber beetles in the garden or an issue with the animals. In plenty of cases, like the broody turkey, you can't fix it after the fact. One she becomes something's dinner, there is no undoing. And yes, I do cook from scratch pretty much every night. While it is so easy to say, “I don't have time,” I'm pretty sure I'm just as busy as you. In fact, I know I'm busier than when I worked away from the farm. If I can do it, you can too, it just comes down to a matter of importance- is it more important to be quick & easy, or healthy and sustainable? It's a question everyone has to answer for themselves. Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed a detailed look into what really goes into being a farmer.  It's so much more than just being outstanding in your field.

Today, the sprouts and I are staying inside. It's snowing or sleeting or something out there, which just seems cruel after the 70 and 80 degree weather of a few weeks ago. But truthfully, it IS still early April, and after all, the barn coat is a much more seasonal piece of clothing than the tank top this time of year in our part of the world. But today is one of those cloudy, grey days where the small greenhouse, our sprout house, just won't warm up much. Right now, at noon, it's only in the lower 60's, since it is barely 40 outside with no direct sun.

For about two weeks now, I've been carefully bringing the trays of sprouts inside each evening, so they don't suffer cold damage, and then lugging them back outside for a day of warmth & light. At first, it was a 5-minute chore, as I had 4 trays and only needed to make 2 trip outside to the sprout house. But those trays were seed starting trays, with 96 one-inch spaces for plants. Since then, the tomatoes, cukes, flowers and more have been transplanted into 3” peat pots, and I already have over a dozen trays to move each time. I have some more things to start as spring goes along, and more things in need of transplanting very soon. A plant will pretty much stop getting bigger if it doesn't have any more space for its roots- it's called being “rootbound”. After transplanting, I'm always amazed at how much a plant will grow in the next few days. You can literally notice a difference from morning to night!

While inside, I have some flats under fluorescent lighting up to help to make up for the lost daylight, not that they are missing out on much today. I have the rest near windows, soaking up the ambient light. I'm hesitant to have many more flats, as I'm quickly nearing the end of the available space to set them inside the house! But soon a few will be empties. Last Saturday, the construction on the main greenhouse was completed! Although the ends have been up, and Dan and I put up the 20' wide plastic for the roof the weekend before, we still needed to enclose the sides. We used more plastic, fastened to boards at the bottom for the sides. This way, during the heat of the summer, the sides can be rolled up and tied, providing for even more ventilation than the windows and doors at the ends could provide. We're very excited to have the greenhouse rennovations completed right on schedule. We've already planted onions, chard, lettuce and beets in the ground in the greenhouse, and we're looking forward to getting our greenhouse tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers and eggplants in the ground within the next 2 weeks. Although we know there will be some nights we'll have to heat the greenhouse, it's the only way to really get those crops to mature earlier. If all goes according to plan, we're optimistic that we'll be offering cucumbers as soon as we open this year.

It is spring, so of course we're crazy busy. Besides the greenhouse activity, Dan has already started plowing for the year, so it won't be too long before I'm working some of the machinery as well, which I really enjoy. Chick season is here and in full swing. Right now, we have baby chicks for sale. This year we will have Barred Rocks, and Easter Eggers, plus a few Delawares and Golden Phoenix chicks. Monday should bring our first turkey poults of the season. We're getting lots of inquiries about our Bourbon Red poults, and I do have a few folks who have already reserved poults. The quail have finally started to lay, and with only 18 days of incubation necessary (compared to 21 for a chicken or 24 for goose, duck, peacock or turkey) we'll have bumblebee-sized little quail in the brooder next week. The geese have been sitting on nests for a couple of weeks now, so I think we'll see goslings soon, too.

All our lambs are thriving on the good spring grass, and it's a joy to watch them run and play out in our fields. I'm also watching our Dexter cow Finni like a hawk right now. She is due any day now, and we're again looking forward to having a calf in our midst. We bought Finni to be our family milk cow, and we're once again anxious to have our own farm-fresh milk in the fridge. I'm looking forward to dabbling a bit in making some other dairy products, like butter, cheese and sour cream as well.  ...And speaking of cheese, as opening day approaches, we'll once again make the journey to Whispering Brook Cheese Haus so we can offer their raw milk cheese at he stand.  We've missed all the delicious flavors, too!

We don't have enough room in the incubator for all the eggs we're getting, so I've also been busy trying to use them up making a variety of handmade egg noodles here at the farm kitchen. Dan absolutely loves them, and I'm looking forward to listing on our Etsy store (www.etsy.com/shop/pleasantvalleyfarmpa/) and having them available when we reopen at the end of next month. It won't be long now!

Be sure to check out our Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Pleasant-Valley-Farm/121591150986 ...our album “Greenhouse” shows the whole building process!

Last weekend was the long-anticipated Farm to Table Conference in Pittsburgh.  I had a great time presenting and meeting lots of great people interested in local foods last year, and I'd been looking forward to doing it again this year.  Also exciting was that my mom was able to attend and see me speak, and my sister Laurel graciously covered the farm's table in the exhibit hall while my presentation, titled "Treasures from our Grandparents' Gardens: Heirloom Seeds" was going on.  I was amazed that I had as many attendees at 11:30 on Friday morning for my speech as I did last year on a Saturday afternoon!  

Speaking so early meant that lots of folks who saw me  had a chance to stop by and say hello or ask follow up questions when they stopped by the farm's table in the exhibit hall.  I was flattered by the number of them who said that they really enjoyed it, and glad that so many of them were able to take away something useful from what I had to say.

 Pleasant Valley Farm's table at Farm to Table Pittsburgh, 2012

The conference was much busier this year than last in my opinion.  It was great, I believe that I literally talked to hundreds, if not over a thousand different people, all interested in local foods.  Many of them were even familiar with Tionesta, and I hope to see some of them this summer.  We had lots of positive feedback about the different tastes of the farm we brought to sample- Carrot Cake Jam, Black Forest Preserves, Hot Peach BBQ Sauce, Fiesta Salsa, and Ginger-Garlic Mustard.   We sold out of Ginger-Garlic Mustard, Peach BBQ, and our Blueberry-Basil vinegar, much to the disappointment of some who tried a sample and wanted to pick up a jar on the way out!  All in all, we made some great contacts and hopefully reached a lot of people, and helped to get the word out that there is more to eating locally than just raw veggies! 

We were also very flattered to be in the Farm to Table preview article in Pittsburgh's Tribune-Review! Emily was quoted extensively, and the print version featured photos from the farm, a shot of heirloom lettuce growing in last year's garden, and another of Emily working our team of horses (Dixie & Dolly even got their names in the caption!).   To read the article for yourself, check out: http://www.pittsburghlive.com/x/pittsburghtrib/news/email/s_787449.html?_s_icmp=enews

As I went out to start my morning round of chores on Friday, I heard an unfamiliar noise coming from the direction of the pond in the pasture. It sounded most similar to the call of our Coturnix quail, but a quick glance in the direction of the quail pen assured me that the door was still closed and I could see a good number of them hopping about in the grass. After taking water and food to the various pens of poultry and rabbits, I took a short walk to the pond to investigate. As I came close, I could see hundreds of black eyes starting back at me, floating on the surface of the water. Frogs. Not the itty little spring peepers, whose call is so loud it seems impossible for the frog's body size, but not big ol' bullfrogs, with their deep throaty calls, either. These were the mid-sized, shiny green frogs that the part of my brain which must have been paying attention in high school biology wants to call leopard frogs. The kind that leap to the water as you approach the bank of many small streams or ponds around here. The noise I was hearing was apparently the mating call of hundreds of these frogs, which had taken advantage of the summer-like weather to gather in our pond to lay eggs. I stood on the bank for a minute, admiring the sheer number of these little guys (and gals!), and watching the ripples dance across the pond from the places where some had gone under the surface of the water as I had approached. The little ripples expanded in ever-widening circles, reflecting the overcast sky like a living mirror. But, as always, spring days bring lots of things on the to-do list, so I didn't stay long.

As I closed the gate behind me, I heard the unmistakable honking cry of Canada geese. As I watched, a pair descended and came to a splashing landing in the pond. The frogs shut up ever so briefly. We are usually graced with a pair or a small flock of these birds on spring days. The pond seems to be a rest area on the northward migration, at least for some small groups. Often, a pair will stick around for a few days to a week or so. I always hope they'll build a nest, either by the edge of the pond, or a short distance further up in the pasture field where there is shelter provided by a few small trees and some brush. But, each year they move on. While we have barnyard geese, (Toulouses) who will hatch their own goslings and swim about the pond, I still like to think that maybe this year, their wild cousins will settle down here for the spring. They have such a grace and beauty to them, and I love looking out my kitchen window and seeing them outside.

Lunchtime came, and as I was inside fixing myself a sandwich, the turkeys began to gobble incessantly. They are loud this time of year, but this went on without pause for 10 minutes or so, which was unusual. Some of it seemed to sound like it was coming from across the road, but when I looked outside, I could see both gobblers near the turkey house, where they belonged. I have learned that sounds will bounce around here, off of buildings and the surrounding landscapes since we are in a valley. Often, something sounds like it is coming from the opposite direction than it actually is. So, I ate and then went back outside. I saw our Royal Palm hen on the road, obviously coming from the other side back to the farm. I went to see what she had been up to, as some of her sisters had used the brush pile across the street as a nestbox last year, and I wanted to discourage any notion of using it again this year. As I crossed the road, I saw something shiny and blue on the footpath ahead of me. It was the two yearling peacocks, who live a free-range existence with the turkey flock. So I started down the path to try and round up my birds, who were staring down the path, looking deeper into the forest. Then I saw a bronze shadow flitting between the trees, headed away from us. It was a wild turkey. A male, another gobbler, and as best as I could judge, bigger than our own Gobbles, and with a longer beard. (A turkey's beard is a hairy thing that hangs from the chest of the males. Longer = older bird.) It must have been he who got my domesticate birds so vocal...and why it sounded as though something was calling from across the road, because he was! It was like magic to watch him run down the path and out of sight. Although we live surrounded by the forest, we don't often see its wild inhabitants. They come by at night, leaving us to find footprints or signs of last night's dinner in the fields.

I try and look for the signs of life all around, and for that I was rewarded one more time that day. As I began my evening chores, something orange caught my eye. A small orange & black butterfly floated past our woodshed. While not unusual to see on a summer's day at the farm, it is still the middle of March.   

I've always been proud of how, on our farm, we work as much with nature as we can. Of course, farming is always linked to nature with cycles of seasons, weather, creatures being born and dying. But there is something to be said about working with the larger ecosystem to the greatest degree possible. This does not mean that we will happily allow the local predators a free pass to dining on our poultry, nor do we want to see groundhogs building ever-larger holes in the hayfield. (These holes can break a horse's leg if stepped in. Since we make hay with the horses, this is a concern.)

But the stream that runs through our pasture, that supplies our livestock with water, supports a breeding population of native trout downstream, a fish that is very sensitive to pollution and water quality. Dan and I have planted a crooked row in the garden so as not to disturb the nest of a killdeer. She and her babies do us a valuable service, as  they dine on insects that would otherwise dine on our crops.  Avoiding a small nest in the garden costs us nothing, but we are rewarded many times over by her insect hunting services. I think about how chemical fertilizers and pesticides would silence the frogs' song coming from the pond, how so many bird populations suffered the effects of DDT over the years, how so few people will ever know the excitement of unexpectedly seeing a wild turkey crossing their path. I know how lucky I am to have these wild encounters on a daily basis, and I try not to ignore them, nor take them for granted. It reinforces my commitment to farming the way we do, caring for the soil and water in a responsible way.  It reminds me that I do this not just for me, or my family, or my customers' families.  It's for them too- the bees and the bears, the whitetails and the warblers, the turkeys and the trout.  And also for the ash tree, the lady's slipper flower, even the skunk cabbage.  It's good for all of us.  And really, isn't that the kind of place you wanted your food to be coming from anyways? 

It's the halfway day of February already! Winter seems to be just flying by. Although, the fact that it has been warm and snow free for much of the time probably has a lot to do with that feeling. But as we start on the downhill of the month, I can't help but feel like things are going to get crazily busy before I've had a chance to get around to my winter projects!

The cold and snow have kept me inside most of this week, but I'm already thinking spring. I lugged a big bag of potting mix into the kitchen to thaw out, and by tomorrow I should be filling flats with seedlings for early tomato, pepper and cucumber plants for the greenhouse. I should be getting some herbs seeds very soon, and am hoping to be able to offer a few potted herbs when we open for the season.  Plants for the main garden will follow in a few weeks. I'm excited about rehabbing the small greenhouse near the house over the next week or so, and using it to start more of our own plants than we have in the past. I'm also excited about getting a big greenhouse up, and planting the plants right in the ground inside. This will be new for me, although Dan did it for years. We had hoped to last year, but it didn't happen, mostly because of the incredible amount of rain we had last spring. But, we're determined to get it up and operational this time around.

Another thing that has me busy is preparing for the Farm to Table conference in Pittsburgh, March 23 & 24. I'll be speaking once again, this time on Heirloom plants, so I've got an hour long speech & Powerpoint to put together. I'll also have a table in the main hall both days, so I've been planning on how best to fill it. I've bottled some vinegars, made some mustard, and have been working on plenty of feather jewelry too.

In addition to my talk on Heirloom plants, it's looking like I'll be involved in a couple of other educational presentations. The local Lions Club is putting on a walk & educational program about diabetes awareness, and they reached out to us to partner with them. There is a meeting next week to plan it, but I know that usually if someone volunteers, they are put to good use. Also upcoming is to do some education on nutrition, organic foods and shopping local for families in a nearby town in a health & nutrition program. I am looking forward to helping out local groups, but also trying to get a good outline of what I want to say, as well as any handouts I might want to pass out, because I know better than to put off my homework until the middle of spring. It's impossible to stay inside in the spring on a farm, but for now, it's nice to stay warm and dry here in front of the keyboard.

January is just flying by! Dan and I took advantage of the winter slowdown by actually taking a vacation!  We visited both his parents and my mother.  It was fun to spend time with them and take some time to relax.  (any morning when you don't have to get up and do chores is relaxing!)  We were gone for nearly two weeks, and I honestly can't remember the last time we were away that long.  Dan's brother did a great job of taking care of the place for us, and other than the sheep deciding that they wanted to live in the front yard rather than the pasture, all went well.  But even on vacation, we still saw livestock!  Our visit to my mom's also concided with the PA Farm Show, just minutes from her home, so the three of us spend a fun day checking out the exhibits.

Now it's back to business here.  I'm working on finishing up our garden seed orders, keeping the website updated and  getting another email newsletter put together.  I'm also busy canning.  It's a great time to have the stove going all day, so I'm finally getting around to some things I stored in the freezer. Next on my list is defrosting a bucket of cherries to make a batch of Black Forest Preserves.  And besides freeing up freezer space, I need to get some inventory together because I just found out that I'll be taking the farm on the road again soon! We're excited to announce that we'll once again be at the Farm to Table conference.  This year's event is March 23-24 at the David L. Lawrence Convention Center in Pittsburgh.  We will have a table in the exhibit hall with lots of your favorite farm goodies, like Carrot Cake Jam, Blueberry-Basil Vinegar, Oktoberfest beer mustard, and more!  We'll also be bringing some feathered jewelry creations.  Also, I will once again be a featured presenter!  this year's topic is seeds, and I'll be giving a presentation titled "Treasures from our Grandparents' Garden: Heirloom Seeds".  I'm excited to be coming back again this year, but I know that the end of March is not that far away, so I'll be doing a lot of work to get prepared by then!