A Sneak Peek

I can remember back when I was pregnant with Matt being so excited by my sonograms. Because of health issues I had to have so many we just had them all put on a video cassette. I would view the tape over and over- seeing them as a promise of something good to come.
Today I got a sneak peek at another future good thing. A friend of mine is hatching some Amerucana eggs for me, so that my chick-a-doodle family can grow and be complete. Although candling has been around for centuries- it is just as amazing to me as todays sonograms.
Hopefully in another couple of weeks I'll have baby chicks to post about. Looking forward to seeing Miss Helen, Miss Jackie, Prissy and Alice.

Bean Tunnel

So for those who know my son Matt and I, it comes as no surprise when I tell you- we do not live in this world. We tend spend a great deal of time in our heads dreaming, imagining and wondering; hence when it comes to doing something physically the results are often less than stellar. When I told my husband Jim that I was going to make a "Bean Tunnel", he asked me to wait. "Let me do it.", "Why not be a little patient and wait until I can build it." Laura, I don't think it's a good idea for you..."
My impatience and Jim's limited time away from work often collide, so we both knew that I would try to do this and it would probably be a disaster. I mean me with a sledge hammer, wire fencing and an untried plan was bad enough- throw Matt into the mix and we better have 911 on speed dial. Blood would most likely be shed, but on Matt and I went with a belief that armed with bolt cutters and a large pkg of zip-ties anything was possible.

It took us 2 days, ok maybe not 2 full days- I believe strongly in air conditioning, iced tea breaks and Matt was studying for finals. In the end, no band-aids were used and only a few plants suffered. Note to self: plant after you finish building garden stuctures. Now all we have to do it wait for the beans to grow, vine and cover our Bean Tunnel with fabulous foilage and delicious beans.
Oh and these are stringless beans, so not to worry that I will can dozens of quarts of stringy beans again this year- despite my husbands encouragment that they added fiber to his diet. Like I said- I don't really live on this planet.

Let the games begin... Can Jam 2012

Strawberry season is once again here! We are fortunate to have a local farm that grows strawberries and has the option to pick-your-own. I've been spending quite a bit of time at Payne's not only picking for my own canning expeditions but for our Can Jam; where I and a friend shared our knowledge and experience with a group of ladies.
The idea of me "teaching" a class in canning was sort of funny. I have only been canning a year, but so many women asked if we could show them how~ we finally agreed. I tried to weasel and said, "I am sharing, not teaching." Coward that I am, I still took the plunge and in the end 20 women and one lone rooster said they had a good time and took home a jar of strawberry jam which they made in class. In fact many of them bought their supplies and have begun to venture into the amazing world of canning.
So far I've got 14 pints on my own shelves and figure maybe 21 more will do it. Then it's on to Blackberry~ I've already started to scope out some tasty patches.


DEAD CHICKENS! no just getting a tan~

Sometimes my mouth screams and other times it's just my brain, usually when I see something I can't fully process by my early warning system tells me it's BAD. Such was the first time I saw one of my beloved chicks laid out, feathers splayed, bared under belly showing, eyes 1/2 closed- it all said DEAD CHICKEN to me. Before my brain could transfer the scream to my mouth, though- there was movement. Someone stepped on someone- cause in the chicken world someone always steps on someone ruining a meal, a bug catching or in this case a sun bath.

Did not know that chickens sunbathed, or at least that was the concensus from Backyard Chickens my new favorite go-to chicken emergency sight.

I have learned alot about chickens over the last 5 weeks. How to know that your quirky chicken Alice is really a Don Knotts style rooster, that chickens love to eat eggs and a host of other tid bits that while you're in the newbie throwes of chicken ownership seem like the most important facts you can know- scripture for chicken lovers. Anyway- life is much more interesting with 6 feathered friends in the backyard- they got their new run before the coop was ready so they could move out of their cramped little 3x6 apartment. As you can see it's sunny and they are happy, bugs are a plenty and there's a great sun deck for the chicks to go wild on Spring Break.

The "He" and "She" of it all

So the chicks are now about 2.5 weeks old and I have realized some useful information: When buying chicks at the feed store~ $1.99 means "Straight run". For those of you who are not knee deep in wood chips, who don't revolve your life around cleaning pop off a feeder because someone likes to be higher than everyone else (which means feeder sitting)~ who have not yet discovered the joys of chickens...Straight Run means you takes your chances. Boys and girls, hens and roos all in the same bin- what they scoop is what you get.
I am now the proud momma of 3 little red hens and possibly 3 obnoxious Buff Orpington roosters. We won't know until someone crows. Alas if menfolk they happen to be, a friend who has lots of Buff Orpington hens needs a man around the Orpington house...so I got that goin for me- which is nice.
Here's their latest class pics.

 Maisey in all her glory. She's not one of the possible roos but she is so my fav chicken.

This is Wilma or possibly Willy, we'll see if she starts to crow soon...

As you can tell, Alice or possibly BIG Al is scrawny and squawky.

This is Pruda, a little freaked out...



Chicks Gone Wild

 The girls are here! I am no longer barren, chickless, without peeps!
After several months of pouring over chicken catalogs, websites and magazines, I had made up my mind to get chickens. Team Chicken, my effort to obtain some feathered friends was not a totally smooth campaign. Mostly due to my husband who would not only have to become a supporter of Team Chicken, but a financier as well. Eventually I won him over- well pestered him to death until he relented is more accurate.

 The problem became how to bring the future egg providers into my home. Do you order, then there's the minimums. Do you find a local provider, try finding one that has the breeds you want. Feed store? In the end, the Tractor supply won out. Of course that was after my coop got sold out from under me and I entered into what can only be described as the Land of Poo Poo Face. Unattractive and terribly distraught. My husband has no defense against this and I try not to use it as a weapon to get my way. As fast as the lower lip pooched, Jim had the car keys in hand and off we went to see what TSC had delivered that day.

 We came home with 6 chicks, 3 Buff Orpingtons, 1 New Hampshire Red and 2 Production Reds (most likely Rhode Island Red and NH Red mixes). Currently all are healthy and happy, eating, pecking and generally being chick-y. Each already has a personality and name. Maisey is shy and sweet, Alice is small but plucky, Wilma is large and round, Leila has a beauty mark and a fiesty streak, Pruda is sort of the middle child with a pretty blonde head, Bea is confident and always has first pick or peack of the food. 2 Americanuas should be added to the mix shortly to round out the flock to 8.

I'm sure this is just the start of an interesting adventure. Animal care has never been my strong suit, and livestock intimidate me, but I look forward to many fresh eggs and days watching Chicks Gone Wild.

Change is good, right?

Currently I have pine shavings in my spare bedroom, basil seeds in my purse, canning jars pretty much everywhere and Tractor Farm Suplly's number written on my palm (couldn't find paper).
I have never been what you call an "outdoor-sy" kind of girl. As a matter of fact my mother often times punished me by making me go outside~ without a book! Agony. I didn't like sitting in grass because it poked my legs. I hated having anything dirty, sticky, dusty, slimy or smelly on my hands. How did I get to this place in my life? A place where I can my own veggies, make my own bread and today- await the arrival of my first baby chicks?
This week as my birthday came and went, I started thinking about all the things I assumed I would do- but didn't. Graphic Artist/Lawyer, world traveler, single and childless living in LA has become SAHM volunteering full-time at the local church, living in a rural log cabin in North Georgia, canning, quilting and now farm animals...ok it's just chickens, but I'm also considering a goat at some point. What's wrong with this picture?
Nothing. Although it means consistently stepping out of my comfort zone- a place I really don't like- it also means adventure and a chance to see where God can take you. This week it's taking me into owning my own chickens- who knows what the week after will bring.