The sweetest thing

Kale gets sweeter after a light frost.  We've had frost.  But I really can't say if the kale is sweeter since I haven't tried it yet this year. 

The chickens still like it, although lack of sweetness never stopped them before.  They are unapologetic kale addicts.

So maybe it's sweeter. 

We've had snow too, but I don't know if that makes the kale any more sweet.  And honestly, how in the world is "sweet" a good way to describe a leafy green vegetable?

But there is something on my farm that is very sweet.

Since we've had frost and snow, it's not raspberries.  They are amazingly sweet, but they're gone for now.

                               

See you next summer, yummy raspberries.

So what could it be, you ask?

Hmmmmmm...

Is this little bean the sweetest thing on my farm?

Nope.

But she knows what the sweetest thing on the farm is...

Yes, it's....

...these sweet little toes.

Scrumptious.  She can't help herself.

I can't help myself either, so I know she's right.

But I still miss the raspberries.

Pumpkin invasion

My home has been taken over by pumpkins. Honestly though, I guess I did invite them in. And they are terribly pretty lying all around.



Aren't they pretty?!

We grew Autumn Gold and Snackjack pumpkins this year.

Autumn Gold is a nice average pumpkin. Round and orange. Orange and round. With seeds inside... it's a nice pumpkin, really, a good size for carving... but what in the world will we do with eighteen of them?

Anyone want a pumpkin? Or three?



But the Snackjacks are special. They are small, and cute, and just the right size for boys to haul all over the house.

Sorry, the boys are keeping every last one of the Snackjack pumpkins. We do need to learn to share, but even I might have a hard time letting these jewels go.



Can you tell Snackjacks make boys happy?

The Snackjacks are extra-special because they are absolutely jam-packed FULL of hull-less seeds. We love roasted pumpkin seeds! Hooray for Snackjacks!

With very, very much anticipation... and very, very much giggling... I carefully split two of them open.

The boys dug in with spoons and before I knew it we had pumpkin seeds everywhere. Seeds on the floor, seeds on the underside of the cabinets, seeds in the sink... but thankfully, most of them made it into the bowl.



You can't quite tell from the picture, but we got a TON of seeds from these two tiny pumpkins. And yes, that is a scientifically accurate measurement of them.




The boys love them roasted with just a bit of olive oil...




and just enough season salt, or more than enough, depending on who's in charge...

Yes it's almost noon, and yes, the boys are still in their jammies. Sometimes it's more important to roast pumpkin seeds! I'm a Mom with my priorities straight, that is sure.



shiny seeds in the pan ready to roast




still warm, the boys dig in and



YUMMY!!!

If Daddy is lucky, there will be a few left when he gets home.

September garden tour

Look! The Chrysanthemums are just starting to bloom. They will be beautiful while everything else falls to the frost in the next few weeks.


Come! Walk back to the garden corral with me. It's been a few weeks since I've been out there, I'm really not sure what we'll find. Honestly, I have been spending too much time with these goofy birds...


I bet my weeds are bigger than your weeds!


But there are some beautiful things hiding under there. Let's have a peek...


HORRAY! Jalapenos! They are small but mighty!


Eggplant! Four little ones are a BIG surprise. I thought they were dead and gone.


Pretty (and tasty) little Siberian Tomatoes. The earliest of the early tomatoes. Just ripening now in September, if that tells you what kind of summer we had.


Well, the Roma Tomatoes are just barely red, the ones with any color have been nibbled by rodents. *sigh* I'll have to pick them green and hope most of them will ripen in the house. Tomatoes need warm temperatures, even at night, to ripen properly. It was just too cool this summer.


Now these beauties are supposed to be green. This is the Long Keeper Tomato. It will not ripen on the vine. They are picked green and come in the house to ripen over the winter. They are not supposed to taste as good as a summer-fresh tomato, but better than store-bought. This was new for my garden this year, I'm very curious to see how long into the winter they last... and how they taste.


Another BIG surprise are these new Yellow Squash growing. After I let a few huge ones go, I thought the plant had given up.


Like this monster. The chickens will enjoy it, and thank me with eggs.


Even the Zucchini put forth a valiant effort. See the little one beside this beast?


Winter squash! A whole shelf-full will last until February if we're lucky. The boys LOVE roasting the seeds for yummy snacks.


What is a fall garden without Pumpkins? Pumpkins make me smile! For pie, soup, roasting seeds, and of course jack-o-lanterns.

And now to get busy. I expect a frost in the corral tonight.

Check tire pressure

We had an eventful morning. Sort of. It could have been worse.

It could have been forty below zero, and I could have had my eight kids with me instead of the three that I do have. Although, it's not likely to be forty below in September, and I can assure you I am NOT having eight kids.

I was minding my own business driving my five-year-old to preschool.

Suddenly the car told me to check the tire pressure. My car does that.



I'm finally almost comfortable with the fact that I drive a Cadillac.



HEY! It was cheaper than a minivan! All I wanted was a car that would fit three kid carseats and have a light in the trunk!!! So leave me alone, OK!???

(cough)

When my car tells me to check the tire pressure, I don't use a tire gauge.

From my luxurious, leather, Cadillac seat I pushed a button. Left front 33 psi. Right front 33 psi. Left rear 32 psi. Right rear 16 psi. Uh oh. I let off the gas, and wondered if we would make it 4 miles more to school. Right rear 12 psi. I started braking. I had enough time to say, "Well, kids, we get to change a tire!" Right rear 0 psi. Whomp, whomp, whomp.

It's been a loooooong time since I changed a tire.

I don't know how to get the rims off the car.



Now how did I manage to blow a hole like that in my tire (two holes, actually) without even knowing I hit anything?

So I got started.

The jack looked simple enough. Now, where to put it. The car has these fancy silvery things along the frame. So maybe the real frame is behind that? I'm looking and feeling my muddy car. I found a spot that seemed nice, then changed my mind.

Distracted, like always, I decided that we were (no question) far enough away from the road to let the boys out of the car. They wanted to watch.

"Boys, this is called a jack", as if I know what I'm doing.

They already know what a jack is. This is likely the tiniest one they have ever seen.

I look at them. I wish I had a picture of them standing side by side, motionless, staring at me. They had expressions that seemed to say, "Yes Mom, that is a jack, but do you know how to use it?"

I don't have a picture, because that would mean I remembered the cell phone, which might possibly also have been a bit helpful.

A very lucky thing happened next. I realized the word "JACK" and an arrow, were imprinted on the bottom of the silver stuff under the frame of the car. Hiding under some mud. Of course.

Shouldn't a Cadillac change it's own flat tire?

I got the car jacked up, and felt pretty confident that I had the whole thing under control. Aside from wondering how to get the rim off. One step at a time here.

That was when the black SUV drove past.

I briefly wondered if I looked pitiful with my two little boys standing there watching me.

I certainly didn't need to be rescued. I am superwoman.

The black SUV came back.

I must have looked completely incompetent.

I don't have a picture of the kind men who finished the job. Because, you know, that would mean I had my phone.

And the rim? It comes apart. I found out there's a tiny little spot to pry off the middle. The part that is called the hubcap. Imagine that. It pops right off ever so nicely.

I called my husband after we got back home, and left a message saying, "I had a flat this morning. Do you want me driving on it or are you going to pick him up this afternoon?"

I hung up, and immediately realized how silly that sounded.

I called back and left another message, "I mean, do you want me driving on the spare. I did not drive on the flat."

Because I am not THAT incompetent.

One of those mornings

I woke up this morning, with my little babe tucked under my armpit (thinking I must remember to wash her head before church) and hearing the happy sound of my boys playing. Playing together. Not fighting. It was a wonderful....and rare (this time of day) thing.

I jumped in the shower quick. And it wasn't long before I heard the sounds of the cold, hard truth- it was going to be one of those mornings.

The littlest boy started in pretty quick with his routine morning "terrible two's". Nothing is right. Everything is wrong. Although he had a pretty good excuse (compared to his usual no-reason meltdowns) for what started it all.

Daddy gave the bigger brother the bowl that the little brother always uses.

Poor Daddy. Like a frog minding it's own business about to be run over by a lawn mower.

The bowl was immediately dumped over, milk and cheerios and all. And so it began...

The older one decided to take his sweeeeeeeet time getting dressed. Some words flew.

Then the littler boy decided that his brother was wearing his pants. And no pants in the world could make it right. He refused to get dressed. He was nowhere to be found when it was time to put shoes on, and then when he appeared, wanted any shoes but his own. He refused to empty his bladder before we left. Then, amazingly, he asked for help. After Daddy came to help, he screamed at him, "I want to do it by myself!!!"

Daddy had, by now, had enough of "The Exorcist" reenactment, and was ignoring him.

There was snot everywhere. LOTS of snot.

We nearly threw in the towel several times. But I was determined to go to church, even if I had to go by myself (oh, how wonderful that would have been!). I knew we were discussing anger in Sunday school. And I knew I needed to be there for that!

We were almost ready to leave. The kids were all dressed and out the door... I don't understand why, and I don't understand how... but it's the honest truth. (I really don't know how single parents do it all)

But like most moms (I like to think I'm mostly normal) I had gotten everyone ready but myself.

I prioritized....and quick. Luckily I was dressed.

Brush teeth.

GROSS! I had grabbed the boys bubble-gum flavored, sparkly toothpaste. Nasty. But at least my teeth were clean.

I flew around the house gathering a few diapers, bibs and spit rags. The last time I left the house without diapers, I found out what can be done with a box of tissue and mom-spit, if the situation requires it. I learned that lesson well, and will never forget diapers again.

I grabbed my shoes. UGH! Chicken poop on the bottom of my shoes!

There was no time left.

I ran out to the car, where my beautiful, snot-smeared and crabby family was waiting for me.

I made a mistake. I ran out to the car with my shoes in my hand, instead of on my feet.

Now there was chicken crap on my sock too.

It's 9:13 and we were going to be late. My husband gave me that look. I'm trapped in the car, so I start thinking.

I am going to church with chicken crap on my shoe and my sock.

(sigh)

At least my teeth are brushed.

I forgot deodorant.

My stomach growls, and I realize I also forgot to eat breakfast.

I am thinking about a Chinese restaurant, and a meal called "Happy Family". I imagine the Waiter with a thick Chinese accent, and a genuine, huge smile with perfect white teeth "You order happy family???"

My husband says, "What is that?", pointing to something slightly shiny smeared on the radio display.

My mind goes blank. I have no idea what that could be. I try to think about what happened the last time I drove the car. OH NO!!! The incident that required tissues and mom-spit!

"It couldn't possibly be baby poop, could it?" (I changed her in the front seat, and it really was a complete and absolute disaster)

He bellows, "You'd better get a Kleenex and some mom-spit and clean that up!"

I'm laughing. I think the whole thing is funny. Seriously funny!

The boys are fighting again. The little one is crying because, "I'm all wet! He sprayed me with a hose!"

I take the pretend hose away from the bigger brother and put it in the glove box. I tell him he can have it back when we get home.

He's too smart for that. He's laughing hysterically, "NOOOOO you don't Mommy!!! It's glued to my hand!!!!

I give up. We're going to church. That's the whole point of church, isn't it? To give it all up...

And we even made it on time. Just barely.

One of the verses we explored in our small group Sunday school was:

Ephesians 4:32 "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you."

I'm sitting here tonight, thinking I'll do my best to remember that one.

And yes, please give me the "Happy Family".

A simple blog title

I have fallen in love with the place God dropped my family two years ago.

The neighbors have open arms. Our little country church, just down the road, is a perfect fit. The space is wide. The air is pure. The serenity and solitude bring peace to my cluttered mind. There is life outside my window. My kids can run. The earth in my garden is fertile. Things grow here. I am ready to put down roots.

Neighbors refer our place as "the old Nichols farm".

As it should, our farm has some history. I love the stories.

Lightening once hit the windmill, followed the water line to the house and blew the plumbing apart in the basement... all moments after a mother pulled her children out of the tub. Old man Nichols foot is fabled to be buried in the backyard. Descriptions of endless snow fill me with terror and admiration. The previous lady of the house thought it was haunted. If it was, my spirited boys must have frightened it away.

Morning after morning I let the chickens out, following a path invaded by weeds and grass. I think of the feet that walked that path before mine. Once upon a time, someone carefully planted the plum trees that we watch with anticipation all summer. I sit on the front steps and look up, amazed at the brilliant stars in such a huge sky. Certainly, a weary farmer sat on those steps in days past, and gazed at the same bright stars. I eat my breakfast while watching the sun rise beyond the windmill, nourishing my body and soul, and feel a connection to the past.

I struggled to create a witty blog title. Then I realized that perhaps, it was quite simple.

What am I likely to write about? Children laughing and fighting, chickens scratching and singing, a garden that grows and gives and dies, yet allows me another chance next year. My life, and my perception of God in the world I am immersed in here. Right here. On the Old Nichols Farm.