The Chicks Are Here!

Our new chicks arrived today!  We picked them up at the post office early this afternoon.  I wasn't expecting them until Wednesday or Thursday of this week, but today worked out well because our oldest, C., was home sick. (Probably more like a mental health day, but she complained of tummy issues.  Nothing a delivery of new chicks can't fix!)

But first let's back up a bit and talk about preparations.

This weekend I had my two younger assistants wash out the waterer (above, in two parts) and the chick feeder, which is a metal base that screws onto a quart jar.  I also got out our clip-on lamp with a 100W light bulb (not fluorescent, you want the heat).  We also have on hand a 25 pound bag of food, specifically, medicated chick grower mash (meaning powdery, like corn meal).

Late last week I went to Home Depot and asked the nice greeter there for a BIG box (holding my arms out wide).  He directed me to the moving box department, and I said, "No, bigger, like what a grill comes in."  When he gave me a funny look I had to 'fess up and divulge what I wanted to do with such a big box.  He shrugged when I told him I wanted to start chicks in it.  He's probably heard lots of strange things to do with boxes, this being on the tamer side.  I think it helped my cause that I had my cute youngest assistant with me.  The nice gentleman in receiving hooked me up with a box that is probably 5 feet by two feet and two feet tall with nice flaps.  It is a little narrow, but it will do, especially since it was free!

I taped the bottom up with packing tape and lined the floor of the box with newspapers.  Extra points if you can find a photo of your favorite politician to line the box!  For the first few days we put down a layer of paper towels, because the newspaper can be a little rough for the little chickies' feet.

What you don't hear from these photos is the little "peep-peep-peep" emanating from the box.  It makes you smile.

There are five chicks in this delivery, one is hiding in the back.  The white packs in the front are little heat packs.  Day-old chicks can be shipped in the mail because for the first day or so they live off their yolk sac that they ingest right before they hatch.  These ladies must have hatched out late Sunday and early Monday, checked to make sure they're females (I ordered all females) and popped into the box for overnight delivery.  They just need to be kept warm, and the more the merrier in the box.  Meyer Hatchery, where we got this order, has a minimum order of 3 chicks, and many hatcheries are catering to backyard flocks by facilitating small orders like this.  Murray McMurray Hatchery, where Martha Stewart gets her chicks, has a minimum order of 25.  That's a lot of eggs.  By the way, you don't need a rooster if you want eggs.  If you want chicks, you need a rooster!

All loaded into their new home!  When I first put them in, I dip their beaks into the water so they know where it is.  We got 5 different varieties this time.  It is so hard to choose!  From the top going clockwise, the light yellow chick is a Buff Orpington, the reddish tan one is a Rhode Island Red, the next darker tan is a Partridge Rock, the black one is a Barred Rock (like our first batch in 2007), and the tan striped one is a Ameraucana.  They all lay brown eggs except the Ameraucana, which lays tinted blue, greenish and brown eggs.  They are all supposed to be hardy for our climate and good layers at about 4-6 eggs per week each when they reach egg-laying age at about 5 months.

They found the food pretty quickly and dove in, sometimes literally!  I put some chicken vitamins in the water for the first few days, which is why it looks like Mountain Dew in these photos.  I had to reintroduce them to the water after they found the food, and they caught on to drinking quickly.  Soon the paper towels showed evidence of a working digestive system, a good sign.  It's all very cute now but it gets a little messy for a cardboard box in a few weeks.

Hey chickie!

Spring Awakening



Finally! Some decent spring weather.  The snow has melted (the second snowiest on record in Connecticut this year), and today was the day to get outside and start digging in the dirt.  The four raised bed boxes next to the garage we put in a few years ago, and John "refreshed" them with two tractor-scoops of -ahem- rotted manure we had delivered in the driveway last week.  It was my job today to spread it around to all the boxes. 



 Peter's scarecrow that got 2nd place at the Durham Fair last September kept watch all winter and served as a snow gauge.  At one point his head was buried. 



I'm coooold!

These boxes on the other side of the driveway get lots of sun and usually the tomatoes go here, hence the cages. Finding sunny spots on our property that aren't in the middle of the yard has been surprisingly difficult. But it's a little chilly to plant tomatoes today, so we'll return to this spot later.



So while doing the grocery shopping today I picked up a lovely package of snow peas.  Mmmm.  However, they were something like $5 for 1/2 pound and had come all the way from Guatemala.  Ack!  I can wait for snow peas, so I picked up this package of seeds in the floral department.  The package says I have to wait 68 days.  Early June maybe?  (Like my new gloves?  John ran over my old ones last fall with the mower on the tractor.  Oops.)

In they went, down the line, with a piece of cattle fencing propped against the garage wall for them to climb up.

And look at this!  The garlic I planted last fall survived, doing its thing under all that snow.  I've never planted garlic before, so this is an experiment.  So far, so good.

The last box is the herb box.  Chives, tarragon and oregano are coming up.  There's room for some other things, maybe dill, parsley and what else? The small kitchen garden is my area.  I enjoy having it close to the house so I can run out and pick some veggies for dinner.

John, on the other hand, has had bigger plans.  And of course it involves power tools and a tractor.  And burning stuff.  Last year he cleared some trees on the top of our hill and made the garden behind him here.  We planted pumpkins and gourds last year, which worked well because the vines could spread all over, didn't need irrigation or much attention, and in the fall we had a great harvest:

But despite taking down several trees, the remaining ones made it a little shady.  So over the past few weekends he took down some more trees and made more garden:

Last year's garden has the rows going straight back.  This year's garden addition has rows perpendicular and behind the stakes back there.  I think he doubled the size of last year's. The dirt pile on the right is the remainder of the cow manure pile that was in the driveway last week.  He only put the "good dirt" in the rows where we'll plant stuff, not between the rows where we'll walk.  I've seen a few ideas of what he's going to plant here, and he's bought some seeds, but I'm not sure of the master plan.  There are some raspberries planted in a row left of center, and on the far left I planted about 25 feet of potatoes last week.  Too early?  I hope not.

I was all set to plant the 5 pounds of Red Norland seed potatoes in one of the big garden's 50 foot rows, until I read the directions and realized that they should be cut up into smaller pieces and let the cut pieces dry a few days.  So, planting will be another day.

Relaunch

New design. New projects to document. It's time to dust this thing off and restart. Stay tuned.

Smile (Mostly) During the Holiday Rush

It's been crazy around here in advance of Christmas. I hope everyone else is keeping their head on. It's snowing here-- 8 to 10 inches expected -- and my husband is flying back from a week in California today. Right now I think he's sitting on a runway in Houston. Yippee.

Anyway, here is an out-take from our Christmas card photos. This almost made the card, but we decided to go with something a little more traditional.

formatting courtesy of Despair.com

Thanksgiving 2008: A Somewhat Local Feast

I didn't realize I was so on the cutting edge, but this Thanksgiving I decided to try a heritage breed turkey for Thanksgiving, and when visiting the City Seed Farmer's Market in New Haven in October, I jumped at the chance to order a local turkey from Northfordy Farm in Northford, CT. Peter the farmer said his turkeys were Narragansett. Perfect!

Then, City Seed's weekly email highlighted a recent article in the New York Times about Connecticut eaters flocking to local food sources, especially for Thanksgiving turkeys. I'm glad I got my order in early! Read the article here. (It even lists a farm stand on Daniels Farm Road, the road where my grandfather grew up in Trumbull, CT. The road is all housing developments now, but apparently there's still some farmland. I'll have to check it out soon.)

Last year I ordered a turkey from Gozzi's in Guilford, and their birds are the standard white breed. I didn't notice much difference in taste from a supermarket turkey, but I did take comfort in knowing where my food came from.

Last year's recipe involved brining the bird for a day ahead of time. It was very good, but very involved. First, a turkey wing poked a hole in the brining bag, so I had salty spiced iced water dripping into the cooler I had decided to put the large bird in. Fortunately I had the foresight to figure that a bag with a turkey and a few gallons of salty water would not fit on the bottom shelf of the fridge. But I worried about keeping the turkey cold enough in the cooler in the garage when the outside temperature wasn't very cold. That was last year.

This year, I went with a simpler recipe from Martha Stewart's Everyday Food. We picked the 17 pound turkey up on Wednesday, so brining was out of the question. The mustard and brown sugar glazed turkey was moist and delicious!

The heritage breed tasted "turkier" than supermarket turkey--the white meat wasn't as white and the dark meat was pretty dark, but not gamey.

Not everything was local, but we tried:

Pleasant Cow Cheese, Sankow's Beaver Brook Farm, Lyme, CT

Goat Cheese, Northfordy Farm, Northford, CT
Heritage Breed Turkey, Northfordy Farm, Northford, CT

Potatoes, Maine

Apples for homemade apple pie, Lyman Orchards

Rhubarb for homemade rhubarb pie, Olde Gate Farm, Wallingford, CT

We didn't have a big group this year, just my husband's parents and brother, but it was a lovely and relaxing day.

I think a good meal was had by all, from oldest to youngest.

And by 6pm, the guests had left, the dishes were mostly done, and the beginnings of turkey soup were simmering on the stove.

And by the way, the turkey enchiladas we had tonight (with another batch in the freezer for another dinner) were a good way to sneak the leftovers upon those who protest, "Oh yuck! Not turkey AGAIN!!"

How was your Thanksgiving?

And Then There Were 4

A hawk got another chicken this morning. I saw it alight on a maple tree branch at about 10 am (and its legs had a pinkish hue), looked at the chicken coop and there were lots of feathers outside the enclosed coop area. There were feathers inside the coop, too, so I think the hawk went in the coop, dragged out the chicken and had a snack. A hawk leaves most of the body alone, preferring the neck.

We've gone 18 months with 6 chickens, but now our neighborhood raptor has learned where and how to snack on them. Our 4 remaining chickens will spend their days in the covered coop for a while. I'm researching baffles and other types of hawk protection. Bummer

And Then There Were 5

Sad news to report--on Thursday morning when Charlotte went to open the chickens, she found one dead under the house part of the coop. This was "Baldy" so named because she was at the bottom of the pecking order and had a bald head from being picked on.

We're not sure what happened. Maybe it was a hawk, or maybe her friends ganged up on her, or maybe she was sick. I was filling their feed hopper on Wednesday afternoon at about 3pm and didn't notice anything unusual, so I was as surprised as Charlotte to see one dead Thursday morning.

Sad, but as our wise blogging friends over at Sugar Creek Farm remind us, "If you're going to have livestock, you're also going to have dead stock."

It's a Lot of Work to be a Baby

"Spike" hasn't had much blog facetime in his seven months. That could be due to the fact that when he's asleep I find it is easier to run and grab the camera when I'm doing something with the other two kids and might have an extra hand to snap a picture.

Or it could be because when he's awake he's waaay to cute and fun to put down so that I can grab the camera and capture the memory.

But I wish we could bottle this babyness.

Oh, but his look is high maintenance. Look at those lashes--do you know how hard it is to get an eyelash curler on a baby?

And what's the secret to baby-soft skin? I find a regular application of yogurt keeps it soft and supple.

Happy Halloween!

A Friday night Halloween works well, don't you think?

When my two brothers and I were growing up, apparently Halloween was not my mother's favorite holiday, although I was shocked when I learned this in my early twenties. When I think back, this explains the trusty paper bag costumes that Mom pulled out of the closet for my brother and me (I don't think the bags lasted to my younger brother) and dutifully taped up each year after a night of Halloweening.

[In my family, somehow Halloween became a verb--you go Halloweening and the people at your door are Halloweeners. How did this happen?]

I remember having the choice of an orange lion with a yellow mane or a green alligator. They were clever paper bags that would cover a child from head to knees with a hole for your face and holes for your arms. And large enough to wear a warm coat underneath. But no kick pleat, therefore the obligatory taping.

Fast forward to now--three kids age 8, 3 and 7 months. Dinnertime, darkness, excitement. Funny clothes, cold weather and flashlights.

Decorating involving scooping the guts and seeds from a large vegetable and cutting with sharp knives. I am beginning to know where my mother was coming from.

This is a tricky holiday with kids.

This holiday is a treat for kids.

You get to cut up a humongous vegetable and your mother doesn't even want you to eat it!

You get to collect and eat LOTS of candy that is normally not allowed:

You get to wear outfits are out of the ordinary and you might even get to draw on your face. What's not to love?

We hope all you Halloweeners had an excellent time Halloweening!

Frosty

Stick a fork in the growing season--it's done. We had a frost Sunday night and it was cold again last night. I hope we'll still have Swiss chard for a while since it doesn't mind the cold too much and I've covered it the past few nights.

I love the hoar frost on the plants in the morning. Have to be quick though--it doesn't linger in the early morning sun.

Working Hard or Hardly Working?

We've been working hard on house projects this fall, due in large part to the fact that John--no, MacGuyver--had a month off between his recent monumental job change. After 14 years at his former employer, he has embarked upon a career at a new company. They were so happy to have him that they sent a potted plant! He has now started at his new job and loves it.

But anyway, one of his projects during his "vacation" involved a large load of gravel, which showed up about day 5. I happened to be on a very important phone call when this truck showed up. It is hard to have a very important phone call when a ten ton truck is dumping in your driveway.

And when there is a large load of gravel in the driveway, one must get out one's digger to move it:

Yeah, it took a while....

A Paris Egg Man

One of my favorite blogs, In the Kitchen and On the Road by cookbook author and chef Dorie Greenspan, the other day talked about getting extra-frais eggs from her egg man while she stays at her pied-a-terre in Paris. (Yes, she leads an interesting life)

It turns out the French classify eggs as extra-frais up to nine days after they are laid. My fridge is packed with extra-frais eggs because I'm the only one who eats eggs around here not baked in cakes or otherwise hidden. I give at least a dozen away per week, and I get nervous if I know I have "older" eggs that are getting on to be a week old.

Check out Dorie's post. You'll want to leave for Paris on the next flight.

I Can See Clearly Now...

I've found the solution to cleaning windows--get new ones!!


Well, not really, because the new ones don't come in especially sparkly.
Let me explain.

When we moved in five years ago, the first house projects we tackled were the downstairs hallway and the two rooms off the hall--the living room and dining room. This included John completely replacing the older windows with new Pella windows. Very nice.


Each window took about 8 hours to completely rip out and install the new one, including fitting the siding around the window trim. This was such a big job that he then took a few years off from window replacement.



Well, he did install the big 7 foot triple window in our living room, but that was *just* one (BIG) window.



The upstairs windows were nearing the end of their useful lives. The muntins that divide the windows into panes were constantly falling out and breaking, the sills were rotting on some, and I never cleaned them because I knew we were going to get new ones. Well, if I knew it was going to be five years, I might have cleaned them in year 2. But don't hold me to that. Hindsight is 20/20, right?



Anyway, this summer we bit the bullet and ordered 7 new windows for upstairs. Five across the front and two on the side. And John --gasp!-- agreed that life would be smoother if we paid to have them installed. Painful, especially for him, but worth it to me that we wouldn't live in the Land of the Blue Tarp Over The Windows while he worked his way around to each window.

So last month, they came, they ripped out, and installed 7 weathertight, non-rotten, pristine new windows. All 7 in 8 hours! With three guys, of course.


The rooms were very open and airy with the windows out. It also was a beautiful, bright, clear, breezy day. The type of day that makes you think, "Hey, windows are over-rated. I like this breezy openness. Maybe we don't need windows!" Then I remembered that I don't like snow in my bedroom. Nor lots of bugs. And I hate 95 degrees and 95% humidity. And I really don't want to constantly worry about little people falling out of windows.

So I kept my bright ideas to myself.

But we (read: John) still have some interior trim to do. No way could the installers do that to John's specs.

Before (August, 2003):

After (September, 2008):

I've gotten used to the house without shutters, but it looks kind of bare. What do you think? Should we put some shutters back on?