Full

With the balmy weather this week, the maple sap has been flowing like mad. When I went to check the trees yesterday, all five buckets were full like this. It took me two trips to haul it all out of the sugar bush.

We've got more than 50 litres of sap already, so I'll start boiling it down today outside over an open fire.

On Wednesday I was hanging out with the bees; today I'm making maple syrup. When the work and school day is done, my family will join me to roast marshmallows around the fire.

This kind of living offers as many challenges as it does joys, and there are days I feel tired and spent and overwhelmed. Then there are days like today when I feel so full -- full of gratitude and love for my life.

Me, versatile?

Lori over at Little Scotia was kind enough to award me with the Versatile Blogger award -- how lovely!

I've never won a blog award before, but I guess there are some "rules" that go along with accepting this.

Rule #1. Link back to the person who gave you the award. See above.

Rule #2. Share seven things that folks may not know about you. I'll get to that in a minute.

Rule #3. Name other bloggers you would like to see win this award.

My seven things:

1.) I'm an only child. I always wanted brothers and sisters growing up but as an adult, I enjoy my alone time and get overwhelmed if I spend too much time with other people outside my immediate family.

2.) I love British mysteries. Love them. My fiction shelves are stacked with titles from Agatha Christie, PD James, Ruth Rendell, Colin Dexter, Caroline Graham, WJ Burley, etc. I'm a big fan of British mysteries movies, too -- I've got stacks of Rosemary & Thyme, Midsomer Murders, Morse, Sherlock Homes, Marple, etc. Lucas often jokes I have the viewing habits of an 80-year-old woman. He may have a point, especially as I often drink tea and knit while watching ones of these DVDs.

3.) I hate to buy things for myself, unless I'm shopping at a thrift store, which I find great fun. That said, I usually spend as much money on books that I do on clothes.

4.) I was given a guitar when I was 16 and I loved it. But back then I was more into the idea of playing the guitar than actually practicing. I sold it to a friend when I was 18. I still regret it.

5.) Some people say I laugh like Alan Alda. I like that. His laugh always makes me smile.

6.) When I was a teenager, I truly believed I was born into the wrong time. I wanted to be a sixties flower child, blissing out at Woodstock and writing bad poetry in Haight-Ashbury.

7.) I have an intense phobia of loose teeth.

Sharing the love:

While there are loads of blogs that I read -- and love -- I'd like to pass on this award to just two people who I've been following since I first started this madcap blogging adventure:

• Erin at Garden now - think later!

• Mama Pea at A Home Grown Journal

These ladies are always teaching me something new, they inspire me, make me laugh and both serve as wonderful and supportive sounding boards for my rants, ramblings and reflections.

Thank you again, Lori!

I only have eyes for ewe

A few weeks ago, a farmer friend (the lovely and knowledgeable Montana Jones of Wholearth Farmstudio) put out a call for volunteers for her annual naked sheep party and spa day.

To say I jumped at the opportunity is something of an understatement. While I think I responded to her request with a perfectly respectable, composed and dignified reply (something like, "I'd love to help out on shearing day -- thanks!"), inside I felt like a crazed school girl, waving her arm in the air while squealing to the teacher, "Pick me, pick me!"

Pick me she did, along with a motley crew of experienced and wannabe farming folks who were all crazy keen to help with with chasing, catching, wrestling, vaccinating, drenching (that was my job, and by the look on my face, I take my job very seriously ) and more wrestling of over 60 Shropshire Sheep in need of their spring haircut.

Photo credit: Karen Caruana, Porcupine Creek Farm

I came home tired, sore, deliciously smelly -- and over-the-moon happy. One day I'll be wrestling my own woolies but in the meantime, I had a great time sharing today with these ones.

Foto Friday -- Spring blessings...

... and Nature's miracles.








Wishing you a joy-filled weekend!

A good day

I've been working in the barnyard for the last few hours: today's gorgeous spring-like weather demands it.

I started at the top of my mental to-do list and managed to check a few quick items off it: re-hang the barn eavestrough, measure for new gates into the back paddock, re-wrap the basswood tree to protect it from donkey chew attacks, dig out the seed trays from the potting shed.

I was alone, but not lonely. I worked slowly and with deliberate intention. Despite having an overwhelming list of tasks that need to be done, I kept my attention to the here and now, simply savouring the deliciousness of the moment. Birdsong filled the air, water drip-drip-dripped into puddles and the muddy earth smelled like promise. And manure.

I'd wrestled with a particularly frustrating morning "at the office," but as I moved through my chores I could feel that part of my world dissolve, easing the stress-filled burden from my neck and shoulders like I'd slipped out of a heavy winter coat. I kept filling my lungs with the breath of spring, and felt taller, stronger and fuller for it.

While I'm very, very fortunate to be able to work from home and make money to help support my family, my part-time job revolves around a world that I've tried to leave behind: one of business and finance. There's also always the sense of working for someone else -- another editor, a publisher -- or something else, namely a paycheque.

But this farming work is all for me and my family. While it's easy to drown in the workload, it's also my salvation. Maybe that's why finishing one job is making me hungry for another, whether I'm cleaning the barn, fixing a fence or marking out a future fruit tree. Or maybe I'm just high on all this spring air. All I know is every time I nurture this piece of Earth that we call home, I feel a shift; an opening towards possibility and the future.

That's a good day, indeed.

Valentine's Day Giveaway

In the spirit of Valentine's Day -- a day that's all about love, love, love! -- I'd like to offer a small token of gratitude for reading about our madcap life here on Rowangarth Farm: one copy of Louise Riotte's garden classic "Carrots Love Tomatoes."


Since its first publication in 1975, gardeners worldwide have learned how companion planting -- growing certain plants in close proximity to one another to help with nutrient uptake, pest control and pollination -- can create a beautiful, healthy and harmonious garden.

In this handy reference book, you'll learn the ABCs of companion planting -- how Absinthium (also called wormwood) makes a great border planting to keep animals out (works well for deer!) and how Yew is susceptible to root rot fungus if grown next to rhododendrons. There are also short chapters on 'Pollination of fruit & nuts', 'Nut trees', 'Fruit tree culture' and 'Poisonous plants.'

To enter, simply leave a comment in today's post (one entry per person, please). A winner will be selected one week from today.

************************ THIS GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED ************************

For my regular readers -- this is simply my way of saying 'thanks' for visiting, for sharing your tips, your stories and your lives.

And if you're a new visitor or if you've never commented before -- please, don't be shy. I'd love to hear from you!

Baking up our own storm

It’s here. Weatherman said there was a big storm coming. It even has a name -- the “Groundhog Day Storm” -- and it’s expected to dump anywhere between 20 cm and 30 cm of snow in 24 hours. It's hitting hit hard and fast. Outside my window the flakes fall and swirl like those from a snow globe; the scene is achingly beautiful, but deceptively treacherous. Snow is blowing into huge drifts, smothering our farm with an icy blanket, finding its way into every crook and cranny. Snow’s tricky that way.

Since moving to the country, the weather has earned my respect for its sheer power, ruthlessness and beauty. A storm like this out here, in the middle of nowhere, is a call to action. We’ve got the pantry stocked, a pile of my dad's homemade beeswax candles at the ready, the barn is battened down and in case the power goes out, the generator is on standby with several jerry cans of fuel.

The whole farm crew is home today – kids have a snow day and Lucas couldn’t get into work. It’s easy to get cabin fever when hankering down under one roof. Our solution? We’re baking up our own storm.

I’ve made some whole wheat date oatmeal cookies…


…and a loaf of Apple-Raisin Spice Bread.


Lucas whipped up his famous (infamous?) Gonky Balls….


… and he’s making some Portuguese corn bread rolls to accompany tonight's vegetarian chili. Comfort food makes everything better, doesn't it?


But the most fun was making these amazing and so simple Wheat Germ Scones.

Here's the recipe:

• 1/2 cup wheat germ, divided
• 1 1/2 cups flour
• 2 tablespoons packed brown sugar
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 6 tablespoons butter
• 1/3 cup currants
• 2 eggs
• 1/4 cup milk

1.) Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Reserve one tablespoon wheat germ. Combine remaining wheat germ, flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a large bowl.

2. Cut in butter with pastry blender (or two knives) until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in currants.

3.) Beat eggs in small bowl. Add milk; beat until well mixed. Reserve 2 tablespoons milk mixture. Add remaining mixture to flour; stir until mixture forms soft dough that leaves the side of the bowl.

4.) Turn out dough onto well-floured surface. Knead.


5.) Roll out dough into 9" by 6" rectangle. Cut down into six (3") squares. Cut each diagonally in half, making 12 triangles.

6.) Place triangles 2" apart on ungreased baking sheet. Brush triangles with reserved milk mixture and sprinkle with wheat germ.

7.) Bake 10 minutes until golden brown. Serve immediately with a dollop of butter. Eat three more in quick succession.


While our backs may ache from shovelling (our plough is in the shop -- brilliant timing, I know!), but we're sure to have full bellies from all this home-baked goodness!

For folks who have to work and travel today, a snowstorm like this can be a major inconvenience and even scary. But on days like this, where there is nowhere else to be but here, I feel such gratitude to have created our own refuge from the storm.

10 simple things

Sara at Farmama inspired me to share a list of 10 simple things that made me happy this week.

While there were so many things that made me happy (what a great lesson in gratitude) these were this week's "top" 10:

1.) Ella skipping. Or more specifically, Ella skipping in her mismatched pyjamas and flip-flops.

2.) Hanging clothes on the line.

3.) Fresh baked yummy goodness.

4.) New blooms

5.) This super quick and easy sewing project.

6.) Collecting eggs from our own hens.

7.) Baseball and home runs!

8.) The joy and wonder of learning to growing our own food.

9.) My eldest child reading stories to my youngest.

10.) Barefoot gardening with kids who like to get dirty.

Oh, and one more... family movie night.


Speaking of family, I can't forget our Henry.


So much for 10 simple things! What made you happy this week?

Madcap Monday - Summer Solstice edition

With the bringing of the Summer Solstice, I thought today's post should celebrate the sacred connection between the earth and the sun, because without the sun nothing would grow.

Ella said she wanted to pretend to be corn so she asked Jack to plant her. He was more than willing to oblige!

Okay, so much for sacred. But it is Madcap Monday, folks!

On a more earnest note, in honour of the longest day of light, I'd like to share one of my favourite poems by Hafez, a 14th century Persian poet:

"Even after all this time
The sun never says to the earth,
"You owe me."

Look what happens with
A love like that...
It lights the whole sky."


Happy Summer Solstice, everyone!

Frustration and a good life lesson

The last few days have been unseasonably hot so I decided not to put the veggies in the garden yet because I figured they'd just fry in the heat. I'd thinned and transplanted some lettuce and radish seedlings just before the searing started and they'd been reduced to little shrivelled vegetable crispies.

Besides I had everything in the garden under control, or so I thought. Lucas had tilled the two new plots a couple of weeks ago and I'd finished hoeing and hand pulling all the remaining roots, grasses, weeds and other assorted nasties just before the weekend.

After a lovely visit with my dad here at the farm earlier this week, I was looking forward to a productive day in the garden, especially since we'd had a big boomer of a thunderstorm last night that broke the heat and gave us some much needed rain.

But what looked like this just a few days ago, perfect for starting seeds...

... looked like this today.

Okay, I'm exaggerating a bit. It didn't look like that... but it almost looked like that.

What it actually looked like was this.


It's hard to see in the photo but the whole area was infiltrated with a massive invasion of grasses and weeds with nasty tentacle-like roots that twisted just beneath the surface.


Okay, you still can't see it really well but trust me, it was bad.

I grabbed my trusty hoe and spent several sweat-filled hours manning an all out offensive against this turf invader. The more I hoed, the more choking roots I uncovered.

I feel like I'm back at square one. There's no way the kids and I can seed this big plot this weekend. I can probably get three of the four smaller beds in and possibly the tomato bed (unless it turns out to be "infested" too) but this one? No way. I don't know when it'll get done but the longer I leave it, the worse it'll get.

As I nattered on to myself, all the usual doubts started creeping in: you can't do this on your own; you have no idea what you're doing; once again, you've bitten off more than you can chew; maybe you should just quit now....

And on and on the mind monkeys chattered.

I was hot and tired and frustrated and upset and above all, thirsty. So I threw down my tools, stomped inside for a drink and quickly realized that it was time to meet Jack from the bus.

So Ella and I walked down the driveway, hand in hand, and chatted about the the simple things in life -- how some frogs make chirpy sounds while others make whirring calls, how many more robins and blue jays and mourning doves and goldfinches we've seen this year, how the gazillion dragonflies that zoomed around our heads were doing such a great job eating mosquitoes for us and wow, can you believe just how blue that sky is and yes, I do think that cloud looks like a airplane.

Minutes later, my blond mop-headed boy sauntered off the bus and made his way up the driveway.

He was interested in two things: visiting his new tree house (more on that soon) and playing a quick game of tennis in the driveway with his sister before sitting down to homework.

He didn't care about the weeds or the garden or the drama that I'd created: he was just happy to be home. Repeat after me: just happy to be home. A good life lesson that, out of the mouth of babes.

I settled the kids with a post school snack and I took my camera back out into the garden so I could capture all the good that's going on in there. Of course the chattering monkeys started droning on about "slim pickings" and "you don't really want to show off photos of YOUR garden, do you?" but damn you monkeys -- at least I have a garden to grumble about!

So while some of the plots are looking at little worse for wear and the paths are a mess and I'm feeling totally overwhelmed and more than just a little inept, I've still got a little bit of good growing.

My peas are starting to climb their trellis.



My spinach is still small but it's coming in. At least, I hope that's spinach. I ate some and it tasted like spinach. Really good spinach. If it's not spinach, don't tell me. Unless it's hemlock or something and then maybe you should drop me a wee FYI note...


The radishes are doing better now that the crow is gone (thanks to Tattie)...

... as is my lettuce.

And I put some more seeds of both in a few days ago.

The garlic is coming along...

... as are my onions.


And I just put in some Red Russian kale transplants...


... as well as some Bright Lights Swiss chard that I got from the farmer's market this past weekend.



So here's the deal: If you've read this blog for more than 10 minutes, you'll know that I tend to be a bit of a drama queen at times. I make mountains over molehills. I sweat the small stuff. I take things too seriously. All the time.

But I also share my life with two little people who know how to bring me back down to earth. They know how to keep it real.

They don't care that other gardens are better or more productive or more beautiful than mine.

They're just happy to be home.

The harder I hold on to the end result of how things are supposed to look in the garden -- or in life -- the more stress I feel and the more I notice what isn't working/right/perfect rather than appreciate and be truly grateful for what is beautiful/wondrous/perfect.

So as frustrating as today was, it was a good reminder to simply do what I can, let go of the result, be grateful of what comes and leave the rest up to Mother Nature. Because really, she's the only one in control here anyways.

Made by hand -- cedar arbour

I've got a new arbour at the front of the house, just waiting to be adorned with beautiful clematis and maybe a rose bush or two.

It's not just any arbour. My husband built this by hand, using materials found on our farm.

It sits just to the left of our house, serving as an inviting entranceway to our future orchard.

That's the corner of my home office there, to the right of the rain barrel.

It's a wonder I get any work done with such a view.

A walk in the woods

Mother, O Mother, come sweep out the barn,
Pull weeds from the garden, or clean up the yard.
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose farm is so shocking?

She's out in the woods, blissfully walking.

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And I'm out in the woods, finding flowers -- it's true.

I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo

Look, Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?

We're skipping with stones and searching for frogs

Shh, there's a turtle asleep near that log.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow

But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down barn chores; weeds go to sleep!

I'm out with my baby and babies don't keep.

(Adapted from "Babies Don't Keep" by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton)