Wasps Are Not the Same As Bees

We had a fun weekend. While the kids were outside playing Bella got stung on the tip of her nose by a wasp. When she came inside she was screaming so loudly I thought she had broken her leg! Apparently someone passing by the house thought something more sinister was going on and called the police! They were very polite and asked to see and talk to her. She showed them her nose but wouldn't tell them what happened. She kept pointing to me and asking me to tell them.
Lily was beside herself the entire time. She thought Bella was in trouble and wouldn't stop crying. She kept telling me she should have gotten stung because she led Bella over to where the wasps were. She had no idea they were there, it wasn't anyone's fault. But she insisted she should have gotten stung.
It made for an interesting Saturday! Bella's eye is swollen but her pediatrician said that's normal.
Jon claims she has middle child syndrome. Both of the middle children in he and I's family have weird things happen to them. Bella has already begun accruing her list of weird maladies. Oh well. They make for great stories!

Not Sure How to Do This Whole "Blogging" Thing

So I got burnt out on blogging when I first started doing it. I thought all my posts had to be deep and meaningful. They needed to make people think. It's hard to have deep thoughts when you have two kids running around. Now I have four of them so there is no way I'm going to have deep thoughts to share. With that in mind, here's a funny tidbit from Lily.

Lily: I want to be a Walking Dead zombie for Halloween. I want a wound on my leg where I was bitten by the living dead!
Me: We can do that. But we don't want you to be too realistic, you'll scare the little kids.
Lily: I want to scare little kids!!

My daughter, the zombie.

Janus Would Have Felt at Home in August Part I

It's funny that January is named for the Greek god of transitions. I've never felt that it really transitioned into anything but the new year. It's still cold (or lukewarm as the case may be), you're still in school and it's not like you're actually going to stick to any resolutions you made. No, if anything I think Janus should become the god of August. August seems an unlikely candidate, but within it's hot steamy depths lies more change than at the bottom of a dilapidated wishing well (oh yes, I just used a cliché). Rather than fill an entire book with one entry I'm going to try and cut everything up and actually blog! Isn't that the point of having this thing?

August sees a change in our relationship with our animals. This is the month we're finally going to process our chickens. We had planned on doing it in June but what with them going to VA we've had to put it on hold. The sweet chicks I left up there have since become monstrous full grown birds and their final fates have been postponed long enough. Out of 75 birds we took to VA, I'm going to be bringing 17 home. Most of those have found permanent new homes in VA but some of them will have found homes in the chest cooler we're bringing with us. This is a huge step for us. This is the first time we're (or actually Jon) going to butcher an animal. Jon had to put a rooster done that had gotten attacked by a raccoon but this isn't the same. We're going to line the roos up and butcher them. My whole life animals have been pets. They were kept for pleasure and served a minimal purpose. The cats helped keep the rodent population down but besides that they were simply there. We're moving from our animals being pets and ornaments to having a purpose. This is a profound thing for me. My entire philosophy on animals has been shifting over the past few years and this is really going to solidify it. The girls desperately want a puppy but I can't decide whether getting one would be a good idea or not. Not because "I have so much other stuff to worry about" or"I don't have a big enough house or yard" but because I don't feel like it would be worth it. What is the purpose of the dog? I feel like if the dog doesn't have a purpose it isn't worth getting. Love and companionship don't cut it for me. I have Jon, I have children. I don't need something else that requires time, energy and emotional involvement that doesn't contribute anything except "unconditional love". But, I also don't feel like we have the area to let the dog have a purpose. What is it going to do, sit outside and watch the chickens to make sure they don't get eaten by hawks? Is it going to herd the bunnies? We don't have acres of field for it to run in and we don't have herds of animals for it to protect. I don't have miles of fence line that need to be maintained and hours of work to do where a silent companion would be appreciated. I have a quarter acre and a house.

Our chickens serve a purpose. They lay eggs and go broody to raise chicks. The extra roos become food for us and protect the flock. When the hens stop laying they too will become food. If they didn't lay or didn't brood there would be no reason to have them. As much fun as they are to watch they're pointless unless they fulfill their God designed role. Our rabbits serve a purpose. They provide copious amounts of fertilizer for us to use in our garden and one day they may provide us with more. The cats... ok well the cats are still kinda pointless. But as is pretty obvious, my thinking has turned a corner. I'm not sure where the change happened. Where I went from wanting every kind of animal imaginable just for the pleasure of having them to wanting an animal only if it worked, but it happened. And I'm not sure if I want to change it back.
It's only five days in and already the month of change has me in it's grips.

Only by the Lord's mercy and grace,
Nicole

Semi-Libertarian Code Enforcers

I went today to speak with the code enforcement officer about our contraband chickens. As I expected he said someone reported the neighborhood for various violations (most likely the school board) and he had to come through and harass everyone. "You are not the major concern in that neighborhood" is what he said. When he came to our house and found the weeds a little untrimmed and a few piles of lumber that are considered nuisances he wrote us up for them. Had we kept the birds in the back yard he would not have gigged us for them. But because they were up front where there's "no reasonable expectation of privacy" he had to do something.

"I have better things to do than get warrants to search your backyard for chickens. I am not going to bother you about what you are doing in the privacy of your backyard. So ::lowering his voice:: if you want to get a few hens and keep them in the backyard I'm not going to bother you, just don't get any noisy roosters. This conversation never happened."

We will keep one rooster, and some hens. In the backyard of course... :>)

Too long since an update!

It's been a long time since an update. Things have been busy of course. We expanded out the garden in the back and created one in the front. We started to permiscape the front as well. The less grass I have to mow, the better! I'll post more on the garden later. Not much later I promise.

On the chicken front, we purchased several breeds of meat and dual purpose birds in February. The intent was to breed the biggest ones into a strain of birds suitable for eating and making eggs, you know, what chickens were meant for. Every week we've weighed them, sold some, purchased more, and looked forward to the goal of processing at the end of this month.

Well, the town animal control officer/code enforcement officer/sewer assessment officer (I suppose three titles makes him think he's three times important) decided to crack down on our neighborhood. It seems there's an ordinance tucked away in the county by-laws that limits the number of animals outside your house to four. And no livestock.... apparently it matters not if there is a complaint by neighbors, or if your animals are even publicly visible, you have contraband if you have chickens. He also cracked down on un-manicured lawns in the neighborhood, overabundances of lawn furniture (no, you can't have people hanging out at your house!), and other such pesky things.

Now, the nasty certified letter might not have been so bad, but it came on a day I left to fight fires in the Okefenokee Swamp. I don't have time to worry about some Poindexter's crackdown on our neighborhood. So Nicole handled getting all the birds out while she herself prepared for a trip north for two weeks. Once we both return from our adventures away from home I plan to go down the town hall with a letter from my neighbors stating they don't mind the "livestock" and see what kind of deal I can work out with the town spoilsport.

It's a setback, but it may be a push in a good direction. We'll be looking at land elsewhere because of this. Hopefully the housing market won't be too much of a bust on our ability to move.

Forgive the sloppy writing. We've been on nightshifts on this fire. Last night was a 5 PM to 6 AM shift... I'm feeling a little sleepy :>P

Drowning in Blessings

Christmas has come and gone again and I'm left wondering if perhaps the Puritans were right in avoiding the celebration.

In those days it was the pagan subtext which troubled their consciences. In these days it's a new paganism, a consumerist paganism. With each Christmas comes the earlier and earlier shopping season, the rush to buy the latest new gadget or trinket, and the desire to outdo all others with our gift-giving prowess. Christmas comes and we rip into our toys, oftentimes we are disappointed, or overwhelmed, or perhaps underwhelmed at our loot. We silently feel gipped when someone we spent so much on gives us something worthless. We (perhaps only outwardly) withhold our anger when the recipient of our well-thought-out gift doesn't stand up with great joy and pronounce us the greatest gift-giver ever.

Our pride expects more gifts and more praise than we deserve. It further drives us to cling to the ever-present thought that the more we get the more we are loved, and the more we give to others the more they will love us.

Once again our children are buried in well-intentioned gifts and the house becomes a volcano of toys and clothing erupting uncontrollably until at least June, when their weary parents are finally able to dig their way to a closet and force everything into it.

Maybe it's my pragmatism, maybe it's my growing disdain for our wasteful materialistic culture, but I'm leaning more and more towards that Puritan way of thinking. I have been seeking to eliminate the useless in my life, to rid myself of sentimental attachments to things. Our home (and my parents' storage room) is cluttered enough with the remains of my pack-rat childhood to accept any more non-essentials. While I am no less thankful for the gifts I received, my mind is troubled with the question of what to do with the less practical ones.

Please, dear family and friends, if you love them and value my sanity, next year, buy my children something useful, invest in their education, or invest in their spiritual growth. If you must get them toys practice good economics and buy fewer. Scarcity gives objects value, even children understand this. They will cherish what they receive more if they are not dividing their attention over a million trinkets. They will be far less careless in their treatment of their gifts, your wallet will remain intact, and my house will not be buried in three feet of Chinese plastics. I believe everyone wins. :>D

But Christmas is a time with family, and a time to recognize the gift of Christ, both good things that I would like my children to be involved in. So it will remain a celebrated holiday in my house. I am thankful to be drowning in blessings (even the impractical ones), and I pray that I am able to sort them out before the next Christmas blizzard comes.

Meet The Chooks

From top to bottom, left to right:

Martha- Silver-laced Wyandotte, so named because “Gwen” did not fit her New England snobbishness.

Sadie- Australorp, our best layer outside of the reds, but not much personality.

Anon Red- RIR

Jack- Barred Rock mutt, the friendly if not-too-smart roo that has become the Alpha male to most of the hens

Rufio- Polish/Australorp mutt, also called “Dragon” by the girls, the bottom roo, has a few of the ladies, spends most of his time running from Jack

Princess- Barred Rock, sweet natured and pretty

Paresseaux- Black Copper Marans, her name means “lazy” which she was as a chick. She’s always checking to see if you have food and will try to eat anything shiny. She has the most distinct voice of all the birds, which she pretty much only uses to curse you when you pick her up.

Dagny- Buff Orpington, perhaps the most curious bird next to One Eye, has to be in the way during all outside projects.

One Eye- RIR, so called because of her lazy lid. She was purchased with the other reds as an older group. We will never know what brave or stupid act led to her droopy eyelid. One of the friendliest of the flock, she’s also very possessive of her eggs.

Moxy- Easter-egger, lays green eggs, probably the most tame and sweetest natured of the birds, despite her angry eagle face. Every evil villain should have a bird like Moxy; forget cats!

Sofie- Mutt, yeah, she’s there

Jill- Mutt with Barred Rock, I haven’t quite figured her out yet, but we had to clip her wings because she kept finding her way into the front yard. She would sit on the front porch and scream at us.

Big Red- RIR, she, along with Anon 1 and Anon 2, is pretty much indistinct, but they lay pretty eggs!

Anon Red 2- RIR

The Ugly One- RIR? So called because she is the ugliest bird we’ve seen… ever

Ginger- RIR mutt, named after the Chicken Run chicken because she attempted multiple times to escape her first week with us. She is one of my (Nicole) favorites. She was debeaked as a baby but is super sweet and very curious.

Next we'll show how we built the coop, and introduce the new birds :>)

Better be silent...

After a week and a half of hard freezes here in Florida there's not much to report except that my kitchen has been inhabited by 25 pepper plant, two citrus trees, and an assortment of herbs and is feeling awfully crowded! We had planned on harvesting some pie pumpkins in January (a little late for holidays, but who says pumpkin pie is just for Thanksgiving?) but those were wiped out, along with the slow growing corn. After a sustained drought slowed germination this early cold was a double blow.

The good news is that there will be more time to let the garden go fallow and to amend the soil. We'll also be able to let the chickens weed the area and process their pickings into fertilizer :>)

Now a rant...

I often wonder if the seemingly un-opinionated moderates I know are simply following the old adage "Better to stay silent and be thought a fool than to open one's mouth and prove it."

In my view an unspoken opinion is about as valuable as no opinion at all. If you (you know who you are) have an opinion you would be wise to speak it. Any woman worth marrying will value your opinion and will ask for it on occasion. You must be able to speak it honestly and forthrightly. She will not want your advice, just your opinion, there is a difference. Learn it.

If you have no opinion it is far better to say "I have no opinion" than to either give the illusion of agreement or an air of foolishness.

If you stay silent for fear of upsetting my sensibilities I must correct you. I have no sensibilities. You should have figured this out quite quickly upon meeting me. I am convicted enough in my opinions to take no offense to you having yours. If they contradict mine, it is simply because you are wrong.

If you stay silent for fear of your own temper you should consider your temper an enemy. It is either covering for an opinion held without conviction or it is hiding an overdeveloped sense of self. Firm up your convictions; if this does not quiet your temper, consider lowering yourself down to the level of us mere mortals.

Opinions about sports or other diversionary recreations are trivial. They do not contribute to building the character of your children or their children or the structure of society. If these are the only opinions you have or are willing to share you ought to re-prioritize your life.

Just a few observations, not meant to startle anyone's sensibilities.

Chicken Math

I feel like I'm about to break some sort of sacred blog rule by posting an entry immediately following my husband's; but hey, I'm a newbie when it comes to the whole blog thing so I'm sure everyone can forgive me. 

I love math. If there was any sort of future for math majors besides teaching or.... I don't know what, I might have gone to college for math. But, even with my love of math, there was one mathematical principle that was unknown to me until just recently: Chicken Math. That wonderful exponential equation where a person starts out with say 1 to 6 chickens and then quite quickly ends up with enough to warrant fencing in more of their property. It seems like life in general is under the same equation that relates to Chicken Math. You start out with one, small idea and quicker than you realize it expands and begins to take over your whole life. This can be good or bad. I pray that in my case it's a good thing.

My small idea began with bread. After casually trying to read the list of ingredients in our generic white bread and realizing I couldn't, easily anyway, that got me to thinking. How much of the stuff in this bread is necessary? How much of it is to make sure it'll stay fresh for a month or to add back all the good vitamins and minerals that where bleached out while making it? Do I really need to be eating this stuff? And what about my kids? What would eating this stuff do to my kids? I'd been eating it my whole life and look at me! ; ) So I began looking into making bread. What was so difficult and mysterious about this process that no one I knew did it? Want some biscuits? Ether grab a box of Bisquick or, easier still, just pop open a terrifying container of already made buttery biscuits and put them in the oven! : D I expected to find that it involved some hard to find or expensive ingredient, or that it involved an expensive piece of equipment to accomplish; but it didn't. All I needed was to mix flour, yeast, sugar, milk and butter in the appropriate amounts and I got dough! Now it did involve a little time, roughly an hour of actual labor and several of inactivity, but over all it was pretty easy. So why is it that more people don't bake their own bread? Why is it so many people live their whole lives without knowing how wonderful it is to sink your hands into warm dough and knead it to a perfect soft smooth consistency. It's one of the most therapeutic experiences imaginable. Can they honestly not care? Are they really content to go to the store and purchase bread with no clue where the ingredients it contains came from? Do they not think about the fact that that bread has probably never been touched by human hands? Do they ever wonder how their great grandparents and their parents before them got bread? I honestly don't know. I hope that they think about those things and more as they contemplate the choices they make when they shop for the food that is going to feed their families. That they remember, everything they put in or on their bodies is taken in and used to build them. We are made from the food we eat. Our bodies break down our food and use it to rebuild cells that need repair and to make new ones that have died. When my daughter was born she had never tasted food. She was made, 100%, from the food choices I made while pregnant. We joke that when our children were born they were made from Wendy's, but what does that say about us? Wouldn't it be better to say that when our children were born they were made from fruits and vegetables that we'd grown in our yard? That the proteins in their bodies came from the chickens, turkeys, pigs and cows that we had carefully raised on our pastures then processed with our own hands? I think it would. 

And there goes that Chicken Math. You start out with bread and you end up with your entire view on food and what it is flipped upside down. One small and surprisingly simple thing making you re-think your entire way of life. With the Lord's strength and guidance I pray that it won't simply end with thinking. 

Only by the Lord's mercy and grace,

Nicole

A Beginning: Somewhere in the middle

After reading the blogs of several others who share our passions for an self-reliant, agrarian, Spirit-filled life we felt it was high time to put our journey into a blog.

I'm Jon, just shy of 26, and I'm married to my high school love, Nicole, who's not too much younger. We've been blessed with three beautiful daughters, L 4, B 2, and K 6 weeks. While they take up most of our time we hope to occasionally find time to post on here.

I developed a love for the outdoors in my days in Scouts. During those days I dreamed of being a chef and owning a restaurant. My love for the outdoors was not considered "profitable" so it was placed in the "hobbies" category of my life. I started college fully intent on a degree in business management.  Once I discovered the short-sightedness of my classmates and after taking dendrology as an elective (who does that?) Providence, and prodding from Nicole, led me to a new career path in forestry. Land management combined my love of the outdoors with my desire to control my surroundings. That and I was making an impact on the world that lasts far longer than the next quarter.

Upon graduation, I, the young idealist, went to work for state government in a state 4 states to the south of my roots. The outdoors became my office, I was at the bottom of the totem pole, and all that mattered was pushing out next year's timber sales. So much for long term thinking and being my own boss. Pine plantations were a foreign outdoors to me, so my love was replaced with a semi-apathy.

Youthful ambition can lead to a dangerous disappointment when reality replaces its idealism. In my shock I settled down into the normal American lifestyle. I was already married, with one child, and a career, so I took the next plunge and bought a house. We took on a mortgage with gusto (and a little help from the government), a car payment, and a few credit card debts. We ate hamburger helper, store-baked bread, and far more fast-food than any small country could handle. I went to my job, 8-5, Monday to Friday. After work, there was four hours with the now two children and one very frazzled wife, some tv, a bit of internet, bed, and repeat. Thus was our modern American life.

Now, about 80% of that is still true. I still have my mortgage, my car payment, my credit card debt; I still spend the vast majority of my time away from my family, and we still eat far more fast-food than we should. But something changed in the last year or so. A desire to avoid the materialist debt trap of my fellow countrymen developed. The desire to be my own employer reared its head again. A new idealism took form in my mind.

Back in college I invited my wife on a class tour that would have far more of an effect on me than I ever imagined. My Forest Operations class routinely visited logging sites to teach us about the various methods of logging. This time is was horse-logging. I figured she like horses, so why not invite her. The impact was not known then, but this tour would plant a seed that would only germinate after several seasons of scarification. I plotted in my head the path to a horse-logger career: I would graduate and while she finished up her last year of school I would take the apprenticeship and learn the trade, then we would face the great unknown, hand-in-hand. God had other ideas.

Two weeks after the tour she woke me up with the news that we were expecting our first child.

My mind quickly changed gears, I would not go the unknown route, I would take the safe route. I would do the standard "get a degree, get a career, buy a house, settle for security" route. Only after two years of taking this route would I realize the liberty I had sacrificed. I was now tied to a house, tied to my debts, fully reliant on others for my subsistence, and at the whim of any financial disaster brought about by the embrace of Keynesian economics.

The dream to be a horse-logger came back to life, and along with it a desire to do for ourselves all that we are able. We started cooking from scratch, planted a garden, bought chickens, read more about off-grid living than anyone should, and a variety of other things. There are still debts to be paid, skills to be learned, character to be developed, and tons of logistics to figure. Thus, we are somewhere in the middle of our transformation from suburbanite consumer to rural producer.

This is our story of the rest of that journey, if God wills it.