New Life Old Farmers

The story of the city mouse and the country mouse came to my mind a bit this weekend, as my Seattle City Cousin and daughter came to spend the weekend with us.  The great thing about cousins is that they have known us and our family (duh) forever.  The Seattle City Cousin kept muttering “I still can’t get my head around that you live in Ellensburg…in the country.”  This is a bit of a double ‘whammy” for her, she’s known me all my life as the So. California cousin who lives in a suburb of LA with curbs, traffic, smog, Disneyland etc.  As a Washingtonian she ‘knew’ Ellensburg…well, not exactly…she’s driven by it on the highway and stopped at Dairy Queen…but learned to her surprise…”Oh, who knew, Ellensburg is cute”… oh, yes it is.

I do not know, if it is all Seattle City people or just my cousins, but in order to get them out of the city and over the hill/mountain to the country takes a lot of careful planning.

1.  The weather must be cool, not hot, rainy is okay (they are used to that), but they tend to melt in hot weather, so they waited for a beautiful September weekend to come and it was…not hot…it was scorching and sweaty.  The only thing that wanted to move about this weekend were the flies and there were plenty of them, we were on them with the battery-powered fly zapper, rejoiced at each sizzling zap, but still barely made a dent in the disgusting population.

2.  They are prepared.  Four pairs of shoes each…slippers, sandals, boots (well, rain boots), sneakers… and a light jacket.  My Seattle City Cousin and I went into town so I could show her how cute it is and she brought her jacket.  She wanted to be ‘prepared’…I said…you really are from Seattle…it is 95 degrees…it is not going to rain…and we laughed…because that is what cousins do.

3.  They stop at See’s.  ♥  Not only do they stop, but because they are planners, they called… and said important stuff like…’exactly what kind of See’s candies are your favorite?’  They get it.  We live far away and things like See’s candy should not be left for a random selection.  (Dark chocolate..chews…uhmmm!)  They came with an empty egg carton to take away full with our fresh eggs.  Brought an ice chest with a beautiful salmon they caught in it for us and left with it full of fresh vegetables each delighted with the shared bounty.

They got here just as we’d unloaded and revved up our new tool.  I told her to jump on the back and I’d take her for a spin and since the sticker on our tool that says do not ride passengers is now worn off, it must be okay.  We went zipping around the yard, squealing with fun like the kids we used to be, imagining our mothers (sisters) shaking their heads.  The timing was pretty good on our end as well, as they’d been here about 20 minutes before they were handed a pair of gloves and invited to join a ‘fire brigade’ as 2 cords of wood were delivered and needed to be stacked in the wood shed.  Welcome to our life.

There was croquet where they not only came in second and third (darn Number Two is on a roll), but earned the straw hat point as well.

I took the young horse lover on a trail ride, while my Seattle City Cousin took pictures.  As I tacked the horses and got all ready, I said, if you want to be amazed that I live here and drive tractors, be even more amazed that I have learned so much about the horses, (I am).  I was glad to take our younger cousin on a long trail ride, as when I was a child it meant so much to me when given the chance to ride.

The City Cousins saw that we tend to go to bed early, and it has been awhile since we Country Cousins stayed up late playing cards.  The card playing is a family tradition, that perhaps will return in the winter, but for now…

I have been wanting to share the farm with them, grateful that they are just over the hill and able to share fish, veggies and See’s!  We share grandparents, Uncles and Aunts and a host of other cousins.  We share a history, knowledge of parents now gone.  With this Seattle City Cousin we share a faith…a deep belief in the grace of our God (who loves us with all our goofiness) and over all the things we share…for me this is rare in my family and it is this that I am most especially grateful for…

I was much better prepared for my second farm auction.  I knew stuff.  Important stuff, like wear a hat, drive the truck, bring your check book, stay in control (do not get carried away, by the need to ‘win’, ‘win’, ‘win’ at bidding on stuff you do not need), and it is only a ‘deal’ if you need it.  I knew also, that farm auctions are great for people watching country-style…

Dad’s set to bid, even if it was his day to watch the baby.

No problem, she’s got a hat and her camo dress..it is all good.

Overalls…

Plenty of father & son teams.

Farm auctions tend to remind me… I’ve definitely lived in the city most of my life.  I did not laugh out loud when I saw these giant geese hunting ‘blinds’, but I am laughing….still.  The hunter hides inside these big fake geese.  It does make me wonder…just how dumb are geese?  The propane heater is in the picture, so you can appreciate just how big the fake geese are.  Yes, they sold…no, I did not bid on them…we only bid on ‘stuff’ we needed.

Everything sells.  It has to… the auctioneer makes it so.  On the rare items that no one wanted, say the toilet infested with wasps, the auctioneer adds it to an item people do want and they have to take it all.  Pretty tricky… he probably learned it from his mom…she might have said something like…”No dessert without eating your vegetables”…..”no box of wire without the toilet”.

This auction crew, they were sharp, quick and made me slightly nervous.  I did my best to not stand out, which being one of the few women there and being a tad tall, is not so easy to do.  I was very careful to not look anyone in the eye…scratch my nose or wave to anyone I might possibly know!  If you were there and I ignored you, please accept my apologies, I was just scared I’d be paying $5,000 for used cattle gates.

Everything from the nuts and bolts to the tractors and trailers… all get sold, but I was not even interested,  Jubal and I we still are a team.  Although, I did think the boxes were cool, but again…we were only going to bid on stuff we need.

I did learn plenty of new things today, one item that could be valuable for years to come.  Should you need to use a porta-potty on a hill, take your time to find one that is level.  I’m sure most men will not appreciate this wisdom, but a tilting potty, which carries with it the possibility of it going over, while you are…’using’ it… all I’m saying is it was…. scary…very, very scary.

We stayed true to the plan and only bid on ‘stuff’ we needed.  A water trough (pretty exciting) we snagged at a great price….that and a ‘bike’.  Well, not really a bike-bike, but a farm ‘bike’… a tool.…a quad…Honda….engine…makes you smile when you drive it…. like I said, a ‘tool’, which we need.

We only bid on stuff we needed…

and for the last year Our Friend the Farmer has been saying To My Loving Spouse…

“Pat, you need a bike”.

As he is our sort of expert on farm life, it is important that we listen to him….

We are hearing the calls of the geese as they fly over head.  This reminds me, I am really living here, in the country as it happens often and makes me smile.  Unfortunately for the geese, it makes My Loving Spouse smile too.

Bloody wasps, we’ve wasp nests everywhere!  The wasps are resourceful creatures who find all kinds of nooks and crannies to make their homes.  I had been surprised that we’d not got stung…until Saturday, when I got stung!  I might have said a few  ‘words’, like…’ouch’…and…… ‘darn’…. or something.  The Teen was present to make sure I received ‘adequate’ nursing and ‘mothering’.  Bloody wasps,  4 days later and I’m still itching.  Our Neighbor Sue says that the abundant wasp population could be an indication that we’re going to have a hard winter.  Really?……  Bloody Wasps.

The horses are the only ones to get regular pedicures and new shoes.  The farrier a talented and patient horseman.  I am the horse holder speak calmly to assistant and the dogs are the clean up crew as horse hoof trimmings are their favorite chew treat.  Might sound like an odd treat, but not as odd as pig’s ears (sold in the pet store) and they are ‘free’.

(One of my favorite pictures from the rodeo and I’ve put it in for the sole reason, that I just love it.)

I spent the afternoon ‘unfencing’.  Fences can be a great thing in the right place and a ‘bloody nuisance’ when in the wrong place.  We’ve more fences that we need in some areas and not enough fences were we’d like them in others.  As ‘unfencing’ requires little more than tenacity or as some said last evening while I was working, stubbornness, I am well qualified for the job.  A fence working properly is always an important aspect here…or you might end up saying a ‘Bad British word’ like Our Friend the Farmer when we found his cows moving out of their pasture and into his crop of Timothy hay.  I’m pretty sure this one was saying to the rest of the herd, “Gals, come on in…the hay is delicious!”

And at the end of the day…

I must say…

I just love it here.

My Loving Spouse and I had planted our vegetable garden together, so I was under the mistaken idea that we’d weed, trim, weed, harvest, weed together….weed.  It seems I might just possibly have been mistaken.  That is not to say, I haven’t had ‘help’.  Zoe chews my gloves, steals the picked veggies out of the bowl, climbs through the carrots or tomatoes, but so far has not learned to weed.

I’ve never had so many veggies in one spot!  The guy that planted 3 tomato bushes was sort of thinking ‘crock pot’ (set it and forget it), so now we’ve tomatoes everywhere, but my problem is the ‘waste’ as I hate to see them on the ground and even the chickens can only eat so many.  (Yes, if you live nearby and want tomatoes, feel free to come over).

The learning curve has been sort of steep.  The beans are in ‘hiding’ as the poles used for them to run up where willow poles.  Willow will root anywhere and did, so now we’ve willow growing in amongst the beans as well.

I was careful this year in the planting of my pumpkins and did not plant the whole package (although that was great fun last year)!  They have taken over the strawberries, some of the potatoes and are sneaking through the fence into the flower garden.  They are big and orange and being pumpkins, just sort of wonderful!

The carrots are a huge hit and even the parsnips are doing well, except there is really only one person here who thinks that the parsnips doing well is a good thing.

To say I’ve learned a LOT would be an understatement.

Some of the abundance is going into work with My Loving Spouse…plenty of tomatoes and, no these are not zucchini, these are courgettes!

Our latest travelers from ‘across the pond’,  long time friends (see how I didn’t say ‘old’) of My Loving Spouse came to the farm ‘on holiday’, which is what the English call a ‘vacation’.  Both chefs, the Chief Chef having taught catering for years, (yes, he has cooked for the queen) and his better half a Mighty Chef in her own right, just a wee bit younger and a wee bit shorter.

It is interesting having chefs as guests.  These two are so worried that they will be a burden, that they insist on cooking fabulous meals for us.  (Yes, I know, it is a rough life…)  However, with the combination of the language barrier (English/American)…did you know coriander is cilantro?  or courgette is just, sigh…zucchini….and my food allergies…after a few days I found myself waking up ill each morning and begging My Loving Spouse, “Please no more fancy meals”.  So he kicked the chefs out of the kitchen and insisted that they relax and enjoy their ‘holiday’.  We didn’t cut them off of farm ‘life’ completely, we assisted them in their relaxation by letting them run the ride on lawn mower, work Jubal through the pasture, watch the puppy, ride the horses and talk to the cow.  The Chief Chef worries about Elsie Gump and her bad leg, which is quite amusing, that as a Chef he’s cooked a lot of her kin-folk.

And… I offered an afternoon of welding!  Well, really, anybody can go ‘on holiday’ and get a mani-pedi.  But, not everyone can go ‘on holiday’ and do welding, unless you come here and as long as you don’t really care who teaches you to weld.

The Mighty Chef couldn’t wait to go and weld something.  I happily shared my treasure trove of ‘good junk‘ with her and she dove into building and welding her very own scare-crow.  (Truly it was the blind leading the blind, and now I really, really understand that saying.)  I don’t think the Mighty Chef had any idea how much I do not know about welding, but since I’d welded once more than she had and knew how to turn on the welder, I was the ‘expert’.  It did help, that I had My Loving Spouse on speed dial.  I explained to my welding chef…welding is just like working a frosting bag, except it can burn you and you really can’t see…otherwise, it is just the same.

I was a great hostess, sharing all the cool tools with her… grinder, vise, miss-matched gloves…

We had a few set backs when the spring hair curls wouldn’t stay on, we burned a hole in one of the eyes and the mouth kept falling off. We changed design and kept on welding, kind of blind, but welding just the same.

The rain came and the mouth fell off again…  In the end, we’d managed to attach arms, put on a new mouth and considering I was the teacher, I was pretty amazed that any of it had worked.  The welding student was both proud and realistic, and she said in her very proper British accent…”I don’t think I should quit my day job.”

This summer, The Teen  and I have spent 3 days canning together, not only are we still speaking to one another, but we are actually getting better at it!  With the kitchen boss (My Loving Spouse) at work, we’ve muddled through making piccalilli without ‘proper’ supervision.  All of my American friends are saying…”Pica-what?”  Piccalilli is a delicious British mustard vegetable relish.

I have been wanting to have piccalilli in our pantry since our last trip to England.  With our abundant garden, the time was upon us.  It took quite awhile to find a recipe that I could understand and that would work for us!  It is now our favorite piccalilli recipe, as we’ve used it all of two times.  Thank you BBC Country Show Cook Off!

Our first batch included our plethora of green beans.

We each have our tasks, I am the washer-cutter-upper of veggies, while she is the mixer-measurer of the sauce.

The dogs are available for tripping over, napping encouragement and the occasional clean up of spills.

Batch two came in yesterday with our beautiful carrots, onions and more beans.

We did buy and add cauliflower to each batch as…that is how it is supposed to be done.  We also had a few trips to the store for more malt vinegar, which is a somewhat rare commodity here.  Fred Myer carries one smallish size of ‘London Pub’ malt vinegar, that is it, no other options and we seem to never get enough.

(Insert important ingredients here: malt vinegar, Coleman’s mustard, The Teen’s iphone).

Batch two was a colorful combination.

The Kitchen Boss had been a tad worried about our first batch as the ‘sauce’ did not fill the jars as full as the vegetables did.  The canning crew (The Teen and I) were not really worried as we’d followed the directions.  However, with batch two, we doubled the recipe and had our ‘ah ha’ moment.  The recipe had actually said to “Return the drained vegetables to the pan and add more sugar and water if necessary and then take off the heat.”  Except, we didn’t actually know ‘what necessary’ had meant the first time.  Here is what I really think…oh, well!  I am convinced it will still be very good.  I am also laughing, thinking of The Teen’s God Mother who wants to come here for ‘canning lessons’.!  Ha, now that will be entertaining!

Batch Two is looking good!  Not only are we on a great learning curve, but we are enjoying our work together.  I believe our family’s females who canned abundantly would be sort of proud of us.

We spent the day at the fair, and so our meals consisted of fair ‘food’.  As I am allergic to garlic, I have to be ‘careful’ about what I eat or I will get sick, so I ate fair ‘food’ (corn dog, curly fries, funnel cake, beer, scone with raspberry jam, a diet coke) and just nearly got sick.

I have to say that one of the things I love here is what is considered ‘crowded’.  Usually, it is two.  Two people in line for the chocolate dipped strawberries, two families in line to get in the gate, two people in line at the beer garden, two women in line for the women’s room and 1 guy in line for the men’s room.  Yep, that’s it…I love it!

In one of our regular drives near the farm, last week, we came across the Calgary Stampede Ranch Horses.  Bred for bucking.  Their looks are deceiving, when not in the arena.

The bulls however, nope, I’d never ever, want to approach those babies.

Rodeo is dangerous business.  One must also be careful how many pictures you take of the cowboys, as after a few pics, even the normally tame ones turn a bit ornery and start to give you ‘that look’.

So, it was officially NOT my first trip to the rodeo, but I still do not understand steer wrestling, where cowboys jump off their horses (going approximately 35 mph) to land (hopefully) on a steer, grabbing it by the horns and wrestling it to the ground.  Are you kidding me?  I want to know what group of 10-year-old boys or group of inebriated men thought this one up?  Riding fast and staying on, those I understand…jumping off…not so much.

I loved being at the live stock auction.  The way this town supports their 4-H kids is something else.  230-295 pound pigs selling for 3 to 5 dollars a pound!  Yep, that is some precious pork!  Just great seeing the 4-H kids come into the stands later to find their buyer, shake their hand and say, “Thank you for buying my pig”.

The moment I hope I remember the most was one of a respect.  The rodeo was honoring our service men and woman.  Those who give of themselves, so that we can live as we chose.  A soldier rode in with a horseless rider, veterans were honored and when a beautiful video tribute entitled “Thank you” was played, without being told, everyone slowly and quietly rose to their feet, removed their hats held them over their hearts and paid their respect.  Honor and dignity….makes me glad I am here.

“Everyone” is getting ready for THE Fair and THE Rodeo.  We know a lot more 4-H kids this year, so we are very excited for the 4-H live stock auction, to watch the pigs go for a lot of money and the grandfathers pull out their check books.  I was going to tell you all about the kids and their pigs…the girls’ pigs names are “Crispy Bacon & Ham” and “Howie”, the boys pigs are named…”pig”.  However, everyone has to finish their work before the fair and we were no different.

I had a one person tractor task today.  Jubal and I were to back fill the trench behind the work shop, as we’ve finally achieved a workable plan to keep the North 4 and the workshop from flooding.  It would take some time, but it was to be just Jubal and I…it was bound to be a good day, I’d get a lot done and be calm and relaxed, ready for The Fair and The Rodeo, until… Jubal (and I) ended up in the ditch.  Oh…blast…(or something like it).  My beautiful horse Beau, looks on without a care in the world.

My one person job was now a two person job, as I required Number Two Son to help pull Jubal and I out.  Events quickly led to the whole fiasco becoming a three person job, as Jubal was at such an angel, that the gas was not going down the gas line, so The Teen was recruited to go and pick up more gas.  The Teen was also the ‘interpreter’ from myself on the tractor (tilting at a 45 degree angle) to her brother who was driving the diesel truck and couldn’t hear a work either of us was shouting.

 The good thing about this particular three person team is that none of us really knew what we were doing, and we’re sort of okay with that and just try to do it anyway, so although there maybe ‘tension’, there are none of those arguments about ‘why aren’t we doing it right’, as we have no idea what ‘right’ is.  We had, however received our instructions and they had been shared with the whole team.

 We tried it….it didn’t work.  We tried it a few other ways, and they didn’t work either.  Being the one on the tractor sitting at a 45 degree angle was something of an experience, as I had to hang on to keep from sliding into the ditch myself.  However, we did not break the truck, get anything else stuck or break Jubal.  And then…we tried it a different way and like a wild ride, I was going backward on the tractor with Number Two Son towing us and all of a sudden we were out.  High fives and feeling pretty proud of ourselves, even if Jubal and I were just a tad muddy.  I finished filling the trench and looking at the beautiful sky…. and so now we are ready for The Fair and The Rodeo as well.

It takes time (a year), dedication and determination to make Sloe Gin.  We have a special set of Family members ‘across the pond’ who do so and let me tell you, their Sloe Gin is good….really good.  Now all of my American readers are saying…’hun?…’sloe what?…  In order to explain it better, I went to thekitchn.com/History of Drink to come up with this apt description, (and no, I did not misspell kitchen).

To understand sloe gin, we must first answer the question: “what, exactly, is a sloe”? Sloes are little berries, about the size of a dime, that grow wild in hedgerows all over England. One reason you might never have heard of sloes is that they’re not widely cultivated, because they taste terrible. Ripe sloes may be lovely to look at, but their taste is highly astringent and generally unpleasant.

But our compatriots across the sea are an inventive sort, and they came up with a way to make the sloes useful: soak them in booze. The Brits have been making sloe gin for hundreds of years by infusing the berries in high-proof gin, along with a little bit of sugar. The result is a liqueur that’s tart, but with a delicious richness and depth of flavor.

Sloe gin is especially nice on a cold winter’s night.  We drink it in very small amounts.  Now this could be because it is a liqueur and that is how one drinks a liqueur, in small amounts, or it could be that procuring our Sloe Gin from The Family across the pond is problematic, so we enjoy it sparingly.  Last year The Family sent us a grandson to stay at the farm for 6 weeks, but no Sloe Gin.  This year The Family sent a second teen to the farm, but no Sloe Gin.  The Sloe Gin situation on our end was becoming dire, so we upped our whining to a new level.  Great measures were taken by both The Family and our current British Guests to rectify our supply for which we are extremely grateful.

In Washington growing like weeds along the roads and trails are Choke Cherries.  One can imagine how good they taste, just based upon their name.  They can however, be made into syrup, jelly or even wine.

So began the great Choke Cherry vodka experiment.  We picked plenty of the tart fruit, washed them, stripped them of their leaves and threw out any random bugs we’d collected along the way.  My Loving Spouse then added sugar, vodka and who knows what else and set it to ‘brew’…  When The Family makes Sloe Gin, the sloe’s which are a bit like plums are pricked, legend has it by a virgin with a silver hat pin, (and no, we’ve no idea what or who is pricking The Family’s sloes) to release the flavor into the gin.

Choke cherries are so small, My Loving Spouse was confident that the flavors would release over time and just shoved them into the jug.  It did become fascinating to watch the color in the jug change and the cherries start to move from resting on the bottom to floating on the top.  As choke cherries are so abundant here, there was great hope that My Loving Spouse might be ‘on to something’.

Luckily for all of us, there was constant dialog with The Family about the process and the procedure for the making of the Choke Cherry Vodka.  More research was uncovered and it was at this point that The Family did a double-check with My Loving Spouse.

“Did you leave the cherry pits in?”

“Yes, they are quite small.”

“Yes, but it says they are poisonous…perhaps you should taste it….”

Cyanide will taste like almond, so My Loving Spouse took a small taste of the brew and said….

“Bad British word”