Pixie
On November 25, 2014 by sixtyacrebakerPixie is my pet. And when I say pet, I am talking in the context of favoritism. Although, some may argue that she is also our pet. Pixie was a preemie. Her dam was so confused about the whole situation that she actually dropped Pixie out while walking and basically never looked back. We tried to force a maternal instinct, but unfortunately because of her tiny size (less than 3lbs) we couldn’t take a chance that eventually her mom would start mothering. Pixie has a brother who was born first and bigger. He was able to get out of moms way when she rolled over, or mistakenly sat on him. Pixie just couldn’t do it. It took her a full two days to get her legs under her. Simply, she was weak and small and not going to make it. We put Pixie on a bottle and moved her into the house. She was on a every two hour feeding schedule, and lived in an beer case for the first week. She was my constant companion for the first month of her life…and I hers. As she grew stronger and bigger, we moved her in with the other goats during the day…in an attempt to socialize her. At 3 months old, we weaned her completely and put her with the herd.
She had a hard time making friends. Occasionally, we would see her play with the other doelings…but she didn’t have her mom to pal around with; while all the other kids have their mom. It was getting more and more noticeable that she wasn’t bonding with anyone, and her spirits began waning.
Seriously. I know it sounds odd, but it is true. Pixie was acting depressed. She no longer responded when we called her name, and recently she stopped eating. I was sure she was ill. I spent time with her each evening…sitting with her while she ate her dinner. But this past week she stopped coming to me. She would just stand in a corner and occasionally let out a sad cry. We’ve been so worried about her, fearing she was ill, and that we might lose her. Goats have a tendency to hide their illness until it is almost beyond repair. They are hearty, but fall quickly. A loss of Pixie would be difficult.
Mike suggested letting her roam about the yard with the dogs during the day. She was raised with the dogs in the house…so it was worth a shot. Maybe the dogs were her herd. First I let her out and had her follow me around for evening chores. She was like Eeyore. Her head was hung and she could barely handle the long walks between tasks. I was sure she was ill. Then, we let her in the yard first thing in the morning and had her wander about as she pleased. We took her temperature..normal, checked her for worms, no problem, and massaged her belly to give her rumen a kick-start. Signs were good that medically she was most likely okay. I gave her a double shot of a vitamin drench, and a handful of her favorite grain treat. And she sat in the yard barely able to lift her head.
A few hours passed and there was a noticeable change in her. She was on her feet and trying to devise a way to get on top of the hay pile. She was hungry and thirsty. When I walked the yard doing evening chores, she was at my side, skipping a bit. We let her sleep in the nursery with the baby lambs and their moms. The sheep are much less aggressive around food than the goats…and the lambs seemed to enjoy the prospect of having another playmate. Pixie found a peaceful spot to sleep and settled in for the night.
In the morning, as I was watching the sunrise through the bedroom window, I was startled by a tap at the patio door. Mike was already out doing morning feeding, and he had apparently let Pixie into the yard. She had happily bounded towards the house and was eager to say hi. We are so relieved, but still cautious.
She is eating well, jumping on tables and chairs and cars. She stops by the house occasionally to see what is going on and to grab a snack. She seems happy. The best part is, when we call her name, she calls us back. I am thankful that this story has a happy ending.
Although our animals all have a purpose on the ranch, and our goats are livestock, we care about them. They each have a distinct personality and respond to us differently. It is difficult not to get attached. Has heartbreaking as it is, I don’t want to be detached. I want to know all of our animals, and them to know us. I want their lives to be stress free and healthy. I am well aware that the day may come when we have to cull, harvest or slaughter our livestock. But until that day comes, they will have a good life. The best we can give them. Especially if they will end up on the table.
Tomatoes
On October 24, 2014 by sixtyacrebakerI have loads of these gorgeous, albeit small, tomatoes. My sink is a bath of hot soapy water, as I prepare jars for canning. My counter tops look as if a produce van exploded just outside the kitchen window. When it is all said and done, I will have plenty of jars for winter, as well as gifting. Question is…what shall I make? Tomato jam, sauce, chutney? So many possibilities. What I do know for sure is that I will be making a big jug of tomato infused vodka for the day after, the night before.
Plums
On September 27, 2014 by sixtyacrebakerThe weather is turning. This morning we picked the almost last bit of plums. Scout is a good early morning companion; she loves fruit as a treat. These bright little orbs, appear to her, to be a bucket of balls. She is very attentive her inspection flawless
And Goes Another Year
On February 22, 2014 by sixtyacrebakerThree birthdays ago, I wrote from a small desk; in a cozy room on a sheep farm. I awoke with the sun to find newly birthed lambs; ready for a warm bottle, i was charged to provide.That day was life changing literally.Today,my birthday 3 years hence, I write from a small desk; in a roomy greenhouse,on my own farm.
Where:
i awake with the sun
.. the rooster
…the bleating goats
..hungry pigs
… herd of sheep
..and a wee little lamb of my own
Greenhouse
On October 28, 2013 by sixtyacrebakerThis is our new greenhouse dressed for a luncheon we are hosting tomorrow. We are still laying the stone, and have yet to lay sod,but i love it so much!
V is for Vicarious
On September 12, 2013 by sixtyacrebakerScout and Jones at cheer practice.
Firenze in April -day three-
On April 30, 2013 by sixtyacrebakerDay three is usually when jet lag hits. At least for me. After so many years of it being a pattern, it is probably now a learned response. Or maybe, I allow myself to succumb to it. Likely because, it is something I can say to people
and they won’t judge. Which is how we found ourselves giving rip van winkle a run for his money. After a long sleep, a long walk seemed in order. We cruised the streets of Florence until it seemed a respectable time to look for lunch. I was craving roasted chicken and potatoes. We found it on the menu of a place that looked really nice. Except they were playing Sade and I can’t stand Sade.Really, I can’t. No specific reason, just can’t tolerate her music. Reminds me too much of jazz, i think. I like a hook. Sade doesn’t give you a hook, so i refused to go in. Instead, I convinced myself that another place would be just as good.
I was wrong
Not even photo worthy. I will admit, Mike liked his. He got some sort of pasta and I ordered chicken with roasted potatoes. I was served, seriously, seriously, seriously overcooked anorexic chicken thigh-slash-leg, and french fries / I poked at it. At least I still had room for gelato.
But let me get ahead of myself here, don’t despair.
I had a bad meal in Italy, no biggie. I made up for it at dinner, and then some. We ate at a fun place. When i say fun, i mean…bring your sense of fun…because if you bring your >em>”that would never go in america” attitude, you.will. hate. this place, and they will hate you. So don’t go. If you still insist on going, don’t tell them i told you to, because I happen to like these people.
You must make a reservation at Il Latini, a restaurant that looks small but it isn’t. You make a reservation and queue up. Then the crowd starts building. Then the fervor starts building. Everyone starts thinking that their reservation is the most important.They open the door and it becomes a bit of a fiasco. They start calling out numbers, not names, but numbers. due, cinque, due, tre. Everyone starts pushing and throwing up their hands saying we are due, we are cinque, but mostly; they start yelling “I have a reservation.” Rest assured, everyone has a reservation and everyone gets in. And all the stress of getting in, is forgotten, when the food starts arriving. First the antipasto. Then you make choices: soup or pasta. Pasta? Do you want: ravioli, gnocchi, pappardelle, or spaghetti? Or perhaps all of them. Hubs chose ravioli, and I chose soup. did i mention that at this place they open a bottle of wine, and you pay for what you drink. Drink the whole bottle 10 euros. Drink only half, 5 euros. Drink less, pay less. I love this system.
The main course: roasted meats. You want chicken, rabbit, steak, lamb, pork, veal? All of them, some of them, one of them, none of them; you decide. And of course, the side dishes. This is what our table looked like.
You should know, we cleaned our plates,but declined dessert. It was a good idea because, they brought out a plate loaded with cantucci and glasses of vin santo. Just as we thought it was all over they brought us a glass of moscato. You know,as you do. If you don’t know the drill
you think ahhh, they get you drunk so you aren’t freaked out by the bill. Because, come on, this kind of meal doesn’t come cheap.
Unless you are at il latini. They have reasonable in spades.
Pisa-Lucca in April–day two
On April 29, 2013 by sixtyacrebakerSaturday in florence is like Saturday in any city. Locals pouring into town to do their weekend shopping and tourists milling about in large groups, staring upwards. Just an all around crowded situation. Which is why we got out of town. Pisa and Lucca the destination. Turns out, it wasn’t such a bad idea. The weather had turned runny just as we took our seats on the excursion bus. Rain began pouring down. I never think i am a fan of the organized tourist train/bus/walk, but i nearly always give them a try. I am hardly disappointed; except when it includes food. Which is a big bad bust, most of the time. Those i avoid, because as you know, I am all about the food. Speaking of which. We had steak and eggs for breakfast.There are no photos, because i forgot. By the time i remembered it didn’t look so appetizing. Just trust me; leftover bistecca fiorentina with a couple of fried eggs and hunk of bread, is money.
In Pisa we did a tour of the church, which is beautiful but dark. Too dark to take photos. Because in churches, you can’t wear a hat and you can’t use a flash. The real draw in Pisa is the tower. A leaning tower.I love all the great photos that people fashion; holding the tower up, grimacing under the supposed weight. They never cease to humor me.However, I rarely see this maneuver.
Someone kicking the darn thing over.It is funny, right? That is my husband. He enjoys a good laugh as much as I. We hooted over this one for hours.
Time for lunch. In a tourist town, where restaurants actually name themselves restaurant tourista, getting a good meal is a bit dubious. We found one just outside the main tourist area called Trattoria Bruno.
Mike’s penne pasta with rabbit and boar was outstanding.
My handmade pasta with porcini mushrooms was also delicious. The pasta so thin, you could almost see through it.
From Pisa we got back on the bus and headed to Lucca; a medieval city that is usually quite lovely.However, on a rainy Saturday with many of the venues closed for the afternoon,
there was little to see. After getting a bit drenched in the rain we stopped for a hot chocolate. In this part of Italy, hot chocolate is more like warm chocolate pudding, than chocolate water. You decide if it sounds better or not.
e poi
which means and then not the poi you eat in Hawaii, which is not Italian by any means. Despite having the same name
We visited a winery just outside of Lucca, where it turns out, they make the house wine for one of my favorite places in New York City. Sant. Ambroeus. When i was getting married
my dress came from vera wang. Before my first appointment and subsequently all my fittings, I would have coffee and a little something at sant ambroeus. So when the proprietor of this winery in Lucca off-handedly mentioned the restaurant I perked up with “on madison avenue!?!” Sje and i had a bonding moment. It is her brother’s place and all the “house wine” comes from here.
It is pretty good. A tasty drinkable wine. I was set to buy quite a bit, but then my new friend the owner gave me the name of their american distributor, so i wouldn’t have to pay for shipping. Which now means, i’ll probably buy a whole case.
After the wine and the food and the travel by bus, we were pretty wiped out and without plans for dinner. We grabbed a quick porchetta sandwich and called it a night. Actually,a night and half a day,since jet lag reared its ugly head. We slept about 12 hours. Waking up just in time to search out lunch….
Firenze in April–day one
On April 26, 2013 by sixtyacrebakerI should really keep a food journal. Not in the way that you think. I don’t want it to scold myself, but to extol the pleasures of each and every bite. Lovely lines filled with prose, explanations of the blissful moment that fork meets mouth. I would show it to my internist as i step on the scale, so he might be so wrapped in envy, he’d forget to scold. Fat chance literally. Today was our first full day in Italy. We rented an apartment; both for economy and luxury. I like to fill a fridge: beverages, fresh fruit, yogurt, and other simple provisions. This is so each meal isn’t eaten out and we can enjoy lazy mornings reading the local paper or catching up on email.
Those gorgeous hotel breakfasts served in Europe are mostly lost on me. I like to ease into my day, and an apartment in the heart of the city, affords me that luxury. As luck would have it, for longer stays the cost savings can be quite extraordinary.
We dropped in to the local market last evening and stocked the fridge. This morning, I popped down to our local bakery and fruit stand to pick up a couple of things for breakfast. I made a pot of coffee, set up breakfast on the veranda, and enjoyed our
beautiful view of the Duomo.
These incredible fragoline wild strawberries from sicily are tiny and pure white on the inside. They are sweet as they are small with pure strawberry flavor. We are drying a few on the counter so we can bring them back home to plant. Hopefully they will germinate.
Post breakfast we walked, and walked, and walked some more. This town is crowded, people everywhere.
I was in school here in the 1980s and for the last decade or so, I’ve tried to make it back every year. Each time the crowds seem larger. The secret is definitely out; but, I do still feel the charm of a city i loved in my youth. Speaking of the secret being out, we had lunch at one of my favorite spots. It used to be a sleepy little place, in a lesser known square on the oltroarno. Partly by my own fault telling anyone who would listen and partly because of it hitting the guidebook circuit, it has become very, very popular. Surprisingly,
the prices remain low and the quality high. Osteria Santo Spirito is a true gem with simple yet delicious food. I always get the gnocchi tartufo small portion–still enough to share. The restaurant shared with me the ingredients for the gnocchi..but not the recipe. I have successfully duplicated the sauce both with pasta and potatoes and I may be persuaded to share!
Mike went with the rabbit cacciatore which was equally delicious.
On our way back to the apartment we stopped in at the Gallileo museum. It is a relatively small space filled with the most amazing instruments, used in applied sciences. It also houses
Gallileo’s mummified finger; if you are looking for a draw for your teenage son or fully grown husband.
The day progressed with more walking, an afternoon relax, and this ginormous steak.