Icky Okra

I'm from up north, y'all. But do I try to adjust to southern ways and do things with southern charm? You betcha! I mean ... Yes, ma'am!

Take okra. Please! Take okra!! No one seems to really love it, but everyone plants a ton of it in the garden and then tries to give it away to the neighbors. I had never had okra before coming to the farm and I haven't had much since then. It's just so dang slimy!

However, my lovely mother-in-law has shown me a good and easy way to cook the stuff. Yes, it's a little slimy while you're cutting it, but at least it isn't slimy when you put the finished product in your mouth.

Are you getting excited or simply trying not to gag? This is a "wing it" recipe, by the way. I usually need to have exact measurements, so if I can do this, you can too! Here we go.

Fried Taters and Okra

Ingredients: butter, onion, potatoes, okra, salt & pepper, corn meal

Start by choosing your frying pan. That will determine how many potatoes and slimy green veggies you'll need. Chop your onion, cube the potatoes, and slice the okra into rounds. I suggest you use at least twice as much potatoes as okra, but that's just me.

Toss a hunk of butter in the frying pan and throw in the onion and potatoes. Fry until the potatoes just begin to get soft. You can put a lid on it to speed up the process. Then add those charming little okra (okras?). Add salt and pepper, or get creative with some additional spices. I don't care.

If you want to use precooked potatoes, simply fry the okra and onion first and then add the cooked potatoes. Either way, once everything is in the pan, if it's looking a little dry, add some more butter and continue frying until everything is cooked and sizzling nicely.

Next step, sprinkle yellow corn meal over the whole works. Stir. Repeat. The potatoes and okra should have a nice coating of corn meal, but there shouldn't be excess piles of corn meal sitting in the bottom of the frying pan.

Continue to fry until everything looks delightfully browned. Dish it up and holler, "Come and get it!"

By gully, that's good eatin'!

(This post may look strangely familiar to some of you. That's because I originally shared this recipe on my "Piece o' Cake" blog in September of 2012. However, I made Fried Taters and Okra for supper tonight and just knew you'd want the recipe. You're welcome.)

Life Is Like a Box of Chocolates

Forrest Gump made a valid point and it was a good movie, but I had my own revelation this morning.

(We interrupt this blog to share a startling truth. The author wrote the title for this post and the first line, which you just read. She then went to the kitchen to eat breakfast, opened the Parade magazine, and the very first line her eyes happened upon was, "Is anything special planned for Forrest Gump's 20th anniversary?" Today, July 6, is the 20th anniversary of the film! And, without knowing that fact, the author chose this very day to make a comment about Forrest Gump? That is so strange and weird and crazy. Not that it matters or means anything, but still.... We now return you to the blog.)

Forrest Gump made a valid point and it was a good movie, but I had my own revelation this morning: Life Is Like Picking Raspberries. Actually, my first thought was Bible study is like picking raspberries. Then I expanded the idea to maybe all study is like picking raspberries. And finally, voila! LIFE is like picking raspberries!

Here's how picking raspberries works. You have an empty container in hand and methodically head in one direction around and through the patch, picking every berry in sight. Perfect! You now have quite a few raspberries in your bowl.

When you turn around, congratulating yourself on a job well done, you are amazed to see some berries hanging right there in front of your eyes. "How did I miss these beauties?" So you retrace your steps, now going in the opposite direction, and you find almost as many berries as you picked on your first pass. Ahh. Life is good.

You could go home now, but if you want to make sure you get all the berries, you have to make one more trip around. This time you'll look underneath the leaves, squatting down for a new point of view and lifting up individual branches to discover more hidden berries. Yum!

No more berries here, right?

Wrong! These were hiding under the leaves.

To get the most berries, this same routine has to be repeated at least every other day. Yes, it's time consuming, but if you like raspberries nearly as much as I do, you'll find it's totally worth the effort.

Who knew there could be so many more raspberries than I gathered on my first trip through the patch? Who knew that every day (or every other day), there is more wisdom and beauty to be discovered? Who knew that every year can reveal so much more than I first understood or imagined?

Life is like a box of chocolates. Life is like picking raspberries. I think I have discovered the ideal: Pick raspberries, then sit down and enjoy them with a box of chocolates. Or, like I did the other day, make a fresh raspberry pie in a chocolate-coated crumb crust.

 

Ahh. Life is good!

Crap Happens

Cats and kittens fed - not just these two little ones,

but all the big and small in four or five locations around the farm.

Black and red raspberries picked to enjoy with our breakfast.

The psht-psht-psht of the pulsator from the barn

echoing soothingly, almost imperceptibly in my ears.

That's because I'm in the house, not in the milk parlor :)

Yes, life on a dairy farm can seem quite idyllic.

However, my life, just like yours, has plenty of frustrations, problems,

and, to put it bluntly, crap.

To set the record straight, I'm writing a book.

You can read an introduction to the book and a few chapters here. I'll add another chapter every now and then, so keep checking back. More importantly, when I'm done with the painful part of editing the book, I'll publish it and hope you will want to read it in its entirety.

Until then, keep the sunny side up!

Morning Meander

First stop: the big tractor shed. I talk to the kittens (even if I don't see them) in my little "kitty cat" voice so they get used to hearing me. Wild mama Ginger showed up with 4 little ones about two weeks ago, and I got my hands on her two "yellow" ones this morning.

The 2 dark ones are females, the 2 yellow ones are males.

Couldn't get all 4 of them in one photo. Better luck next time?

Next stop: the old granary to feed Ginger's sister Freddie. Freddie has babies, too, but she hasn't brought them out for public display yet. Then on to the hay barn. Indira was out and about, so Pat and I took the opportunity to love on her babies.

Two males. This is definitely the year of the tom cat!

Pat put fresh hay in their cage and mom & babies snuggled in.

This has been a crazy year for cats "stealing" babies, families moving in together, and mothers dragging their youngsters from one locale to another. That's why Indira and her little ones are caged for now.

Marmalade's four are growing and doing well. They started out in the lumber shed, but now hang out under the hay barn.

Yup, four little toms.

After a stop at the milk barn to visit with friends (both human and feline), I finally started my slow stroll down the farm road to the highway.

The obligatory photo of Pilot Mountain.

Weldon has started cutting the wheat.

The wheat is chopped as silage to feed the cows until the corn silage is ready this fall.

Heading home. Notice the Sauratown Mountains behind/above the trees, center right.

A stop at the "poopy pond" to see the ducks.

The mom in the above photo has older babies following her. If you look up and to the right of the mother's head, in the first band of green grass, you'll see a little black spot. That's Hansel (a cat, of course), silently hoping for some dessert. He finally gave up and headed to the shade of our front yard to "catnap" the morning away. 

Here's another mom with "babier" ducklings in her wake.

I wasn't home long before Mom Edith came by with strawberries. She had hulled and cut up three flats for me, so I simply had to add sugar and put them in freezer boxes. The other flat of fresh berries went straight to the fridge for our enjoyment over the next few days.

Mmmm. Berries.

If every morning were as sweet and slow and serene as this one, I could totally live on a farm!

~*~ Kitty Season ~*~

It started on Wednesday. Gretchen had four babies. She's a good mama.

In a box on top of shelving in the old milk parlor.

Four cutie-patootie babies.

On Thursday, LaPli had babies. I had to "point & shoot" in the dark.

In the hay barn, behind hay bales and a cardboard barrel. Looks like five babies!

 This evening, LaPli was out and about, so I tried another shot.

Yup! That's SIX babies.

Ten babies in two days.

Anyone want a kitten?

A Rainy Sunday

What do farmers do on a rainy Sunday when they want to get off the farm? Well, they go visit another farm, of course. This past week, Dr. Taft told Weldon about his prolific ewes, one of which had quadruplets and another that had triplets.  He invited us to come see them, so we did.

We drove through the rain to Stauber Farm and Dr. Taft met us at the door. I couldn't help but notice his two beautiful cats in the porch, snuggled together on a fat, round cushion. We need a huge porch with lots of fat, round cushions for all our cats, right?

We crossed the highway, went through a couple gates, and entered the sheepfold. He raises St. Croix Sheep, and you can read about them on his website. (Just click on Stauber Farm above.)

As we walked, Dr. Taft updated us on the sheep. Another ewe had had quadruplets last night! He said his sheep hadn't birthed quadruplets in about six years, so this has been quite the spring. Now I'll just post some pics, because I don't know what else to say, other than they were totally cute, especially the little lambs with their high-pitched bleats.

Don't tell the sheep, but there are some little chicks hiding out in another room of the sheep house, staying cozy under a warming lamp.

The guys below didn't make a peep but kept a close eye on us, perhaps ensuring we weren't up to any shenanigans.

Thank you, Dr. Taft, for introducing us to your delightful animals. Good luck with all those babies!

~*~ Frio and Fria ~*~

The phone rang just before Weldon opened the door to head out for morning chores. He answered it, and I could hear his side of the conversation. When he hung up, I asked, "Was that Pat?"

"Yes."
"A baby calf?"
"Yes."
"Sure am glad it wasn't born yesterday morning! I'll be out shortly." Yesterday morning it was -2°; this morning, by comparison, it's a balmy 20°.

A few minutes later, while I was getting the cat food ready, the phone rang again. "Hi. It's Pat. Get out here as soon as you can. We might need your help. It's twins!"

By the time I got down to the barn, the babies were safely ensconced in the milk parlor and Weldon was busily cleaning them up with warm water from the hose. It was like a sauna bath with steam filling the whole room. He washed while Pat and I dried.

We then carried them to a quilt by the stove, dried them off more thoroughly, and covered them with another quilt. Pat started asking about the French and Spanish words for "cold." It didn't take long before she had them named: Fria (the little heifer, above left) and Frio (the little bull, complete with bull's-eyes, above right).

We then went out to feed the bigger baby calves and I got a picture of the proud momma. Just the night before we had commented on how huge she was. Now we knew why!

Before I headed back to the house, Fria and Frio were still shivering under their quilt. By now (an hour or two later), I bet they're comfy cozy and have a number of cats sitting atop them to ensure they are feeling safe and loved. If you look closely (just above Frio's head), you will see little Minnie already contemplating the possibilities.

So ... how has your morning been? 

A Surprise Ending

This morning I walked up to the front of the church carrying a "Honey Buns" box filled with the paraphernalia I would need to do the Children's Message. One little guy called out, "Oh, yeah! Honey Buns!" Sorry, buddy, but there are no Honey Buns in the box.

Good morning, children. One of my favorite chapters in the Bible is John 1. I could read the whole thing to you and then read it again. But, instead, I'll just read two verses. First, do you know some other names for Jesus?

"God!" "Lord!" "Mary!"

Uhm, no. Good try, but Mary was the mother of Jesus. I don't think anyone ever called him Mary.

"Savior!" "Emmanuel!"

Good job! Another one of his names is "Light of the World." Now listen to verses 4 and 5 from John, chapter 1. "The life of Jesus gave light to everyone. The light keeps shining in the dark, and darkness can never put it out."

I took Weldon's big, black Mag-Lite from the box and turned it on. Let's see if I can put out this light. I took a white cloth napkin from the box and laid it over the light. Is the light gone?

"No!!"

Okay, let me try this again. Next I doubled the napkin. Is the light gone?

"No!!"

One of the boys said, "Hey, try that black thing," as he pointed to a black woolen scarf in my box. Good idea. I put it over the flashlight asking, Is the light gone? Mmmm. This time they had to look more carefully, so I asked one of the children to come and peek under the scarf.

"Yup! The light is still shining!" He was pretty excited. One by one, the children had moved closer and closer to me.

Next, I wrapped the flashlight in the white cloth and the black scarf, laid it on the floor, and covered it with the box. Okay, someone will have to come and peek under here and see if the light is still shining. One little girl got her face down low and close, and then ALL the kids were huddled around the little 8" by 12" Honey Buns box, trying to get a glimpse of that flashlight.

Slipping my hand under the box, I unwrapped the flashlight. Suddenly, they all lifted their heads (and maybe their hands!) and with one voice cried out, "YAY!!!"

Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that response. Even now, the memory puts a smile on my face. The darkness CANNOT put out the Light ... and that IS something to cheer about!

Hard of Hearing

Yes, I'm a writer. Yes, I wrote 50,278 words during National Novel Writing Month (November). Yes, I have posted my NaNoWriMo Winner Badge! Yes, I plan to tell you more about my experience with NaNo on my Piece o' Cake blog ... soon, but not today.

No, I have not forgotten about my blogs. No, I have not posted to them since October. No, I am not going to give you a wonderful list of excuses.

I started this blog on July 6, 2006, with a story about Weldon's mom. Seven-and-a-half years later, she still impresses and amazes me and makes me laugh.

This is Edith a year ago. I didn't have my camera today, but she still looks the same.

Last night Pat informed us that she would have some other obligations to attend to in the morning, so she wouldn't be able to help with chores. The phone rang this morning just before seven o'clock. It was Mom Edith. "Take your cell phone when you go out to chores and call me when you're ready to feed the calves. I'll come down to help."

Eighty-seven years old and always willing to help in any way she can. Impressive! Well, I certainly wasn't going to turn down her kind offer, so I slipped my phone into my coat pocket. After feeding and watering all the kitty cats and doing a few other little tasks, I called Edith. She came down, we chatted a bit while we waited for Weldon to finish what he was doing, and then we all trudged to the calf shed.

Yeah, and these are last year's calves, too. I didn't have my camera, remember?

With each of us holding two bottles, the six young 'uns were fed in no time. Weldon attempted to feed the youngest calf, born just the night before, but she wasn't very interested. Back to the milk barn we went.

Weldon started getting the milking system ready, I started washing bottles and buckets, and Edith filled two small buckets with water to carry back to the older calves. As she headed to the door, Weldon said, "Leave those, Mother. I'm going back to the calves in just a minute and I will carry them out."

Edith continued to the door and, as she walked out with a bucket in each hand, said, "I don't listen very well."

Hahaha. She cracks me up.

Strange, but True

Do you see what has happened here? I retired from cows, and now I'm not musing (nor complaining) so much about life on the farm.

However, today I have a strange story to tell you and then a few lovely photos ... to take your mind off the story.

This morning, after Pat and I fed the kitties and calves, Weldon announced that a bull calf had been born. He picked it up with the Bobcat and moved it into a pen with Maegan, the most-recently born little female. Weldon and Pat continued with morning chores and I went back to the house to get ready for church.

When we got home from church, Weldon headed out to feed the new baby calf and get the small silo ready for the last of the corn that is still standing in the fields. He had been out for about half an hour when I heard the door open. "Cindy?" he called. "Come here, please."

This is his story: "I went out to feed the calf. He took the bottle greedily, chugging down the milk. He had finished about half the bottle, made a couple raucous bleats ... b-aa-aa-aa, b-aa-aa-aa ... fell over, gasped, and died."

WHAT??? He told me the same story again, adding, "In 61 years on the farm, I've never seen such a thing. I'm going to bury him now."

Weldon's only guess was that the calf's esophagus was deformed, perhaps going to its lungs instead of its stomach. Ah, life on the farm. What can I say?

There is also beauty here. Good thing, or I'd be a crazy lady, right? No comments from the peanut gallery! Enjoy.

 

 

 

P.S. In November I will be participating in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I will not be attempting a novel, but I will be writing the book that I began so eagerly almost two years ago. 50,000 words in 30 days. Yes! I will do it! Pray for me :)