For anyone hanging around to hear how we fared today, I must sadly report that we are still in the midst of chicken woes. This morning when Andrew headed out for work, Milk Toast (named by him for her being the wimpy one of the brood and because he liked the name) was sitting in an empty box...still pouting. He moved her from her box, she pecked and scratched all the way, and spent the morning sulking at the front door of the coop.
Alas, this afternoon a creepy cable guy needed in the backyard (We don't even have cable. Take your cables elsewhere!), so I had to give in and let the hen into safety lest el creepy cable guy let her out...or hungered for chicken leg. I could go on a long horrible rant about the guy's level of creepiness, but let's just say that after he called me "Sweetheart" and mentioned bowing down to worship me b/c my backyard looks like a farm (WHAT DID HE SAY?!), I kept the doors locked and a persuasive friend close by until he left. **shiver**
Once the backyard was again secured, I had the task of extracting Milk Toast. I do not favor being pecked. I guess you could say I'm a little chicken about it. (Oooh, bad pun! I know, but it's funny, isn't it?) I got smart and grabbed a thick t-shirt to act as gloves during the procedure. I opened the nesting box and there she was; rather miffed to be in the left nest b/c Andrew had stuffed the right side with a piece of cardboard. Milk Toast looked at me with a cock-eyed glare. I held my breath and very slowly tried to encourage her out of the nest. She pecked at the shirt and I quickly realize she was not going to budge. I was going to have to be aggressive about this. Even if it meant risking being pecked. Moving the shirt over her head, I gave a heave and plunked her into the coop. I ran around to open the doors before she could climb back into the nest, but instead saw the annoyed look in her eye as she tried to glue herself to the floor. **oh dear**
Using the shirt again, I threw it over her head and booted her out of the coop and into the open. Normally the hens are happy to go free range, but not this broody thing! She has always been such a sweet hen; very quiet, sensible and well mannered. Shes never made more than a peep, but upon being flung into the outdoors, she let me have it with her vocals! She started screeching and making the most horrible racket. I was stunned. Where was my sweet hen?
I did what I had to do. As if she were some awful criminal in prison being stunned with water from a fire hydrant, I gave her a good soaking with the garden hose. She quieted right now, but still huffed about the yard, insulted that I'd wet her pretty feathers and wounded her pride. What a drama queen!
This evening Andrew closed the coop door for the girls to spend their evening on the roost outside. They normally do this when the weather is nice, but from what we've read, a broody hen needs to be quarantined away from her nest or else her hormones won't go back down to normal. Crazy, huh? Tomorrow will be another juggling act to keep milk Toast away from "her" nest, but we'll manage. There you are with today's update from our little "farm". I never knew things could be so interesting...or quite so dramatic. :-p
April 25, 2012
April 24, 2012
Gone Broody
Well it finally happened. One of our hens has gone "broody". I suspected that a hen "going broody" meant that she was a bossy little snot; one prone to rule the roost. In that case I thought our girl Red was the broody one, but now I have a much clearer picture.
Lemme esplain...
A few days ago, Olivia and I went out to go get "EEEEEggs!". Well, at least that's how Olivia says it. Afternoon time is usually when the girls have finished their laying, so I'll ask Olivia "Do you want to help Mommy go get the chicken's eggs?". She usually responds with a small, eagle-like shriek of excitement, and then we head outside. Once at the coop, she can't wait for me to get the latch undone so she can pull the door open to peer into the nesting boxes to look for her treasure. When we find eggs, she will gasp and say "Eeegs!"...as if we hadn't just walked through the whole routine as we had the day before...and all the days before that. I love her enthusiasm for the simple things in life. She brings me such joy and cause to laugh at stuff I wouldn't normally pay attention to. But back to my story about broodiness.
A few days ago on one of our our egg gathering adventures, one of the hens had grown a little excited and left a present on her sphere. Not having an extra hand to separate clean from the dirty eggs, I planned to gather it later. Had I given it to Olivia to hold she'd have surely tasted something unpleasant, and we just weren't going there. Now, contrary to popular belief, though I am a woman of many talents, I find it difficult to hold a squirming child in one arm, while trying my best not to crush three eggs in my other hand...and still latch a chicken coop and successfully make it indoors w/out dropping either. In short, we left the poopy egg for later. And of course...when "later" had arrived, I'd completely forgotten about it. The next day, the same thing happened, except the poopy egg pile had grown by two. Eww. Not touchin' those babies.
My two days of leaving eggs to gather later was just enough time to stir something in our sweet Milk Toast. Yes my friends, whatever it was about those poopy little spheres was enough to endear that chicken into thinking she was their Mommy. And that they desperately needed her help to be brought into this world. And so she began sitting on them. I didn't really think about it when I first saw her, except that it was odd she was in the nest after she'd laid her eggs...but hey, I'm still pretty new to this whole chicken farming thing. The next day when my girl and I went to get eggs, again we found a chicken. One that did not want to get up from her nest. One that did not want my hand reaching in to gather ANYTHING from underneath her. And so she pecked at me...and I fled. Well, I didn't run away exactly, but my hand quickly retreated to safety.
Two days of this kind of odd behavior led me to talk to a few friends with chickens and to do an internet search. Everything I was hearing and had read led me to believe that, yep, we had a broody hen. The lil' gal didn't even know the eggs she was trying to hatch weren't even fertile. Poor Milk Toast.
When Andrew got home today, we had to extract her from the box. Everyone says they had to bring their hen out of her broodiness with a shock...some even dunking their bird under water! The urgency with bringing a hen out of her broodiness is because if she gets too far into her chicken-mothering hormones, she will stop laying eggs for a time. I personally like omelets and souffles, so we needed to do something...and quick! My brave Andrew reached his hands right in that box, even with her pecks and protests, and pulled her right out. She is now grazing outside the coop and will hopefully not mourn her (now missing) eggs too much.
We will see what tomorrow will hold. If she goes back to being broody...well, then we just may be holding a revival tomor
row and have to baptize ourselves a chicken! I'll keep y'all posted. ;)
The Dread Pirate Roberts (L) and sweet, motherly Milk Toast (R)
Lemme esplain...
A few days ago, Olivia and I went out to go get "EEEEEggs!". Well, at least that's how Olivia says it. Afternoon time is usually when the girls have finished their laying, so I'll ask Olivia "Do you want to help Mommy go get the chicken's eggs?". She usually responds with a small, eagle-like shriek of excitement, and then we head outside. Once at the coop, she can't wait for me to get the latch undone so she can pull the door open to peer into the nesting boxes to look for her treasure. When we find eggs, she will gasp and say "Eeegs!"...as if we hadn't just walked through the whole routine as we had the day before...and all the days before that. I love her enthusiasm for the simple things in life. She brings me such joy and cause to laugh at stuff I wouldn't normally pay attention to. But back to my story about broodiness.
A few days ago on one of our our egg gathering adventures, one of the hens had grown a little excited and left a present on her sphere. Not having an extra hand to separate clean from the dirty eggs, I planned to gather it later. Had I given it to Olivia to hold she'd have surely tasted something unpleasant, and we just weren't going there. Now, contrary to popular belief, though I am a woman of many talents, I find it difficult to hold a squirming child in one arm, while trying my best not to crush three eggs in my other hand...and still latch a chicken coop and successfully make it indoors w/out dropping either. In short, we left the poopy egg for later. And of course...when "later" had arrived, I'd completely forgotten about it. The next day, the same thing happened, except the poopy egg pile had grown by two. Eww. Not touchin' those babies.
My two days of leaving eggs to gather later was just enough time to stir something in our sweet Milk Toast. Yes my friends, whatever it was about those poopy little spheres was enough to endear that chicken into thinking she was their Mommy. And that they desperately needed her help to be brought into this world. And so she began sitting on them. I didn't really think about it when I first saw her, except that it was odd she was in the nest after she'd laid her eggs...but hey, I'm still pretty new to this whole chicken farming thing. The next day when my girl and I went to get eggs, again we found a chicken. One that did not want to get up from her nest. One that did not want my hand reaching in to gather ANYTHING from underneath her. And so she pecked at me...and I fled. Well, I didn't run away exactly, but my hand quickly retreated to safety.
Two days of this kind of odd behavior led me to talk to a few friends with chickens and to do an internet search. Everything I was hearing and had read led me to believe that, yep, we had a broody hen. The lil' gal didn't even know the eggs she was trying to hatch weren't even fertile. Poor Milk Toast.
When Andrew got home today, we had to extract her from the box. Everyone says they had to bring their hen out of her broodiness with a shock...some even dunking their bird under water! The urgency with bringing a hen out of her broodiness is because if she gets too far into her chicken-mothering hormones, she will stop laying eggs for a time. I personally like omelets and souffles, so we needed to do something...and quick! My brave Andrew reached his hands right in that box, even with her pecks and protests, and pulled her right out. She is now grazing outside the coop and will hopefully not mourn her (now missing) eggs too much.
We will see what tomorrow will hold. If she goes back to being broody...well, then we just may be holding a revival tomor
row and have to baptize ourselves a chicken! I'll keep y'all posted. ;)
The Dread Pirate Roberts (L) and sweet, motherly Milk Toast (R)
April 20, 2012
Statuses...Stati...Status'...
As a young Mom living in the age of social media, I must confess that often my thoughts are processed and narrowed into mental status form. A status is defined by Webster's Dictionary as:
1a) position or rank in relation to others
b) relative rank in a hierarchy of prestige; especially : high prestige
2) the condition of a person or thing in the eyes of the law
3) state or condition with respect to circumstances
The following statuses are a reflection of what's recently been floating around in my life and brain. I've heard it said that life is a comedy. What you're about to read is proof of that. (And that fact that my family is weird. Well, okay. Maybe I'm weird, too.)
"Bwa-ha-ha! I have tricked my child into thinking that chicken bone broth with beet, celery and onion reduction is something called "juice"!"
"Andrew says it's time to pull the bees out of the crisper. I sure hope they survived their "winter" in the fridge."
"I'm feeling like a great Mom today. My daughter just greatly benefited from the B-12 of mashed sardines."
12 hours later...
"Dear Lord, what was I thinking?! **GAG**"
"This just in: Sprinkling diatomaceous earth in the worm bins will kill the gnats and larvae without harming the earthworms! YES!"
"Quick! Grab the camera...the BEES ARE HATCHING!!!"
"I hope nobody ever finds a cause to look through my kitchen. I'd have a hard time explaining the glass jars with brain-like kombucha scobys growing in the cabinet."
1a) position or rank in relation to others
b) relative rank in a hierarchy of prestige; especially : high prestige
2) the condition of a person or thing in the eyes of the law
3) state or condition with respect to circumstances
The following statuses are a reflection of what's recently been floating around in my life and brain. I've heard it said that life is a comedy. What you're about to read is proof of that. (And that fact that my family is weird. Well, okay. Maybe I'm weird, too.)
"Bwa-ha-ha! I have tricked my child into thinking that chicken bone broth with beet, celery and onion reduction is something called "juice"!"
"Andrew says it's time to pull the bees out of the crisper. I sure hope they survived their "winter" in the fridge."
"I'm feeling like a great Mom today. My daughter just greatly benefited from the B-12 of mashed sardines."
12 hours later...
"Dear Lord, what was I thinking?! **GAG**"
"This just in: Sprinkling diatomaceous earth in the worm bins will kill the gnats and larvae without harming the earthworms! YES!"
"Quick! Grab the camera...the BEES ARE HATCHING!!!"
"I hope nobody ever finds a cause to look through my kitchen. I'd have a hard time explaining the glass jars with brain-like kombucha scobys growing in the cabinet."
April 19, 2012
Shirt-turned-Dress Refashion
I can't decide if I like creating brand new things, or refashioning old things into new, useful ones. As of this moment, I think I'm leaning toward to the latter. After some successful garage sale-ing last week, I was a tad disappointed when one of my bargain striped-shirts was impossibly tiny. It looked like it would fit when I bought it, but maybe I was just feeling uber skinnny that day. In reality, the happy, striped jersey-knit shirt was a no-go...but I was determined to find a purpose for it.
After looking at how much fabric I had to work with, I decided to refashion the shirt into a dress for my darling girl. What kid wouldn't like a soft dress to romp around in?!
Okay, so here is the shirt as I purchased it. Pretty, huh? *sigh*
I cut the sleeves off of the shirt so it would be easier to work with. Then, grabbing some brown butcher paper and a dress Olivia currently fits into, I laid it out and made a rough pattern. I've seen other people doing stuff like this on their blog tutorials, so I figured I'd give it a try. It was way too easy! Why haven't I done this before?!
I laid the pattern over the body of the shirt, figured out where I wanted the neckline and hem to fall and started cutting. I was considering making it a sleeveless dress, but thought some capped sleeves would be awfully cute. I had plenty of material in the sleeves, so cut them down for the dress. Sleeves have always given me a bit of a hard time, but thankfully, the striped lines up, and pinning the tar out of them before sewing was most helpful. Once the sleeves were on, I lined up the stripes on the sides of the dress and stitched away. **Oh the things I could do with a serger!** Ahem.
Once the sides were stitched, I simply had to turn the dress inside out and was done. Well...I still need to hand-tack the inside of the back collar so it won't roll out, but aside from that, my shirt-turned kiddo's dress only took me about an hour! I am very happy with how it ended up. So happy in fact that I'm camped outside Olivia's room, waiting to try it on her when she gets up from her nap.
What do ya think?! :)
After looking at how much fabric I had to work with, I decided to refashion the shirt into a dress for my darling girl. What kid wouldn't like a soft dress to romp around in?!
Okay, so here is the shirt as I purchased it. Pretty, huh? *sigh*
I cut the sleeves off of the shirt so it would be easier to work with. Then, grabbing some brown butcher paper and a dress Olivia currently fits into, I laid it out and made a rough pattern. I've seen other people doing stuff like this on their blog tutorials, so I figured I'd give it a try. It was way too easy! Why haven't I done this before?!
I laid the pattern over the body of the shirt, figured out where I wanted the neckline and hem to fall and started cutting. I was considering making it a sleeveless dress, but thought some capped sleeves would be awfully cute. I had plenty of material in the sleeves, so cut them down for the dress. Sleeves have always given me a bit of a hard time, but thankfully, the striped lines up, and pinning the tar out of them before sewing was most helpful. Once the sleeves were on, I lined up the stripes on the sides of the dress and stitched away. **Oh the things I could do with a serger!** Ahem.
Once the sides were stitched, I simply had to turn the dress inside out and was done. Well...I still need to hand-tack the inside of the back collar so it won't roll out, but aside from that, my shirt-turned kiddo's dress only took me about an hour! I am very happy with how it ended up. So happy in fact that I'm camped outside Olivia's room, waiting to try it on her when she gets up from her nap.
What do ya think?! :)
April 13, 2012
Bargins, baby!
This morning the girly and I headed out to hit up a few garage sales.
Oh yes, that's right. We went garage "sale-ing". Or is it garage "saling"? As in, we went "sailing" around to different garages? Oh dear me, I should probably looks this up.
Anyway, we moseyed around town and stopped at several garage sales. To my credit (and honey, I hope you're reading this), I checked the amount of green in my wallet before we left and only took 15 bucks and change with me. It's not that I left a wad of cash at home. Tis because I only had $15 in my wallet. ;) I try to be discerning about whatever I buy to begin with, so having that amount of dough certainly helped me be especially careful before making a purchase.
A few of the sales had the typical amount of baby stuff...but then I happened upon a gem. At one of my last stops, there was a sweet old couple having a sale who were just in the mood to get rid of things. They both cooed to my girl and made her giggle while I grabbed up a few of their heirlooms. I almost felt guilty, but since the price was oh-so-very-right, I couldn't help myself.
Here's what I (cumulatively) got:
Nat King Cole record: 50 cents
Vintage green 1/2 gallon wine bottle turned lamp: $1
2 striped quarter-length t's: $2.50
Vintage lace in package: 50 cents
Vintage recipe box: 25 cents
3 heirloom embroidered/lace trimmed pillow cases: 75 cents
Total: $5.50
If I get really with it, I can wear one of my striped shirt and listen to the Nat King Cole album while using the pillow cases and lace for sewing projects under the lamp light. ;)
P.S. I also found an almost-new training potty for whenever we start potty training. In the meantime, it'll live in the cellar as our emergency-use storm potty. ;)
P.P.S. Looks like we're getting our first real storm of the tornado season. That potty may be useful after all. **gulp**
Oh yes, that's right. We went garage "sale-ing". Or is it garage "saling"? As in, we went "sailing" around to different garages? Oh dear me, I should probably looks this up.
Anyway, we moseyed around town and stopped at several garage sales. To my credit (and honey, I hope you're reading this), I checked the amount of green in my wallet before we left and only took 15 bucks and change with me. It's not that I left a wad of cash at home. Tis because I only had $15 in my wallet. ;) I try to be discerning about whatever I buy to begin with, so having that amount of dough certainly helped me be especially careful before making a purchase.
A few of the sales had the typical amount of baby stuff...but then I happened upon a gem. At one of my last stops, there was a sweet old couple having a sale who were just in the mood to get rid of things. They both cooed to my girl and made her giggle while I grabbed up a few of their heirlooms. I almost felt guilty, but since the price was oh-so-very-right, I couldn't help myself.
Here's what I (cumulatively) got:
Nat King Cole record: 50 cents
Vintage green 1/2 gallon wine bottle turned lamp: $1
2 striped quarter-length t's: $2.50
Vintage lace in package: 50 cents
Vintage recipe box: 25 cents
3 heirloom embroidered/lace trimmed pillow cases: 75 cents
Total: $5.50
If I get really with it, I can wear one of my striped shirt and listen to the Nat King Cole album while using the pillow cases and lace for sewing projects under the lamp light. ;)
P.S. I also found an almost-new training potty for whenever we start potty training. In the meantime, it'll live in the cellar as our emergency-use storm potty. ;)
P.P.S. Looks like we're getting our first real storm of the tornado season. That potty may be useful after all. **gulp**
April 10, 2012
Blackened Chicken with...that other Grain
Last week a certain blackened chicken recipe caught my eye. The chicken was cut into slices, served over quinoa grains, then drizzled with an avocado sauce. The picture looked so sumptuous that I wanted to jump through the foodie-photo and sample everything on the plate. Scanning the list of ingredients, I was delighted to have everything in my cupboard. Yes, I knew what I'd be serving for dinner!
I was a excited to cook the quinoa since I'd never tried it before. No wait, I take that back. It is quite possible that I tried it in my youth when Mom forced us to eat veggie burgers. Nonetheless, I was still determined to give it a go. An internet search graced me with the knowledge that I didn't have to babysit a simmering pot since my rice cooker would do the job nicely. Once washed, the cup of quinoa was cooked in 2 cups of chicken broth, then mixed with chopped cilantro and spritzed with the juice and zest of a whole lime. The recipe called for two, but I do believe that would have knocked us over!
The chicken was simply two grilled breasts seasoned in the following:
½ Teaspoon of Paprika
¼ Teaspoon of Salt
¼ Teaspoon of Pepper
¼ Teaspoon of Cayenne Pepper
¼ Teaspoon of Onion Powder
¼ Teaspoon of Cumin
I always wash poultry before cooking it, so once it had a bath and was patted dry with a paper towel, I placed the breasts it in a bowl and evenly sprinkled the mix from above. The paprika makes for a very startling color, and upon washing my hands, had questioned if I'd had another encounter with my zester. Seeing red wash off my fingers is always cause for a startle in my book. Especially when the grater/zester is near.
The sauce that went on top of the chicken was simply an avocado blended with 4 oz. of cream cheese, and a little more cilantro torn and thrown in. My sauce was too thick, so I added a splash of milk so it would spread more easily.
When it was time to eat, I scooped a serving of the cilantro, lime quinoa onto each place, sliced the blackened chicken breast over that, then topped it with a dollop of the avocado cream cheese sauce. **D-lish!**
While I sat and savored the flavors of the grainy quinoa, my husband looked at it with great suspicion. It's not that he was ungrateful and he even ate all that I had served him, but being a white rice purist, he was rather disturbed at another grain being infused with citrus and green leafy bits. I made it up to him a few days ago when I set before him an enormous bowl of steaming white rice. The immense look of gratitude on his face is something I won't soon forget.
All in all, the chicken was suburb, thanks in great part to my "Grill Master" husband who did not overcook the bird. It was cooked through but still quite juicy (maybe 5 minutes a side?). We both agreed that the blacked chicken was a definite do again, but as for the lime quinoa, well, that will remain on the "Make occasionally" list. At least for Andrew anyway. In case you happen to come over for lunch someday, you can join me in the closet, savoring quinoa before my darling gets home for his rice.
I was a excited to cook the quinoa since I'd never tried it before. No wait, I take that back. It is quite possible that I tried it in my youth when Mom forced us to eat veggie burgers. Nonetheless, I was still determined to give it a go. An internet search graced me with the knowledge that I didn't have to babysit a simmering pot since my rice cooker would do the job nicely. Once washed, the cup of quinoa was cooked in 2 cups of chicken broth, then mixed with chopped cilantro and spritzed with the juice and zest of a whole lime. The recipe called for two, but I do believe that would have knocked us over!
The chicken was simply two grilled breasts seasoned in the following:
½ Teaspoon of Paprika
¼ Teaspoon of Salt
¼ Teaspoon of Pepper
¼ Teaspoon of Cayenne Pepper
¼ Teaspoon of Onion Powder
¼ Teaspoon of Cumin
I always wash poultry before cooking it, so once it had a bath and was patted dry with a paper towel, I placed the breasts it in a bowl and evenly sprinkled the mix from above. The paprika makes for a very startling color, and upon washing my hands, had questioned if I'd had another encounter with my zester. Seeing red wash off my fingers is always cause for a startle in my book. Especially when the grater/zester is near.
The sauce that went on top of the chicken was simply an avocado blended with 4 oz. of cream cheese, and a little more cilantro torn and thrown in. My sauce was too thick, so I added a splash of milk so it would spread more easily.
When it was time to eat, I scooped a serving of the cilantro, lime quinoa onto each place, sliced the blackened chicken breast over that, then topped it with a dollop of the avocado cream cheese sauce. **D-lish!**
While I sat and savored the flavors of the grainy quinoa, my husband looked at it with great suspicion. It's not that he was ungrateful and he even ate all that I had served him, but being a white rice purist, he was rather disturbed at another grain being infused with citrus and green leafy bits. I made it up to him a few days ago when I set before him an enormous bowl of steaming white rice. The immense look of gratitude on his face is something I won't soon forget.
All in all, the chicken was suburb, thanks in great part to my "Grill Master" husband who did not overcook the bird. It was cooked through but still quite juicy (maybe 5 minutes a side?). We both agreed that the blacked chicken was a definite do again, but as for the lime quinoa, well, that will remain on the "Make occasionally" list. At least for Andrew anyway. In case you happen to come over for lunch someday, you can join me in the closet, savoring quinoa before my darling gets home for his rice.
April 4, 2012
A Spring Wreath
About a month ago, before the yard-work madness was a glimmer on the horizon, there was a bush. Mind you, this was no ordinary bush. It stood about 4-5 feet tall and had long delicate branches that all grew from it's base. The branches were a reddish brown color and were rather flexible when the wind whipped through our yard. Alas, there was one very important thing about the bush it that distinguished it from ever other bush in our entire yard.
It was planted right smack dab where we were planning to put the garden boxes. **gasp**
Something had to be done.
I looked through all of the tree/plant/shrubbery tags the previous owner has thoughtfully left for us. I had hopes of identifying if it were of a rare, precious variety of shrub in need of my rescuing. Despite my best efforts, helped none by the fact that winter was still upon us and no leaf would yield any identification, I began to dig it up.
I dug and I dug. My husband watched in amusement from the other side of the yard. I could tell he thought my efforts were in vain, but not to be outdone, I continued in great attempt to save the shrubbery for transplanting. It would have a life elsewhere. I was determined because deep down I felt convinced that it was a beautiful shrub; just waiting for spring to reveal it's splendor. Well folks...much to my chagrin, and my hubby's prediction (how is he most usually/always right?!), the bush was simply too big, and it's taproot too deep to transplant. With a great heave, I ended it's life with a thrust of my sharp-shooter shovel to the taproot and yanked it from the ground. Having an inkling that there might be something still to be done with the bush, I dragged it around to the side of the house to sit and think about it's life for a while.
The spot in the ground now being vacant, the garden boxes were moved in and filled with dirt, awaiting spring planting. With the spring season approaching, I had been wanting to put a spring-ish wreath on our front door to welcome the changing season. After looking up wreath decorations online, an idea crept over me. I was in need of a wreath to decorate, and I had lovely slender branches hanging out on the side of the house...what was stopping me from making a wreath?!
I pulled out my lovely pair for pruning shears (purchased for me by my amazing husband), and went at the branches with a vengeance. We'd had a rainstorm the day before so the branches were soft and came off pretty easily. Before I knew it, I had a hefty pile to fashion into my wreath.
With a spot on the floor in the sunroom, and a record on the player, I jumped in. Taking a hanger I'd molded into a circle, I used twine to secure a few big branches to the hanger then began wrapping the rest of those babies around and around. And around and around. And around and around and around....and well, you get the idea.
Basically, for this project, I had to get in touch with my inner mother-bird. I didn't know I had an inner mother-bird before this moment. It's quite true. It kind of emerged once the base branches were wrapped and then something just clicked. I started weaving branches in and out like the cold winds were on their way and my baby birds needed shelter asap! Once the wreath was to my preferred thickness, I collapsed amidst my pile of twigs. *phew* My wreath was done!
The final step was to figure out how I wanted to decorate it. I knew I wanted something to reflect the season, and to preferably use materials I already had. I finally decided to make some fabric flowers from one of the million flower tutorials online. I used green and yellow vintagey-lattice fabric, threw a couple buttons on there and *voila*! A little bit of spring to brighten our front door! I love it!
It was planted right smack dab where we were planning to put the garden boxes. **gasp**
Something had to be done.
I looked through all of the tree/plant/shrubbery tags the previous owner has thoughtfully left for us. I had hopes of identifying if it were of a rare, precious variety of shrub in need of my rescuing. Despite my best efforts, helped none by the fact that winter was still upon us and no leaf would yield any identification, I began to dig it up.
I dug and I dug. My husband watched in amusement from the other side of the yard. I could tell he thought my efforts were in vain, but not to be outdone, I continued in great attempt to save the shrubbery for transplanting. It would have a life elsewhere. I was determined because deep down I felt convinced that it was a beautiful shrub; just waiting for spring to reveal it's splendor. Well folks...much to my chagrin, and my hubby's prediction (how is he most usually/always right?!), the bush was simply too big, and it's taproot too deep to transplant. With a great heave, I ended it's life with a thrust of my sharp-shooter shovel to the taproot and yanked it from the ground. Having an inkling that there might be something still to be done with the bush, I dragged it around to the side of the house to sit and think about it's life for a while.
The spot in the ground now being vacant, the garden boxes were moved in and filled with dirt, awaiting spring planting. With the spring season approaching, I had been wanting to put a spring-ish wreath on our front door to welcome the changing season. After looking up wreath decorations online, an idea crept over me. I was in need of a wreath to decorate, and I had lovely slender branches hanging out on the side of the house...what was stopping me from making a wreath?!
I pulled out my lovely pair for pruning shears (purchased for me by my amazing husband), and went at the branches with a vengeance. We'd had a rainstorm the day before so the branches were soft and came off pretty easily. Before I knew it, I had a hefty pile to fashion into my wreath.
With a spot on the floor in the sunroom, and a record on the player, I jumped in. Taking a hanger I'd molded into a circle, I used twine to secure a few big branches to the hanger then began wrapping the rest of those babies around and around. And around and around. And around and around and around....and well, you get the idea.
Basically, for this project, I had to get in touch with my inner mother-bird. I didn't know I had an inner mother-bird before this moment. It's quite true. It kind of emerged once the base branches were wrapped and then something just clicked. I started weaving branches in and out like the cold winds were on their way and my baby birds needed shelter asap! Once the wreath was to my preferred thickness, I collapsed amidst my pile of twigs. *phew* My wreath was done!
The final step was to figure out how I wanted to decorate it. I knew I wanted something to reflect the season, and to preferably use materials I already had. I finally decided to make some fabric flowers from one of the million flower tutorials online. I used green and yellow vintagey-lattice fabric, threw a couple buttons on there and *voila*! A little bit of spring to brighten our front door! I love it!
April 2, 2012
Survivor: Borne Style
Am I the only one, or does it feel like winter snuck (or is it sneeked) by and the BAM...spring arrived in full force? Well, one of the reasons I'm feeling the **BAM** part is because with all the much awaited, beautiful little leaves and flowers in bloom, my body has decided to develop some pollen allergies. Alas, on a recent trip to see the familia, their trees let forth their pollen in time for me to arrive. It's been a good while since I've felt that bad. We're talkin' that congested face-in-a-winched-down-vice-grip feeling, accompanied by excessive brain fog. As if still being on the quest to recover my pre-preggo brains weren't bad enough, pollen pushed me to an even further level of being dazed and clueless.
Once my roadtrip down south (for a beloved friend's wedding!) was complete, the bebe' and I returned home...just in time for our trees, shrubberies, and every growing thing to release their pollen. Yes my friends, that's what I'm calling a double whammy. Nature is conspiring against me.
Thanks to a small arsenal of homeopathic remedies, I am on the mend, and felt well enough to join my husband in what I can only describe as being our version of "Survivor: Home Improvement Edition". I had always looked forward to weekends, but after this one, I was never more glad for it to be over. I teased my husband, asking him to go back to work so that I could get some rest.
The first event of the weekend was planting our seedlings in the garden. Something must have been wrong with the soil I started the tomato seeds in, because my green thumb told me that 6 week old tomato plants should be more than 1 inch tall. *sigh* Our yard-work and household repairs inevitably required a trip to Lowes where I happily found some sturdy heirloom tomato plants to replace my puny ones. As Andrew did some roof repairs, I planted the beauties in the garden boxes with some d.e. powder and fish oil capsules, then watered and mulched them. I'm anxious to see how they fare. **please, oh please, oh please...**
Other conquered obstacles included spreading manure, mowing, edging, tree trimming, chicken coop tending (all accomplished by my wild man), and my reviving flower beds with new black liner, planting new flowers, and mulching. I ended up potting some marigolds in the front and back yard and quite frankly...they make me happy.
As if all of these things weren't enough to put us under, we attacked the mammoth to-do project (drum roll please)....trimming the crepe myrtles. Crepe myrtles are supposed to be significantly trimmed back every year, and as a favorite master gardener of mine jokingly told me, you can "trim the crepe out of em and they'll be just grow right back".
Judging from the wild and wooly state of the trees, the former homeowner turned a blind eye for several years. These beasts were prying their way through our fence, and infringing upon the walking space of the sidewalk. We started with pruning shears, but that only lasted for so long. During our Lowes trip, hubs finally purchased a chainsaw to complete the dreaded task. Even with a power tool on our side, we still had no clue what an enormous project it would turn out to be. Our neighbors must have thought we were crazy; wearing long sleeves and jeans in the blazing sun, branches crashing into the street as we attempted to clear out the overgrowth. Cutting the trees was one thing, but cutting branches down to size to be bundled was another. It took hours. Needless to say, we were incredibly glad to be done with it all at the end of the day!
The final and most delicious act of the weekend was to try out our new grill (thank you Craig's List!). Andrew took it upon himself to buy some fat steaks earlier in the week, and after all the excruciating labor, we were more than happy to try them out. We ended up using sea salt to break down the meat before drizzling them with a mixture of olive oil, crushed garlic and rosemary. 5 minutes a side yielded some juicy pieces of meat. I believe it was a combination of our being worn out, and the deliciousness of the steaks that caused us to, once we finally sat down, savor each bite as if it were out last.
Sunburnt and exhausted, we finished the weekend with our steaks, some tater salad, sliced fruit, and a glass of cab. Though I'm hoping we can take things easier in the coming weekends, it sure was nice to reflect on all the work we did together, and to wake up to see some marigolds smiling at me through the back window.
P.S. Despite my best efforts, I got a sunburn on top of a sunburn. In the past I'd be in a lot of pain, but this time I slapped on (urr...carefully applied) some coconut oil mixed with lavender oil. The lavender takes the misery out of a too-long encounter with Mr. Sunshine. Try it! :)
Once my roadtrip down south (for a beloved friend's wedding!) was complete, the bebe' and I returned home...just in time for our trees, shrubberies, and every growing thing to release their pollen. Yes my friends, that's what I'm calling a double whammy. Nature is conspiring against me.
Thanks to a small arsenal of homeopathic remedies, I am on the mend, and felt well enough to join my husband in what I can only describe as being our version of "Survivor: Home Improvement Edition". I had always looked forward to weekends, but after this one, I was never more glad for it to be over. I teased my husband, asking him to go back to work so that I could get some rest.
The first event of the weekend was planting our seedlings in the garden. Something must have been wrong with the soil I started the tomato seeds in, because my green thumb told me that 6 week old tomato plants should be more than 1 inch tall. *sigh* Our yard-work and household repairs inevitably required a trip to Lowes where I happily found some sturdy heirloom tomato plants to replace my puny ones. As Andrew did some roof repairs, I planted the beauties in the garden boxes with some d.e. powder and fish oil capsules, then watered and mulched them. I'm anxious to see how they fare. **please, oh please, oh please...**
Other conquered obstacles included spreading manure, mowing, edging, tree trimming, chicken coop tending (all accomplished by my wild man), and my reviving flower beds with new black liner, planting new flowers, and mulching. I ended up potting some marigolds in the front and back yard and quite frankly...they make me happy.
As if all of these things weren't enough to put us under, we attacked the mammoth to-do project (drum roll please)....trimming the crepe myrtles. Crepe myrtles are supposed to be significantly trimmed back every year, and as a favorite master gardener of mine jokingly told me, you can "trim the crepe out of em and they'll be just grow right back".
Judging from the wild and wooly state of the trees, the former homeowner turned a blind eye for several years. These beasts were prying their way through our fence, and infringing upon the walking space of the sidewalk. We started with pruning shears, but that only lasted for so long. During our Lowes trip, hubs finally purchased a chainsaw to complete the dreaded task. Even with a power tool on our side, we still had no clue what an enormous project it would turn out to be. Our neighbors must have thought we were crazy; wearing long sleeves and jeans in the blazing sun, branches crashing into the street as we attempted to clear out the overgrowth. Cutting the trees was one thing, but cutting branches down to size to be bundled was another. It took hours. Needless to say, we were incredibly glad to be done with it all at the end of the day!
The final and most delicious act of the weekend was to try out our new grill (thank you Craig's List!). Andrew took it upon himself to buy some fat steaks earlier in the week, and after all the excruciating labor, we were more than happy to try them out. We ended up using sea salt to break down the meat before drizzling them with a mixture of olive oil, crushed garlic and rosemary. 5 minutes a side yielded some juicy pieces of meat. I believe it was a combination of our being worn out, and the deliciousness of the steaks that caused us to, once we finally sat down, savor each bite as if it were out last.
Sunburnt and exhausted, we finished the weekend with our steaks, some tater salad, sliced fruit, and a glass of cab. Though I'm hoping we can take things easier in the coming weekends, it sure was nice to reflect on all the work we did together, and to wake up to see some marigolds smiling at me through the back window.
P.S. Despite my best efforts, I got a sunburn on top of a sunburn. In the past I'd be in a lot of pain, but this time I slapped on (urr...carefully applied) some coconut oil mixed with lavender oil. The lavender takes the misery out of a too-long encounter with Mr. Sunshine. Try it! :)
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