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Hi Everyone,
Years ago when my brother David landed in Kuwait, he called home (and emailed home), and all that he could say was, “It is HOT, it is HOT, it is HOT.” Thankfully it doesn’t get that HOT here in Florida, but last Monday and Tuesday were pretty hot. By 10:00 in the morning the heat index was reading 113. We did manage to spend all day outside Monday (some fared better than others)—but come Tuesday, we were all glad to spend the afternoon inside packaging eggs, after we spent one hour weeding in the garden. My goal on Monday and Tuesday was to get the red sweet potato rows (and the garden bed that they “sleep” in) all weeded. I had Carry take a before picture, and when I showed it to Mom—who had been mowing when we started, she said, “O how nice, the sweet potatoes are starting to fill in.” I quickly corrected her by telling her that those were not sweet potatoes, they were all weeds. You couldn’t see the sweet potatoes due to the weeds. Therefore, all day Monday, and an hour Tuesday I spent weeding those sweet potatoes—with some help from Mom once the tire went flat on the lawn mower. I got one row uncovered by Monday evening, and the poor sweet potato vines were looking pretty droopy due to the heat—and their shade having been removed. As we were cleaning up, the sky was getting blacker and blacker to the south of us. I prayed that God would have mercy on our poor garden and send that rain our way—but alas, it never arrived. Tuesday morning we turned on the sprinklers, and the sweet potatoes perked right up. Tuesday night was a repeat of Monday night with the sky turning black, praying for rain—but it never arriving. Wednesday afternoon was a different story though. God’s timing is always perfect! Around 3:00 it started to rain—and we got over an inch. While it came down hard at first, it turned into nice showers for the rest of the evening. God’s timing was perfect because if it had rained Monday or Tuesday—Papa would have had to do all the chores in the rain. On Wednesday afternoon there were no outside chores to do—and we could sit inside and relax while the Lord watered our grasses and garden goodies.
Last Saturday a neighbor down the road stopped Papa as he was doing chores in the lower 65, down near the road. He told Papa that his Great Pyrenees dog had a litter of puppies 9 weeks ago, and he had been able to find homes for all but two of them. He knew that we had lots of animals, and said that if we wanted one of the pups—he would just give it to us. So, Monday night Mom and I headed over to check out the puppies (both females). Mom’s method for choosing was whichever one came up to us and was friendly. One was bigger and cuter, but it came to greet us and stopped and sat down to look at us about 6 feet away. The littler one came right up to Mom and sat down at her feet asking for attention. She still needed a few shots, so the man said that he would bring her by either Tuesday or Thursday. Tuesday night right when I finished dinner—as in taking the perfectly cooked steaks hot out of the oven, and just straining the potatoes to make mashed potatoes—Papa came inside carrying the puppy. The timing wouldn’t have been so bad if the puppy hadn’t been covered in fleas. Therefore, for the next hour Mom, Papa, and I stood around the big sink in the garage and gave the puppy a bath—and removing all her fleas. She will need another bath tomorrow, for I believe that we missed a few. The little puppy is very sweet and friendly, very smart, and needs a name. I have searched high and low for an appropriate name. Since she is our eighth Great Pyrenees, I tried “eight” in different languages since Sheba is our seventh Great Pyrenees and her name is Hebrew for seven—but “eight” didn’t sound good in any language. I tried all kinds of ideas, but nothing was sounding great until I came upon “Yasha”. It is Hebrew for defender, and means to “Keep Safe”. Since that is exactly what the puppy will be doing—keeping our animals safe, it seemed like just the perfect name. That is until I slept on it, and went outside the next morning and said, “Hi Yasha.” “Come Yasha.” “Sit Yasha.” And then I wasn’t so sure that I liked the name. It looks good on paper, and the meaning is great—but actually using it to call your dog is different. Papa wondered why we just cannot have a simple name—like “Lady”, but I do not want any “Tramps” hanging out around here. So we are on another name quest. Papa keeps asking Mom what she wants for their anniversary—of which they celebrate their 45th this Thursday, July 25th. Years ago our second Great Pyrenees, Archo, died on their anniversary—he was ten years old, and happily died of old age. Maybe they could count the new puppy as an anniversary gift? One of the best ways to train a new puppy is to let the older dogs train it. Well, we would love for it to guard the sheep. Jill was raised as a guard dog to goats for two years, but she has a habit of going under the hot wire and coming up in the yard. Sheba on the other hand did not make a good sheep dog, but is an excellent chicken guard dog—and after being shocked once, she doesn’t get near the hot wire. The puppy is supposed to be three months old before we send her out to pasture, so we have a little bit more time to figure it out. In the meantime, she stays in a kennel in the yard so that we can get her used to us, and well socialized with everyone that comes to the farm.
Apples are for northerners and pears are for us southerners. Apples are very hard to grow here in Florida, but pears thrive. Our friend Emily has a few pear trees in her yard, and the pears are starting to fall to the ground—so she is happily putting them up for future use, and sharing them with others. When a pear tree produces—it produces! Wednesday Emily gifted us with three Walmart size bags full of pears. Thursday—after we milked the cows, bottled the milk, bought some groceries and picked up 50 chicks from the Post Office, cleaned up the kitchen, made yogurt, and ate lunch—we canned 26 quarts of pears. We started at 2:00, and finished at 6:30. We were ever so thankful for the four extra hands we had to help us. The neighbor girl, Carry, has been helping us here on the farm all summer. Last Tuesday her sister, Leslie, came over to spend the rest of the summer helping us also. Having two teenage girls helping us every day has truly been a lot of fun. Leslie helped us during the summer four years ago. While not all farming is fun and games—they have their favorites, like feeding the cows while we milk them. Carry’s favorite cow is Sunshine who is known to finish eating and then rub her food covered mouth on Carry’s shirt asking her for more food. This cow loves seconds! We feed the cows three scoops of alfalfa pellets, and Sunshine always asks for seconds. If we give her four to begin with, that doesn’t count—she wants seconds! One day Sunshine finished eating, put her head on Carry’s chest, and burped in her face—Carry found it most precious. Their second favorite thing is the baby chicks that arrive every other week. Now there is the new puppy. Carry enjoys packaging the chickens after we process them, and both girls enjoy our weekly egg packaging party. Thursday afternoon their endurance was put to the test as they peeled pears. First Leslie washed them all while Mom, Carry, and I peeled them. Then Leslie joined us around the island for the pear peeling party. Everyone peeled, but Mom and I cut the pears in half and cored them. Then they were placed in a bowl of lemon water. Once we had a bowl full, Mom began to can the pears:
1. Bring equal parts of apple juice and water to a boil.
2. Add the pears, bring back to a boil, and boil for 2 minutes.
3. Ladle pears and hot liquid into hot jars (just fill up with hot water, let sit a little and then dump out).
4. Place in a water bath canner that has enough water in it to cover the jars by a few inches.
5. Cover with lid and bring to a boil.
6. Boil quarts for 25 minutes and pints for 20.
7. Remove from heat and let cool.
While Mom canned, the girls peeled, and I cut and cored the pears. At first the piled of washed pears didn’t seem to ever get smaller—then finally the last strainer full was on the counter. The last pear was peeled at 5:45, and the girls headed home. The nice thing—they never complained all day! We did reevaluate how many of our own pear trees we wanted to grow. Just maybe one will be enough—but I think that they need a pollinator. We hope to do some more pears soon, but this time we want to make some pear butter. Mom recently found out that she is allergic to pectin—so that rules out all jellies and jams. I was reading a blog by the Prairie Homesteader the other day and she was talking about fruit butters—they do not require pectin. Hmm! That sounds like a great idea. I know where to get some pears, but where can we found a case of organic peaches?
Friday was the big day! We had a little over 40 chickens to process—after we milked the cows and ate lunch. We got started around 1:00, and we were done processing and packaging the parts by 4:00. Getting done early allowed me to have time to cook the lamb chops that I had intended to cook Thursday night—but had no energy to accomplish after standing in the kitchen all afternoon. We ended up having salad with chicken and beans. So, Friday night we had Sweet and Sour Lamb Chops, Butternut Squash, and Green Peas. Then we were able to relax for the rest of the evening.
Saturday we milked the cows, bottled the milk, packed the Gainesville orders, ate lunch and headed to the Poultry Kitchen to package the chickens. We packaged some whole, and we cut up eight of them into backs, wings, legs, thighs, and breasts. It was 4:00 when we finished, and while Mom cleaned up, I headed to the garden to harvest the okra, yard long beans, and everglade tomatoes. I also harvested another of the Golden Midget watermelons. I picked the first one last Monday—and it failed the taste test. It had very little flavor, and tons of seeds—which left very little “watermelon” to eat. I will give it a second chance before I feed them all to the chickens. While out there I realized that the lima beans are ready to harvest, and I found the first ripe Rouge Vif d’Etampes, or a Cinderella Pumpkin. I had walked out to the garden—because Papa needed the Gravely to gather the eggs for the evening. Once my big basket was full of okra, beans, tomatoes, a little watermelon, and a spaghetti squash—it was quite heavy. Then I harvested the pumpkin which weighed 15 pounds. I was not sure how I was going to get my load to the house. I started out with the pumpkin in one arm, and the basket in the other arm. That didn’t last too far. I stopped at the bench in the raised bed garden, and wished that I was talented enough to carry the pumpkin on my head like the ladies do in foreign countries. Not willing to give it a try, I placed the pumpkin in my basket on top of everything else. I made it to the other side of the garden and deposited them on the garden sink. I wondered if Papa might drive by anytime soon—but I realized that the sky was getting pretty black, and I did not want to get caught in any rain. Then I spotted the wheel barrow—and all was perfect! I placed the basket and the pumpkin in the wheelbarrow and headed home. I found the gate to the puppies kennel open, and while I was looking for her, Papa came up with the puppy sitting in the floor of the Gravely—he had taken her to do chores with him. She didn’t get to meet Jill, but Sheba found her quite interesting. On the other hand—the chickens in the poultry barnyard found her most “scary”. Once inside I cooked some Oven-fried Chicken Drumsticks, okra, and a butternut squash casserole.
Birds of a feather are known to flock together, and yesterday afternoon Mom and I spotted a flock of about 15 female Brown-headed cowbirds on our back porch. Some were hot and had their wings all spread out—cooling off. On the rose arbor in the backyard we saw two red-bellied woodpeckers. They were hanging around on the arbor, and darting in and out of the rose vine. Most of the time we see mockingbirds “flirting” in the rose vines.
I hope that you have a blessed week, and thankfully it should be cooler.
Serving you with Gladness,
Tiare