Starting our Barn Expansion

We didn't exactly plan out the location of our barn in wise fashion when we built it ten years ago.  We didn't consider elevation and as you might imagine, we happened to build it on the lowest part of the property.  When it rains (and it rains a lot here), the mud is ankle deep and it is an absolute pain to walk out to the barn.  You can tell the cows are not happy about it either.  Goats don't like to get their feet wet, so you can be sure they hate all the mud around the barn. 

We are going to attack this problem in two ways.  First, we are going to build a 12 foot roof extension off of each side of our barn.  This will give 12 additional feet on either side of the barn for the cows, goats and chickens to get out of the weather.  We milk IN our barn and like to keep it clean.  We don't like to leave animals inside the barn after milking as they are NOT good housekeepers.

We are going to put four 4 x 4's exactly 10 feet out to allow for a 2 foot overhang.  The first thing you want to do is ensure that your building will be square.  We verified this by using the 3, 4, 5 method.  This method is used to find a 90 degree angle and is based off of the Pythagorean Theorem.  This simply states that if you create a triangle by measuring 3 feet out and 4 feet down, when you connect the long side of the triangle and is measures exactly 5 feet, you have a right angle.  ( I should have paid better attention in Geometry class!)

Therefore, we got stakes, string, and a tape measure and staked out where the posts are going to go.  Tricia helped me (as my strong point is NOT math) and we got things squared up and marked.  We marked where the corner posts will go as well as the ones in the middle.

Although I am not a math whiz, I am a PhD. In this case that stands for "post hole digger."  I began digging with the post hole digger until they were buried 2 feet deep in the ground.  My neighbor showed me once how to use a Sharpie and tape measure to put markings on the post hole digger so that you don't have to stop and put your tape measure down the hole to see how deep you are.  This a a good 'hack' that saves lots of time.

It didn't take long.  Once the posts were in the ground, I used a level to make sure it was true and then put cement in the hole to anchor it.  One by one, we got them done.

The real tricky part is keeping the posts true until the cement dries.  Cows love to scratch on posts and I didn't want them to scratch against the posts and knock them all out of whack.  We remedied this by locking the corral and leading the cows in one at a time.  By baby-sitting them like this, they don't have an opportunity to get into mischief.

Now that the posts are in on both sides of the barn, it is time to move forward to the next step.  That step is fastening a header to the barn.  That header will support the rafters.  We may be on hold, though, as more rain is forecast for tomorrow.    We will keep you posted on progress.

Serious Citrus

Saturday morning before getting started for a full day in the garden, I strolled around the yard with my mug of Community Coffee & Chicory.  I was checking out the sights and sounds that I miss out on during the work week.  I was particularly interested in the citrus trees.  Right by the cows' water trough, there is a navel orange tree.  It is the one that is so loaded down with fruit, I have branch supports to keep the limbs from breaking.  The tree has grown a lot and will require some more pruning once we harvest its fruit.

The fruit are all softball-sized and are just starting to change colors from green to orange.  It won't be long now!  Several have prematurely fallen off the tree and I used my pocketknife to cut in half and feed to the cows.  The aroma of fresh cut orange is heavenly!  Rosie and Clarabelle made quick work of the orange and begged for more, but sorry, girls.  Those oranges are for us!

Walking a little to the west, I was checking out one of our tangerine trees.   When the fruit was dark green, it blended into the leaves of the tree and gave me a false suspicion that there weren't going to be many tangerines this year.  Now that the fruit are turning orange and contrasting against the green leaves, I see how wrong my first impression was.

This season looks to be a record crop of both navel oranges and tangerines.

Sadly, our grapefruit tree will not bear fruit this year as it will direct all of its energy toward growing branches instead of fruit.  Next year I'm looking forward to a nice grapefruit crop.  It will still be a couple of months before we pick navel oranges, but Tricia's already begun to pick tangerines.  I like to wait until after a frost as it seems like the cold weather makes them get sweeter!

Clearing the Sweet Potatoes Out to Make Room for the Fall Garden

We harvested a few sweet potatoes week before last, but this weekend I had a large task ahead of me.  With cooler weather and shorter days looming, it is time to get the fall garden in the ground - actually it is past time.  Before planting the fall garden, I first had to harvest all of the sweet potatoes.  The vines had consumed 1/4 of the enter garden space, leaving no room to pull up rows to plant carrots, beets, mustard, radishes, parsley, swiss chard and sugar snap peas.

Saturday morning I rolled out of bed earlier than normal, milked the cows, did the rest of the morning chores, and then got out the garden forks and began to turn over soil, unearthing sweet potatoes and bunches and bunches of earthworms.  The earthworms are proof to me that the garden soil is getting better and better each year.

You can see the lush sweet potato vines that cover the garden.  In the photo below, you can also see the garden forks that I use to turn the soil over in harvesting the sweet potatoes.

As I worked further southward, my bucket of sweet potatoes began to slowly fill with Beauregard Sweet Potatoes.

At night, the sweet potato flowers close.  In the morning, their flowers slowly begin opening.

Soon their lavender flowers with a purple interior is wide open...

As I pulled the vines away from the ground, they exposed many sweet potatoes waiting to be dug up. 

Some sweet potatoes, as shown below, are almost entirely on the top of the ground, Others, like the photo above are only partially exposed.  Some are completely hidden and are only found when you turn the soil over.

Tricia comes out and digs with me and she sorts the sweet potatoes and grades them into different sized onion sacks based on size - Huge, Medium, and Small.  Ultra small will be fed to the cows.  Cows love eating sweet potatoes!  So do people!

The cows and goats and chickens love to eat the sweet potato vines that I toss over the fence.  First, they eat all the leaves off.  Then they begin chewing on the vines themselves.  By the end of the day, there is nothing left!  We like to joke that after eating all that, the milk is sweeter!

We hang the four onion sacks of graded out sweet potatoes in the garage from the "Garfish," our canoe.  They'll hang and cure for a month or so, and then we'll begin to eat them.

This weekend I was able to harvest all of the potatoes.  Now we have room to get the fall garden in!

As Slow as Molasses

I haven't looked at rainfall totals for the year yet, so it is too early to draw any conclusions, but I can tell you this: We had a VERY wet September.  October is usually our driest month of the year, but not this year.  It seems the ground will never dry up!  It has really delayed me from getting in the garden, working up the soil and getting the fall crops planted.  Comparing with previous years, at this time the crops are already growing nicely.  Not this year!  They aren't even in the ground!  My garden progress is moving slower than molasses in the wintertime.

Image Credit

As the clock ticks and the days get shorter, I have fewer and fewer hours of daylight to get things done in the afternoon.  On about 20% of the garden, I have to dig sweet potatoes prior to pulling up rows and planting.  That has been priority 1.  Each afternoon when I get home, I've been pulling up sweet potato vines to feed to the cows and have been turning over the soil with a heavy garden fork and harvesting sweet potatoes.  I've been digging until I can't see any more.  I think I should be able to finish tomorrow night or Saturday morning. 

I'll post photos of the garden and the progress that gets done.  The weather is supposed to (finally) clear up and get nice this weekend.  I'm looking forward to getting everything done.  I'll take lots of photos and will have plenty (I hope) to talk about next week.

You Learn Something New Everyday

I posted night before last about drying up Rosie, our milk cow, at the end of the month. 

Image Credit

While doing a few Internet searches about milk, I stumbled across a doozy of an article.  Apparently, PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) claims that milk is a symbol of white supremacy.  Supposedly, a genetic mutation of Europeans allows white people to be lactose tolerant and therefore able to drink milk.  They say that "The white stuff isn't the right stuff."  You can read the entire article HERE, but I think it is absolute and utter foolishness.  Many of the claims in the article are made up out of whole cloth.

Milk is mentioned numerous times in the Bible, beginning in Genesis 18:8.  God gave people the milk of goats, sheep, camels, and cows for food.  He brought the Israelites into a "land flowing with milk (it wasn't soy milk, either!) and honey," and He gave us dominion over the animals.  We are to to be kind to our animals according to: Proverbs 12:10 “Whoever is righteous has regard for the life of his beast, but the mercy of the wicked is cruel.”  We take good care of our animals as directed in Proverbs 27:23 “Know well the condition of your flocks, and give attention to your herds.” 

Much of the article denigrates people who are not vegans and uses powerfully charged words to describe life on some dairy farms.  I believe in freedom.  If someone chooses to be a vegan, that is their business.  I won't denigrate them or call them names for not drinking milk or eating meat.  We do milk cows and goats in our family.  We drink the milk and make ice cream and kefir.  We are fond of our family cows and treat them well.  We are appreciative of the milk they give us.  Oh, and we are NOT white supremacists.

Milk Production Has Fallen Off

Back in the spring, we were milking Rosie, Clarabelle and Luna and the fridge was stocked with fresh milk.  The grass in the pasture was green and tender, resulting in milk with a big head of cream on top.

Now we find ourselves knocking on the door of November.  The first front has blown in, bringing with it chilly mornings and the first leaves are starting to fall from the trees.  The grass is about to go dormant and lots of it has gone to seed.  Yes, the seasons are changing. And it is also time to change up our routine.

In exactly eight days, we'll stop milking Rosie.  Rosie is pregnant and will be calving in early January.  We always stop milking the cows two months prior to their calving date to give them time to "rest up." That gives them time to shift their energies from producing milk to nourishing the growing calf within them.

Milk production is all about supply and demand.  Since she is only making about a gallon of milk per day, we can stop milking cold turkey and not have to worry about having problems.  We'll simply stop milking her, cut down on her feed a little and she'll dry up.  She'll freshen (milk production begins) in January when she calves.  At that point we'll have to milk her again, but for the next couple months, we'll enjoy the break.

Saturday In Baton Rouge

Saturday was our 28th Anniversary.  Benjamin and my nephew had tickets to the LSU vs. Mississippi State game and so Tricia wanted to drive them to Baton Rouge and have a picnic on campus near the lakes.  We arrived in Baton Rouge, dropped off Benjamin and Brooks, got a parking spot and began to walk around. 

Since it was Homecoming, we walked to Sorority/Fraternity Row and watched the Homecoming Parade.  The theme of Homecoming was Purple Reign.  The decorations were elaborate and pomping has really evolved from when we did it 30 years ago.  Pomping is when you take sheets of different colored tissue paper and poke into chicken wire.  The detail of pomping in 2018 is leaps and bounds ahead of what we did in the 80's.  Just check this out:

It is really amazing to look at. 

Here is another impressive one.  I wish I had walked over and taken some close-ups.

While there we saw a bunch of white pelicans flying.  The State bird of Louisiana is the Brown Pelican.  These white ones are different.  They come by the thousands each year to the lakes.  They are huge birds and quite a spectacle to see.

They weren't the only "birds" flying on Saturday.  We watched as US Navy F-18's practiced for the flyover a little later prior to the National Anthem in Tiger Stadium.  The fighter jets were really, really loud and they thundered over-head.

It started raining and so Tricia and I took shelter under the Lod Cook Hotel and Conference Center canopy.  Cole Tracy, LSU's kicker, came walking right by.  He ended up being 4 for 4 in field goals and 1/1 in extra points.  He was the leading scorer for the evening and led the Tigers to victory over 22 ranked Mississippi State.

The team buses arrived to pick up the players while we were having our picnic.  Tricia bought a "little red-riding hood picnic basket" and we filled it with cheese and crackers, bagels, cream cheese, smoked salmon and capers, olives and chocolate.  We relaxed by the side of the lake and exchanged anniversary cards (and a kiss or two)! 

We walked across and got a chance to talk to Coach O and told him we were proud of him and "Geaux Tigers!"

We also saw LSU QB Joe Burrow (AKA Jeaux Burreaux) as he was getting his "game face" on.

All in all it was a relaxing day.  We drove home later that night.  Tricia and I have been married for 28 years and it was a nice day to celebrate a very happy marriage.

I Knead You

“Good bread is the most fundamentally satisfying of all foods; and good bread with fresh butter, the greatest of feasts.” 
― James Beard


Tricia has had a Sour dough culture started and yesterday was time to turn this thing into bread.  I popped the top and sniffed it.  So good and yeasty!

Tricia poured the right amount in a bowl and added some fresh-ground kamut and spelt flour to the bowl and stirred in.

It took a little working with to get the consistency right.  It was either too dry or too sticky.  It has to be just right to be able to knead the bread properly.

Tricia began working the bread on the counter, sprinkling flour, rolling, pushing down...

The amount of dough was enough to make two loaves, so the dough was separated into two equal parts.

She put it into loaf pans and allowed them to rise overnight, punched them down and allowed them to rise again and then put them in the oven to bake.

Today while at work I received a text from Tricia telling me that she had just pulled them out of the oven.   Aren't they nice looking?

I began counting the minutes until quitting time, imagining the smell of warm homemade bread as well as the taste of hot sour dough bread with room temperature butter being spread on top of it.  As soon as I got home, I rushed to the counter and got a slice or two.  It was delicious!  Soft center with a crispy crust.  Nothing quite like hot homemade sour dough bread!

I'lll Huff and I'll Puff and I'll Blow Your House Down...

I read yesterday that at the end of the school year, they'll be demolishing Kirby Smith Hall on the LSU Campus and replacing it with a new, modern dormitory.  Kirby Smith Hall was named after the Confederate brigadier general Edmund Kirby Smith, who led the CSA to victory over the Union at Red River in April 1864.  The fact that it wasn't re-named due to its (now) politically incorrect namesake is an enigma for sure.  It was built in 1965 and many generations of LSU students lived there and probably have many memories of living there like I do.

It was the dormitory I lived in when I was a freshman at LSU.  I lived in Room 1407 on the 14th floor.  Actually it was the 13th floor, but for superstitious reasons, there was no 13th floor.  The floor plan was set up in suites where two, two person bedrooms shared a bathroom in the middle.  Each floor had a little kitchenette area with a microwave and a stove.  I heated up many a can of Campbell's Chunky Sirloin Burger soup in that room.  The architecture of Kirby Smith Dorm really didn't fit it with the Italian Renaissance design of the rest of the campus.  It rises up and dominates the skyline.  You can see it from the I-10 bridge, for the time being anyway.  The pale nondescript bricks of the lego block building just stood in stark contrast to the elegance and beauty of the huge live oak trees that cover the campus.

As I think about my time there, several things come to mind.  First and foremost, the smell of the elevators.  Oh my goodness, I can close my eyes and the smell stench comes roaring back and attacks my olfactory senses, even after the passage of 30 years of time.  The smell within the four walls of the Otis elevator was an amalgamation of vomit, urine, stale beer, and sweat.  Or perhaps something died in there?  The trip down to the ground floor was a daily challenge to see if you could hold your breath for that long.  Oftentimes, I opted to walk down 13 flights of stairs to avoid the putrefaction.

From my room overlooking campus on the 14th floor, I could see my roommates coming and going.  One day we saw my roommate coming from across campus and we quickly moved his furniture and all of his belongings into the elevator and sent it down to the ground floor to meet him.  He was not amused.  Our room had a great view of campus.  You could look down and see the "Enchanted Forest," the Greek Theatre, Pentagon dormitories, the Indian Mounds, The Parade Grounds, and Tiger Stadium!  It was exceedingly hot as the air conditioning worked intermittently.  We jimmied the locks on the window to allow breezes to blow in the room.  We could then easily yell at our roommates from the room.

Before big football games, some people with too much time on their hands passed out directions to each dorm room to either leave your lights on or off and curtains open.  The results left clever messages spelled out about our opponent for all to see for miles around.  One night we figured out how to get onto the roof of Kirby Smith Hall.  It was a beautiful vantage point to see the stars and lights around campus.  I remember it was around Halloween when we climbed up there and pumpkins may or may not have been tossed off the top of the building to watch them explode after hitting the ground after dropping for 13 stories.   

I remember not getting much sleep while living there as at least nightly one of the 577 residents thought it would be a good idea to pull the fire alarm.  It was an all-guys dorm and it was very noisy even when the fire alarm wasn't sounding.  I met many friends during my stay in Kirby Smith Dorm and still keep in touch with some of them to this day.

Some time soon Kirby Smith Dormitory will come crashing down into a pile of rubble, leaving nothing but memories of the first year away from home in a freshman dorm.  I'm wondering if, even after Kirby Smith is gone, will the odor of the elevators still waft through the humid air and permeate campus with foul aromas?

Did a Little Sweet Potato Diggin' on Sunday

Each year for as long as I can remember, sweet potatoes sprout up on their own in the spring.  My guess is that they were originally rooted from sweet potatoes that we composted.  Now each year when we dig them, we'll invariably miss some and they'll sprout up the following year.  It's kind of neat - a crop you never have to plant.

So each October I have a process in harvesting them.  It goes like this: I begin pulling on the heavy sweet potato vines that cover the ground, breaking them off or cutting them with a shovel.  I'll toss them over the garden fence where the cows are impatiently waiting.  They absolutely love sweet potato vines.  They'll first eat all of the leaves off of the vines.  Then they'll go back and eat the vines themselves.  We like to think that it makes their milk taste sweeter the next day, but it may just be a figment of our imagination.

Then I'll get a shovel or garden forks and begin turning over the soil.  This exposes the sweet potatoes and I'll gather them and put them in a bucket.  Sometimes the sweet potatoes are completely underground and you can't see them and you'll cut right through them with a shove.  But sometimes, like in the photo below, they're somewhat exposed, and you can carefully pry them up out of the ground.

It's kind of like digging for treasure!  With a little digging, some nice sweet potatoes can be exposed.

Any small roots, or those I've accidentally cut into, are saved in a bucket to feed the cows.  They like sweet potatoes more than I do.  The nice ones, however, are saved for us!

Here is a little perspective on the size of these sweet potatoes.  This is a nice-sized one.  To be honest, I like the medium-sized ones the best, as the giant ones tend to be a little "stringy."

It took no time to fill a 5 gallon bucket.  I have many more hours of sweet potato digging to do, however.  We have a cool front blowing through, so it will be nice sweet potato digging weather.

Tricia came out and kept me company while I dug some of them.  She'll be cooking all of the sweet potatoes.  It is truly farm to table and honestly, sweet potatoes are one of the easiest crops to grow.  The photos above all show Beauregard variety, but I also have some "Golden Wonder" heirloom variety that pop up each year.

I estimate that I have maybe four or five hours of digging up the rest of the sweet potatoes.  The cows will certainly be very happy to eat more vines.  I hung the sweet potatoes from the rafters in the garage in an onion sack, and they'll cure there for a couple of months.  Can't wait to eat 'em up!!

Udderly humorous

Thought this was a good, funny way to start the week...

A Barn With Character

If you drive a few minutes north from our house up Highway 26 and look to the west, you'll see a barn with a lot of character.  I've always liked it.  Forgive my photo.  It is off-center and out of focus.  I almost missed it, but I caught enough of it to show you what I'm talking about.

The painting on the side of the barn depicts a rooster.  A very proud rooster with his head held high as he high steps with tail feathers announcing his presence to all the hens in the barnyard.  He rules over the hens.  It is his barnyard.  Behind him are the first rays of sunlight radiantly outlining the majesty of the cock of the walk. 

To me the barn painting exudes confidence and optimism.  I like our barn, I really do, but our barn is just... red.  You can see a photo of it at the top of the page.  We have several proud roosters that crow loudly to welcome the new day, but I think if I looked outside each morning and saw a rooster like this one, proudly emblazoned on the side of my barn, it would get me moving faster than a cup of black coffee.

Roosters are self-assured and assertive and they may have had something to do with Scarlett O'Hara's feisty, never quit, dogged determination at the end of "Gone With The Wind:"

“He had never known such gallantry as the gallantry of Scarlett O'Hara going forth to conquer the world in her mother's velvet curtains and the tail feathers of a rooster.” 
― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind

Probably there was a rooster like this painted on the side of the barn at Tara.

What the Whooping Crane Can Teach us About Survival

The day before yesterday I posted about how Tricia, Benjamin and I were driving down a back road and came across 3 Whooping Cranes.  Whooping Cranes are endangered species.  In 1941 there were 21 wild and 2 captive whooping cranes left in the world!  They were facing extinction.  There seemed to be no hope.  Today there are around 800.  And we had the opportunity to see these three not far from where we live.  They stand taller than 4 feet high and are remarkable to see.

These tough birds are survivors.  Determined.  Strong.  Resilient.  Resolute.

So it got me to thinking.  Perhaps the Whooping Cranes can tell us a thing or two about how to survive difficult, if not dire, circumstances.  In times of potential civil unrest or economic upheaval, one might look to the whooping cranes for survival tips.  Here's what they told me (Not really):

First of all, live in the country.  Notice that these birds are in the middle of a field, in the middle of nowhere.  They aren't in the middle of a city around a bunch of people.  Being in the country gives them ample room to look for food, to hide, to have privacy.  Wide open spaces give them a buffer zone between themselves and predators.  If one can see their enemy coming, they have time to engage the fight or flight reflex.  In crowded cities there is competition for limited resources.  When you take the back roads and "put a little gravel in your travel," things are simpler, more quiet, and more safe.

Secondly, stick with those you love.  If you'll notice, the three whooping cranes are not all by themselves.  They are a close-knit family.  They've got each other's backs.  They aren't loners, trying to be tough and make it on their own.  They depend on one another for companionship, safety, and help.  United we stand, divided we fall.  This bird family sticks together.  Our families should stick together.  Additionally, it helps to have a small church family that looks out for one another and rejoices with you when you rejoice and cries with you when you cry.  First and foremost, stick with God.  He is your Shield, your Portion, your Rock, your strong Tower.  He loves you unconditionally and watches over you in the midst of your darkest hours.

Finally, holler for help if you need it.  The Whooping Crane is called the whooping crane because of the loud noise they make.  According to Wikipedia, their calls are loud and can be heard for miles.  They have a "guard call" to warn each other of danger.  They have another "unison call" that they jointly call when defending their territory.  As people, when we are having trouble, we can reach out.  First, to God.  He is there to answer our prayers - from the smallest request to the deepest cry of our hearts.  We don't have to bear the whole burden alone.  Additionally, our family and friends are there to help us in our time of need.

“Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.”  ― Lucius Annaeus Seneca

The Whooping Cranes defied the odds.  At one time you could almost count all of them in the world on your fingers and toes.  Now, they are courageously making a come-back.  I guess we can learn a thing or two from them!

A Rare Sight Indeed

This Sunday afternoon after church, we loaded up in Benjamin's truck and headed off to my parent's home in Kinder.  It is a 30 mile drive north and west from Jennings.  We like to take the back roads to get there.  As we turned due west on the last leg of the trip, I spotted three white birds standing in a rice field.  They were about 20 yards from the road.  They were so tall, so out of place, I immediately knew what they were - Whooping Cranes!

Whooping Cranes are on the endangered species list.   A quick search on Wikipedia informed me that back in 1941 there were only 23 birds.  Now there are over 800.  The whooping crane is North America's tallest bird, standing well over 4 feet tall, with a wingspan of over 7.5 feet wide.  We pulled over on the side of the road and just watched them for a while until a car drove up from behind us and we had to move on.

The map shows that they breed up in Canada, migrate down to winter on the Texas-Louisiana Gulf coast.  Some stay year-round, though. 

They were on the brink of extinction due to habitat loss, predators, such as bobcats, alligators, and wolves, but mostly because of illegal hunting.  It was great to be able to watch these majestic birds and know that you are looking at 3 of only 800 in the world, but I wanted to tell these guys to pick a more secluded spot.  I don't want them to end up in a gumbo.