DaisyMae



We lost our little DaisyMae last month. It took me this long to get thru photos.

 

 

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Hanging in the sun

Hanging in the sun

2010-11-08 07.50.162010-11-12 07.11.152010-11-22 15.36.112010-11-24 17.56.322010-11-28 10.29.062010-11-28 10.30.18 HDR2010-12-15 20.07.512011-01-01 08.50.402011-01-18 08.47.432011-01-23 09.13.082011-02-02 10.35.042011-02-23 17.58.082011-02-28 13.55.522011-03-02 06.39.542011-03-15 07.30.192011-04-09 19.15.542011-04-22 22.41.072011-04-23 16.34.312011-05-16 15.05.452011-05-24 16.24.472011-06-24 16.18.49

 

 

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Husk Cherries

Lots of Husk Cherries

Garlic Chives and lots of bees

Acorn Squash

Hanging in the sun



 

Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life. ~Rachel Carson

Here’s the Patch in Pictures…August edition.


DaisyPatch Farm.

Thanks to Mrs. Cheever’s neighbors, there is now a law in North Hampton that, with less than 4 acres of property, we can have, “…no more than 12 poultry per lot and…husbandry of poultry that includes one or more roosters shall require a Conditional Use Permit as provided under subparagraph 4, below…

4.  The following process shall be used…

a. An application shall be submitted to the planning board…

b. Boring

c. The Planning Board shall conduct a public hearing for which proper notice has been given to abutters and the public. (Read…they notify our neighbors that we want a rooster so that our neighbors can come to the public hearing and dispute. Yes. THAT is what this says.)

d. The Planning Board shall have authority to impose reasonable conditions of approval that the board deems appropriate (huh?)

e. Boring, something about fees that didn’t make sense cuz no dollar figures were listed. Whatever.

f. Animal Density…something about best management practices for manure handling based upon the New Hampshire Department of Agriculture manual entited, “Best Management Practices for Handling of Compost, Fertilizer and Manure” (which shall, from here on in, be called the SHIT SHEET).

g. Burden of Proof. Blah blah blah stating you need to demonstrate and specify the manner in which the operation shall be conducted in compliance with THIS pamphlet and that rule and this law and that law AND to demonstrate that the Animal Husbandry operation shall not cause pollution, soil degradation, unreasonable odor, unreasonable noise and disturbance of the peace. (No mess, no smell, no noise, did you hear us? We said NO NOISE! Get it, stupid?)

ARE YOU F’ING KIDDING ME?

So, let’s say it all together, shall we? On three. One. Two. Three. “Thanks Mrs. Cheever’s neighbors.”

It makes one little homesteader-wanna-be consider just walking away from the idea of getting little cluckers altogether. (She folds her arms, sticks her lips out in a pout and stomps her foot. But I want an Ooompa Loompa NOW.)

Jaws set in determination, we figuratively stuck out our tongues, said, “Nana nana boo boo” and set out during the rainy (well, depressingly drizzly) Saturday of Memorial Weekend to look at chicken coops that were for sale in the area. (Craig’s List. It’s not just for massages and murders.) (Ok, that was wrong. Very wrong, but I am laughing so hard I had a coughing fit and so I think I’m keeping it.)

One was used and a decent price, but, well, a bit beat up (too hard). One was brand new, a guy custom built them, but seemed rickety (too soft). One was brand new, perfect size, shape and super sturdy. AND it was built by the Amish (juuuuust right). (I mean, thems good builders, right?) Alas, we have no truck. (Yes, we have no bananas.) So, it stayed at Agway and we went home. We weren’t ready anyway. Homework. I must do much homework.

This past Friday afternoon, I came home after work and sat at the breakfast bar. DaisyMae was quite happy I was home and would NOT leave me alone. So, without even taking my post-commute-pee (it’s a 50 minute drive I’ll have you know), I grabbed the orange soccer ball and tried to walk without tripping on the INSANE dog as we headed out to the back yard, asking Keith if he wanted to come play with us. You know, bulldog in the middle. It’s a great game. Also, Keith and I could walk the yard and plan on where the coop could go.

Several minutes of soccer passed (DaisyMae is a very good guard), and I noticed sticks and leaves all through the yard from the windstorm the night before. Why Keith was filming this little game of ball was beyond me, but I thought I’d share it. Click here.

I have the best hubby ever.


As I sat at the breakfast bar watching Keith prepare an evening snack last night (carbs were necessary, we were still recovering from the New Year’s Eve party), I was hit by a sudden thought, “It’s January 1st, 2011,” I said. “Yup” was his reply.

It was a short exchange, but full of meaning. Interesting, I didn’t ask it as a question. I just said it out loud as I realized it. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, I do not stay up until 2AM drinking champagne with best friends very often (although, hm, that sounds sort of nice. Add that to the resolution list!) 2010 flew by. It brought many ups and many downs, but overall, I am grateful and thankful for all that we have – health, home, friends, jobs, each other (yes, I am a sap and just choked up a little as I type this. Those who know me will not be suprised. Those who are just getting to know me through this little blog – let me introduce myself. My name is Jenn, and I am a sap. When Mr. Brady scolded Marcia for sneaking around when she was grounded, but she actually was mailing her nomination for him for Father of the Year, I bawled like a colicky infant. If someone gets engaged, even in a movie, forgedduboudit! Get the tissues.)

As I look forward to the new year in front of me, I find myself doing what I always do at this time. You know the resolutions, every magazine in the grocery check-out aisle around this time of year feeds to our desire to change, “Lose 10 Pounds in 7 Days Just by Changing Your Shampoo” or “Pluck Your Way to a Happier, Healthier You With These Revolutionary Tweezers” and of course, “Reduce Stress Like a Celebrity, Only Legally. Page 79 Shows You How.”

These aren’t the type of resolutions I want to make (although, one too many cookies has been ingested, so perhaps meneeds to rethink this…)

Anyway, changes will be along the lines of frugality and self-sufficiency. We plan to expand our little homestead, hopefully being able to build the coop and get chickens this year. (Yes, it’s definitely about eggs and meat, but I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that a small part of me wants to say “Dorking Cock” on a daily basis. It makes me giggle.)

I think I’m pretty good at it, but I would like to continue to recognize the beauty in every day and be thankful for what we have.

I would like to waste less. If we don’t eat it, it’ll go in the compost pile to be used on the garden. (And, yes, dear Erica, this does mean I plan to wash more ZipLoc bags than ever. I am NOT crazy, I just can’t stand the thought of all that plastic in the landfill just because I wanted convenience.)

I want to try more things…new plant varieties, new sports, new hobbies. I tried stained glass last year, but Keith tried to get me on the mountain bike with no luck, maybe this year is the year.

I am not going to go overboard here. I am realistic. These plans sound pretty good for now, although, maybe I’ll go get some of those tweezers…Happy New Year. Thanks for visiting the Daisy Patch.

*******

For those of you who need pictures, here are a few…

Basement Basil

Pineapple Sage

Flower Bud on a Christmas Cactus

DaisyMae


My November gardening haiku…ahem…

Useful frost blankets

Thanks for keeping the ground warm

So veggies can grow

It is almost Thanksgiving and I snipped baby greens and pulled some carrots last night for dinner. How cool is that? Technically, 27f cool.  That has been our lowest nighttime temp and there’s no sign of distress. I have the carrots tucked into salt marsh hay (god that shit is like velcro. I got it over 1 month ago and continue to pick the strands from my trunk. Lesson? Line the ENTIRE trunk with plastic next time, do not just lay down one piece and expect the trunk to be sparkling clean after bringing home a bale of salt marsh hay).

Tonight’s dinner: Crispy Chicken with Soba Noodle salad (containing our carrots!) Tomorrow we will be having roasted root vegetables with a Shiitake mushroom risotto. Yum.

Let’s go for a Winter walk in the Kitchen Garden..

Mixed greens in the foreground. Varietals in the back.

 

Golden Oregano

Catnip

I had some Dusty Miller in a pot with Dracaena in the strawberry patch. I like how the grey/silver looks against the red strawberry leaves.

Kind of a neat variety of carrot (my way of saying, I don't remember...)

Garlic Chive seeds just hanging out in the dead flowers.

Daisy Mae (a.k.a. PooperDoopers) hanging out under my feet as I blog at the breakfast bar.


My mosquito haiku…ahem

Dreaded mosquitos

I beg you, stop biting me

It makes me itchy

First topic: Garlic Scapes.  I was quite disappointed to see Scapes at the Farmers’ Market. We didn’t have any. Waah. Garlic Scapes were one of the things, besides Husk Cherries, that we discovered when members of the CSA a few years ago. Nummy. So, when I weeded the Chef’s Garden and didn’t see any Scapes, I was bummed, to say the least. Great. What kind of Garlic did we buy cuz I didn’t want to buy it again. I want scapes (in my best Veruca  impression, “But I want an Oompaloompa now!) 

The next day, what to my wondering eyes should appear? Garlic Scapes. Lots of them.  Whoopee!

Now what? I didn’t like the Garlic Scape pesto recipe I used last year.

Topic #2. I weeded. What? What are you saying, Mr. Dandelion? You’re telling me that if you weed a little bit each day, it is an easier task than waiting until 2 months into the season? Kiss my ass and then rot in the compost heap. On a good note, I found carrot, parsnip and cucumber seedlings. Hooray. I also found some husk cherry and a few tomato seedlings. That’s kind of cool. We’ve had that happen before – a tomato would fall from the vine and leave a seed in the ground, only to make it through the Winter and start growing in the Spring. I had to pull the tomatoes. This was the same garden bed that had the tomatoes last year and we were hit by the late season blight. After doing some reading (thank you Google and several gardening blogs I have decided to follow), I read that you need to not plant tomatoes in the same bed for three years, so I figured I wouldn’t risk it. I pulled that baby and gave it a little heave into the “pile” on top of the twigs, sticks and icky, decomposed things.

On a bad (good?) note, I think I weeded anything that might have been a beet.

Topic #3. Surprise. Our Green Beans are beaning. Greening? Green Beaning? Sporting Beanage? (sniggle).  We ate tonight’s harvest for dinner tonight!

 Yes, Mom, I’m eating my veggies! All 5 of them. Ooh, so full. (This is the type of veggie serving where you really hoped Mom would say, “You can’t eat any dessert until you eat all your green beans.” “Done. No, I didn’t spit them in my napkin. No, I didn’t feed them to the dog. I really ate them, see?” as you wave your napkin to show it is empty & waggle your tongue to show there are no green beans hidden underneath.)

Funny how I used to HATE green beans as a kid. Hate. Gag, actually. I really did. I couldn’t wash them down with milk either because I hated milk. Guh. I don’t care how much chocolate syrup you put in milk, I just can not handle the stuff. (I just realized I’m making this frowny-wrinkled-frown-‘ick’-face as I type this. I suppose that in normal, literary descriptive terms it would be, ‘She wrinkled her nose,’ but I’ve got this whole mouth-turned-down-eyebrows-and-nose-squinched-face on like I just smelled something awful.) Back to green beans. I’ll have to ask my Mom, but I think the beans we ate as kids were canned. My sister and I usually helped prepare dinner and I don’t recall washing any fresh beans. That’ll probably ‘splain it. (Come on, all together now…’Luuuuucyyy…’)

Topic 4: Li’l Bastard. This guy was in the back yard.  I asked Keith, “Did you find that picture on the net to just show me what he looked like?” Uh, no.

Walter Whistlepig is a resident of the Patch. Damn. That guy’s kind of cute, but a have-a-heart eviction notice is now set because we haven’t invested in a fence yet. Wook at that wittle face. BuhBye. You gotta go.

Topic #5. I haven't posted a picture of the buddies in a while.