So apparently it’s not fall after all.
One of our irises has popped out in bloom.
Should I be concerned? I know the climate’s changing, but this seems a little off. This iris bloomed already this year back in the spring. Isn’t that normal? Aren’t irises usually spring flowers?
At the base of the iris, the blooming sedum and fallen leaves give away what season it really is.
Tell me. How weird is this? Have you ever had a flower bloom out of season?
A sure sign it’s fall for me is the return of slippers.
A sure sign I need new slippers is this picture. Shameful!
My friends had tried to convince me to throw these out more than a year ago. Honestly, I completely agreed with them. The problem was I had nothing to replace my raggedy slippers.
All of this is to explain how I found myself spending time this summer sitting on a beach with knitting needles in my hands.
Et voilà!
Confused? Check them out after a few turns in the washing machine.
Still confused?
These are French Press Felted Slippers. It’s my fifth time making these slippers. The idea is that you knit over-sized slippers out of real wool and then throw them in the washing machine in super hot water. They shrink down to the size they’re supposed to be and the material becomes stiff and fabricy.
Felting is a pretty neat process. The final product is very solid. You can even cut it and it won’t unravel like regular knitting.
However, I’m not relying on my slipper’s natural density to avoid having another holey situation. I had some leftover fake leather, so I cut some soles out of that and stitched it onto the bottom of the slippers.
Let’s try this picture again.
Much cozier without the holes.
Are there any other knitters out there? Have you ever felted anything? How about anyone else with holes in their slippers… or even your socks?
Hey y’all. Baxter here.
Julia and Matt decided to take Thanksgiving off. So, with them turkey-digesting and one-room-challenging, it’s been left to me–the dude without any thumbs–to handle today’s post.
Even though I’m a Canadog now, it seems weird to be celebrating Thanksgiving in October. But there’s some perks to the weekend.
Road tripping (I’m a very good backseat driver).
Dog parking (I’ve been to a dog beach, but never a dog park with a dog beach).
Y’all want to know what else was special about this dog park? It wasn’t just for dogs. Although this guy wasn’t really into playing. I walked around his tree five times and did a special dance. I finally got so frustrated I just gave up and barked at him. That’s when Julia told me I had to leave him alone.
There were three special dinnering (two were turkeys and one was the bird of my homeland).
So that’s how I spent the Canadian Thanksgiving. If you’ll excuse me, I have some turkey and chicken and squash to sleep off now.
Hope y’all had a good weekend. Did you do anything special? Or make any new friends? Or eat any good foods? For those other Canadians and Canadogs out there Happy Thanksgiving.
A stunning fall sunrise.
Our fields are in the process of being transitioned from hay to soybeans. Earlier this fall, our farmer killed off all of the hay, and at the end of last week, the manure men showed up.
I had an inkling that something might be in the works when on Baxter’s and my morning run on Friday–which takes place entirely before sunrise–a very, very large manure-smelling piece of equipment loomed out of the dark as we entered the big field. Baxter and I were both a bit disconcerted, as it’s usually just the two of us alone. Once I ascertained that it wasn’t a) coyotes b) a UFO c) poachers, we were able to get on with our run, although Baxter continued to give it the stink eye (pun not intended, but I feel clever now, so I’m leaving it in) as we did our morning perimeter patrol.
Saturday morning, the rumble of machinery signaled that work was underway. Being the weirdo country newbie that I am, I rushed outside with the camera to document the process. I’m not sure that the manure contractors have ever been models before, but they were pretty tolerant of my presence and even took time to answer my questions.
Despite their explanations, I still know very little about manure spreading, so I’ll do my best to explain what I saw.
To start, this is a massive operation. The manure men were independent contractors hired by the farmer who rents our fields. They had traveled 3 hours by tractor that morning to come to our farm. Here’s just some of the equipment that was involved in manurefying our fields.
Outside of the frame of this picture is a second tractor, a pick-up truck and another tanker. Each tanker holds 8,000-10,000 gallons of manure. Our front field, which is roughly 6 1/2 acres, took 7-8 truckloads of manure. Holy crap (okay, that pun was intentional).
The trucks were in a regular rotation, going to the veal farm down the road from our place to get filled with manure and then coming back to the farm to deposit their load.
The manure flows from the trucks, I’m assuming through some kind of pump, and then travels in long hoses across the fields to the tractor.
The big hose connects into smaller hoses on the tractor, which are each attached to a disc. It’s a bit hard to see here, but the rear window on the tractor cab has its own windshield wiper… a necessity for when one of the hoses has a “blow-out.” Ewwwww.
Here is the spraying attachment folded up (for scale, the tractor’s tire is as tall as me).
The discs cut into the ground so that the manure goes right into the dirt, although some of it does pool on top.
When the field is done, the hose rolls up onto a spool on the front of the tractor.
Here’s an action shot of the spraying.
And here’s what our fields look like now. (For contrast here’s a picture from the same angle taken at the start of summer after this year’s first hay harvest.)
As for what our fields smell like now, well, I have to admit things are a bit stinky around here. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be (perhaps I’m building a bit of an immunity to “country air”). At the same time, I feel like I’m constantly smelling manure. Even when I’m in the house with the windows closed, the smell is still in my nose.
I’ll leave that part of the experience to your imagination.
Does anyone have any wisdom to share about manure spraying? How weird was it that I felt the need to document the whole process? Is anyone else dealing with a malodorous environment? Any idea how long it will take for the smell to fade?
In a corner of my parent’s family room hangs a very special display. It is a shadow box made by my Dad, filled with photos and mementos from my grandfather’s service in World War II. There are his medals, pins, his ID bracelet (his “dog tag”), his tank drivers license, pictures from training here in Canada and with his division overseas.
The centre of the display is obviously my grandpa’s medals. It took my grandfather a long time to share these medals with the family. Growing up, my Dad never saw them. Slowly, as the years passed and grandchildren were born, my grandfather began to show us items from the war. Eventually, when we went to the annual Remembrance Day service, he wore his medals.
My Grandma and Grandpa in 2000
My grandfather did not talk about the war. My Dad asked him once and has a single page of notes from the conversation. It was obviously very hard for my grandfather to remember that time.
Perhaps that is why Remembrance Day is so important to me. I don’t know what my grandpa went through when he was overseas, but I know it had a big impact on him. Therefore, today, I take the time to remember him and to be grateful.
For last year’s Remembrance Day post, click here.
There’s a tradition in my family of working on projects together. Always. For as long as I can remember. Take this picture, for example, of my Dad and I building a bird feeder. I had probably just turned four that fall.
Here’s my Dad and I posing with the finished product (and my little sister) as we put seed in the feeder for the first time.
Fortunately I have a nephew who likes building things with me, so I’m able to carry on the tradition that my parents established. When he and his brother came to stay with us for a few days, building a bird feeder was top on my list of projects.
Using the measurements from my Dad’s feeder, we drew it out on a sheet of 5/8 plywood. He held the wood in place while I cut out the pieces with my skilsaw. Then, we switched jobs, and I held the pieces while he nailed them together. We used a bit of wood glue on each joint and some 1 1/4 inch finishing nails.
If I was to build another bird feeder, I might consider painting it before putting it together, but let’s face it, when working with an almost 14 year old, waiting for paint to dry is as exciting as… well… watching paint dry. So we put the feeder together and, after letting the glue set, I was on my own for painting (and yes, I used pretty much the rattiest piece of plywood I could possibly find for the roof).
A few quick coats of paint on the feeder and one coat of Tremclad on the pole that my cousin welded for us–seriously, the most sturdy bird feeder post I’ve ever seen–the feeder was ready to go outside.
As my nephew hasn’t come back to visit yet, Matt stepped in as my helper. He hammered the post into the ground, and I screwed the feeder onto the post. Still nephew-less, I did the first ceremonial seed dump on my own.
Perhaps the birdies are waiting for his return before they partake of the seeds, because no one has come to test out the feeder as far as I’m able to tell.
I’m thinking it could be because they feel the feeder is a little exposed. I put it on the turnaround where I can easily see it from the dining room table. However, that means there’s no bushes or trees close by for cover.
Birds do hang out on the turnaround, so I’m hoping it’s just a matter of time before they discover the feeder. I know the design appeals because nearly 30 years later my parents still have the same feeder in their backyard, and they have a steady stream of customers.
If you’re interested in building a bird feeder of your very own, I drew out the plans and you can download them here. This is a perfect project to do with kids because it’s quick and there’s lots of parts they can help with. And if the birds ever show up, I’m sure they’ll like watching them snack too.
Do you have a bird feeder? What bird seed do you use? Any tips for enticing birds to a feeder? Do you like to build things with your children or nieces or nephews? Or did you build things with your parents when you were growing up?
In honour of Hallowe’en, Baxter wants to show you his tricks.
Dude does love his treats.
Happy Hallowe’en from Baxter (and Matt and me). Haaaaaa-woooooo! (That was a howl).
What tricks does your dog know? Any suggestions of what tricks Baxter should learn? Any training tips to share?
Check out last year’s Hallowe’en post, our Drac-o-Lantern, here.
This is our second fall on the farm, yet I feel like I didn’t notice the leaves changing colour this year. This weekend walking around and actually looking around, I was surprised to notice that most of our trees are nearly bare. The colours are gone, and I didn’t even see them.
It feels like time is moving so fast these days. Friday was my last day at work. I’ve spent 11 years at the same organization, starting as a student intern, moving to different departments, trying different things, meeting different people. It was a great place to begin my career. I’ve been very nostalgic this fall as I prepared to leave my job. I have a new job to go to at a different organization, which I’m very excited about, but first I have a two week break.
I’m hoping over the next two weeks to slow down a bit and savour my time at the farm, with family, friends and Baxter, working on my projects, relaxing here and there.
How do you slow down? Any suggestions for how I should spend my two weeks? Any advice for handling a job change?
Today I am thankful for, in no particular order, pizza, nephews, chainsaws, a wiggly-butt dog, furry-purry puddy-cats, an understanding husband, a generous father-in-law whose usual response to his daughter-in-law’s many requests is “that’s doable,” breakfast, Matt’s shop-vac, my drill, my sander, a brother who traveled more than 1,500 km to be home for Thanksgiving, a sister who drove 200 km, family near and far, traditions, leftover turkey, the farm, sleeping in, chocolate, our dishwasher, weekends–three-day weekends even better, my husband’s defensive driving skills during a close encounter with a deer (he wasn’t injured although the car still isn’t feeling too hot), s’mores, surprise lunches at work with my parents, campfires.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone.
What are you thankful for?
Home on 129 Acres 