Thank goodness I can refer to winter in the past tense! And, here it is, the name for our farm! After lengthy deliberations I'm happy with this name. It's old and, in that tradition, its name is a definition. It was important to name it for how it feels to be here, for the images it evokes in my mind. Thank you for all the suggestions you commented with! It helped to set my gears working on the right track.
(Incidentally, my daughter's egg business is ready for orders!)
It has actually become important to pick a name. We are expecting kids (as in baby goats, not little humans) this next month! In order to register our kids in the goat associations, which is important for people who would like to buy a goat to show or breed, we need a herd-name which is usually the farm name. It just feels right for this place to have a name; this land is bigger, older than we are and has its own story. We're just the new set of characters here, of which I am constantly reminded. By giving it a name, we're acknowledging its story in our lives and in the lives of the people who have or will come to love this place.
Back to the winter here…it was awful. I'm not going to mince words or lie; it was torture for me. Hauling buckets of water to put out a compost fire because our hoses were frozen was horribly inconvenient. Holding the waterers for the animals by their freezing metal handles was a uniquely miserable experience. We had extension cords running all over the barn so that the animals' waterers wouldn't freeze. I am so grateful for these modern conveniences! Many times I would realize how much easier my job is because of plumbing and electricity and I wondered how farmers used to do it. Running water is such a valuable commodity on a farm. Honestly, I am humbled by the forgotten legacy of hard work and commitment we can learn from the generations of farmers who have lived before.
Do you know what this warmer weather means to me? It means being able to use my hoses again! It was such a happy moment when I saw the thawed water leaking out of them, like seeing a friend again after a long, sad absence. Hooray for modern conveniences!
Despite the fierceness of the cold I felt, the snowy landscapes were stunning. However, they quickly turned into muddy trails but I will spare you those photos.
Below is the coop and the barn.
These are my barn muck boots. I don't bring them into the house and they faithfully wait for me on my adventures. (Their home is technically in the garage.)
All three of our ponds were frozen over. Since the 50+lb. dogs could walk on them and they didn't even crack with bricks being thrown on them, we think they could have been good for ice skating. We will never find out. But now that spring has started (and not a moment too soon!), they are finally thawing out.
Phoebe looks like a snow bear.
We carried our sleds to the only hill we have behind the upper and lower ponds. We had a great time! We tried this again later but the wind was too bitterly cold to enjoy much.
It's such a tiny hill you might miss it but it served its purpose!
What child doesn't love eating snow? With as many dogs as we have, I talked to my children about the importance of staying away from the yellow snow. They said they already knew so I left it at that.
Phoebe loved chasing the sleds down our tiny hill.
The next morning everything was covered in ice. It was at once both beautiful and terrifying.
You could hear the trees groaning with the weight of the ice. The winds and ice actually sheared off 20 feet from one of the white pine trees.
Despite the cold, our hens still layed eggs for us, beautiful colored eggs. We had about a dozen that froze in the cold and had to either be used right away or tossed out. If I was a chicken that had to live in that cold, you wouldn't get a single egg from me!
I love Hadleigh Grange, I love spring, and I love the chickens that live here!
In fact, I just found a note from them this morning. It concerns the false eggs I put in their nesting box to encourage them to lay there. To promote the use of the nest box by more than one chicken at once, I separated the eggs to give the appearance of two nests. My efforts were frustrated because the eggs were always returned together and now I have my answer. You should also know that I use a rake to stir up their droppings from underneath their roosting perches with fresh, clean pine shavings.
Dear Lady with the Dreadful Instrument,
We do not know why you come into our coop every day with that wretched instrument on a stick to stir up trouble in our home. You frighten us to death every time you begin to attack who-knows-what underneath our roosting perches. The terror we feel as you swing that thing around and move piles from here to there…how dare you threaten us this way in our home?! And since it must be to you whom we apply for lack of considerations, we have another matter to press for your attention.
In our nesting box, there are two eggs. Every day, some unforeseen force of nature tears apart the one rule we chickens must all live by: the eggs must rest together. Every day this abomination occurs. The shock and discomfort we feel to see the eggs separated is unparalleled and before we can may sit ourselves down to relieve ourselves of our burden, we first must carefully roll the left egg back to its companion on the right. Every day, every day sees us repeat the pattern of this cautious roll.
It is enough. The fibers of nature have been torn apart for too long. Whatever evil is causing mischief with the laws that govern us must stop. The eggs must rest together. There is no other way.
These grievances have been valuable instruction that we poultry must unite together to protect our welfare and well-being. From here on, we will form our coop association. You will be informed in due course of our name and by-laws.
Sincerely,
the Chickens.
