Finally Get to Use My Christmas Present

We live in a split foyer house. 

I like to can garden produce until the cows come home.

So every summer it meant schlepping five gallon buckets of produce up the stairs.  Then taking those 5 gallon buckets full of canning refuse back down the stairs to be disposed.  Dribbling gunk all about the house.

The antiquated electric stove would only allow me to have two large pots cooking at one time.  This meant 50% capacity. 

The hot kitchen heated up the entire upstairs.  The grout on the ceramic floor tiles would be crusted with brine, tomato skins, and things unidentifiable.

Lines of filled Mason jars filled the limited kitchen counter space as they cooled. 

Once cooled, the filled jars were schlepped back downstairs to the pantry.

Sound efficient? Not.

I dreamed of having Summer Kitchen of yester year. 

Detached from the house.  Solely designated to the canning process and assisting with my insatiable need to put up enough food for a small army. 

Enter Mr. O.  Believe me when I tell you he is knows the definition of Process Improvement and running at Full Capacity.

I swear it is a guy thing or maybe it is genetic.

No matter.

Mr. O brought me back to reality.  And common sense.  And efficiency.  And a very practical solution.

A canning kitchen in the basement.

So for this past Christmas, Mr. O got busy and rigged me up a kitchen downstairs.  Nothing fancy, but oh so efficient!

Four burns which can hold 4 large pots at the same time.

No buckets up and down the stairs.  No cluttered kitchen counter tops.  No sticking to the kitchen floor while whooping up supper.

And did I mention the handy dandy sink too?

Just the right of the stove: Whala, a sink!

 

Mr. O did not miss a thing in the canning kitchen planning process.

 

I have wanted for this day since Christmas. 

 

I had a mess of cucumbers calling my name to stuff them into Mason jars, brine them and give a hot water bath.

 

But Mr. O wanted to go fishing tonight. 

 

Can?  Fish? Hang out on a pond bank and watch the sun go down,.......

 

hmmmmm. Dilemma.

 

I stayed home to use my Christmas present.  I think I hurt Mr. O's feelings.

 

Think I can pay him back with pickles?

First canning project from the new kitchen.

 

Oh the process improvement! 

 

Thank you Mr. O.  Can you now help me with my two left thumbs?





  Broken Mason jar of the evening.

New Addition to Animal Conglomeration

We accumulate things here at New Leaf Farm.

Often times these things are cast offs.  Things we haul home. Then stack, park, or pile.

These things include but are not limited to: old farm equipment, crocked fence posts, water tanks with holes, rolls and rolls of used chain link fence.  You know, all the things one could possible use in the future - or not.

Our accumulation of rejects is now gaining ground in our animal world.

We have a coon hound who is scared of raccoons.

We have a yellow lab who thinks he can bawl like a coon hound.  He is not scared of raccoons, but rather cameras.

Please, please, do not see me.  Stay away with that camera!

 

We have a draft horse too old to draft.

Hello, my name is Jack.  I am the ultimate definition of a hay burner.

 

So is it any wonder one of Mr. O's co-workers asked if we would take in their roosters?  They had too many.  And shocks of all shockers, we agreed to add them to our flock.

 

Now a short chicken lesson.

Chickens can be like people.  Or is it, people can be like chickens?  Anyway, a flock will bully newbies, so there is an adjustment period when adding new chickens to one's flock.

 

So, the new roosters where isolated in their own space before we integrated them with the others.  We watched them interact.  Something seemed off.

 

Not all were acting like roosters.

 

One was kind.  Sweet.  Not pushy, but in charge.  Took care of all household chores with no complaints.  (Remember, chickens are like people.) 

 

You get the picture?  There was a hen in the group.

 

We call her Margaret.

 

At first glance it is easy to identify Margaret as a rooster.  She towers in height over the others. 

Picture a woman all of 6 feet tall and size 13 in men shoes.

 



Hello, my name is Margaret.  I am the big, all black one in the middle.





 

Margaret has gankles.  You know, just like people with no ankles.  Start at the knee and go down to the heel with no indent in the leg - gankles.

See no ankles, only gankles.

 

Put aside her size and Margaret has flare.  She is calm and collected.  Cool and fashionable.  Almost like a queen amongst us commoners.

See my best side?

 

Margaret's feathers are soft, long and have translucent green splattered about.

Watch me strut and check out my behind! 





 

Usually the cast offs which find their way to New Leaf Farm are not as lovely as Margaret.  The norm here is to be rough around the edges.  You know:  Quirks.  Warts.  Easy Keepers with Overall Deficiencies.

 

This definitely applies in the beauty category.

 

See.  Here is proof. 

Hi.  They call me "no-neck".  I am the white one in the middle.  A mutt of the chicken world and I am the NORM at New Leaf Farm!