Thanksgiving Diary

Usually, I have an entire week to cook and clean for Thanksgiving. This year, I seemed to have filled the empty days with other commmitments, and the weather gods did the rest...
Friday before: went to farmers’ market and did deliveries. Should have cooked and cleaned.
Saturday before: went to farmers’ market. It snowed. Terrifying drive home. Should have stayed home and cooked and cleaned.
Sunday before: interviewed possible apprentices.
Monday before: taught a cheesemaking class in Orono. Gone all day.
Tuesday before: Finally get started cleaning. Big storm moves in, power goes out, all cooking and cleaning comes to a halt.
Weds before: Power still out. Go to farmers’ market. Pick up turkey on the way home. Can’t cook or clean. Emergency fence repair. Had to borrow neighbor’s generator to milk the goats and pump water. Decision is made to relocate Thanksgiving to my sister’s house in Camden, where they do have power. Drive the turkey and the stuffing to Camden in the evening.
Thanksgiving Day: Had a dinner that couldn’t be beat, but I didn’t get to host it. Here’s what I couldn’t do this year: my cranberry sauce (bought some local instead), Sal’s special holiday squash (made plain instead), any pies (bought a local one instead).
How the mighty have fallen. I give thanks for sisters.

The New King

Welcome to Big Les, our new rooster, thanks to Jessie. He's a light brahma, and matches four of our hens. Our hens, by the way, are all named Shirley, after Brad's mom, at her request. So, it was only fitting that we name the new rooster after his dad, Lester, or Big Les as he was known to his friends.
Long live the King!

That Ol' White Magic

It never ceases to amaze me that you can take the same basic ingredients: milk, culture, rennet, salt -- and by manipulation of time, temperature and agitation, get an incredible array of cheeses. It’s just magic.
..down and down I go, round and round I go
In a spin, loving the spin I'm in, under that old white magic called cheese ...

My Boys

There must be some capricorn in this old virgo. I love my boys, and I love their stink. I am a sick woman.

Elvis has left the building...

The King is dead. Our rooster, Elvis, shuffled off this mortal coil over the weekend. I miss his clarion call... The farm just isn't the same without his voice.
The bucks breeding snorts just don't do it for me.

Full

Full woodshed.
Full haybarn.
Full grain bin.
Full apple boxes.
Full plate.

A Goat Named Pease (blossom)

Two childhood friends named daughters Caitlin. I only have the one daughter, so cannot return the favor. But I do have a goat named Peaseblossom. I am thinking of using Hurricane names for a naming theme this year, and one of them is Teddy. No Buzz, yet. Sorry, Buzz.