It’s that season…

for snow…

…and for babies.

I was walking up this little spring branch when I startled some sort of critter. My first thought was that it was a deer, but as I left and looked back over my shoulder, I saw that I had stumbled upon the maternity ward.

Babies make their appearance in all kinds of weather. The morning I found this little girl, it had been ten below at our house…not my idea of the perfect calving time, but Mother Nature has her own, perfect timing for these things.

It’s also the season for valentines, sweethearts, friends, and for showing love and affection to people who matter to us.

Friday afternoon a little boy delivered a special valentine to someone who was once a little boy….someone who grew up in a hurry when he entered the service and went to fight in a war. Valentines for Veterans is a project of a nearby 4-H club, and we were asked to deliver to the veterans at our local nursing home. 

And not all the veterans were of the male persuasion…this dear lady was proud to inform us she had been a Marine!

It was touching that, as we left her hall, our little boy said he wished we could stay a little longer. So we promised to bring him back, to visit with these who need visits so much. They seem so appreciative, yet we were the ones who felt enriched and blessed by our visit.

Hope your Valentine’s Day is filled with love and appreciation, both coming and going!

I’m really feeling for my chickens. They don’t love the snow and cold weather like I do. In fact, they really hate it, and I can understand why. Skinny little bare feet and legs–at least I have boots and socks. They have to be tough!

We’ve all heard the expression, “tough old bird,” and whoever coined the phrase must have been talking about a rooster. Roosters are genuinely tough. My sort-of-dear, departed Delbert survived even my attempts at killing him a time or two (and I was sincere in my efforts–just not good enough with my aim!) That was way back in the day, long before I realized that even though he could be totally obnoxious, Delbert really did a good job of taking care of his girls.

So when he died last fall, I wondered if one of Delbert’s sons would be up to the job of head rooster. Delbert Junior (DJ) and Delbert the Third (DT) looked and acted so much like their daddy that I had hope. I don’t know how the issue was decided, but DJ stepped up to the plate…or the fence…or whatever. He took over, putting his brother in his place as inferior rooster, and taking charge. There was no question of his authority….DJ was IN CHARGE. So much that he banished DT to the outside world, not even letting him sleep in the henhouse. Honestly, sometimes DJ reminded me so much of Delbert that I forgot he was Junior.

Last week DJ’s cockiness (sorry!) got the best of him. A nasty hawk had been hovering around, checking out the fowl, and I guess they looked too juicy to pass up. He attacked, and DJ came to the hen’s rescue. Only he didn’t have quite enough experience, because the hawk got him. Got him down and killed him. A hawk half the size of DJ did him in.

DT is now the lone rooster, but he doesn’t seem to know it yet. He’s still sleeping in a tree (right outside our window, where he announces morning long before its official arrival) and he still hasn’t figured out that he has the girls all to himself.

There is the promise of warmer days ahead, and when the ground is once again bare and the chickens a little more lively, maybe DT will remember that he’s a rooster and get back to work. Meanwhile, the girls are toughing it out alone in the henhouse. Winter just isn’t their favorite season. But there is one comfort….that hawk won’t be bothering them anymore. 

The storm of the century–a true lion in many locations–was a mere pussycat here in the southern Ozarks, for which we are so thankful. We had a layer of freezing rain, coating every surface, then an inch of sleet, finished off with a couple inches of snow. Not bad, considering how folks in Chicago and points east are faring. Not even bad enough to keep some folks home. And since our yard has a hill perfect for little folks to slide on, they were off!

What joy!

Mommy and Addie!

Chip wants to go….

So we let him have a turn.

My favorite red for the day!

Time to warm up, so inside we went for a cocoa break…..

Marshmallows are the best part!

Back outside for another episode, Wyatt’s angel is a good one….

so, of course, Addie Dear must try to make one, too.

Poppy came home and got the real sled out…

Lean into the curve!

It’s getting dark and much colder by now, but Wyatt and Daddy got in one last run, all the way to the gate! Loud cheers echoed through the Almartha Valley! Then we went inside for enchiladas and oatmeal cookies.

It doesn’t take a LOT of snow to have a LOT of fun!

Have I told you lately that

I love red??

It’s always been my favorite color.

This is my favorite bird, by the way, and my favorite baseball team, of course.

So, with this being the month for Valentine’s Day, it’s a good month to celebrate RED!

I love my red coat; I love red berries. I love red velvet cake, red apples, red tulips, red hair, red wagons, red cheeks, red strawberries, red crayoned hearts, red leaves, red ladybugs, red tomatoes, red enamel bowls, red geraniums, red chickens, red pickup trucks, red kisses on soft, sweet-smelling baby foreheads.

February needs red, doesn’t it? For it’s often gray outside at this time of year, and sort of drab. And we’re hungry for touches of brightness, for glimpses of color in the landscape, indoors or out. 

So, I challenge you to find a little red somewhere today and enjoy it!

Then, come back and tell me about it…

Aren’t you happy for all the weatherpeople? They are SOOOO excited, with the prospect of an epic storm! Although they refrain from rubbing their hands together in happy anticipation when they’re on-air, giving their dire predictions of “the worst since 1912,”  it is difficult for them to hide the glee in their voices. I hope….I guess…that they aren’t too disappointed. Wait…yes, I DO hope they’re disappointed!

When I heard the Farmboy punching numbers on the phone at 5:30 this morning, I knew he hadn’t slept much. He was calling in the guys to get an early start. Everything we do on the farm to take care of our livestock involves electricity, and the prospect of hungry, thirsty cattle standing around with ice freezing and piling up on their backs is grim.

Our feeding is primarily done at silos equipped with automated feeders. When the man whose job it is to feed arrives (after having driven as much as 10 miles from the headquarters of our ranch) he goes into a little building beside the silo, and if all goes well, he turns on some switches and a steady stream of juicy silage from inside the 90-foot tall structures is transported, via a little conveyor belt, out into a long, 50-ft feeding station, which is covered overhead and concrete underhoof.

The cattle know what is coming, and they crowd at the trough, snuffling and snorting and brushing each other aside, to get the best place at the table. They adore the taste of this high-quality feed that was chopped and put into the silo last summer. It smells wonderful to them, even though a non-farm visitor might find the the odor rather…strong.

A small amount of grain is also fed at the same time, and if the silage is the cows’ meat and potatoes, the little mixture of ground corn and distillers’ grain (usually from an alcohol plant far to the north of where we live) and soybean hulls is dessert.

All of this operation requires electricity, every bit of it. It takes electric power to operate the feeder, to grind the grain mixture back at headquarters, to pump gasoline or diesel fuel into the truck that delivered it, as well as into the truck that got the man feeding to the silo.

There are waterers at most of the silos, too, and these require electricity to pump water into the little tanks. We have ponds scattered all over the pastures everywhere, but sometimes they get low, in times of drought. And sometimes they freeze over, when it is extremely cold. The waterers ensure that our cattle can always have fresh, good water all the time, a critical feature for livestock management.

We put out creep feed for our baby calves, because in winter it is especially important to supplement their mamas’ milk. Yesterday, the men made sure plenty of calf feed was made, again relying on electricity to grind and mix the grain and pipe it into the truck for delivery to the various  creep feeders around all the pastures.

I’m not sure why it is called “creep feeding,” but I think it is because the smaller feeders are closely surrounded by sections of fencing that will allow small calves to ‘creep’ through, while keeping their mamas out. The mamas  (and daddies, if they are spending time with the mamas) would have the tendency to overindulge if they could get at the slightly-sweet, highly nutritious calf feed. And overindulging is BAD for livestock. In fact, cattle and horses and probably other types of stock would eat themselves to death, literally, if allowed to have free access to all the rich feed they wanted.

Back to today and our immediate situation: So, we got an early start this morning, trying to beat the weather. We have generators at the ready, one that can be hauled to silos to feed if necessary, one that can be connected to my mother-in-law’s house, which will allow her to remain warm and have water, and then there is the welder which is on a trailer and can be pulled to wherever needed. We’re hoping they won’t be tested, but we’re prepared.

And as I look out my window, I see the cold rain falling, and as the temperature drops, slowly and steadily a layer of ice is building up, encasing every twig and branch and surface. More than 300 area schools are closed today, in anticipation of this. People wisely listened to those secretly happy weatherpeople and made plans for whatever comes our way.

I’m making a large pot of potato soup and a pan of cornbread, finishing some laundry and hoping….hoping the electricity, so important to us in so many ways, manages to remain in service. If not, I’ll light my lamps, turn on the gas fireplace and hunker down to weather the storm. 

Did I hear someone say today  is National Chocolate Cake Day? Now, whoever made that declaration is surely a chocoholic, don’t you think? Or someone looking for an excuse to celebrate?

As for me, I think it sounds like a perfectly reasonable reason to celebrate. Although any old day would be a good day for a chocolate cake, actually…

With that considered and decided, the only thing left was to choose a recipe. And for this occasion, there was no choice–only one chocolate cake would do.

This is THE chocolate cake, as far as I’m concerned. Why? Because it is THE chocolate cake that I was raised on, it is THE chocolate cake that I raised my children on, and it is THE cake that continues to be my favorite, bar none, hands down, not even any runners up.

Now, if you’re one of those choco-fanatics who think EVERY chocolate cake is delicious, I take issue with you. I’ve eaten more than a few pieces of chocolate cake in my time, and here is my philosophy: ALL CHOCOLATE CAKES ARE NOT CREATED EQUAL. Some are great, some are good, some are fair, some ho-hum. I won’t go so far as to say there are some chocolate cakes that are bad…honestly, could there be a BAD chocolate cake? But …. there are definitely levels of goodness in chocolate cakes.

Is my cake fancy? No. Does it require special ingredients or special utensils or tons of time in the kitchen? Again, a resounding NO! This cake is simple, quick, and I always have the things to make it on my pantry shelf. As far as chocolate cakes go, this one is basic and ordinary…except for one tiny detail: It is UBER DELICIOUS!

Wait a minute–are you reading this and thinking, “Boy, she likes to brag about her cakes, doesn’t she?” Well, let me protest: I am not bragging on me, in any way, just on this recipe.

A little background info: My mom really did make this cake all the time when I was growing up. Probably because my two brothers thought “cake” equaled THIS CAKE, and my mother loved to keep those boys happy. When I was setting up housekeeping and collecting her recipes as a young bride, I asked where she got it. Mom told me it came from a dear lady who had become a widow with two small children at a young age. Mrs. F had no way to earn a living except by cleaning houses, and she was very good at it so she was quite busy. Mrs. F was also known as a very good cook, and this cake was her specialty. I still send up a sincere “thank you” to Mrs. F, every time I prepare her cake recipe. I think she is probably staying busy making these cakes up in heaven. After all, even angels would tire of angel food cake eventually…

A precious memory to me is of a sweet little boy saying, “Mom, would you make that moisty chocolate cake?” Of course, I would, and so, for years, we called it the “moisty chocolate cake.” I still always think of it that way.

Today, another sweet little boy got off the bus and right away, he said, “What’s for dessert?” So, since it is an officially-designated HOLIDAY, after all, we got all the stuff out on the counter and whipped up another moisty chocolate cake.

All right, now that I’ve raved and carried on enough, here is the recipe. Try it for yourself, and if, for some absurd, insane reason you don’t like it….well, let me just suggest that you make an appointment, right now, with a taste-bud specialist and have yours checked. Because you either don’t have any or yours aren’t working.

MOISTY CHOCOLATE CAKE

1/2 cup cocoa

1 cup hot water

2 cups flour

2 1/2 teaspoons soda

1 teaspoon salt

2 cups sugar

1 cup oil

2 eggs

1 cup buttermilk

1 teaspoon vanilla

A new feathered friend visited yesterday…

I hoped he wasn’t looking hungrily at my chickens.

Last night the phone rang at 11:30 p.m. Now some of you may be awake at that hour, but we were SOUND asleep, deep into dreamland, by then. It was the county sheriff’s office; the dispatcher said that someone reported black cows on the road near Almartha. We get these calls all the time; if there are ever black cattle out, it is assumed they are ours. And they rarely are ours, because we keep the best fences possible, and we’re very conscientious about gates. But we must check, to be sure, for no rest can be had IF cattle might be on the road.

And, to be sure, this time they were ours! Three conniving cows who LOVE the delicious taste of freedom. They are determined to get out because they love to wander, through the hayfields where they are not welcome, nosing around the pit silo where they are not welcome, poking and snacking around the grain building where they are not welcome, and now up on the road and into the wide, wide world, where they are most definitely not welcome.

Fortunately, they’ve been put back into their rightful place so many times they know the drill. A little encouragement, a little heels-kicked-up gleeful frolicking as if it is just all a good time even though we’re mothers with calves of our own, for goodness sake, and back into the pasture they go.

Here’s something they don’t know: today those three independent-minded, fence-jumping cows are moving to a new home! Far, far from the lure of alfalfa sprouts, free grain, silage smorgasbords, and humans driving vehicles on dark roads who can’t see black cows until they are upon them. Banishment is their punishment. Good luck, girls!

But it really isn’t such a cruel punishment, after all. This is where they are going.

One of those country-club prisons we hear about.

This will be their new cafeteria.

Lots of room to ramble up here, in the back of nowhere.

And hopefully, no more midnight roundups.

Did someone say this is a holiday??? Not for us; the work of the farm goes on, no matter whose birthday it happens to be. After only doing the necessities on the weekend, Monday is always a catch-up day. There are big loads of feed to be made and taken to various self-feeders around the farm, as well as the routine silo and hay feeding. We had just eaten lunch and the resident farmboy was going to sit in a soft chair and take a 15-minute quick rest when the phone rang. No surprise there–it always rings, the minute he gets comfortable. No power at one of the silos–so off he went, the handiest man in the world to the rescue. I’ve been bookkeeping all day, my normal Monday work.

Here are some random shots of the last week or so….

A little boy I love won a Top Dog award at school for displaying the character trait of KINDNESS.

A view outside my window one day late last week showed two frisky friends, almost camoflauged against the little bit of snow.

We get a wide variety of birds at our feeders….

Our weekend with family was so much fun! It made us very happy to have both daughters and sons-in-law and all four grands here for a little while.

Addie Dear and Mimi….

Sus braided Emma’s hair….

then Sarah, Addie and Emma made snickerdoodles.

We had a belated holiday get-together on Saturday afternoon with some who weren’t here in December, and the day was just beautiful.

My mom came out, too–we’re so blessed to have both of them nearby and healthy and active.

A highlight of the day was an afternoon hike on the farm where my mother-in-law grew up.

First stop was a tiny family cemetery where the great-great-great-great-grandparents of these little ones are buried. Some of the family did not even know the graves were on the farm. So we had a little history lesson….

before walking up the holler. The steep hillside is a bluff-like area…

 with lots of places that look to be residences of…who knows what?

The spring at the head of the holler runs year-round and creates a tiny stream that is frozen over right now. A certain sister-in-law and niece found the ice to be quite slippery.

A footlog is irresistible, and over they went…

and up and up we went to get to this rock.

The scaredy-cats down below missed out on this!

Sarah and Emma

Wonderful January days end in wonderful January sunsets–too pretty for words!

We’re waiting….and not so patiently….for Woocy to arrive! Wyatt and Addie are jumping up and down with excitement because their cousins are due any minute now! Four hours ago would have suited them just fine. Tomorrow we’re getting together with all of the farmboy’s side of the family for a belated holiday party. Food, games, a hike, taking pictures, more food–this is the agenda for the day. But now, just now, we just want Woocy, Emma, Aunt Rah-Rah and Uncle Sam to get here. And I am certain they want to be here–four hours in the car is a long ride for two little girls.

Wyatt had his first spelling test today, and he made 100%. This Mimi was not surprised. We had our own spelling test during supper tonight, and he could spell just about anything I tossed at him. Yes, he is a smart boy. No question about it.

My day has been spent in preparations…cooking, laundry, straightening up the house, cooking, finishing up some desk work, looking ahead to the fun weekend. I had one minor catastrophe. Made an almond pound cake, baked it in a bundt pan that is patterned all over, and when it was baked, the cake refused to come out of the pan. I used a knife tip to loosen the edges, tapped it gently on the counter, loosened a little deeper, tapped a little harder–no release. Finally, I whacked it on the counter and turned it over and out came half the cake. I was so aggravated I could have cried, but I didn’t have time. The lovely cake is hidden in the pantry and will be served in bits. Tastes good, though–my chickens made their contribution; six of their eggs create a lovely dark yellow tint.

Today was a nice day, weatherwise–warmer and some sun. The ponds, with their icy tops, finally showed some melting around the edges. The snow has mostly gone, except for scattered patches on the north slopes. And the sunset–the sunset was simply eye-popping gorgeous, all dark pinks and turquoise. Winter sunsets are a reward for enduring the cold.

One day soon I’m going to figure out how to make my computer “recognize” my new camera, and then I can transfer lots of pictures I’ve been taking, and then I can share a few with you. Until then, I’ll have to rely on words. Words, I have, a-plenty.

Hope your weekend is relaxing and refreshing, however you spend it. Now I’m off to look longingly out the window–Woocy, where are you???

This is a double entry; yesterday was one of those gremlins-in-my-xanga days. Nothing wanted to work, so, although I did try, I gave up.

Wednesday morning was our coldest of this winter, and it took its toll. The resident farmboy spent all morning dealing with frozen water lines, frozen silos, frozen everything. He then spent the afternoon in the shop, working on equipment that either needed repairs or maintenance. Since he loves the farm and almost everything that goes with it, he rarely complains. But sometimes he grudgingly admits that he wearies of fixing things. Which is why I really hate to ask him to fix anything at home. Which has led to my learning to do many little things around the house that most women never do–like taking apart the drain under the bathroom sink, cleaning it out and putting it back without it leaking. Pulling the washing machine out, squeezing behind, shutting off the water, removing the hoses from wall and washer, cleaning them out and putting it all back so that it doesn’t leak. Installing new shower heads, complete with teflon tape and/or the gooey stuff. Hanging all curtain rods and window treatments and pictures and whatever. Using my very own cordless drill with rechargeable battery pack.

Those commercials on television that lead you to believe that it is the husband’s job to take out the trash? Snorting laugh, here. The trash is and always has been and always will be my job. I take it to our personal landfill and burn it myself and make sure it burns properly.

Which leads me to one of my jobs yesterday–taking off the recycling. I really have been working at doing my part for the environment, which has led to the establishment of my very own recycling center in our garage. It started with one plastic trash can to hold aluminum cans, and it now is a row of five. They hold aluminum, tin cans, paper, plastic and glass. The nearest and best recycling center is in town, 22 miles away, and about once a month I haul my loot to it.

The only problem is with paper. We get so much junk mail, so many catalogs and publications and periodicals and most are unsolicited. My paper container gets full to overflowing before the other containers, and then it is VERY HEAVY. Takes all my muscle to get it into the back of my truck and then I must dredge up some new muscle to get it out of the truck and into the bin in town. But my reward is a satisfying feeling, Good enough for me. Oh, and a hot chocolate from McDonald’s that is just down the street from the recycling center…

So, if you have curbside recycling, please do not take for granted that convenience!!

Because I grocery shop only once a week, using a reusable shopping bag isn’t practical for me; but I do save all those thousands of plastic bags and take them to Walmart, hoping they really do recycle them. It is scary to think of how many plastic bags are carried out of one store each day. And I HATE seeing them along the roadsides or flying like dirty little flags in the tops of trees where they’ve blown.

I try and think of common-sense ways to recycle other things. For example, my birdseed bin is a large popcorn tin that was given to us for Christmas many, many years ago. So is the dogfood bin. I made gift tags out of last year’s Christmas cards when I wrapped gifts this season–and they were pretty! I save boxes to use for mailing instead of buying shiny, new ones at the post office. Newspapers crumpled up make good packing material. Etc., etc….

Okay, let’s move on to today, which was much more fun than yesterday. I spent three hours in the Historium this morning with four fellow volunteers, unpacking, sorting and shelving more genealogy records. How satisfying to almost have the boxes emptied! We are hoping to be open for regular hours starting in February, and we’re going to make it, I think.

Then at noon, two of us who were there met some old friends from out of town for lunch at a local restaurant, along with my mother, mother-in-law and another older friend. It was a delightful time of reminiscing, hearing some new old stories and catching up with one another. Three of us were born in October, November and December of the same year, went from kindergarten through high school together and have remained close, in spite of living in different parts of the country, through many moves and changes. Heart-friends like these are NOT a dime a dozen, and as we grow up, we seem to appreciate each other more and more. We’ve even talked about requesting adjoining rooms in the nursing home, when the time comes…

Today has been warmer–above freezing–and the sun has been so nice. And now it has set, and my chickens are on the roost, and I must go close their little, bitty door so they can stay warm and safe throughout the cold night. Hope you, too, are warm and safe and cozy in your little houses tonight.