Garden Goodness

Kids and gardens and me just all go together. 
I love my kids.  I love my garden.  It's our favorite place to be.
I think Kole and Joey love it because they are free to eat whatever they want.
Their fingers, mouths, and spots they've touched on their bellies are constantly stained from fresh strawberry juice.  They also pick carrots out of the ground and eat those. 
Which is slightly less cool because it's basically eating a mud stick.  They don't even brush them off.  Yee-uck.
But picking beans off the vines and munching fresh raspberries and snap peas with my two little cubs- makes my life unbeatable. 

The boys light up when I say, "Let's go work in the garden!"  Of course, their idea of working in the garden is inspecting each plant, digging in the dirt for bugs, and eating what they consider to be ripe.  Poor Joey has eaten a lot of white strawberries this year.  But, he does so with a smile, and always says, "MMmm!  Love it!"

When the plants were just perking up. Circa mid to end of July.

 

When the boys checked on the potato plants they stuck their heads clear inside.  Very very thorough.

These gals are still cluckin' around.  And I've eaten a lifetime's share of omelets, egg salad sandwiches, and quiche.

After a hard days work- you gotta cool off in the kiddie pool and then get right back to tractorin'.  According to Joey.

It's a happy wonderful life at Crooked Row Farm.

Ribbon Cutting!

Well.  It's official.  We opened a farm.  Had the ribbon cutting ceremony today.  It was remarkable.  I gotta say *clears throat* some mega scissors and some majestic music and an audience...*clears throat* and some ribbon would have made it really remarkable.  But.  None the less.  Welcome!  (arms spreading)

Yup.  I named 'er.  You kinda have to.  Haven't you ever seen Sarah Plain and Tall?  You have to write your name in the dirt.  I wrote mine in letters from Porters, some barn paint, and wood.  But the essence is the same.  We named it Crooked Row Farm because upon planting our first seedlings this year with the kids... nothing was straight.  Nothing looked clean and pristine like I pictured it in my head (or how I sketched it in the agricultural blue print.).  So.  I embraced it.  And then made this sign.  It's about to blow up Pinterest.  Every one is gonna be naming their backyard. 
In March we got 5 chicks.

They became my little beebees.  They were soft and cuddly.  And poofy!  And would peck little food seeds out of my hand.  I was always checking in on my chickies.  I worried about them and would get out of bed in the middle of the night to make sure they were warm and okay.  They were literally like my newborns.  But heavens to Betsy...have they grown fast.  Just like my real human chickies.

They went through a weird phase...Can you see the resemblance?

They kinda turned into crabby old bitties.  It was always something with them.  I never had their water just the right temperature.  They wanted their meal at 5:30 not 5:15.  Fresh bedding twice a day not once a day.  So.  I built them their own place where I couldn't hear them squawk.

 I know what you're going to say.  It needs a little wreath about the door, huh?  Or a house number.  Or a plaque.  I keep telling The Kenmo, "I want to name the chicken coop."  But the only name I can come up with it Pollo Fundido.  And that's what he orders at Garcia's.  PLUS!  With that name I'd have to stucco this whole thing- add some blue tile... it could get pricey.  And naming a chicken coop seems to be beyond Ken's level of tolerance.  So.  Probably a wreath.  And flowers will go in with warmer weather. Naturally.

Every good running farm has a farm dog.  So...Check!

Dook at doze eyez.  We adopted Oreo four days after we got the baby chicks.  It was an animal overload for the first 36 hours.  But turns out Oreo is about the lowest maintenance dog in existence.  I have to beg him to take a walk with me because all he ever wants to do is snuggle.  Which I love.  I love dogs for their unlimited snuggling capabilities.  The only down side to Oreo's snuggling is sometimes he Steamies me.  A Steamie is when a dog (or Ken) is really close to my face and then breathes hot air breath onto it and a muggy warm layer of thin condensation forms on my cheek.  Worst sensation.  A Steamie.  Do it to somebody.  They'll hate it.
We started seedlings when we were deep deep in the Winter Doldrums  and have slowly been moving them into the Great Outdoors as we've slowly moved out of our Winter Doldrums.  And we plugged about 30 raspberry starts out there. 

 

 It is such a feeling of accomplishment to see growth.  A little plant that will provide food for your family.  It's incredible!  I guess Mother Nature's real name is Patty Poulsen.  And, don't worry, to ensure that feeling of accomplishment and triumph persisted through the Spring, Summer, AND fall- I planted ONE HUNDRED strawberry plants!  A Hundy.  (If those were dollars I'd be rich.)

But they're not dollars they're strawberry plants.  Ha-rumph.  I did get to thinking though.  Even with all the Cool Whip in the world; can I eat all the strawberries 100 plants will produce?  I don't doubt much about myself- but this is indeed doubtful.  So!  I had the greatest idea to sell my surpluses at the local Farmer's Market!  I got into a late night text cahoot with my friend about a booth we'd start with my berries, her honey from her backyard swarm, and maybe some crafts or something.  We were drawing up our business plan and designing our logo to put on our jars of homemade preserves when Ken asked me what I was so excited about.  "I'm going to sell all my extra strawberries at the Farmer's Market!  We can use all the money I earn to go on vacation!"  Ken stared.  I squealed "Isn't that fanTASTIC?" in response to his silence.  He said, "You might have 2 pints of extra strawberries from your strawberry patch.  It's not as big as you think."  PSHZzzzzzzuuuuuuuuuuuueeeeewwwww. <--- That's my dreams deflating.
At any rate.  I'm so proud of my farm.  It's becoming a lifestyle for me that I am so comfortable in.  I love working in the dirt all day.  Tending to the land.  And teaching my boys how to become self-sufficient. I feel like I am on a good and well trod path.  It's idyllic and romantic and makes my heart beat harder.  Or... it could be all that shoveling and tilling that is making my heart beat faster...

I can't dig a hole without kids climbing in!

 

Yup.  Those are mine.
I'm really into Duck Dynasty right now.  And these really are extremely functional.
And East Coast Yuppie Meets Farming For The First Time with a Martha Stewart thing going on.

Come on by anytime you want.  Admission is free.


P.S.  I am considering an egress from Facebook.  If you want to keep up on the blog posts- subscribe!   Right over there on the right-- there's a button. 

Las Vegas

Day 1:  I overdosed on Motion Sickness medicine and was zonked out from before we took off and far after we landed.  I was dizzy and woozy and for the second time in my life thought, I get why people are into prescription meds.  We stopped at our room just long enough to drop off our bags and we were off again.
Highlight of the day?
Dinner at Bouchon. (Boo-shawn.)

Ken had the adventurous Leg of Lamb and I had a Steak with Pommes Frites.  (aka Frenchie Fries).  I enjoyed a large salad with goat cheese, multiple pieces of braided bread, seeing how many sips of water I had to take before the waiter came over (answer:2), having the table cleaned with a razor/butter knife looking contraption when I dropped crumbs, and dining with other people who would have ridden First Class on the Titanic.  It was incredible, to momentarily, think "I've made it.  This is the good life." It was double hands slammed down the best food I've ever had.

Daily winnings: $5.


Day Two: I was flying solo.  Ken had meetings all day and I was gonna hit the strip.  All by myself.  Could not have been happier about that.  I love my Kenmo but it's been YEARS since I've been totally alone. It felt good to take a long shower and enjoy an full hour of getting ready while watching back to back episodes of Fresh Prince of Bel Air.

I took this picture even though I'm really bad at taking food pictures.  It felt so classy.  Eating crepes at The Paris while reading in a cafe.  But... one bite into my crepe I wished I would have gotten the caramel apple one.  And... since I was on vacation (not to mention a bit of a winning streak)... I threw this savory French cheese and ham one in the garbaj (<--- note the French pronunciation) and ordered me-self the Caramel Apple one.  THEN (!)  I sat there and read in the cafe while eating a really good crepe.

That night we were taken to dinner at The Palm.  Which is where Don Draper has dinner. And even though his in New York...I ordered an Old Fashioned in his honor.  And... Ken cancelled my order.  Weenie.  That night I had another steak.  What?   I'm a meatie! Steaks are delicious!  We ate with Ken's boss and I laughed so hard from stories he was telling us from college my sides hurt. And I had flourless chocolate cake... which should have been called, "Cake-Sized Piece of Fudge."  Wonderfully over the top.
Daily winnings: $9.25

We rode to the top of The Eiffel Tower.  460 feet about the strip.  Ken stayed insanely close to the inside edge and he worried I was insanely close to the outer edge.  It was gorgeous.  And the Fountains from that viewpoint were worth watching twice.

We saw a scandalously funny musical, Rock of Ages.  All power ballads and Journey and You should've been gone!  Knowing how I made you feel. I sang my heart out and left with a sore throat.  I could have been the only one singing... but I heard Ken's boss sing a bar here and there.  And I should've been gone!  After all your words of steel.  I was the first audience member up on my feet making fist pumps though.  I started something incredible.  It was fantastic.  Highlight.  Definitely.

After-Show Me...singing.... Here I go again on my oooowwn. Ba Dum BA DUM!

Going down the only road I've ever knooOOOWN!

This was walking back to our hotel (The Paris) on our last night.  We watched the fountains over and over.  And noticed that a little family of ducks lives on the 8 acre lake outside of The Bellagio... and when the fountains power up and the music starts those ducks are in a frenzied panic.  They are paddling around going Uh!  Oh! Uh! Oh! What do we do?  Where do we go?  This is getting scary?  Hold on little duckies!  Swim over here.  Oh no.  Not there.  It's too wavy.    They just panic.  And it's really cute.  But does distract a bit from the water show, unfortunately.  
Friday we slept in, knowing it was our last opportunity... for who knows how long... and lounged by the pool... and picked up some swag for the tikeys.  We ate huge salads and big cookies and read books and talked about how easy it is not having kids.  It was heavenly.  Like a drifter I was born to walk alone.  And I made up my mind.... I ain't wastin no more tiiiiime!  Those songs stick with you.  And resonate with you!  I was missing my vacation before I even left.
When we got to the airport we both started missing Koley and Joe real bad.  Ken more than me.  Wert!  I guess when you're heading home that's your only choice, right?  Look for something to look forward to.  Because there are some harsh realities in coming home:

Bathroom at The Venetian before our show.

Bathroom at The Airport before our flight.

 

Tomorrow's post?  What happened with Kole, Joey, and Gramma Ginger while we were away.