Here chicky, chicky

On our farm, we try to only breed Silkie chickens. We do have quite a collection of other birds, however we try not to let them sit. There have been a few that have either hidden nests on us or slipped one in under a Silkie when their coop was open for cleaning. Winter Soldier was one of those 'oops' birds. She is beautiful, a Cochin/Silkie mix - but boy is she stupid. If you can't tell by her name, she hatched close to my son's birthday and he has taken her in. Needless to say, I spend a lot of time searching for this less-than-clever chicken.

Chicken in a Hay Stack 

The first time Winter Soldier was let out to free range with the big hens, she wondered off alone. I wasn't too worried, as it's generally in a children's nature to come home to roost at dusk. In the evening, when everyone else had returned home for dinner, she was no where to be found. I decided to talk a walk around the duck pond to see if perhaps she was lost.

I was carrying Baby Farmer while walking around the pond, so I was trying to be careful and not climb up on any of the dirt mounds or tree limbs around the pond while searching for this bird-brained chicken. Finally, I spotted her. She was pecking through a pile of hay that Daddy Farmer had tossed next to the pond (our holding area until our compost area is complete) during coop cleaning earlier that day. I had almost missed her, as her rust coloring blended in with the hay. Unfortunately, she was not the only thing that blended in with the hay.

With Baby Farmer on one hip, I reached down to scoop up the ditsy chicken with my free hand. It was only as I got close enough to pick her up that I realized she was standing within mere inches of a rather large cottonmouth snake. It was camouflaged with the hay so well that the only reason I saw it, was because it opened its jaw - allowing the pinkness of its inner mouth to show. I snatched my hand back as quickly as I could and started screaming for Daddy Farmer, who was still indoors.

While waiting on Daddy Farmer to fetch the shot gun, I tried desperately to shoo the stupid chicken away from the snake. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that it was even there and almost ran towards it on multiple occasions. Eventually, I managed to get her safely away from the snake and up towards the barn. With the help of Little Missy Farmer, I managed to corner her in a patch of trees and pick her up off the ground. Daddy Farmer arrived, shot gun in hand, and unloaded into the hay - finding not one, but two, cottonmouth snakes inside. Luckily, all involved - but the snakes - made it out of the event in one piece. 

The Case of The Missing Chickens

The second time Winter Soldier turned up missing was a total accident. It was just this past Sunday. We had been cleaning the coops and the door between the large barn room where we keep the hay and the goat room (where Winter Soldier and Emily Shakespeare, another of my son's dimwitted Silkies currently live) had disintegrated from water damage. We had managed to push an old refrigerator against the door frame to keep any unwanted critters from getting into the goat room until we could purchase a new door this week. Now, we had cleaned the coops in the early afternoon and headed off to Rural King afterwards. We got sidetracked while out shopping and did not return until dark. We had picked up pizza for dinner as it was well past Baby Farmer's bedtime. I took the kids inside to eat and Daddy Farmer went out to put the animals up. Little Man Farmer decided to follow him to help. 

Shortly after, Little Man Farmer returned from the barn alone saying that Daddy Farmer had insisted he come in and eat. As I was getting the kids settled in to eat (in front of the TV as it was too late for a formal family dinner, like we normally do), Daddy Farmer returned to the house - soaking wet - to get a flashlight. It was then that he explained that both Emily Shakespeare and Winter Soldier were missing. Now, it's bad enough that Winter Soldier was gone again, but my son is highly attached to Emily Shakespeare. She's had several near-death experiences, including a stint of Wry Neck that caused her to live in the house for five months and be syringe fed meds and water until she was finally able to hold up her own neck. He would have been devastated if she was not found.

Knowing that these two chickens were so instinctively-challenged, we could not simply look for them in the morning. Leaving these chickens out at night would be just the same as signing their death warrants. Daddy Farmer had already been searching for them for some time with no luck, so I threw on my rubber boots and headed out into the rain to look for them as well. We walked all around the areas that they liked to hide. Emily Shakespeare had been out at dusk once before and had just stopped in the nearest tree on her way back to the barn and perched on a surfaced root. I checked all the trees I could and yet, no Emily or Winter. 

Soaked to the bone, Daddy Farmer and I decided to give one more look in the goat room and the larger barn room just to make sure. We searched behind the refrigerator in the goat room that stores the feed and behind the coop cleaning tools. Still, no Emily Shakespeare or Winter Soldier. Daddy Farmer moved the refrigerator blocking the door frame and we walked into the larger barn room. On the floor under a table was a replacement farm sink we had picked up from a family member but had not yet gotten around to installing. Something made me look inside of the sink and thank the stars I did! There was Emily Shakespeare, fast asleep. Daddy Farmer informed me that he had already looked in the barn, but must have walked right past her. 

I told him to keep looking because if Emily was in here, so was Winter Soldier. As we were having this discussion, Daddy Farmer walked underneath the metal track for the roll-up barn door. It was then that I busted out laughing, "Honey, I found Winter Soldier and you're never going to believe this!" He started looking around, while I was still laughing, not seeing her. Eventually, I stopped laughing long enough to point above his head. He must have walked directly underneath her several times while searching for her. She was perched on the metal track, also asleep. Daddy Farmer cussed up a bit of a storm, saying that he wished he knew they were in here the entire time we were running around in the rainstorm. He got her down from her perch and we returned them both safely to the goat room. 

As dumb as these chickens tend to behave, they are my son's favorites and his personal pets. I also have grown attached to them, as the experiences I have had with them - no matter how much of a pain they are - have caused a bonding. I can stand back and laugh at these situations now, but I can assure you that they were quite dreadful at the time. I am terrified to lose these hens, because I would hate to have to break my son's heart with the news of any misfortune that may come their way. I'm sure that these events are only a small chapter in the tale of Emily Shakespeare and Winter Soldier.  Keep an eye out for more stories to come from these two crazy girls.

Women In The Agriculture World

As I've been trying to get this blog off the ground and going, I've had the chance to meet a lot of women in the farming world that I wouldn't have been able to meet in any other way. All I can say is that I feel more fortunate for having the chance to speak to these incredible women. Women in the agriculture world are an entire different breed of the female species. They're strong, independent, resilient, and compassionate. Most of all, they're women on a mission. Women that are out to change the world's opinion of the World Of Agriculture.

Some of these wonderful women are working farmers. Some are hobby farmers or homesteaders. Some, like me, are just getting started and trying to find their way in the realm of farming. But there's one thing that every one of these women have in common and that's heart. These women are the most compassionate and caring women I have ever had the pleasure to meet. Every one of them loves the life they live and want nothing more in the world than to share it with others. The drive that these women have to share their knowledge and resources far surpasses that of anyone else I've come in contact with.

These women volunteer their time, efforts, and knowledge to try to educate the world on the discrepancies of agriculture information that seems to keep making it's way into the public eye. They put their free time on hold to ensure that your family has food on the table, milk in the fridge, and an understanding of the truth of how your food is grown.

Every woman has a mothering gene, but farming women have it on a level that goes above and beyond that of the average woman. These are women that not only raise children, but raise calves, colts, lambs, and piglets. These are women that are up all night helping a down cow to feed, or stop several times a day to hold a sick chicken's head up so that it can drink, all while nurturing their own children.

If you ever have any questions about where your food comes from, how it's grown or harvested, or how dairy farming really is behind the scenes, ask one of these women - not one of these TV doctors that has never even set foot on a farm or out in a field. These women would be eager to stop what they are doing and give you all the information you want to know. They have been nothing but eager to help me get going and answer any questions I have as I learn my way around this lifestyle.

The next time you're cooking up a steak, peeling a potato, or pouring a glass of milk, take a moment to think about the family behind that product. Don't be scared to reach out to these women - say hello, ask a question, or just show them some love and appreciation for living the life that they do so that the rest of us can have food on the table.

Baby's First Farm Store

We live in the boonies. I mean, THE BOONIES. As in, Deliverance-style, banjos-playing boonies. A trip to the feed store was almost an all day event. And when you have over 55 animals on the property - well, that was quite a hassle. About 15 minutes away from our house is a 20-year-old mall that has not much left standing in it and had recently been in foreclosure. So, imagine my surprise when I drove by and noticed a sign being hung on the outside of the building: 

COMING SOON: Rural King

I immediately whipped out my cell phone and called my husband, "Honey, did you see it?? They're putting a Rural King in the mall!!" I don't think I've ever been so excited over a store coming into our area before. It was 15 minutes from our house. A Rural King! Feed, supplies, clothes, boots, tack... everything I could want! I just couldn't believe it. I watched the building transform every day when I drove the kids to and from school (which is a 40 minute drive, one way!) and reveled as they changed the shape of the roof, the doors, the paint went up and the sign was hung. 

No word of an opening date had leaked yet and I was getting anxious. It looked ready, it had LOOKED ready for some time now. I couldn't understand. They'd already done their hiring event and still no word of a date yet. On my farrier visit that month, I spoke to him about it. He always seems to know the ins and outs of the farm world in our area. He told me that they were having issues getting product in and that it would be a while longer. I was getting impatient, but what was there to do? I just had to wait it out. 

Finally, the day came. They had hung a sign for the grand opening and the doors were open for the soft opening two weeks prior to that date. I could hardly contain my excitement. We needed horse feed anyway, so I picked the kids up from school and we made our way to the store before going home. 

It seems silly, but I felt like it was a thing of beauty as we walked towards it. All I could think of was how much easier this was going to make our life. How much cheaper their prices were and how much gas we were going to save instead of driving 30-40 minutes to get all the feed that we used. The farmer in me was so excited that the Mommy in me wasn't thinking... 

I had three kids with me. Two of which had been in school all day and were as hyper as chickens at feed time. One was 6 months old and hated the car, shopping, and anything that didn't involve being with her farm animal buddies. What the hell was I thinking? As we entered the store, directly to the right of us I saw the toys section. I selected a shopping cart, strapped Baby Farmer in, and veered off to look at the toys. We found all sorts of fantastic wooden baby toys and farm play-sets. The children started a mental Christmas list. After about five minutes, Little Man Farmer announced that he needed to use the bathroom. 

Now, this is where the trip to the farm store took a turn for the worse. The second those words came out of my son's mouth, I knew we were headed for the danger zone. We only had a limited amount of time that Baby Farmer was going to be distracted by the new surroundings and remain content. We searched for the bathroom as quickly as possible and located it in the back of the store, buried in between the garage tools and the dog beds and kennels. None of which we needed. 

I warned Little Man Farmer not to pull his usual bathroom stunts and to be quick, that Baby Farmer wouldn't last long. I reminded him that we still had to strap her into a car seat and drive home - neither of which she enjoys and tends to protest heavily - and that we needed her as calm and happy as possible before doing so. He huffed and puffed and responded with, "I know, Mom." In he went... 

 

Now, just a quick explanation to my son's bathroom habits. He is a 30 minute pooper. He always ends up having to use a bathroom in EVERY public place we go into. And he can't just drop 'em and go - he has to take off every single item of clothing to do so. He's a quirky little fella. However, this becomes quite an ordeal sometimes. 

So, ten minutes goes by. Little Missy Farmer (My 6-year-old daughter) starts getting antsy. She wants to go find the baby chicks in the big metal troughs. She can hear them, but can't see them. Baby Farmer starts fussing. Fifteen minutes goes by. Little Missy Farmer has disappeared. I start yelling out her name. I hear a response and follow it down the dog kennel aisle. There she is - in one of the big dog houses. I sternly tell her to get out and come back and wait for her brother. Baby Farmer has already attempted to climb out of the shopping cart restraints and I have had to take her out and hold her. I am now attempting to push a cart and hold a fussy baby on one hip, all at the same time. As she's squirming around in my arms, all I can think of is, "We still need to get the feed. Oh, dear." 

Twenty minutes goes by and both of my daughters have had it. Baby Farmer is growling and squirming and fussing her head off. Little Missy Farmer is pacing in circles and talking to a cardboard cut out that has been put up in the garage tools department. I've already had to reel her back in from the dog beds and kennels several times at this point. She's whining about going to see the baby chicks. I already know this isn't happening. 

Finally, at twenty-eight minutes, Little Man Farmer emerges. Immediately I ask him, "What part of quick did you not understand?" He says to me, "But Mom. I was quick. It's not MY fault the toilet clogged." Oh, hell. What did he mean the toilet clogged? I pry for details... apparently, Little Man Farmer stripped off, did his business, used half a roll of toilet paper and clogged the toilet. After looking under the stall door, he spots a plunger. Now, Little Man Farmer is a big fan of The Mario Super Brothers and decided that he knew how plungers worked. So, as makes sense in a 9-year-old's head, he redressed and attempted to take care of the toilet issue himself. 

He claims he did a good job and it was all taken care of, but I flagged down a male employee anyway, explained that my son said there was clogged toilet in the bathroom, and then quickly ushered all the children off to the Equine section at the other end of the store. Little Missy Farmer starts giving Little Man Farmer a lecture about how she's not going to get to see the chicks because he pooped "Forever" and they start bickering as siblings tend to do. Baby Farmer is beyond fed up and wriggling as ferociously as the pigs, when I carry them off from something they're not supposed to get into. 

Now comes the tricky part - Getting the feed. Have you ever tried picking up a 50-pound bag of horse feed and putting it into a shopping cart with a super-strong, determined, wriggly 6-month-old on one hip? I'm not exactly a beast, either. I'm pretty teeny and a 50-pound bag of feed is a lot for me on a normal day! Somehow, the Super Mom in me pops up and I manage to load several bags of feed into the shopping cart and wrangle the kids to the check-out counter, all the while muttering reminders to myself as to why I don't leave the farm very often. Oh, did I mention Baby Farmer is an excessive spitter-upper? Yes, I am covered in baby puke by this point. 

After all that, and a 15 minute drive home with Baby Farmer wailing her little head off in the backseat, we pull into the farm. My husband comes outside as we climb out of the car - all slightly worse for wear - and immediately asks how it was. Where do I even start? 

Moral of the story? Never let the Farm in me overrule the Mom in me. And NEVER take the flock along when you really want to poke around and explore a new store. Get in, get out and move on. 

The shocking reality of "Farm Clean" versus "Clean Clean."

Here I am, finishing up my coffee on a beautiful Saturday morning, just about to dive into my ever-growing list of chores when it occurs to me that I have established a different meaning of "clean" since moving to the farm. I am the product of a former military drill sergeant father (with OCD) and a licensed nurse mother.  Between the military rules and hospital standards of cleanliness, I have grown up in impeccable households. My father (remember - OCD) would wash our Italian tile floors with a tooth brush, hang clothing hangers two fingertips apart from each other, and comb the fringe on the area rugs daily. Whenever I wanted to be a rebellious teen, I only had to merely drizzle a few drops of soda in the hallway or rotate the alphabetized soup cans around. Heavens forbid if I moved the towels out of the correct spacing! My mother has an affinity of ripping apart fridges, dishwashers, and bathrooms to bleach everything out - generally as we were getting ready to walk out the door for something. She is the only woman I know that follows the family puppy around the living room with a spray bottle of enzymes so that the carpet stays clean and deodorized.  Of course, we were always healthy, clean, and extremely presentable children growing up and I'm so thankful for that.

This, however, has proved to make life a bit stressful now that I am living on a farm. We have been in this home for exactly a year now and it has been a series of learning experiences on the meaning of the word "Clean." With my transcription job, helping with homework, breeding Flemish Giant Rabbits and Silkies, running a website, several Facebook pages and a blog, and caring for a 7-month-old baby, my hands are FULL. I barely have time to do the laundry, let alone keep up on our large home. We went from a 1400 square foot home to a 2900 square foot home with hardwood floors on a muddy farm. We have between 45-65 animals at any given time - in which coop cleaning, bathing, feeding, penning up at night, and socializing takes a lot of our time. I have seriously begun to feel as if I have LESS free time than when I was working 50-60 hours a week in retail!

As if those weren't enough reasons why I couldn't keep up with my housework, let's discuss the floor. I have two large breed dogs who love to have a good romp in the muddy duck pond or roll in the field where the horses and donkey are. They are constantly bringing in mud, poop, hay, sand, and God only knows what else. Half the time, the kids let them back inside and they're across the living room, laying down before anyone notices they had been swimming and are literally sopping wet. My older children (Little Missy Farmer: 7 and Little Man Farmer: 9) seem to abhor shoes and spend a majority of their time in the barn area, barefoot. If this alone wasn't enough to drive a neat freak insane, there is an adorable little pathway through the muddy Duck Pond Island that allows them to get next door to the neighbor children's house without going out the gate and following the dirt road. Obviously, this involves wading through the pond, crossing over Duck Island and wading again - both ways. Then we have Daddy Farmer. After several months of lectures about why he must wear shoes when outside because Baby Farmer plays on the floor now, he has finally learned to put on shoes. Unfortunately, his shoe of choice is a nasty pair of rubber Crocs. You know, the kind with the holes in them. I'm so pleased that he has decided to wear shoes, however the result is the same. He still comes in with muddy, dirty feet. Needless to say, my battle with the floor is an ongoing ordeal. Every few hours I have to sweep, spot mop, and disinfect and wipe down the baby's play mat.

After months and months of stress, breakdowns, and lack of sleep I have come to realize that there is a big difference between "Clean Clean" and "Farm Clean." It took a near breakdown to finally understand that a Farm house can only truly be a certain level of clean. My laundry is always done, but seems to stay in the laundry room on the rolling rack or folded on the ironing board. There's always some sort of dishes in the sink. The baby- well, she's always dirty. I have given up. She's usually just in a diaper that has gone gray on the outside from sitting on the dirty wood floor, sitting on the dogs, or riding on the back of the horse. Her hands, feet, and sweet little face are constantly having to be wiped down because she is always hugging the horse, the donkey, the dogs, or cuddling with the rabbits. That level of cuteness is worth a little dirt, I've learned. 

My older children are mud covered and have to be scrubbed nightly before they are school-appropriate. My husband does not own a single shirt that does not have some sort of oil, poop, or chewed horse feed drool on it. The cobwebs on the chandeliers that would have been immediately swept up at my other house? Here, they get to stay. In fact, my children have named the spider and enjoy counting the amount of flies in the web in the evening. We welcome the friendly house spider in this farm home because between the doors being left open and the horse or goats knocking out the window screens to say hello, we always have a constant stream of flies, horseflies, gnats, and Mosquitos in the house. After all, this is Florida - the state where just about everything with wings will sting or bite you.

Given that it was my first time not working out of the home, I originally felt like a terrible mother and housewife. I couldn't find time to do all I had to do and have fun with the kids, enjoy the farm... or hell, get any sleep. I had several teary eyed moments where I had just spent several hours sweeping and mopping the floor, only to have the children and the dogs run back inside covered up to their knees in mud. 

I became a work-at-home mother and rural housewife back in October of last year. Now, almost a year later, I have come to realize that watching my children blossom and bond with our animals is worth a little mud. I'll take happy, healthy farm kids and a "Farm Clean" home over video game addicted, indoor kids and a "Clean Clean" house any day!! Bring on the dirt!

Swedish Egg Coffee

After seeing a post about Swedish egg coffee on a few of my fellow Facebook friend's blogs, I decided to give it a shot. It was quite interesting to make and tastes pretty good! Not a bad use for all those eggs laying around! Give it a shot. Here's the recipe: 

Swedish Egg Coffee

(makes 4-6 servings)

6 Cups water

3/4 Cup ground coffee

1 Fresh egg

1/4 Cup ice water (or 3 ice cubes)

Bring the water to a rolling boil in a stove top coffee pot or saucepan.  Meanwhile, with a fork stir the egg into the coffee grounds, crushing the shell in as well. The mixture should look like moist potting soil.  Add the egg mixture to the water and boil for a minute or two and then cover and remove from the heat. Let stand five minutes, then pour in the ice water (or add the ice cubes) and let stand for another minute or so to allow the grounds to sink to the bottom. Strain through a strainer or just ladle the coffee off the top into coffee cups. Makes 6 servings.

Week in Review- 9/7/14

The Week In Review: 

This week proved to be another relatively quiet week on the farm. We did find Mr. Edmund Goat stuck in the fence a few more times. Baby Farmer spent some time cuddling with the goats. Her responses to the goats reminded me exactly why we chose to pack it up and move to the country. 

Floor time with the baby silkies proved to be exciting for Baby Farmer as well. One of the baby chicks jumped right on her head! The silkies look stunning now that se of their feathers are coming in. Momma silkie (Fuzzball) has done a wonderful job with the babies. She even tolerated us selling six of her eight babies fairly well. 

The bunnies have one week left with us before they get to go to their new homes. They're still very friendly and jump into Daddy Farmer's hands when he feeds them at night. 

The pigs have been getting into mischief. They found the pond at the end of the property, finally! They've been mud bathing and swimming all week. They're really enjoying being loose on the property. Our grass, however, does not enjoy it as much. 

As for inside the farm house... Well, Baby Farmer is finally getting over the cold. She's also mastering the art of walking and pulling up with the use of furniture- which is keeping this Momma very busy. So busy, in fact, that this Momma had to get all of my hair chopped off so as to speed up the getting ready process. What do you think? 

As always, leave us some love. Let me know how your week went or feel free to ask me some questions. Don't forget to visit the Farm's website and Facebook! Have a great week, y'all! 

Week in Review- Labor Day Weekend

The week in review:
There's always something exciting here at the farm, although this week proved to be relatively calm. Here's a short run-down of our craziness at Dartmouth F&P.

Gristle, our darling quarter horse, had a recurrence of the rain rot that he had brought with him from his previous stables. This caused a lot of hair loss (what a mess!) and required a twice daily treatment of anti-fungal spray to clear up. He's better now, thankfully. He has, however, decided to use a pine tree as a scratching post and now has a pine sap knot in his main which will require being cut out! Such a brat.

Wilbur, our male mini pot belly, had lost a considerable amount of weight. Charlotte, on the other hand, had not. After testing the waters with different methods and amounts of feed, we discovered that Charlotte is just a fat little thing and was not allowing Wilbur to eat. Wilbur is now crated in the evenings with his own cup of feed. He literally blossomed overnight.

Nana, our troublesome great pyr mix, has been taunting Donkey for weeks. She now has a limp thanks to Donkey finally getting a good wallop in. She's fine - no broken bones or anything, just a bruised ego.

During coop cleaning, two of our darling new bunnies managed to get out and take a romp around the field. Luckily, they didn't stray too far and we were able to catch them and get them back into their pen.

The silkie babies are coming into their own and seem quite friendly and are showing some beautiful partridge coloring. We do have a few unique colors showing that we will be watching closely to see how they develop. 

Edmund our troublesome goat managed to get his head stuck in the fence - AGAIN. Seems he believes that the grass on the other side really is greener. And yes, if you look closely, you'll notice he only has one horn. I can only assume it's from sticking his head through the fence to eat the clover on the other side!! 

Add to the mix a sick 6 month old baby, and a lot of rain, and you can bet that this Momma has not been able to keep this farm house very clean this week. Curse of a large home on a muddy farm, I'm afraid. You can always tidy up the kid clutter, but the mud on the floor and the dirt in the bathtub? Forget it.

If you would like to see more "the week in review" in the future, leave us a comment to let us know!

How it all began...

I suppose I should christen this blog with a good old fashioned 'Once upon a time' story - the story of how I got to be here, typing this blog. In order to do that, we need to step back a bit.

I am from England originally - the product of an American Military daddy and a British Nurse. Cliche, I know. It's gets better. I'm a typical Brit. I love my tea, I'm obsessed with Doctor Who, and I still use the typical British slang words. As if that wasn't enough, my husband is German. When I say German, I mean German-German. He's built like a typical German - like a house. He's only been in the US for 5 years and English is NOT his first (or best) language, but he manages pretty well. He has several degrees in finance and business and absolutely NO farming experience. Our three children however, are all born State-side. We are all in love with the same shows - Doctor Who, The Big Bang Theory, etc. Yes, we are geeks.

Up until last year, I was a full time working Mom. I had worked my butt off in my job and managed to become a Store Manager in one of the busiest malls in the State of Florida. I was working over an hour and a half away from our rental home. I was always exhausted and never managed to make it to much of the children's after school activities. It was around this time that my husband and I had decided to start searching for a house to purchase - one we could call our own.

After months and months of searching the area for a home large enough for three children and our two large dogs, we were burned out. Nothing seemed good enough. It was all either too small or too rundown. It was crazy. Just as we were about to give up, I stumbled upon a listing online. It seemed too good to be true. It was a bit further out than we had originally been looking, but as soon as I walked into the door I knew this was the one. It was beautiful. A typical European style, two story farm house settled on a 10.8 acre tract. Natural wood floors, wood cabinets, lots of large windows and over double the size of the rental we had been living in. I fell in love instantly. The property was nestled in the side of a large preserve and had no visible neighbors. It was in the backwoods! The road was a skinny little dirt path with no street signs and was completely hidden from view from the world.

It's been a year since we unpacked and moved into our dream house and things have gotten crazier - yet simpler - all at the same time.  I now telecommute for work, we have (on occasion) up to 65 animals, and we are trying our hand at breeding silkie chickens and Flemish Giant Rabbits. I went from Career Mom to Stay-At-Home Farming Momma all in the span of one year. I now balance caring for our large amount of animals, caring for our two older children (6 and 9) and our 6 month old baby, and trying to keep a handle on our large-but-lovely farm house. After starting a website and a Facebook for our farm, I decided to try my hand at blogging. I spend a fair bit of time browsing through other Stay-At-Home Mom's blogs and thought I had a little color that could be added with all the craziness of running a small, family farm as well as raising three children! Between bunnies escaping, goats getting stuck in the fence, and a donkey that is spooked by LITERALLY EVERYTHING, there is plenty for you to have a good giggle at around here!

I do hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave a comment, ask a question, or just leave some love. Don't forget to check out our website: Dartmouth Farm & Pastures. From there you can link to our Facebook page and our Instagram! Hope to see you again soon!