THE REHOMESTEADERS

Slugs and Snails

2013-05-20T09:14:00.001-05:00

A monumental battle between two ant colonies that went on for five DAYS.

I know the nursery rhyme indicates that boys are made of slugs and snails and puppy dogs' tails and the girls are sugar and spice and everything nice. Lately, however, my girls could be categorized under either.

With the warm weather and rain we've been receiving there has been a burst of insect activity. The poor horses are stamping away stable flies, mosquitoes and noseeums and the bees are waging war with ants trying to steal their honey.

It looks like a slug gave birth on my rake handle...

Every leaf in the garden has a hole or two from a fat slug.

Watching the ants fight.

Fortunately, the girls are not squeamish about slimy, slithery, creepy creatures. If they find a slug, snail, dead bee, caterpillar, rolly polly or earthworm, it's bound to end up as a "pet" in an empty peanut butter jar.

Fine by me. We can use all the help controlling the insect population that we can get.

Claire's new "pets."

Pink Naysayers

2013-05-17T16:02:00.002-05:00

It's so much easier when you don't have to paint around furniture. Oh, well!

We (and the horses!) are all settled in to our lovely new home so the first item (after the fencing) on our agenda was to paint the bedrooms. I know most people suggest taking care of the main floor first when moving into a fixer-upper. However, I would politely disagree. Painting the bedrooms first creates a sort of oasis in the midst of a home torn apart, dirtied and cluttered with tools while it's being repaired. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience.

Getting started by Kilzing it all!

So, when I asked Evelyn and Claire what color they'd like their room, they simultaneously agreed:

Pink!

The finishing touches on the trim!

There are a lot of pink naysayers in the world and generally, I am not too keen on the color splashed across an entire room but you should have seen the look on the girls' faces when I finished.

The neutral walls...

Granted, the pink is a bit toned down and I only did one wall as an accent but I think it gives the room a nice feminine touch without going over the top. And I hid a little pink in the closet too when the doors are open, just for fun.

What do you think? Are you a pink naysayer or are you brave enough to let your children pick their own colors?

Another goal off the list--hooray!

Fox In The Hen House

2013-05-16T09:45:00.003-05:00

Nothing makes one feel more inadequate than a fox in the hen house.

Escapees!

The chicks were growing nicely, Checkers was recovering but the water trough keeping them warm in the garage was feeling too small. The last straw was when Jack found them roosting on his tool box. He reinforced his dislike for indoor hens (and I don't blame him) and reminded me they needed to go outside.

We'd been casually working on a fenced area for the girls but with the warmer weather and their rather brazen attempts at escape, the time had come to move. I'd pounded in posts, lined it with coated, galvanized steel fencing, lined that with hardware cloth and then lined that with a boarder of rocks. At the end of the day, I was weary but satisfied I'd done my work well.

Everyone enjoying scratching around outside.

There had been news of a fox in the neighborhood and my mom and Evelyn spotted it unabashedly trotting about in the daytime. Still, I was sure the hens were safe.

Finding their food and water in their new coop.

The first indication of trouble came entirely too late. Glinda and Rosie, two of the other hens who'd traveled with Checkers but who hadn't been particularly kind to her had been living quietly in the dog run. The fence was sturdy but one night, as I locked up and brought the cats in to be fed, I ignored that little voice that warned me to shut the gate to our backyard. I reasoned that there was another gate where the hens were staying. The next day, I noticed Glinda and Rosie were missing as I washed the dishes. I ran outside to find nothing but a pile of feathers. The fox had slipped right through the dog run gate. If I had listened to that still, small voice the night before, I'd still be getting fresh eggs.

I was livid. Not entirely at the fox but myself. I was determined to keep the rest of the girls safe so I checked them frequently to make sure they were all accounted for. I began to relax a little, thinking the fox had been frustrated and had given up trying to get the remaining hen and chicks until I sat at the computer one afternoon and heard Snickers spitting and hissing at a strange dog-like noise. I raced downstairs to find Snickers atop our garbage can, chased there by the rascally fox.

In my slippers, I ran outside, yelling at the cunning beast who just trotted away, stopped and smirked at me. If I could have gotten my hands on him, I'd have strangled him for sure. Through neighborhood gossip, I found out someone in the nearby likes to feed lunch meat to the creature from his porch. It explained the fox's lack of fear and coming out in the middle of the day right up to our house.

Our crazy chicken lady herding the chicks.

Making sure Snickers was safe, my thoughts immediately turned to the chicks and their caretaker hen. I ran to the back. "Here, chick chick-ee!" but no one answered. I went in to find only a few feathers left as evidence that I'd even had chicks.

Checkers and Kate watching each other.

I would be a liar if I said I didn't bawl my eyes out. My eyes still sting with tears when I think of it. I was so frustrated, felt so useless and felt like all of my effort had been in vain. To top it off, that fox had been so greedy, decimating my entire flock of nine hens in a matter of days! I'm not quite sure what I am supposed to have learned from this life lesson other than that foxes are naughty and so keen and intelligent. I thought I already knew that.

Checkers kept an eye on everyone to the very end.

I'm still not sure where the fox got in the hen house. I walked the perimeter of the fence and found no spots dug up or stones unturned. It is utterly perplexing. One thing is for sure though--the next time I get chickens--with a dog, a trap, electric wire, somehow--I'll be ready for that sneaky fox.

Baby's Oat Biscuits

2013-05-14T08:18:00.000-05:00

Now that Kate has sprouted a few teeth, she's chewing on everything. These cookies are wonderful because they're a) homemade b) quick c) sugarless d) healthy e) easy for babies to chew. I toss her one to snack on while I'm getting her meal ready and she's completely content. Beware they are crumbly, so they're not the ideal church or in-the-car snack but are superb otherwise.

Looks like we found a winner!

Ingredients:

1 cup quick oats
1 cup oat flour (grind about 1 1/2 cups quick oats into a course flour in a food processor or blender)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 cup overripe bananas (about two)
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 Tablespoons oil

Mash bananas. Mix in oil and vanilla. Add dry ingredients and blend well. Drop by spoonfuls on a greased cookie sheet and bake for 12 to 15 minutes. Cool.

Enjoy!

Kilz It All

2013-05-11T09:24:00.001-05:00

Getting started on the "heartbeat monitor" master bathroom.

One of the things my younger sister has quite a talent for is ebonics. A sweet, mother of three can string together language any gangster could understand (minus the unsavory swear words, of course). So, when I told her my first line of business was priming the entire house, she busted out with:

"Weez gunna Kilz it all, yo!"

(In case you're not a home improvement buff, Kilz is an excellent brand of primer)

Getting a good start on the girls' room--the walls, trim, windows, doors--everything!

That about sums it up. Between the previous owner's choice of dark colors, their five hairy dogs, smoking indoors and the rodents that took up residence while the home was vacant, every inch of the house will be primed multiple times before it's painted.

I have even spread a few layers of primer on our bathroom floor to take care of the unpleasant smell.

Even the incinerator-looking laundry shoot will have to go.

Of course, first I filled in the thousands (literally THOUSANDS) of nail holes, staple holes, gouges and chips in the walls.

Ah, much better!

And a word of advice: if you won't stop smoking for your own health or even to save money, do it for the sake of your real estate value. The ceilings look so much cleaner and brighter when they're bright white rather than a sickly nicotine-yellow.

Can you spot the nicotine patch on the ceiling?

Priming is just the beginning, but it's already feeling (and smelling and looking) more like our own home.

Nightcrawler

2013-05-10T07:06:00.000-05:00

Look at the size of that nightcrawler!

No Butter, No Flour Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies

2013-05-08T07:04:00.002-05:00

I like to try different recipes once in a while and this no butter, no flour chocolate chip cookie ended up being pretty delicious. Though it is butterless and flourless, it doesn't mean it's no bake. Still, it whips up pretty quick and perfectly satisfies any sweet tooth. Makes about 16 to 20 cookies too so you won't have a cookie overload.

Ingredients:

1 cup creamy or chunky peanut butter
2/3 cup brown sugar
1 Tablespoon molasses
1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla
2 large eggs
2/3 cup rolled oats
1 teaspoon baking soda
2/3 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350F. In a small bowl, toss together the oats and baking soda. Set aside. In a larger bowl, beat together the peanut butter, brown sugar, eggs and vanilla until smooth. Fold in dry ingredients. Gently stir in chocolate chips.

Roll cookies into 2 inch dough balls and place on a cookie sheet, flattening slightly (a cookie scoop may be used instead since the dough will be very sticky). Bake 9 to 11 minutes or until edges begin to turn a golden brown. Cool two minutes on the cookie sheet and transfer to a wire rack.

Enjoy!

Thank you to The Ambitious Kitchen for the recipe inspiration!

Bug Patrol

2013-05-06T20:08:00.001-05:00

While in college, I had several jobs where I worked closely with insects. I did everything from clean out cockroach cages, handled bloodthirsty female mosquitoes and trapped stable flies to nursing housefly maggots to adulthood so I could run all sorts of experiments on them. Despite my discomfort, I learned volumes about bugs which has been put to good use on our acreages.

A praying mantis egg pod--50 to 200 of the little guys will hatch in about a month. I'm going to keep an eye on them and will be rooting them along!

This year's insect population--flies, mosquitoes, ticks, slugs--has already been astounding. With children around, we try our best to keep harmful toxins to a minimum and when there's a natural solution, we're even happier. Jack had a conversation with a coworker that eventually led us to ownership of four praying mantis egg pods. After our weekly family home evening, we went outside together and strategically placed the pods. In a month or so, the praying mantis young will emerge and literally devour any insect they can get a hold of, including each other.

Here's where a fresh pile of manure is handy:

Thank goodness we have an endless supply on hand (I took the opportunity to remind Jack that the horses aren't total lawn ornaments). With a pile of manure under each egg sack, it will attract smaller insects that will nourish the praying mantises until they're big enough to go after the ticks, mosquitoes, flies, slugs, etc. Seriously, we can use all the bug patrol we can get out here.

One of the pods attached in the horses' pasture.

After our leisurely walk around the property, we picked a few ripe strawberries from our infant berry patch and headed inside for some ice cream. Mother Nature will take care of the rest.

Taking a peak at some flowers in our slice of forest.

A Taste of The Rolex

2013-05-05T13:22:00.002-05:00

Since moving to Indy, one thought has been at the forefront of my mind:

Try and tell me that horse and rider aren't athletes.

You are only three hours from The Rolex!!!

I walked where the horses galloped!

In case you don't speak horse, I'm not particularly excited about uber-pricey wrist watches as I am about what those sharp-looking timepieces sponsor. The Rolex is the only four star three day equestrian event in the United States. If you know me at all, you'd know anything horse is sure to make me happy.

Ever since I began taking serious riding lessons, followed shortly by the purchase of the flashy gelding we all know as Stoney, I've dreamed of going down to watch the event.

More so, I've dreamed about competing in the event. Sure, competing in equestrian sports isn't at the top of my priorities at the moment, but it's been simmering in my thoughts for fifteen years.

It's not going away anytime soon.

Thanks mom for helping cart along the children.

The week prior to The Rolex we were in Nebraska for a family wedding but even after repeated inquiries, Jack insisted he wanted to go spend time with us.

That horse got some serious air.

Though I would have swooned to see the elegant dressage Thursday and Friday, this year, we only went for the thrilling cross country test on Saturday.

The day was cloudy and cool--perfect weather for cross county. With our lunches, diapers, blankets and cameras stuffed beneath a jogging stroller, we headed out with all three children.

We made it to the Rolex!

Of all the thousands of people watching the spectacular athletes, more people brought their dogs than their toddlers. It was a lot of work pushing or carrying or chasing our girls around the course but they clapped and cheered just as loudly as anyone else.

Jack and Claire taking a break and a nap.

Of course, it's a lot easier being a child who can nap anywhere from a hiking backpack to a jogging stroller to their daddy's shoulder.

We had a lovely picnic lunch during the break, napping, eating and playing hide and seek until the riders started off again.

After the last horse left the starting gate, we walked around the Kentucky Horse park until our feet and backs were exhausted. We glimpsed at the stadium jumps we'd be missing. . .

. . .and bought a coil of fencing off a display so we could finish the horses' pasture when we got home.

And, of course took and opportunity to climb aboard some of the jumps (they're pretty darn high and very sturdy).

Jack waded out with the girls so the could sit on one of the ducky water jumps.

All in all, it was a fantastic day and though we were all exhausted, I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

If you've ever wondered if the horses enjoy what they're doing, you should see how fast the excitedly charge around the course and fearlessly take on the obstacles.

This year, we had a taste of The Rolex but I'm already looking forward to next year's trip.

Thanks for keeping the dream alive mom. And thank you Jack for going without too much complaint.

A huge, major goal crossed off my list. I've been waiting fifteen years to go-FINALLY!

Mother Hen

2013-05-02T11:32:00.001-05:00

After the tragic hawk attack and the demise of Pepper, the hens at my mother's house were (quite literally) cooped up. That didn't sit well with them. They felt the need to adamantly reassert their pecking order and apparently, Checkers is at the very bottom. By the time she was discovered, a good deal of her back and wing feathers were ripped out and she was obviously in a lot of pain.

Glinda, Rosie and a handful of chicks made their way to Indiana with us. Hoping that the two other hens would be gentler with Checkers, the three of them went to live in the chicken coop while the chicks are growing a bit bigger before their venture outside in a spare water trough.

Nope.

Poor Checkers just couldn't catch a break. We wrapped her fresh wounds in gauze and vet wrap until the bleeding stopped and put her in with the chicks. After a day's recovery, this is what she decided to spend her time doing:

As the scriptures say, ". . . even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings . . .". She had collected her multi-breed chicks of varying age under her wings and kept them safe and warm.

Checkers could have easily become a nasty, grouchy hen because of the way her should-have-been friends treated her, but instead, she tenderly took on the role of mother hen.

I'm going to try to be more like Checkers.

Fencing

2013-04-30T20:31:00.000-05:00

Happiness to a horse is green grass.

One of the first projects we started working on upon moving to our new acreage was the fencing for the horses. After all, the whole point of us having an acreage is so we could enjoy our farm animals in our very own backyard. Fence building is tedious yet strenuous work, as demonstrated by Evelyn.

After drilling holes, getting the bobcat unstuck, dragging hundreds of posts to said holes, setting posts, driving over tons (literally tons) of gravel by wheelbarrow to fill post holes, measuring and putting in barbed staples, bracing corners and mounting gates, then comes the fun and easy part--pulling the fencing through.

Well, it's fun until the fence goes around the first corner. Then it gets difficult.

Then it's difficult and boring.

Oops. I think she worked too hard.

But, I'm happy to report, the horses' fence is finished! One major goal off the list!

(The horses asked me to thank you Evelyn).

Stoney's Birthday Party

2013-04-29T08:21:00.000-05:00

Our big gelding turned eighteen today. Stoney's birthday party was rather mild, with rolled oats, molasses, carrots, plenty of green grass and a good brushing.

My, how time flies when you're having fun (Stoney's been with our family since he was a green two year old)!

Here's to many more, my good boy.

Bee Buffet

2013-04-26T07:14:00.001-05:00

The flowers are out in full bloom...

...and good thing too.

The bees are enjoying a bee buffet...

...which means more honey soon!

Patience Is...

2013-04-25T06:28:00.001-05:00

Patience is walking a horse back to the paddock, only to be yanked to a stop every two feed while they grab another mouthful of green grass.

Travel Companions

2013-04-23T16:14:00.000-05:00

Jack and the girls make awesome travel companions. They slept at least six hours of our ten hour trip back to Indy. See?

Later in the day, sleeping again!

The three hens we brought back from my parents', however, are terrible travel companions. It wasn't that they escaped their boxes and wreaked havoc. It was the noises they kept making. Not, "Cluck, cluck, or the telltale egg-laying, "baw-gawk!" Their vocalizations sounded like everything from a whimpering child, a choking baby or the van breaking down. More than once, my heart skipped a beat, thinking there was a cop chasing me down. Nope. It was Rosie, Glinda or Checkers every time.

Surely they were chuckling all the way home. We did get an egg en route though. I guess that makes their practical jokes worth it.

Alvin

2013-04-23T07:49:00.001-05:00

We returned home late afternoon from a family wedding and directly after changing diapers, we all split our separate ways to take care of the animals. Jack haltered the horses and let them at our lush, overgrown yard while I went inside to check on the cats. We were only gone for an extended weekend so I left a large bowl of water and cat food to sustain them. It was probably a month's worth of food but they gorged themselves on well over half. Picking them up to put them outside for some fresh air, I was certain they gained five pounds each.

The nurses preparing a box for the chipmunk.

It wasn't ten minutes later that I watched Hercules and Snickers batting around a poor little chipmunk. He was old enough to have his eyes open but his mobility was wobbly, like a newly walking toddler. He wasn't fast enough to give the cats chase and though they tried to encourage him to run, they weren't impressed. Had they not been full-to-the-brim on cat food, the chipmunk's fate may have been different but he got lucky.

Snuggling in his bed.

We put the shivering rodent in a box with some of the horses' sweet smelling hay and will watch and see how the little guy does.

And, as if there were any other name for a chipmunk, this guy is going by Alvin.

Like A Farm

2013-04-21T10:19:00.001-05:00

A family wedding brought us back to Nebraska for an extended weekend. Usually, I devoted at least some of the time to giving Clay a bath and trimming his nails or cleaning out the cat box for grumpy old Ripley but both greyhound and cat have gone all the way of the earth.

I miss them but there was still plenty of animals to look after.

One of the older hens, Checkers, who will be making a move to Indiana.

My mom has been after an elusive breed of hen since she first got her flock: the black australorp. They lay unusually large brown eggs which are often double-yolked. Of course, she couldn't just get a few for her. She phoned and asked (repeatedly) if I wanted some chicks.

She's already named Jellybean Junior, a.k.a. J.J.

How could I say no?

(ESPECIALLY to a face like that?)

Jack doesn't care much for hens but he never complains when I whip up an omelet for him. So, about eight of the girls--a few chicks and a few older, already-laying hens will come back to Indiana. Lucky for us too, we've already got a little shed that would be a perfect coop with a little paint and a fenced in yard.

Our acreage is feeling more and more like a farm by the day.

Do You Want One?

2013-04-16T21:16:00.000-05:00

Do you want a baby, Dancer?

Dancer always been interested in children and babies. Perhaps it's because they give up handfuls of grass so easily. Perhaps it's because they're so small and often ride in beguiling hiking backpacks and jogging strollers. Whatever the reason, she's curious about them.

One of my goals is to breed Dancer. I don't take the task of creating a new life lightly. I couldn't bring myself to find an old stud down the road and turn around to sell the foal if I didn't like the results. It will take a bit of research--a horse's conformation and temperament is even more important than its color.

Of course, I'm not even sure it would happen this year. Well, technically next year since horses have an eleven month gestation and any resulting foal would be born next spring. I'm excited at the prospect of breeding my own equine athlete (my mother insists it would be an investment towards my future career riding in the Rolex once my children are grown. I tend to agree. We'll see what Jack says).

For now, the thought is simmering in the back of my mind. Whatever we decide, Dancer's giving us plenty of entertainment otherwise.

Lesson of the Honey Bee

2013-04-15T08:34:00.000-05:00

Notice anything "off" about Jack's photo? Compare his ears. Though he's got notoriously ample earlobes to begin with, one of his ears is not like the other.

The increased size of his right earlobe is due to a honey bee sting. She got upset and defensive that Jack was looking around the hive, eventually getting frustrated and angry enough to sting. It did it's job.

However, in the end, the bee loses. Of course a sting hurts the offender but it is she that perishes from her own wrath.

Getting ready to move the girls to their new home.

So, as much as we sometimes would like to act on our passions, it is always better to be patient and forgive and forget.

That is the lesson of the honey bee.

What Grazers Do Best

2013-04-14T07:05:00.000-05:00

Like Iowa, Indiana has no trouble growing grass. That is fortunate for people who love to mow and animals that love to graze. That would include both me and my horses but in the course of the move, our poor old riding mower took quite a beating and is near death. It would be pretty difficult to mow without a steering wheel, I'm guessing.

So, I decided to let grazers do what they do best: graze. We have a little chain-link fence backyard that needed a bit of trimming.

Thankfully they avoided stepping on our new garden while they rose to the challenge of trimming down the grass.

The entertainment while I wash dinner dishes.

It'll take a few days or so of solid grazing to tame the yard but the horses don't mind doing the work. They're just happy there's green grass, regardless of how or where they get to enjoy it.

And there'll be plenty more for me to mow later.

The Price We Pay

2013-04-12T09:28:00.002-05:00

Jack managed to slice his hand with a utility knife while putting up the horses' fence. Four stitches even.

We are repeatedly told how lucky we are for being able to live on acreages and to have the skills and motivation to fix up homes. It's true--we're incredibly blessed and we're well aware of it. However, as with any lifestyle, there is a price.

We have been bit, scratched, hissed and barked at, spurred, rammed, butted, kicked, peed on, pecked and snapped at more times than we care to count by everything from spiders, horses, cats, snakes, dogs, and sheep to sap beetles, goats, roosters, hens, ducks, toads, mosquitoes, etc.

Somebody's always sporting scars, stitches, tetanus shots, scabs, dirty nails, bruises, bug bites, punctures, burns and slivers.

It costs a lot to fix up a rundown acreage too and we always have to make choices between two good things. I have literally thought to myself, "Would I rather trade in this five year old purse my sister pulled out of her girls' play clothes for a new purse or buy a couple gallons of paint?" So far, the paint wins every single time. Instead of smart phones, we've bought lumber. Instead of relaxing family vacations to Disney World, we've bought drywall.

Happy baby faces make my day.

I have never been so hot, so cold, so tired, scared, lonely, frustrated, weary, angry, filthy or exhausted in my life as I have while living on our acreages.

Sway-backed Stoney watching over Dancer while she snoozes in the sun.

All of the pain, anguish, suffering and struggles are the price we pay for this life.

But the reward is more than worth it.

Not many people's alarm clocks are a crowing rooster or spend peaceful evenings watching the unimpeded sun set while bats flit over head. Not many people enjoy their scrambled eggs that were laid fresh that very morning. Not many people eat wild honey or watch their horses nap while they wash dishes. Not many children have room to run, perfect picnic spots, pony rides on daddy right next to their own horses or wildflowers to pick. Not many people get to transform a house into their very own home. Not many people are as happy, content, satisfied or fulfilled as we feel.

We know we're blessed and are ever thankful for it.

They Sure Like Him

2013-04-10T16:21:00.003-05:00

Jack claims he doesn't have any particular sentiment regarding animals.

Whatcha doin'?

But they sure like him.

Homemade Chocolate Syrup

2013-04-10T16:12:00.000-05:00

Now that we've settled in on our new farmstead, I have a goal of saving money by making more food items from scratch. What better place to start than with chocolate syrup? It's delicious on ice cream, mixed with cold milk or drizzled over fruit and it's made with only sugar, cocoa and water. Easy!

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups cocoa
2 1/2 cups sugar
2 cups water

Blend the cocoa and sugar in a saucepan. Stir in water and turn on heat to medium. Bring to a boil and reduce heat, stirring occasionally for five minutes. Cool and store in refrigerator.

(This makes about 3 1/2 cups of sauce so it'll last a while).

Enjoy!

The Rehomesteaders' Television

2013-04-09T16:11:00.000-05:00

Around here, if you're bored, you go outside and watch the bee hive.

It's The Rehomesteaders' television.

How Do They Like It?

2013-04-07T08:07:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, we made a mad dash to bring the horses home. We had worked long and hard all week, setting posts, nailing staples and pulling fence. Saturday, we decided was the day.

Stoney is the epitome of a big brother--he had his own hay bag and decided to eat from Dancer's instead.

We live in what could be described as a retirement community and are the youngest family by at least 30 years. Our house is rural, yet in a neighborhood where everyone has five acres side by side. The older neighbors spend their days mowing and herding their small, yappy dogs so when we went to take cookies and introduce ourselves, we immediately had new friends and surrogate grandparents.

One couple, who also has horses, even lent us their truck and trailer to go fetch ours. Of all the things I needed this week, a way to haul the horses was at the top of the list. Their offer was a miracle as far as I'm concerned.

We loaded up the girls, fetched the horses and brought them to their new home. So the question, how do they like it?

I'll let Stoney and Dancer tell you.

Did you catch her holding her tail like a flag (a telltale sign of equine joy) and the series of excited bucks? Stoney would join her if he wasn't busy chowing down on delicious, tender green grass.

They're in heaven.

And so are we.

A major goal crossed off our 2013 goals!