When April started, I was going to start a blogging challenge.  Posting every single day, for 30 days.  Well, April 1st came and went and I still haven't posted.

I'm a little embarrassed.  I looked at my last post and realized it's been a good long time, so when I come back, I should come back with a little bang or at least something a little entertaining, ya know. 

So, I'd open up the laptop and meh....nothing. I have a lot to share, no one loves to hear me blather away more than me, I just can't figure out if I should backtrack and fill in some holes or just wait for something exciting to bring it all back again.

Well, nothing exciting has happened and if I fill in the holes, I'll easily exceed the 30 day challenge in one sitting.  So, I'll start with the end of the world.

You may or may not know that yesterday was the beginning of the end of the world.  No?  Oh, well, sit down, I'll fill you in on what you missed. 

It started out alarmingly enough with a text from my oldest daughter right after school. What did North Korea just do? Are we being bombed? What, wait, come again?  She did come again, this time with screen shots of headlines that North Korea is coming and the end is here!  Whoa, whoa, whoaaaa, slow down, we're not going to die, all is fine....as I'm secretly fumbling around for a remote control. 

Ok, anti-missile equipment in Guam is kind of a big deal, but no, we are not dying (today), go on with your day, I'll see you at home later.  No really, it's cool.  All good.

I got home and Brian was making the most amazing meat-loaf, the house smelled so good I bet I could have cracked off a corner of sheetrock for an appetizer.  Granted, I was starving, and yes, I'm a tiny bit too proud of how good our first beef slaughter went, but still, it smelled divine.

So much so, that I insisted we eat at the dining table as opposed to the counter or take-out plates in the family room. All settled in and the topic easily turned to North Korea and the conversation was rather spirited.  We covered it all; the difficult position Kim Jong Un has gotten himself into, the defiance and reprimand that got him here, the frustration he must feel as a leader being spanked by the UN and the subsequent rolling out of the US arsenal that is making it difficult for him to get his crazy back down to a more manageable level, with a side of hold a good thought for China and Russia whilst they try to get this under control. Topped off with a "no, I really don't think we're headed to a nuclear war. "

Wooosaaaa. 

All good.  Then, I mistakenly thought that this is a good time to transition to a chat about a "family plan".  Not for a bombing, but say, for a tornado or flood. (note; Gusty missed this part and for the rest of the conversation, inserted bombing and war, you'll see her reaction later) These natural disasters are, afterall, kind of a problem in our area. A meet-up plan, if communications fall apart, is smart. 

fail.

Olympic Gold fail.

I.kid.you.not, at that exact moment, a helicopter roars low over the house, it's dark outside, the walls vibrate and everyone lost it.  I'm on damage control, "Oh my gawd, that is Mayo One.  It has flown over this house ALL of your life!'  Brian is laughing.   Dane goes redneck, "I'll get 'da guns!!!" Brian laughs harder. Madison wells up and fires back "what guns?!!!" and Gusty is bawling. 

Pass the meat loaf. 

 

 

 

No really.  That's not just some figurative reference, metaphor or even a tribute to Yoda.  I really got my ass kicked and I (still) have a bruise the size of Vermont to prove it. 

Early on, my mentor told me to keep tight to the cattle whilst handling.  If you're going to get kicked, and you likely will, you want to experience just a half strength kick.  Being close to the animal means you'll never feel the full extension of the stroke. 

Being close to the animal means you'll never feel the full extension of the stroke.

One more time.....Being close to the animal means you'll never feel the full extension of the stroke.

Yep, those are the words that went ringing through my head as a landed backwards after a short flight out the barn door.

Now that I'm an expert on this, having experience to go with my knowledge, let me tell you that the kick is a two-stage stroke. 

The first stage is the pain.  Stage one falls exactly on your thigh and it leaves a mark.  Stage two, that's the power, it finds a nice squishy spot in your stomach and lifts you off the ground sending you roughly 5-8 feet, depending on the slope of the grade. Stage two is complex, it's where all that you learned comes rushing to your mind as the words "oh shit" fall from your lips. 

Getting up, I glanced over and Mr sunshine shot me a look.  I'm pretty sure he said, "oh shit" too but I could be wrong.  Either way, I think he scared himself more than he scared me, because he ran for the far corner of the barn, while I laughed and rolled to all fours.  Profoundly grateful for the chance to learn again another day. 

Lesson learned;  Announce your arrival to the barn, especially if you forget something and walk back across the open door frame whilst everyone is eating hay dressed with molasses and apple cider vinegar. 

I love that letter.  The one that arrives with a postage stamp and waits in the mailbox at the curb.  The letter that announces that new wooden toys are ready to be picked up.  

Menno sent word last week, right before the holiday, that my order was ready. I got the letter on Wednesday; "Come anyday this week, the toys are ready, but don't come on Thanksgiving." That left Friday or Saturday. 

I don't go anywhere on Black Friday.  It kind of scares me out there.  haha.  That left Small Business Saturday and that's a day out with Brian.  This is our third year observing the event, our second year down at Menno's home.  There was a new baby in their family and Gusty was beside herself when Mary offered the baby to her for a snuggle.  No pictures of the two of them though, the Amish don't have their pictures taken.

I asked Menno why and he didn't really know. Neither did Mary. 'It's the Amish way' was all she could offer, so we all shrugged and went back to making the baby smile and laugh.

Back to the toys.....we picked up all sorts of fencing, and two new barn & stable prototypes.  Both of them made the cut, no pun, and will be added to the line up.   He really is able to make my sketches a reality and I couldn't really pick a favorite. So I didn't.

As perfect as they were, they still needed polish.  I was going to offer them as unfinished or finished, buyer's choice.  The dark walnut, cherry and maple really needed a boost.  All locally harvested and milled in the family mill.  They needed a finish.

I've made beeswax finish before and love the recipe from Amber Dusick. 

4 parts oil

1 part beeswax

I was at the farm and didn't have my big containers of oils so I used a combination of two oils; coconut and jojoba.

I also don't have a microwave, so I used a copper pot to melt the ingredients.

The oils melt before the wax....

Finally, the three are one.

Pour into a jar....

and wipe out your pot with a dry cloth.

I wipe out the pot while it's still warm, I've found it's the easiest way to clean up before teh residual wax hardens.

The polish will start hardening as it cools.  To make sure it stays blended as it cools, stir it from time to time, scraping down the sides into the liquid. 

I had brand new wooden spoons that needed a little conditioning, so I used them to stir everything...almost there.

There it is....

Don't be shy...

I'll let it rest for a full day before I buff off the excess, but they'll be ready to go in the shop this week.

Beautiful.

Absolutely beautiful.

 

 

 

I've been so frustrated with animal feed stuffs, that even I was getting tired of my lamenting. More crying in real life, than in blog, but it was becoming one of my regular rants.  The price, the choices, the quality....the price.

Craig, my mentor, must have heard my whining all the way down at his farm and decided I needed a little tutelage on the finer points of old school farming.  And thank God for that.

He suggested that I come down, get a pick up load of grain and he'd grind it up for me.  I chased that poor man for two weeks and I was becoming worse than a fly in the ointment...or milk parlor. Finally, he said,"come Thursday."  And boy was I ready to go.

Still, I got there late-ish, but was delighted that the Rochester milk group was there picking up their order for the week.  It was wonderful visiting with my old friend Thomas.  It'd been so long since we'd seen each other.  All of us leaning on the bulk tank, chatting it up.  I was beginning to realize that neither of us was all that excited about shoveling 1000lbs of grain into the grinder. 

So, what were we to do?  Other stuff, of course! We  jumped in the mule and headed out to move the line so the cows had fresh grass for the afternoon...and then it was lunch time. Everybody's gotta eat.  So we did.  Nice full bellies and just like that, everyone was ready for a nap.  Ugh.  The grain.  The oats.

So, we did the unthinkable, we decided to "hire out" the grinding to the mill.  High fives all around for hatching such a great idea.  Feeling energized, we jumped in Hector (that's my truck) to see how busy it was at the mill. I imagine we could have called, but it's easier to get a 'yes' in person and how could I show a little ankle (just in case) over an iphone? 

No ankles necessary.  It was a harvesting sort of afternoon and our order was readily welcomed at the loading dock. 

Behold, a living, breathing, sighing, puffing grain mill...

We should all have such beautiful hardwood flooring. All of the years of wear and tons of fine dust had polished up the floors like a skating rink.  You could tell that Craig had been here plenty, he strode down the ramp like a hockey player and I nearly landed on my back side. 

We chatted around the big hopper and my base would be oats.  Which as you can see, come out of the middle chute.

Once my 1000lbs was measured, it left the large hopper and headed to the basement to go through a series of screens and the grinder.  From there it was shot back upstairs to go into the mixer.  But before it lands anywhere, it shoots along through a bunch of tubes and tunnels and you can hear it in the walls.  Then, all of a sudden you spy an unassuming little window in the door frame....Those are my oats! Look! Look! Clearly no one was as fascinated by this as I was, so I took a picture.

Off to the grinder, but we were making our own recipe so we had to weigh in some minerals and salt first.

Check out the simplicity of this scale.  If the arrow is above the middle, put more in.  If it's below, take some out.  Got it? ha. 

Off to the mixer.

Then into bags.  Our bags, recycled, reused, ta-da!

Hector, my truck, filled to the brim.

What a great day. 

When I was driving home, smiling about the full sacks of sweet goodness for my cattle, I remembered that I had a sale tonight too! And I was ready! No last minute photos or stitches or packages.  Just push the button. 

It's an amazing thing.  I make these...

And these....

To feed these...

I'm so very lucky.  What a great day. 

 

Update; November 21, 2012

In my excitement to share this hidden treasure, I neglected to share the mill's location, should you even find yourself in southern Minnesota or if you're a follower nearby, looking for fair pricing on good feed stuffs.

Ellingson's Elevator

100 1st Street Northwest, Spring Grove, MN 55974

(507) 498-5190

Brian on his first trip down.  Craig, in the background, showed Brian the "skating" ramps in the back and gave him a tour too.  Whilst there, we got a chance to meet the owner who said his mill just made it on the National Historic Registry.  What a treasure.