Soup and A Smile

Simple and delicious.  What more could you want from a soup recipe.

I'm sure you've tried some one-pot wonders, which are often regrettable.  This one, though, hits the mark.  And couldn't be easier.

Tuscan Farro Soup



I did sub a can of great northern beans for the dried beans indicated, and omitted the parmesan at the end (trying to eliminate dairy).  Oh, and added a bit of tuscan herbs I had in the pantry.  The farro does not overwhelm, but adds a very nice texture. 

As you take a break from supping and dreaming of Tuscany, take a look at this little gem.

Mr. DeFede tells the story of the day air space over the U.S. came to a halt on 9/11 and planes were diverted to Gander, Newfoundland.  The hospitality thousands of passengers received in Gander and surrounding small towns was remarkable and a testament to compassion lurking around the corner, perhaps when we believe it to be disappearing.  I will admit it's not the best crafted book, but the storyline will grab you.

Hopefully both the soup and the book delight.

There Are Days

There are days when I lose all patience with the animals and just shake my head and curse the heavens.

Let's look at this day, shall we?

A beautiful sunny, rather warm, morning greeted me as I pulled the little red sled with water and hot slop (hydrated hay cubes and timothy pellets with some oats and beet pulp for good measure) out to the donks.  I open the gate and for the five millionth time this winter am stopped in my tracks as donkeys completely block my way.  They will not move.

Finally the crowd thins and they descend upon the slop bucket (still on the sled) before I can proceed two feet.  I get through the crowd and try to get some slop into one of the feed bowls and four donkeys crowd me until I fear for my safety.  Again,  this has played out so many times I could spit.  So you say, well, why the heck don't you try another approach.  I have no idea how to get through the gate and get the slop into four bowls without them causing a ruckus.

Finally they are eating.

The scene in the barn is disheartening.  Manure from one end to the other.  My routine is to clean up manure at the end of chores, but this morning I couldn't walk back and forth from the coop door to the end of the barn without tripping over little frozen manure golf balls.  I had cleaned up manure yesterday morning, yesterday mi-day and yesterday evening and there was even more this morning.

I am sick of manure.

Now to clean out the chicken coop.  I fling open the door and ten chickens rush out into the barn, pecking, talking, finding their way into the hay aisle.  Good, now I can have a little elbow room to clean the coop.  No.  As soon as I step into the coop and start to clean they come rushing back, sure I am about to spread treats in every corner.  It takes several trips back and forth and for each trip I have to take mintsy little steps for fear of stepping on someone.  And, this happens e.v.e.r.y morning.

The last thing to do is put some Purina Enrich into each donkey feed bowl.  It is often knocked out of my hand before I can get it into the bowl.  Patience = 0/

At last morning chores are done and I am outta there.

Rick and I decide to have breakfast out and upon our return I notice the donkeys surrounding the only remaining tree in the pasture.  A lovely wild crabapple tree.  And they have stripped the bark.  It has beautiful spring blooms, provides shade for the chickens on hot days.  And it is decimated.

   
And I ask myself why I have these damn animals.

On Our Toes With Yoyo Weather

Recent weather conditions would lead one to believe Mother Nature is a little tipsy.

Icy on Friday --

I was sliding down the gradual downward slope right at the gate so threw some shavings to get a grip.  Always works like a charm.

By Sunday, this beautiful scene greeted us.

New fallen snow covering any ice.

Today we hit 45-50 degrees so snow is melting but tomorrow morning may be a slippery trip out to the donks.

As for donkeys, Luigi has turned into my cuddle boy.  Those who have been with me for more than two years know Francesca was my wondrous cuddle girl.  But Luigi has stepped up to the plate.  I love the face snuggles and nose rubs he allows.

At the moment I snapped this, it was hard to determine if he wanted more loving or thought I was getting a treat.

Back in the house, we have another moocher.  This boy comes on the run every time I cut into a carrot.  I swear he can hear that knife cut when he's outside.

He was doing his best begging routine as I cut carrots for the donkeys.  Although we're careful not to overdo it, a couple of slices ended up in the cute mouth.  My middle name is sucker.

Scenes From a Teeny Tiny Donkey Farm

Just got back in the house from feeding donks and locking up the girls.  With colder temps last night, the driveway conditions have worsened and it may be time for cleats.
Yuck.
That means one more thing to wrap up, zipper up, fasten onto before going out for chores.

I thank my lucky stars I found them in my parents' home after they died.  They have been life savers for me with-the-bad-balance many many times.

*****

I know for a fact those donkeys can hear the back door of our house close.  This evening, the moment I came out into the garage, the hellions started their "you never feed us and we're wasting away" hee hawing immediately.  They must have super duper radar.

*****  

A couple of days ago, Fluffy wandered into a snowy area, stopped in her tracks and started squawking.  Didn't move out of the snow.  Just squawked.  It might be best if we didn't discuss chicken intelligence.

*****

I thought the chickens might be getting cabin fever so threw a flake a straw in one side of the coop for them to scrabble through and play with.  To make the game even more enticing I threw a handful of dried mealworms on top of the straw.  Thus began the frenzy.

Helen (Reddy) loves to help clean up in the mornings.  After I clean off the dirty newspapers from the nighttime and am in the midst of placing clean paper, she hops up and insists on helping.  I politely tell her I don't need help and place her on the floor.  Up she hops again, insistent little girl.

*****

And lastly in this pictorial story comes the fine art of manure clean-up.  And you read that right.  It is an art.  Shortly after snowfalls, trails must be forged and they are lovely in their somewhat unsullied condition.

After some time passes, the condition of the trails change due to the tromping to and fro of donkey hooves on manure.

  

 But, the trick is to not, I repeat not, clean off all the smushed down manure from the trail.  Pretty in this case is not preferred.  For that smushed manure gives one traction on packed down snow.  Leaving a little layer provides safety for man and beast.     

New Hay Manger

I have been oh so remiss in not showing you the new outside hay manger for the donkeys.  Please don't give up on me!

As you know, if you've been following the tale of the four most destructive miniature donkeys on the planet, they pretty much demolished the original, made of wood, Rick constructed this summer.
Here are the remains.

Not much to say.  The photo says it all.

So, my can-build-anything husband put together an indestructible manger, or so we hope.  Metal and plastic.  Well, of course those donkey chompers could work on the plastic, but clearly wood is the prime material in their sights.  So far so good.  Can everyone knock on wood, please.

 

Lest anyone think they're letting me off the hook, just know they're finding clever ways to find ANY exposed wood on the interior of the barn that's not covered by wire.  AND they eat the wood shavings every night.  E-V-E-R-Y night.  I've been using the pelleted shavings that need to be hydrated when the temps allow (over 32 degrees) because apparently those aren't as tasty and I can actually get a good base going.  But the pine shavings disappear every morning.  This is a first.  No other winter have they done this. 

Perhaps I need a donkey psychologist to analyze the situation.

Lovin' That Chicken Feed

In spite of the fact we've had chickens since the spring of 2015, I still feel like a novice.  Learning, or trying to, new tricks of the trade all the time.  And trying to sort out the riff-raff from the authentic.
Recently I was exploring chicken feed through a chicken "expert" on Facebook.  I still can't tell if this woman knows what she's talking about, although she speaks with a very self-assured quality.  She brought up the issue of protein in commercial feeds and that often it was not sufficient.  Huh.

I have been using what I thought was a quality product based on the advice from a fellow chicken-keeper at the local feed store.  It's organic.  But wait.  The protein percentage is only 16.5.  What the "expert" recommended was 18-20%.

In comes a chicken blogger who highly recommended Small Pet Select's Garden Goodness Layer.  Crude protein:  18%.  The first few ingredients listed: peas, wheat, oats, millet, sunflower seeds, flax seeds, pumpkin seeds.  Looking good.

Take a peek at the comparison photo --

 
Joannie couldn't resist a little sample of the Garden Goodness on the right.  All the chickens love it.  No exaggeration.  When I pour it into the feeder they pounce with gusto, something they've never done with the other product.  The rub is the price.  So I've been mixing it with the other product.  I'm sold.  I'm supporting a small family run business with a product that appears to be a nutritious option and one that the birds enjoy almost as much as their treats -- but of course nothing can top a good banana slice.

Hear the Humming?

Four donks are humming along to this "White Christmas" movie lyric. 
Know why?
The pasture gate has been opened!  And all is right with the world.

They've been perusing the perimeter nibbling weeds and bushes and having a ball.

Except when their ever-obliging friend brings them hay.

The bad news - the temps will be rising tomorrow.  Eight pairs of hooves are crossed the snow stays put.