Appleton Creamery

Hibernation

2011-01-26T11:42:00.000-05:00

I am in full-on hibernation mode.
The goats have been dry for several weeks, so chores are a minimum. I’m back in the house by 4:30.
What a gift winter days and evenings are!
I’ve taken up knitting again, and perhaps just maybe I’ll finish that sweater I started for Brad 17 years ago (that would be BG, Before Goats). Mostly I’m knitting in an attempt to keep myself awake after supper. Otherwise, I’d be asleep on the couch by 7 p.m.
On snowy days, and unlike last winter, we’ve had at least one a week since Christmas, we watch movies. The first blizzard, we watched 9 movies in three days. We’ve toned that down a bit to a couple a week.
I’m working my way through my pile of books that has been accumulating for a couple of years. I’ve read three since Christmas, not counting reviewing my bread books.
I’m baking bread again, furiously trying out new recipes to fit into the busy summer schedule. Our neighbor who plows our driveway is the happy recipient of much of this effort!
I’ve cancelled several of my winter cheesemaking classes, so Fix-It Guy can get some much needed repairs and renovations done in the dairy. It’s been too cold this week to get much done, which means more couch time!

ll be lucky if I can fit out the door, come kidding season. I better start my spring training... Kidding should start in six short weeks and then winter hibernation will be over.

Empty-nesting

2010-12-19T06:20:00.001-05:00

Whoa, empty nest again. Another year of apprentices come and gone. I know I make ironic jokes about them every year, but really. I enjoy each and every one of them and miss them fiercely when they go. I guess it’s been part of the higher purpose of my life. I have knowledge and skills to share with more than the one child I was gifted, so I take on apprentices like foster children in the hope that some will follow in my footsteps and learn from my mistakes.
It makes me terribly sad when I don’t hear from them, like lost children, I wonder where they have gone and what they are doing now. Why don’t they write? We did our best.... and It makes me extremely proud when I see the strong young farmers and artisans and advocates and activists they grow into. And the both of us love it when they flock back for a visit. Flung the world over: Alaska, Washington, California, Vermont. Or right in my back yard: North Haven, Thorndike and Lewiston. They are making cheese, or raising goats, or sharing the farm life love, or raising awareness of local food systems.
My kids.

Local, continued

2010-05-19T12:47:00.001-04:00

Finally, our supplier has found domestic garlic for us! Not local, not yet, but at least it’s not from China. How crazy is that, imported garlic from China?
This season, we have learned how to make rennet! Most people won’t really want to hear where it comes from: a kid’s stomach. Of course it makes a lot of sense that the very enzymes needed to separate curd from whey are found in the stomach. It also makes sense to use surplus kids (mostly the males who will NEVER be milkers on the farm) to harvest the stomachs to make rennet, and then roast the meat in celebration. Our friends John and Mary at Little Falls Farm, who taught the workshop where we learned this new skill, report that they are able to harvest exactly the amount of rennet they need for the year from the surplus kids they process from their herd. It just makes sense.
Meanwhile, we continue to experiment with vegetable-derived rennets. Unfortunately for us in Maine, the plants most used for rennet can’t grow here, but we can try. We’ve got some cardoon growing in the garden, and we will report back on how it works. All our experiments last summer with nettles were grand failures. Fig plants are also used, but also don’t grow here.
We are also experimenting with the most local of cheese packaging: beeswax. How cool is that? Renewable, recyclable, reusable, all natural, smells really good, and very subtlely flavors the cheese. And beautiful!
Now, we’re going to experiment with using kefir as a culture, so we would truly have a locally produced cheese from start to finish.
In love with local.

A Typical Day

2010-05-19T12:45:00.001-04:00

Here’s what life is like right now:
Sleep is restless after about 3 a.m., easily wakened by snoring, or cats scratching, or wind blowing. I start trying to figure out what needs to be done this day, and all chance of sleep is gone.
Take the dog out, feed her and the cats, wash last night’s dishes, check email, and if there is time, pay some bills online. Out to the barn by 5:30 to start milking. Milking right now takes two hours, with all girls milking at their peak. After milking, there is cleanup, kids to feed, hay to bring down to the barn, floor to sweep. Fill the pasteurizers, and start the cycle. Brief Jessie when she arrives, and give her the list for the day.
If I’m lucky, I have time for breakfast and something to take for lunch. Usually, I’m not so lucky, and I have to stop and get something on the way to work. Put in my 5-1/2 hours at my part-time job, then head home again.
I get home early enough to do an hour or so of cheese work or barn work before I start milking at 5 p.m. If all the girls behave, I’m done milking and feeding babies by 8 p.m. Back to the house for supper, and I’m happy to eat anything Brad cooks for me, because I sure don’t have time or energy to cook. Fall asleep on the couch by 9.
Usually, I’m not so lucky. If the phone rings, even once, then the schedule is out the window. If someone stops by, even for the briefest of unexpected visits, that hour is lost forever, and usually comes out of sleep time. Everbody wants a piece of me these days: Dad needs his internet connection checked, the Kid needs some advice on the phone, a local photographer wants to come take pictures, the land trust wants a tour, workshops to run. Lord help me if I have an appointment somewhere. Oh yeah, and cheese to make.
The apprentices can’t get here fast enough.

Edible Irony

2010-03-25T13:17:00.004-04:00

I am in the food business. The healthy, local, alternative food business. And my dirty little secret is that I eat at the gas station at least a couple of times a week. Some days, in my multitasking life, the only way to get something to eat is when I stop for gas. I have to get the gas. I can skip meals.
Gas station food is handy. As in, you only need one hand, and no utensils, to eat it. The coffee is always hot, other drinks are always cold. There is almost always pizza. And paper napkins.
When we visited Italy, all those years ago, our host friends delighted in showing us the high quality of food available at the gas stations in that country, and I've never forgotten it. Seems like it would be a nice niche for an ambitious sort of person, to create really healthy gas station food. Somewhere.

Apologies

2010-03-25T13:14:00.003-04:00

Apologies to my readers, if in fact I have any, for not posting for so long. Suffice to say that it has been one hellacious winter, and I haven't wanted to write about any of it.
However, we seem to be enjoying an early and warm spring, so things are starting to look up.
I will try to find something hopeful or funny to write about soon.

Still pissed off

2009-10-29T12:49:00.001-04:00

We spent a very fun couple of days at the Common Ground Fair this year. We always have fun, eat lots of food, and find some new source of inspiration to carry us through the winter months. We went to Kendra Michaud’s wood-fired bread baking workshop and picked up a few more pointers for our new oven. Listened to Mark Guzzi’s keynote, as well as his garlic lecture. Checked in with Cheryl Wixson about root-cellaring.

Ten years ago, we used to be able to sell our cheese in the farmers’ market area of the fair. We sold a lot of cheese, had a lot of fun, and many new people discovered us that way. But that was back in the day when you didn’t need to be certified organic in order to sell there. In 2000, the fair organizers began requiring anyone selling any kind of food to be certified. For years afterward, there was no cheese, local chicken or several other foods, stilll grown locally and sustainably, but not certified organic. It pissed me off then and it still pisses me off, that it’s OK to truck in certified organic food from anywhere in the world (coffee is at the fair this year!!!) but our farm, a mere 25 miles from the fairground, is excluded because we are not certified.
This leads to MUCH customer confusion! They don’t understand why I am not at the fair. They don’t understand why we’re not organic --many people assume that we are since we sell at a farmers’ market. Not so!
Here are our reasons for not being certified organic, although we manage our farm organically:
We don’t have the land base to establish rotational pasture. We only have 6 acres, enough for goats, but not for pasture. Goats don’t really graze so much as browse anyway, and they are very happy browsing in our second-growth woods.
We buy our hay locally, from a farm six miles away. This makes much more sense to me than trucking in organic hay from Canada or wherever. Our hay farmer doesn’t use pesticides, he simply isn’t certified, either. We haven’t got storage for a lot of hay, so he stores it for us. Works well that way.
We can’t afford organic grain. We don’t feel what is available is dependable or of high quality.
We don’t use antibiotics, but reserve the right to do so in order to save the life of one of our animals. Wouldn’t you?
We never use artificial hormones. Why on earth would we? Our goats are happy, and give us all the milk we need.
I’m not sure I really want to sell cheese at the fair, truth be told. I have much more fun just going to the fair, and not working. But I am tired of explaining it to people, and tired of having to go incognito, because if customers see me there, they think the cheese is not far behind.

Gone again

2009-09-22T13:17:00.002-04:00

Singing the praises of my 2009 apprentices! Seems like they, like the lost summer, only just arrived, and now it’s time to go. Somewhere toward the end of August, that faraway look creeps into their eyes, and while we are focusing on the rootcellar, woodshed, and freezer, they are checking on airline tickets or winter rents.
I can’t get through the summer without them, and it will be tough this winter when they’ve departed. They are like children that I’ve raised and am sending out into the world. Hope they come back to visit. Hope they send postcards!

The Search for Local

2009-06-10T14:38:00.002-04:00

We just got word that our olive oil is in. To back up a little in the story, we’ve been peeling back the layers of our cheese production, and attempting to source everything locally. The two especially difficult products to source have been olive oil (no olives in Maine, and not a lot of domestic olive oil) and interestingly, peeled garlic.
A happy meeting at a cheese class last year resulted in the discovery that one of our local caterers, a long-time friend and supporter of AC, Swan’s Way, imports her olive oil from friends in Italy. A couple of emails later, and we were in business! This year we doubled our order, and are eagerly anticipating our delivery of olive oil with a Story!
Stacey writes: “Lily Zanetti has been a friend of my family for 45 years. She began bottling her own olive oil about 17 years ago, made from the olives of 100 year-old trees on her property. Originally, she had the oil, which is processed in Lucignano, made for the enjoyment of her family and friends. But as she started getting more requests for the extra virgin olive oil, her oldest son Alex began to increase production and bottle the oil under the Villa la Piertraia label (Zanetti's family villa in Lucignano). The villas and olive groves are situated on Zanetti's family estate, just outside the 12th century town of Lucignano. Best known for its churches, art and Thursday food market, Lucignano is home to just 2,000 people. Located in Valdichiana region of Tuscany, Lucignano is nestled in rolling hills and is surrounded by vineyards and olive groves. Less than a half hour from the better-known towns of Siena, Arezzo and Montepulciano, Lucignano is a medieval walled city laid out in concentric rings radiating from the town square -- the only town in Italy laid out in such a way.
I get a shipment once a year. I use the cans, with a milder but still fruity ﬂavor, for all our basic cooking and some of our dressings. I use her bottled oil , which has a stronger ﬂavor, for the oil I serve on the tables and certain other dressings that like having the olive oil have a dominant presence. And I use the oil pressed directly from the olives in her front yard for the ﬁnal ﬁnish on certain dishes. It has an intense fruit ﬂavor with a strong bitter olive ﬁnish.
I have been in Lucignano and watched the olive harvest and the pressing. The bottled oils are still pressed under blankets and not with machines. After the pressing we went back to the contadina’s house (their resident farmer) and had homemade bread toasted in the ﬁre, rubbed with garlic and drizzled with the just-pressed olive oil.”

Garlic remains another challenge. Apparently all the food service peeled garlic in this country is from China! How odd is that? Even the bulk garlic at the grocery store (if I had time to peel it) is from China. It comes with quaint brand names, like Hometown Garlic, but still...! This time of year, we go through probably 10 pounds of peeled garlic a week -- not sure what that translates into for unpeeled garlic, but it’s a boatload. Sure would like to find local garlic. Hate the idea of lead in my cheese..

The Virgin Goat of Goatalupe

2009-05-19T14:21:00.002-04:00

One of the reasons that I raise Alpines is that they come in a variety of colors and patterns. I would get so tired of looking at goats that all look the same. Every year I hope to get spots and stripes and bands, and am disappointed when I don’t. Any goat that is born on my farm with spots or splashes has a guaranteed place on my farm. Forever. Even if she is fat and non-productive. I yearn for the goat with the Mickey Mouse pattern on her side. I pray for a Virgin Mary image. A map of Maine would do.
I am constantly tempted to add Nubians to my herd. Not so much for the butterfat, and certainly not for their hideous voices or frost-bite prone ears, but for the possibility of spots and frosting and new colors. I need to be able to look out the window and see a canvas of patterns in the herd.
Last year we added a Nubian buck. Of course we claimed it was for the butterfat his daughters would add to the milk. Secretly, though, I was hoping for those spots. His kids turned out to be oh, so cute, and oh, so marketable. Of course, those kids went first, and we’re left with monochromia (if that’s a word). So, this year, we’re adding a Saanen buck. Perhaps next season we’ll have little white babies running around. With spots or an image of Jesus.
But our farm is still not open to the public, so the faithful need not stop by to check.

The Year of Little Pea

2009-04-28T11:09:00.003-04:00

I have no idea why we named her Little Pea, other than she was only 4 lb. when she was born. Smaller than a peapod or a peanut? She was so little, I bought a special bottle for her. And of course she was spoiled rotten. She became our farmers’ market mascot, riding in the truck on Claire’s lap. Customers adored her.

We lost Little Pea last week -- the saddest loss this year. She struggled so hard to deliver her first kid, and we tried hard to help her. We took her to the vet, a caesarian was indicated, against my better judgement, and she didn't make it. She never got very big, and her kid was 10 -1/2 lb. Way too big for that little body to deliver. I’m so sad. All the yearlings miss her. Another disturbance in the force.

Welcome Spring!

2009-04-08T11:37:00.002-04:00

Kidding is stretching out longer this year than it has in previous years. We’re into week three now, with 47 kids on the ground, and at least eight more does to kid. Spring itself seems to be stretching itself out as well, giving us a tiny gift each day. This morning, I heard the first peeper! On Sunday, the bees were swarming in the newly blooming crocus, and the chives are peeking out. The snow has receded gradually over the last week, with only isolated pockets left here and there. The snow and hay pack which has been burying the hay feeders has shrunk enough that the goats can stand and eat their hay again, instead of kneel. And the best part so far this spring is welcoming apprentices Jamien and Jeff. Welcome all!

March forth, Spring ahead, Sucker punch

2009-03-12T11:59:00.002-04:00

To paraphrase T. S. Elliot, March is the cruelest month. Just when the sure signs of spring are starting to appear -- sap buckets, frost heaves, skunks -- the snow keeps on coming, and they take away an hour of daylight in the morning. Don’t they know that the darkness is the worst part of a northern winter? Our house is dark, I get up in the dark to do chores, I spend the day at work in a windowless room, I come home at dusk. Day after day is gray and overcast. Everything outside is monochrome and colorless.
This is one reason why I go a little nuts with the Christmas lights, hanging them everywhere, and leaving them up until Easter (as long as Easter is in April, that is). At least I can take a small bit of cheer from the colorful dots of lights everywhere. Until the snow is so deep, that all the outside lights are buried. And they are making them so cheaply that they do not last more than a season, and after three months of being on continuously, mine are all dying out. So, not only do I still have to get up in the dark, but my lights are going out.
I remember flying kites in March, in bare fields. I remember walking the goats with their spring kids in March in bare fields. I remember St. Patrick’s Day when there was green grass and daffodils. What is happening here? Winter lasts at least a month longer than it did when I was growing up, and I live less than 200 miles from there, and closer to the ocean. It’s so difficult to stay optimistic, when March just sucker punches again.

Where's Mom when I need her?

2009-03-03T14:00:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, in the height of the storm, there was a flock of little chirping birds in the crab apple tree, eating dried fruit. At first I thought they were robins, because I saw a flash of orange. But they were smaller, and had a tuft on their head, small beaks, and a little yellow stripe on the end of their tail. I looked up every bird I could think of, but nothing matched. Not titmouse, siskin, grosbeak, waxwing, towhee, nuthatch, redpoll, bunting or finch. This is when I miss my mother. She would have known.

Our Staycation

2009-03-01T11:08:00.002-05:00

File this one under “Faves”.
We are supposed to be in France right now, touring cheese plants, and drinking wine and Calvados, visiting Mont St. Michel. But thanks to the economy, our trip was postponed. And thanks to the economy, a backup vacation to an undiclosed location was not affordable.
So we went to Portland overnight.
And had a blast just wandering around. We toured a few new places we hadn’t visited before: Allagash Brewery (http://www.allagash.com), Maine Mead Works (http://www.mainemeadworks.com/) and Maine Distilleries, home of Cold River Vodka (http://www.coldrivervodka.com), sampling happily as we went. The enthusiasm of these new young entrepreneurs is simply contagious. And they are all producing world-class products. I am looking forward to the Maine Cheese Guild working more closely with the Maine Winery Guild and creating some interesting partnering opportunities. (http://www.mainewinetrail.com/)
We visited with our new friends Samantha and Don at Rabelais Books (http://rabelaisbooks.com/), wishing we lived closer to Portland so we could take advantage of their book groups and some of the Slow Food events that take place there. We bought some books and new kitchen gadgets. We dined at Hugo’s, Duck Fat and the Good Egg Cafe. Walked the Old Port. Bought more wine.
We even enjoyed watching Jamie Oliver and Nigella Lawson on cable in our hotel room. (no cable here in Appleton)
We’re still riding that crest of deliciousness and delight today, and hope it will get us through this next storm. We’ve got some new recipes and great wine to keep us warm.

I'm worried about the Robins

2009-02-23T06:05:00.001-05:00

I love seeing the Robins hanging around this winter, but what are they eating? Clearly, there are no worms available right now. The ones I’ve seen have been roosting in the crab apple, so I suspect that’s one thing they eat. There was also a bumper crop of pinecones this year, so maybe they can eat those. I don’t dare start feeding them, because if I forget to -- and I will -- it’s the kiss of death for them. But it’s so wrong to see the messengers of spring in a snow-covered tree! I can only have faith that they know things we don’t, and not only are they finding food, but spring is just around the corner.

Genny is deliriously happy

2009-02-12T13:03:00.003-05:00

After Zelda went, we were so worried about Genny being cold and lonely in the barn that we retired her inside, for the winter at least. She is living in the solarium, rarely leaving her basket. She gets up to eat and drink, then goes back to bake in spots of sunshine. She purrs non-stop. If she wants to go back out when it’s spring again, she may, but it’s clear she is stone deaf now, and we worry about critters sneaking up on her. She’s earned her retirement. She's older than my oldest goat -- 17 at least. Brad is even hand feeding her canned cat food, without her even asking.

I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink

2009-02-02T14:56:00.000-05:00

(With apologies to John Lennon)
I’m so tired of dragging around the 50-lb coveralls to do outside chores.
I’m so tired of frozen buckets of water to thaw each day, frozen pipes in the dairy to thaw each day.
I’m so tired of frozen fingers because I can’t get out my leatherman with gloves on, or open the gate with gloves on, or hook up the hose with gloves on, or bail ice out of the water tank with gloves on.
I’m so tired of seeing my breath inside the house.
I’m so tired of being cold at work because the heat doesn’t work right.
I’m so tired of carrying firewood with hands that can’t grip anymore, and arms that can’t reach or lift, and a back that can’t carry anymore.
I’m so tired of driving everywhere at 25 mph because the roads are so dreadful.
I’m so tired of all the extra effort of just getting through a winter day.

Please don’t let the groundhog see his shadow.

A disturbance in the force

2009-01-14T14:37:00.002-05:00

Zelda is gone. She had the best life a barn cat could have: born in the barn, loved by a 6-year-old as a kitten, loved by many adults as a cat, food every day, hot water in the winter, hot snacks (as many as she could catch and eat), a warm bed to sleep in, a job, and a peaceful end after 14 years. She was about as useful an animal as you could ask for. She will receive the highest honors awarded at the farm: a place in the memorial garden, a shrub planted for her, and Brad will play the pipes.
She is survived by her mother Genny and her brother Maynard.

Thanksgiving Diary

2008-12-19T05:05:00.002-05:00

Usually, I have an entire week to cook and clean for Thanksgiving. This year, I seemed to have filled the empty days with other commmitments, and the weather gods did the rest...
Friday before: went to farmers’ market and did deliveries. Should have cooked and cleaned.
Saturday before: went to farmers’ market. It snowed. Terrifying drive home. Should have stayed home and cooked and cleaned.
Sunday before: interviewed possible apprentices.
Monday before: taught a cheesemaking class in Orono. Gone all day.
Tuesday before: Finally get started cleaning. Big storm moves in, power goes out, all cooking and cleaning comes to a halt.
Weds before: Power still out. Go to farmers’ market. Pick up turkey on the way home. Can’t cook or clean. Emergency fence repair. Had to borrow neighbor’s generator to milk the goats and pump water. Decision is made to relocate Thanksgiving to my sister’s house in Camden, where they do have power. Drive the turkey and the stuffing to Camden in the evening.
Thanksgiving Day: Had a dinner that couldn’t be beat, but I didn’t get to host it. Here’s what I couldn’t do this year: my cranberry sauce (bought some local instead), Sal’s special holiday squash (made plain instead), any pies (bought a local one instead).
How the mighty have fallen. I give thanks for sisters.

The New King

2008-12-18T15:04:00.002-05:00

Welcome to Big Les, our new rooster, thanks to Jessie. He's a light brahma, and matches four of our hens. Our hens, by the way, are all named Shirley, after Brad's mom, at her request. So, it was only fitting that we name the new rooster after his dad, Lester, or Big Les as he was known to his friends.
Long live the King!

That Ol' White Magic

2008-11-19T11:06:00.002-05:00

It never ceases to amaze me that you can take the same basic ingredients: milk, culture, rennet, salt -- and by manipulation of time, temperature and agitation, get an incredible array of cheeses. It’s just magic.
..down and down I go, round and round I go
In a spin, loving the spin I'm in, under that old white magic called cheese ...

My Boys

2008-11-19T11:03:00.001-05:00

There must be some capricorn in this old virgo. I love my boys, and I love their stink. I am a sick woman.

Elvis has left the building...

2008-10-28T11:25:00.002-04:00

The King is dead. Our rooster, Elvis, shuffled off this mortal coil over the weekend. I miss his clarion call... The farm just isn't the same without his voice.
The bucks breeding snorts just don't do it for me.

Full

2008-10-21T12:09:00.006-04:00

Full woodshed.
Full haybarn.
Full grain bin.
Full apple boxes.
Full plate.

A Goat Named Pease (blossom)

2008-09-17T12:57:00.002-04:00

Two childhood friends named daughters Caitlin. I only have the one daughter, so cannot return the favor. But I do have a goat named Peaseblossom. I am thinking of using Hurricane names for a naming theme this year, and one of them is Teddy. No Buzz, yet. Sorry, Buzz.

Holes

2008-09-17T12:53:00.002-04:00

Wow. The summer flew by, taking with it some new adventures, and leaving behind some holes, literal and figurative.
We had lots of help this summer, with all Fiona’s friends she brought home from college. Our first lesson was that it’s a challenge to keep so many people busy and on task. Our second lesson is that teenagers need a lot of direction and lack focus! But we had a lot of good times gathered around our new picnic table, and got many things done around the farm that needed doing. Thanks to Steve, Jeremy, and Dylan, we got the firewood in, fixed the holes in fences and floors, moved a mountain of manure and built a deck on the cabin. Claire excelled at middle management and delegating tasks, customer relations at market, and packing cheese. Everyone loved the goats. We didn’t finish fixing the porch, and the holes haven’t been filled in.
They were exhausting while they were here, but I miss them all! Holes in my heart.

Spring Morning

2008-05-21T10:08:00.002-04:00

Out with the dog at 4 a.m., that zone between night and morning. Peepers peeping, owl hooting. Birds waking up, loon calls from across the lake. Goats stirring in the barn, muffled sound of goat bells. Bats returning to their roosts, wild turkeys leaving theirs.
Close my eyes and breathe in the smell of the lilacs beginning to bloom, and a light east wind brings the scent of the sea.

Oh Frabjous Day!

2008-05-20T13:25:00.001-04:00

... to paraphrase Lewis Carroll, we have slain the Jabberwocky of winter.
To paraphrase Martin Luther King, spring at last, spring at last, thank god almighty, spring at last...

Kid Heaven

2008-04-15T13:47:00.002-04:00

Just for the kids.

Welcome back, froggers!

2008-04-15T13:40:00.002-04:00

I heard the wood frogs last night! Welcome back!
Next come the peepers. Soon, the night will throb with their songs.

Out Like a Lamb -- no, Kid, no, LION!

2008-04-02T05:33:00.002-04:00

March did not depart gracefully. We shipped off the first batch of kids to their new home on the last day of March, and then it started to snow again. This endless winter just doesn't want to let go. More snow predicted for Friday. Such an April Fool.

Spring Training: Zero to 46 in 12 days

2008-04-02T05:23:00.003-04:00

The first kid of the season was born on March 19. We're now up to 46 kids, with just five does left to give birth. We've gone from not milking to milking almost 30 twice a day, from no kids to feeding them all. We've already shipped off 24 to their new homes, so the kid peak has passed. In the meantime, the girls in the barn get their spring beauty parlor treatments: hooves trimmed, udders clipped. They have to re-learn milking parlor etiquette: no crowding please! no bullying! please use the In Door! And I have to remember how to make cheese again after a long winter's hibernation.

Signs of Spring

2008-03-13T10:39:00.003-04:00

The saps buckets are up! Can spring be far behind? The stately old maples that line our road get the traditional metal buckets. Plastic lines snake through the woods and drip into tanks near the road in less accessible spots. We use milk jugs. I've seen almost every kind of container used to catch the precious sap, even plastic bags. It doesn't matter. It all means spring.

A Winter's Feast

2008-02-27T10:13:00.003-05:00

Last night we had breakfast for supper. French toast, with slabs of my homemade bread with Brad's own maple syrup. A side order of Cheryl's breakfast sausage. Accompanied by a sparkling hard cider that we brought back from Quebec last year. It doesn't get much better than this!

Colorless

2008-02-12T13:16:00.000-05:00

The monochromatic landscape of winter: gray skies, dirty snow, brown dead trees, leaves, grass. Black and white and brown goats, gray shingled house. Black, white, gray and dirty cars. Where are the colors?

I lust for a two-tone, candy-colored car. I miss the jewell-colored macs. So I had to go buy a pink shirt. Is this why Valentine’s Day is in the middle of February?

Christmas Past

2008-01-27T15:39:00.000-05:00

This is post-holiday tree recycling at its finest.
The buck goats get a holiday treat of the Christmas tree, and within a day, they've reduced it to a spine.
Their breath smells like balsam pillows.

Year End Accounting: Taking Inventory

2008-01-27T15:34:00.000-05:00

It’s not what you think. 2007 was the Year of the Goat-Inflicted Injury.
Feb: Got knocked down by the goats onto frozen nanny berries, which are like marbles, bruised my knee. It’s still sore.
Mar: Sprain my thumb catching kids during round up for the Easter meat auction. It’s still sore.
Apr: Reduced mobility in my bucket shoulder. It’s still sore.
June: Rip open my leg on fencing while rounding up escaped goats, in the dark, in a thunderstorm. Nice scar.
July: Get front teeth knocked in catching kids during the next meat goat round up. Emergency trip to the dentist. Not covered by insurance. Months of dentist visits to fix. They’re still sore.
Dec: Lay open the back of my hand during goat round up for expensive health check required by the state. Another unfunded state mandate. No trip to the emergency room, can’t afford the time. Lovely scar.
Jan: Buck gets ugly on me, and knocks me down. I whack him upside the head with a shovel, and he just shakes it off and shows off by ripping a board off the wall of the barn. I hope he’s still sore as he boards the meat truck.
Notice a trend here?
Resolved for 2008: No more goat roundups. All cull animals go at one week of age, or in the bucket of a tractor. No more expensive vet visits to test for diseases that don’t exist in Maine. My body can’t afford it.

Full Hibernation Mode

2008-01-06T06:11:00.000-05:00

Well, I am in full hibernation mode. With the short days, long nights, deep snow and cold driving me inside, all I want to do is sit on the couch and watch movies... I am only milking a handful of goats, so chores don't take that long (unless I have to shovel yet more snow). Evening chores are done before it starts to get dark. All the signals tell me it's time to go to bed, so I have a hard time staying awake past supper.
My sister tells me she can always tell when I'm getting enough sleep, because I start to get new ideas. New cheese flavors and types dance in my head. I find myself tinkering in the kitchen planning new product lines for summer. I truly believe I have time to bake bread and pick up the house.
All too soon, it will be kidding time, when I go from 0 to 60 MPH in about ten days. I have lots to do before then: a full scrub down of the dairy, winter repairs, a new hoop house for the kids. And oh my god, the taxes and financial aid apps for Fiona. Christmas books to read. Web pages to update.
This is the irony of winter. Not enough time.

Another customer rant

2007-12-20T06:48:00.000-05:00

Here comes another rant.
We are not open at the farm for cheese sales. My schedule is so packed that when I am home, I am busy in the dairy making or packing the cheese, or in the barn tending to the goats, or in the house enjoying some well-deserved family time. Poor Brad doesn’t need any more interruptions from customers who drop by and want to buy a teeny bit of cheese or, worse, “see the goats.” We usually suggest that customers come seek me out at a farmers’ market, or check a local store. If I’m not home, I”m usually on the road, with all the cheese.
But somehow people just don’t get it. They just can’t manage to get to a farmers’ market or a store, and insist on just dropping by. Just this week, someone had a gift certificate to redeem, and although I caved in and said, sure come on over, they still couldn’t manage to come during the two days that I was home and waiting for them, and they showed up in the middle of a blizzard.
I do six farmers’ markets a week during the market season, and one a week during the winter. That’s at least 150 opportunties to find me somewhere with a full array of cheese ready for their selection and my full attention.
And yes, we do have a "closed" sign. It's up permanently...

Snowmobile Hell

2007-12-20T06:41:00.000-05:00

It’s been such a snowy and early winter that the snowmobilers must be living on their snowmobiles. Many trails go through our neighborhood, and this year, they are also using the roads. It sounds like a heavy industrial park around here. It drives me nuts. I want to go outside and hear nothing but the snow falling. I don’t want to hear the roar and snarl of those damned snowmobiles.
In contrast, Brad’s iceboat customers have been strangley quiet. Usually he starts getting the calls to get their sails repaired as soon as the first ice is safe. This year the snow came before the ice, and it’ s not looking good for good skating or iceboating ice. Somehow, iceboating and skatesailing appeal to my sense of winter sports much more than snowmobiling. Probably because it’s quiet.

Classic New England Seasons

2007-12-11T13:35:00.000-05:00

We enjoyed the most perfect snow day this week. We had no where we had to go; it was a snow day from school, and we’d planned a down day to recover from our weekend holiday sale. The snow was picture-perfect - fluffy and light. We stayed inside all day and just watched it fall, baked bread and ate the whole loaf hot from the oven with homemade butter. Then I made an apple pie for supper.

We continue to get light snowfalls to renew the snow cover. It really is classic winter weather, and fine with me for Christmas.

On reflection, I realized that this fall’s weather was the most beautiful in years, following a summer of perfect weather. I now expect a perfect spring. I just wish it wasn’t four months away...

We are rich

2007-11-14T11:31:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and we’re busy planning the menu. Of course, we’re taking the local food challenge, which isn’t too difficult for us in Maine. We can find all that we need, right here in Maine. We are so lucky and so rich!
Turkey - Mainely Poultry, Warren
Vegetables - our garden, or
Peacemeal Farm, Dixmont, or
Freedom Farm, Freedom
Fail Better Farm, Unity
Shrimp - locally caught in Penobscot Bay, gifted to us by a local fisherman
Butter - I’m making it from organic cream from White’s Orchard Dairy
Bread for stuffing -- Borealis Aroostook Wheat
Sausage for stuffing -- Cornerstone Farm, Palmyra
Mushrooms - Oyster Creek Mushroom Co, Damariscotta
Cranberries - wildgathered and bartered for
Cranberry chutney and cranberry butter -- Half Moon Farm, Montville
Herbs - our garden
Spices - gifted to my brother from a friend who got them in Spain, then sailed home
Coffee - gifted to us by Louella, and picked by her in Mexico last winter
Honey - Gardiner’s Honey, Swanville
Maple Syrup - either Brad’s or Freyenhagen Family Farm, Union
Eggs - ours
Cheese - ours
Milk - ours (but all milk available here is Maine grown and produced)
Salt - maine sea salt
cider - our apples, picked by Brad, pressed at Sewall’s Orchard
apples for the pie - ours
fruit wine - Winterport Winery, or Brad’s

The last and final nut to crack: nuts. We’re looking for Maine walnuts or hazelnuts. We know they’re out there!

Hunting Season

2007-11-01T13:41:00.000-04:00

All jokes aside about the month of breakfasts given in our honor, hunting season just makes me sad. Poor Lucy has to wear the silly collar. The goats have to stay in the near paddock, and can’t roam the woods. I don’t feel safe driving the backroads. And I worry about Mrs. Deer, who lives just on the other side of the goat’s fence in the corner of the field. Every summer she appears with her annual twin fawns. But for all that, I’m glad I live where people can still hunt if they want, and harvest the surplus of the woods. People who hunt understand that in order to eat meat, a life must be taken, and at least these lives have been full and free.

Empty nesting

2007-10-16T13:43:00.000-04:00

Jessie left a week ago. Louella left in August. Fiona left in September and is settling in at college.
Even my spring kids are kids no longer, but are goatie teens with raging hormones.
I miss my girls of summer.

What do they read to kids these days?

2007-10-16T13:26:00.000-04:00

During a conversation with Jessie the other day, I realized that I was always referencing the Laura Ingalls Wilder Little House series.

Then I got thinking about other books from my childhood that were about what you might term survivalist skills: Swiss Family Robinson, My Side of the Mountain. And later on, anything by Helen and Scott Nearing,

These should be required reading for anyone considering farming. Heck, they should be required reading to any kids growing up. Which begs the question: what are they reading to kids these days???

Butter Trials

2007-10-02T14:36:00.000-04:00

My apprentice Jessie and I have been talking all week about the components that would go into a truly local Thanksgiving. I've realized that butter is one area that I need to Get Real Get Maine in... so we've been conducting butter trials all week. We found some at the Coop that's made in Brooks, not too far away, as well as Kate's butter from Old Orchard Beach. But our biggest triumph of the week is that we made butter on Friday! It was so easy -- we bought two quarts of cream, put it in a gallon jar to ripen at room temp for the day, added a touch of MM starter at the beginning. When we got home from market, we took turns shaking the jar, wondering how long it would take, and all of a sudden, there was butter!!! We got 5 8-oz tubs out of two quarts of cream when we were all done. I don't think it was exactly a pound, as it felt lighter than that, and the butter seemed slightly whipped. But the bottom line is that we did it, it was fun, it was delicious, and now we can wow our families with butter at Thanksgiving!

Now I just need to find those Maine nuts to replace the pecan pie..... I need a recipe for a nut pie with either sunflower seeds or pumpkin seeds?

Customer Fatigue

2007-09-12T13:10:00.000-04:00

Customer Fatigue is a new term we came up with this season at farmers' market to describe that reaction you get when the 100 thousandth customer asks the same question AGAIN.
Here for your entertainment is a list of those questions:
1. Do you have to milk the goats twice a day?
2. How much milk does a goat give?
3. Do you eat your goats?
4. Is your farm organic?
5. Is this cheese pasteurized?
6. Can we come visit the farm?
7. Will this cheese be OK in my hot car for ten hours while I drive back to (---fill in the blank ---)?
8. Is this cheese vegetarian?
9. Where is Appleton?
10. What is chevre?
I'm not sure what to do with this list, but some days it sure is hard to smile with the answer.

Goodbye, Summer!

2007-09-05T11:56:00.000-04:00

Goodbye, summer! Goodbye super-apprentice, Louella! Goodbye daughter Fiona, off to college! Goodbye summer customers at farmers' markets. Goodbye warm nights and owls hooting and crickets chirping and Perseid meteorshowers.

Goodbye flies in the barn, and goodbye summer traffic!

Welcome crisp fall mornings, red maple leaves, geese flying. Welcome pumpkins, apples, squash, cranberries, turkey. Welcome Orion in the early morning sky.

The best animal on our farm

2007-05-23T13:07:00.000-04:00

The best animal on our farm is Jenny the barn cat. She came to us 13 years ago, pregnant, and had to be at least two years old at that time. She has seen several generations of goats come and go, and outlasted most of them, as well as three dogs. She never asks for a thing, except for a full bowl of crunchies. When her bowl is empty, she will gently remind me with just a look. She has given us six kittens, lots of loving, and squeaky purrs. She never complains, always comes home, and loves to show off the hot snacks she catches around the barn. This winter, perhaps I will allow her to come in from the cold. After all, we are both old and gray, and the winters are getting colder.

Thoughts on being a lifelong Localvore

2007-05-02T09:57:00.000-04:00

I have to admit that I am a little puzzled at the new excitement surrounding eating locally. This is what I have done all my adult life. This is my family legacy modelled to me by my grandmother, who raised a large family during the depression and wartime, and continued by my uncle on the farm in NH. I can’t remember the last Thanksgiving we ate a turkey purchased other than from the local turkey farm or grown on ours. One of my greatest pleasures in life is to sit down to a meal grown totally by us or by our friends and family. I got into a huge argument last summer with a man at farmers’ market who insisted that I must go to the grocery store for something, and all I could come up with was detergent, olive oil and salt. And even salt I could get locally.
Worried about food contamination? Eat local.
Worried about disruption to the food supply caused by weather extremes? Eat local.
Worried about real flavor in your food? Eat local.
Worried about your carbon footprint? Eat local.
Duh.

Attitude Adjustment

2007-04-21T19:34:00.000-04:00

What a difference a week makes! From five inches of snow and obscenely cold temperatures, to 70 degrees, shirtsleeves and crocus blooming. The bees were swarming in the crocus yesterday, which valiantly took up where they left off three weeks ago when the snow buried them. The goats are lying around, soaking up the sun. My wonderful apprentice Louella did not run screaming when the power went out during the storm, and we had to hand milk for a day.
Maybe I'll make it after all.

... more lies ...

2007-04-18T05:15:00.000-04:00

April 13, five more inches of snow. April 15, snow and rain. April 16, wind and rain and power outage. April 17, snow and rain. April 18, rain. Will this nightmare ever end???

The Groundhog Lied

2007-04-06T22:31:00.000-04:00

Fifteen inches of "poor man's fertilizer" on April 5, for God's sake.

Silence of the Kids

2007-04-03T13:26:00.000-04:00

The kids shipped out on Saturday, to Easter Auction. This is the dark side of dairying, and most people usually don't make the connection. For every dairy animal that gives milk, she has given birth to at least one offspring. It's an even chance it's a male, which makes it useless as a future milker. These unwanted males have to go somewhere, and that somewhere is usually an auction, sooner or later. I don't make any money on it. I never get back the value of the milk it has taken to raise these kids. It's just one solution to the issue. I would rather have them take a short trip to the butcher and end their life in a useful fashion on someone's Easter table, than the longer trip as a possibly abused pet tied to a tree or chased by dogs.
In any case, it's much quieter and calmer in the barn, and I'm getting lots more milk to make into cheese. I don't miss them -- I still have my bottle babies that will be next year's milkers. The moms don't even miss them. Fiona just surprised me by saying that when the kids ship out, it's like Jody Foster's character's experience in Silence of the Lambs, and that made me sad.

Why I hate the telephone

2007-03-31T04:53:00.000-04:00

Here goes my first rant... I hate the telephone. It is the biggest time waster man has invented. It is disruptive, rude and intrusive. Perfect strangers think all they have to do is pick up the phone and get some of my time for free. I run my life on a pretty tight schedule: I am in the barn milking twice a day for two to three hours, and can't pick up the phone, even if I could hear it while the mlking machine was running. While I am making cheese, I am using my hands, and can't pick up the phone. God bless caller ID and the answering machine, both of which can screen my calls, should I even be close enough to the phone to pick it up. I don't have a phone in the barn, which is where I spend most of my waking hours. When I get done in the barn at night, all I want to do is eat my supper and enjoy a modicrum of family time before it's good night Irene. I certainly don't have the brain power to talk to anyone in the evening, and who calls farmers after 8 p.m anyway?
The message on my machine states "please leave an email address for the fastest reply", yet people continue to leave messages with their phone number asking me to call them back. When would this be? 5 a.m. while I am drinking my morning coffee? I don't think so. My day job in the school system isn't very conducive to making phone calls, either, even if I wasn't on the district's dime or if there was a phone to use. Of course I have a cell phone, but for now, it serves more as a family walkie-talkie than a business tool.
Four separate times in the past month, I have agreed to take a scheduled phone call, only to be stood up. Waiting and waiting for the call that doesn't come in. Two instances for phone interviews for potential jobs (them applying to me), once for an interview (when will I ever learn?). How rude is that?
So, if you want to communicate with me, please send me an email. I would be happy to answer it at 5 a.m.
And don't even get me started on Sunday visitors.

Special Needs Kids

2007-03-29T12:09:00.000-04:00

Every year we have a kid or two that needs special attention. This year is no different. One little twin, born to a first freshener, was abandoned shortly after birth, so I'm bottle feeding him. Of course, he has now bonded to humans, so whenever I go out into the goat barn, he glues himself to my feet and follows me around. But lest I get too attached to him, he'll do this for any set of legs walking into the barn. The other day he followed Brad down into the woods when he was checking the fence. He got stuck in the snow so many times, Brad had to carry him out. Somebody stopped to take pictures of the goats the other day, and the next time I went up by the gate, there was a polaroid photo of him left for us.

These kids always get goofy names. This guy has been dubbed "Teeny little super guy" after the long-ago Sesame Street character. A couple of years ago, we had Peggy Eileen, who had a broken leg, and stumped around on her peg leg, with a definite tilt... Last year's was Moaning Myrtle, who would try eating anything once, and managed to rip a piece of rubber off Laura's rain pants.

In the beginning....

2007-03-27T14:57:00.000-04:00

I've always wanted to do this, so I think I will begin.