Happy Pigs

I threw a huge pile of old leaves into the pig pen this morning and "the boys" (Mike and Sausage, that is) were quite literally in hog heaven, getting to dig and root around in it all. I thought I'd share the smile with y'all by catching a video of them. :) In the background you can hear Peaches bellowing. That ornery heifer... I hate it when she makes that noise. LOL.

Done Waiting.

Last February I was reading book upon book about cheese making. If there is one craft that has held my attention for an extended period of time (4 years and counting now), it's making cheese. 

But 12 months ago, I was getting rather fed up with all the books I had. They all called for cow milk. And I had goats. What's more, I don't really like goat cheese (unless it's a fresh chevre that doesn't taste "goaty"). I like cow cheese. So I was in a pickle: I had the wrong species for what I wanted.

Then Mattie, my Jersey cow, came along in July of 2012. The lightbulb came on at her arrival. "I can make cheese now!!" Or so I had hoped... Alas, Mattie wasn't giving enough milk for me to do any serious cheesemaking, so I stuck to quick "vinegar cheeses" that were fed to the chickens. But I knew the day would come... I eventually HAD to hit the point where I could make cheese, right? I was tired of making soft cheeses; I wanted the real thing. Gouda's, colbys, cheddars, jacks, and all those other really good ones.

My cow is due to calve in 13 days. When she freshens, she will start giving 8 gallons of milk every single day. Every. Single. Day. That's 56 gallons every week. There will be milk. It is time to make cheese. It's time to pull out the red cheese wax from the cabinet, hunt down the starters that are hibernating in the freezer, and see about investing in a fridge that can be my very own cheese cave. It's time to do this. Four years is a long time to wait for something. I'm done waiting. 

Mary Katlin's book, 'Artisan Cheese Making At Home' is probably my favorite cheese making book; and I've read a lot of them. She makes even the fanciest cheese sound doable. And uh, being the photography snob I've become, I also adore the high quality pictures she has in the book. Okay, so maybe I do sometimes judge a book by its cover... Shame on me. ;)

I'm not sure what my first cheese will be yet; maybe a Gouda... Or perhaps even a Cheddar. But I want it to be something that has to age long and quietly... So that 6-9 months from now I can slice it open and smile, knowing that I'm seeing the fruits from early spring. Inside each wheel is proof that good things come to those who wait. 

Four years is a long time to wait for something, Dear Heart. I'm done waiting.

Oatmeal, Milk, and Honey Soap

Here are a few pictures of my big batch of lard soap I made yesterday. :) The soap turned out really nice, and I ended up with 52 bars!!

I also got two smaller batches of "fun soap" made today. One is a 2.5 lb. batch that's been made with olive oil, palm oil, and shea butter. This was the batch that I went crazy with and put cocoa powder and vanilla fragrance in. It smells SOOO good! Like chocolate pudding, or fudge or something... 

The second batch is made simply with olive oil, and palm oil (ran out of shea butter, or else I would have thrown it in there). The fragrance for this batch was the winning vote from FB readers (and if you're wondering how to find me on there, search for 'Goat Song Farm'!) and was a blend of vanilla and ginger. This one smells crazy good too, let me tell ya'. :)

I'll cut up those two batches tomorrow and hopefully post pictures of them on the same day. But for now, I figured I could at least show you my oatmeal soap.

Yesterday's Theme Song

If there was a theme song for yesterday, this would would be it. :) 

Spontaneous Me

It's on days like today that I get a lot of stuff done. Blue sky as far as the eye could see, a balmy 55 degree day, and I was high on caffeine. Oooh yes... It was one of those days. :)

I got my Saturday chores done in record time and by 11am I was working on the day's mad idea. I was making soap. Normally I hate making soap; it's tedious, my stick blender messes up, I have to wash a bunch of dishes afterwards, I'm always out of wax paper right when I need it... So the sudden urge to make soap took me by surprise. But I went with it, and pulled out 10 lbs. of lard, 3 lbs. of frozen goat milk, and almost 2 lbs. of lye. I had just read about a different technique on bringing my soap to trace and I wanted to see if it was true. I had always been told that you had to stiiiiiiiiiiir that soap until it thickens, and whatever you do -- don't stop!! Thus my lack of enthusiasm when it came to soap making. After the second hour of stirring a bowlful of fat and lye, I really start to think that I would rather buy my own soap. But then I read a new way: Stir for 15 minutes. Then wait 15 minutes. After that, stir for 5 minutes, at 15 minute intervals. I tried it today, on the biggest batch of soap I've ever done, and my total stirring time came out to 25 minutes. MUCH better!!! I think I could totally come to love making soap if this technique continues to work. I scented the soap with a fragrance called "oatmeal, milk, and honey" (which ,despite the name, smells nothing like those three things), and for kicks, I threw in a handful of ground, rolled oats. Sometimes it's just fun to be spontaneous. The soap is sitting quietly now. Tomorrow or Monday I will unmold it and cut it up. This was a new recipe, and a new method of making it, so I have my fingers crossed that it will turn out nice.

I was on a roll after that batch and *almost* made another one, but this time with olive oil, palm oil, shea butter, and more goat milk. In the end I decided to wait. No need to experience burn out on the first day, right? So that batch will be either tomorrow or Monday. I don't know what fragrance I'll use for this "fun batch" yet; some readers over on Facebook have been giving me suggestions, and I'm hearing a lot of votes for vanilla, lavender, or ginger. Now that I think about it, it might be fun to throw some cocoa powder in the batch and scent it lightly with vanilla. Hmmm. I think I might be on to something here. ;) No! -- must -- wait -- until -- tomorrow -- to -- make -- more -- soap. *valiantly holds self back from starting another batch of soap at 5pm*

The afternoon fled from me with the speed of goats who hear the grain bucket, and at 4pm I noticed the setting sun giving its grand finale as it began dipping behind the mountains which I have come to love so much. I wanted to be out in it as it bid adieu. So I grabbed the long bow, put four arrows into the quiver that I had clipped to my jeans, and strode outside once I had also accumulated my carhartt coat and some leather gloves. I didn't feel like shooting at a target today... Something fierce and wild inside me just wanted to let loose and see my shafts fly. Even soapmakers have a wild side. With this feeling swirling around me like a playful breeze, I decided to simply practice my long range shooting. I want to go bow hunting this fall. I want to see about bringing down a stag, even if it is a young one. So long range practice is every bit as necessary as close range target practice. I must admit I love the impulsiveness that comes along with long range shooting. It's like the difference between writing in cursive, and writing slap dash. One is refined, methodical, and lovely to look at. The other is crazy, impetuous, and perfectly lovable in its own awkward, quirky way. I didn't want cursive today. I wanted Belligrent Madness. I had no target in mind as I stood at the northern edge of the pasture. I simply drew the bow string, inhaling deeply, and let my arrow fly to the southern end; my mind willing it to go farther, farther, farther. It is so fun, you just can't know.

Today's best shot hit 185 feet. The farthest I've shot yet. I dog-trotted up to the arrow and to my delight I found the shaft half buried into the earth. You see, my arrows are not supposed to go into the ground, and it's very rare when they go more than 2 or 3 inches. I have a special tip that I put on them called a "zwickey scorpio" (if that isn't fun to say, then I don't know what is!) which works like a grappling hook and keeps you from losing your arrows to the ground. Before I had scorpios, I was terrible at permanently losing arrows, since the bow's force would shove them beneath a layer of earth with no trace of it's whereabouts. Since getting them, I haven't lost a single one. The prongs on the scorpio don't allow an arrow to embed itself deeply into anything.

So to find one of my arrows 185 feet away and slammed halfway into the ground... Well, it just about made me giddy. A shot like that just might could bring down a young stag. Just maybe? I'm not after any huge prize in my hunting dreams. Just some venison for the freezer. If a big one came along, great; hopefully my bow and arrows will be able to take it down. But just a young buck would please me... 

I shot more arrows; all of them coming close to my record shot, but none surpassing it. I shot fast, I shot furious. I was in my element. One of these days I'm going to have to splurge and buy ma'self a utility kilt. I think that would be awesome. Eventually the sun dipped lower and I knew I needed to stop, or else I would start having trouble finding my arrows in the falling dusk. My left hand is slowly becoming calloused and used to the driving pain that my bow string inflicts. Someday I will get a better bow that won't hurt so much, but until then I bear the bruises and swelling with a smile. After today's practice, my hand hurt with a dull throb, but that was all. Last time I practiced, I came away with a bloody hand, despite the leather glove. I'm getting there. I'm getting better. I have until Autumn to perfect this craft. I know all the deer trails and nesting sights on my neighbor's property. Come autumn, I want to stalk these spots, but with a bow in my hand this time. I look forward to it with more excitement than an average person could understand. 

Looks can be deceiving. Your normal looking soapmaker just might turn out to be an archer who wants a kilt. You never can tell with some people... 

Spontaneity. I love it. We'll make soap in the morning, and shoot arrows like a Scottish lass/lad in the evening. Care to join me?

In The Mail Today!

Receiving goat pedigrees in the mail isn't exactly something most people get to experience...

But to this farm girl, it's like Christmas morning all over again. Love those little slips of paper. :)

The Way It's Supposed To Be

I had always wanted a Carhartt coat... Always. When I was little, I watched people walk purposefully through Wilco (TSC to you East Coasters) with their scuffed Romeo boots, and faded, dirty Carhartt coats as they bought grain for their cattle, a new bridle for their horse, or picked up a few dozen chicks that were on sale. I watched them and sighed... I wanted that lifestyle, but at the time I still lived in town, and had only a large backyard to dream about putting a horse on (which never did happen...). But I wanted that lifestyle, and I wanted a coat like what they had.

In the end, I got both of my wishes. :) Except the coat took longer to get than the land in the country did... Funny how life works out sometimes. But I adore that coat. And it shows by how trashed it is. It's faded, it's filthy, only the bravest would put their hands inside the pockets, it's dinged up, the zipper only works half the time (because of the mud lodged in there, you see), the hem is starting to fray, and even the Carhartt logo is getting battered. But that's the way it's supposed to be.

I got the lifestyle I wanted, and now I've got the coat. Shucks, I even have the romeo boots now. I wear that coat every time I go outside, and I feel invincible in it. It's withstood barbed wire, a 100 lb. pig trying to bite through it (that was fun. Not.), rainstorms, arguments with ornery heifers, goat kids climbing on my back, and all those awkward happenstances I somehow manage to get myself into. 

I love the mud and the wear. It reminds me that I've accomplished two goals I set for myself many, many years ago. Mud and wear on an expensive coat? That's the way it's supposed to be.