Cathy's Critters – stuff we do out here

Friends,

So we’ve got relatives in from North Carolina who are used to vising us and experiencing Texas’ notoriously unpredictable weather.  This time they get treated to a sight they would not have gotten back home, where it’s raining cats and dogs.

White Christmas! Cool! Ok, so once again we see that weather forecasting is the true “dismal science”, but we enjoyed waking up to a frosted farm.

http://weatherblog.dallasnews.com/archives/2009/12/no-white-christmas-but-its-about-to-get.html

I knew it might be a very long time before I saw such a sight again.  Even on days that are not immortalized in song as being associated with snow, it’s pretty rare to see our fields and barns covered with white, so I took some pictures.

Here’s a nice sunrise over our tiny pond:

Sunrise over pond

Obviously it’s not cold enough to freeze the pond, so the snow is not going to last long.

April had already been up since about 6am to feed the livestock before the rest of us had even had our coffee.  Santa doesn’t visit the animals, so we’re still on the hook for taking care of them.

This was also the first year that we decided to start weaning our teenage kids off stockings-hung-by-the-woodstove-with-care.  We didn’t do it cold turkey, but by insinuating that perhaps Santa is become senile and deranged.  In their stockings were apples, oranges, twizzlers, bubbles, fireworks, and cartoon character band-aids (Transformers for Casey, who will be 17 in March).  Next year we’ll rachet it up a notch and perhaps put credit card offers and kitchen utensils in their stockings.

The animals really don’t care about holidays, and most are pretty ok with any weather.  Here’s the zebu with her tongue in her nose as usual.  Wouldn’t you, if you could reach?

This girl is one of the newer members of the team.  We’d like to milk her and she has a new baby so that would probably work.  It’s just a matter of finding time to add one more chore to the day.

Wilbur and friends right after feeding

We had pork chops for breakfast, but nobody who had run around the farm – strictly grocery store stuff.

Recipe:

Saute’ coarsely sliced onions and minced garlic until onions are translucent.  Remove and reserve onions.  Slice bones off chops and reserve for stock – they’ll make a good northern bean soup.  Add more butter and fry pork chops until nicely browned on both sides, remove from pan to same plate holding onions.

Put about 1/8 cup of water into hot pan and loosen up material from cooking meat, scraping with wooden spoon.  Melt 2 tbs butter, then immediately add flour, about a teaspoon at a time, mixing well to make a thick paste.  When it seems that the paste will not absorb any more dry flour, add milk, about 1/4 cup at a time, over medium heat, stirring constantly.  Keep adding and stirring until gravy has the perfect consistency.  You should yield about 2-3 cups of gravy.  Salt to taste.  Add the meat and onions, cover and simmer over medium-low heat until the parents-in-law arrive for breakfast.  We removed the chops from the gravy, sliced them thin and then returned to the pan to serve with scrambled eggs.  It went over well, considering our audience usually snarls if the breakfast protein is anything but bacon or sausage.

After all, it has turned out pretty comfortable

It’s been a long 7 years of difficult challenges and dashed hopes of a simple, relaxed life on the farm.  This has been anything but idyllic, and I understand why farmers don’t recommend the lifestyle to anyone.  But looking back at every fence post, every barn, every shingle, and saying “We did that” is a most rewarding feeling.  I chuckle when our friends from the suburbs visit us and gush “Oh I just LOVE it here, I’d love to have all these animals!”.  I say politely, “It’s a lot of work”, but that ain’t the half of it.  Give it a year or so, and you’ll know if your heart’s in it or not.  After two years you’ll start to think you’ll know what you’re doing.  In three years, you’ll be tiring of the whole experiment and consider whether you’ve made a huge, expensive mistake.  After four years, some psychotherapy, and perhaps a career change to enable you to devote more time to fixing fences, you are probably past the point of no return.  You’re a transplanted suburbanite hobby farmer and you won’t be going back to town until maybe you decide your back’s getting too sore to carry feed bags and hay bales, or that taking 10 hours to mow the yard is getting really old.

At that point, heading back to the ‘burbs is not like giving up, it’s more like retiring.  I think we’re pretty well committed by now.  I’m sure there will come a day where the heavy stuff is just too heavy.  If we can afford to pay young strong backs to do it for us, then we’ll have the luxury of staying forever.  If not, well, we’ll just have to cross the bridge when it gets here.  We’re too young to be thinking “exit strategy” quite yet, and you just can’t get that view any other way.

By the time I write this (almost 5pm), the snow is pretty much long gone except in a few shady areas, my daughter told me I need to come see the cake she just iced, I smell the rib roast starting to cook, and I feel like trying one of the winter ales I received from my sister in law.

So in this season where we all (hopefully) take some well-deserved time off to reconnect with our families, catch up on some of the books gathering dust on the night stand, and reignite interest in our neglected hobbies (anyone else give or receive any musical instruments this Christmas?), we wish a very merry Christmas, happy and reflective time out, and a happy new year.

Sincerely,

Kevin, Cathy, and all the 2-legged and 4-legged crew members at Cathy’s Critters