Morrels and Fiddleheads for Mothers Day

Nicoletta surprised me on Mother's Day with a pasta dish straight from her imagination and ... the backyard. I saw her in the woods and guessed she was picking a boquet of flowers or hunting for insects. Instead Nicoletta was picking tender fiddleheads from the last few ferns that had yet to unfurl. She carried them inside (rather sneaky like) and sauteed them in butter and garlic with fresh morrel mushrooms from our neighbors.

Our budding chef laddled the fiddlehead/mushroom comb over pasta for a succulant lunch that even Julia Child would have been proud to call her own.

James Herriot to the Rescue!

I grew up reading "All Things Great and Small" by James Herriot. His life as a country vet among the heathered moores of England sounded peaceful, entertaining, fulfilling, and just about everything an aspiring 12-year-old veterinarian could wish for ... While some of my romantic notions have come true caring for dogs, chickens, hamsters, fish, and a menagerie of wild, injured animals over the years, goat ownership has brought my James Herriot notions to a screeching halt!

Our adult goat, Violet, came to us with minor bumps on one of her udders which we were told were nursing scars. Unfortunately, the bumps continued to grow over the past month and I finally accepted the fact that these bumps were not mere scar tissue. So, I called our friend Jane -- who is the original owner of the goat -- and told her that we needed an expert goat handler to come down and take a look-see at these bumps and counsel us on what to do.

I envisioned that she would tell us over-worried city slickers to just wash the bumps with soapy water, perhaps rub a little bag balm on them, and call it done. Instead, Jane showed up with scalpals and rubbing alchohol. The next thing I knew we were holding down a kicking, 120 pound adult goat to slit open what were infected abscesses. Blood and other horrific-looking ooze literally poured (not dripped) onto our garage floor. Thank goodness there were other strong stomachs on hand because I had my eyes closed throughout the entire "procedure". All I can say is, James Harriot would have been disappointed (in his gentle, old soul way of course!)

It turns out that Violet has something called CL (Caseous Lymphadenitis) which is the bane of the goat and sheep world -- a chronic diesease that affects approximately 30% of all flocks world wide. It can be treated (doing just what we did) and is harmless to people. That said, NO, we are not drinking the milk until Violet heals up. It is painful to pour a gallon of fresh milk down the drain each day, but we feel safer doing it. Hoping it will only be a week or two before Violet is feeling 100% and we can return to cheesemaking! Signing off -- a squeemish, no-longer, vet wanna-be

Honey Bees Arrive!

Our friend Adolfo arrived today along with 6,000 Italian honey bees! We couldn't be more excited (okay, except for two weeks ago when we picked up our goats). Adolfo is a self-taught bee keeper -- having read tomes about these exquisite creatures back in Guatemala. He put his arm-chair knowledge to work last summer after rescuing an abandoned hive from a forgotten St. Olaf student project. Adolfo was living with us at the time, and thus we were the lucky landlords of the hive. Needless to say, after tasting our first spoonful of creamy honey (transformed by the bees from nectar in our yard) we were hooked!

So, we ordered bees of our own this year and, with Adolfo's help, hope to learn the art of bee keeping. Our Italian workers come from California (no local bee sellers -- can you believe it?) and are supposed to be the most gentle of all honey bees. Having grown up in an Italian family, I find it absolutely SHOCKING that the Italian honey bees are considered the most tolerant and even-tempered. Can anyone say "oxy-moron"??? In the picture below you'll see Rocky and Adolfo applying some store-bought honey to the hive frames -- this is just a bit of food to get them started before blooms emerge (the lilacs are close!) Our hive of 6,000 is expected to grow to 30,000 by summer's end! Honey in yogurt ... honey in tea ... honey on toast ... mmmm.

Bartering for All Things Yummy!

One of the true pleasures of producing our own, high quality, healthy food is that we can trade it with other artisans, gardeners, and foodies! Pictured here is lovely, hand tapped maple syrup from Nicoletta's third grade teacher. She bartered syrup for several dozen eggs last week (I think we got the better end of the deal!)

I absolutely love sharing in the bounty of others and am always privaleged when they ask for a trade. It seems like such a time honored way to connect with others in the community, make new friends, and fan a new passion. Last year I swapped eggs and herbs for Red Bee Balm, Anna Bell hydrangeas, and Black-Eyed Susans -- what a great way to gradually build our perrenial gardens! Can't wait to see what our chevre, goat soap, and honey will bring this year!

A Farming Legacy? Reflecting on My Roots

While I often say that "I have no connection to the farm" -- what I really mean, is that I did not grow up on a farm (nor did my father who couldn't have had a more urban upbringing living through the Great Depression and WWII in Detroit's "Motor City"). However, I come from a long line of "peasant" farmers (as my nana would say) -- who eeked out a living as shepherds in the hills of Intermesso in Abruzzo Italy.

Pictured here is my great-great-grandfather (bottom left), great-grandmother (Bettina, middle), and grandmother (Elgira, dark hair, top center). This photo, taken in Italy, always makes me pause -- seeing the dirt under my great-great-grandfather DiGiacomo's nails and the sparkle in his eye. Monetarily poor but happy, I imagine, to be connected to the land, digging in the soil, herding goats and sheep, and tending to the family gardens.

When my grandmother and her family came to America in 1913, they brought with them what would become a tradition of "backyard farming" -- chickens, fruit trees, a few pigs, and tomatoes. They made their own pork sausage in the basement, dried tomato paste on their tin roof, and the canned tomato sauce to last the winter. My "big nana" (great grandmother) never learned to speak English, unlike her children who Americanized as quickly as possible, but she spoke to me through food every time I sat in her kitchen during summer visits to Pennsylvania. I guess this is where my farming heritage comes from ... it's the only explanation I have for the goats in my backyard, tomato seedlings in my kitchen window, and chickens pecking in a side yard coop!

I expect Nicoletta will be the next in a long line growers to make the most of their land wherever it may be (even if we skipped a couple generations)!

Eggs!

Spring is in the air -- and that means more eggs from our small flock of eight laying hens. Soft blues, cinnamon browns, rich creams, and speckles -- nothing more beautiful than the natural palette of Mother Nature. Pictured here is "Pumpkin" -- one of our best layers -- a three year old "Red Star" from "Another Quality Chick" hatchery in Decorah, IA (www.decorahhatchery.com/). Nicoletta picked out Pumpkin when she was only a day old during a trip to Iowa with friends - which meant for a loud car ride home (lots of peeping, which is better than ... ahhh ... you know ... and if not, read our first blog entry and you'll get the idea).

So Many Visitors!

It seems that the goats have more friends than we do! We've had visitors non-stop since bringing our four-legged ladies home Sunday afternoon. Our nearest neighbors, of course, were here first to gawk and ... shake their heads. Next came friends on bikes and, the day after, the UPS driver did a double take, stopped his van and wandered up the driveway for a "look-see." Said he's always wanted a cow and asked if we would board it for him ... um, what do we look like -- a farm? Nothing like a couple of goats to build a little community!