Suburban Homestead Store
Farmers Markets provide a valuable connection between the people who grow our food and those that consume it. They play an important role in keeping farms viable and farmers on their land, by providing venues to spotlight their sought after products. But, how do you know which markets are the best in your state?
That’s easy.
Click here to find out the five best Farmers Markets in your state. Check them out next time you’re in the area and spread the word! Getting the word out to other farmers market enthusiasts, local media, and city governments greatly impacts the viability of these markets and keeps farmers coming back.
Backyard poultry keeping has surged in the past year or so. Many families are taking advantage of the easy keeping and productive nature of chickens. But when you find yourself with an adolescent rooster, just learning to crow, many of us ask how do we keep him quiet.
Many cities around the country ban roosters to prevent nuisance complaints, even though there are several ways to keep roosters in populated areas quietly and responsibly. There are really only two reasons to have roosters in your backyard flock – to protect and to fertilize eggs. If your flock is well confined and safe from predators, whether they be furry or feathered, there’s really no need for a rooster’s protection. If you do not plan to breed your hens and hatch their eggs, or do not wish to have fertilized eggs, you also have no need for a rooster.
If you keep a small backyard flock without a rooster, one hen will generally take the rooster’s role. She will keep an eye out for predators, alert the flock if danger is near, maintain the pecking order and, in rare cases, may even crow.
But, if you see cute, fuzzy baby chicks in your future then you definitely need a rooster.
So – how do you keep the father of your flock with out disturbing your neighbors?
Most roosters begin to crow at daybreak. Even the slightest glimmer of light starts my guys off in a rousing cacophony. The trick is – well – to trick them. Trick them into thinking its still dark out.
Roosters can be moved into the garage at night, into their own cage where they cannot tell when the sun comes up. They can also be placed in a cage inside the coop or a spare rabbit hutch or even a plastic dog crate and covered with a tarp or thick blanket. Again, so they can’t see when the sun comes up. If they do happen to crow, the noise is muffled enough that most people won’t be able to hear it.
I like keeping roosters and think they’ve gotten a bad rap. I love the way they strut around the yard looking after their girls, their beautiful feathers spread out in a rainbow of colors. I love the way they perch themselves on top of fence posts or wheelbarrows, smug and indignant, showing everyone they’re the boss. And, most of all I love the chicks we raise to replenish our flock or give away to friends so they can know the joy of having their own backyard flock.
I understand that roosters are not for everyone and I understand that most people did not bargain for neighbors that crow so early in the morning. Roosters are beautiful and they do serve a purpose. Not having them may be a necessary compromise suburban chicken keepers have to make in order to take one step closer to self-sufficiency.
photo credit: 826 PARANORMAL
We spent our weekend under slightly stormy skies, unusual in Southern California this time of year, getting Brianne’s five show lambs ready for the State Fair. It always amazes me that after all these years and all the shows we’ve been to I can still spiral out of control with nerves and anxiety. The hardest part of the whole affair is just getting out the door so we can make the 9 hour drive with enough time to leisurely unload and set up. Once on the fairgrounds though all the tension seems to slip away and we fall into familiar routines. We all have our jobs and everyone gets to it with little or no nudging.
We have to be on the fairgrounds by 6PM Tuesday, but because the central valley of California can be so bloody hot (today’s temps hovered around 105) we leave Monday late night and drive straight through, hopefully arriving around 7 or 8AM, before the temperatures shoot back up to triple digits. Once we locate our pens on the barn chart we unload tack and feed and animals, arrange our grooming area and feed and water our road weary lambs. By mid-afternoon the barn will be abuzz with trucks and trailers of all shapes and sizes rolling in and off-loading tack and animals. It finally quiets down in the early evening as the arrival deadline nears.
Wednesday morning we’ll weigh-in and all the animals will be broken up into classes by their weight. It’s always fun to stand in line chatting and catching up with people we haven’t seen since our last weekend show in late April. Because the weather is so hot many of the shows take place in the late afternoon and evening when breezes coming off the Delta cool the barn to a respectable temperature.
By Thursday though it’s no holds bar, a rush of washing and shearing, fine-tuning each animal so they look their best for the judge. Thursday is Market Judging – the day when months of hard work and attention to detail; of early mornings and late evenings; of missed outings with friends all come together. This is the day the Champions are selected! Read the rest of the story »
Fall and winter vegetable gardening is an old practice, dating back to the beginning of our country. Pilgrims, settlers, and colonists all planted “cool weather crops” that could provide them with fresh produce all winter long.
Today, many growing areas are well suited for 12-month gardening. Take the western part of the country along the Pacific coast. Their mild winter climate is ideal for growing a wide range of root and leaf crops almost year-round. Southern states are equally able to grow a substantial number of vegetables to crown their winter tables. With a little protection and creative gardening methods, even northern state can adorn their table fresh vegetables throughout the winter.
The key to a successful winter garden is knowing the average date of the first killing frost in your region (for example late October in the Pacific Northwest). You then plant your winter crops early enough to let them reach their full maturity before that killing frost. Local garden authorities can give you information about the timing of first frosts and the hardiness of various crops for your area. The planting suggestions in this booklet are based on a late October first freeze. If your killing frosts come earlier or later adjust your planting schedule accordingly.
LATE MATURING CROPS - Approximate maturity 90 days. Plant by mid July for fall harvest, later for spring harvest. Read the rest of the story »
Learn how seed companies are clamoring for patents to seed varieties and strains, and in the process trying to control not only the way food is grown, but who can grow it as well.
I always look forward to this time of year. It gives me a chance to reflect upon our great nation, with the liberties and freedoms we enjoy, regardless of budgets and economies and politics and climates. My mind turns to those, known and not known, who have paid the ultimate price to preserve what I enjoy every day.
Our small town celebrates the 4th with a community-wide picnic at the local park. Hundreds of families spread out on blankets eating fried chicken, potato and macaroni salad, watermelon and a festive dessert, while they wait for the military fly by and of course a wonderful fireworks display.
This time of year is a busy one on our suburban homestead. Veggies are picked daily and canning is a weekly occurrence. It’s also a time that we share the bounty of our farm with friends and family. And now I want to share some of our favorites with all of you.
Red Raspberry Crisp
1 quart raspberries
1/3 cup sugar
½ cup butter
2/3 cup flour
2/3 cup brown sugar
1-1/2 cup rolled oats
Blend butter, flour, brown sugar and rolled oats. Spread half over bottom of 9-inch baking pan. Sprinkle raspberries with sugar and spread over oat mixture. Top with remaining oat mixture. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Serves 6.
Serve a warm or at room temperature with homemade whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.
White Peach Cheesecake
Base
3 tablespoons butter
1/3 cup sugar
1 egg
3/4 cup flour
Body
24 ounces cream cheese, softened
3/4 cup sugar
3 tablespoons flour
3 eggs
16 ounces white peaches, peeled, pitted and sliced
1/4 cup Amaretto
Base
Beat butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Blend in egg.
Add flour; mix well. Spread dough onto bottom of 9-inch spring form pan. Bake at 450 degrees F for 10 minutes.
Body
Combine cream cheese, sugar and flour, mixing at medium speed on electric mixer until well blended. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Add peaches and liqueur; mix well.
Pour over crust. Bake at 450 degrees, 10 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 250 degrees F; continue baking 1 hour and 5 minutes. Loosen cake from rim of pan; cool before removing rim of pan. Chill.
Garnish with toasted almond slices and additional peach slices, if desired.
Blueberry Jam
9 cups fresh blueberry puree
6 cups sugar
Wash and remove stems. Discard any bruised or damaged berries. Using an immersion blender, blend berries until smooth. Measure after each batch until you have 9-cups. Pour into large stock pot and add sugar. Bring mixture to a boil and cook for 20-30 minutes. Jam is ready when it is thick, jamlike and sticks slightly to the bottom of the pan.
Pour into hot, scalded half-pint jars, leaving ½-inch headspace, and seal. Process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes. Makes 9 half pints.
Because the blueberries are blended the consistency of the jam will have a fruit butter texture.
photo credit: Rubber Slippers In Italy
There is a cool late afternoon breeze outside our little farmhouse as I type. It’s a welcome change compared to just a few short days ago, when the days were warm and summer seemed to break out into its normal weather patterns. Days are longer too. It’s light enough to work until almost 8:30PM.
After work I took time out to play with the dogs, water the garden, let the chickens out to run around and check the progress of Brianne’s market lambs. This has been an ambitious year for our little homestead. Between the garden, the animals, the shows, job, school…all of it feeling more intense than years past, more intense than I ever imagined when I first started this blog.
I had no idea my life would lead me to a homestead in suburbia, to raising sheep, rabbits, and chickens… Yet here I am, writing you fresh from a short nap on my back lawn. I fell asleep because I stopped moving. I have found this to be a common side effect of what are suppose to be the lazy days of summer.
I love our little farm, but this month has taught me a new kind of tired. I have never been this consistently sore and exhausted in my life. It’s the kind of work that leaves you aching, reeling, and hopeful at the end of every day. It is a lucky place to find yourself. To know you’re alive and healthy enough to take care of others, and make dinner rise out of the ground like Lazarus himself.
We use up every minute of daylight at the end of the day. There is so much to be done – plant, feed, water, tend. We’ve been doing battle with ground squirrels, rabbits and gophers that have wrecked havoc on our garden. Sometimes I feel that with the fairs coming up quickly it may be fruitless to replant. Literally. Fortunately we have a long growing season so there is still time to plant beds of root crops for winter canning. Over a long weekend I can replant squash and beans and maybe even a short harvest pumpkin patch. I do this all for the October that I love dearly.
Brianne’s show sheep are doing well and in just a few short weeks we’ll be off to the state fair. The chicks we hatched in March are getting bigger by the day and we finally identified the young roosters. Their adolescent crowing is a dead give away, a contorted combination of crooning and gagging. They’ll be taken to the feed store and given away. We’ve already made a winter’s batch of blueberry jam and we have a date with friends to make salsa and pickles next week. All is well here on our little homestead, and I know in my heart that all this work is not wasted. You pay it forward in this world, and I’m happy to shell out. Come fall we’ll be eaten like kings in spite of the four-legged varmints that mock our efforts.
Music seeps through the open windows, the dogs roll in the cool grass, there’s still a glint of daylight as I finally put dinner on the table. Fall is not far off, folks. Not far off at all.
SUMMER
July
Ever since I was a little girl I have always enjoyed roses. Over the years and as my tastes have changed I find myself drawn more to the antique rose varieties than anything else. I love their fragrance and the look of them reminds me of quite days lived in country castles. I have dozens of David Austen roses around my place and during July they burst into bloom with an intoxicating perfume that hangs over the whole garden. The garden as a whole keeps use pretty busy during July. The weather is hotter and keeping things moist is a daily challenge. But, it’s also a time of great reward. Seeds and transplants started earlier in the year now bear constantly.
First tomatoes come off around Fourth of July
More direct sown seeds planted
Water daily
Weed and mulch as needed
Spent veggies fed to chickens
Mid-season berries picked, eaten fresh and frozen for winter
Peach harvest continues
Peaches canned and frozen
Beans canned and frozen
Pickled beets canned
Herbs dried
Preparations made and animals groomed for State Fair
Attend and show at State Fair
August
Our family has shown at the county fair for more than 30-years. Now it’s Brianne’s turn. She loves hanging out in the barn visiting with friends while grooming her sheep. I love watching her grow with each passing year. She and her friends are fiercely competitive inside the show ring, but outside they are just a bunch of giggly silly teenagers. It’s so much fun to watch. August is a hard time to be away from the homestead, so much is going on this month. But, I have wonderful neighbors who feed animals and water gardens. Secretly, I think they like when we’re gone because they get paid in free range eggs and fresh produce.
Weeding and watering are our life
Tomatoes harvested daily; frozen for future processing
Other veggies harvested; what can’t be processed is frozen for later time
Onions braided and hung to dry
Fruit trees and berries fed
Turkeys butchered and wrapped for freezer
Preparations made and animals groomed for County Fair
Attend and show at County Fair
Left over fair lambs sold or butchered
Broiler chicks arrive end of month
September
With fairs over and prizes displayed, our mind turns to school. Brianne actually starts school the last week of August, but with our busy schedule we are never prepared. The bulk of the shopping takes place on Labor Day weekend – usually the hottest weekend of the month. The homestead seems quiet this time of year, with most of the animals gone. Only the broiler chickens remain, but they are easy to care for. The garden seems to rebound in September, as late spring and summer plantings come off, fall plantings of onions, garlic and root vegetables take their place. We even get a glimpse of our future squash and pumpkin harvest.
Dried beans harvested, vines given to chickens
Zucchini, patty pan, crookneck and other squash harvested
Zucchini relish canned
Broilers butchered at 4-weeks (Cornish game hen size)
Lay in firewood for a warm winter
Clean trailer and store for winter; bedding used in chicken coop as winter bedding
All livestock equipment cleaned, oiled and stored for winter
Shearing blades sent to be re-sharpened
Show blankets repaired and stored
photo credit: andrewodom
I feel like I have stolen this day. I took off from work, so instead of the usual morning routine I really took my time with farm chores this morning. Nothing grand, just a few extra moments to check over the animals, water the plants on the porch and brew a pot of fresh tea, which I just pulled off the stove burbling and gerking as I pour it into the teapot. Oh, it’s shear decadence for an office farmer to have a day off work.
Moments ago, when I walked outside, the grass was damp from the early morning fog. In spite of its sogginess, the sun was out; the sky was a clear blue and bounced off every tiny droplet. I breathed deep, taking it all in, savoring the taste. It’s hard to feel Zen though when sheep are baaing, hens are cackling, dogs are barking and a lone rabbit is racing around in his hutch. They all want breakfast and they all want it now. You can see how that moment wasn’t quite serene. But, it was to me.
Brianne and I started our morning chores like we always do, in the sheep pen. They are the most eager and can cause the most trouble if not fed promptly, so off she went to fill grain buckets, top off the water trough and throw a few handfuls of hay. I fed and checked on the dogs then moved towards the chicken coop to make sure we hadn’t lost anyone in the night. With the headcount complete I lifted the latch on the gate and let the hens out into the barn. From there they can make their way into the garden and around the yard.
Every day we let the hens out of their coop, and give them a chance to feel the warm sun, scratch in the dirt looking for bugs and peck at the green grass. They’re sneaky beasts though. Clever enough to fly over fences and too curious to stay out of the garden, so I keep them away from the lettuce just to give myself peace of mind.
A load of laundry I washed last night is ready to hang on the line. The sun was barely over the tree tops as I clipped each piece of clothing to the line. Laundry is an oddly calming job, almost therapeutic.
By the time we came inside I felt oddly refreshed from our slow morning of chores.
Our weekend mostly involved transporting sheep (Brianne was involved with a showmanship workshop) and June gardening.
I’ve come to the conclusion that “June gardening” is just a romantic way of saying weeding. I spent hours down on my hands and knees pulling intruders from between the rows. This year’s garden started out to be the most diverse we’ve ever attempted, and we have the weeds to show for it, but we haven’t been without our troubles. And, the only things that seem to be thriving in the garden are the rabbits and squirrels. Our verdant young peach tree that was loaded has now been stripped bare. Not one peach is left. Oh, a few pits clung to the branches, but nothing that’s edible for us. I don’t mind part of my crops going to the wildlife, but when they get greedy that’s another matter entirely.
This is a strange place to be a homesteader. I have never lived or worked with so many people that stand on both sides of the farming fence. Nearly half my neighbors grow their own, while the other half has no use for gardening at all. I’m sometimes a telephone farmer as well. Just yesterday, my neighbor Fran called to talk about the new chicks we had given her and how they were too timid to go inside the coop, so spent the night under the ramp that leads to the coop. Seems like everyone’s working for their supper these days.
As I type things are pretty quiet outside, which is a rare occurrence. Their mouths must be full. From the kitchen door I can see the roosters strut around the yard guarding his girls. I see the sheep frolicking and chasing each other in their fenced yard. I know the rabbit is content and the dogs are napping after their morning meal. And me—the Queen of all this majesty¬—am enjoying a cup of tea smooth enough to calm any savage beast.
Not a bad way to start a stolen day. Not bad at all.
The past few weeks have been crazy busy with end of school finals, stock up trips and of course last months holiday. When life gets like this, and I’m away from my little homestead all I can think about is getting back to the quiet and peace of my oasis. Its times like these that make me realize - I am a homebody. I like the comfort of my homestead. Outside the sun is gleaming, the birds are singing and there’s a soft, cool breeze blowing that makes me want to snuggle up in a hammock with an old quilt, a glass of tea and a good book. Spring wants to linger here a while longer and we welcome her with open arms. Always.
Here on my homestead, in my little farmhouse, laundry hangs on the line. Fresh cut flowers adorn my tables and the scent of home cooked banana bread seasons the air. Autumn is far off and although we love the roaring fires that warm our home and the glint of candles that light up the dark corners of our rooms we are content with the months that allow us to dig in the dirt long into the evening.
Outside my window the sheep laze in the shade and chew their cuds, while the chickens send up clouds of brown dust while bathing in the soft dirt. The dogs, ever vigilant, are on the prowl for rabbits and squirrels that have been damaging the garden. Well fed and content, the animals make me feel even more comfortable. Come dinner time we will be well fed too. Home raised lamb thaws on the counter. Later tonight it will be sizzling on the grill along with fresh zucchini, onions and potatoes. A fine meal to be sure. After evening rounds and a blazing western sunset – I am ready for bed too. It’s because I am a homebody that I am happy to be tucked away in my little walled garden, away from the hectic outside world.
Cool damp fog hung for most of the morning, leaving the homestead looking like some mystical forest in a far-away land. It seemed gloomy. But, the only animal on the farm that seemed to feel it was me. The cool morning seemed to invigorate the livestock. The sheep raced and jumped in their corral. The chickens scurried and clucked as they found tidbits of grain on the barn floor.
I spent the cool morning weeding and planting winter squash and sunflowers to brighten our tables or give as gifts. Sunflowers make me happy. They remind me of fall, my favorite season. The mixture of seeds, black, striped, large and small, lay in a bed of soil rich in our rabbits’ leavings and our chickens’ old meals. In a few weeks they will have pushed through the soil, reaching for the sun and we’ll be on our way to having yellow lion, burgundy and gold in our vases. Sunflowers mean we’re that much closer to fall.
When the fog burned off and the temperature began to rise, making the weeding and planting too much of an effort I came inside to make the salad for tonight’s grilled dinner. The house smelled of honey-maple bacon and fresh cut broccoli when I went out to collect another batch of eggs. Here the work seems never ending (and it is) but it flows through our days as normal and steady as commuting to work or going to school does. It’s a common mean to a common goal.
Not everything is faultless here. I paint a picture of perfection, but only because I ignore the things that make homesteading so hard. I cheat hardship with ignorance. But know my body is always sore and sometimes I feel like I’m the most tired mom in America.
We rise before 6:00 most mornings, and sometimes don’t come inside for dinner till way after dusk (that’s 8:30 this time of year). When we shower at the end of a long day the damage of our life is evident. Brianne is bumped and bruised from working her lambs; there are cuts and scrapes from battles with fencing; blisters from hoeing or turning over another bed; bug bites and bad tan lines. Yah - really bad tan lines. Our homestead, as humble as it is, is a full time job. And it shares its life with people who already have a full time job, whether it be work or school. Its work and it’s hard. I’m not sure we should be envied or that people should live vicariously through us. Just a considerate warning.
BUT, I feel the same way about the dark side of this homestead as I do about learning any new skill. You pick it up for the first time and it sucks. You’re not good, the timing is off or your lines are not straight. Your muscles ache and your fingers throb. You get angry and frustrated. The learning comes slow, slower than you wish. But, at the end, when it’s over, you know there is the possibility of a finished product. You’ve seen it before, and know the appreciation it can render. So you shrug off the pain, forget about the bad things, and keep moving forward. Which, is what we do with every scar and sore arm. Collateral damage.