Saturday, 18 February 2012

Yesterday I was out in the Balsam woods gathering boughs for the goats. I paused to enjoy the stillness of the woods. It was so deeply beautiful. The silence is astounding. I am nearly always filled with such a deep peace when I'm there. Realistically, I should be a bit nervous, with Bobcats, Lynx, Bear, Moose and Coyotes around. I always take one of the dogs with me for this reason.

Brigida, the Maremma sheepdog is a magnificent animal. I feel no fear when she is with me. Although not so good when people come around the farm, she is incredible at keeping predatory animals away. She is a wonderful companion on these walks. Picking up the scent of something, she will at times wander away from me, but usually, she is never very far, nosing along, bounding over to me with a whistle. Living where and how we do, I am so grateful for her.

The snow is falling heavily today. There has been no sun for a couple of days, so my raised bed in the greenhouse is still frozen hard. I've spread plastic on it to try and warm the soil, but we need the sun for that. Today is a good day for a hot soup simmered on the woodstove. To curl up inside and read, and choose more seeds while enjoying a hot cup of tea.

Living in Cape Breton has at times been an enormous struggle. It can be a hard place. However, I've heard that once it gets in to you it gives back so much. I think I'm finally reaching that point where it is really getting into me. Coming home with the boughs yesterday, I paused on the hill to savour the sky. The most magnificent blue hung just above the horizon, deep, rich almost unearthly. It's light illuminated the edges of the trees and the mountains accentuating the line and form. It looked like a painting, almost surreal. I gazed, mesmorized, and then a few minutes later it was gone. Flat grey blue had returned. Briefly though, I witnessed some of the magic that finds you here and reaches into your heart.

Friday, 17 February 2012

Little Holly is doing much better, but it was a rough couple of weeks for her. Things began to turn when one sunny day, I brought her out of the stall to warm in the sunshine. Our Maremma sheepdog, Brigida would not stay away, although I kept trying to push her back. Finally, I just relaxed and let her come over. She immediately began to sniff and lick a recent wound on Holly's horn bud (given to her by another goat). From there, Brigida did not stop until she had licked Holly all over, and nuzzled her. When Holly tried to move away, Brigida grabbed her tail with her mouth and pulled her back. Though rather daunted by this "mothering", it seems it was exactly what Holly needed.

We had another such session later in the day, and since then, Holly has been far more confident and lively. Yeah for Brigida!

I'm experimenting with cold frames in the greenhouse, and plastic on the ground, to see just how early
 I can get planting in there. This is our first year with the greenhouse, and I'm truly hopeful that it will significantly extend our season. In the past, we have had frost in the first week in July, and again in the first week in September. That leaves 6-7 weeks for growing anything that requires warmth. I'm learning about four season gardening, and am very excited to try some of the techniques.

The food from the local stores is appalling and far too expensive. I am determined to grow whatever I can on our farm. It is as much about quality as price. We have raised our own meat and chicken for the past few years. By chance we had a store bought trurkey in the freezer that I cooked up recently. we could not believe how inferior it tasted to our own. We could barely eat it. It was dry and bland and tough. It really highlighted for us how vastly superiour our own food is.

Thursday, 9 February 2012

This morning was  frosty and cold, ethereal with that stunning blue light of winter. The full moon hung low on the horizon preparing to set, as I headed to the barn to check on the cold critters. More frozen water buckets necessitated numerous trips to the house for warm water. Holly seems to be doing much better in terms of spunkiness, but is still being pushed around a lot.

Our kitchen downspout is frozen again, and the two wood stoves are slow to warm the cold air in this old farmhouse, but it's getting better. The floors are freezing!

Life on a farm is typically not as dramatic in winter. Sure, unexpected things do happen, but for the most part it is routine care and maintenance, especially when there are animals. There is more time for observation and thought. Living fairly simply here, without the benefits of electricity in the barn and heated water buckets, I have a profound appreciation for the old timers who depended totally on their farms for survival. The hardships they must have endured on a regular basis, really highlight how soft life is for most of us today.

Sometimes when everything is quiet, I think of  those who've been here before. It's like their spirits are here, silently observing. When so much activity has happened in a place, surely something remains of those people. Some memory, some energy. Something.

This farm was a hub of activity in its day. There were four mills here, with our house being the residence for the miller and his family. The loft above the kitchen housed the workers. The local Post Office was in our kitchen, as was a branch of the credit Union. At one point there were about 800 acres farmed here. Now it has been parceled off until just 43 acres belong with this house. Several decades of neglect have reverted the soil back to barren clay and rock, with just a thin layer of topsoil. We need to begin again, building the soil. The animals come in handy for that with piles of manure and old bedding. 

The house is situated at a crossroads. At one time, it was the centre of a busy, thriving community. Now the roads are mainly quiet, and very few families live out here. We are 16 km. from town, 10 of those are dirt road. Bumpy and pot holed, or icy and snow covered. Rarely good.

Wednesday, 8 February 2012

Today the sun is shining to break the rather relentless grey. Yeah! It's cold, and our newly aquired goat kid, Holly, is struggling to adjust to her new life here. She is only 8 weeks old and is finding it cold in the barn. The other goats are not accepting her yet. Goats can be so mean! They butt their heads into her and won't let her snuggle up with them. She is one of the sweetest little creatures I've known though, with her long floppy, Nubian ears and lovely soft nose. She nuzzles up and when you hold her, she snuggles right up against you.

I'm growing micro greens in the window to ward off the yearnings for fresh produce that comes with the winter months. This year we have a newly erected hoop house, and although I've got a cold frame inside it, the ground is still freezing. I've optimistically tried planting a few hardy seeds in there twice already, but it just keeps freezing up.

It has been such a strange winter so far. Very mild, then we get a snowfall but it melts the next day. February is the first time we've had any snow and cold that have lasted. I'm worried about my plants, in January the lilacs and blueberries were starting to bud out! Now it is cold again. I'm hoping they can adjust.