That’s the thing – you miss the moment to blog about one thing then when the next one comes up you think ‘ah, I need to write about x first so y makes sense’, then z comes along and it’s all a bit of a chore. Well, it is when you only have access to the PC from 11pm to 6.30am, and your traditional 3am wake-up is occupied by poking logs into a stove trying to stop the pipes from freezing.
Anyways, I’ve been adding points to this post in my head for days and now the little ones have all popped out I have a chance to blat it on.
Trouble is I can’t remember most of it. Tell you what, I’ll make a start, in no particular order, and add to it each time I remember.
Things I should have blogged about;
The weasel. I haven’t seen it but it’s tracks are as clear as day, very distinct, and leading directly to our chicken house. Now weasels are voracious predators of… anything up to 100x their bodyweight really. They go straight for jugular, no messing about, but don’t actually eat their prey – they suck it dry of blood. Then they’ll move on to the next one, and the next one. Or more likely they’ll take as many as they can in as short a period as possible then line them all up for a bit of gorging. In either case you can’t mess about. A neighbour dropped off a couple of traps, I got onto youtube to see how it’s done and am now building a weasel box, wondering if I’ll get enough fur to line my wellies.
Peak oil on Kingsville Farm. Yes, we cracked. It wasn’t pretty. Anyone that knows me knows that I don’t give up an argument gracefully and I’m surprised Laura didn’t resolve the issue with a large blunt object and the back of my skull. Still, what transpired was another $200 worth of oil in the tank and heat for exactly 13 and a half days. Then when it ran out we decided there is only about 6 weeks of winter left and we can probably bear the cold until then…
Evans relinquishing of The Dummy. It happened when he woke up one morning without it and didn’t seem to miss it for the rest of the day. That night he went to bed and straight to sleep, as he did the next night and the one after that. Now I believe it is ancient history, and his speaking is coming on in leaps and bounds. So are his tantrums but that’s got to be expected really.
The day I shovelled more snow than ever before, then the snowplow came and buried my shovel. Seriously the snowbank was taller than me. I had to dig my snow shovel out with a spade.
Toboganning with friends and our first potluck dinner. Our social circle revolves around good food. Playdates don’t involve instant coffee and some hobnobs, oh no, everyone brings a pot or tub of something gorgeous and homemade – soup, chilli, baked beans, crackers, cookies and of course most excellent coffee (two of our friends are baristas!) Our very first potluck was amazing – lobster pot pie (caught by the chef), pork empanadas (chefs own pig), roasted red pepper soup, mexican rolls, homemade rolls (ours!), individual apple and strawberry crumbles (chefs own strawberrys)…and more that I’ve forgotten. Oh yes, and finished off with a baileys coffee, which seems to be becoming something of a tradition!?
The 3am catching of an egg-eater, and a liberal sense of shared culpability making me not being able to kill it.
The thawing of our pipes! They froze during the day when we went to our friends potluck and were thawed when we went to our next one two weeks later! Not by the magic of beans and pork however – our neighbours son came round with some sort of contraption and blew steam down the source side, which cleared the frozen bit and got us flowing again – thanks Sandy! Since then we’ve had the kitchen tap trickling constantly in an effort to avert another freezing incident.
The snowshoe gathering at our farm. Our little house was full. 8 big people and 9 little people drank tea or juice then donned snowsuits before jumping into snowshoes or sleighs and heading down the fields to the brook. The 4 littlest fell asleep in their sleighs, a common occurrence. It was beautiful, or so I’m told… I was off breaking my back under a thirty year old wood furnace in St Peters.
Humping a great big wood furnace down my path then down my stairs. It’s not just a wood furnace – it’s an Olsen Duomatic, which can burn wood at one end and oil at the other, for when you jet off to Florida and need to keep the house above zero. I’ve been trying to find a method of making heating oil like you make biodiesel, but so far details are scant. The most I’ve seen you can mix it is 10%, but is that just what the manufacturers say is safe? Are there peopkle out there running their house on 100% converted chip fat? If so please get in touch and tell me how you’ve done it…
What’s been happening in the middle east, and in particular my old home of Bahrain.
The arrival of the ducks. Two of them, both Rouen, a drake and his girl. They make an entertaining ‘we-ack we-ack’ sound and waddle away from you as fast as they can, but are curious that after you’ve been working in the coop or the basement for a few minutes you’ll see a little ducky head peering round the door. As soon as it’s clocked though there’s a ‘we-ack weack wack!’ and off they run.
The day the mercury broke back through to the positive side, and why it’s a false dawn. In short it’s the pack ice – the Febvruary Thaw sends it drifting down the Labrador current, it lodges around the Bay of St Lawrence and a mighty battle between warm and cold fronts ensues, with the resulting 80mph winds battering us throughout March. Great, can’t wait.
Discovering my family on facebook, and re-kindling the itch to find out more about my far too murky scandinavian heritage.
The death of the plymouth and the finding of a $100 Accent, then getting it stuck in a ditch on only it’s second outing.
Finding foxtracks when I was searching for a weasel.
Why we need a lobster trap.