It Better Be Butter

Now that we have switched to raw milk, a whole new world has opened up for us - led, of course, by the ever questing Dan. It was he who noticed that Yael and I (and by extension, the kids), were skimming off a lot of the cream for a less robust milk. For those of you who asked, and I was amazed at how many there were, Yes! I am still drinking only raw milk, and No, I have had no side affects whatsoever. But I can't accustom myself to all that cream. So I take a lot of it out and so does Yael.

Dan, who gets up in the wee hours to head to the dairy to get the milk as it emerges from the cow and drives 45+ minutes each way to do it, was a tad upset. Then, naturally, he settled into finding a solution that would work for all of us. He drinks a ton of the stuff, replete with cream, and is still losing weight. Go figure.

Anyway, he researched butter. Yes, that is a picture of butter that he made from our rejected cream. He gave me a the ramiken full that you see and hauled the vast majority back to the family in Auckland.

It astonishes me at how far down the road to self-sufficiency we've travelled and how far we still have to go. If, indeed, we decide to do so. The milk is great and I promise I will keep you updated on any health improvements I might have.

By the way, does anybody know of an old fashioned wood milk churn I could buy - cheap? Dan spent hours at the electric blender and I figure if we are going for self-sufficiency, we should try to eliminate electricity. Right? I'd volunteer to churn but this darned shoulder of me acts up and I'll just have to pass on this one.

Reaping the Harvest

The picture above is my dinner, picked just 15 minutes before cooking. I will add a hamburger made from our steers and have a completely farm-fresh meal. Pretty impressive, hunh? I’m impressed. I’m impressed that anything grew to maturity in the market garden since we are inundated with snails, insects, rats, possums, birds, etc.

All in all, things are going pretty well. I have scattered pictures of my roses here to show that they survived the possum onslaught. I am leery of saying that I’ve cured the problem, but so far netting the bushes at night has kept the possums away. And moving them closer to buildings appears to have deterred the birds.

 

We are still trying to figure out the water leaks but have been very fortunate that we have gotten some rain. Enough, anyway, that I haven’t had to water the vegetables too often. The plants in pots are a different story. The sun is so intense that they need watering at least every other day.

I have been fairly nonchalant about the sun. At least I was until Sunday. Alessia had spotted a sheep acting sickly and when I watched I saw some signs of fly strike so Dan and I herded the flock to the quarantine paddock and I stood around keeping sheep from escaping while Dan checked each one. Luckily there didn’t seem to be any fly strike but my exposure to the sun was too much. I was wearing my hat and sun block but got a bit of a sunburn on my arms. Aloe took care of the burning but I will be more alert in the future.

 

The chickens continue to under produce and over eat. We are going to buy 3 more in a few weeks and the timing is perfect. Next week it is time to clean out the layer of wood shavings and I plan to do a complete housecleaning then. Those chickens are poor tenants. You wouldn’t believe how they trash the place.

I am not sure where the shavings will go; the market garden compost heap makes the most sense. When I first read about leaving the shavings for 6 months, I was sure they were crazy. It would smell to high heaven. But it doesn’t. In fact it doesn’t smell at all. I rake it around the coop every morning and things stay pretty static all day since the hens prefer being out and around. When I let them out in the morning, the shavings are in a totally new configuration and the raking begins again.

Right now all the steers and sheep are gathered in paddock #1. They like each other’s company. I often see one of the lambs grazing peacefully within inches of one of our massive steers. And they are massive. I can’t believe how big they’ve gotten and how quickly. They are the sumo wrestlers of our mountain. All other steers pale in comparison. And they make great hamburgers!