Flies in the buttermilk

Flies in the buttermilk, shoo, shoo, shoo

Flies in the buttermilk, shoo, shoo, shoo

Flies in the buttermilk, shoo, shoo, shoo

Skip to my lou, my darlin'

Yes, this was the song that I was singing as I milked Bernice today. (And mercifully in my head to those around me) Why? Because at that very moment, there was probably a dozen "black fly" (biting gnats) casualties that had zoomed down into the milk bucket after getting sprayed with a beautiful golden stream of milk. They had been happily attached to her udder and underside, but, made the fatal mistake of flying around in search of another tender area, and getting drowned in the process. They are always so thick here this time year, and, it makes me feel fortunate that I can seek refuge in the house, and feel sorry for the animals that cannot. 

A few new "lasagna" raised garden rows were put in place this past week, but, yet again, there were the black flies making the task miserable, so, guess who only has kale transplanted? 

Much of my tomato plants were sunburned because I never took the time to bring them back into the chicken coop while hardening off. (Oh, that's supposed to be a GRADUAL process?) The zinnias and cosmos are done for after a frost, and I am standing around scratching my head as to what to do now. Who can have a cottage garden without, well, a garden?

I have been consoling myself with the idea that whatever plants DO survive after my harsh treatment will be extra-hardy (Yooper-Tough!).

The sheep and Bernice are finally in their newly-fenced pasture, and, it is a relief to not see them mope around looking at the grass and try to wiggle through to the other side. Not only does our rotational grazing system keep parasites at a minimum, and improve the grass and soil from the mob-style grazing ("Hello," happy soil!), it also allows our livestock fresh and interesting fauna regularly, which makes for delicious meat! We are all happy.

Not only is some delicious, grass-fed meat being "made," but also some flavorful baked goods! Last week was the first Famers' Market in Manistique. What a nerve-wracking ordeal that was. I didn't know what or how much of anything to bring the first time, I combed through the ingredients for my labels (fortunately our baked goods are made with REAL ingredients, so I literally had four things listed for the artisan bread), and my kitchen looked like a bag of flour exploded by the time I was [late] walking out the door. My pie boxes and cookie bags were still on a FedEx truck headed Nowhere, and I didn't get half of what I wanted done. I was not organized or prepared, to say the least, and, it was cold and windy in town. I clammed up when I met my fellow vendors, and didn't know what to say to the lady that the market master put me next to, who just so happens to sell baked goods. By the time the bell rang I was already in a fowl, and ungrateful mood, and I just didn't know how I would possibly be able to turn my sweet, informed, marketing demeanor meter to "On." I just wanted to scream passionately at the top of my lungs, "Alright everybody, line up! Come buy my pies! Buy my cake! Don't balk at the price or bat an eye, it'll be the best, most real confection you've placed in your mouth in a long time." I'd list all of the heartfelt and honest reasons why Pell's Pie Patch & Family Farm is unique and on the road to success with the Lord's hand at the wheel, and then we would all hold hands and discuss Bernice and cow shares and roast lamb. We would pack up our things and head back to the farm and it would be a community event of cleaning the kitchen. Ah, yes, if only it was that easy. 

But it's not, and that's okay. 

It's nice to have to make a genuine effort to get to know my customers. To explain patiently why we charge what we do or why we drink raw milk. How rotatilling and MiracleGro isn't so great for the soil, and which watermelons grow best in the North. Do I have sourdough? Proper hardening off procedures, and putting back food or prepping for our families and the unknown times ahead. 

The breads sold, the pie slices sold, and by the grace of God I was able to get out of my funk and be real. The braided and artisan bread was beautiful and delicious, and Mr. Pell got a thumbs up from the gentleman that didn't wait to eat his pie at home and was scarfing it down in the parking lot. We're preparing for this week's market, and looking forward to hearing feedback and seeing familiar faces. 

We have so much going on at the farm right now, or should be going on (time and no money, or money and no time). It's hard to pace ourselves when we have so much to look forward to, but, it pays off in the end when our food has flavor, our farm has customers, and our lives have more experience and love.