winter babies

Good things about being pregnant in the winter: 

(1) You have no desire to be outside in the cold, so hunkering down is not a problem.

 

(2) A few extra pounds help keep you warm. No need for sweaters!

(3) When your husband brings you donuts, I mean, you HAVE to eat one because he went out in the snow to get them for crying outloud! It's basically your wifely duty. 

On the flip side, it also means that: 

(1) You act on your ultimate language: eating carbs. Maybe a little too much. 

Ahem. 

(2) It gets dark out early . . . because it's winter. And when baby needs to get up to eat every couple of hours, the night seems awfully long.

(3) You have no desire to leave the house. Who needs milk or fruit anyway? 

On the other hand (does this mean we're back to the first side of the hand? I'm confused.): 

(1) Babies are little heaters. And it doesn't matter how awesome Walmart or Amazon are. They don't sell snuggly, sweet-smelling little heat generators. 

(2) Heating up the kitchen by baking bread is virtually a necessity. A happy mama -- because who doesn't perk up when there's warm, fresh bread on the counter? -- means a happy baby. Get that flour and yeast out!

(3) Spring is on its way. And just when baby is starting to notice what's going on in the world, you can head outside for long walks, fresh air and sunshine!

At least, that's what we're telling ourselves. 

Bake the bread. Get out the jam. Tickle the baby. Don't fret too much if you pack on an extra carb or two. 

Winter won't last forever . . . and neither will those baby snuggles!

Easy Artisan Bread 

3 cups warm water

1 T. instant yeast

2 1/2 tsp. salt

3 1/2 c. whole wheat flour

3 c. flour

Mix yeast and salt. Add water. 

Add flour and mix well. 

Cover with a towel or plastic wrap and let sit someplace warm (or at least room temperature) for 1 1/2 hours. 

Store in the refrigerator for a week or bake immediately. 

If baking, head enamel dutch oven and lid in oven at 450 degrees. 

Lightly dust dough with flour. Cut off amount of dough you desire to bake and shape into a ball. Place on parchment paper-covered cookie sheet and let sit for 30 minutes. 

Cut the top of the dough with serrated knife and transfer dough to dutch oven, including parchment paper. 

Bake for 15-17 minutes covered. 

Remove lid and bake for another 15-17 minutes until loaf is golden brown. 

day 16 of farmacology: life by the seasons

One of the things you may not know about farm folks is that

we are all about the seasons. 

Farmers' lives revolve around the seasons. Spring. Planting. Fall. Harvesting. Winter. Snow Removal. Summer. Sweat. 

Nobody knows the weather -- and thus the seasons -- better than a farmer. 

Except maybe the farmer's wife, who keeps just as close an eye on the weather radar to know when to deliver lunch or when rain might keep him home for an afternoon or two. 

So while some people might say that these two pictures were taken two years apart, one in 2013 and one in 2015, we'd say they were taken three corn silages, 1800 calves, one oat silage, three new dogs, one big mustache, two rye silages and a rooster later. 

And either way, we'd all be right. 

Want to read more of my 31 day farmacology writing challenge? Click here. 

day 5 of farmacology: through rain, sleet, snow and hail

One of the things you may not know about farm folks is that

we deal with the elements. 

Mud, snow, dust .  .  . 

It hasn't rained in days. Certainly not in weeks. Maybe in a month. That means that every time someone drives past our house, or our dogs run down the road, or the wind blows, it's like the Dust Bowl around here. 

The trees are coated in a layer of dust. The grass looks almost silver. It's not the lush green of summer or the fading brown of fall. It's the blegh of grit, and it's coating everything. That whole washing your windows outside thing? Not happening. At least, not for a while. 

When I lived in St. Louis, I got used to walking on nice, clean cement sidewalks. I didn't have to wade through snow in high heels or mud in tennis shoes. I could step around puddles and really had no need for rubber boots, except for the days when it rained and I just wanted cute footwear. 

Here on the farm, though, rain makes mud. Snow makes dirty slush. And when those aren't present, there's a lot of dust.  

But regardless of the weather, the chores still need to get done. The crops still have to be brought in, and the cows still need to be fed. You still have to go get groceries, even if the gravel road has turned to mud, or get yourself to church without getting your shoes covered in gunk.

Your farmer, who is intensely cognizant of the weather and its effect on his ability to even get his job done, may come home covered in mud in the middle of the spring. 

Or he may come home wet and soggy every day for a week in the midst of a snowy winter. 

Or he may come home so covered in dust that his boots turn white. 

Or he may change clothes at lunch because the rain has soaked through every layer he has on.

And let's not even attempt to discuss what your dogs' coats look like in the midst of all this.

But as annoying as it can sometimes be -- for all the times we look to the skies and say, "I sure wish there were rain in the forecast!" or thirty seconds later, "If it doesn't stop raining, I'm going to go nuts!" -- we're also keenly aware of the seasons. 

When it rains, we're muddy. When it's dry, we're dusty. When it's snowy, we're wet. 

And we deal. The work gets done. The animals are taken care of. The land eventually dries out or soaks up the water. 

We're farmers, after all. It's just what we do. 

{Now the laundry, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter. But that's for another day.}

Want to read more of my 31 day farmacology writing challenge? Click here.