A Mixed Bag, Baby

I ventured out to feed and water the flock early this morning, the sun rising up, pouring radiance from the heavens down onto the earth’s frosty floor. Another flurry of powdery white blew through our region again last night. Dumped just enough snow to blanket the world around us, keep the kids home from yet another day of school and to keep my Hunk out plowing and salting all night. What a winter we’ve had thus far! Is it too early to day drink?


My chickens hate me and love me so much right now. I imagine they’re so perplexed as to why they haven’t been able to free-range or leave the coop and run for so long now, but there are just too many hungry critters out there that would love a nice plump hen or two to nosh on this afternoon.

Each morning those ladies chirp and chat, dance, fluff and flit about when they see me trudging over to their run. They’ve come to expect my warm treats and array of scraps from yesterday’s kitchen concoctions.

They spot me slogging through the snow and they’re all, “Yay! You’re here! We’ve been waiting for you! We hate you! Thanks for the treats! They’re delicious! You’re such a bitch, please let us out of here!”

(Yes. I speak chicken.)

Suffice to say, it’s a mixed bag of emotions for those girls right now. But I always remind them that warmer days are just a stones throw away.

Speaking of… A toasty warm up is on the horizon! Looks like we’ll be ushering in 60-degree temps and sunshine here at the homestead this weekend. Please Lord, let it be.

We. Cannot. Wait.

I’ve got seeds to put in the ground, a garden to clean up and a giant forehead that needs the warmth of the sun reflecting upon it for at least a couple hours. What I wouldn’t give for the sting of just teensy weensy slight sunburn right now.

I’ve been doing all sorts of experimenting in the kitchen during these cold snaps. Zucchini + Hazelnut dessert breads, einkorn crusted pizza thing-a-majigs, meat + potato pies, sweet potato + kale + coconut soup and this afternoon I’m planning on pickling the last stockpile of our farm fresh eggs. The girls are leaving me about an egg or two per week right now since the first snowstorm blew through earlier this month. It’s actually a good thing to nourish oneself based on the season’s offerings. It not only brings us closer to nature and encourages us to get creative with our menu selections, it also offers up a wonderful opportunity to try new recipes and fare that we aren’t accustomed to eating. I like it and I’ve tried to embrace it. But I also don’t like it and I’ve been bucking the system a bit along the way.

I know. I contradict myself. Get used to it, I have since birth.

At any rate, I try to strike a balance, to move and groove and sway with nature’s pace and local seasonal suggestions, to utilize the food I’ve preserved from the spring and summer harvests. But let’s face it… I love to eat. And I love fruit. And I’m a self-absorbed, entitled, privileged American who knows that there are shelves of mangos and berries, bananas, pineapples and sun gold cherry tomatoes hanging out in abundance right down the road at my local grocery store. So…

My Hunk came stumbling through the door starving and exhausted around midmorning. I always try to have something warm waiting on him when he gets home from you know, roughly 45 hours of prepping and salting and plowing and nonstop work with not even a wink of sleep in between. (CRAZYYY!) So I opened the kitchen early this morning and whipped up a giant vat of comfort food before he got home. Garlic + onion seared chicken breasts slathered in a rich and buttery homemade grass-fed heavy cream sauce with spinach and a dash of spicy Cajun seasoning on top. It’s snooze food. Fattening and comatose-inducing goodness, just what his tired bod and mind needs before crashing into a bed of freshly laundered sheets and then drifting off to nighty night town.

Okay, that makes me want to nap.  So until next time…

Thanks for visiting The Wildwood Homestead. I hope you all have a wonderful end to what I pray was a wonderful week in your neck of the woods.





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