"How do you solve a problem like Maria?"

"Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her
Many a thing she ought to understand
But how do you make her stay
And listen to all you say
How do you keep a wave upon the sand
Oh, how do you solve a problem like . . .BUTTER?!?

Yesterday morning during chores, I put the breeding group in their lot, Braveheart in his, and went back to lead Butter and Browning to theirs. There Butter was, standing in the main fold, with Browning still in their shared pen! Since there is no gate between the lamb pen and the main fold (I have to lead them through Braveheart's area and down the feeding aisle), the only way she could have gotten there was to jump the 4' chain link kennel panel that separates their pen from the main fold. It immediately occurred to me that if she could do it once, she could do it again when the breeding group - including Franjean - was IN the fold. She is not in the breeding group now by intent (even though I think the cross with Franjean could produce magic); I don't need that many lambs next spring and I don't think babies should have babies! I don't think she did it because she's in heat; I figured she just wanted to follow the other girls out to pasture and get away from Browning, who is still beating up on her. But IF she should take matters into her pretty little hooves and end up getting bred by Franjean, well, I'd still love her and accept any resulting lambs. :-)

This morning as I headed to the barn, I heard banging in the usually quiet sheep quarters. Hurrying there first, I saw Butter in with BRAVEHEART, both of them racing in circles, one the pursuer, one the pursued! Worried more about an unplanned breeding than the behavior of a frustrated ram, I dashed in, opened the gate, and shoved Butter back in with Browning. If there is going to be an unplanned pregnancy, I would prefer the father to be Franjean; Braveheart will get many opportunities in coming years!

By the time I got back from putting the breeding group in their lot, Butter was in with Braveheart AGAIN. As frightened as she seemed to be by his amorous pursuit both times, I can't imagine why she did it TWICE, but I'm going to have to figure out some way to keep it from happening again. If I don't, I might as well put her in Franjean's breeding group. She will, after all, be a year old in February. The idea IS tempting. But if she lambs in five months, I would have to have any offspring DNA-tested to see who the sire is - unless a gulmoget pops out. Oh dear, what to do with this little beauty?
That's it for now from . . .

A most eggcellent dish!

The apple kugen turned out superb. (I had more than one serving just to make sure. The sacrifices I make for you people.) I found this recipe for apricot kugen online, and modified it a bit. I can see making this with various seasonal fruits, and serving it for breakfast OR dessert! A little heavy cream, whipped cream or ice cream would go well with it, for those so inclined. (Me, I'm more of a purist.)

Apple Kugen:
2 cups sugar, divided
1/2 butter, softened
10 medium eggs, divided
1 1/2 c. whole wheat pastry flour
10 small apples, peeled, cored and cut into thick slices
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 1/2 cups non-fat plain yogurt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Cream butter with 1/2 cup sugar. Add four eggs, beating well after adding each one. Stir in flour until mixed well; spread batter into a 9"x13" baking pan.

Mix apple slices with 1/2 cup sugar, cinnamon and lemon juice. Arrange on batter.

Mix 1 cup sugar with cornstarch. Beat in yogurt, vanilla and four eggs; pour over fruit. Bake at 350 degrees until cake around fruit in center of pan is firm to touch; about 1 hour, 20 minutes. Cool at least 30 minutes before serving; serve warm or cool.

I have yet to start applesauce, although Rick and Brian did get the rest of the apples picked. At least the deer won't be eating them! I'll have to keep an eye on Jackson, though; he's quite the produce pilferer."Who, me?"

My favorite Japanese maple's inner flame glows hotter by the day. I keep snapping photos, knowing time, wind and rain will snuff it out soon enough. This was taken this afternoon.
That's it for now at . . .

NaKniSweWe?

Observation: When you knit for children with bulky yarn, you can feel like a real speed demon even when you're not! (I'm not.)

Last night I stayed up late (early) and finished the back of Brian's cardigan. Woot! Of course, my guys come back this morning so that ends my "full steam ahead and don't spare the horses" (to mix my metaphors) pace. But Rick is flying out Thursday for a conference so it IS conceivable that I could finish this project before he returns the following Monday. Then I could get started on the other gift sweater on my list....

Today, however, must be dedicated to a different domestic pursuit - canning applesauce. We go through a fair amount of the stuff, especially on peanut butter toast, pancakes and waffles. We don't spray our trees, so some years making applesauce is more laborious than others, but the bugs aren't bad at all this year. This morning I picked all I could reach; when Rick gets home, he and Brian can get the rest with a ladder.

I should also make an apple kugen, or else by the end of today I'll have at least four dozen eggs in the frig. I was keeping up with them there for awhile; I don't know what happened. Anyway, I'll have to look for a recipe that resembles what we used to make when I worked for a bakery in college.

That's it for now from . . .

Respite

My guys are gone to our church's men's retreat, and I am thoroughly enjoying my rare time alone. I've basked in the silence and listened to music of my own choosing (Sara Graves; thanks, Sis!). I've eaten entirely too much homemade bread with chevre basil spread and drunk entirely too much home-canned grape juice. I've ridden Russell through autumn woods and past changing orchards and vineyards, my soul feasting on beauty. I've schmoozed with my sheep. I've taken a happy hound on a brisk, two-mile walk at dusk. And yes, I've cast on Brian's grey-striped red cardigan for NaKniSweMo!


That's it for now from . . .