Fleur-de-Discombobulate

There are just some words you can’t help but love. “Discombobulate” is one of them. I think this is probably the first time I’ve ever typed it, but I remember my Mother using it often when I was growing up. Dis – com – BOB – u – late seemed to spring from her mouth, giving me a serious case of the giggles.

Right now, it seems a fitting way to describe my life. Confusing to the hysterical, ya-just-gotta-laugh, extreme.

As fall eases in and the temperatures drop, my appetite jumps into “freshman 15” gear, due, in no small part, from growing up in a college town where “new year” is synonymous with “new school year”. Yes, you can’t grow up in State College-Happy Valley without the fall blitz of football, tailgating, and pizza. My husband Paul refined the college town pizza fetish to regular Friday night homemade pizza family feasts in Coplay and then in Kutztown. The kids and I were spoiled.

In my first fall as an empty nester of one, a maddening craving for pizza came over me. I could taste the tomato sauce, the oven-sweetened onions, the greasy pepperoni, the stringy mozzarella cheese. I had all of the toppings so I dashed to Weis and bought a plastic envelope containing two “gourmet” mama-something pizza crusts. No sweat. Brush olive oil on the crust, top, and pop in the oven. When I pulled the pizza out of the oven, I knew I was in for disappointment. My nose is my guide to all things edible … and the fresh-baked fragrance just wasn’t there. I took out the pizza shears, one of my all-time favorite kitchen gadgets, and cut a wedge. With the first bite I knew I would have been better off using the cardboard box from a local pizza joint to arrange my beloved toppings on. I ate some, and gave the crust (we call them pizza bones) to Magoo.

It was so bad that I knew enough not to waste toppings on the second crust. But I also didn’t want the unbaked pizza crust cluttering up the frig. So, I figured I had two choices: bake the plain shell for the chickens or for Magoo, the Frisbee dog.

I chose the former. The girls love bread of any kind. It was a good choice.

Magoo, the Frisbee dog, turned 2 this month, about the time Bouviers “grow up”. He’s been housebroken for some time but has a little too much enthusiasm for greeting people. “No Jump!” is his middle name. But, he is a smart dog and does sit nicely when commanded in French:  “Assieds“, a lesson he learned last Christmas break when Marina was home. In time for his second birthday he learned to return the Frisbee to me after fetching it, and, just this week, he caught a toss in mid-air. The only problem is Frisbees don’t last long with his sharp teeth – a week at the most. Aunt France, the ultimate pet spoiler, brought him a bright blue Frisbee earlier this month when she came to plant garlic, and within hours it looked like a sieve – I bet you could grate mozzarella on one side!

The second pizza shell was a candidate for a Frisbee ... but the morning after my first solo pizza-making experience I was glad it wasn’t my choice. Magoo barfed up the pizza bones.

By then I was quite desperate for a good pizza dough recipe. I emailed my nephew Wille, a Culinary Nutrition student at Johnson & Wales. He sent back his recipe within two hours. I scanned it quickly. 12 quarts of bread flour?  1½ cups of salt? I skimmed further. “This recipe probably makes about 48 pizzas … sorry I can’t break it down for ya, midterms this week!”

Well, I wasn’t about to break it down either. Life was too discombobulated. I went out of town for a two-day conference, then spent the weekend with my Mom and Richard. This week, I’ve been playing catch-up: digging sweet potatoes, planting garlic, tinkering with the pellet stove, toting bags to Goodwill, sleeping in four-hour blocks (divorce insomnia), writing cover letters, scouting references, filling out FAFSA forms, getting vehicles inspected, and other errands. As I sat in a waiting room, flipping through a magazine that was probably circa 2004 or so, I found Bianco’s Pizza Dough. And guess what, Wille, it makes four 12-inch pizzas.

Bianco’s Pizza Dough

2¼ teaspoons active dry yeast (one ¼-ounce envelope)

2 cups warm water (105° to 115°)

5 to 5½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting  (I substituted about 2 cups duram semolina flour for 2 cups of the all-purpose flour.)

2 teaspoons fine sea salt

Extra-virgin olive oil for bowl

Assorted pizza toppings

1. Dissolve yeast in warm water in a large bowl and let stand for 5 minutes. Stir in 3 cups flour and salt, stirring until smooth. Stir in additional 2 cups flour; continue adding flour (up to ½ cup), 1 tablespoon at a time, stirring until dough comes away from bowl but is still sticky.

2. Turn dough onto lightly floured work surface, and knead with lightly floured hands. Start by slapping dough onto counter, pulling it toward you with one hand and pushing it away with the other. Fold dough back over itself. Repeat until it is easier to handle, about 10 times. Finish kneading until dough is smooth, elastic, and soft, about 10 minutes.

3. Shape dough into ball and transfer to lightly oiled bowl; turn to coat. Cover with plastic, and let rise in warm place until it doubles in volume, 3 hours.

4. Preheat oven to 500°. Make sure bottom oven rack is as low as it can go.

5.Remove dough from bowl and place on floured surface, cutting into 4 pieces. Shape into balls, dust with flour and cover with plastic. Let rest 20-30 minutes, allowing dough to almost double.

6. Holding the top edge of 1 dough ball in both hands, let bottom edge stretch down, carefully moving hands around edges to form a circle, as if turning a wheel. Place on lightly oiled pan. (Refrigerate other dough balls wrapped in plastic.)

7. Arrange toppings.

8. Heat oven to broil and place pizza on bottom rack. Broil about 3 minutes until bubbles begin to form on crust. Reduce temperature to 500° and bake until crust is crisp and golden brown, about 6-8 minutes more.

I simplified the directions (the original called for a pizza stone) and pulled my first made-from-scratch pizza out of the oven and slid it onto a cooling rack. It wasn’t the most beautiful pie that’s ever graced our kitchen, but it smelled perfect. I let it cool for a few minutes and reached for the pizza shears. They were nowhere to be found. Discombobulated once again. Laurie Lynch

This week at Fleur-de-Lys: eggs, garlic, shallots, red, white, and blue potatoes, chard, kale, sweet potatoes, peppers, tomatoes, and honey. A fresh crop of luffas is sunning in the hoop house.

Thank You: To Pat for helping me figure out the technological intricacies of blogdom. As the days progress, I hope to import past issues into the blog archive, and, if possible, create some sort of recipe key.

Written on Slate: “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore …”

Fleur-de-TGIR

 

Thank goodness it’s RAINING! That’s how I started the week out. Gosh, we needed this. It was so dry that my plastic rain gauge was screaming, “Water me! Water me!”  (Let me go on record to say I am careful what I wish for … today’s Morning Call headline forecasting 6 inches of rain in the next two days is none of my doing!)

But last weekend as I was working in the cooling shade of our conifers and Kentucky coffee trees, I also learned a hard lesson on the impact of sun and garlic growing. Yes, when you think of garlic you think of the sun-drenched fields of Italy, so the equation Big Sun = Big Garlic is a no-brainer.

I guess what I didn’t realized is how much the trees have grown to shade our original garlic field of a dozen years ago. The bulk of our 2009-10 garlic harvest was pitifully small, except for a plot of late-planted heirloom varieties that grew in our sun-baked kitchen garden, next to the house. Those bulbs are monsters!

So, I spent last weekend sorting varieties for planting Columbus Day weekend. It’s a family ritual that moved with us from our backyard garden in Coplay to our farm in Maxatawny Township, and I’m not ready to give it up. Who knows where I’ll be in nine months when it is ready for harvest, but I’ll face that challenge then.

This weekend we’ll be pulling the “old” tomato plants at the top of the main field and rototilling to prepare the soil in the sunniest part of the field for a dozen vintage varieties of garlic: Music, German White, Maxatawny, Spanish Roja, Lorz Italian, Siberian, Asian Tempest, Porcelain, Metechi, Persian Star, Georgian Fire, and Chet’s Italian Red.

For the rest of you garlic lovers who like to grow your own, we are selling bags of Music and German White for planting. Laurie Lynch

Rainy September days are great for roasting peppers in the oven (and eating them too!)

Roasted Red or Yellow Peppers

1. Cut peppers in half using a sharp knife, cut out stem, inner membrane and seeds.

2. Place halves down on waxed paper and brush with olive oil. Then flip peppers and brush oil on the other side.

3. Put peppers on baking sheet (I spray mine lightly with Pam to prevent sticking, just in case) and place on oven rack in the middle position at 450° . Roast for 30 to 40 minutes, flipping peppers occasionally until skin is partially charred and blackened.

4. Remove baking sheet from oven and transfer pepper halves into a bowl and cover with plastic wrap for about 10 minutes. The charred skin will loosen as the peppers cool.

5. With a paring knife, remove charred skins and place peppers in airtight container in the refrigerator for up to a week.

6. Roasted peppers are so sweet they don’t last long. But, just in case, I have a question: Has anyone tried freezing roasted peppers with any success?

Out of Our Shell: I grew Italian Rose shelling beans for my friend Joanne’s Italian co-worker. He loves the fresh/dried beans for soups and was like a kid at Christmas when I harvested the cranberry-marbled pods for him. Joanne and I also decided to try some in the kitchen … and then, Joanne discovered this NPR story on her Apple contraption:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=129855166&sc=ipad8f=1008

Three Dog Night: We’ve got three dog crates for sale, medium, large, and super large with a puppy divider for anyone who needs to train a new puppy/dog. 

Keep It Local: Fun for all Sunday from noon until 5 p.m. at La Cocina Mexicana’s parking lot in Kutztown.

Eat It Local: At Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market we have peppers and potatoes for roasting, eggs for poaching, garlic for planting (and eating), shallots (Picasso and Long) and zucchini for toasting, kale and chard for boasting, and basil for pestoing.

Written on Slate: As you think good thoughts you are planting good seeds inside you, and the Universe will transform those seeds into a garden of paradise – Rhonda Byrne

Fleur-de-NunRun

My mother is a walker. Several times a day she heads outside and sets a pretty good pace for a 60 or 70 year old, let alone an octogenarian.

So, when I heard about the Nun Run and Fun Walk at Sacred Heart Villa in Reading last weekend, I thought it would be something different to do for her visit. My friend Dina, my mom, and I went to support Sister Kathleen and her Missionary Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, chalk up a morning workout, and get great Nun Run T-shirts.

Dina ran the course while my mother and I started walking. We soon settled into a comfortable speed beside a woman pushing a double baby jogger. We introduced ourselves to the new mother, a theology professor at Villanova. (She couldn’t pass up a “Nun Run” either.) I asked the names of her 8-month-old twins.

“Thomas and Campion,” she replied.

Now my menopausal mental state has me forgetting names of good friends, recipe ingredients, and the location of my Turkey Hill 52-cent-refillable coffee mug. I’ve never been one to memorize poems or speeches or even titles of books – why waste the effort when I can “look it up”? But, in a voice much smoother than my own, the Fleur-de-Lys spirit flowed with the words, “Thomas Campion … There is a garden in her face, where roses and white lilies grow … I can’t remember the rest.” 

I shocked myself and I know I stunned the professor!

I was walking forward, but backpedalling fast. “Um, I love that quote because it reminds me of my daughter. We have an old building on our property and the slate roof had to be replaced so I recycle the slates for garden signs with my favorite quotes. The Thomas Campion quote is right next to the hammock, so I recite it to myself while I rest in the shade.”

When I got home, I decided if I was waxing poetic Campion I needed to Google the chap.  It turns out Thomas Campion was a Renaissance Englishman (1567-1620) , a poet, medical doctor, and author of a book on music theory.  He also wrote 100 songs for the lute in the Books of Airs (also spelled Ayres). The Fourth Book of Airs includes, “There Is a Garden in Her Face.” And now, almost 400 years later, there are two little boys in Pennsylvania, Thomas and Campion, and a lute song singing farmer, Laurie Lynch.

There Is a Garden in Her Quilt: Quilter Valerie, a weekly customer from Bethlehem, tells me she is always working on a quilt. But the quilt she is working on right now reminds her of Fleur-de-Lys, a patchwork of gardens, with sunflowers and a sun, birdhouses, and a central cathedral window. Can’t wait to see it.

Hamburg Sauce: That’s the name of the version of sauce Holly’s PA Dutch grandmother used to make, similar to last week’s Club Sauce. “She used it on everything, that is, if she wasn’t using horseradish on it already.”

You Say Potat-O, I Say Po-tot-O: My daughter Marina tells me that the French equivalent of “yum” is “miammmmm.” We’ve got potatoes at Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market this week, as well as garlic, shallots, peppers, tomatoes, basil, eggs, squash, beans, kale, and chard. Miammmm! Stop by and see our giant luffas too.

Keep It Local, Get It Global: I don’t “do” Facebook, and life in that fast lane blissfully passes me by … most of the time. After reading about the plight of Kutztown’s La Cocina Mexicana, in a recent F-d=L newsletter and then scanning Facebook, or whatever one does with Facebook, my daughter zipped off a few highlights of an upcoming FUNd-raiser via Skype chat from Brussels.

A Keep It Local event will be held in the parking lot of La Cocina Mexicana, 107 W. Main St., Sunday, Oct. 3, from noon to 5 p.m. This event is run by locals to support local businesses and build a sense of community, as well as to show local pride in being different. The info she sent explains, “Let’s face it, this town has characters, and we want those characters there.” The goal is to make the event “odd/off-the-wall/weird”. So, the day will include everything from mime to mariachi with lots of festive folks and fun, including a Pizza Pinata!

Written in Slate: There is a garden in her face,

Where roses and white lilies grow;

A heavenly paradise is that place

Where in all pleasant fruits do flow.  Thomas Campion

Fleur-de-TomatoStory

Granted, things are slowing a bit in the garden. The drought has been tough on the winter squash and pumpkins – our irrigation towers didn’t reach far enough. The potatoes and garlic are pulled but it is too soon to harvest the sweet potatoes, celeriac, and Jerusalem artichokes. The first planting of tomatoes is dwindling; the second is taking its time ripening. The peppers, kale, and chard are coming on strong, but the beans and cucumbers peaked and disappeared. I’m not sure what the fall lettuce and spinach and arugula seeds are doing; they sure don’t seem to be germinating …

So the shorter days of September are making room for a more leisurely schedule, especially this week while my mother is visiting. One morning we had coffee and scones at Global Libations to ease into the day. One afternoon a friend dropped by and joined us for lunch. Another filled me in on her summer in Canada exercising polo ponies and invited my mother to her farm. 

I have a sneaking suspicion my mother thinks there is too much gabbing and not enough working.

 “You were in the shop with that customer for so long. What did she buy?”

“Oh, a dozen eggs and a pound of garlic, but we were talking about roasting peppers and freezing pesto. Then she told me about her vacation.” These things take time.

So how do I explain that one of the joys of Fleur-de-Lys Farm is gathering stories from my customers? There is no per-minute charge or 99-cents-a-download fee.

Perhaps this heart-warming story and recipe with history will do the trick. It arrived via email from a woman named Jan. We have an early connection: she lived in State College, my hometown, while she was in first grade and her father was getting his Master’s degree at Penn State. Jan is in the midst of putting together a family cookbook and she sent along a recipe and a delightful snippet of family history.

Jan’s father Joe is quite the gardener and he loves to grow tomatoes best of all. This year, he is growing 80 tomato plants, and makes weekly trips from Mill Hall to Kutztown to share the bounty of his garden with Jan. Besides tomatoes, Joe loves Penn State football and dresses for games in a white tux embroidered with various Lion designs. Jan sent this  recipe for “Club Sauce”, a 1960s version of salsa that her family uses on just about everything, from eggs to hamburgers.

While the recipe is a great way to finish off the growing season (nothing from the harvest goes to waste), it also lends itself to tailgate parties. But what I like most is the tomato story that accompanies it. In the summer of 1952, Jan’s parents, Martha and Joe, planted a tomato garden in South Renovo. They sold the tomatoes they harvested that summer … to buy Martha’s wedding dress. Laurie Lynch

Club Sauce

12 large tomatoes

2 onions

3 sweet peppers

1 hot pepper

2 cups vinegar

2 cups sugar

2 tablespoons salt (optional)

Mix together and cook slowly until the consistency of salsa.

P.S. If you’d like to share a family story and recipe with Fleur-de-Lys friends, send it my way!

Paraprosdokian: This, my friends, is a figure of speech to which I was just introduced. It occurs when the latter part of a sentence or phrase is unexpected, causing the reader to reinterpret the first part. It is often humorous and sometimes, anticlimactic. Here is a tomato-themed paraprosdokian: Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

Written on Slate: There is nothing finer in life than true love and a home-grown tomato. Gary Ibsen

Fleur-de-Breeze

 “Heeeeeeeey, I thought you said I was retiiiiiiired,” Griffey whinnied in the wind.

The cool breezes that made for a perfect Labor Day weekend got me back in the saddle, taking Griffey the retired Mennonite buggy horse for a slow-going trail ride.

“Heeeeeeey, what’s thaaaaaat?” Griffey whinnied once again, balking at a pink arrow spray painted on Hottenstein Road, a leftover directional sign for a Friends Inc. bicycle ride.

Together, the tall, graying-on-the-face Standardbred and the tall, graying-on-the-head Mommabred discovered a farm road new to both of us. With heads held high above the tassels of field corn, we were swallowed in the expanse of blue with white poofy clouds floating above Sittler Valley. “Heeeeeeey, some viewwwwww.”

An incredible lightness of being blew through this Labor Day weekend, sweeping away the mugginess of a long, stifling summer. My thoughts dissolved into a memory of my father and me, a good 25 years ago, crisscrossing farm fields through drifting snow astride a pair of gray geldings, Lucky and Pepper. A year ago this weekend my father left this world, but for a moment, his incredible lightness of spirit returned. Laurie Lynch

Take a Stand: La Cocina Mexicana, 107 W. Main Street, Kutztown, may lose its location to a Pizza Hut! As part of Go Indie’s mission to help independent business owners, the Go Indie team has developed a video and Facebook page for La Cocina Mexicana.

Please watch the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fATIcgV4aWc

Join the Facebook Page to help Sal Quintero keep his restaurant:

http://www.facebook.com/?ref=logo#!/group.php?gid=147902445242353

Other ideas: Let John Monaghan Realtors (610) 683-5333) know you oppose this move toward mallification.

Call Kutztown Community Partnership (484) 646-9069 or email kcp@hometownu.com to let them know you want to keep this independently owned restaurant in Kutztown.

Contact Pizza Hut Inc., 14841 Dallas Parkway, Dallas, TX 75254, or pizzahut.com, or call the customer feedback number, (800) 948-8488.  Tell them you think Pizza Hut might be a great idea for a Kutztown University dining kiosk, but our town wants to keep its independently owned flavor.

Send this message to others!

Visit La Cocina Mexicana for a meal to show your support!

Historical Note: When Sal retired his “Cocina Mexicana II Authentic Mexican Food” sign, it found a new home in my son Richard’s bedroom. “La Cocina” has been Richard’s favorite restaurant for as long as I can remember.

Small World, Big Heaven: Sal Quintero’s mother and Aunt France’s mother are buried in the same cemetery in Guadalajara, Mexico.

Another Historical Note: Dine Indie (Robyn Jasko and Paul David) supported Fleur-de-Lys Farm during our chicken zoning battle several years ago.

At Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market this week: Potatoes, tomatoes, garlic, shallots, summer squash, asparagus beans, watermelon wedges, kale, chard, cucumbers, peppers, and eggs.

Coming Soon: heirloom sweet potatoes, both white and orange, and, after the first frost, Jerusalem artichokes, Brussels sprouts, and homegrown loofas.

Thank You: For all the emails, prayers, hugs, and support as I enter a “new chapter” of life.

Written on Slate: Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. -- Margaret Mead

Fleur-de-Divorce

He only had to say one word: "Divorce."

Our family crumbled. Our farm and future collapsed. My whole being 

shattered.

"We've grown apart."

Geez, I thought we were growing children into young adults. A family. 

A quaint, local market for our retirement years.  Growing Easter 

chicks into laying hens. Growing Poona Kheera cucumbers, St. Pierre 

tomatoes, Music amd Maxatawny garlic, and red, white, and blue 

potatoes. Rainbow carrots, Bright Lights chard, and purple, yellow 

and green beans. Strawberries, elderberries, currants, blackberries, 

Asian pears, and still waiting on the pawpaws and quince. Oh, the 

pawpaws and quince. Jerusalem artichokes, Belgian endive, loofa 

sponges, lavender wands, and lovage straws. Zinnias, sunflowers, 

climbing nasturtiums, and naked ladies. Dill for pickles, basil for 

pesto, and rosemary for remembrance. Remembrance.

Over the years, these Fleur-de-Lys Farm newsletters have come easy. 

Often, they have written themselves as I pulled foxtail grass or 

pigweed, trying to keep optimism in the forefront. This one was 

different. Frankly, I haven't known quite how to write it but I do 

know that now is the time. None of us can predict what happens from 

one day to the next, but plan, we must. I hope to continue Fleur-de-

Lys Farm Market until the end of the year. And, I will continue this 

newsletter, until . well, as long as there are rosy stories to share.

But even if Fleur-de-Lys Farm soil isn't in or under my boots, it 

will flourish in my mind and my heart. As will the cast of characters 

over the years: the Cousin Campers, Allentown-Coplay friends/family, 

Celso, Bob and Jorga, Tweet and Tim, Cousin Rebecca and Aunt France, 

the Local Yolk*els, the tree huggers and Easter Peeple. Mr. 

Parrothead, Milton from Brooklyn, Joyce and Kim, Ruth E. and Ruthie, 

the Flounders, Paul from Easton, Dino Italiano, and TH Rich.  

Meredith, Valerie, Ginny, Vanessa, Linda, Joanne, Amanda, Josh, 

Denise, Adrienne, and so many others. DebZ, Sonnema and pa, Sister K  

and the Faithfuls, the sorority girls, the newbies, like Jen and 

Destiny, and all my little friends who help gather eggs from the 

nesting boxes on hen hill and giggle when the roosters crow.

You all have my sincere gratitude. It has been a pleasure to grow 

with you and for you. Laurie Lynch

Fleur-de-Seasons

 

Back in February of 2005, I gave a talk at a Winter Women’s Weekend called Eating Through the Seasons: A Calendar of Culinary Adventures.

I had fun preparing and presenting it with my right-hand-woman, daughter Marina. The other day, we were helping each other de-clutter … although we were several time zones and thousands of miles apart. She was in her kot in Brussels, sorting through her wardrobe, trying to weed out T-shirts from middle school and blouses that were uncomfortably short-waisted. I was in our living room, clearing out our only downstairs closet, ridding it of old rolls of wallpaper, bags of bags and boxes of boxes, trying to create an oasis of storage in a century-old farmhouse.

So, in the midst of all of that, I stumbled across a sleeve of handouts from my 2005 talk. I have the extra copies of recipes in the shop … while they last. Laurie Lynch

January: Nanna’s Mayonnaise (from Aunt France) and Oven-Steamed Beets

February: Spicy Groundhogs (cookies) and Herbal Infusion

March: Maple-Vinegar Bliss (from my Mom’s kitchen) and Arugula Salad

April: Boiled Eggs and Egg Salad

May: Wrapped Asparagus and Asparagus and Lemon Dip

June: Gratin du Pay san and Spinach-Strawberry Salad

July: Strozzapreti and Clafouti (from the kitchen of Paula Kutz)

August: Grilled Polenta and Edamame

September: Green Bean Salad

October: Pesto and Rosemary Chicken

November: Pumpkin-Ginger Scones and Roasted Tomato Sauce

December: Chard Pie

At Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market this week: freshly dug potatoes: red, white and blue, Tiny Tims, and Yukon Gold. Also, German White and Music garlic loose for eating and bagged for planting, heirloom tomatoes of all shapes, sizes and colors, blackberries, Zephyr squash, lemon, Richmond apple, and Poona Kheera cucumbers, Picasso shallots, red, purple, and yellow sweet peppers, asparagus (yard-long) beans, purple, yellow and green beans, blackberries, and basil. Oh yes, eggs too.

Saturday Barn Sale: Tool chest for a pickup truck, truck wheels, whiskey barrel, dog crates, iron bed, books for children and adults, sporting equipment, parakeet condo, children’s table and chairs, canning equipment, baskets, games, Halloween costumes, must I go on? Just check it out anytime this week – official hours for the sale are Saturday from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m.

Calling All Cartons: If you have a stash of our egg cartons in your car or mudroom, please return them to Fleur-de-Lys Farm. We recycle our own egg cartons, and the pullets are laying!

Seeing Double, Sorta: Many of you know and love our farm manager, Nick the Cat. Well, this summer a stray showed up, an orange kitten. Nick was neutered way back when, but this definitely looks like his kittenhood self. We’ve been feeding it but the darn thing is so shy we can’t get near it. Lately it has made a friend: Nick. They’ve been romping through the bushes and wrestling on the ground, and the youngster even drinks  out of Nick’s favorite watering hole – the pig trough near the shop entrance. So cute!

Written in Slate: “What dreadful hot weather we have! It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance.” Jane Austen