Animals make the farm

Although I live in the heart of farm country, I'm reluctant to call myself a farmer. I always wanted to have the full farm -- gardens and animals, cows lolling in the fields ready to give milk twice a day, chickens -- all sorts of things that signify a real, honest-to-goodness farm. But in a problem I share with real farmers, I just don’t seem to have enough hands on deck to manage it all. A larger-scale chicken operation may still be in my future, but honestly -- milking at 5:00 a.m.? Not so realistic when there's a flock of girls who need to be fed before being shooed off  to school.

Good company? For sure. Useful? Not so much . . .

So instead of cows, I have a lot of “useless” animals. My wonderful goats are a lovable bunch, but I often think it would be easier to herd cats. Shawn built a beautiful fence that would -- as my neighbour Ralph said -- contain elephants. But goats are like mice; they can get out a hole one-eighth the size of their body. It’s actually miraculous watching them in contortions a yoga instructor would not be able to perform . . .except when you realize those contortions are leading to an escape.

Maybe it's a new sideline experience I could offer to visitors (for a substantial fee of course!): the Amazing South Pond Goat Escape Artists. In the middle of an event, we could nudge Millie and her crew into those impossible feats, and as a bonus, guests would be treated to baby goats skipping around the property nibbling on hats and lace. Or maybe not -- it's starting to sound a bit like a scene out of Amelia Bedelia!

As for the dogs that are supposed to be keeping the animals in line -- where are they when all the action is going down? Sleeping. Sleeping, lounging, gnawing on a bone, sleeping. Goats? Coyotes? Please. They'd rather relax.

Why interrupt a perfectly good nap?

This shot from the wonderful Lindsay photographer Kim Magee is definitely one of the only times I’ve seen our large lethargic dog, Nim (bred to protect and herd goats), actually doing what she is supposed to do. 

A traditional wedding gift: Corn Flower

Not long ago, I grabbed the girls for an overnight road trip over to Collingwood and down through Creemore with a stop in at the Dufferin County Museum near my friend Claire’s farm. I'd whooshed by this spot countless times, but on this occasion we stopped. I'm so glad we did! The museum has the largest public collection of Corn Flower glass around. I had never heard of this quality glass, which is sometimes called Hughes Corn Flower, but apparently, it was started by a man named Jack Hughes around 1912 and was produced here in Canada until the 1980's.

This four-part relish dish shows off the delicate pattern typical of Corn Flower glass

If you were married in Ontario in the forties or fifties, you probably received Corn Flower items as wedding gifts. I’m not a collector, but the museum's display really intrigued me, so I asked my “personal shopper” Ron if he had seen any in his travels. Sure enough, he showed up the next week with a lovely, delicate little candy dish that any bride would have been thrilled to receive.

Two lovely pieces from my own "collection" 

At least, I would like one if I were getting married . . . which I’m not!

Life's little necessities

New ideas for South Pond have brought with them a new reality: the need for permanent washrooms. (Let's face it--port-a-potties are many things, but pleasant isn't one of them.) So, reluctantly but knowing the importance of handling the situation properly, especially in the country where our water comes from wells, construction has begun.

Preparing the site

 And because we try to make everything we do beautiful as well as functional, this won't be just any washroom. It will be crafted with skill and integrity by fine carpenters and builders who are sensitive to the way that the land falls and rises, to the view from the barn, to the vistas from the pond. That's just how the crew at Ironstone Land and Building Design does things.

Working from the ground up

We'll let you know when they're finished so you can come and see for yourself!

Follow the Yellow Brick Road!

We've had an exciting time of it recently as South Pond hosted the hopefuls vying to be chosen as Dorothy in an upcoming Toronto production of The Wizard of Oz. CBC recorded the tryouts for the accompanying reality show Over the Rainbow. Keep an eye out for Millie the goat and the rest of the gang when the show debuts on Sept. 16 at 8:00! In the meantime, check out this National Post story about the fun at South Pond . . . or should I say Dorothy Farm?

One of the aspiring Dorothys on Over the Rainbow

Girls, this is why we live here!

A perfect magical moment!

This is why I moved to the country. On so many occasions (too many my daughters might think!) - when the moon is just so, the light reflects magically on the fields, the fog settles around the hay bales...I yell out:  "girls, look outside!  This is why we live here! 

I’m sitting inside our barn once filled with hay and cattle, listening to the profoundly beautiful music created with intensity, precision and vibrancy by Mayumi Seiler and her chamber ensemble. Beethoven never knew that his string quartet could be elevated to such acoustic satisfaction. The light through the barn boards, the afternoon breeze slightly riffling the music sheets. Through the windows I can see the swallows swooping in rhythm. Afterward, a mid-afternoon brunch at one long table against a backdrop of hay bales. Friends and neighbours passing the jam and bread. Most do not know each another but were drawn by a love of music, food, the appeal of an afternoon in the country or the experience of all three. Everything about it was magical — the perfect melding of rural and culture.  And it was exactly what I have hoped for my life here in the countryside. This is why we live here. 

They hay bales make the perfect back drop!

The swallows, the breeze, the music.....

The Swallows of Summer

As we restored the barn, I had no problem getting rid of stray nails and rotten boards. What I couldn’t get rid of was the population of pigeons, swallows and other birds.

The doors were on, the windows installed, and all the holes — the big ones, anyway — were filled in. Surely the birds were gone for good? Well, no. But we’ve managed to find a way to coexist.

The turning point was the day that Nim, the white dog whose role was supposed to involve protecting the goats, snatched a baby pigeon up in his mouth, leaving its twin alone in the nest with no sibling or mother. I know I probably should have just let nature take its course, but the next thing I knew, I had the baby in a cage, nursing it back to health. Great. 

I finally admitted to myself that I couldn’t face the potential dislocation of all of those poor birds. We opened the doors on the bottom part of the barn just a little bit and overnight, the swallows (and a few pigeons) moved in.

I’m so glad I went with my heart — it’s been truly amazing to watch and listen to the barn coming alive with birds. I’ve been richly rewarded with the sounds of their singing and chirping, not to mention the fact that they eat their weight in bugs. 

The swallows’ nests are tucked outside and inside along the eaves.  

We’ve reached a compromise. The birds get the bottom part of the barn. My guests get the top part. The swallows no longer try to invade our territory, and we try not to interfere with them.

I was reminded of my feathered follies recently at the recent open house I held to introduce people to South Pond Farms and see if there was interest in the food- and art-related courses and products I’m offering.

Visitors wandered the grounds, checking out the goat palace, the freshly stocked South Pond Store and of course the barn. It gave me such pleasure to see people strolling about, meeting new friends and hailing old ones despite the chill in the air.

Birds turn up in other places at South Pond, too.

But I think the highlight of the evening for me was seeing guests transfixed by the sight of baby swallows peeking out of their brilliantly engineered mud nests as their moms and dads swooped around to make sure all was well.

The sight made me realize that the barn is truly coming into its own. This is what I was aiming for, even if I wasn’t conscious of it — nature’s beauty and human function in harmony. And after all, a barn is for livestock, even if it’s the singing, feathered kind. 

Saying "I Do", Country Style

South Pond is in full bloom! All weddings are beautiful in their own way, but this year's first was particularly special. Broc and Mandy were married on May 26 in a ceremony full of loving family and friends. The weather was perfect, everyone looked terrific, and it was truly a joyous day. I was so pleased to be a part of it! Toronto photographer Adrian Tamas produced some absolutely gorgeous photos -- you can check them out on his blog. (Scroll down to the post titled "Mandy & Broc I Do!")

Open . . . Barn?

Several were invited.                       About 25 were hoped for.

  More than 100 showed up. 

Chatting outside the silo in my summery dress . . . and sweater!

The recent open house (or is that "open barn"?) at South Pond was a wonderful chance to greet old friends and meet new ones while showcasing what we have to offer. 

The outdoor fireplace was a popular destination on what turned out to be a chilly June evening.

Flowers and plants spilled out where you least expected them.

Just-blooming lilacs and fragrant apple blossoms said "Spring" even if the weather didn't.

Visitors enjoyed looking through the newly opened South Pond Store.

Caramelized local rhubarb and onions topped slices of boiled potatoes and blue cheese.

Fruit cobbler is truly a taste of spring.

Snacks served with a smile!

Striking a Cord . . . or Eight

Trying to heat  a drafty farm house with wood is nearly impossible. Well, you can do it, but parts of the house will be cozy and lovely, while other parts - well...  And this wasn’t even a cold winter. One night I discovered two of my daughters huddled under a quilt watching a movie. Carlyle looked up and said "Jeez -- I can see my breath!" The upside? Her toes were toasty thanks to the brick -- heated on the wood stove -- at her feet.

Shawn and I have taken to spending Friday nights sitting with our feet in the open oven door of the wood cook-stove, as we read or chat. No more crazy Toronto nights out for me!

Even though it was a mild winter, I actually ran out of wood well before spring. I was determined that wouldn't happen this winter. I’d buy eight cords (bush cords, of course -- face cords are for city people) and get the wood all nestled in for the winter now, knowing that if I bought it in the fall, it probably wouldn't be dry.  

And a few weeks ago, eight cords of firewood arrived from Woodview Farm Products. Have you ever seen what eight cords of firewood looks like dumped all over a lawn? (Keep in mind, a bush cord is four feet by four feet by eight feet.) I cried. No, really -- I did. We were looking at a minimum of two weeks of steady stacking -- a huge job.   

With lots of visitors scheduled to visit the farm over the summer, the wood had to be neat. A bit of research turned up something called a holz hausen. Being of German lineage, I was especially interested in this approach to stacking -- the name means simply "wood house."  It's a carefully constructed woodpile that looks attractive and is traditionally used to pile a lot of wood in a small place. The shape is a sort of a beehive with an open funnel in the centre to encourage air flow, which in turn speeds drying of the wood. 

On Good Friday, we put our gloves on and got started. Carlyle, Olivia and Aubrey were game to help, but  Daughter Number Two, Grace, declared she would have no part in the “shenanigans,” as she called them. (Mind you, she's also the one who expects her bedroom to be nice and toasty 24/7!) We opened the car doors so we could blare country music as we began on the first layer. 

As we built, a wonderful thing happened. Not only did the job go faster than we expected, even the girls thought the process was . . . dare I say it . . . fun! 

When our first-ever holz hausen was finished, I'll be honest--we were pretty impressed with our handiwork. Even Grace, still in her lovely lady-of-leisure robe, took a walk around in silence and made her pronouncement. "I'm not going to lie, Mom. It looks good." She then proceeded to redeem herself by making us all lunch. And there you have it...is it wood or is it art? For me it’s both: a thing of beauty as I walk by and a source of comfort representing a warm house next winter. 

As an aside, my mother called the day same day we created our stack to tell us about a new photography exhibition at her  local gallery on the subject of -- wait for it -- wood stacks. How crazy is that?! Forging new trends here in the Bethany Hills . . .