Entries from July 2013
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On Surprises and an Unlikely Recipe
Keeping a luxury inn on 42 acres of fields, forests, and vineyards is a lot of work. In addition to the regular duties and upkeep of the inn, there are a host of farm chores: chickens to keep, gardens to water and weed, gophers to trap, fields to mow, the vineyard to tend. How Karen and Neal have kept it up so tirelessly for ten years is beyond me. And on top of all the regular work, there are always surprises to deal with. Like the other day, when Neal noticed the unmistakable stink of skunk in the garage. He searched every corner of the garage, wondering if he would find a skunk in one of them. He didn’t, to his relief, but he soon found the culprit curled up in her usual spot on the bench outside the front door: Queen Bee. She had gotten herself properly skunked.
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Lavender Lemonade
This time of year, lavender is in its prime. The official Oregon Lavender Festival may be over, but the lovely herb continues to flourish and dots our property in patches of purple and white. One of my favorite uses for lavender is Lavender Lemonade – it’s sweet, tangy, floral, and it’s a perfect thirst-quencher on these hot summer afternoons. You can make regular old lemonade and just throw a handful of fresh lavender flowers in it to infuse, but I’ve found that the best method uses lavender simple syrup. Make sure to use culinary-grade lavender, meaning lavender that hasn’t been treated with any chemicals. Fun fact: If you use the variety of lavender called Hidcote, your lemonade will turn pink.
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The New Pecking Order
Two very special deliveries came the other day. The first was the Cadillac of chicken coops, handmade by Tristan Nichols of The Chicken Coop Store. It arrived in the afternoon, and in a matter of minutes was assembled next to the garden awaiting the second special delivery: ten young hens. They came in the back of a white SUV, huddled together in two crates, their necks resting on each other’s backs. They were hesitant to leave the comfort of their huddles for the spacious coop, even with its fresh hay, full feeder, and comfortable roosts. Neal opened the crate doors, but they refused to come out, even with a couple gentle shakes to the crate to coax them out. “Okay,” he said, “We’re going to have to do this the hard way.” He reached in and grabbed a hen by the legs and pulled each one out in an unhappy flurry of squawking and flapping. Once they were free of the crates, they resumed their huddle in the corner of the coop furthest from Neal.
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The Ladies
I got out of my car at the inn one morning and heard a commotion up the hill. Before I could place the sounds, a frantic hen came sprinting around the bushes as fast as her little legs would take her, with a very happy chocolate lab in pursuit. It would have been comical had I not known exactly how it was going to end. I ran up the hill as fast as I could, shouting, “No! No!” at the dog, but it made no difference. I lost sight of him in the tall grass, and when he reappeared, the hen was limp in his mouth. I kept running and shouting at the dog, because now I was mad. But one look at me, and he ran into the woods in a flurry of feathers and was gone.