A muddy, decidedly not-white Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through Kleinshire not a creature was dry, not even a mouse. Lest things have seemed all roses and rolling green pastures, here's a glimpse of the farm after days of relentless rain: 

Good thing for mud boots!

From the goats' stall, looking out on the front pasture. I currently have it blocked off so that the animals don't tear up both pastures while they're soggy.

The rain barrel was full a few days ago. Too bad we don't have more of these yet.

Tam and Ella, staying dry as best they can.

Stella and Tarcy hanging out in their stall. It has rained so much that there is standing water on one end of their stall.

A California White braves the elements.

Hanging out inside is definitely a drier option.

The poor meat chickens are staying dry as best they can. They've only been out of the garage for a week or so.

There's that passage in Isaiah about the lion lying down with the lamb. It hasn't come true for these two yet.

There is so much water that it is practically coursing across the lawn.

Guinea hen!

2014 Christmas Letter

Christmas Eve, 2014

 

Dear Family and Friends,

Christmas greetings! It’s been quite the year for us, especially beginning in late April when we closed on a house just outside the tiny town of Bunn, twenty miles east of Wake Forest. Called Kleinshire, it’s the beginning of a subsistence farming enterprise that we’ve long dreamed about. Rosemary was so excited that she purchased Nigerian dwarf goats even before we closed on the house. Thank God we did close, as there were some complications at the last minute! One little doeling spent its first few weeks in the dining room of our suburban rental.

The boys absolutely love the freedom of the large yard and the pastures of Kleinshire. One of Franz’s first projects was a play fort, complete with a large slide. Cyprian rides his bike up and down the driveway and has already taken to building things with hammer and nails. He is also progressing nicely with his reading and with math, most recently subtraction with the help of an abacus. A little more reluctant with Rosemary’s school lessons, Clement prefers to build forts out of laundry baskets and sheets and to do battle as a combination of Batman and St. George, with his costume paying homage to both: sword in holster, shield in hand, and cape tied round his neck. Cletus, for his part, is happy to join his brothers in whatever mischief they’re at. His favorite activities include tearing out all the toys in his room and singing lustily in church (and pretty much everywhere else, too).

Our biggest news, of course, is that number four will be arriving toward the end of next month. Rosemary’s pregnancy is going well, and she’s working w

ith a midwife to prepare for the birth. Boy or girl? Your guess is as good as ours. In fact, if you’d like to join the guessing pool, send us one dollar together with your guesses for the date and time of birth, the gender, and the weight. Besides homeschooling the boys, preparing for the new baby, and continuing with Tae Kwon Do, Rosemary is busy with her numerous homesteading activities. In addition to the goats, who provide us with milk, we now have a dog, a cat, two horses, three guineas, and a flock of egg layers. We’ve also been raising organic broiler chickens to sell through the parish and Franz’s school, processing a new batch every two or three months. Another big project this past fall was processing the two pigs that we raised, including learning to make everything from lard, to bacon, to headcheese. Finally, this spring we’ll complete the farm by breaking ground for a full-sized garden.

Besides all the house upkeep, the maintenance of fences, the construction of the chicken run, etc., Franz is busy with teaching and coaching at St. Thomas More Academy. He had a full load of philosophy and Latin classes this fall and is looking forward to adding a Southern Literature elective in the spring. He hasn’t made much progress on the dissertation recently but plans to get back on track over Christmas break.  So, it’s a busy time for us, and it’ll only be busier once the new baby arrives. But there’s so much for us to thank God for as we celebrate the birth of our Savior.

Christmas blessings to you and your family from ours, with love,


Franz, Rosemary, Cyprian, Clement, Cletus, & baby on the way

Awaiting the Savior's birth

Our secular society began celebrating Christmas before the turkey was picked clean last month. Okay, maybe before it went into the oven, or perhaps even before it was plucked. I think it was the day after Thanksgiving, in fact, that one of the local stations began playing Christmas music exclusively. This trend of Christmas coming ever earlier is rightly bemoaned, as it's mainly commercially driven. It's certainly bemoaned here in the Klein household, where the kids have responded to this bemoaning by gleefully exclaiming, as if they've heard a forbidden word, every time they hear Christmas mentioned on the radio.

I actually don't mind too much. There's something of expectation and waiting inherent to Christmas. After all, it's about the birth of a child, which is always preceded by a nine-month period of waiting. Advent is about patient expectation, an annual reminder of the patient expectation with which the Christian awaits his Savior's second coming. 

I love seeing the naturalness of this anticipation of Christmas in my children, especially in their eager embrace of the little traditions we've been fostering. One of our traditions involves praying Compline together. Each evening we begin at the kitchen table, where one of the kids lights the candles on the Advent wreath. Then we sing a hymn and pray the psalms and readings of the Church's official night prayer together. Then one of the kids carries a candle--with help, certainly, if it's Cletus!--into the bedroom and carefully sets it on the dresser for our regular nightly rosary. The kids love the symbolism of every aspect of the prayer. They love hearing about the different colors. And the little pyros especially love the chance to light and blow out candles.

Family prayer during the Advent season

Last Sunday was Gaudete Sunday, which takes its name from the Mass introit and the traditional epistle for the third Sunday of Advent, both of which begin with the command "Gaudete," or "Rejoice!" This is the Sunday when the Advent wreath's pink-colored candle is lit, something we did on Saturday night since feasts, including Sundays, traditionally begin at sundown the night before. Cyprian and Clement listened intently as I explained how the pink candle sets this Sunday apart, reminding us to be joyful even in expectation of Jesus' birth. I also mentioned that the priest will also wear pink vestments (rose, technically). Sure enough, Fr. Phil Tighe at St. Catherine's processed in wearing pink vestments on Sunday morning, and Cyprian turned to me beaming the widest of smiles.

I love it when my kids pay attention to details like this. Traditions and symbols are so important because they etch themselves in our minds indelibly, imprinting in us the sounds, the scents, and the sights of a season in such a way tht we will never forget them. 

This evening marks the period of intensest expectation, the eight days, or octave, before Christmas. We celebrated the beginning of the octave by decorating our Christmas tree. It got pretty intense, as Cletus decided it was more effective to take ornaments off the tree in order to show them to us than simply to point them out. That said, we manage to muddle through, and now the house is aglow and the kids are abed.

Of course, Christmas requires other preparations. In the children's department, the boys already discovered a miniature basketball hoop that I had bought and hidden in the garage. Thence ensued a slightly shady tale about how difficult it is for Santa Claus to deliver all the presents the night of Christmas Eve, and how sometimes he has to drop some of the larger ones off ahead of time and send an elf along later on to wrap them. 

In the adult department, Rosemary has requested a sodastream machine. Being the cheapo that I am, I looked online and discovered there are easy ways to construct a homemade version. I put it together last night, and we're already enjoying our own homemade seltzer water. A little early to be enjoying Rosemary's Christmas present, you say? Well, if we can put up the tree and listen to Christmas music on the radio, I suppose a small foretaste of acqua frizzante won't hurt too much. After all, it's the third week of Advent, and we're called to be joyful in our expectation. As for the kids' basketball hoop? It's tucked just a little deeper back into the garage. 

Our homemade take on the sodastream machine

Happy New Year!

This evening, of course, is the eventide of the first Sunday of Advent, the first Sunday of the new liturgical year. We try to make it special in the Klein household, with the lighting of the Advent wreath. Rosemary had squirreled away a few rose-colored candles that she found on sale at a dollar store, so we were set as far as the Gaudete Sunday candle was concerned, but she had to sneak off to Bunn to purchase three violet candles for the other Sundays. Small-town Bunn isn't exactly North Carolina's shopping meca, so this year burgundy will have to do. Cyprian, when he learned that Gaudete Sunday was the Sunday marking particularly joyful celebration, remarked that he would have been happier if we had populated the wreath with Rosemary's stockpile of rose candles.

So, the evening concluded with the lighting of the Advent wreath, with the honors conducted by the eldest son, Cyprian. This was followed by "Creator of the Stars of Night" and Compline. Then we processed into the bedroom with one candle, where we prayed the rosary. This has been our special Advent routine the past few years. I'd like to say that the added prayer and reverence is what makes it so popular, but I think its popularity has more to do with the boys' pyromaniacal tendencies.

Of course, the long weekend began on Wednesday evening, with of our friends, the Gormans, together with their three children. It was a full household for Thanksgiving--exactly as it should be.

Here is the table setting sans people. We adults ate from the heirloom china-ware that my grandpa gave us a few years ago. Note the mostly correct table setting for the adults!

Cum populo, apart from the Gorman's littlest, who was more content on the floor chewing on toys.

Clement and me. "I like meat," quoth Clement.

Clement might like meat, but not so much as Ryan. The turkey the Gormans brought was a twenty-five pound monster from an Amish farmer near where they live!

In honorem D. N. Iesu Christi, Universorum Regis

The Feast of Christ the King, with the feasting beginning early, as we'll be heading to 2 p.m. Spanish Mass at the Cathedral followed by the baptism of the baby of a friend.

Quoth Cyprian: "That's a big drumstick!"

Quoth Clement: "I think we should have seven pigs next time so that we can blow up bladder balls every day!"

Quoth Cletus: "Rarr... Rarr.."

Quoth Rosemary: "Don't forget to pour the juices over the top so that it doesn't dry out."

Musings on the Extraordinary Synod on the Family, the Removal of Cardinal Burke

Those who pay attention to Church things know that a large number of bishops from around the world were recently meeting in Rome. In Church-speak, it was an "extraordinary synod," extraordinary not in the sense that it was "marvelous" or "spectacular" but in the more ordinary sense that it was but a prelude to the "ordinary synod," that is, the meeting of bishops that sends its suggestions to the pope, who then publishes a document. Last month's synod was extraordinary in the first sense of the word, though, I would aver, because of the amount of attention it garnered, even among those who, unlike myself, don't ordinarily pay attention to Church things.

The Extraordinary Synod's focus was on the family, and it garnered extraordinary attention primarily because of the suggestion of Cardinal Walter Kasper that the Church modify her practice of denying Holy Communion to divorced and civilly remarried Catholics. The age-old teaching of the Church is that Catholics in second marriages cannot receive the Eucharist because their earlier marriages are indissoluble. It follows that those who get married civilly a second time are committing adultery against their spouse from their first marriage, even if their civil marriage has been dissolved in the eyes of the State through a divorce proceeding. In the eyes of the Church, the person must also seek a declaration of nullity--in other words, an annulment--which is the Church's juridical decision that there was some impediment to the couple giving their consent in the first place. In a speech last year, however, Cardinal Kasper argued that people who attempted to marry a second time without seeking an annulment need a second chance, alluding to the Orthodox Church's toleration of second marriages as a practice for the Catholic Church to emulate. After Pope Francis himself spoke up in appreciation of Cardinal Kasper's emphasis on mercy and forgiveness, some writers--Catholic and secular alike--began to suggest that the Church might actually change her teaching on marriage.

This is, of course, deeply troubling to those of us who understand the role of the Church as the faithful proclamation of the deposit of faith entrusted to her. The Church's traditional denial of the Eucharist to those in second marriages is based in Christ's own teaching about marriage--"Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery" (Mark 10:11-12)--and St. Paul's teaching regarding reception of the Eucharist--"Therefore whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will have to answer for the body and blood of the Lord" (1 Corinthians 11:27). But let me emphasize that I am not accusing Cardinal Kasper or for that matter Pope Francis, who lauded Cardinal Kasper's speech, of deliberate unfaithfulness to the perennial teachings of the Church. Cardinal Kasper, for his part, insists that he is advocating for a change in pastoral practice, not a change in the unchangeable deposit of faith. And Pope Francis, for his part, is the guardian of that deposit of faith and the successor of St. Peter, the rock on whom Christ built his Church, promising that "the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it" (Matthew 16:18).

So, I stand with Pope Francis, trusting that the Holy Spirit will guide him through the ever stormier waters of a secular world at odds with the Gospel message. That having been said, I've read enough history to know that the Church has often stood at the brink of doctrinal or pastoral shipwreck and that sometimes it's only because people, prompted by the Holy Spirit, have chosen to speak up with force and conviction that the Church has stayed true to her evangelical mission and purpose. St. Catherine of Siena's strong words to Pope Gregory XI is the first example to come to mind, but history is full of worse popes than Gregory and worse situations than a timid French pope who preferred to live in the relative safety of Avignon rather than return to Rome.

I am encouraged, in any case, that Pope Francis himself called for an open discussion of these matters leading up to the synod. And I was heartened by the example of Cardinal Raymond Burke, who, together with four other cardinals, published a collection of essays last month called Remaining in the Truth of Christ. Therein, these cardinals take a strong stance against Cardinal Kasper's proposals, noting, for example, that the cardinal misrepresents the Orthodox practice of tolerating second marriages, misuses his patristic sources, and thoroughly misunderstands the Church's annulment process. It is not at all as the media have presented it: Cardinal Kasper is the sympathetic, merciful pastor while Cardinal Burke is the cold-hearted, legalistic judge. Rather, Cardinal Burke and the other authors argue that true mercy, and true charity, must be grounded in truth. True forgiveness entails true repentance. As one writer has put it, if a penitent comes to the confessional, confesses his sin, and says that he is perfectly happy living in his sin, then the priest would fail in his duty if he were to pat the sinner on the back, assuring him that everything is all right and sending him on his way. Essential to penitence is being penitent, and resolving to amend one's life. How could the Church, pastorally speaking, both hold that marriage is indissoluble and at the same time pat those in second marriages on the back, affirming them in their situation? It doesn't seem very pastoral to me, insofar as the true pastor calls his flock to live their lives according to the truth.

It is not surprising, therefore, that many faithful Catholics, including myself, have observed the synod from afar with particular trepidation, even if we trust that the gates of the netherworld will not prevail. How is it that Pope Francis praised Cardinal Kasper when the German cardinal's proposals seem so clearly at odds both with Church teaching and with solid pastoral practice? It was particularly distressing to watch as Cardinal Kasper continued to give interviews to the media during the synod, and as other distressing proposals came to light in the interim document, most notably the suggestion that there was something to praise in the love and devotion that homosexuals have for each other their relationships. As the head of the Polish bishops' conference wrote about the synod, he had thought that he was coming to Rome in order to find ways to foster and strengthen Christian marriages in response to the challenges of a rapidly secularizing society. Instead, he found attempts to accommodate the teachings of the Church to the spirit of the age. The African bishops were particularly outspoken, pointing out that marriage and family life are vibrant and strong on their continent. Why, they asked, aren't the bishops doing more to resist the spirit of the age? My mouth was agape, in fact, as I read of Cardinal Kasper's patronizing, Euro-elitist remark to a journalist that "nobody is listening" to the African bishops at the synod.

Cardinal Kasper's unguarded remark seems to have been a last straw. Pope Francis proceeded to add several more bishops to the document drafting committee, including Cardinal Napier from South Africa. Shortly thereafter, several second-hand accounts have another outspoken cardinal--Cardinal Pell of Australia--standing up to speak when it was announced that the summaries of the various language groups discussions would be kept secret. Cardinal Pell said that, given the publicity of everything else, the world needed to know where the bishops stood. Some accounts state that the cardinal's microphone was turned off but that he stubbornly raised his voice and continued to speak, with his remarks being met with sustained, approving applause from frustrated bishops who detected manipulation of the synod proceedings by a small cadre of bishops who favored change.

The language group summaries, which were almost universally critical of the interim report, were indeed published, as Cardinal Pell insisted that they be, and the final document for the pope's consideration did not contain any of the controversial propositions. That having been said, the whole charade leaves an intensely bad taste in my mouth. Yes, I'm aware that the earliest Church synods and councils were contentious, but still, to have bishops seemingly so inured to the spirit of the age that they feel pastoral compromise is the best way to evangelize is deeply troubling. I can't pretend not to have seen it on full display on the local level over the years--schools I've attended that are Catholic in name only, parishes I've belonged to that water down their CCD programs, priests I've known who avoid controversial topics. What is the famous observation about water following the path of least resistance? It's definitely true of fallen human nature as well, and history clearly demonstrates that bishops, for all the special guidance that the Holy Spirit provides, are as human as anybody else.

Which leads me to related musings on Cardinal Burke, who last weekend was removed from his position as Prefect of the Apostolic Signatura--the Vatican's equivalent of the Supreme Court--and given the honorific title of Cardinal Patron to the Knights of Malta. Given Pope Francis's praise for Cardinal Kasper, some observers have detected in this move a demotion, perhaps even a punishment for Cardinal Burke's outspokenness. Cardinal Burke is only 66 years old, and it is very rare for a cardinal to be left without a fulltime position at such a young age, either heading a major archdiocese or serving in the Roman Curia. Other observers, however, note that no Prefect of the Apostolic Signatura in recent years has served more than one term in office and Cardinal Burke had completed more than a full term, having served in that capacity since 2008. Personally, I think the latter group of observers is rather naive. Could the Vatican really be so tone-deaf as not to recognize that Cardinal Burke's departure from the Apostolic Signature at this particular juncture would be interpreted as a repudiation of his point of view? But then again, maybe I'm naive in thinking that the Vatican, which has a legendary reputation for tone-deafness, would have picked up on this.

The fact is that I have the utmost respect for Cardinal Burke, and particularly for his pastor's heart. He was the Bishop of La Crosse, Wisconsin, when I was a seminarian there after high school. Even after I left the seminary, and after he left to become Archbishop of St. Louis, he would often return to La Crosse for events at the Shrine to Our Lady of Guadalupe that he founded. I would see him frequently in my capacity writing for the diocesan newspaper, and every time we met he would greet me warmly, grasping my hands and smiling; he would ask not only how I was, together with my growing family, but he would also inquire about one of my younger brothers, who happened to have served Mass for him many years before. The man has an amazing memory, and I am guessing that the list of people he prays for by name must be thousands of names long.

Thus, I don't know how to express adequately the distress I feel in reading in the media about the cold-hearted, legalistic Cardinal Burke who stands, frowning, with arms crossed, to block the way of a sympathetic, pastoral Cardinal Kasper. I feel this is a terrible injustice not only Cardinal Burke's person and character, but infinitely more so to the notion that true mercy and charity are always grounded in truth and justice. What the removal of Cardinal Burke from the Apostolic Signatura accomplishes, besides giving pause to those who have vigorously resisted Cardinal Kasper's proposals, is to clear the way for a rash, ill considered reform of the annulment process that would, in the estimation of some prominent canonists, significantly water it down, making it less thorough (in technical terms, removing the requirement that a case be examined by a Court of Second Instance). I don't think I've bought into the conspiracy theories overly much in concluding that somebody had a hand in the non-reconfirmation of Cardinal Burke as Prefect. It's certainly the case that many people of Cardinal Kasper's persuasion--and there are many--are relieved to see him gone.

My hope and prayer, in any case, is that Cardinal Burke keeps preaching the truth in charity in whatever capacity he can. Inspired by his example, in the lead-up to the ordinary synod on the family I'll be doing my best, in my own small way, to follow suit.

Boys!

Home after getting all stitched up.

I was getting a load of laundry out of the washer. I hear the two older boys race past the bathroom door, a moment later a loud smack and then child crying. Clement came into the bathroom holding his hands to his forehead. Blood was seeping between his fingers, so I quickly grabbed a wash cloth and pressed it to his head. Putting him on the couch and laying him down I took a peek. It was fascinatingly gross. He apparently hit the edge of the coffee table and it made nice inch or more slice. It was deep enough to see layers of tissue. Cyprian commented, " you can see his skull." Yeah, I like to try and fix most things if I can, but decided this time we might need to have stitches.

So Clement had seven stitches. Now instead of bringing him back in to have the stitches removed we decided to try ourselves. Franz last night with sterilized scissors and tweezers removed the stitches. There were a few tears. But as I held the flashlight and squeezed Clement's hand it was successfully done. Clement is one brave boy!

Daddy the doctor!

All the stitches gone!

The perfect age!

November 8th my husband celebrated his 33rd birthday. According to him and Thomas Aquinas it is the best age.

The little boys let us sleep a little bit later than usual. I made breakfast from the fruits of Kleinshire. Consisting of our home cured bacon, eggs from our hens, and tomatoes from our garden. It was quite tasty. I also made Franz coffee, don't ask me if I made it right. I don't drink coffee so I have to guess how much to grind and throw in the French press. I made myself a nice pot of tea.

After our lovely breakfast I headed out to pick up a free table from someone and get a few things I needed from the store. Cletus came with me while Cyprian and Clement worked out in the garage with Franz.

I got home from errands just after noon. I suggested we should try the Common Grounds shop for lunch. It is down the road less than two miles from us in Bunn. We have talked about checking it out, having been told it is a nice spot. So, Franz pumped all the tires on the bikes and the trailer. Franz hauled Cyprian and Clement in the trailer while Cletus sat in the toddler seat on my bike. It was a beautiful day cool, clear, with beautiful fall colors.

The Common Grounds is run by a sweet older couple. Well at least the guy is really nice. His wife was not there while we were. They do a lot of fun community things such as karaoke, dart tournaments, hosting gatherings, bands playing music, etc. The set up is cozy and inviting. There is a whole table of toys and a shelf full of board games. Franz and Cyprian learned how to play connect four. Yes, Franz has never played before. He and I faced off and I have to admit he did beat me twice, though I won more games. We ordered the boys hot dogs and ourselves sandwiches. We also got one big peach smoothie and Franz ordered himself a Chai latte. After enjoying our lunch and games we headed back home. Actually, we raced back taking the loop that leads home. Franz led the whole way till the very end. I made a sneaky pass and won the race:')

At home, I got Cletus ready for a nap and tried to rest. Between older boys coming to me to ask me questions and baby Klein being active I had to settle for just trying to relax a bit. Since Cletus was napping I was able to hang laundry and spend a bit of time outside watching animals and hanging with the boys. I collected eggs too.

Then it was time to to start making Franz's birthday dinner. I started by grinding gold'n'white flour. I had a dozen fresh eggs from our hens sitting on the counter to make homemade Angel food.

Angel food cake: Taking a dozen eggs I separated the whites into a mixing bowl. I saved the yolks to fry up for breakfast. Then I whipped up the egg whites with half a cup of organic sugar, putting in some vanilla and almond extract. I also put just over a tsp. of cream of tartar. In a separate bowl was mixed one and a fourth cup of flour with just over a cup of sugar and a dash of salt. After the egg white mixture was beaten to the point where it formed nice peaks. I folded in the flour mixture. Lastly I put the batter in a greased angel food cake pan. I used coconut oil. It was suppose to bake at 350 for 40 minutes or so. Clement was the lucky fellow who got to lick the spoon. Cletus was still asleep and Cyprian was outside with Franz

Now I did this, and halfway through the baking we had a power surge or something that made the power go out in the house for a moment. We have an electric stove. So when the power came back on I thought I turned the oven on. Cletus also woke up at this point due to Clement screaming in terror when the light went off on him in the bathroom. So, I got Cletus and Clement and set them up at the table with paper and washable markers. They were going to make cards for Daddy. I started making my pizza dough. Warm water, yeast, organic sugar, I let it sit a bit. Then adding salt, garlic powder, onion flakes, Italian seasoning, and olive oil. I mixed it all together. Flour was added and kneaded in till a nice dough consistency formed. The big ball of dough was tossed into a bowl covered and left to sit on the warm stove for an hour for raising. Cyprian came in from outside and went to work on his card for Daddy.

I had gotten to this point with the dough mixed and sitting on top of the warm stove. I kept checking the cake and thinking man it is not turning golden on top like it should. It rose beautifully, but still was not finishing. Then it dawned on me. Yep, I thought I had turned the stove back on after the outage, but I had only turned on the stove temperature and had forgotten to press start. Ooops! So a half hour after the outage I turned the stove back on, which at this point was only at 160 degrees temperature.

Hoping a I hadn't ruined the cake, I started cutting up toppings for the two pizzas I was making for supper. I chopped up some bacon I had fried up from breakfast, onions, and black olives. From our garden I chopped green bell peppers, hot peppers, and tomatoes. I then shredded mild and sharp cheddar goat cheese from Wisconsin. Once all the toppings were ready I spread the pizza dough out on pizza stones I went to put my pizza sauce on the crust and threw a bunch all over Clement and myself. No joke, Franz had to carry Clement to the tub while I wiped sauce off the table, chairs, floor, and shoes that happened to be right there. Amazingly I didn't lose it. After desaucing things. I carefully poured pizza sauce onto the crust and spread it. Then I made one pizza for the kids which excluded peppers, and onions. Franz and my pizza had the works. The cake came out of the oven smelling great and having not sunk too much considering the long drawn out baking process. I then proceeded to make an improvised frosting recipe. I used coconut oil with just a pat of butter, whipping it up with regular organic sugar, and adding a bit of vanilla and almond extract. Lastly a dash of goat milk. I kept it in the fridge after thoroughly blending it, to keep till I frosted the cake after supper

First fire in our fireplace!

While I was making the pizza Franz started a fire in the fireplace. This is the first we have used our fireplace. It is a mighty .pleasant thing to have a fireplace! He used wood he had cut up from a tree that had fallen on our fence. The boys were all ecstatic over the fire. So while Franz and the boys were sitting and enjoying the fire I finished up supper preparations and set the table.

Enjoying the fire

Pizza party!

Bonfire!

Quick, put out the fire before the house burns down!

The food smelled so good. It tasted even better. Franz had a fancy bottle of wine. I enjoyed a small cup. But mostly I drank sparkling water. The boys had milk. Once all were satisfied. I got the cake ready. 33 candles is a lot! We lit the small bonfire and we all sang Happy Birthday. We all had cake with vanilla ice cream and strawberries and blueberries, I had taken out of the freezer. Franz opened his present from me and the boys, which was a gun cleaning kit. Yes, I am definitely a country girl and like practical gifts given and received. The boys each gave their card they had made.

Birthday boy with his cake:')

Every gun owner should take care of their gun.

Cyprian's card for Daddy. Notice some pizza sauce....

Clement's card for Daddy. Notice he has a C and d for him and Daddy:')

Cletus's card for Daddy. He is an artist!

Feeling full I went and got bath water for the boys. I took Cletus first as the two older boys were still finishing up. I was undressing Cletus and had just taken off his cloth diaper when I realized he was about to poop. I tried to get him on the toilet but was not fast enough. So our bath mat had to go in the laundry. I washed up Cletus and let him play a bit. I took him out and sent Cyprian and Clement to wash with stern instructions that there was to be no splashing because of Clement's stitches. Amazingly they listened. I got Cletus in his footsie pj's and he played with Daddy by the fireplace. I went and washed Cyprian's hair then sent him out to Franz to get his footsie pj's. I then very carefully washed Clement's hair. After Clement was dressed in pj's, I brushed the boys teeth while Franz put food away.

Then Franz hauled boys on his back crawling on all fours to the bedroom. We eventually got boys into bed and prayed our family rosary. By the end Franz was falling asleep. We headed out of the room after blessing each boy and tucking them in. Cletus was the only one still awake but soon fell asleep.

I was feeling tired too. Instead of cleaning the whole kitchen I stacked the dirty supper dishes into the sink, wiped the stove, table, high chair, and counters down. Then swept the floor. I did not wash dishes which is something I rarely leave, but alas I am not perfect and it was good enough for me to just have all straightened up.

Franz watched the news and fell asleep in his recliner. I watched tv for awhile. Then finally decided that we should head to bed.

It was a beautiful family day overall. Franz even whispered sleepily how much he enjoyed the day and thanked me. I was not able to sleep very well due to baby Klein deciding that it was party time for him/her now that all was quiet. I was very happy and content though and decided to enjoy the active little ones acrobatics while I tried to find a comfortable position to rest.

I love God, my husband, and my boys. It was a blessing to celebrate Franz's birthday in a very family oriented way.

The World According to Cyprian, #20

Cyprian was apparently impressed by his ride in the limo at the recent wedding of our friends, Chris and Elimika. Here are his comments on the requirements for the validity of consent, perhaps a prelude to a more serious post on my part commenting on the recently concluded Extraordinary Synod on the Family:

Cyprian: "You and Mommy are married, right?"

Me: "Yes, you've seen pictures. We got married in a church just like Chris and Elimika did a few weeks ago. There was a ring-bearer, just like you were for their wedding. And the priest witnessed our vows. And there was Mass. And afterward we had a dinner and a party, and we danced just like we did at Chris and Elimika's weddding."

Cyprian: "Did you have a big, long car like we drove in at their wedding?"

Me: "No, we didn't have a limo. We just drove to the reception in my Jeep."

Cyprian: "Then you didn't get married. You need a limo to get married."

Alas, there is no hope for Rosemary and me!

Raising pigs for meat

Shortly after we moved into our first home with a bit of acreage. I had lots of ideas about what we should do with our land. Pigs was one of my projects, as I love bacon and sausage in particular. I hate buying meat from the store since quality is lacking and it is so expensive. So, after discovering an ad on craigslist for piglets at a very reasonable price, I drove and purchased our first two pigs. The person selling them lives only 15 minutes from us. We named the pigs respectively Ham and Bacon. I was very serious about explaining to the boys that the pigs were not pets and that we were going to raise them for meat.

Meat, Ham and Bacon

The actual raising of them of course involved having to secure the fence as they found new ways to escape. Feeding and watering them. We had them in a decent size pen that had forage. They eventually dug up the entire pen area. Wow, I forgot how much digging pigs will do. About a month ago we ended up having to move the pigs from the pen they had been residing in and placed them in a large double stall. The pigs had done some damage to the pen area by digging up so much right by the barn that we had standing water. Franz ended up after they were moved to the stall, having to buy several loads of gravel to fill in the holes.

Being in the stall the pigs were being fattened and finished for processing. Apparently they decided to have their entertainment at the expense of two of my hens lives, and quite possibly one of our kittens. We didn't actually see them eat any animals, besides a snake once. But the evidence pointed to their guilt. As I am missing two hens and their feathers were all over the pigs stall. The kitty had disappeared two weeks before this, and it gave me the sneaking horrible suspicion that is what end our kitty met. For Una our kitty had disappeared a day after they were placed in the stall.

Their diet while in the stall consisted of an all stock feed, bread, hay, pecans acorns, some apples and table scraps. With lots of water.

Butchering day was set for Saturday October 18th. Our helpers were a dad and his two eldest sons and a student from the high school that Franz teaches at. Though it wore me out the day before I went on a cleaning warpath. House, barn, garage, porches, yard, anywhere I could clean. My pregnant body let me know that night that I have not done so much in awhile.

Saturday morning started early. I had a load of cloths to wash and breakfast to make for the crew. Also, I got set up in anticipation of the processing of pigs. After the guys all ate and had their coffee. They watched a video on butchering and discussed what they were going to do. Then it was time, I quickly cleared the table and got all my little guys ready for outside.

You may think it weird, but I wanted to see the butchering. The boys also were very interested in the process. So, with me and the little guys standing outside the barn looking in from the open windows. The big guys let Ham out of the stall. The barn was closed so that Ham could only go into the hall. There was a pile of straw with some bread in the middle. Ham went over to eat the bread and Franz fired the shot. It knocked him down, but then he got back up. Franz ended up taking two more shots. The big guys took Ham down and Franz took a knife to stab the jugular. I have heard a pig scream before, but the scream that Ham let out was loud and piercing. We thought that was it for Ham, so I went in the barn to take some pictures. I looked at Ham and noticed his eyes were still looking around. I just said, "I don't think he is dead" and then he tried to get back up. I squealed and ran back out of the barn. I was holding Cletus and wanted to be no where near a pig that was not dead after being shot and stabbed. Franz took the shotgun and fired once more. The guys wrestled Ham back down and Franz went for the jugular a second time. Thankfully it worked and the blood gushed out. Whew! Not how we pictured it, but the job of killing was done. Now you probably are thinking that is horrible. And to be sure it was, but this was the first time and you have to start somewhere.

The next thing was to wash the hide of Ham. The body was dragged to a cement slab where they hosed and used brushes. Ham never looked so clean as he did after his death. Next the guys started the skinning on the ground. A brace to hang the pig was made off the end of the barn that was in the shade. With a lot of willpower the guys finally got the pig hung. The skinning was finished and then the pig cut in half. The halves were carried to work tables set up in the garage. Then the cutting down took place with pieces of meat being placed in a large tote of cold water to be rinsed.

I cheated for lunch and had bought pizzas to throw in the oven. The guys took turns eating when they could. Franz also made the bladder into a ball for the boys, just like we read in "Little House in the Big Woods."

Now it was my turn. I was the one to pack the meat. I also started cooking the head to make into headcheese. Once the pig was done being cut down, it was time for Bacon to be killed
. Thankfully it was not so traumatic. Though Franz did have to fire three shots, he was able to quickly this time cut the jugular. So then the same process as above was done. Between kids, cleaning, and packing it was long full day. Our friends, the dad and two boys, took half a pig home at the end. The student took a big haunch.

Once the boys were in bed Franz and I commenced to get the last needed work done. Franz finished getting all the odd bits of meat ready for grinding the next day while I made cure for the belly meat and placed the future bacon into zip lock bags to cure in the fridge for a week.

Some how we managed to get it all done and the house was put to rights before we fell exhaustedly into sleep.

Yep, this is my account as well as I can remember it. It was a satisfyingly hard days worth work and harvest. Franz posted all the gory photos. Sorry not going to display them here...

Chickens, round two!

This afternoon we got a head start on the processing of our second round of chickens. We had planned to process all fourteen of them on Saturday, but we were starting to run short of feed. Since these chickens are being raised wholly on organic feed, and since organic feed costs more than $30 per bag, we decided that we had to process at least four today to make it until Saturday with the rest. They're already bigger than expected anyway, coming in at 5.5 to 6.2 pounds. Our target weight was 4-5 pounds.

So, four chickens today gave their life for the greater cause of delicious chicken dinners everywhere.

Rosemary is multi-talented, having the rare ability to smile while cleaning chickens, even while pregnant.

We had to taste-test our product, of course, so the first of those chicken dinners was our own, a repast completed just minutes ago (except by Clement, who has decided that he doesn't like sweet potatoes. Alas, how could this occur in North Carolina?).

Talented mini-cooks!

Thanks to everybody who ordered chickens. I think we're about sold-out at this point. We will have broth/stock for sale soon, probably $3 per quart. Do let us know if you're interested in broth or in chickens the next time around.

Also, just to reiterate, we're still looking for a few regular egg customers who are either interested in picking up the eggs themselves or who are easy to get the eggs to. They will be $3.50/dozen. Non-STMA folks only, as we're trying not to compete with the FFA egg sales.

La boucherie

Within weeks of purchasing Kleinshire, Rosemary was already talking about buying pigs. I was skeptical--I had never dealt with animals that big--but Rosemary had a hankering for bacon and had already begun doing research. Soon enough, she found a deal, and, the next thing I knew, we had two cute little piglets inhabiting one of our holding pens, aptly named Ham and Bacon.

Our two cute little piglets grew rapidly, becoming destructive nuisances who spent the past few weeks locked in a stall to fatten on scraps, stale bakery bread, and all-stock. We even had a big box of pecans from our yard back in Texas to finish them on. Finally, yesterday was the big day. Ham was probably about 200 pounds and Bacon 160. But we had had about enough of the pigs--it was their time. We enlisted the help of one of my students, who has done quite a bit of hunting, and a parishioner, together with his two oldest boys, who shared the costs with us.

The process began by feeding them for the last time on Friday morning. By Saturday, they were making quite a racket. We let Ham out first, enticing him with some bakery buns in a closed barn in case he decided to make a run for it. The idea was to shoot him behind the ear with the .22, aiming for the opposite eye. Stunned, he would drop on the straw, where I would slice his carotid artery while two others spread his front legs.

Alas, "The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men/ Gang aft agley,/ An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,/
For promis'd joy!" the poet Robert Burns has said, and he's right. The first shot gave Ham momentary pause, but he simply grunted, got up, and resumed eating. The second shot dropped him with a little more force, but it took a total of four shots to stun him sufficiently to turn him and grab his legs. 

I made a cut, "us[ing] the breastbone as a fulcrum," just as the butchery book instructed, but suffice it to say that the carotid artery is a little deeper than one might expect. It was a process, involving a few cuts before the real blood began to flow.

In the above picture, Ham is no longer above the straw. He took off, which left us happy that we decided to do this in an enclosed space rather than the yard. We were much more efficient the second time, with Bacon.

Once Ham stopped twitching, we dragged him from the barn to a patch of concrete and scrubbed him down. Eventually we switched to the shade for the skinning of the belly. I hadn't taken into account the sun. We didn't scald and scrub them, as I wasn't overly concerned with getting all the skin and fat, and as it would have been too much work to gather all the necessary supplies. Instead, we turned them over on their bellies and skinned them, as one would a deer, before hoisting them up to finish the skinning and to eviscerate them.

It was quite a process hoisting up the pigs, especially the bigger one. I expected that 200 pounds would go up more easily than it did. I suppose it was a combination of a lot of weight and our desire not to embrace the pig too tightly. In any case, we got the pig up part-way, stuck a table under him, and then hoisted him up the rest of the way. We proceeded with the skinning. Then I opened him up at the top, exposing the body cavity. Closing the anus proved far more difficult than the YouTube videos that I watched. The string that I tied it with kept slipping off. Nonetheless, we kept the evisceration relatively clean.

We kept most of the edible innards--the lungs, the kidneys, the liver, the heart, etc. I also kept the small intestine--all thirty-some feet of it--for making sausage casing. Right now it's partially cleaned and in saltwater in the refrigerator. I'm a bit intimidated by the amount of work that will go into making encased sausages/brats if I continue with that process. After the evisceration, we decapitated the pigs and split them in two using a meat saw. We then carried the carcass halves to the garage to be further broken down.

We ended up keeping both heads, as nobody else wanted them. This morning I finished making head cheese with Ham's head. It's actually a rather simple process. The head needed to be skinned and cleaned. Then Rosemary placed it in a big pot and simmered it late into the night, until the meat started coming off the bones. It was still warm this morning when I picked off the meat and the fat, the brain, etc. I even cut the tongue up into little pieces. Then I brought all these things to a boil, added salt, pepper, and other spices, and placed the concoction into freezer containers to congeal into a dish that is traditionally considered an expensive delicacy. It should be good spread on cornbread.

We had two break-down stations set up in the garage. I had read a butchery book carefully, but it was decidedly harder to discern the different cuts during the actual process. Many of the pieces Rosemary simply labeled as "roast" or "boneless roast."

There were a few parts that we noted appropriately. We have baby-back ribs, spareribs, trotters, loins, etc. Most importantly, I separated off the pork belly. Rosemary made three or four different seasonings, and has the pork belly in plastic bags in the refrigerator, where it will sit for the next week or so while I figure out how to smoke it.

As we finished cuts of meat, we rinsed them and either placed them in the cooler of the family who was taking half a pig or in a container to bring in to Rosemary, who would package and label them. Then they were destined for the freezer.

One diversion after butchering the first pig was blowing up the bladder and making it into a kick-ball, as some of you might recall from Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House in the Big Woods:

"[Pa] was blowing up the bladder. It made made a little white ballon, and he tied the end tight with a string and gave it to Mary and Lauara to play with. They could throw it into the air and spat it back and forth with their hands. Or it would bounce along the ground and they could kick it."

I simply couldn't resist. I remember the scenes from that book vividly from when I read it as a child, and I especially had them in mind because it's one of the books Rosemary and I were reading to Cyprian during the summer months.

Here is Rosemary prepared her meat grinder, which we've never before had the chance to use. She is planning to grind up trimmings and fat for sausage later this afternoon.

Yesterday evening, we couldn't resist taste-testing the fruits of our labor. These are some meaty ribs blazing away on the grill. They tasted great.

Here's Cletus at the work table, waiting for his ribs. The whiskey and the salt were part of one of the bacon recipes that Rosemary used.

Rosemary poses proudly with some of her bacon. We hope it turns out!

While Rosemary washed dishes, I worked late into the night cutting up the trimmings and some fat for our sausage meat. We should have plenty of sausage.

The last items on the table yesterday. Then it was off to bed, with a good night's rest well deserved.