Thursday, December 22, 2016

Christmas Letter, 2016

December, 2016

Dear family and friends,

Every day during this season of Advent, Cyprian, Clement, Cletus, and Chrysogonus eagerly take out the crayons and construction paper to make new ornaments for their Jesse Tree. And each week, they look forward to lighting another candle on the wreath. Forgetting for a moment the endless scraps of construction paper, the messy piles of crayons, and the squabbles over whose ornament is better and who stole what from whom; taking a deep breath after the youngest is found in the vicinity of the wreath striking matches; in sum, embracing the crazy imperfection of family life: This is the spirit of Advent as it exists in the Klein household. Prayers for you and yours, that you are also able to mark this special season in your own home, crazy or quiet, as the case may be.

Family Picture, from Cyprian's First Holy Communion in May

This year we’ve managed, for our part, the monumental task of keeping the house from burning down. More seriously, it’s been a year with its share of difficulties, especially with Rosemary suffering through three miscarriages. We now have four little ones living in God’s embrace: Cosmas James, Anastasia May, Andrew Joseph, and Agatha June. For all the struggles, though, it has also been a year filled with God’s blessings: Franz is still teaching and coaching at St. Thomas More Academy, where this fall his boys’ cross country team was the private schools state runner-up, and Rosemary oversees our own Little Flowers Homeschool, where both Cyprian and Clement are now tackling schoolwork in earnest. This May marked Cyprian’s First Holy Communion, and both Clement and Cletus are attending a Montessori “Good Shepherd” catechesis program. Chrysogonus has an ever-increasing vocabulary and an impetuous laugh. In the midst of it all, Rosemary finally earned her Taekwondo black belt in September after working at it determinedly during the past three years that we’ve called North Carolina home.

Busy as all that sounds, it won’t compare to the coming year. Many of you already know our news--that we are moving back to Wisconsin. Four years in Texas and four in North Carolina, and now we’re coming home to our beloved home state, only three miles from the rented farmhouse from which we left  back in 2009 with an overloaded Ford Taurus hauling a construction trailer. Specifically, we will be moving to the Korish homestead near Cashton, St. Jude’s Acres, with Rosemary’s parents building a brand new house on a small parcel of land that they carved off for themselves. The big move will occur in just a few months, at Easter. Then Franz will return to North Carolina to finish up the school year and, with God’s help, sell the house in time to return for the spring planting season.

It’s a big transition not just in terms of geography but also occupation, as we are planning to start farming in earnest. This past summer Franz was back in Wisconsin fencing a pasture for our growing herd of meat goats (who will make the trip from North Carolina to Wisconsin in a 16-ft. livestock trailer that we purchased). Then in late October Rosemary flew back to Wisconsin, with Cletus and Chrysogonus in tow, to plant our first crop of garlic. We will file the application for organic certification at the beginning of the new year, and, God willing, this spring a good portion of the tillable acreage will be planted with some sort of crop to sell to Organic Valley. We are also considering the possibility of raising Thanksgiving turkeys, selling produce in La Crosse CSA-style, etc. Really, we’re open to anything that provides an income stream.

Prayers are definitely appreciated as we make this transition. We know that the first year will be very difficult financially, as at first the goats and the garlic are break-even propositions at best. We are realistic enough to know that farming won’t pay all the bills, especially at first. But we also know that Franz holding a full-time job would make running a full-time farming operation nearly impossible. So, pray that we make the right decisions in considering the range of possibilities--adjunct teaching, freelance writing for Franz, which both worked well during our time in Dallas; possibly a return to nursing work for Rosemary; really, anything that the Lord might provide. Pray, too, that the means become available to purchase a tractor, a cultivator, and haying equipment. Please, pray that we don’t become discouraged in what is sure to be a challenging first few years.

We send this letter with a promise of prayers for you and yours during this time of preparation for Christmas. We look forward to reconnecting with many of you with the move back to Wisconsin. As was the case when we left Dallas, we are again sad to leave behind so many dear friends. We will always treasure you in our hearts. Please stay in touch!

God Bless,

Franz, Rosemary, Cyprian, Clement, Cletus, and Chrysogonus

Chrysogonus' first birthday

Cyprian after First Holy Communion with Fr. Phil Tighe, our pastor, who has since become vocations director

Praying for vocations at Compline, with the traveling chalice from our parish

Fresh fish from Crooked Creek, a half mile walk down Cheves Rd.
Rosemary's first-ever fish. Really!


Cyprian at the 4-County 4-H Livestock Show this fall with one of our young meat goats


St. Thomas More Academy, CIC Conference Champions (boys & girls), NCISAA state runners-up (boys)

A bountiful harvest from our garden this year.

All the veggies we can eat.

Our beloved Cardinal Burke visited St. Catherine's in Wake Forest last December.
Some of our dairy goats enjoying the front pasture.
We had all the pork we could eat this past year.  
Cyprian putting his 4-H premium to good use, investing in one of the batches of meat chickens we raised.


Rosemary, after years of effort, finally earned her first-degree black belt in Taekwondo. 


Boys and fireworks: an explosive combination.

Chrysogonus checking out his haircut after losing his baby curls.

Fun at the N.C. State Fair


Christmas cookies!


Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Black belt



September 17th, 2016, I tested for my black belt. One requirement was writing a essay about my journey....


My Martial Arts, Journey
By: Rosemary Klein

First, I come from what would be considered a large family. I have five brothers and five sisters, and I am the ninth child of eleven. As fortune would have it, I was born in the middle of three of my brothers. Two came right before me, and my baby brother after me. As a young girl I was very much a sidekick to my brothers schemes and adventures, although to some I might have seemed like a quiet shy and reserved child. If you were to see me in my comfort zone, I would, have been a competitive scrapper and determined not to be left behind. Being a younger child I was also sassy, even if my older siblings were the bosses. For me being a part of a large family taught me many things I still use to this day.

It began in the fall of 2003. My baby sister dragged me and two of my older sisters to a TaeKwonDo class. It was held in a little Christian school near Viroqua WI. When we arrived there were just two people: the instructor and his faithful brown belt student. I recall the instructor looking at my long sleeve shirt and saying, “you are going to lose that long sleeve shirt.” He meant that I would not want to have such heavy clothing, he was right because he worked us until we felt we couldn’t possibly do one more thing.

From that first class to the last class I was pushed. I had a love/hate relationship with my instructor and class. Through the sweat, bruises, and one time a broken toe and another time black eye, I was never let to give up. I was pushed over and over. It was a good thing, as it kept me out of trouble and taught me some values that I still hold dear. The class was not formal in that we were not required to wear a uniform. We had to wear appropriate workout attire and our belts, bowing and showing respect to rank was highly stressed. It was not traditional TaeKwonDo; I would call it more of a mixed martial arts. There was the definite TaeKwonDo aspect with Korean terminology, but also a strong focus on Hapkido (self defense, grabs, knives etc.). Ground work was incorporated, together with Jiu Jitsu (learning to defend yourself from on the ground, wrestling), and even sometimes on the side working with sticks. That first fall I started TaeKwonDo, in December the brown belt tested for his black belt. My sister and baby brother and I were at the testing and helped where we could. It was intense. The instructor did not stop the test until the brown belt had given his all. The next year the new black belt gradually became our Instructor.  

The year 2008, I got married in May to my honey. I ended up becoming pregnant right away. Although I was supposed to test for my Brown belt I decided to wait to test as I was nervous about my first pregnancy. I continued to go to class throughout my pregnancy. My first instructor would come when he could. Otherwise, the first degree black belt taught the class. I had my wonderful firstborn son in January of 2009. After a bit of a rough recovery I went back to class. Throughout my six years with this class, there were many who started. But when I stopped I was the only one including from my family who had stuck with it.

The fall of 2009 my husband and I made a big move to Texas. My husband was going to school for his doctorate at the University of Dallas. For the next four years we lived in Texas, my husband working hard to support us while also going to school full time. I was a Stay-at-home mom with Cyprian our son. Eventually we had two more sons, Clement and Cletus, in that four-year period. At one point I joined a gym and did some training with a street fighter because I had been missing my TaeKwonDo. I kept telling myself I was going to get back to it and get my black belt. I have many fond memories of our time in Texas, but I still missed martial arts.  

The summer of 2013 saw us move to Wake Forest NC. My husband landed a great job as a teacher in Raleigh. In the fall some friends told us about the TaeKwonDo class held through Wake Forest Recreation. So, the beginning of October 2013 I attended my first class. At that time there were two classes, beginner and advanced. The beginner class was all kids, and I felt a bit funny working with all the “young-uns.” I was able to catch on quickly because of my previous experience, but I will say my patience was tested. Having to answer to someone younger than you is humbling. I also fought the indignation I felt at starting back at a white belt. Yes, I have pride, and sometimes it is a good lesson to have it checked. Having to wear a uniform was also a change. But I came to realize the uniform gives us solidarity.

Master Ray was always welcoming, and Mrs. Felton very kind and helpful. I was quickly allowed to attend both classes back-to-back. I tested for my first belt in Sun Yi’s Academy in November 2013. April 2014 I attended my first ever martial art tournament. It was fun, and I wouldn’t mind doing so again in the future. I tested every testing after that except one I had to skip for having my fourth son in February 2015.

I went back to class in March 2015. It was after my second class back from giving birth to my fourth son Chrysogonus that a very serious and frightening accident happened. I was bringing my four week old son with me to class. A sweet grandma to one of the students kindly offered to hold my son during class. It was after class that I had just finished nursing my son. A father to four boys, two of them students at the time, asked to hold my son. I handed him my baby. What happened was an accident, but to this day I still sometimes have nightmares. A few minutes after holding Chrysogonus the man dropped him. Chrysogonus landed on his forehead on the hardwood floor. My wonderful friend and fellow student from TaeKwonDo considerately drove me and my son to the emergency room. It was discovered that Chrysogonus did in fact have a fractured skull, and it was a harrowing night.

Chrysogonus since has recovered well, and is an enjoyable amazing little mischievous man. The reason I am sharing this is that it made me almost quit TaeKwonDo. I fell apart from the stress and worry of what happened. By the grace of God and support of so many loving people in my life, especially my husband and family, I was able to come back a month later. Though I was back in class it took me several months to not have overwhelming recurring bad memories. Then November of 2015 I tested for my black-with white-stripe belt.

All in all through the ups and downs of what we call life, I have been so thankful to have martial arts as a part of my life. It is a beautiful feeling when you know you did something well. I still have much to learn and that in-and-of-itself is the beauty of practicing martial arts. It does not ever get old. It has been a journey with some very tough challenges, but also great rewards. I am not planning on stopping the journey, but hoping and striving to fulfill a long time dream of proudly wearing a black belt. This includes living the tenets, courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and indomitable spirit.

I have many people to thank for my journey: My husband, who truly is my rock and whom I love more than I can ever put into words;  my awesome four boys, who fill my days with love, laughs, craziness, and tears; all of my family, Dad, Mom, my siblings, and extended family who made me a fighter (in a good way) early on;  my instructors Mr. Hanson, Mr. Lamb, Mr. Ray, Mrs. Felton and Master Berger for all their time, effort, and instruction, because each Instructor has given me something that I will carry with me through life; my friends who have encouraged and watched my boys, helping me in my pursuit of Martial arts; all the students who I have worked alongside and with; Grand Master Sun Yi for giving us a Martial art family; and most of all God for giving me the ability and will to work for this moment.

Here is a link, if it works, of parts from my black belt test. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXlalMMvCFs
Shortly before leaving to go to my black belt test.

My official black belt with my name on it:')

Sunday, November 6, 2016

Why Rosemary and I will be voting for neither Clinton nor Trump

I don't think that Rosemary and I would be revealing anything new to most of you with the observation that, for faithful Catholics, this year's presidential election is something of a moral quandary. Perhaps Archbishop Charles Chaput of Philadelphia put it best, citing the words of a friend of his, that this year's choices are either a "vulgar, boorish lout and disrespecter of women, or a scheming, robotic liar with a lifelong appetite for power and an entourage riddled with anti-Catholic bigots."
Rosemary and I attending a McCain rally in La Crosse in 2008 during
a happier election cycle, when we believed in a candidate enough
to be enthusiastic about his candidacy.

Indeed, both Rosemary's and my Facebook news feeds are increasingly filled with comments and article "shares" from friends who've come to wildly varying conclusions. For various reasons, some are voting for Trump, others for Clinton, and still others for one of the plethora of third-party candidates. Still others have prayed long and hard about the matter and have concluded that they will not vote for anybody at all--including me and Rosemary.

Why a whole blog post to explain what turns out to be a non-endorsement? Well, it came down to the sting of an email that both of us received last night. The sender of this email claimed that a priest had said from the pulpit that, in a situation like the present presidential election, a Catholic has the moral duty to vote for the "lesser of the two evils." 

The priest's words--if indeed they were really said as reported--stung for couple of reasons. The first is the directness of the priest's comments, as there is no doubt from the context that he was saying that a good Catholic must vote for Trump, leaving little room for such conscientious objectors like me and Rosemary. Does that make us unfaithful Catholics? Sinners and imperfect in more ways than we can count, most certainly; me and Rosemary unfaithful Catholics, most certainly not. But the second reason is even more fundamental: it is utterly false that a Catholic ever, in any circumstance whatsoever, has the moral duty to commit, or even to participate in, an evil action, no matter how the lesser evil stands in relation to another possible greater evil.

The example that I use in the philosophy class that I teach often involves a hostage situation--certainly a familiar trope from any number of action thrillers--where the hostage taker, with his hand on the detonator, threatens to blow up a building with a large number of people in it unless you kill just a single individual. The death of a single person, of course, is the lesser of the two evils, and one could easily make the argument that killing that single individual would be a vastly better outcome than the death of all the people in that building. 

If my students object--rightly, I might add--that they would never pull the trigger, then I make the example more extreme: What if that one person whom you kill to save all those people is himself a seasoned criminal, perhaps even a despotic dictator like Josef Stalin or a mass murderer like Ted Bundy? What if there are a hundred people in that building, including members of your own family? What if there are a thousand people in that building? Or a hundred thousand? As much as our instinct is to pull the trigger, the Catholic Church has never taught that one is morally obligated to commit any evil, no matter the proportion of good that could come of it. The ends do not justify the means. Sure, the Church in plenty of magisterial documents speaks of the toleration of a lesser evil, but never of the commission of that evil. 

What does this mean in regard to the presidential election? The implication is that, translating Archbishop Chaput into softer language, both Trump and Clinton are poor choices, and both have significant liabilities that could result in evils in which, by our vote for either one, we could become complicit. For Clinton, one could go on and on about everything from her intention to stack the Supreme Court to protect Roe versus Wade to her clearly stated intention to further limit religious freedoms. For Trump, there is his oft-repeated promise to "deport them all" with no respect to families or lives already built in this country, or his alarming foreign policy that may or may not involve the use of U.S. firepower in ways that would bring about the deaths of many thousands of innocents in the Middle East and that could earn us animosity and lead to further terrorist attacks. Further in regard to Trump, a vote in his favor may make one complicit in any number of the terrible things his clearly impulsive nature may very well bring about if he is granted executive power.

Of course, the immediate response of any one of our friends voting for Trump--or even for Clinton simply to keep Trump out of office--is that they intend the potential good that their respective candidate may bring about, not the potential evil.

That's precisely why the "lesser of two evils" argument is such an unCatholic way to think of it. The Catholic who is struggling with these two very poor choices--and who, apart from guileless campaign operatives, does not describe them otherwise--is the "principle of double effect." This is the principle--to use another example from my philosophy class--that permits life-saving medical treatment for a pregnant mother even when it may be harmful, or even deadly, to her unborn child. The idea is that the treatment is carried out with the intention of saving the mother's life, not with the intention of terminating the unborn child's life. For this reason, treatments that directly attack the unborn child--for example, the use of the powerful chemical methotrexate to dissolve a living embryo implanted in a woman's fallopian tube instead of in her uterus--would not be permitted because the death of the child would become the primary, rather than the unintended secondary, effect.

This is not just a matter of semantics. Yes, the doctor knows that he is indirectly bringing about the death of the unborn child through his actions, say in starting chemotherapy treatment in favor of the mother, but he winces, and he dreads the decision that he has to make, doing his best, if his conscience is sensitive, to focus on the good that he directly intends and effects, and that is at least proportionately as great, one hopes even greater, than the bad.

This act of weighing primary versus secondary effects has to be the way that any Catholic who chooses either Trump or Clinton thinks about the matter. Does Trump's likely vastly superior pro-life selection for the Supreme Court outweigh the further carnage he may bring about in the Middle East, or does it outweigh the way that he is going to tear lives apart if he is successful in deporting millions of people who've formed productive, stable lives here in the U.S.? Conversely, does the fact that Clinton can only do so much to destroy the moral fiber of our country in four short years through her Foundation cronyism and vigorous support of Planned Parenthood's agenda outweigh the secondary, unintended, entirely regrettable effect of her Supreme Court pick--or maybe even picks, given the ages of some of the justices--who will legislate from the bench for decades in furthering the progressive, secularist agenda?

Surely this is the way our serious-minded friends, regardless of their political bent, are thinking about their unpalatable choices this year. Put metaphorically, they're holding their noses and closing their eyes to the secondary effect, just like the doctor does in starting chemotherapy to save the life of the mother.

And far be it from me and Rosemary to condemn these noble efforts. They are not like the action thriller hero who ends up directly committing the smaller evil action of shooting the despotic dictator to prevent the greater evil of the deaths of a building full of thousands of innocents. The ends don't justify the means, and shame on any priest who implies that they do. Rather, our serious-minded friends who end up pulling the lever for Trump or Clinton--well, perhaps more the former than the latter, but that's the topic for another post--are like the doctor who starts chemotherapy--or rather, like the mother who okays it in order to save her own life. They do not intend the evil that their candidate may do, but for whatever reason they find the potential good to outweigh the potential bad, and they choose the former and close their eyes and hold their noses towards the latter.

But in my philosophy class, I also distinguish between ordinary and heroic virtue. Specifically, I bring up the example of St. Gianna Beretta Molla, the 20th century Italian mother and physician who declined live-saving cancer treatment in order to save the life of her unborn child. It's no accident, as I reflect on this example, that my Facebook news feed includes pictures of a few friends who recently spent time with the very child who owes her life to the heroic choice of her mother. Certainly the Catholic Church did not require St. Gianna to refrain from undergoing chemotherapy. Certainly she could have focused on the primary effect of saving her own life, and there would have been nothing morally culpable or blameworthy in that choice, even if saving her own life sadly led to the death of her unborn daughter.

Likewise, far be it from us to disrespect the choice of one friend, for example, who said that he is voting for Trump in order to keep Clinton from being elected, because he knows that if Clinton is elected she will change the Supreme Court in such a way that Roe vs. Wade will not be overturned in our lifetime. But for our own part, we cannot look at Trump, that vulgar, inconstant, boorish lout, that disrespecter of human dignity feminine or otherwise, who may or may not do what he says, depending how much time he's spent on Twitter, and give him our seal of approval.

Likewise, we are far from disrespecting the choice of another friend, who will be voting for Trump in North Carolina in order to keep the electoral college balanced between Trump and Clinton, and who is hoping that Utah will go for Evan McMullin, in order to force the 12th amendment into play when neither majority-party candidate receives 270 electoral votes. Nor do we disrespect the forward-looking choice of another friend to vote for Jill Stein in the hopes that a third-party candidate will break the 5-percent popular vote minimum for federal funding in the next presidential election. But for our own part, in the first instance the likelihood is far too low and its occurrence may even incite violence, and in the second instance the potential good of a third-party bringing about reform just isn't commensurate to the resulting evil.

For me and Rosemary, we simply can't do it. Don't get me wrong--we're not professing to be morally superior people, or to be possessors of heroic virtue of the likes of St. Gianna. But we will stand our ground against the sting of the priest's supposed comments. First of all, our position is carefully thought out and prayed about, and any priest worth his salt, any Catholic layperson of prayer, would be willing to accept and respect our conscientious choice. And secondly, our choice not to signal our support for either vastly imperfect candidate and his/her problematic agenda is well within the Catholic tradition--ramifications (i.e., the election of the worst of two terrible candidates) be damned. We will do our part, and we'll let God figure out the rest.




Wednesday, August 17, 2016

Hill Ridge Farm

So we started school on Monday. After just two days of doing school, we decided that it was time for an outing. Yep, that is right: one of the home school bonuses. You can be flexible with your schedule and work out some fun days when the mood strikes.

My eldest two have been to Hill Ridge Farm with friends before. For me and the youngest two it was a new adventure. Now, normally we would not go to something like a theme park farm. In part this is because of the cost. In part, the fact is that we already live on a farm, and we can go to parks with slides and swings for free.

But I will admit that we had a glorious time from kiddos figuring out how to get through a maze, to feeding the large catfish, turtles, and ducks in the pond. My boys weren't really interested in the goats and rabbits (apparently they are too used to seeing them at home:'). Then there was playing in the corn house (which is a house filled with over a foot of loose corn). It is amazing how much time was spent throughout our stay in the corn house. The boys loved burying each other, making a monster pile, and just swimming in corn. Then there was sliding down a long plastic tube in the side of a hill siting on a piece of burlap sack. The tubing for the slide is corrugated, so as you zoomed down squealing there is a vibrating echo. I know this experience from growing up. But now I was the only grown up using the excuse of having to go down the long slide with a kiddo. I am so totally a kid at heart. One bonus of being heavier is that you definitely go faster! Next the kids hit the bouncing pillow. This is one large blow up bounce pad. The splash pad was a great way to cool off.

Then the friends that we had come with needed to leave. But my boys were not ready to leave. So we headed to the hay house. Each boy got on a hay mound and then proceeded to wage war on each other. The boys then hit the long tube swing. At one point we had all of us on the long straight tube swing. I sat astride holding onto Chrysogonus. We had it going, I think, as fast and high as it can go. We were definitely getting some stares. The older three boys enjoyed sliding down the blow up water slide. Cyprian took Cletus with him on the tube slide and water slide. Cyprian would wrap his arm around Cletus and say, "Go!" Part of Cyprian's enthusiasm stemmed from realizing that the heavier you are the faster you go. Still, it was really quite sweet to see the two smiling and giggling as they raced down. After numerous bathroom breaks and eating all kinds of snacks that I thankfully had packed, I decided that it was getting to be time to leave. We ended up going through everything again just to get one more thrill. And after bouncing in the barn house and going through maze backwards (well, at least Cletus did), reluctantly the boys and I made our exit.

Last of all, I proudly gathered the boys together and set them up for a photo to commemorate our day. This was no easy feat. Cyprian was the only one tall enough to reach the hole. I put Chrysogonus standing on his stroller (I kept having to convince him to stay up). Both Clement and Cletus had to be hung several times to reach the hole.

So here you have it, folks: The foursome Kleins after their glorious day at Hill Ridge Farm, in a sequence of photos that demonstrates well how hard it is to take a picture with four little boys. I would have joined the photo and become the pig, but alas there was no one around to take the picture:')



Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Some reflections on Virgil's Georgics

In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, farmers--at least those farmers who could read--spent their Sunday afternoons reading from either the Bible or from Virgil's Georgics. That farmers read from the Bible is probably not too surprising. But while the Georgics might be a surprising choice for farmers in terms of its antiquity, it certainly wasn't surprising in terms to its subject: which is, of course, agriculture. It's a little shamefacedly, in fact, that I admit never actually having read through the entire work. I thought that it was finally time to address this lacuna, and so I set about doing so these past few weeks.

And what did I think? Like Virgil's Aeneid--which, I hasten to add, I have read--the Georgics is masterfully, beautifully written. The Georgics isn't simply idyllic and agricultural either. I found that there is a purposefulness to its narrative, with the pastoral beauty and orderliness of the cultivated countryside set against troubling civil unrest and general human dissipation. 

As much as Virgil sings of Bacchus, the "Father of the wine-press," for

all things here
Teem with the bounties of thy hand; for thee
With viny autumn laden blooms the field,
And foams the vintage high with brimming vats

that much Virgil also laments that "Bacchus even to crime hath prompted..." Virgil decries that the bountiful fruits of the cultivated land lead man

with havoc [to fall]
Upon a city and its hapless hearths,
From gems to drink, on Tyrian rugs to lie;
This hoards his wealth and broods o'er buried gold;
One at the rostra stares in blank amaze;
One gaping sits transported by the cheers,
The answering cheers of plebs and senate rolled
Along the benches: bathed in brothers' blood
Men revel, and, all delights of hearth and home
For exile changing, a new country seek
Beneath an alien sun.  

The tension of the Georgics, I think, is between the abundance that comes from hard work and the dissipation that seems inevitably to follow from the enjoyment of that abundance, both in the life of a single man and evidently in the life of an entire society. 

In the last book, in contrast to man's inconstancy, Virgil praises the work of the bees, calling their honey "clear-strained nectar sweet," the "gift from heaven." He lauds their orderliness and the abundance they produce, all the while managing to maintain their stoic discipline as opposed to the vacillating, inconstant efforts of man. Human dynasties rise and fall, but for the bees 


Yet deathless doth the race endure, and still
Perennial stands the fortune of their line,
From grandsire unto grandsire backward told.

Of course, my favorite section is where Virgil talks about the work of the shepherd, for nothing symbolizes imminent pastoral disorder better than the capricious behavior of "pestering goats," among other creatures. Virgil's sage advice:

Hedges too must be woven and all beasts
Barred entrance, chiefly while the leaf is young
And witless of disaster.

The word very word "capricious" is derived from caper, capri, Latin for "goat," and Virgil writes regarding the "venom-bite/ Of their hard teeth, whose gnawing scars the hard stem":

For no offence but this to Bacchus bleeds
The goat at every altar...
*******
Therefore to Bacchus duly will we sing
Meet honour with ancestral hymns, and cates
And dishes bear him; and the doomed goat
Led by the horn shall at the altar stand,
Whose entrails rich on hazel-spits we'll roast.

Indeed, I can identify. But I can also identify with Virgil's rhapsodizing over goats' "plenteous store of milk" and their "plump udders clogged":


The more each dry-wrung udder froths the pail,
More copious soon the teat-pressed torrents flow.

And again,


What they milk at dawn,
Or in the daylight hours, at night they press;
What darkling or at sunset, this ere morn
They bear away in baskets- for to town
The shepherd hies him- or with dash of salt
Just sprinkle, and lay by for winter use.

Ultimately, I suppose, Virgil is saying that the order that we impose on nature through agricultural endeavors, and the abundance that results, is always in danger of impending disaster, not so much from the the capriciousness of nature--be it weather, disease, or the ravaging of goats--as from the capriciousness of ourselves.

"This law of life... by the bees obeyed," in other words, is not always something we ourselves obey.

So, the Georgics is a good read, a meditation on free-will and the inconstancy of human beings ever caught between the enjoyment of our "rich acres" and "poverty's shrewd push." I highly recommend it!







Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Chicken available immediately--please share

Dear Raleigh-area friends, 

Due to the extreme heat forecast for the next several days, we are processing our organic, free-range broiler chickens today, ahead of our planned schedule. This is an act of faith, as we do not currently have freezer space for these 21 chickens. 

As I write, at least a dozen are still available, and we will be putting them on ice in the short term. Even if you haven't purchased from us before, please consider trying us out. At $4.25/lb., I know they're not cheap, but it's actually a reasonable price for free-range, organic chicken that comes from a small, family farm rather than from an oversized factory farm. 

We also have available cucumbers, free-range eggs, and goat milk. Kleinshire is located at 879 Cheves Rd., Zebulon, just a mile from Bunn. 

Text to make sure that chicken is still available before leaving: (919) 780-7864. In your generosity, PLEASE CONSIDER PASSING THIS MESSAGE ON TO OTHERS WHO MIGHT BE INTERESTED. 

Thank you, and God bless... 

Franz and Rosemary Klein

UPDATE (7/8): Thank you, everybody, who responded. We were able to sell all the chickens right away. Stay tuned, as we'll have more available in the fall!

Friday, July 1, 2016

First Thoughts on our new "Simple Pulse" milker

We've been milking the old fashioned way since we bought our first three Nigerian does "in milk" back in the spring of 2014. For about nearly as long, I've been wondering how easy milking would be with a milking system of some kind. Rosemary and I have investigated different possibilities, reading many opinionated blog posts from different folks. A week ago, I finally swallowed deeply and paid $570 plus shipping and handling for the "Simple Pulse Professional Home Milking System."


The "Simple Pulse" is a pretty cool concept, the brainchild of a husband and wife who have a goat farm on the West Coast. It consists of a vacuum pump to create suction, together with a vacuum chamber and a pulsator. One hose is connected from the vacuum chamber to the milk jar to create suction and draw the milk in. Another hose is connected from the pulsator to the two teat "inflations" in order to draw the milk from the goat's udder into another hose leading back to the jar.

In theory, milking is as simple as cleaning the goat's teats, turning on the suction pump, attaching the inflations to the teats, and watching the milk flow into the jar. And indeed, as soon as I figured out how to put everything together, it worked exactly as promised. After three milkings, the goats seem to have accepted the contraption. We are getting about the same about of milk as we were by hand-milking, maybe even a little more.


So, my first thoughts are kudos to the couple who contrived to put together this milking system. It's a nifty contraption that works as promised. My understanding is that it's as good or better than most everything "hobby-farm sized" on the market, and certainly better than more cheaply priced options. That said, there are a few "cons" that I thought I'd put out there for anybody who is considering making a similar purchase:


  • The milker increases in value the more goats that you milk. Although I'll probably save some time once I get more used to it, at present it actually takes me a little longer to use the milker than it would to milk by hand. This is with milking two full-sized goats and one Nigerian. In essence, the hold-up is cleaning the lines after milking is finished. This involves, at a minimum, running some soapy water and then some plain water through the lines and hanging them up to dry. It doesn't sound like much, but it is time consuming, especially without a milk house. I'm actually thinking of storing the milker until we have more goats "in milk," as I'm not confident that its benefits outweigh the inconvenience of daily cleaning and storage.
  • There is also an inconvenience for anybody who milks both full-sized and dwarf-sized goats. Since we have two full-sized goats in milk, I elected to purchase inflations for larger teats. Our one Nigerian who is "in milk," however, is a first-freshener with very small teats. Although I can attach the inflations, they won't draw out all the milk. This means that I have to finish milking her by hand. And unless I wanted to bring out the filter system that we use for hand-milking, the best I can do is give the rest of the Nigerian's milk to the cats. "Simple Pulse" also sells Nigerian-sized inflations, but I imagine that it would be inconvenient at best to switch inflation sizes mid-milking.
  • Finally, I'm still a little intimidated by the vacuum pump due to the oil mist that it emits as it runs. Already, the oil level has gone down somewhat, and I've had to order more oil. At $11 per quart, it might not be a huge amount of money, but add the electricity to that, and consider that milking by hand simply involves burning some calories while developing stronger hand muscles, and then it all starts to add up.




In no way is this a negative review. The "Simple Pulse" is a nifty little machine, and even if I end up packing it away for another day when we have more goats "in milk," I'm impressed by what I've observed so far.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Fathers' Day bittersweetness

This post is a hard one for me to write, but an important one.

Franz and Cyprian left for Wisconsin at 5 am. on June 14th to work on the fenceline at my parents' farm. Driving our farm truck, they had a little delay in Virginia when the truck tire went flat. There was a nail in the tire. This is the fifth time we have had a nail in a tire, again likely due to my boys and their building projects out in the driveway. Thankfully it worked out that there was a shop close by, and the tire got fixed. With them driving straight through all the way to Wisconsin, I got a text around 2 am. on Tuesday that Franz and Cyprian had made it safely to Grandpa Klein's.

Just ten minutes before that I had received a text from my dear friend that her mother with cancer had died at the hospice center. It was a night that I spent in prayer and meditating.

All was going well at Kleinshire. The boys and I were keeping busy with chores and projects. I weeded a lot of the garden. I pulled out all the posts and stakes from the peas and mowed down the section of the garden that was done and overgrown with weeds. I took to cleaning the side of the garage where brush and leaves and random things had collected. I felt good, and I was drinking plenty of water.

Thursday night June 16th in the evening I started to have a pounding headache. I put the boys to bed early and went myself. I woke up with out the headache but I was starting to bleed. The Saturday before Franz left I had taken a pregnancy test and it was positive. I felt things were not quite right. So I got in touch with my midwife. At that point we determined that I had a threatened miscarriage. So, I was suppose to take it easy.

That in-and-of-itself was an overwhelming thought. I had a box of cucumbers and heads of cabbage sitting on our table that I had just picked from our garden. I was going to make dill pickles and raw sauerkraut. I stood staring at the box after getting off the phone with a friend who also advised me to take it easy. Realizing how much I wanted our baby to be okay I started trying to figure out what I was going to do. I had the boys watch some TV. Then while Chrysogonus napped I also tried to rest. I had some spotty bleeding and a little clotting but nothing real heavy. I got in touch with our friends who are our farm helpers when we are away. I asked them if they could do the all the animal chores, while I did just the milking of the goats. They sweetly and quickly agreed. Then the next morning Saturday another wonderful person and her son came out to play all morning with the boys, so I could rest. That evening I had been invited to a Moms' Evening Out. I felt that it might be a good idea to go and relax and enjoy an evening out with other moms. I already had a babysitter lined up. So, my sweet babysitter was dropped off by her mother, and I explained to them what was happening.

I went and had a very enjoyable evening. Next day again after asking for some help with kiddos while going to Mass I had more wonderful people and friends offer help. When I finally arrived home after running some errands, I called Franz to talk. I had to cut our conversation short because I was feeding the boys a late lunch and they were grumpy and starting to fight. After tucking Chrysogonus in for a nap, I took a pregnancy test, and it was negative. Now, up to this point over the last week I had taken four different test and they all had been positive. It hit me so hard seeing the the negative test. I maybe cry once or twice a year. Well, I started balling. I called my Mom, who told me I should call Franz.

I had been trying so hard to be strong, and now I felt completely beat. It took a bit, but I finally got to talk to Franz. I told him he needed to come home. Meanwhile shortly after getting off the phone with Franz, the friend who had come Saturday morning with her son called and asked if I wanted company. It was a God send. She came with her mother who had been a nurse. They watched and entertained the boys while I milked goats and tried to rest. I was emotional, and I was dreading the idea of spending a night alone without knowing what was happening. I finally with encouragement made the decision to go to the emergency room. This was because at this point I was not feeling well, I had a terrible headache and nausea, and my shoulders hurt. I had had an ectopic pregnancy after Cyprian and before having Clement. So, I was concerned about a possible ectopic pregnancy.

The awesome friends agreed to follow me to Wake Forest, where other friends had graciously agreed to keep the boys overnight while I went to the emergency room. The friend who followed me with her mom, dropped her mother off and drove with me to North WakeMed, staying with me the whole time and lending her wonderful presence and support.

Franz and Cyprian were catching a ride first with my brother and his family from my parents' farm to Madison. In Madison Franz's brother drove Franz and Cyprian to Chicago, so that they could catch an early morning flight out.

In the emergency room it was determined that I had already miscarried. There was nothing retained, and so I was free to go home. So, at 1 a.m. my friend and I headed to her place, which was not far from where the boys were staying. The boys were asleep, so I decided to stay at my friends till the boys woke up in the morning and then go pick them and my van up.

Again the awesome friend followed me and the boys home. She stayed and played with the boys while I again milked goats and tried to rest with Chrysogonus at nap time. This same friend when Franz and Cyprian were close to arriving at the airport went and picked them up.

Now that Franz and Cyprian are home I am trying to process the loss of our little baby. This time has showed me many blessings through all the worry, anxiety, and sorrow. I pray God blesses those who have showered us with prayers, love, and kindness.

I believe our miscarried baby is a girl, and we have named our little one Anastasia May Klein. Now we have two angel babies. So, as hard it is, I am thankful for another little one in our family tree.

Being a Father takes a strong man. I am thankful for my husband and his presence. It was a bittersweet Fathers' Day for us.


Tuesday, June 14, 2016

The wind down of our first official school year and a road trip for a wedding in WisconsinW

Cyprian had asked me when he could be done with school. I told him that he would be done for the summer the end of May. Franz was done teaching at STMA and graduation took place the last weekend of May. Cyprian has finished in a fashion. I still have some math pages I want him to work, and reading over the summer, with intermittent writing as well. But let's face it. IT IS SUMMER, and being a boy and kid, my little men just want to have fun.

We headed to Wisconsin June 2nd. Driving part way and stopping to sleep in hotel in Indiana. The next day June 3rd we drove the rest of the way to Stevens Point. Settling in at Great Grandpa Klein's, we went to the Church rehearsal for Johanna's wedding that evening. Afterwards we all had a tasty dinner at a fancy restaurant. The boys along with their cousins and young uncles enjoyed kitty cocktails and tons of bread. By the time the plates of food arrived not one of the boys, or kiddos could eat much of their food.

Next day, the wedding day, was spent in preparation of persons and last minute details. The wedding took place at 1 p.m. and went beautifully.  The reception hall was open around 3:30. Most arrived around 4. There was a long social period. Then supper and of course dancing. My boys again along with the young uncles and cousins drank numerous kitty cocktails and rootbeer. I found out later that my boys would pop up on the stool at the bar and ask, "I want a beer!" There was also a table of candy. I have no idea how much each of my boys consumed. There was enjoyable dancing for all. Franz and I even got to dance, just the two of us a few times.

At one point Franz and his brother Stephen played a game of chess out in the parking lot. While several people enjoyed cigars and drinks. I was inside visiting with family and friends and unsuccessfully trying to monitor my boys. After awhile I too went outside and got to put on some boxing mitts and have a go around in instruction and punching with Jamie, Franz's brother. Shortly after this the boys who were melting down were gathered and put in the van. We got back to Great Grandpa Klein's and got sleeping and crabby boys to bed. Then Franz and I too happily tucked in.

Sunday we cleaned up and packed. Then we went to Mass at 10:30 with half the Klein clan.  Afterwards all the Kleins except the newly weds had lunch out in Great Grandpa's backyard. I got to put on the boxing mitts again and this time in my Sunday dress:') We finished packing and headed out to go to my parents farm.

We arrived at Jude's Acres late afternoon. Several of my family members and their children were present. Supper was a large affair. Which is the norm for us it seems with the large families on both sides. The boys happily played with their cousins. I have all the boys and my sisters and brother all have girls except one little guy. My boys lost no time in getting beat up. Cyprian climbed a metal gas tank and hit his knee really hard bruising it. Clement, when all the children were climbing on the teeter totter, got hit when the one end went flying up. Seriously, you should see Clements face. It has several cuts from the imprint of the teeter totter end. Cletus got hurt some how, but I am forgetting what exactly happened. Oh, and how could I forget, Chrysogonus at Great Grandpa Klein's right before we left, climbed a chair tipping it over and catching the corner of another chair. He had a nice swollen black eye. It doesn't take long for my kids to get into trouble.

Monday Franz and I tramped all over the farm exploring the fields, pasture, and woods. Also, we weeded the whole garlic crop that my parents have. I helped some in the house with dishes and kiddos. My sister Rachel did most of the cooking while we were at the farm. She is an excellent cook. The boys along with the cousins played outside most of the day. They did have a quiet time in the afternoon all sitting down with books. Maire, who is a very good reader, read stories to all the kiddos.

Tuesday was spent packing and spending more time outside. We headed out in the afternoon, making the long trip home back to NC. Between Franz and I, we drove straight through. We stopped for breakfast at Biscuitville in I think Burlington NC. Just before home we stopped at the hardware store in Bunn to pick up some electrical tape. Before leaving for WI we had sprinkled Dietotamacious Earth on the carpets. Literally right before leaving Cletus pulled the handle of the vacuum with the switch cord off. So, we knew we needed to fix the vacuum right away or we would be walking all over the dusty Dietotamacious Earth.

Well, we did make it home at last. The trip to Wisconsin was a very fast, busy, wonderful trip. The craziness does not end there. But this post is too long already, so adieu!



Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Quick!

It is hard to write when there are so many things that need tending. I am happily sitting in my husbands chair taking a break from the sun, sweat, and smelly animals. Today is another day of farming on Kleinshire. Our farm may not be big, but we plan to expand eventually. We strive and work at making more of our own food and stuff.

Cyprian has only done Math so far today. The boys sit outside playing with kittens. They planted several plants in their garden. Mostly eggplant. Um, I must be very distracted lately. Last week we went to Chris's green house and bought two flats. Mostly tomatoes, but I also grabbed what I thought was black beauty zucchini. Well, I saw the black beauty part, but I did not see that they were eggplants till I started planting in my garden. Ooops! In my defense doing any shopping with four boys can be CRAZY! Anyone want eggplants???

Anyhow the things to do keep going. I have cleaned the large goat stall. Spread the hay around some more plants I just put in the garden. Weeded the onions. Made lunch and then successfully put baby down for a nap. Hung the laundry. Trimmed several goats hooves. Checked animals. Now here I sit.

So just to make a post this is what I am posting. DONE! Well, done typing. I need to get back outside and finish some chores. "Idle hands are the devil's workshop." Hoping that I am avoiding sin, but in reality I have to check my temper when things do not go well and I am tired from the physical labor. Like, stabbing myself with the goat hoof trimmers when a goat jerked. I thought a bad word, thankfully I didn't say it out loud as I have done before. Nope, I definitely am not perfect and am kept humbled on a regular basis.

A good day to all of you! 

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Rolling, strolling!

While the girls are being weaned, we let them play and eat in the yard.

Browsing!

Cletus the ever busy body.


Lilly enjoying a bone from the pork ham.

We are in the barn!

Sheba practicing for milking 

Aeva.

Milcah, my doeling.


Smile Ruth!

Lilly watching over the young goats while they explore.

Lilly in-training as a livestock guardian dog.




Cat says, "MEOW!"

Growing!

Buddies?

Ruth, you are so pretty!


Hanging out!


Apparently Cat knows the way.

Tarcy demanding attention.

Look at how light Tarcy's coat is getting.


Just standing.

Who is calling?

Cutie pies!

Seriously lady, how many pictures are you gonna take!

Sheba, Cletus' goat.


George the dragon slayer....

Are you getting my best angle?


Dreamer is babysitting baby Reba (Rebecca)


Rebecca, we call her Reba.

Reba with her mama Lucia

Guineas!

Belle, who should kid soon.

Look at the start of that udder!

Finally posing!

Chickens happily scratching away.

Tam says hi!

It must be from having had quintuplets. Caroline is my top milk producer:')

Edelweiss and Caroline.

Reba looks so much like her daddy Oreo.



Boys in the woods. SNAKE!

Clement says, "Rarh!"

Can you see the dead snake?

Cyprian's find!

Stretch!

Proud of his find!

Still mowing! I hope Cletus keeps his drive to work:')

Oh Clement!

Look who woke from his nap.

Eggs, it is what is for breakfast.

Laying an egg in an old feeder.

My sole surviving California White. One was eaten by a pig and the other killed by the neighbor dog.

Dreamers sidekick

These two!

Dreamer our mostly blind goat is a beauty. She adores people.


Udder forming, as Dreamer will kid soon too.


Trouble, run!

Mommy, you want some hay!

Just sweet!




This kid loves the chicks!


George strutting his stuff.

One of my Buff hens.