There is something to be said about old houses. They have character that cannot be bought at Home Goods, and there is an undeniable appreciation for the craftsmanship that went into these historic beauties. Although everyone has a certain level of admiration for them, not everyone is equipped to or willing to live in one. Yes, I have hardwood floors and exposed beams that Joanna Gaines only wishes she could get her hands on. And I have a fully functional beehive oven in my kitchen that makes the most insanely delicious food. But, I don't have a square or level surface in my house resulting in shims under every stitch of furniture. Central air? Garbage disposal? What's that!? Antique houses are a constant project, and not something to take on on a whim. So why would I choose to live in a 1700's home? I didn't seem to have much of a choice. Both of my parent's grew up in homes built in the 1800's, and when I was just a young child they took on an 1840's house to renovate which was a reeeaaalll project. I grew up in a constant state of remodel. Dry wall, insulation, you name it, something was always being ripped down and installed. After college, I settled into my great-grandparent's early 1900's farmhouse that I planned on staying in forever. I have always lived in old houses, and didn't know any different. So when life took me in a different direction and led me to New England, it seemed only fitting that I again settle in an old house in the most historically dense area of our country.
Since I made the decision last spring that I was going to breed Karen I have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of breeding season. I have been biding my time, "prepping her" for her upcoming pregnancy by making sure her selenium, copper, and other vitamin levels are where they should be. Deficiency in such nutrients can not only affect her ability to be bred, but also the size and health of her litter. I also started paying attention to her heat cycle to know her signs, so I could track it and anticipate when she may potentially go into heat as the time got closer to arrange a date with her boyfriend. Animals certainly are unpredictable, and despite my best efforts to track her cycle and know her signs of heat, it proved to be more of a challenge than I thought.
There is no denying the laundry list of health benefits to raw, unfiltered, apple cider vinegar. Whether it be used for cosmetic or internal purposes, a simple google search will yield millions of reasons why you should add it to your diet or beauty regimen. I personally have used it for years on my hair and face, as well as a substitute (in most cases) for plain white vinegar in recipes. The stuff is just plain ole' good, and good for you. I always bought Bragg's with "the mother", because if you're going to buy it, in my opinion it really is the best. But this fall during apple season I thought shoot I can just make it myself no problem! So, I did! And it really is as easy as I detail below. All it takes is some patience and you can have homemade, raw, unfiltered, apple cider vinegar with that wonderful "mother" at your fingertips! Give it a try and see for yourself.
Thanksgiving is all about food, family, being thankful, and foooooood. My husband and I are thankful everyday for our animals, food, and the life that we live. I have said and continue to say that nothing makes you appreciate and be truly thankful for food more than raising your own animals you eat. This year we decided to raise our own turkey to take down to my family in PA for Thanksgiving, as well as extras for big dinners throughout the year and for grinding. Just like the chickens, the turkeys were brought to our farm at 1 day old in June, and were cared for everyday until they were processed by us the weekend before Thanksgiving.
I have people ask me all the time "how can you eat or butcher an animal that you have taken care of? Don't you get attached?" Seven months ago, I said no, I don't get attached. That's because up until that point, I only raised poultry for meat. And chickens, well, they're chickens. Sure, I felt something while I was killing, plucking, and gutting them. And every single bird that I killed, I thanked for its sacrifice. I don't appreciate them any less, I just never got attached.
I hauled my pigs away to the slaughterhouse this morning after caring for them day in and day out for the past seven months and raising them from thirty to three hundred pounds. I can't help but reflect on the whole experience that has taken a toll on me emotionally in a way I didn't expect.
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