Yucca Yucca Yummy!

I will readily admit that I am a lazy gardener and that finding any sort of wild edible makes my heat sing (and my stomach growl).  I love the fact that I can just go over there and yank something or other and put it in a pot and have something yummy to eat without having to plant, water, weed or otherwise care for said yummy thing.

This is the view outside my office window…..

Yuccas to the right

No, Fozzie, it's Yucca Yucca Yucca! 

I’ve been looking at those yuccas for five years now.  And just now realized that I could eat them.

They started blooming in early June and I would snack on the flowers back and forth from the car to the office.  I meant to gather more for putting in a salad, but always forget to do so (i.e. lazy).

So now I’ve noticed that the seed pods have formed and I did one of my usual internet searches, “Can I eat this thing?” and came up with enough “Yes” posts that I thought I'd have a go at it. 

I picked one off the stalk and took it into the office, washed it off a bit, plunked it into a coffee cup with water & boiled it for a few minutes.  Drained, salted and proceeded to take a bite.  Not bad!  Kinda like a green bean exterior taste, a wee-bit mucilaginous like okra, and the seeds were still forming so they were soft like okra seeds as well.  On my way to the car after quitting time, I stuffed the remaining ripe pods into my bag and headed home to cook them up as well.

And on my way home, I spied more yucca plants!  I pilfered a few more plants (yes, I had permission!) and added them to my sack.  I bet I had over five pounds of yucca pods.   

Took them home and boiled up a few more, lightly salted & buttered them and proceeded to munch away.  But this time there were some that were over-ripe, at least for eating.

Pod on the left, not good.  Pod on the right, excellent!

Getting too old to eat.  Notice black shells forming on the seeds.

Younger and yummier!

Yummy seed pod showing tough, center thingy.

The ones that started getting black seeds were definitely not worth eating, although I did try my darndest to do so.  You could choke through it, but it was very, very fibrous and the black seed coverings were a bit much to swallow.  There is also a center vein in all of the pods, but I just yanked those out or chewed around them.  Seeing as this is my first time harvesting the seed pods, I will definitely make sure I get to them earlier in the season as to avoid those tougher, more mature seeds.

You can eat the entire pod as is, just kind’a using your teeth to peel the three sections off and leave the stem in your fingers, or I suppose you could just cook them, then separate the sections off and then butter & salt them for a more “normal” looking side dish.  Either way, I’m glad I found out about these and I’m already driving around looking for more yucca bushes for next year’s harvest.

Driveway Garlic

There is a patch of wild garlic up by the front gate.  I pass by it at least twice a day on my way to work.   

I watch it start greening up in the spring, getting taller & taller.  Then the scapes start forming.  Then the scapes are ready to harvest.  Then they are past harvest.  Then the seeds pop out of what could have been a bunch of scapes on my dinner plate.   Because even though I pass that spot every stinking day, I just can’t manage to get my lazy bum out of the car to pick them.

Rhiannon started milking one of our dairy goats last week and accumulated enough milk to make some fresh cheese.  Hmmmm, some fresh basil and garlic would be perfect for an herbed cheese.  I don’t have any garlic in the pantry, but there is that patch up by the gate!  So I schlop my flip-flop wearing behind up the driveway with a trowel in my hand and proceed to dig up some garlic bulbs.  Then disappointment sets in.  They are smaller than I recall, and a bit dry.  Not sure if it’s because all the energy went into making the seed heads (and those lovely scapes I missed picking) or I just need to wait until fall to dig them up.  Regardless, I wanted - no NEEDED - some garlic in that goat cheese.

I plucked a half-dozen seed heads, shoved them in my pocket and flip-flopped my way back down the driveway, snipped several basil leaves from the herb garden and made my way into the kitchen.

Getting the husks off the tiny seed heads wasn’t difficult, but was time consuming.  Or at least took more time that I would have liked.  You know, more time than it would have taken had I properly stocked and stored garlic in the pantry.  But I did what I had to. 

I diced the peeled garlic seeds and added it to the basil and cheese and put it in the fridge for several hours to set up a bit. 

It was divine.  

And all gone.

Sloshing

The peepers, frogs, salamanders and toads are thoroughly enjoying the overly-wet spring we’ve had.  

My garden, on the other hand, is not.  

As of May 31^st, our area has already recorded a total of 39.98“of rainfall, 15 of which happened in May alone.  We are only 5” from our average total YEARLY rainfall.  To say that it’s a soupy, swampy mess around here would be an extreme understatement. 

We planted tomato and pepper seeds and starts outside the first of April.  It is now the first week of June and they have either rotted in the ground, stunted or have been washed down to the creek, never to be seen again.   One of my sage plants have basically rotted to death, the marigolds are waterlogged, beans – if they even came up – are growing s…l…o…w…l…y.  What corn plants Ms. Melman hasn’t been able to reach & chew up are doing ok, but the squash and beans planted in the Three Sisters mounds aren’t doing very well.  

Pea seeds have gone into the ground twice now, the first batch rotted and the second batch didn’t do much of anything and it’s already getting to hot for them anyhow.  First planting of cucumbers and pinto beans shared the same waterlogged death.   The herb garden, which seems to thrive in the midst of heat, poor soil and watering whenever I get around to it, is also taking a beating.  

We did, however, get a great harvest of radishes!  White Icicle and Breakfast radishes to be exact. 

Did I mention that I don't even like radishes?  Figures.

Grass, weeds, moss and  fungi are about the only things (other than giant radishes) benefiting from all this moisture and the goats / mule / chickens / whatever-the-hell-other animals we have are gorping on greenery.  Enjoy and fatten up, goaties, because it’s going to be a meat-heavy and veggie-light harvest come fall.

So since we actually want to get some sort of consumable vegetable matter out of the garden this year we are going to have to get more seeds in the ground.  I may as well just toss them off the back porch & say “Good luck, suckers!”  Probably get a better yield using that method. 

I wonder if there is a book on Swamp Gardening?

Feline Exotic Dancer

Short version:

I've been sleeping with a polecat.

Long version:

My mom lives a few miles away, her small subdivision tucked between cattle farms and patches of woods.  Last Thursday she told me that her & her neighbor noticed two tiny black and white balls of fluff wandering around their property.  At one point they were camped out on the driveway, just hanging out with no mom in sight (the animals, not my mom & her neighbor).   On Friday she texted me that they were still there, and still sans mommy.  Saturday I go over there and there is now only one of the two, huddled under a bush by the garage.  So of course I do what anyone (anyone - right??) would do. 

 

I carefully picked up the apparently abandoned baby and plunk it in a box with a towel…..and brought it home.  Paul was on the porch and I laid the box on the picnic table.  He was not amused.  Not one bit.  I couldn’t even get him to look at the tiny ball of black & white floofness.  The little jet black, sparkly eyes.  The scuffed up little nose.  The tail puffed up like it’s about to……

No.  No one was sprayed. Well, as of 10:30 am on 6/2. 

Because if Paul were to have been, I would be living with the fart squirrel in that same box and pleading for handouts on the corner of the Walmart parking lot.

Over the years I’ve taken in orphaned squirrels, feral kittens, a fawn, birds of all kinds, and I’m sure other fauna that I can’t recall at this moment.  But a polecat is a new one to me.  I’m not an “official” Wildlife Rehabilitation facility, but I may as well be.  

There was quite the show of floofy tail and butt pointing, stomping of cute little feet, although that was about it.  I’m not sure if she is too young to actually spray, but I’m pretty sure they can at a pretty young age.  Maybe she used all her ammo the past few days out on her own?  I don’t know.  All I know is that I haven’t been stink bombed….yet.

After some research, I’m figuring that she was about 4 ½ weeks old given her activity level and the emergence of her teeny-tiny teeth.   We have goat milk & store cow milk available, but I ran to the local farm store and got some kitten milk replacer.  She didn’t eat any solid food (apples, bananas, worms) I offered her, but once she figured out the syringe was full of milk she took to it pretty well.  Her once concave abdomen is now a convex ball of no-longer-hungry.

Against all common sense, I gave her a name: Penelope.  And you know what that means.  Once bestowed with an official name, you’re either a “pet” or an entrée.  In case you were wondering why  it wasn’t named something more befitting to Krazo Acres (like Stupid Cat, Outside Cat, Peckerhead, Curry or Dickhead), Penelope is was the name of the cat who constantly shuns the romantic advances of Pepe le Pew.  I learned that two days ago (thanks, Christine).

Anyways.  Back to my new wildlife orphan adventure.  Which, as I write this, am only three days into.  Therefore I am three days lacking any real sleep.  Because real wildlife rescuers (i.e. naive dipshits like myself that have a soft spot for furry & cute animals) sleep outside with their charges…..waking up every two hours to let the ball of fluff relieve herself and gorge on milk replacer.   At least with Rhiannon I got to sleep IN-side.  Paul made it perfectly clear that the newcomer would not be coming inside.  So outside it is.  At least I have a hammock or a blowup mattress to sleep on.

And Paul is still upset with me.

I’ll get over it.

If anyone is wondering why I have avoided using the actual work S****, it is because it is not lawful to capture / save / help / buy / sell / trade / transport or apparently even fucking look at them in our home state.  I could, however, destroy the animal and they would be just fine with that.  Or I would have to take it to an approved State Wildlife Rehabilitation Facility where they may (or may not) find it worth saving, but most likely euthanize it.  I spoke to my "Go To" vet and he even said that he isn't even allowed to touch any wildlife, under risk of losing his license.  Because you know, vets are only allowed to help "special" animals.  

And since I've already started an anti-government rant (only three posts into resuming my blog; imagine that), I will say that I have looked into what it takes to become an official Wildlife Rehabilitation Facility and it is beyond bullshit.  Red tape upon red tape upon red tape. Put in a red folder, wrapped in red cello and put in a red mylar bag with a red sticker that says, "Bullshit" on it.  

My vet guy said he also looked into it (as he actually wants to take care of injured animals, regardless if they are "good" or "bad" as defined by our state) and it was just not worth it to him in fear of doing something "illegal" by mistake.  So if you do happen to know a State licensed Wildlife Rehabilitation person, be nice to them....they get paid absolutely nothing to do this service.  In fact, they shell out $$ to the state to be given the official permit, they do it out of the kindness of their hearts, they do it out of the love they have for all animals.  For which the state obviously has little of.

Yes, I know that there are rules to keep people safe.  But I also know that anytime the government gets involved it's going to 100% screw something up and make it virtually impossible for good people to do good things.

Rant over.

Now go back up and look at that cutie so you end on a good note :)

Remember when.....

.....I said that I had too many freaking goats.  Like three years ago.  At that point in my blog, I was lamenting on about how we had a whole SIX pregnant goats for a total herd of twenty or just under/over.  At this point in time I cannot tell you the exact number of goats we have.  It's hovering around 40.  I think.  I just know that there are, like, a lot of goats.

In general, we've done pretty well breeding and caring for the goat herd.  We've put countless goats in the freezer & canner, sold a few (not nearly enough!) and lost several to old age, but we've been pretty lucky that only four have died without our wanting them to in the last three years. One to bloat, one to hypothermia, one stillborn and one to an unknown malady.   Oh, there have been several close calls though.  Broken leg, hypothermia, overextended tendons, dam rejection, bottle kids, etc, but we've done well if I do say so myself.

And done pretty well digging a money pit in the process.

You'd think that with all the people freaking out and screaming.....

OMG, there's NO chicken! then the
OMG, there's NO beef! then the
OMG, there's NO pork! (do you see a trend?  Anyone.....anyone???)

that there would be a demand for some of our meat goats.  But alas, there is not.  As anyone who tries to sell anything via FB or Craigslist, there are plenty of people who want this or that nowNowNOW, but when push comes to shove there is never a follow through involving actual cash.

We have made a couple hundred goat burgers.  Slow roasted goat shoulder. Goat sausages.  Goat meatloaf.  Pulled BBQ goat sandwiches.  Goat broth.  Goat enchiladas / tacos / fajitas.  Goat pot pie.  Goat chili.  You name it, I've made it with goat. 

So we continue to plod on and butcher them for our freezer.  Which really isn't that bad.  Except that I'd be apprehensive to do a cost analysis in fear that I would immediately suffer a stroke, knock my head on the countertop and the cats would eat me.  Because frankly, they're sick & tired of eating goat meat.  And honestly, I don't blame them.

Sneaking back in

Please forgive me if this post is all katywampus; it's been a wee bit since I've logged on to the Blogger site.

I've come back to blog for several reasons, but the final push was because Small Farm Girl (https://www.smallfarmgirl.blogspot.com) hinted that she was going to start up again and I'm like, "Not without me, you ain't!!"

The world, as many already painfully know, has officially gone to the crapper.  TwentyTwenty is going to go down in history as "That year pretty much sucked".  So I'm not going to discuss virology or economy or political-ology stuff (not yet, anyways) because frankly, I'm sick of the shit.  And I have only myself to blame because I have taken FB on as my main "outlet" and pushed my blog to the back of the closet (along with my size 10 jeans and high heels that I swear I will mash myself into one day).  It's time to start focusing on the GOOD things, and the things that I personally have control over.

I've been working full time since 2015, so things have obviously changed around the homestead.  Oh, the homestead is still here, if only to provide me with moments of rooster-rage or goat-screaming but  I'm just not the one dealing with it full time now.  Paul is now the sucker - I mean -  the Head Human in Charge, with Rhiannon as his Second in Command.

Following your blogs used to be the highlight of my week.  And I hope to bring that spark of joy back to my life.  And honestly, I miss writing here as well.

Oh, the stories I have to tell.  Some good, some bad, some downright so ugly that you will have to wash your eyes out with lye and then squirt salted lemon juice in them to flush it out.  But tell you about it, I will.

See ya soon!

Stay safe.  Stay well. 

Dem Bones

We butchered one of our Boer goats last month…..or was it the month before?  “BBQ” the wether was past prime butchering time (i.e. we should have last fall) but he finally went to freezer camp.  After several years of experience butchering goats and deer, we have a pretty standard operating procedure now.  Shoulders and ribs are slow roasted in the oven; hind quarters are either slow-roasted, cut into stew sized pieces or ground up for burgers; loins & tenderloins saved for “special” meals and the neck meat and other scraps saved for burgers. 

The dogs and chickens love butchering day.  Scraps here, scraps there, scraps, scraps EVERYWHERE!  (Imagine me doing that sing-song while I fling small pieces of fat, sinew and flesh across the yard for the chickens to brawl over.) 
 
Charlie and Kai get the choicest of scraps; liver, heart, kidney, and whatever else they manage to swipe out of the gut bucket when one turns their back for even a millisecond.  Kia snagged the goozle this time.  I have no idea where the word “goozle” originated, but it is the local word used to describe the throat piece that looks like a ribbed, plastic pipe.  Normally that stays IN the gut bucket, but Kai managed to swipe it.  I can’t quite describe the sound that is made when canine teeth chew through the eight inch, cast-aside esophagus of a goat.  Seriously.  I can’t.  All I know was that I was audibly bombarded by such a horrific noise that it made me visibly wince.  (I came back to this post over a month later and I STILL cringe at the memory of that sound).  Anywho.

Once all the meat was cut, cubed and picked from every possible bone, the bones and some other not-quite-good-enough-to-eat, but good-enough-for-broth scraps went right into the pressure cooker.  Bones are usually saved for the dogs, but I was running out of soup stock and thought I’d try my hand at goat bone broth.  I added water, onion, celery, carrots, bay leaves and a few shakes of salt into the pressure cooker and set it at 10 lbs. of pressure for about an hour.  I let it cool down in the pot, strained it, poured it into ½ gallon mason jars and stuck the broth in the fridge.  Normally I like to can broth to have on hand, but I wasn’t going to waste my time if the goat broth wasn’t up to par.   

I personally finished drinking a gallon of goat broth in less than a week.  And I will be making more, much to the dismay of the dogs.