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<channel><title><![CDATA[Lyric Hill Farm - BLOG]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog]]></link><description><![CDATA[BLOG]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 03 Apr 2026 11:43:38 -0700</pubDate><generator>Weebly</generator><item><title><![CDATA[Happy Little Accidents (Slacker Sauce)]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog/happy-little-accidents-slacker-sauce]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog/happy-little-accidents-slacker-sauce#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Fri, 12 Feb 2021 12:57:09 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog/happy-little-accidents-slacker-sauce</guid><description><![CDATA[       The painter, Bob Ross, was known for his ability to transform mistakes and incorporate errors into something wonderful.&nbsp; He dubbed them "happy little accidents" and rather than scrap his work and start over, he made them part of the creative process.My "happy little accident" began last summer when an over abundance of garden tomatoes, limited freezer space and a dearth of canning jar lids made me rethink how I would preserve the bounty.&nbsp; A friend had gifted me a dehydrator, so  [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/blog-post-6_orig.jpg" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div class="paragraph"><br />The painter, Bob Ross, was known for his ability to transform mistakes and incorporate errors into something wonderful.&nbsp; He dubbed them "happy little accidents" and rather than scrap his work and start over, he made them part of the creative process.<br /><br />My "happy little accident" began last summer when an over abundance of garden tomatoes, limited freezer space and a dearth of canning jar lids made me rethink how I would preserve the bounty.&nbsp; A friend had gifted me a dehydrator, so I immediately put it to use.&nbsp; I began drying every tomato we could not eat fresh; cherry tomatoes, plum tomatoes, grape tomatoes; into the dehydrator they all went.&nbsp; The benefit was that they took up a lot less room than jars of sauce I had put up and required a lot less time and effort to process.<br /><br />Only one question remained.&nbsp; How was I going to use up all of&nbsp; those dried tomatoes?&nbsp; Necessity is truly the mother of invention, and I found myself in the middle of making homemade pizza one snowy night without a jar of sauce in sight.&nbsp;&nbsp;<br /><br />I pulled out a bag of dried tomatoes, and figured I had nothing to lose.&nbsp; What resulted was the best and easiest tomato sauce I have ever made (and with apologies to the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company, I have made a lot of different sauces from fresh tomatoes, frozen tomatoes, canned tomatoes, tomato paste, tomato juice and a combination of all them together).&nbsp; It was so tasty, I used up the extra pizza dough to make bread sticks the following day to dip in the sauce, which my family was eating by the spoonful.<br /><br />The dried tomatoes created such a dense concentrated flavor of tomato-y goodness,&nbsp; I may never make sauce using fresh tomatoes ever again.<br /><br />What follows is a reconstruction of what I made and possible substitutions.&nbsp; Feel free to edit to suit your personal taste.<br />Buon appetito!<br /><br />EASY SUNDRIED TOMATO SAUCE<br /><br />2 cups dried tomatoes&nbsp; &nbsp;(I used a combination of&nbsp; 1 1/2 cup plum tomatoes and 1/2 cup cherry tomatoes)<br />1 cup dry wine&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;(Red or white will work here, as long as they are not sweet)&nbsp;<br />I cup of boiling water<br />1 tsp anchovy paste or 1 anchovy filet (optional)&nbsp; (The anchovies add to the richness of the sauce without any fishy taste)<br />4 large cloves of garlic, cut in half (more or less depending on taste)<br />1 small onion or shallot, cut in quarters<br />1 Tbsp sugar (more or less to taste, sugar brings out the sweetness in the tomatoes and curbs some of the acidity)<br />2 tsp coarse salt (more or less to taste)<br />1/4 tsp ground black pepper (more or less to taste)<br />1 sprig of fresh rosemary (or 1 tsp dried)<br />1 sprig fresh basil, roughly chopped (or 1 tsp dried)<br />1 bay leaf<br />1/2 tsp dried oregano<br />1/4 tsp red pepper flakes (optional)<br />2 Tbsp tomato paste<br />1 can of good quality whole tomatoes (Muir Glen) or 3 cups of frozen tomatoes<br /><br />Place tomatoes in pot and pour boiling water over them to soften.&nbsp; Cover and let sit for about 5 minutes.<br /><br />Add wine, garlic, onion, and anchovy paste (if using)&nbsp; Cover and simmer over medium heat until tomatoes, garlic and onions are very soft.&nbsp;&nbsp;<br /><br />Add canned or frozen tomatoes, sugar, salt, black pepper, rosemary basil, oregano, pepper flakes and tomato paste.<br /><br />Stir to combine and cook uncovered under low heat for 15 minutes.&nbsp;&nbsp;<br /><br />Carefully, ladle contents in small batches into a blender or food processor and puree until smooth.&nbsp; If you do not like seeds or skins in your sauce, put sauce through a food mill or a strainer to remove them.<br /><br />Return blended sauce to pot and cook until desired consistency, adding additional sugar and salt to taste as needed.&nbsp; If sauce is too thick, add water or wine to thin.&nbsp; If sauce is too thin, cook uncovered until the excess liquid evaporates off, stirring occasionally to keep sauce from sticking or burning at the bottom of the pot.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[A Little Goat Named Ivy]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog/a-little-goat-named-ivy]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog/a-little-goat-named-ivy#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Mon, 27 Apr 2020 12:49:50 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog/a-little-goat-named-ivy</guid><description><![CDATA[I used to be a semi-rational human being BG (before goats).People meeting me for the first time have no idea of the checkered past buried beneath this harmless, dotty exterior.&nbsp; And, no one EVER suspects that I am a confirmed kidnapper.&nbsp;It happened innocently enough.Close friends convinced me that goats were a wonderful project for children. &nbsp;(They were sowing the seeds of their genius, and somewhat diabolical, plan to shift their goat herd to our farm when their daughters graduat [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="paragraph">I used to be a semi-rational human being BG (before goats).<br /><br />People meeting me for the first time have no idea of the checkered past buried beneath this harmless, dotty exterior.&nbsp; And, no one EVER suspects that I am a confirmed kidnapper.&nbsp;<br /><br />It happened innocently enough.<br /><br />Close friends convinced me that goats were a wonderful project for children. &nbsp;(They were sowing the seeds of their genius, and somewhat diabolical, plan to shift their goat herd to our farm when their daughters graduated and left home.)<br />In the beginning, I had a kid (a human one) in elementary school who wanted to show goats in 4H. We had TWO goats back then (the thought makes me giggle uncontrollably now &ndash; Goats are like potato chips; you can&rsquo;t have just one. And whoever stops at one or TWO? Or three&hellip;or four&hellip;?)<br /><br />Our friends&rsquo; daughters had a herd which they loved, cared for, bred and showed.&nbsp; One morning, as my friends and their girls were leaving for work and school, one of their does went into labor. &nbsp;My friend called and if I could go check on her.&nbsp; Aside from being a rock star at Lamaze breathing and having opposable thumbs which allowed me to call a vet, my goat birthing skills were not what anyone would have called stellar. &nbsp;I am NOT the person you call in an emergency where there is blood or leaking bodily fluids. &nbsp;I am (still) a firm believer that anything that typically resides inside of the body, has no business being on the outside.<br /><br />Luckily, by the time I arrived at their barn, the doe had already given birth.&nbsp; I gave the mama some molasses water and checked to make sure she was fine,&nbsp; then turned my attention to the new baby.&nbsp; Nestled in the straw was the most adorable baby goat I had ever seen. &nbsp;I. Was. Smitten.&nbsp; In love.&nbsp; She had a pink nose, a pie bald face, and a white belt across her middle.&nbsp;<br /><br />I did what any person who had little or no goat knowledge would do in my situation.&nbsp; I carried her to my car, brought her to my house, put her in a basket in the kitchen and began bottle feeding her.&nbsp; (All of those James Herriot stories I had read were coming ro life.) Then I called my friend.&nbsp; I told her dam and doeling were fine but the baby mysteriously went&nbsp; missing.&nbsp; My very first KID-NAPPING (What else would you call the theft of a goat kid?)<br /><br />My friends smiled to themselves.&nbsp; Their plan was working.&nbsp; The&nbsp; children were hooked, now it was time to reel in the Mom.<br /><br />My children thought I had completely lost my mind.&nbsp;<br /><br />HUMAN KIDS:&nbsp; Why do we have LIVESTOCK in the HOUSE?<br /><br />ME:&nbsp; It&rsquo;s just like in &ldquo;All Creatures Great and Small&rdquo;&nbsp; Besides she&rsquo;s just a baby.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s cold out.&nbsp;<br /><br />HUMAN KIDS:&nbsp; She a GOAT.&nbsp; She should be out in the barn.&nbsp; With her mother!<br /><br />ME:&nbsp; (smiling a bit maniacally)&nbsp; I &lsquo;M her mother now.<br /><br />We named her Ivy, and eventually she did go out to live in the barn. She taught me many, many things about goat &ldquo;parenting&rdquo;.&nbsp; If you have more than one child, you make mistakes on the first one that are not repeated on subsequent offspring.&nbsp; If you have an only child, you&rsquo;ll just have to trust me on this.<br /><br />Mistake number one and it was a BIG one; one I paid for for years.&nbsp; No matter how adorable baby goats are, do NOT feed and cuddle them in your lap. Alpines are large goats when fully grown.&nbsp; Feeding a baby goat in your lap is like letting your St. Bernard puppy sleep in your twin bed.<br /><br />Fast forward eight years during a vet visit for rabies shots.&nbsp; As the vet and vet tech approached the stall, there was Ivy, all 135 pounds of her contentedly sitting in my lap.&nbsp; And at 5&rsquo; 2&rdquo; I do not have a lot of lap real estate available for a fully grown goat to lounge on.&nbsp;<br /><br />The vet looked at me as he was getting out the needles:&nbsp; &ldquo;Bottle fed doe?&rdquo;<br /><br />ME: (very quietly) Yes, how could you tell?<br /><br />The vet and vet tech gave each other knowing looks.<br /><br />ME:&nbsp; It was only the ONE goat!&nbsp; How long do you think she&rsquo;ll keep doing this?<br /><br />To their credit, they did not laugh (at least not while they were still in the barn)<br /><br />One of my friends&rsquo; girls, now grown and a beloved friend and mentor, repeatedly accused me of &ldquo;shameless goat favoritism&rdquo; where Ivy was concerned.&nbsp; It may have been slightly true.&nbsp; Probably was true.&nbsp; Okay, it WAS true.<br /><br />It wasn&rsquo;t that I didn&rsquo;t love all of my goats (the herd now at eight because&hellip;potato chips), I just loved Ivy a bit more.&nbsp; I loved her for loving me. And yes, that made her a bit of a endearing, needy nudge.&nbsp;<br /><br />So when she got old and arthritis set in, I tried everything in my power to avoid the inevitable.&nbsp; Massaging her legs, giving her a variety of pain meds daily so she would be comfortable, frequent vet visits to evaluate her quality of life.&nbsp; And when the time came to say good bye, in February, I was fortunate to have the same vet, now a friend, who had seen her jump in my lap all of those&nbsp; years ago.<br /><br />The hands that had held her on the day she came into the world, and the hands that lovingly cared for her every day since, now held her gently as she transitioned peacefully out.&nbsp;<br /><br />I bawled in the vet&rsquo;s arms.<br /><br />ME: (crying) &ldquo;I suck as a farmer. REAL farmers would never have invested this kind of time, effort and expense in one goat.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s completely irrational&rdquo;<br /><br />VET: &ldquo;You&rsquo;re a compassionate farmer.&nbsp; And there are more like you than you think.&nbsp; You gave her a long, wonderful, happy life. That&rsquo;s something to be proud of&rdquo;<br /><br />For weeks the barn has felt empty devoid of my sweet Ivy.&nbsp; I miss hearing her voice. Tears I have not shed in over a month, well up as I write.&nbsp; But I now can look at photos of her and remember how lucky I was to have had her grace my life and love her with such intensity for so long.&nbsp;<br />&#8203;<br />And maybe, just maybe, if I visit my friend&rsquo;s daughter&rsquo;s farm, it may be time for another kidnapping.<br /></div>  <div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/i-pad-photos-003_orig.jpg" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/ivy-and-rosie_orig.jpg" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/garden-photos-june-2013-843_orig.jpg" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Nineteenth Century Living]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog/nineteenth-century-living]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog/nineteenth-century-living#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Mon, 20 Apr 2020 11:47:36 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog/nineteenth-century-living</guid><description><![CDATA[Twenty first century skills.I have none.&nbsp;Tik Tok. Snap Chat. Doing more than one thing on my phone at a time. &nbsp;Frankly doing ANYTHING on my phone other than calling, texting or taking a photo are completely outside my skill set or desired skill sets.Now, nineteenth century skills. Those are a different story all together.&nbsp; If it requires a boat load of labor by hand, I&rsquo;m in.&nbsp; Lately I have been a combination of Scarlett O&rsquo;Hara making a ball gown out of curtains (a [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="paragraph">Twenty first century skills.<br /><br />I have none.&nbsp;<br /><br />Tik Tok. Snap Chat. Doing more than one thing on my phone at a time. &nbsp;Frankly doing ANYTHING on my phone other than calling, texting or taking a photo are completely outside my skill set or desired skill sets.<br /><br />Now, nineteenth century skills. Those are a different story all together.&nbsp; If it requires a boat load of labor by hand, I&rsquo;m in.&nbsp; Lately I have been a combination of Scarlett O&rsquo;Hara making a ball gown out of curtains (albeit the Carol Burnett version with the curtain rod still in it) and The Little Red Hen; &nbsp;especially when it comes to feeding my family.&nbsp;<br /><br />Last week &nbsp;I decided to make ravioli.&nbsp; For normal people, this typically involves opening up a frozen or fresh package of pasta, dropping it boiling water, draining it, topping it with sauce and cheese, and serving it to one&rsquo;s family with a gracious smile and pleasant conversation.<br /><br />Not around here.<br /><br />DINNER ON THE FARM (PART 1)<br /><br />7:00 a.m. - Milk goat, gather fresh eggs<br /><br />8:00 a.m. - Strain and pasteurize milk<br /><br />8:30 a.m. - Make cheese and let set; then drain<br /><br />9:00 &ndash; 11:00 a.m.- Tromp through fields and lawn collecting dandelion greens. <br />&nbsp;<br />11:00 &ndash; 3:00 p.m. - Soak and rinse and soak and rinse and soak and rinse and clean greens (times infinity). Swear that you&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; will never do this again.<br /><br />3:00 p.m. &ndash; Make pasta dough from eggs and 50 pound bag of flour you feel compelled to use, chill for 30 minutes<br /><br />3:30 p.m. &ndash; Make sauce from tomatoes, garlic and herbs grown, gathered and frozen from last summer&rsquo;s garden.&nbsp; Open bottle of wine.&nbsp; Put a half cup in the sauce for flavor.&nbsp; Realize the whole day has been spent making a meal that is not yet done and will be eaten in less than ten minutes.&nbsp; Drink the rest of the bottle. Ponder why no one else ever cooks dinner.<br /><br />4:00 p.m. &ndash; Make filling from cherve and ricotta made earlier, roll out dough by hand.&nbsp; Assemble ravioli.&nbsp; Contemplate by passing more wine and drinking the vanilla extract you made out of Maker&rsquo;s &nbsp;Mark. Set ravioli aside.<br /><br />5:00 p.m. &ndash; Put sauce through food mill to get rid of seeds and stems, boil water for ravioli.<br /><br />5:10 p.m. -&nbsp; Mix up dressing for dandelion greens (with homemade vinegar from apple and farm grown garlic)<br /><br />5:15 p.m. - Set table<br /><br />5:30 p.m. - Cook and drain ravioli<br /><br />5:45 p.m. &ndash; Dinner is served.&nbsp; Realize that you have spent 10 &frac34; hours making this meal.&nbsp; Wonder what the hell is wrong with you. Contemplate whether it is genetic or environmental.<br /><br />DINNER ON THE FARM (PART 2)<br /><br />Announce to your family that everything they are about to eat (except for the flour and olive oil) was grown on the farm.&nbsp; Remind them repeatedly of their good fortune to be quarantined with someone who can cook and keep them fed. Watch them inhale the ravioli.&nbsp; Consider why you never thought &nbsp;teaching them to chew was important.&nbsp; Question your parenting skills. Have the following conversation:<br /><br />KID: (Spark flying from utensils in urgency to get the ravioli in his mouth)&nbsp;Where did you get the salad greens?<br /><br />ME: (Pausing and remembering that pride goeth before the fall, but saying anyway)<br />The lawn<br /><br />KID:&nbsp; &nbsp;WHAT?!!<br /><br />ME:&nbsp; They&rsquo;re dandelion greens.&nbsp;<br /><br />KID:&nbsp; (Having eaten half of his salad and now looking a bit nauseous)<br />Are they okay for you?&nbsp; Did you know eating grass can make you sick?&nbsp; How do you know there isn&rsquo;t something poisonous mixed in there?<br /><br />ME: (Rolling my eyes so hard I&rsquo;m sure they got stuck for a moment)<br />They are actually very nutritious and good for you.&nbsp; If you went to a high end restaurant this would be haute cuisine.&nbsp; And I touched, washed and scrutinized every leaf that went into that salad at least a million times. &nbsp;<br /><br />KID:&nbsp; Still looking a bit green and unconvinced<br /><br />Then, the devil on one shoulder SHISH KABOBBED the angel on the other side with his pitchfork and I heard this little bit of encouragement fall from my lips:<br /><br />ME: ( In my most comforting mom voice)<br />I am extremely careful with what I pick and serve in salad.&nbsp; Trust me, if I were going to try to poison you, I&rsquo;d never do it with salad.&nbsp; I&rsquo;d mix it into a batch of brownies because I know you&rsquo;d eat every crumb.<br />&#8203;<br />I can&rsquo;t be certain, but I don&rsquo;t think there will ever be a problem with the brownies disappearing before I get to taste one in the future.<br /></div>  <div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/food_orig.jpg" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/greens_orig.jpg" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/ravioli_orig.jpg" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/plate_orig.jpg" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Quarantine]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog/quarantine]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog/quarantine#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Mon, 13 Apr 2020 00:36:27 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/blog/quarantine</guid><description><![CDATA[Imagine. &nbsp;Being in quarantine with Edward Scissorhands.But instead of scissors, his hands were made of chainsaws.Spring comes capriciously and haphazardly to New England. &nbsp;Keeping our old, drafty farmhouse warm requires supplemental wood heat often through May. &nbsp;It&rsquo;s all hands on deck as the colder months approach with cutting, splitting and stacking wood. &nbsp;But our wood cache, procured in late fall, is usually sufficient to last until the warm weather fully takes hold.S [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="paragraph">Imagine. &nbsp;Being in quarantine with Edward Scissorhands.<br /><br />But instead of scissors, his hands were made of chainsaws.<br /><br />Spring comes capriciously and haphazardly to New England. &nbsp;Keeping our old, drafty farmhouse warm requires supplemental wood heat often through May. &nbsp;It&rsquo;s all hands on deck as the colder months approach with cutting, splitting and stacking wood. &nbsp;But our wood cache, procured in late fall, is usually sufficient to last until the warm weather fully takes hold.<br /><br />So when I heard the whine of the chainsaw the other day, I was surprised and a bit curious but not overly worried. &nbsp;At least not right away. &nbsp;And then I saw it.<br /><br />The carnage.<br /><br />Not knowing whether to start crying or grab my shovel to whack someone, my eyes took in what my brain could not reconcile: what was once our apple tree; decapitated, limbs severed...amputated branches strewn EVERYWHERE. Granted, the tree was ancient and sickly, but it provided enough apples for sauce and pie for us and treats for the goats and pony. And in the midst of it all was my husband, chainsaw whirring, giddily looking around to see what he could annihilate next with the Blade of Destruction.<br /><br />He managed to mutilate one of the maples, the apple tree and the pear tree before I could stop him. It was like Sherman&rsquo;s March to the Sea (only with trees and a deafening cutting device). Woody demolition incarnate.<br /><br />When I finally recovered from my shock enough to pull my boots on and bolt outside, the conversation went loosely like this:<br /><br />ME: &nbsp; WHAT. THE @$#&amp;*% . ARE YOU DOING?! (Being cooped up in The House of Testosterone, combined with the lack of interaction with polite society, has given me a bit of a potty mouth. &nbsp;I fear this may take years to correct)<br /><br />HUBBY: &nbsp;Pruning the trees. They were overdue.<br /><br />INSERT Blank, blinking stare here)<br /><br />ME: With a CHAINSAW?!! Who the $&amp;#@*% (see? I told you it was bad) prunes with a chainsaw? &nbsp;What about the limb saw and pruning shears?! &nbsp;You know they&rsquo;re called PRUNING shears for a reason!<br /><br />HUBBY&gt; It will be fine. My dad was a plant pathologist. &nbsp;I know what I&rsquo;m doing.<br /><br />(INSERT Hard palm slap to forehead here)<br /><br />ME: If fine means DEAD, you&rsquo;re probably right. ( I was too shocked in the moment to remind him that although neither&nbsp;of my parents had PhDs in Plant Pathology, I was a Master Gardener and had worked both as a horticulturist and a garden designer at a renown nursery and knew a *little* more about plants than he did. &nbsp;And l&rsquo;d bet the farm my father in law would have backed me up on that one)<br /><br />Because I wasn&rsquo;t at enough risk of my head exploding, one of my boys wandered over and commented.<br /><br />KID: Wow! &nbsp;What did Dad do to the apple tree?<br /><br />ME: (Holding my head in my hands , whispering, choking out) He &ldquo;pruned&rdquo; it.<br /><br />KID: &nbsp;Why&rsquo;d he do THAT? &nbsp;You should have stopped him. That tree definitely isn&rsquo;t going to make it.<br /><br />At this point, I could either have added two bodies to the tree count or walked away. &nbsp;<br /><br />Providence was on my side. I stepped away. Hid in the pantry. Yelled. &nbsp;Muttered more bad words. &nbsp;Slammed stuff around. &nbsp;And in doing so found my way through the madness. There, hiding behind the pasta was a half consumed bottle of Bailey&rsquo;s Irish Cream I had forgotten about, a jar of goat milk caramel sauce and an eight ounce block of Callebaut chocolate untouched in a Tupperware container smartly labeled &ldquo;Dried Lima Beans&rdquo;<br /><br />I&rsquo;m still miffed about the tree. &nbsp;But every cloud does have a silver lining...even in quarantine. &nbsp;I sat on the floor, opened up the Bailey&rsquo;s, pulled out my phone, and ordered a half dozen apple trees. &nbsp;And then headed over to the barn to remove the chain from the chainsaw.<br />&#8203;<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>  <div><div style="height: 20px; overflow: hidden;"></div> 				<div id='867872269387610581-gallery' class='imageGallery' style='line-height: 0px; padding: 0; margin: 0'><div id='867872269387610581-imageContainer0' style='float:left;width:33.28%;margin:0;'><div id='867872269387610581-insideImageContainer0' style='position:relative;margin:5px;'><div class='galleryImageHolder' style='position:relative; width:100%; padding:0 0 75%;overflow:hidden;'><div class='galleryInnerImageHolder'><a href='https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/018d4097-acfd-47b7-8b19-84d561a0fc31_orig.jpeg' rel='lightbox[gallery867872269387610581]'><img src='https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/018d4097-acfd-47b7-8b19-84d561a0fc31.jpeg' class='galleryImage' _width='600' _height='800' style='position:absolute;border:0;width:100%;top:-38.89%;left:0%' /></a></div></div></div></div><div id='867872269387610581-imageContainer1' style='float:left;width:33.28%;margin:0;'><div id='867872269387610581-insideImageContainer1' style='position:relative;margin:5px;'><div class='galleryImageHolder' style='position:relative; width:100%; padding:0 0 75%;overflow:hidden;'><div class='galleryInnerImageHolder'><a href='https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/b94c158d-5436-4ea3-b711-f296627c08b2_orig.jpeg' rel='lightbox[gallery867872269387610581]'><img src='https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/b94c158d-5436-4ea3-b711-f296627c08b2.jpeg' class='galleryImage' _width='600' _height='800' style='position:absolute;border:0;width:100%;top:-38.89%;left:0%' /></a></div></div></div></div><div id='867872269387610581-imageContainer2' style='float:left;width:33.28%;margin:0;'><div id='867872269387610581-insideImageContainer2' style='position:relative;margin:5px;'><div class='galleryImageHolder' style='position:relative; width:100%; padding:0 0 75%;overflow:hidden;'><div class='galleryInnerImageHolder'><a href='https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/d5935884-2bc3-4c88-be01-e5702bcdcdbc_orig.jpeg' rel='lightbox[gallery867872269387610581]'><img src='https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/d5935884-2bc3-4c88-be01-e5702bcdcdbc.jpeg' class='galleryImage' _width='600' _height='800' style='position:absolute;border:0;width:100%;top:-38.89%;left:0%' /></a></div></div></div></div><div id='867872269387610581-imageContainer3' style='float:left;width:33.28%;margin:0;'><div id='867872269387610581-insideImageContainer3' style='position:relative;margin:5px;'><div class='galleryImageHolder' style='position:relative; width:100%; padding:0 0 75%;overflow:hidden;'><div class='galleryInnerImageHolder'><a href='https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/ff490e29-7442-491a-aa83-4177e22de3a5_orig.jpeg' rel='lightbox[gallery867872269387610581]'><img src='https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/uploads/6/9/6/1/6961914/ff490e29-7442-491a-aa83-4177e22de3a5.jpeg' class='galleryImage' _width='629' _height='477' style='position:absolute;border:0;width:100%;top:-0.56%;left:0%' /></a></div></div></div></div><span style='display: block; clear: both; height: 0px; overflow: hidden;'></span></div> 				<div style="height: 20px; overflow: hidden;"></div></div>  <p class="blog-feed-link"> 	<link href=""  rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml" title="RSS" /> 	<a href="https://www.lyrichillfarm.com/1/feed"> 		<img src="//cdn2.editmysite.com/images/old/bg_feed.gif" /> 		RSS Feed 	</a> </p>  <div class="wsite-spacer" style="height:50px;"></div>]]></content:encoded></item></channel></rss>