Fowl Play: creating a hen house for fun!

Nothing entices me with the idea of pastoral paradise more than the crowing of a rooster at dawn, so you can only imagine how my mind took flight when my friend, JoAnne from Raleigh, North Carolina, told me that she and her husband, Levis, just established a chicken coop.

Now, as my thoughts took these fanciful flights, I wasn't thinking about practicalities--penning in the birds, and picking up after them--but of the enormous farm-fresh eggs that would have my mouth watering for omelettes every morning, and the charming clucking and pecking of fat, happy hens wandering around the yard.  Ah, sweet dreams are made of such thoughts....

But the reality is that this dreamy scenario can quickly turn nightmarish without proper preparation.  Establishing a viable hen haven is hard work.  Fortunately, JoAnne assures me that it's well worth the effort.

Of course, the first step in the process is to get your hands on some healthy chickens.  JoAnne and Levis bought theirs at a chicken auction.  Now, if you're like me, you probably didn't even know there was such a thing.  JoAnne happily recounted their adventures: 

"They had auctioned off two goats and a few rabbits as well. If we had a farm, we would have come home with the goats! We wound up winning the bid on the hens we had picked out before the auction: one Barred Rock and two Rhode Island Reds (pictured above). The Reds are beautiful, but I really love the Barred Rock. She's a big, beautiful bird. The funny thing is that when we were first looking at her at the auction, she laid an egg!  She acclimated easily to her new home. The other two, which had been sold as a pair, stuck together for the first two days, but slowly came out of the coop, and started exploring on their own."

JoAnne also graciously shared photos of their project.  She writes:

 

 

"As you can see in this side-view photo, Levis built the coop onto the shed to save room, and to save on lumber and siding. He used discount lumber from Home Depot. This was lumber that had flaws. It really helped to keep the project's costs down.

Inside the coop is a nesting area where the hens go to lay their eggs. This area can be accessed from the outside of the building by lifting the roof of the nest-area extension. Inside the coop is also a roosting area. This area has a pole for the birds to sit on, and a screen underneath for when they go to the bathroom.

Outside the coop is an eight-foot high fenced-in area with a gate. There's a sand pit in this area because the sand helps the chickens with digestion.

Attached to this fenced-in area is a four-foot high chicken run. The run is 40 feet long, and four feet wide. The chickens really enjoy this area, typically eating the grass.  One thing we were surprised about was how much water chickens can drink!

 

For anyone interested in learning more about securing and raising chickens, JoAnne suggests the following website:  http://www.backyardchickens.com/, which "has everything you'll need to know about chickens," she says.

 

Except the answers to those age-old ponderings: why they crossed the road, whether it was the chicken or the egg that came first...or why one should never count them before they hatch!  Seems like a harmless enterprise, after all.

 

Such timeless trivia tells us just how vital chickens have been to their human counterparts through the ages.  And for those of you who love them...start building your coops.  Plenty of hens are looking for homes. 

 

 

Ways to ward off the winter blues

I may just be getting old and cranky, but doesn't it seem as though the month of February has been endless?  This impression probably has a lot to do with the fact that it literally snows every other day, and temperatures in my neighborhood have only cracked the thawing point two or three times all month.  I admit it:  I'm restless for Spring.  With the dawn of a new season only 29 days away (but who's counting, right?), I need a little prelude to the main event.  Something to tide me over for the next four weeks, and one day.

A writer friend from Minnesota has offered inspiration: African violets.  These hothouse hotties come in a variety of hues--from pink to periwinkle and blue to maroon--they're offered online, and in many home-improvement and hardware stores.  Or, start one yourself--from a single leaf.  Grab a clipping from a friend's plant, place the leaf in a bud vase with the stem end remaining at all times in water, and you're on your way to a new plant.  In just a few weeks, roots will grow.

Another plus to planting African violets: they attract that most beneficial of beetles: the ladybug.  At a quarter-inch long, these bright orange or red bugs with attractive black polka dots, consume about 400 aphids a day!  That's some pretty handy houseplant housekeeping if you ask me!  These commendable critters will keep not only aphids at bay, but never turn down a meal of mites, scales, and whiteflies--tidying the terrain for optimal houseplant health.

And, like the violets, ladybugs can be purchased online.  Amazon, that Walmart of the web, offers 1500 live ladybugs for $3.85!  If buying in bulk, the ladybugs can be stored in the fridge (never the freezer) for up to two weeks, and released gradually.

I could elaborate on the therapeutic aspects of brightly blooming plants and bespeckled bugs to help ward off the winter blues, but I've gotta run--got to head out to the hardware store for my violets before the next snowstorm hits!

Keeping "track" of winter

In the midst of a harsh New York winter, it's easy to plunge as low as the temperatures. As my back's soreness increases from ceaseless shoveling, and my senses tire of the endless stream of cloudy, gray days, I know my sagging spirits need a boost. Of course, nature has answered my call--and provided me with a brilliantly sunny morning which beckons me out into the sparkling glare of newly fallen snow.

The Channel 7 meteorologist predicts that the weather gauge on my potting bench will rise to near 40 degrees today, a veritable paradise of tropical proportions when compared with recent temperatures, and I am making the most of it. My first order of business is to provide my poor little housebound Shih Tzu with some much-needed exercise. As soon as I pop out the back door, hundreds of miniscule markings mar the snowy canvas covering my patio, a sign that the birds have made good use of the birdfeeder hanging just outside our kitchen window. I glance around, following the calls of these winged warriors. The songs bursting from the tiny feathered breasts sound joyful. They are happy, I think, to have a reprieve from the harsh weather.

As we make our way around the back of the house, a playful succession of paw prints create a pattern in the pristine white, and I gaze around, trying to determine who left these marks. I decide that the equally spaced, matched-set of prints are the reveal of a critter who jumps through snowdrifts: An adventurous rabbit perhaps? A frolicking deer? I take a picture to document its course. And while I snap away, I notice that the stylistic wrought iron "sun" I've tacked to the front of the woodshed is just "rising" over a snowdrift (far right): the symbol of a bright new day.

Tomorrow it will snow again, and another half-foot will join the existing feet of winter white, piling ever-higher. But I won't fret. I'll smile, knowing Spring to be a mere 36 days away. I'll watch the whirl of snow whipping around my windowsill, and think of the haiku poem I just created:

Snowflakes drift
Endless expression
Of God's love

Winter's wonders

Okay, I have to admit it. Winter isn't my favorite time of year. But having said that, I hasten to add that I've learned to find beauty in even the most stark landscape. I've enjoyed walking around my neighborhood in newly fallen snow, trying to identify the varied tracks made by snow-trekking animals. And how my heart sings along with a bird's sweet call in the midst of a frozen morn's sunrise. Just last weekend I took this beautiful photo from my front porch and splashed it all over social media with the caption: "This is why I live in upstate New York."

Most people who know me also know that my love of literature equals, if not exceeds, my horticultural interests. For this reason I have joined an online writing site called FanStory in which I have discovered the amazing talents of writers of every stripe. From essayists to short-story authors, novelists and poets, the site has indulged my need to read--and allowed me to share my own writing.

On this cold winter morning I came across a magnificent offering on FanStory by poet Roy Owen, who generously allowed me to share his inspirational words:

A breeze, a butterfly,
flit by, like beauty's sigh,
a cloud in floating flight
drifts by on wings of light,

Eternal things are found
in depths of silent sound,
on breaths of angel's wings
with songs creation sings.

Eternal things are sown
found deep in hearts of stone,
God's touch will bring the spring
your heart to life will bring.

These lovely words remind me that Spring will come, and sooner than I think. Yet in the meantime, I should relish the frozen landscape outside my office window. And as the snow falls, yet again this season, I watch the flakes float downward, keeping my ear attuned to the "depths of silent sound" and enjoying the experience.

"Spirit" of the season

Enjoying the wonders of nature can be a challenge in the middle of a bitter New York winter, but vintners and distillers have found a way to utilize the previous season's harvest well into this mean season of snow drifts and ice fields. And, much to my delight, I find myself enjoying the fruits of their labor--literally.

A recent trip to the Albany Distillery--billed as Albany's first distillery since Prohibition--yielded a bevy of tasty cocktails, prepared right on site by the husband-wife team of John and Brooke Curtin, and their partner, Rick Sicari. Utilizing the bourbon and rye they distill right behind the bar, they whip up delicious concoctions like the Moss Coal Mule: Coal Yard Bourban, Adirondack ginger ale, lime and fresh ginger served in a traditional copper mug; and the Ironweed Old Fashioned: their own award-winning "Ironweed" Rye ( a name which cleverly evokes not only the New York Ironweed plant, Vernonia noveboracensis, with its gorgeous purple flowers, but the Pulitzer-prize winning William Kennedy novel of the same name, which, not co-incidentally is set in Albany) mixed with "Luxardo Maraschino cherry muddled with orange, orange bitters and soda."

In addition, John gives guided tours of the process which I found incredibly informative. For instance, I didn't know that "whiskey" is the blanket terms for bourbon and rye. I was also surprised to see clear liquid emerging from the faucet of the final doohickey in the process (as you can see, my terms are very scientific): it was clear! But whiskey has an amber hue, doesn't it? It sure does, and that's due to the aging process in oaken barrels, which transforms the clear fluid into the rich hue we all love to see shimmering in our cocktail glasses.

Of course my explanation of the distilling process is sophomoric, at best. For a much better description, check out a tour. The information gleaned, as well as a few laughs (some of which are provided by the on-site cat, Cooper, who tried to climb into my handbag), is well worth your time. Tours run on Thursdays and Saturdays. Call (518)621-7191 or visit Albanydistilling.com for more information.

Yet wine lovers (a group of which I am a proud member) should not feel left out! There are dozens of wonderful wineries in our region, not the least of which is Brotherhood Winery in Washingtonville, New York. It's America's oldest continuously running winery, dating back to the 1700's. The proprietors cleverly skirted the Prohibition law in the early 20th-century by creating "church" wine for sacramental purposes.

The business has come a long way since those days, adding new buildings to the original stone structures (some of which burned to the ground a number of years back). Today, visitors can expect guided tours, a gift shop, fine dining at the on-site restaurant, and even event-hosting for special occasions, including fine touches, like hand-made wine labels for individual events, like weddings or anniversary parties.

I recently enjoyed an afternoon with a group of girlfriends, learning a bit about the wine-making process, including the time-consuming challenge of making champagne. It's a lovely way to enjoy time with friends while learning. And let's face it, what's not to love about sampling a nice array of the "fruit of the vines" in good company? For tour information, call: 845-496-3661, or visit them on the web: brotherhoodwinery.net.

How to make houseplants thrive

It's no secret that I love to be surrounded in lush greenery. But with my garden temporarily frozen under nature's wintry glaze of snow and ice, I must turn my plant passion inward: to my houseplants. These "homebodies" provide a temporary flora fix, yet it's always about this time of year that they start looking a little ragged and limp. What to do? I decided to give myself a crash course in houseplant maintenance. Here's what my research uncovered:

1. Most of us are killing our plants with kindness. We tend to overwater, which encourages fungus gnats to feed and breed in the moist environment. It may seem cruel, but we need to let plant soil dry out completely before we add more water. Fungus gnats are still active in January, so ensure your plants are protected against them by placing a garlic clove (yup, garlic wards off more than mere vampires!), narrow side up, in the soil of each and every houseplant.

2. Many of us let fallen leaves collect in the soil of houseplants to act as mulch. Not needed inside. Mulch is vital for protecting the roots of outdoor plants, which encounter extreme temperature changes, but indoors, the debris provides a home for wintering insects, which will allow them to thrive and multiply come spring.

3. Check those pots! The containers that many holiday plants come in don't have good drainage, which invites vermin to inhabit their space. One example: poinsettias that arrive as gifts, wrapped in holiday-colored foil. Remove the foil, make sure pot has adequate holes for drainage, and place it on a plate or disc to catch water overflow.

4. Shift plants around the house in winter. This is the best way to determine what light conditions work best for various species. This trial-and-error approach may be the key to keeping plants alive throughout the winter. I made a surprising discovery when I brought lantana in after a successful growing season. Knowing that this plant thrives in warm weather and sunlight, I placed two of my three lantana plants in windowsills. Since I ran out of room, one plant had to go in a semi-dark space. The surprise: the plants in the windows died, and the one in low light is actually blooming!!! My research into this indicated that some plants can really benefit from a "time out." If, for example, your Christmas cactus failed to bloom this past season, the problem can be traced back to the autumn. This particular plant thrives when watering is cut back, starting in early October. And like the lantana, it likes a little extra time in low lighting. Geraniums also enjoy a little time off from heavy-duty blooming. One winter I pulled all my geraniums from the yard, and hung them upside down in my basement, using the delicate roots to gently hook them onto wire hangers. Sound barbaric? Sure does. But every plant except two survived...and bloomed even better that spring!

Sometimes, my gardening friends, we have to be cruel to be kind. Plants are far more resilient than we imagine, and they'll thank us for reduced pampering in the form of brilliant blooms and plush leafy foliage.

Protecting the power of the flower

When it comes to my garden, I've found that, like many other things in life, decisions I make today affect the health and appearance of my outdoor spaces months--even years--from now. Case in point: my blue-and pink-blooming hydrangeas (Hydrangea macrophylla). A number of months ago I lamented the fact that they did not bloom last summer. My research indicated that our supremely cold winter last year was the culprit, as the continued, numbing cold killed off the tender buds (see my post from August 18, 2014).

This year, the winter in upstate New York has had intervals of deep freeze equal to last year's. Yet even though this season hasn't maintained the radical dip, it has flirted with the dangerous lows that threaten vulnerable plantings. And it's only January. We've got a lot of winter ahead of us. Any plants in pots had best be in a garage, shed or basement by now. And the hydrangeas? They're still susceptible to damage, and a few days of temps hovering near 0 degrees are going to hurt them, even if the thermometer periodically jumps up into the 20's and 30's. These plants can sustain temps of 5 to 10 degrees relatively well, but not any colder.

I decided to take action to give the hydrangeas a fighting chance to bloom come late spring: Last fall I wrapped all the hydrangeas (including white-blooming oakleaf hydrangea, because it develops buds in the late fall) in plastic chicken-wire-type netting. I found my netting in my neighbor's junk heap (thank you, Karen), but you can get something similar in any hardware or big-box home improvement store. I held the wire so that it was vertical, and wrapped it twice (loosely)around each plant. Don't cover the plants horizontally because subsequent snow will put too much weight on them, and could snap their shoots.

After plants were properly wrapped, I gently pushed fallen oak leaves in open spaces between shoots, and between the plants and the loosely wrapped netting, to provide a cushy little nest of warmth to help them weather the upcoming storms of the season. If you do this too, make sure to shred leaves a bit so they don't stick together and create a mat, which is hard for precipitation and sunlight to penetrate. They don't have to be shredded like mulch, just torn up a bit.

Since leaves tend to eventually settle near the base of plants, "fluff up" the leaves periodically to keep them evenly spread throughout. And add more as the season progresses. Before a bad frost, especially, top off the leaves with fresh ones, making sure to cover up to the ends, since this is where most of the buds are. The plant below is in need of a topping. As you can see, the leaves have settled into the plant base, which isn't helping those tender blossoms at the top of branches. I'm hoping a little TLC now will translate into flower power come next summer, but only time will tell. Stay tuned!