Lehman’s Country Life

At The Landing, our goal is to show the public the activities and life of the 1800s. One event that happens every spring is plowing and planting. We have two fields that must be plowed, dragged and planted each spring, and there are also several house gardens that must be prepared for planting.

The 19th century showed the largest jump from “primitive” to “modern” in the history of farming. By the end of the century, farmers had gone from using horse- or oxen-drawn walking plows to steam tractors. At The Landing, we use a sulky riding two-bottom plow, pulled by two horses. Our plow is a real mid-1860s model and allows us to plow more land, faster, than with the walking plow.
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Connie haying

Here at Ash Lane farm, we don’t have many animals to care for. We have about fifteen chickens at the moment and two sheep.

The barn was, when we moved in, a junky building that had been designated the “tear down building.” Then I discovered, after moving some junk, that there was working electricity and running water. We decided that the building could be renovated with a lot of work, but that it would be easier to work on this one than build a new one.

So we cleaned the barn out. There was a day that my brother was here; he helped me move about a dozen old, decrepit bicycles from one end of the barn. None of them were even close to being able to being recovered for riding, so we took them to the metal recycling place to get rid of them.

We got four hens and a rooster that winter to start us out with farm-fresh eggs. Now, I’m here to say that I do NOT eat eggs, for the most part, but I love everything else there is about eggs – the hens, gathering eggs, looking at nice brown eggs in the fridge and cooking with them.
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All of my growing-up years, I craved being in the country, out of town. I never cared for having neighbors, being crowded and having people watch me as I walked down the street or rode my bike or skated on the sidewalk. My favorite place, if I could find, was alone in a tree top or in a “cave” in a secluded woods somewhere near the house we lived in. But never in a shopping center, a store or a crowded concert somewhere. As I grew, I insisted that I would marry a rich rancher which would allow me to live on a ranch, away from people and out on the land with animals surrounding me. Well …. I got part of my wish. I married a rancher’s son, although not “rich.” I did find, however, that he was more comfortable with being on the land with something to do with his hands. He was not a shopper, a “go-er for the sake of going” type of person.
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People! Are your goats healthy? Your sheep? No arthritis? No hard udders that are a mystery? Are they eating well? Not just peanut butter in celery sticks; as I tell husband Norm, goats do NOT live on peanut butter alone (man does not live on peanut butter alone either, but that’s another story). Or could some of your animals have CAE? Do you even know what CAE is? Sadly, many do not; but don’t feel badly if you are one who does not. Just read on.

CAE (not pronounced ‘kay’ but ‘C – A – E’) is the acronym for CAPRINE ARTHRITIS ENCEPHALITIS. This is a disease that is transferred by milk or by fluids. This means that if your doe has CAE, you cannot allow her kids to be nursed by her or even allow her to lick and clean the kids. Even sneezing can transfer the infection.

Now, I don’t want to put fear in your hearts, but CAE is really a disease to be aware of and avoid if at all possible. Not every animal that has CAE will show signs, but one could be a carrier for youngsters to develop it. Both goats and sheep can carry and suffer from CAE, even though it’s predominant in goats. So I will not keep saying “goats or sheep” but let you change “goat” to “sheep” in your head if you wish.

CAE can have two different signs – a neurological disease in the spinal cord and brain of young kids and a joint infection of older goats resulting in arthritis.
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I have a strange dance that I’m doing most days in my kitchen. It’s a step, slide, step, slide, turn around, lift over, step slide. If I stand still too long, I get chewed on – either on my knee or calf, through my pant leg.And why, do you ask, am I doing this strange dance? Because of little critters in my kitchen!

On Valentine’s Day this year, my husband Norm brought home a newborn kid for me to care for. His mother was a youngster herself and didn’t know how to care for him, much less have enough milk to feed him. As I held him and warmed him in my arms, I got to thinking – if YOU were given a newborn goat or sheep, could YOU care for it properly?
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It was thirty-five years ago; I had an eighteen-month-old daughter and was newly pregnant with my second child. Husband Norm and I had just moved from Rapid City, South Dakota to Australia and were settling in. Norm was a teacher; I was a homemaker and didn’t know many people at all.At a teacher’s evening get-together, one of the wives asked me if I liked being in Tumut, the town we had moved to. I replied that I loved it but was bored, as I didn’t know many people. She, Margaret, asked me what I liked doing and I told her that I liked crafts like sewing and embroidery.

Margaret, who later became my closest friend, told me there was a guild that met every week that perhaps I would be interested in checking out. She offered to babysit my daughter, Joy, while I went to a meeting to see what was going on.
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When winter comes, a young woman’s fancy turns to… HEAT!! Nice, warm houses, cozy fires to cuddle up to, warm blankets to wrap in. But in this day and age, living that dream can be very expensive, what with the costs of gas, propane and electricity. Wood is the best, in my mind, for good, bone-soaking heat.

But in November of 2005, my husband Norm fell off a ladder and broke his neck. We decided that wood heat would not be the best for us. With Norm’s neck so sensitive to the lifting, chopping and carrying of wood, we needed to find something else to keep this old house warm. Our first year of owning (but only staying here for a week at a time) told us that we needed something extra or we would be bankrupt by the propane cost to keep the house even mildly comfortable.

Since wood, my first choice, was out, what was next? We went to a restaurant that was using a corn stove to heat the large dining room and felt it would be a possibility, and finally decided on the corn furnace that we now have running in our basement family room.
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Today was the day I chose to make Swedish Meatballs but discovered I was out of noodles. So today was also noodle-making day.

Homemade egg noodles are so much better tasting (and better for you) than store noodles. Who knows what is put into the noodles in the factories? I KNOW what is in my noodles: nothing but fresh stuff!

The noodle dough is very simple. My favorite one is about one cup of flour to one egg, a plop of olive oil, a pinch of salt and water to make the dough stiff but not sticky. The eggs, of course, are farm fresh, which gives the noodles that lovely yellow color. I use organic unbleached white flour from the local Co-op. Many people use whole wheat, but I chose white as the flour of my choice. Sea salt and filtered water; good virgin olive oil – all the stuff fit for kings and peasants alike. Start with as much flour as you like, and then add the rest of the ingredients to match.
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½ cup shortening / lard / butter

2 eggs

1 tsp baking powder

½ cup cherry juice

1 tsp vanilla

1 cup sugar

2 cups flour

1 cup chopped maraschino cherries

½ tsp salt

½ cup nuts, chopped

Mix in order of the list / bake in 350º oven for about 40 minutes or so. I like to put the batter in the small loaf pans (1/4 size of normal bread pan) to make individual breads for gifts.

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 In the fall of the year, here in Minnesota, there are many historical rendezvous and history fairs that are planned for school children to visit. Historians, re-enactors and demonstrators of past crafts gather to demonstrate their skills or simply talk about the past.

The events usually run from Thursday through Sunday, with the last two days being open to the public.

The demonstrators set up the day before, or sometimes even a few days before. Many of them go from event to event and rarely go home for the entire two months of September and October! They live in tents and keep in the costume of their period while in the campsite. You will not see any modern equipment during the event if it is a “good” one.
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