Wind was blowing rain into our living room window in loud sporadic sheets.  Sweet Little Miss Q was staring wide eyed as leaves ripped off branches and swirled away out of view.  Dense clouds turned the sun into a gray-blue twilight that lasted from dawn to late morning.  Only poultry remain on the farm as the butcher has come and our pastures recover over winter.  Though we are striving to have breeding livestock year-round, I’m not upset that I don’t have to water hogs, chase sheep, or mend fences today.  I will watch the storm and maintain caffeine levels.
Coffee is a food group on days like today.  I need the energy to continue the battle against spiders attempting to colonize my home.  Spiders of all shapes and sizes have decided that our humble abode would be the perfect place to nest.  I’ve found them in boots, blankets, beds, toilets, you name a room and I’ve likely chased a spider there.  My methods of removal vary based on my level of horror: when a choice specimen was crawling up the chest of my 15 month old I squished a quarter sized arachnid with my thumb and forefinger, when one crawled out of the towel drawer in the kitchen the weapon of choice was a cheese slicer, and when one dropped onto me in the shower I’m not sure which karate chop move did the trick but only one of us walked out alive…
The farm is a horror show in terms of spiders, webs and their ability to get in or around my hair or on my baby. I don’t mind spiders, they are important to food-webs and I am in awe of their natural ability to spin silk art.  But I pity the spider who chooses to jump from the chicken coop door onto Little Miss Q or flies through the air to land on my head… “oh was that an alder cone falling from that tree?” NOPE.
A few fun facts about spiders from Random History: 
1)There are typically 1 million spiders in 1 acre of land
2)Spiders are not only pollinators of plants but support bird and small animal diets
3)Spiders help control insect populations (which is increasingly important for years like 2015 when insect populations boom, thus negatively affecting food crops, timber production, and other environmental sectors)
4)Some of the most deadly spiders in the world include black widow and brown recluse (both of which have been found in the Pacific Northwest).

So, though I love spiders and all the work they do, I will fight the good fight to keep them out of my house and off my baby. If that includes squishing a quick little spider with the baby monitor as I write blog posts- so be it.

     
Little Miss Q watching the storm

With the changing leaves, wool socks, and brisk mornings also comes school bus traffic, increased time indoors, and muddy boots. All summer I had put off laundry, paperwork, organization and hot dinners in order to accomodate busy work schedules, farming and making memories with the family.  But with the family spending more time indoors it was time for the removal of unorganized clutter and clever placement of fall decor.
My allotted budget for decor of any kind is a big goose egg, but by using a lot of natural materials found on the farm, a Graceful Finds Boo Banner  and a shameful amount of burlap and twine I was able to decorate with beautiful rustic touches without breaking the bank.

(Spruce cones collected on the farm)

(Home – grown and home-dried hydrangeas)

(Boo Banner from Graceful Finds)

Along with our family, Frank the cat has also been spending a lot of quality time indoors.  He has been sleeping with Little Miss Q at night, gently playing with her during the day, and endearing himself to the most important person in the world (Miss Q).  Thus, when I accidentally forgot to put him outside before a morning walk and came home to a pile of kitty bowel movements in my kitchen, my hatred for the precious cat was only overcome by Miss Q’s tears that I wouldn’t let him inside.  I’m not sure if Frank hates fall, didnt like my decor, was confused by having a clean house for once, or if he was mad for another feline reason, but the intentional placement of poo was unmistakable cat anger.
Though I once again wanted to banish him from our house, sweet Q’s insistence on letting the cat inside undermined my resolve. Just another day in Melville.

Leaves fell as gusts of wind blew through the valley and carried away the lingering heat. Coastal dew dampened the grass before dawn as the first hint of Autumn awoke with the morning. The clouds hung low and the coyotes yipped their confidence in the shadows of dense tree cover.
Our idiot sheep showed no signs of fear as they pranced around in the cool marine breeze that smelled of fresh rain and salt. The laying flock even more brazen as they crossed property boundaries to investigate new pasture.  I served a breakfast of baked apples and eggs that were both collected the day before and poured Sweet Little Miss Q a cup of milk whilst dreaming about the pros and cons of owning a dairy animal.
This beautiful morning I glared outside at our meat birds that were eating us out of house and home.  Earlier this summer our first round of market chickens were processed by a licensed facility in the Willamette Valley.  It was the first time we have ever hired out the processing and were uncertain of the total costs when we originally quoted price per pound to our customers. The finished product was absolutely beautiful- vacuum packed, perfectly plucked, stunning whole chickens that we could legally sell to private consumers, restaurants or stores. Only problem: the finished product resulted in zero profit.

       {Good looking processed bird}

We had lost money and Hubby Dearest was less than thrilled. Indignant at the high costs of certified non-GMO whole grain feed, the processing fees for that perfectly plucked poultry, and my insistence that this was a good idea, he demanded a return of our investment. I have promised that next round of pastured poultry will be better, with the baseline goal of not losing money. Easier said than done.
Just the other day I made a trip over the Coast Range to the whole grain mill where we buy our GMO – free feed. About 200 miles later I was home with a mom – car full of feed bags, excited to eat lunch before I unloaded. However, a few minutes for lunch turned into a few days of procrastination and as Hubby Dearest opened the back of the car to open a bag he saw the feed tag that I hadn’t bothered to check: senior horse.  Going through each bag we saw a number of senior horse and other labels, none of which were the poultry grower that we needed and were for animals we don’t even have.  For some reason the hubs was was less than thrilled as he re-loaded 50 lb bags of senior horse pellets. His temper grew and I saw our potential “profit” margin dwindling as I planned to return the bags and get the chicken feed I required. I stuck my foot in my mouth when I mentioned that throwing those bags around was at least a great work out…and for some reason Hubby Dearest didn’t quite see it that way.
So as summer draws to an end and our second round of meat birds mature into the full rounded figures of succulent chickens, I hope we have a few buyers! In the meantime I will harvest the abundant fruits and veggies in the family garden, sell off the remaining  shares of our larger livestock and hope that Hubby Dearest sees the intrinsic value of raising quality meats and eggs for our family and community.

            {Waiting for breakfast}

Summer has been a blur of bright colors, high temperatures, and blinding sun.  Coastal natives are starting to resemble dehydrated fruits while unrelenting solar rays have dried our pastures, freckled our skin, and created a seemingly never-ending line of visitors to the Oregon Coast.  It’s a testament to my typical luck that the day I had scheduled for Sweet Baby Q’s outdoor 1st Birthday Party, it was forecasted to rain. 
Fortunately for our birthday shindig, there was only a light morning mist before the heavens parted to allow the sun to warm the afternoon. A chorus of chirping birds and buzzing bees was the music for Q’s party until five minutes after the party started the bee’s decided to attack a few of the guests.  Then screaming joined the chorus – which was significantly less serene.  Luckily everyone was able to rally and celebrate Miss Q in style.

As a self-proclaimed birthday enthusiast I might have insisted on celebrating Q’s birthday for an entire week.  She may not have understood why we were singing to her for every meal, but with huge toothy grins she danced along.  Then, on the day of her birth I turned into a mother of a toddler as she took her first steps.  I could only smile and laugh through my tears as she collapsed into a fit of giggles and clapped for herself.
It was during one of these sweet moments and family celebrations that Hubby Dearest became a hero.  Our faithful dog Ted was proudly swimming back to the lake-shore with a tennis ball in his mouth when another dog started pushing Ted under the water. Too far away I watched in horror as the scene unfolded in slow motion before my eyes. Seeing the struggle, Hubby Dearest dove into the lake and separated the dogs, which allowed Ted to breath and return to dry land.  A simple act that defined Hubby as heroic, selfless, and brave, I looked at that husband of mine with renewed respect and awe.
I watched my family love and laugh with eachother as Hubby wrangled out of his soggy clothes. My stresses of unfinished chores and unanswered work messages seemed to drain away with the drips falling off Ted and Hubby as they ran around the grassy embankment.  Observing the joyful scene before me I could forget about the meeting I wasn’t prepared for at work the next day, how the farm bank account balance couldn’t afford the increased cost of feed due to pasture decline, move past the insignificant bickering session that darling spouse and I had on the car ride over, and shrug off that I hadn’t done laundry in over a week. With a bursting heart and a fresh perspective I was able to appreciate the glowing sun as it dipped into the lake and celebrate my Sweet Baby Q turn one.

When the sun sets in Melville, there is nothing more beautiful.  As I drove home after a long day of diligent keyboard clacking for my day-job, I was in awe of the warm orange hues of evening sun.  Sunbursts streaked through growing shadows hinting at twilight, giving warmth to the farmers continuing to collect round baled hay from their pastures.  I rolled the windows down, felt the cool breeze whip through the car, and was able to breathe in the evening air. It felt like the first real breath I’d had all day.
I arrived home to giggles echoing down our hallway from Hubby Dearest and Sweet Baby Q going through the bed time routine.  There were dirt crusted baby sized clothes piled in the kitchen, toys scattered in every room of the house and dishes up to my eyeballs. Perils of Daddy – daughter bonding. 
As I threw some food in the general direction of my face I checked on my essay contest submission- my chance to win some cold hard cash and allow Melville Farms to grow into its potential as a business. Not that I have had a lot of time to spare writing essays, but starting Melville Farms has meant the world to me and I want to see it flourish.   Melville Farms isn’t only the family business it is the way of life for our family.  So as I fell asleep to the twittering birds and the soft clucking of roosting hens I hoped the Wells Fargo submission review team caught a glimpse of beautiful Melville through my essay.

Want to help support Melville Farms? Please vote for us by following the link:  https://wellsfargoworks.com/project?x=us-en_viewentriesandvote_16987_21