About my job...........

I work in a psychiatric hospital, as a Mental Health Therapy Aide. Some days it's difficult to see anything I do as "therapeutic". The care that chronic mentally ill patients receive today is certainly a far cry from the chains and dungeons of a hundred years ago, but state facilities are so understaffed that direct-care employees can offer only the basics-food, beds and clothing. Administration is an entirely different story. Our facility is very top-heavy, consisting of an unbelievable number of "big wigs" who spend their days writing policies and procedures, people who never have any patient contact. Our hospital has cosmetic work done on a regular basis. New entryways costing the taxpayers millions of dollars, state of the art monitoring devices (of staff!!), yet patients wear socks full of holes and lack pillows. So many of our patients crave a just little bit of attention, someone to play cards with them or take them for a walk, or surprize them with a soft drink or a new hair ribbon. There is no extra time for cards, trust me. It's really very sad.......

This is a tough job. Not many people are cut out for it. Some of our patients are "behavioral". Good attention or bad, it's all the same to them, it's attention. We have a female who has decided that inappropriate urination and self-induced vomiting works for her. Without going into the details, it's horrible. Some scream for hours on end, some hit and scratch and bite. I'm not ashamed to say that I do not like my job. I'm a compassionate woman, but I'd rather be doing something else for a living. I probably will not leave as the benefits are excellent, and I feel too old to start over somewhere else. Not a day goes by that I don't try to think of another way to support myself.

I guess you could say I've been busy!!

Haven't written in several months, I suppose it's due to being so busy "living my life". I've started a market garden, have lots of new purebred chicks, and am now a beekeeper! I hope that I can find the time to make enties here with a bit more regularity. I've been keeping a journal over on The New Farm, a website hosted by Rodale Press, so one could go there to find some in depth info on the past few months of my life.

My favorite bread recipe

Most of the time when I bake, I don't use a recipe from a cookbook. I make it up as I go, and this bread is no exception. Now, I don't recommend you just throw items into a bowl and see what happens, but if you've spent a good amount of time baking, you get an idea of how much of this or that ingredient you need. This goes for any cake or cookie, also. After a while you just *know* how much baking soda or sugar you need, and it becomes second nature.

Hearty Wheat Bread

8 cups freshly ground Montana Gold wheat flour
1 cup wheat gluten
1 cup oat flakes
1 cup raw wheat germ
1 cup raw sunflower seeds
1 cup raw sesame seeds
2 teaspoons salt

Combine these ingredients in a very large bowl and set aside.

Measure 2 cups very warm water into a medium bowl. Add 1/3 cup honey and stir a bit to combine. Add to this 3 big tablespoons yeast. Let this sit for at least 5 minutes. When yeast is nice and foamy, pour over your flour mixture. Combine with a wooden spoon for a few minutes until everything is distributed evenly. You will need to add another cup or two of warm water at this point. Let this sit for a few minutes, as whole wheat flour needs time to absorb the liquid. Knead this for at least 10 minutes, and then let it raise, covered, for about 45 minutes. Punch down and divide into 2 greased loaf pans, and make a pan of round rolls. Let raise, covered, for about 30 minutes. Bake at 350 degrees for about 40 minutes for rolls and an hour for the loaves. Wait 15 minutes and turn out onto racks to cool.

This is incredible toasted, and makes wonderful sandwiches.

There are many good reasons to grow your own food.
Have you ever wondered why the produce in the big grocery stores all looks so perfect? Not a blemish to be found. All the fruit is uniform in size and color, and usually as hard as a rock. The bananas are almost as green as the grass. There's really no way around it when the fruit has to be shipped from several thousand miles away.

I planted a dozen fruit trees when I moved onto my land. A few apple trees, a sour cherry, and a couple of peach, pear and plum. It will be several years, even if all goes well, before I see a significant harvest. I think I may be able to barter fruit for some of my other needs, perhaps wheat berries from Down to Earth, or hay, or dried corn for the animals. My fruit will be grown organically, with a minimum amount of non-toxic spray used. I think dormant oil first thing in the spring, and then the ducks ought to be able to take care of the bugs. I plan on turning the sheep loose in the orchard once the trees are mature, so I no longer will have to mow the grass out there.

Country life definitely agrees with me!

I eat fresh eggs almost daily, with home-baked bread from organic wheat that I grind myself, and real butter. I have a lovely mixed flock of chickens who have plenty of room to scratch around and get their exercise and fresh air. I have Golden-laced Wyandottes, Buff Orpingtons, a White Rock, and several mixed-breeds that were born here on the farm. There are five roosters now, and it can be a bit noisy in the early morning hours! Oh, and can't forget the ducks. My best layer of all is a Khaki Campbell duck named Lucy. She presents me with an egg every single day. I keep most of her eggs for my own use and sell the big, brown chicken eggs to the ladies at work. I can't tell any difference between duck and chicken eggs.

There is a huge difference in homegrown and store-bought eggs, though. Everyone comments on the bright orange color of the yolks in my farm fresh eggs. Before I had my own hens, I refused to eat factory-farmed eggs. Those poor chickens live a horrible existance. They are kept in tiny, cramped cages. Their beeks are cut off in an effort to keep the pecking to a minimum, making it very difficult to eat. They are constantly flooded with antibiotics because of sicknesses from the overcrowded living conditions. Male chicks are killed at birth, because they don't have the growth potential of a meat bird. The males are either suffocated in large barrels during the sexing process, or thrown in huge grinders while still alive, on their way to becoming pet food. I don't claim to know everything, but I don't believe that God ever intended us to be so cruel and selfish that we hold ourselves in such a high place over His helpless creatures. No, I don't think He meant for it to be this way.

How it all began.............

First, let me tell you a little about myself. I am a forty-something year old single woman, living on my 5 acres in upstate New York. Another very important piece of information-I am a vegetarian. I am at a point in my life where I no longer care if I *fit in*, and that has freed me up to live exactly as I choose.

I have surrounded myself with animals, none of whom have a purpose other than to be happy and live comfortable, pleasant lives. They will not end up on someone's dinner plate. As the sole human being here, I cohabitate with my furry/feathered friends as I see fit. We are very happy with this arrangement. Our family consists of myself, four dogs, six cats, three goat wethers, two ewe sheep, two rabbits, eighteen chickens and three ducks.

I was born and raised in rural New York, the oldest of six children. When I was twelve years old, my father brought home some chicks that a friend had given him. That was the beginning of an ordeal that formed who I am today. First came the chicks, followed shortly by piglets and calves. Dad said "Don't get attached, honey, they're not pets". Well, I became very attached. I soon found myself hating my father and refusing to eat meat.

I spent a lifetime trying to find someone who understood how traumatised I was the day I came home from school and found my animal friends slaughtered. I have learned that it really doesn't matter if no one ever understands; I am the only one who has to somehow make it right with myself. Dad is long gone. My life is full, and my babies are all safe and content. Somehow, it's OK now.