For You My Love. 

My tall handsome husband. Oh where do I begin…

That beard. Those soft baby blue eyes. His clever smile. Or the hands, oh that man’s hands. I could go on… But for now I’ll spare you. 

For those of you who don’t know my husband. Here he is. Mr. Spencer Gardner. Ok, not so bearded here but hey the man hates and I mean hates to be photographed. So this is old. Moving on. 


He was born and raised here in our home state of Oregon. He’s passionate about forestry and cannabis horticulture.  A fantastic mechanic and jack of all trades, he’s never afraid of a challenge. 

It’s said his Grandpa Charlie taught him the best skill you can have is being able to read. Because, he also says,”If you can read, you can learn to fix just about anything.” 

A goofball when you need a laugh and a strong support when you need someone to lean on. 

The back bone of our homestead, and our growing family. Spencer has been my saving grace and best friend. He’s the one who keeps us upright and moving forward. I don’t know what I do without that beardy man. 

From birthing coach to playing horsie in the living room, this man will do anything for his daughters. 

All while lovingly indulging my homestead dreams and always challenging me to chase them down, his patience for the girls who surround him knows no bounds. 


In times of stress and fear, there’s my bearded man, full of positivity and a cunning remark to make you laugh or change your perspective. Never have I learned so much from a human, as I have from my husband. He’s unique with such an appetite for life and wisdom beyond his age. 


He’s our all around farm hand, part-time chef and the only one who can get Ireland to nap some days. Afternoon snuggle time is their jam. He accepts the differences in his daughters and takes every beard tug from Murphy with as much grace as he can manage. 

Becoming a father didn’t change him, not really, he’s still my same old goofy best friend who wanted only to make me laugh and help those he loved. 

Only now he’s a daddy. 


He only became more of himself. The best parts of his spirit amplified. His soul, now a piece of another human, a person he helped to make. His ability to give and keep giving has never ceased. He loves his friends and family without consequence. He will never faulter to be there for someone in need. Especially in the case of his daughters.

A rugged bearded man with the tenderness to brush his daughters hair.. even if his hands smell like gun oil.. Need I say more?


Watch out teen boys of 2027 and beyond. 

Our daughters are some lucky girls. 

Peace and Love. 

And special love to my bearded stud muffin of a husband and the father of my daughters. I love you… Happy Father’s Day 

Quincy

WYETHIA MOLLIS: Mountain Mule Ear Wild Herb

For months I’ve been sighting these beautiful flowers along the high ridges above our desert lakes and up high on mountain passes. Never knowing what they were called but yearning to snag a bunch from the nearest hill side I could. 

Well thanks to my lady farmer bestie Megan out at MoMac Homestead I have learned what little information that IS available about these stellar wildflowers. 

You’re looking at Wyethia Mollis, commonly known as Mountain Mule Ear or Woolly Mules Ear. She’s a broad leaf perennial herb indigenous to high desert climates, most commonly in California. A little fun fact says “they aren’t native to central Oregon” but the more southeastern parts of Oregon, remember how I said ‘what little info IS available.’ Well take that Google!!! We’re changing that right now.

So yes, they are in fact native to Central Oregon. Occurring in higher elevated regions with rockier soil. For you locals out there, you can find these blooms near Green Ridge outside Sisters, on the steep ridges above Lake Billy Chinook, and dispersed among the roadside hear the top of Mt. Hoods pass. 

Take care when attempting to transplant as you’ll likely do more harm to the plant than good. These old gals can grow tap roots up to 10 feet deep or more! So the chances you’ll get a viable transplant is slim to none. Your best bet is to harvest drying blooms before the birds and the wind away with all the tiny seeds inside. I did this in mid to late May this spring.  

Currently I’m waiting for them all to dry out and separate from the crispy blooms. Once I gather them all I’ll be sure to update y’all. I have literally no clue want to do with the seeds. Maybe a little more research and I can learn what’s best. 


Anybody out there a flower expert?

Peace and Love,

Quincy 

CARING FOR A BROODY MAMA HEN

Last Monday I was lucky enough to catch one of my hens brooding on a nest. It became apparent that she in fact had no eggs under her, but broody just the same. So I quickly whipped her up a little brooding box and stuck it in our old static coop.


Sure enough I moved her right into it and onto 9 mixed breed eggs.

Let me just preface this all by saying, I have no clue what I am doing…

Seriously, never done this before and I was a little freaked.

Who knows if those eggs were fertile? Not me…

But I did it anyway and there she was hours later still on the nest. Lady farmer for the win! I was so excited, jumping up for joy that I could not contain myself until a sudden wave of anxiety hit… What do I do for the next 21 days???

Well here we are folks, day 12 and still truckin’!

Margox (sillent x) is still sitting, we’re down one egg, and up one giant chicken squat (colossal egg hatching poops). Just yesterday she had her first romp about the coop. Which by the way scared the utter bejesus out of me. 

Basically all there is to do at this point, which I have found from my research, is wait the 21 days…. Maintaining clean water and keeping some food available. 

And of course I checked daily for chicken squats, because what mama wants to sit on her own poop??

Update:


What’s that I see? Looks like Margox’s a mama hen for real now!

Here we are post hatch! Seven healthy babies made it after a forced hatch on the last one after mama left the nest, after a little coaxing she went back and the little dude made it. 

What now you ask? Permaculture… 

Let mama do her job, so you don’t have to!

After a couple weeks I moved them in with the big flock, ever showing what a great mama they had by her protection. 

There ya go. Looking back I don’t know why I was so worried, these animals know what they’re doing better than me! 

And sometimes that’s just farm life. 

Peace and Love, 

Quincy