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Archive for June 26th, 2012

Goat House Remodel

Jun
26

The goat house has no doors.

Worse, this rather big opening faces north, exposing the goats to the worst of the cold winds. Plus, it’s also facing in the wrong direction otherwise, away from the house and barnyard. There’s no way to see in to the goat house without entering the goat yard, knocking out a quick, easy check on the animals.

Last winter, any time it was expected to get very cold or snow, I moved the goats to the barn. Now I have horses, and I don’t want goats and sheep in their stalls this winter. There’s no shelter at all in the sheep field, so one will have to be constructed from scratch there, but the goat house will do just fine with a minor remodel.

I’m boarding over the existing north-facing opening and having an opening cut out here on the west side of the goat house, with a door so the goats can be shut in on cold nights. From this direction, I’ll also be able to see in to the goat house for a quick check on the animals from the barnyard, solving that problem, too.

While I was at it, I decided to repaint the goat house. I meant to match it up to the existing paint (which is the same color as the barn), but I think the red I brought home has a bit of a pink undertone to it and all the guys around here were poking fun at me for my “pink” goat house.

I told them this was a girly farm and to leave me alone! But. I’m planning to have the barn repainted next year (for the same reason I re-coated the roof) and I want all the little buildings to match the barn, so I may end up repainting the goat house to something a little more solidly barn red.

Or if I’m going to head in a pink-ish direction, maybe I should just go all the way and paint a hot pink barn!

Clover: “Stop embarrassing me, Woman.”

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The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....



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