Thankfully, one in thirteen birds took my suggestion to heart, so we ended the day with three eggs. Which quickly became three pans of cornbread. (If you like cornbread, you should try this recipe!)
Speaking of recipes, our bacon is about cured. If you ever find yourself the proud owners of pork belly, you might consider the Saveur recipe, made with standard kitchen spices. Easy!
Annabelle's milk production has leveled off at a little more than three cups a day. I entertain small hope that she will gradually build up to better production, but a little more than a gallon of milk a week is more than much of the world enjoys, and 21 cups more than we've had since we moved here. It's a provision I enjoy.
Another provision: with planting taking up at least six hours of my time most days this week, I came up quite short on my work hours. But Phil had a little job, which made up the exact amount I was short. In my life, I have always seen God's exact provision. (One favorite example from the past: despite my best efforts, travel to my brother's wedding cost our family $498 and fifty-some cents more than we had budgeted for the month. My nonChristian uncle had sold his house for a good profit and sent us a much belated wedding gift--for $500. Less than $1.50 more than exactly what we needed to cover our costs. I told my uncle this story, because to me that says "God's handiwork," but I don't think it made much impression on him.)
Our goal today was to clear the cherry orchard. Since the pigs turned over that soil, and it is close to our current dwelling, I want my garden planted there, interspersed with the trees. But until we have at least the tree lines laid out (more than just a few intermittent lines that we laid out last Saturday), I don't know where the garden is safe to plant, or where to put my cold frames.
Before we can lay out the cherries, though, we needed to remove the large trees that Phil hopes to use building a pole barn: a simple structure with logs as the supports for a roof, useful for storing hay. As we have little good pasture, hay storage could be quite helpful.
Phil designed and made a little log dolly to pull the logs out of the pasture.
Thankfully we've had no rain for a week, so the ground was firm enough to drive on. He spent a couple of hours getting the first tree out of the pasture: how to keep the dolly from flipping, how to maneuver the logs into place. The dolly actually worked better with just the wheels and axle, with the log tied both to dolly and to truck.
After he worked out the kinks of the first log, I spent the day helping him in any way I could.
When we stopped for lunch at 2pm, Phil had pulled four logs. By the end of the (interminably long) day, we had pulled three more, and cut up three oaks into three foot sections. Those sections (or "rounds") needed to be stacked, and the branches piled, ready for chipping.
We had two sequential visitors, too: we gave Doug Bush a tour, and talked with Butch.
And run over Jadon's bicycle. He had propped it up against the truck during all those visits, and after the truck ran over it, it was totaled. Helmet, too. While there is plenty in the world more distressing than a bicycle destroyed, I grieve that I won't see him rough riding along the orchard lanes, and up and down the driveway. He has delighted in riding this last week or so, and he doesn't fit Isaiah's bike any more. Too bad.
I worried that this disappointment might crush his spirit. At dinner, Phil mentioned that he learns to drive more every day. Jadon questioned the tense of the verb ("You LEARN more every day?") and Phil asked if Jadon learns more every day.
"Today I learned not to prop my bike against a vehicle!" said Jadon in a cheerful voice. I think he's going to be fine.
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