Hopeful: The Best Is Yet to Come

Intermittent rain and thunder spoiled our hopes for morning planting. But we found a handy use for the cattle trailer: workshop. Phil did a test run for our wheel hoe. (We purchased parts and directions from Herrick Kimball, saving about half the price of a commercial wheel hoe.) We still need to paint and seal it, but that can fit in with the next hardware store run.

He took apart the shipping pallet from our chipper: he will transform that wood into a top bar bee hive. So many tasks to get done during this start up season!

When the rain slacked off, we planted more apple trees, for a total of 156 in the ground. Some of the cherries are leafing out, and all the apple trees have little feeder roots poking out. We're not desperate, but we certainly feel driven. Phil had us lie down in the field for a couple minutes while we were planting: listen to the owl hoot; spy the sliver moon through the budding forest tree; feel the new green "weeds" under the back.

That's all well and good, but I preferred running down a green row of orchard trees, jumping and screaming. Or maybe that was just Spring Forth. It weirded Isaiah out: perhaps he thinks I should move with more gravitas.

I set out kelp this morning. The animals lined up to get it. Poor babies. I gave them a second bowlful. A third bowlful. A fourth bowlful. They kept eating. I finally filled their mineral bucket, and still they lined up. They must have really needed some trace elements. Even the chickens joined the party. Maybe it helped—we collected a record four eggs today.

Phil found some wild chives growing, which enhanced our kale. Added to the milk, eggs, and pork from our land, we feel a good bit more self-sufficient than we ever have before.

Spring is a season of hope. I have hope: that our garden will grow. That our trees will grow. That our children will grow. That our love will grow