With the rains this week, things are growing again. We've eaten a little okra three or four times this week, and I like it, fried in plenty of butter, sometimes with a couple of eggs thrown in. The boys aren't too keen on it, but that's okay.
I found two tomato horn worms on my tomatoes. No wonder I've had basically no crop. I can't believe how large they are: fatter than my middle finger. And they poop plenty! I captured them, because I was too disgusted to try to smoosh it. How many guts would come out!
I didn't plant anything new, but the current garden has hope now of growing better. I had left some weeds to grow up around the edges, since I wondered if the extra sun would burn the plants. In the spaces where there was less (or no) shade, the plants are largest and strongest, so I think I will keep the plants growing in full sun.
Phil has been scything and mowing quite a bit. After the sheep eat all they can, he figured out that if he scythes the woody stuff first, then uses the John Deere mower afterwards, it gives the most finished, groomed look. And almost our whole cherry orchard has been grazed. It didn't take the sheep long!
While Phil was scything, he came across a nest of about 20 eggs, all but three guinea eggs. (Remember, of our five guineas, we have four males. The lone female paired up with one of the males, and they have been separate for about a month. She suddenly stopped laying in the nesting boxes, and we haven't been able to find her nest.) The broody guinea must have been away temporarily, since every time we've wandered over since, she's been sitting on her nest. Based on the time we've had no eggs from her, and the number of eggs in her nest, I would estimate that she has been sitting and hatching for about two weeks, so she has about two more weeks to go, since guineas need 28 days to hatch their babies, a full week more than chickens.
Guineas are not very good mothers, and I wonder if she hatches the chicken eggs, a full week before her own emerge, if she will cease sitting on hers. We shall see.
The amazing thing is, she is pretty hard to spot when she's nesting. Can you see her above? (She looks like a log or a piece of bark.)
That should make her more obvious.
Phil found a box turtle, too, and brought it to us inside. Box turtles can pull in legs, head, and tail, and shut up their shell so that there is absolutely no flesh exposed. I held the turtle, and the sudden motion as he emerged startled me. He began to thrash his legs, as if crawling in the air, and I set him down. He crawled swiftly for a dark spot: under the dresser. I had a vision of a starved turtle dead under the dresser, smelling up the place, so I snagged him just before he reached his hideout.
Jadon, not traditionally the most animal-friendly of my children, held the turtle briefly before we put it back outside, where it belonged.
Phil has also figured out how to contain the escape-happy pigs. He strung electric line around the top edge of their pen. They shock their sweet noses and haven't made the effort to escape. I'm thankful. The barrows (castrated males) were a bit larger when we bought them, and they continue to outstrip the gilt (unbred female). I don't think it's merely because they push her out of the way for feed: she holds her own. I think she just doesn't gain as easily as the males.
It could be that that was part of the reason our pigs of last winter were so expensive: both females.
We had a great dinner: pork butt (which, for the uninformed, is actually pork shoulder; why they would name it after such an unpleasant part of the anatomy is beyond me). Also onions, okra, and lemons, all from our land.
We're no where near self-sufficient, but that's a good start!
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