Black Widow and Big Decisions

On Monday Phil finished spreading minerals on the orchard (I overbought, so we have about 1500 pounds leftover; which means that Phil spread 8500 pounds, or thereabouts, by hand!), and I planted 2 pounds, 12 ounces of hardneck garlic.

We looked over at one point, and saw Abraham sitting in Butch's mineral spreader, taking handfuls of minerals out and tossing them on the ground. Joe was pretend driving. We sure laughed!

The boys have enjoyed the perfect, 70s weather. Even though they get very dirty, I am happy they have such fun together. All four will go up to the well head and play in the tailings for hours. And this morning, when I come into the trailer after doing some dishes, Jadon was reading aloud to Isaiah, while Abraham and Joe played Playmobil nearby. So idyllic!

I forgot to mention that last Saturday, I was moving a few bags of minerals at the end of the day, getting them under cover in case of rain. I was headed over to get the last bag, and Phil offered to get it. He hoisted it on his shoulder, then set it on the truck bed.

Isaiah looked at it and said, "Hey, Dad, there's a black spider there."

A black widow. Phil killed it—after it had been inches from his head and hands.

It struck me that I had prayed for protection that morning, which I don't often remember to do anymore. I remember feeling sheepish: how dangerous could mineral spreading be, anyway?

How great is the Spirit's guidance, that gives us what we need, even to the point of nudging me to pray, that the spider wouldn't strike.

Tyson had hoped to disc the neighbor's land on Monday, but he called with strep throat. We didn't have the seed in hand yet, anyway, and now it has rained well over an inch, so I don't know when Tyson will be able to work, nor when we will be able to broadcast the seed (which arrives tomorrow).

On Monday, we also got an unexpected phone call from the farmer with Berkshires and the market garden. He wondered if we'd be willing to meet again, since, really, we are just about perfect for that place. (As Phil said: if not for the community we have here, and the orchard and the work we've put into our land, it would be an easy decision.)

When we met before, I had an either/or idea in my mind: we would either take over Richard's, or stay here. Between those options, we chose to stay here.

But maybe the option would be both/and. Would it be possible to continue grazing on this land, to continue to do maintenance here, and maybe run some pigs, while also working Richard's?

That's the question of the hour, and we're really back-and-forth in our minds. How many hours are there in a day—how many trips to Spring Forth would we drive before we absolutely hated the commute?

And yet our home equity, savings, and inheritance money won't last forever. What if we could build the farm out of farm earnings?! How great would that be!

We've done so much simply by reading books. Richard would be a mentor and teacher: animal conformation, market garden rotation, pig butchering, marketing techniques (not to mention built in market!). There is so much more to learn, and to have a teacher sounds so appealing.

On the other hand, Phil feels pretty confident that it wouldn't take us 10 years to get to

We could, potentially, hire workers for the orchard and the garden. That's an appealing thought: it wouldn't have to all be us.

So, the possibility of moving is again on the table. And there hasn't been an easy answer forthcoming.

We unloaded what we hope is the last of the large shipments today: three large pallets of cedar posts, for fencing. Phil maneuvered deftly in order to unload the ridiculously long pallets. The driver was also quite competent, directing the raising and lowering of the gate.