My Gift Day

Some days are gifts, and this was one.

We went to milk Bianca without any restraints other than a collar and lead, tied close to the fence, and she planted her feet and didn't move. I couldn't believe it. Was the strain of nursing two babies for a day so transformative? Did Belle, finally forcing her way in to eat, break Bianca to milking? Or was she just so happy to have no board tickling her legs, no pressure on her tail? I don't know, but I am very glad.

She didn't milk much more, still only 9 pounds, but we're experimenting with twice a day milking, so her total for today was 13 pounds, but some of that probably was taken from tomorrow morning's milking.

After my peaceful, pleasant time with Bianca, I entered the house to find four little blonde heads under the sleeping bag, listening to Jadon reading aloud. How precious!

My dear friend Melanie from Charlottesville stopped by (while I was indisposed, sadly, so I didn't even see her!) and delivered both needle and thread, which I have been sorely missing, and an incredible bouquet from her garden. I think she could go into flower growing and arranging—what an array!

(My friend Tamara once said I reminded her of an orange dahlia, so there you go: see if you can see the resemblance.)

Phil came in while the boys and I were doing school, and suggested we come out and help him weed. In the spring, I had planted 150 strawberry plants, and about 30 berry bushes, in hopes of farm fresh fruit, this year even.

Much of it died within a week or two, which was extremely discouraging. Phil haphazardly kept it mown, but I didn't even look at the desolate mess. The area looked like this.

But Phil found strawberries today! Of the six varieties I planted, he found a row that had 22 yet-living plants in it! And two other rows had over twenty. (Three rows had only about 10, and they look a bit scarce, for sure.) Each plant we found was like buried treasure, or a little prodigal son returning home (that which we thought was dead is alive!).

Jadon and Isaiah came and weeded a row apiece, and Phil and I weeded a good bit. Then Phil got out the wheelhoe he made earlier this year. I had tried to use it, but I think it takes a good bit of effort, as Phil got several blisters on his hands.

But it worked! the horribly overgrown area is now cleared, ready for, well, whatever needs to happen to strawberries in the winter. (I should probably look that up.) And really ready for sending runners next spring.

This evening, Phil and I cut up and ground the rest of BB the lamb. We got 20 pounds of usable meat off that little guy, which, if lamb sausage sells for $15 a pound, could be $300. Of course, the ridiculous amount of effort to kill, cut up, and grind the meat, as well as the hay feed and the trauma of his birth on January 2 this year doesn't really make for any profit at all, but we have meat now for a couple of weeks, raised entirely on our farm. I like that.

We also got 6% of the way through spreading this year's minerals, but that is a story in itself, and I am heading to bed. It's been a long day.