Total Stop

Thursday night Phil was finished with everything he could do. Friday morning, he headed over to Butch's house. After the big storm, Butch had several large trees come down, and he got his forklift stuck while cleaning up. Phil went over to help. After several hours, he came home, without Butch and with the forklift freed, then stuck again. High centered.

Butch's excavator was getting repaired. Then he was going to dig out the forklift. But all Friday, and all today, Phil was a bit at loose ends: beautiful weather, energy and drive ... and no way to move forward.

That's a frustrating place to be.

In truth, he's had other things to do. Friday, the cows had to make their long move, heading through the headgate for the third time. Phil got three of fifteen cows through the gate on his own. Then I came to help (which was really necessary).

Although the process still wasn't swift, the cows are figuring out what we want them to do. Phil managed to get Snowman into the chute, and used a single strand of electric wire (not electrified) to block the exit. Snowman went almost all the way through, made a rather remarkable turn, and came to the electric line at the back. He stood there for a while. Phil went and stood in front of him, gesturing to turn around and go back.

Snowman lowered his head and thrust his horns around. He wasn't moving, but just bobbing his head. Phil kept gesturing.

"Phil, I just read in a magazine that that lowered head is a threatening motion. Maybe you should move away. Put another wire between the two of you."

Good thing I keep reading and learning! He took my advice.

Then Phil took the bucket of molasses then, and, reaching over the cattle panel headgate, gradually walked Snowman through. Snowman has a sweet tooth. Good thing.

Success!

Charity, born last November, has needed to have her collar loosened for some time. Last time through, I forget how she evaded the head gate. This time, her evasion was unforgettable. She got into the head gate, then made a remarkable leap and burst through.

I didn't think we'd have success getting her back again. But when all but two stubborn calves had gone through, Phil and I walked to the herd and cut her and her mother out with a bit of wire. They walked calmly back to the holding pen, and Charity went in. She wasn't thrilled about it, but we managed to loosen her collar. Phil was greatly relieved. I was thankful that the whole process took an extra five minutes or so: I was expecting a few hours.

Jadon came in for dinner with a stick he had been carving to a point. He held it up and growled, "This is a stick up!" Oh, did we laugh!

Today, I attempted cleaning up around the homestead, but got too discouraged that few things have places. It's really hard to clean up when almost nothing has a place. (And half the things have no recognizable function, either.) So I went to nature and spent almost nine hours weeding the greenhouse. The quarter that had been tilled, then neglected sprouted an amazing array of grass and weeds. Those had all set seed, but the seed had not yet dropped. I figured that if I had the time and energy, it was worth it to get those seeds out, rather than wrestle the next seven years.

One of the benefits of days that had a heat index of 115 is that now, days in the low 90s feel pleasantly temperate; a delight to be outdoors! I would not have guessed that back in late May: then the low 90s felt like an assault.

Lacking other pressing tasks, Phil headed to a hole in the field. A very nasty vine, with a scratchy texture, enormous seed pods, and a tendency to cause a skin reaction has been sprouting from this hole for a year. Last year, I pushed any tendrils back into the hole, preventing the spread. This year, we look down at the former market garden and see one bright splash of green.

No longer! Phil took all the scrap wood from the back of the truck, all the boxes we could find, and tossed them in the hole. He added some gas and lit the hole.

Several hours later, the vine had finally cooked to death. All the unusable scrap lumber was nothing but ashes.

Although this may not have been as satisfying as visible progress on the building, it felt good to clean up some of the noxious plants around the farm. A productive day.

(It ended with hamburgers. I cooked up almost three pounds of meat. I didn't get any of it: the boys and Phil were more hungry than I expected. I figured I could reheat my Thai food in the hamburger grease, to make the leftovers a bit more rich. But when I came in to eat the leftovers, Mr. Bigglesworth had gotten there before me. The pan was licked clean. Fie!)