Third Abortive Trip (but the work goes on)

Phil and I loaded Buttercup on the truck before breakfast. She was extremely recalcitrant, but through extreme pushing (both manually and with a sheet of plywood) and sheer persistence, she finally walked up the heavy pallet and into the truck back. Considering that, when we brought the boys up for processing, that stage took us until about 3pm, we were doing really well! (It helped to have all the fencing already built, and the first trip done already.)

We had planned to have Phil pick up feed on his way back, but I suddenly realized that the farm we'd buy a couple tons from might not have that quantity available at all times. I called, and, sure enough: that wouldn't be possible the same day. If I had known I needed to plan ahead, I would have called, but I am still in my "Costco: vast quantities available at all times" mindset.

In the end, my disappointment didn't matter. Phil got about twenty minutes down the road and called me: "I'm not going anywhere."

Sure enough: for the third time, he had started out and had to turn back for truck problems (first time: bringing the van for routine maintenance; second time: driving out with the trailer to pick up the bull; third time: 300 pound pig in the bed of the truck). Same problem, actually: the death wobble continues.

We remain incredibly grateful that we paid to have someone truck the bull to us. And we're thankful the truck worked well enough long enough to get the greenhouse supplies and do a dump run.

Buttercup remains in the back of our truck. It was hard enough to get her loaded, we're not sure what to do with her now. If that seems cruel, I will simply say that all confinement pigs are held in much smaller quarters their whole lives. Not that we want to do anything like confinement pig operations, but we are at a loss, for the moment.

Phil needed some time to drink a few cups of coffee and to immerse himself in the last of the before he was ready to work on today's project. But, after an hour or so, he had emerged from the pit of despair, and headed down to continue to work on cattle fencing.

I spent the afternoon potting on the yellow onions. I remain amazed that onions planted last Thursday already have rootlets emerging out the bottom of their 3/4 inch blocks. Our neighbor Julie stopped by, right as I was gathering more potting soil. She and her family are building a lovely home on the lot to the south, and it was pleasant to have a visit with a female neighbor. Butch and Phil always have more to talk about, like construction; I had a visit about children and books and college visits.

When I was done with the onions, and the four intrepid leeks that have sprouted, I went to see how Phil was doing.

I headed down and came to the corner where there had been no fencing. Then I walked and walked, and finally came to the end of the fence that had, miraculously, sprung up today. Phil had done, I would guess, at least 20 panels, giving us 320 feet or so of fencing along extremely rough terrain. When I think about last winter, where he would sometimes get only five panels in, I am amazed by how much more stamina he has. Or how much more thawed the ground is.

He is also fencing along the creek, and the lower clearing is coming along well.

So what began in deep frustration ended up having fellowship and infrastructure progress. Great!