More, More, More!

Phil was out plowing and tilling a second garden bed this morning even before I got started milking.

He made piles of roots: that must have been a section with many trees.

Shortly after breakfast, he went to pick up a new hay bale. It filled the back of the truck so that, even with both of us pushing with all our strength, it wouldn't budge. We finally got tree limbs as levers, and used those to roll the bale onto the ground. The lower pasture cows were quite happy.

The new mama cow, yet unnamed, and her nine-month calf were in the holding pen with the bull and Bianca.

The calf really doesn't belong in there, since she is old enough to go in heat, but if she were to be bred now, she would be too young to deliver safely. She needs more time to grow. The new animals are fairly skittish, though, and the mama didn't let us get close. We tried using an electric line to corral them, as we can for all our other animals, but these cows, on an Amish farm for the last year, are not trained to electric and sauntered underneath our "barrier." Hmm.

Happily, the baby hasn't nursed, and had no real allegiance to her mother. I ended up offering the baby kelp in my hand, and she ate through three handfuls, at which point she let me scratch her ears and rub her neck. We grabbed her, and haltered her, and Phil led her down to the lower pasture. The calf comes up to his waist, and it was so sweet to see them together, in the dappled sunlight along the road.

A space in my heart opened up to that little heifer. She's much more manageable than our own calves, much more tractable. Born in a "B" year, she came in a "C" year. Is there a good name with both B and C? I had tried "Baby Cow-y," but after the happy contact, I thought "Beautiful C__," and Phil said "Cleopatra." So maybe the baby is Beautiful Cleopatra, or Cleo, for short.

In the lower pasture, Phil walked her over to the hay and other cows. Along the way, she tried to bolt under the electric line there. One touch on her sensitive nose, and she was well-trained to stay away! Little Beatrice came over and played chase with her through the underbrush.

The mama cow was dehorned at the previous owners. She had her horns, then, for about seven years before they were surgically removed. In a pen with two bovines and two bucks, all still with horns, leaves her completely defenseless. She must give way even to the bucks, who she probably outweighs by about ten times. It makes me sad. (Below see Bianca's magnificent horns, and mama cow's bare head.)

My heart goes out to this mama cow. She has the saddest face I've seen in a long time. I hope our farm will become a place of rest and healing for her. As you can see from the photo below, her udder is in bad shape. She's had a hard time of it, I fear.

After seeing the cows taken care of, Phil then went to seed the neighbor's land. He spread about 1000 pounds of peas and triticale over 5 hours. He needs to do another pass to spread the grass seed, but that will happen another day.

When he was getting started, the seeder simply would not hook up correctly. He went to check on something, and I thought, "isobel Kuhn would pray, 'If this frustration is from You, I accept it. If it's not from you, I reject it.'" I prayed that, and the seeder immediately began working.

For myself, I was in the greenhouse.

I realized that the tomato and cucumber transplants go from 8 cubic inches of space to 64 cubic inches, which is enormous. It's enormous in volume, which requires much hauling of potting soil and water; enormous in footprint, which requires space in growing trays and in the greenhouse. And rather than 50 2" pots per tray, I can fit 8 4" pots easily, with two more, if I cut them down and re-form them.

I don't have space for 70 more trays in my greenhouse. I barely have space for seven. What to do?

I have no idea. Cold frames might be a possibility. It could be that I need to be content with 100 tomato plants, not 500 (which was, perhaps, a bit too ambitious anyway). Rather than being frustrated with how much I can't plant, I can be thankful for every flat I do get planted; thankful that I don't have to pay $5 per started tomato; thankful that, even without the big greenhouse, we've still gotten a lot done. (The 30 cukes, potted on below, could, possibly, be sufficient. I think. I don't really know how many cukes a single plant can grow.)

In fun growing news: we got our Wood Prairie mix of potatoes today. I already had Yukon Golds, so I added the new Yukons to the batch that I've been waiting to sprout for a couple of weeks now. Notice the difference, in the background, between our fresh potatoes and the two week old seed potatoes; notice the little sprout forming in the foreground. Very exciting.

We also got seven other varieties, in different shapes and colors.

Beautiful!

While Phil and I have been working hard, the boys have mostly been left to themselves. Joe comes with me most places, and he's still young enough to enjoy hamming it up for the camera, as here, when he picked some dandelions.

The others spend hours drawing, reading, and playing in the mud.

Joe gets his share of dirty, too, though.