More Potting On

I spent hours today potting on: 100 more Roma tomatoes, 50 basil (planted on Saturday and already up enough to need potting on!), almost 50 statice, a few peppers.

I put up a cattle panel in one of my garden beds and planted snow peas and snap peas. They probably should have gone in the ground a couple of weeks ago, but I do what I can.

My onion starts, now resting on the ground to free space for the heat-loving tomatoes, are about eight inches tall and have sprouts coming out the bottom of the tray and growing into the weed barrier on the floor of the greenhouse. I had hoped to get them planted this weekend, but the heavy rain on Sunday has made the ground so soggy that the tractor cannot even drive in the field, let along plow and till. I try not to despair as the days slip past.

Clementine is doing well overall. I think she has some mild form of scours, enough that, when we went to dock her tail, it was already stuck up to itself and required soaking (and, finally, cutting) through the dung to free it. Stinky and unpleasant.

As I was reading to the boys this evening, Jadon was shining a flashlight out the window. I don’t remember him ever doing so before, but as he did, he said, “The goats are out!”

Sure enough, the goats must have finally realized that they could climb up the compost pile and hop the fence easily, which they did under cover of darkness. My entire crop of garlic was at risk, had Jadon not used his flashlight.

I would have been thrilled to have Phil kill the bucks, but we have other things to get done first, and so they are stuck back in the pen with Bianca and Snowman.

After three extremely grumpy days in a row, I finally had to admit that I still react to milk. I had had a bit of our own butter on Friday and smoothie on Saturday. Since I didn’t dissolve into a depressed puddle of tears right away, I had hopes that, after a three month dairy break, I could now drink our milk again. But, sadly, no. I am distressed, angry, and mean, and would prefer to be kind, happy, and hopeful.

It frustrates me that a delicious, healthy food that our farm produces I am unable to drink right now. It probably frustrates me more than it should.

Looking at the sheep, we think a few more might be ready to give birth: swollen back ends and filled out bags.