The Great Blackberry Planting of '11

With thunderstorms predicted tomorrow, I wanted to try to get all 100 blackberries planted along one of our fences. At 3:30, I had only 45 planted, so I determined to be more focused, and as the sun set, I got the 100th in the ground. We ate late (and the boys just had self-serve fruit for lunch), but the great blackberry planting of '11 is complete.

It was one of the most pleasurable days I've had on the farm. Although the temperature was in the 80s, a gentle breeze blew enough that it didn't feel overbearing. Joe tagged along some of the time, telling me interesting facts in his ever-expanding vocabulary (including that he was stung by a bee last year. I must have blocked that out, if it did happen. But assuming it did, for him to be able to tell now, a year later, an event that happened before he had words to describe it—that's pretty impressive!).

Mostly, though, my heart sang because the soil that I had expected to be hard as clay pots and sharp-edged was actually delightful. My shovel sank in easily, and the top half inch or so was usually darker colored than the clay, showing that the animal impact (both manure and hoof) had added organic matter to the soil. I was happy, too, that the fence was already in place, so I didn't have to wait for Phil or try to drive T-posts in myself.

It was a moment of fruition (though not LITERALLY, yet): we put up the fence to contain the animals; we grazed the animals, and they took out the weeds and small trees. Now the animals are moving on, as we use their former paddocks for vegetables and small fruit. The soil is ready, the infrastructure in place.

And now 100 blackberries are growing, with bees nearby, ready to pollinate. (Celestial hive is on the left, Celadon on the right.)

Lest you think Phil was slacking: not at all. He spent a day doing the mundane, necessary tasks that keep the farm running: calls about hay, and concrete, and extra help; errands for whey and hardware and bank; spreading peat moss for the greenhouse, watering the cows, making a new chick feeder, paperwork. Less fulfilling than blackberries, I expect, and nothing very tangible to see at the end of the day. But the cows don't die of starvation or dehydration; the pigs are fed, the metal building will (eventually) get done.

Life is good.