The Answer to a Cabbage Question

When Butch came this morning, he lifted up the tiller with his big tractor in about two seconds. Sometimes you just need the horsepower. He told us that one time all his machines were in the shop except the mower. He went out to mow and his wife said, "Are you sure you want to do that?"

Butch said that he thought he was; was there a reason he should be hesitant? Ida replied, "When you get stuck, what will you use to pull yourself out?"

Butch said he drove more circumspectly, and so avoided any difficulty. That time.

The bees seemed more relaxed today, with their wider openings. They haven't needed nearly as much sugar water lately. The first week or two, each hive used about a pint a day. Lately, they drink through a pint every three or four days. They are gaining self-sufficiency! I checked the debris trays, and saw cappings from emerging babies all over; a great sign. And less pollen dropped (which, I hope, means they are getting more adept at handling the stuff). So the bees are doing well.

The bull remains with the eight females in the lower pasture. We are fairly certain he bred one of the two-year-olds. We had hoped for her to be bred in about three more months, but since we're not sure how to get him up to the upper pasture again, it is what it is. I continue to pray that the three babies, all less than a year, will be of no interest to Snowman during his time down there. Having dealt with the bad lambing this week, I have zero desire to have baby heifers trying to give birth.

I haven't had spelt in almost half a year. I ate some of Abraham's cake last night and was unhappy to find my former companion, Despair, show up again this morning. Since Despair is a usual result of spelt consumption, I wasn't surprised, but to see the farm through Despair's eyes is uncomfortable. The dead pluot tree; the hazelnut bushes that don't look like they'll make it (though they weren't looking good when we planted them, really; and that goes back to my failure to heel them in in a timely manner); the boys, grumpy and a bit lazy, rather than shining beacons of righteousness and joy like I would prefer. Hmm. Maybe I wasn't really being a shining beacon myself.

How silly. Most of the garden grows well; most of the trees grow well. I noticed about five apple trees without about five apples each on them. This isn't much of a harvest, but I wasn't expecting, nor hoping for, any fruit this year, so a few little treats to anticipate is fun.

We also had a porta-potty pumper come out to remove the waste from the motor home. Since it is stuck in place for the foreseeable future (did I mention that the last time Phil drove it, as he was parking it, it threw a rod and the engine needs to be rebuilt?), the waste that could have been dumped by driving to a Kampground now needed an alternative disposal method. Happily, the porta-potty pumper was the option.

Driver Matthew, when he finished, came down to look at the garden. And he gave me a valuable tip: take off the enormous outer leaves of the cabbage so that they can head! This was welcome advice, indeed. I had even asked God yesterday when the cabbages would head up: they have 18" leaves, gorgeous leaves, but no center core. Apparently, if I remove those, the plant will focus on its core; a more buyer-friendly option.

Sounds like a sauerkraut-making day is in my future. Bring it on!

My peas (snow and sweet) grow higher by the day. I have been picking them too soon, I realized, as soon as I see them. If I wait until they are rounded out and plump, they are much sweeter. Now, to develop the patience required to let them hang on the vines a bit longer. I love the purple snow pea flowers!

The apricot tree needs a special mention, with such beautiful crimson top leaves, like just a touch of flame.

And finally, my special gift. Phil had buried the roaming layer hen's nest of choice in the compost pile. Prudent. But the hens had found another spot to lay their precious four eggs a day, and try as I might, I had not found it. I suspected they had found a place in the tall growth around the orchard, and figured we had little chance of finding those eggs before they spoiled in the heat (eventually) or a person or animals crushed them. Jadon, though, found them today, hiding only feet away from the hydrant we use daily. Two dozen eggs, covered by the milk thistle (with seeds valuable for liver cleansing) and other weeds.

Despair has gone. I will not miss him.