We had a hint before, when our chipper/shredder broke repeatedly the first year, but now we know. Fix equipment.
Phil went to bring the cows hay today and the lift arm of the tractor didn't work. This has happened before and self-repaired, but this time, no improvement was forthcoming. Apparently, tractors need maintenance work every 200 hours, and we've put about that on since we purchased ours. Time to bring the tractor to the shop.
Which brings up the interesting question of conveying it thence. A tractor shouldn't drive on main roads. The repair shop offered a pickup and delivery fee, which would run about $400. Happily, though, Butch has a truck and trailer. How do farmers survive without helpful neighbors with many toys? I don't know. (They pay the $400, and count their blessings that they don't have to buy a new truck and trailer, perhaps.)
That took much of the day, by the time Butch's tractor delivered hay to the cows, and returned to his home, our tractor went to Butch's for towing, and all the other swaps (hay spear on, hay spear off, trailer on, trailer off). I was happy to read to the boys peaceably in the home, since that sort of thing is like skiing: a whole lot of spent time with not much to show.
Checking his watch, Phil prayed as he left that he would reach the shop on time. They closed at 5pm, and he rolled in at 4:55pm. He returned home, thanking the Lord for the timing.
And for the rain, that allowed him not to worry too much about the irrigation that isn't happening.
On his return at 6:30, Phil was getting a drink when he noticed that it looked like we only had four pigs. I chuckled, since often a pig will bury itself in the hay so much that it remains unseen, but, no, Charles the boar really didn't seem to be in the pen. We slopped the pigs and four large chunks came. Could Charles have suffocated under the mound of hay? I hopped in the pen and gingerly poked the hay with a fork, but he wasn't there.
No, he was down with Fern, Catherine, and Snowman, and despite being tempted with whey, he showed no inclination to follow Phil back up the hill.
So we put up a second electric line that we hope will contain him overnight. By tomorrow morning, he may be more interested in feed.
Fern's udder is getting a bit bigger, and Phil watched her back end contract and expand, but her teats remain wrinkled. I have heard that when they become smooth, birth is imminent, so we continue to watch.
I confess to a certain planting exhaustion at this point. There is still plenty to plant, but I found my mind asking, "What's the point? These melons will all die without floating row covers." So I went up to make breakfast, and just didn't find the time to return.
And because we have no tractor, the two sections of land that are mostly prepped cannot be tilled yet. Perhaps I should take this respite as a gift, hoping to be in a better frame of mind when I have fields to plant the last 80 pounds of potatoes, the winter squashes, the sunflowers.
What's in the ground, with the possible exception of the melons and summer squashes (which are mostly growing, but suffering bug pressure), grows well. A second planting of cilantro, and kale, backed by the final tomatoes.
I saw today that the first planting of corn is peaking up from next to the transplanted squashes/melons.
These are the not largest tomato plants, but they look so orderly!
And even the 200 sweet potato slips that I planted in the depleted subsoil on the tops of swales are holding their own. They looked SO bad by the time I planted most of them, I checked a few days back with trepidation, and was thrilled to see little vines standing upright every foot. Good for them!
In the lull before tomato harvest, the boys and I are doing some school. We started reading one of my childhood favorites today, By the Great Horn Spoon!. The boys were supposed to read this to themselves, but I know they will love it, too, and decided to read it aloud to share it with them. Jadon and Isaiah both laughed, predictably, at the Captain almost setting his beard on fire, but I was surprised to hear even 5-year-old Abraham chuckle. I love that part of homeschooling.
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