Despite his sinus-infection state, Phil managed a trip to the dump yesterday. He did the morning chores. But mostly, he sat, miserable, on the folding chair in one of our two rooms.
Today he grew worse, adding flu-like symptoms to a painful head. I took boys numbers 2 and 4 to run errands. We went to three stores, the post office, and the gas station and were gone six and a half hours. More than four of those hours were spent driving. That remains, perhaps, the most bizarre part of my life: as I loaded the treasures from Costco into the van, I realized I had a two-hour drive yet ahead of me. Rats!
The Bessettes had a death in the family, so we are watching their farm. This proved providential timing. Phil took the three non-errand children with him and rested and soaked in the tub all day. After I joined him there and fed the children dinner, the five young ones and I returned to the homestead, leaving Phil to convalesce in peace. I hope it’s effective—I miss him!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Lots Going On
Excepting the pigs, all our animals are in one pen right behind our office trailer. It is fun to have chickens under foot (as the electric net does not contain them well) and sheep and goats close at hand. I looked over yesterday and saw one of the babydolls standing with the mineral bucket upturned on her head. Sadly, Annabelle the goat charged the babydoll, who escaped by charging over the (flexible) electric net. In that charge, the mineral bucket fell off, and the babydoll found herself free, in a field with some little stands of uneated oats.
I expect that the temporary stress of the electric net underfoot was immediately repaid by the pleasing repast. While the other sheep and goats looked on enviously, blatting on occasion to remind the lamb that she really belonged with them (or were they simply encouraging her to leave some greens for them?), the escaped lamb happily ate her way around the yard. Thankfully, she is the friendliest of the babydolls, and came happily for the grain Phil offered. He grabbed her, and she put up a fuss, but, as with all sheep, once her front legs left the ground, she assumed she was done for, and gave up the fight. We checked her hoofs and Phil carried her back to her pen. Such excitement!
The weather turned very cold. Sadly, the water froze even in Phil’s espresso maker in the barn kitchen. I was hoping that barn would offer a bit more insulation than it did: our coffee plant inside also froze and appears to dead. Thankfully, the lemon tree has survived thus far, but I’m not tempting fate: it has moved into our ever-smaller house. Jonadab has only dug in the dirt one time so far, and he looked very guilty as he showed me the displaced dirt.
With the freezing temperatures comes a freezing cook. That would be me. I thought about the happy childhood stories where the pioneer children would go bounding down to an “already warmed kitchen.” Nice for them, but bummer for the parents who had to rise early to start the fire. While I would not presume that my life, complete with espresso maker for Phil and countertop convection oven for me, is anywhere near as difficult as theirs, I feel a certain freezing affinity for those pioneers.
Phil and I were debating whether to dig the holes for the trees by hand. If we could do ten a day, that would surely get the orchard in the ground by March, and Phil’s a good digger. He could perhaps do ten a day.
Or so we thought. After he triangulated the previously set rows to make sure that we were on in our reckoning (we weren’t always, which would have made sloppy rows), he began to dig. After about 18 inches, he hit perched water, which means that water from the previous rain had hit a rock barrier and ran in sheets, like underground streams. His hole became sloppy as the water streamed out.
With our hard clay soil, I was not expecting drainage issues, or standing water (er, flowing water). We had talked about digging a drainage trench down to a (yet to be built) pond. I think such a drainage possibility became a drainage necessity.
Phil quit digging about two feet down. He had uncovered a few worms and a toad with a very slow metabolism, but we had not prepared the site for even one tree. It had taken him several hours.
He called to hire a mini-excavator, set for delivery this coming Friday. So now we’re waiting on the excavator to dig trees and the fencing to install a perimeter. What to do with the week ahead?
Phil needed to mail some checks, and he knew we had a registered letter waiting for us (it had been waiting at the post office on Saturday). When he got the mail, it turned out to be a registered letter from our insurance, stating that our car coverage expires at midnight. I’m thankful Phil went to get that letter when he did! Our agent took care of it.
Phil also brought our trash to the dump. Yes: in the country there are no lovely trucks to haul it away. I had been carefully separating all recycling from regular trash since we moved here, but Dennis laughed at such fastidiousness: all except the aluminum just gets dumped into the landfill anyway! I have no idea if that is true, but I had reached the limit on trash around the living area, and the recycling center was closed today, so off to the dump went all my glass, paper, and aluminum. So much for the “earth-friendly” living I’m doing here. (And what was that about disposable diapers? YES—I’m still using them! Cloth is really unpleasant to deal with away from a washing machine!)
As we look to the year ahead, once we get the trees in the ground, the perimeter fence up, four acres near the creek cleared, and buy some cows, we won’t have much to do with ourselves until we need to harvest the fruit. Which leads into the big project we’ve been ignoring till now: building a dwelling.
Up until now, we’ve been in the Proverbs 24:27 mode: “Prepare thy work without, and make it fit for thyself in the field; and afterwards build thine house.” But with the cold weather, I think my patience with the exterior kitchen is reaching its limit. I can do it this year, I think; I would rather not do it next year, too.
So Phil and I talked about the next stage. Our current plan is to use the trailer pad as our driveway/parking area, and build a log cabin just downslope from where we are situated currently. Both the Bessettes and the Zach Bushes have used Old Virginia Hand Hewn Log Homes. (One designed their own, and one modified the Allegheny B, which you can see here.) We spent several hours discussing the benefits and drawbacks of the various designs within our very pie-in-the-sky budget. I think Dennis said to estimate $150/square foot, which is a lot of money for even a small home. We need wisdom to know how to proceed, but I am feeling good about our initial conversation.
I expect that the temporary stress of the electric net underfoot was immediately repaid by the pleasing repast. While the other sheep and goats looked on enviously, blatting on occasion to remind the lamb that she really belonged with them (or were they simply encouraging her to leave some greens for them?), the escaped lamb happily ate her way around the yard. Thankfully, she is the friendliest of the babydolls, and came happily for the grain Phil offered. He grabbed her, and she put up a fuss, but, as with all sheep, once her front legs left the ground, she assumed she was done for, and gave up the fight. We checked her hoofs and Phil carried her back to her pen. Such excitement!
The weather turned very cold. Sadly, the water froze even in Phil’s espresso maker in the barn kitchen. I was hoping that barn would offer a bit more insulation than it did: our coffee plant inside also froze and appears to dead. Thankfully, the lemon tree has survived thus far, but I’m not tempting fate: it has moved into our ever-smaller house. Jonadab has only dug in the dirt one time so far, and he looked very guilty as he showed me the displaced dirt.
With the freezing temperatures comes a freezing cook. That would be me. I thought about the happy childhood stories where the pioneer children would go bounding down to an “already warmed kitchen.” Nice for them, but bummer for the parents who had to rise early to start the fire. While I would not presume that my life, complete with espresso maker for Phil and countertop convection oven for me, is anywhere near as difficult as theirs, I feel a certain freezing affinity for those pioneers.
Phil and I were debating whether to dig the holes for the trees by hand. If we could do ten a day, that would surely get the orchard in the ground by March, and Phil’s a good digger. He could perhaps do ten a day.
Or so we thought. After he triangulated the previously set rows to make sure that we were on in our reckoning (we weren’t always, which would have made sloppy rows), he began to dig. After about 18 inches, he hit perched water, which means that water from the previous rain had hit a rock barrier and ran in sheets, like underground streams. His hole became sloppy as the water streamed out.
With our hard clay soil, I was not expecting drainage issues, or standing water (er, flowing water). We had talked about digging a drainage trench down to a (yet to be built) pond. I think such a drainage possibility became a drainage necessity.
Phil quit digging about two feet down. He had uncovered a few worms and a toad with a very slow metabolism, but we had not prepared the site for even one tree. It had taken him several hours.
He called to hire a mini-excavator, set for delivery this coming Friday. So now we’re waiting on the excavator to dig trees and the fencing to install a perimeter. What to do with the week ahead?
Phil needed to mail some checks, and he knew we had a registered letter waiting for us (it had been waiting at the post office on Saturday). When he got the mail, it turned out to be a registered letter from our insurance, stating that our car coverage expires at midnight. I’m thankful Phil went to get that letter when he did! Our agent took care of it.
Phil also brought our trash to the dump. Yes: in the country there are no lovely trucks to haul it away. I had been carefully separating all recycling from regular trash since we moved here, but Dennis laughed at such fastidiousness: all except the aluminum just gets dumped into the landfill anyway! I have no idea if that is true, but I had reached the limit on trash around the living area, and the recycling center was closed today, so off to the dump went all my glass, paper, and aluminum. So much for the “earth-friendly” living I’m doing here. (And what was that about disposable diapers? YES—I’m still using them! Cloth is really unpleasant to deal with away from a washing machine!)
As we look to the year ahead, once we get the trees in the ground, the perimeter fence up, four acres near the creek cleared, and buy some cows, we won’t have much to do with ourselves until we need to harvest the fruit. Which leads into the big project we’ve been ignoring till now: building a dwelling.
Up until now, we’ve been in the Proverbs 24:27 mode: “Prepare thy work without, and make it fit for thyself in the field; and afterwards build thine house.” But with the cold weather, I think my patience with the exterior kitchen is reaching its limit. I can do it this year, I think; I would rather not do it next year, too.
So Phil and I talked about the next stage. Our current plan is to use the trailer pad as our driveway/parking area, and build a log cabin just downslope from where we are situated currently. Both the Bessettes and the Zach Bushes have used Old Virginia Hand Hewn Log Homes. (One designed their own, and one modified the Allegheny B, which you can see here.) We spent several hours discussing the benefits and drawbacks of the various designs within our very pie-in-the-sky budget. I think Dennis said to estimate $150/square foot, which is a lot of money for even a small home. We need wisdom to know how to proceed, but I am feeling good about our initial conversation.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Driving Through a Winter Wonderland
We had planned to spend the day in lovely productivity. Phil wanted to try digging several holes by hand, just to see if he could, and how long it would take. We also wanted to get our packages at the post office, bring our trash and recycling to the dump, order 250 cattle panels for our perimeter, and see the elaborate gingerbread houses that our friends the Rachel Bushes created.
The weather had other ideas. We woke to rain, which soon turned to wet snow. Phil would dig no holes this day. And lifting wet boxes and wet bags in cold wet weather also did not much appeal. I was feeling desperate for some progress, though. I walked the perimeter with Phil, admiring his machete work through the brambles. I enjoyed seeing the actual lay of the land. I felt like the child who doesn’t know where the boundary is around the playground, so she huddles in the middle. With proper boundaries, the entire area becomes available for play. I can’t wait for Phil to get the fence up!
We made it to the post office at 11:25, right before it closed for the weekend at 11:30. Sadly, the post office employee had just left. Our boxes will have to wait for pickup until the next time we can get to the post office during business hours. One of the prices to pay for rural life—deliveries can take a long time.
As we drove to Charlottesville, the scenery reminded me of a clichéd winter wonderland. Really? Are trees bedecked with ice and snow really this beautiful? Really?
Indeed. And cars really do go off the road. We weren’t one of them, thankfully, but it was sobering to see the several distressed vehicles.
Phil ordered cattle panels and got a nominal bulk discount, which we appreciated. They should be in in two or three weeks, and then he’ll have another large task ahead of him. He hopes he can get them all in place in about a week. I will remind you all that Phil is an optimist. Myself, the pessimist, wonders if we’ll get cows in 2010, or if we’ll have to wait until 2011. We’ll see.
Then we went to see the gingerbread creations on display downtown. Theirs were unbelievable. Rachel had made “Mistress Mouse’s House,” a stump complete with lichen, fallen leaves, mushrooms, a ladybug and snail, and moss. It had something like 8 or 10 batches of gingerbread in it. Her children had created an incredible tree house, precariously balanced and beautifully executed, with a licorice and pretzel “rope” ladder and small gingerbread squirrel balanced on the railing. Their entirely edible art had taken a week to create, and I hope it wins all the accolades it deserves. A joy to behold.
We treated the five children to lunch at Chipotle, and, despite their somewhat grubby faces, we enjoyed several compliments on their behavior and appearance.
By the time we drove home, the snow had turned back to rain, and washed all the winter wonderland away. All-in-all, a very nice day, and even a bit productive.
The weather had other ideas. We woke to rain, which soon turned to wet snow. Phil would dig no holes this day. And lifting wet boxes and wet bags in cold wet weather also did not much appeal. I was feeling desperate for some progress, though. I walked the perimeter with Phil, admiring his machete work through the brambles. I enjoyed seeing the actual lay of the land. I felt like the child who doesn’t know where the boundary is around the playground, so she huddles in the middle. With proper boundaries, the entire area becomes available for play. I can’t wait for Phil to get the fence up!
We made it to the post office at 11:25, right before it closed for the weekend at 11:30. Sadly, the post office employee had just left. Our boxes will have to wait for pickup until the next time we can get to the post office during business hours. One of the prices to pay for rural life—deliveries can take a long time.
As we drove to Charlottesville, the scenery reminded me of a clichéd winter wonderland. Really? Are trees bedecked with ice and snow really this beautiful? Really?
Indeed. And cars really do go off the road. We weren’t one of them, thankfully, but it was sobering to see the several distressed vehicles.
Phil ordered cattle panels and got a nominal bulk discount, which we appreciated. They should be in in two or three weeks, and then he’ll have another large task ahead of him. He hopes he can get them all in place in about a week. I will remind you all that Phil is an optimist. Myself, the pessimist, wonders if we’ll get cows in 2010, or if we’ll have to wait until 2011. We’ll see.
Then we went to see the gingerbread creations on display downtown. Theirs were unbelievable. Rachel had made “Mistress Mouse’s House,” a stump complete with lichen, fallen leaves, mushrooms, a ladybug and snail, and moss. It had something like 8 or 10 batches of gingerbread in it. Her children had created an incredible tree house, precariously balanced and beautifully executed, with a licorice and pretzel “rope” ladder and small gingerbread squirrel balanced on the railing. Their entirely edible art had taken a week to create, and I hope it wins all the accolades it deserves. A joy to behold.
We treated the five children to lunch at Chipotle, and, despite their somewhat grubby faces, we enjoyed several compliments on their behavior and appearance.
By the time we drove home, the snow had turned back to rain, and washed all the winter wonderland away. All-in-all, a very nice day, and even a bit productive.
Friday, December 4, 2009
How to Plant These Trees?
Friday morning we decided to gather materials for tree planting, so that whenever we get the backhoe or other machinery, we’ll be ready to backfill. Sadly, the thick layer of leaves that fell in October appears to have gone with the wind, as there is now a 1” layer of leaves, with about ½” layer of leaf mold underneath. Then red clay soil. How many acres of ½” leaf mold would we have to scrape clean in order to get 12 to 18 cubic feet of muck per tree? The equation staggers the mind.
We reassessed. I should say, I shut down and began to read to the boys, while Phil looked again at different tree planting methods. He realized that Michael Phillips in The Apple Grower recommends a 3’ diameter hole, dug down to 16 inches, then backfilled with the same dirt. So whether we follow the super-awesome-lot-of-work method of tree planting, or the standard tree planting, we’ll have to dig a 3’ diameter hole. But we like the idea of pipe in the bottom of the hole in order to introduce air into the hole (change the barometric pressure?), and we like the layer of rocks in order to increase the magnetic pull on the roots. (See the full planting method here .) So even if we backfill with the same dirt, we think it’s worth it to dig the hole deeper.
And maybe we’ll buy in compost. Or maybe a mix. I read somewhere that a chestnut grove calculated their costs at about $30 per planted tree. It could be that we get to that eventually.
That made me a bit upset—how long will it be before this orchard pays for itself? Well, I found some figures on approximate yields for the different trees we bought. I calculated we have the potential to grow about 38K pounds of apples; 12K pounds of cherries; and about 6K pounds mixed between peaches, plums, pears, and apricots. That’s a lot of fruit we’ll have to figure out how to sell.
But first we have to grow it, and before that we have to plant the trees, so we’ll take it a step at a time.
After the leaf mold/how to plant lengthy discussion, Phil went to measure the perimeter of our land, in order to calculate how many cattle panels and T-posts we need for perimeter fencing on this side of Hog Creek. It’ll be about 3500 linear feet. It took Phil about three hours to hack through some of the brambles along the creek, but he was thrilled to actually walk the perimeter of our property. Isaiah stuck with him, holding the measuring line.
I started out measuring the line, but the baby woke up in the trailer, so I went back. As I returned to the house, though, I realized that the sheep AND the goats were bleating at me very insistently. Now the animals don’t usually call to me, so I stopped and tried to pay attention to them and their needs. The mineral bucket hadn’t been refilled since we returned, so I got some minerals for them.
They ate 9 cupfuls between the seven of them. I couldn’t believe it. I held minerals in my hand, and they licked them off. I gave the goats their minerals and the sheep looked on enviously. I gave the sheep their minerals (similar to goat minerals, but without the copper that’s toxic to sheep) and the goats charged the sheep. I put minerals in the bucket and the Babydoll sheep knocked it over to get to them. They all seemed happier after their glut, though.
While feeding the minerals, all the birds vanished into their house. I looked up to spot five raptors circling slowly overhead. Phil found four dead birds around their house (the children were playing in the house and came across one—blech!). I wonder, though, if the other five or ten missing birds vanished to the predators in the sky.
The other noteworthy thing today was that Abigail sat on my lap and listened to the entire book The Light at Tern Rock. It’s 62 pages about a lighthouse, and we saw and climbed a lighthouse on our trip at Thanksgiving. I was amazed, though; when Abigail first came, she listened to board books and picture books. And yesterday she just made a dramatic jump in her listening ability. Hooray!
We reassessed. I should say, I shut down and began to read to the boys, while Phil looked again at different tree planting methods. He realized that Michael Phillips in The Apple Grower recommends a 3’ diameter hole, dug down to 16 inches, then backfilled with the same dirt. So whether we follow the super-awesome-lot-of-work method of tree planting, or the standard tree planting, we’ll have to dig a 3’ diameter hole. But we like the idea of pipe in the bottom of the hole in order to introduce air into the hole (change the barometric pressure?), and we like the layer of rocks in order to increase the magnetic pull on the roots. (See the full planting method here .) So even if we backfill with the same dirt, we think it’s worth it to dig the hole deeper.
And maybe we’ll buy in compost. Or maybe a mix. I read somewhere that a chestnut grove calculated their costs at about $30 per planted tree. It could be that we get to that eventually.
That made me a bit upset—how long will it be before this orchard pays for itself? Well, I found some figures on approximate yields for the different trees we bought. I calculated we have the potential to grow about 38K pounds of apples; 12K pounds of cherries; and about 6K pounds mixed between peaches, plums, pears, and apricots. That’s a lot of fruit we’ll have to figure out how to sell.
But first we have to grow it, and before that we have to plant the trees, so we’ll take it a step at a time.
After the leaf mold/how to plant lengthy discussion, Phil went to measure the perimeter of our land, in order to calculate how many cattle panels and T-posts we need for perimeter fencing on this side of Hog Creek. It’ll be about 3500 linear feet. It took Phil about three hours to hack through some of the brambles along the creek, but he was thrilled to actually walk the perimeter of our property. Isaiah stuck with him, holding the measuring line.
I started out measuring the line, but the baby woke up in the trailer, so I went back. As I returned to the house, though, I realized that the sheep AND the goats were bleating at me very insistently. Now the animals don’t usually call to me, so I stopped and tried to pay attention to them and their needs. The mineral bucket hadn’t been refilled since we returned, so I got some minerals for them.
They ate 9 cupfuls between the seven of them. I couldn’t believe it. I held minerals in my hand, and they licked them off. I gave the goats their minerals and the sheep looked on enviously. I gave the sheep their minerals (similar to goat minerals, but without the copper that’s toxic to sheep) and the goats charged the sheep. I put minerals in the bucket and the Babydoll sheep knocked it over to get to them. They all seemed happier after their glut, though.
While feeding the minerals, all the birds vanished into their house. I looked up to spot five raptors circling slowly overhead. Phil found four dead birds around their house (the children were playing in the house and came across one—blech!). I wonder, though, if the other five or ten missing birds vanished to the predators in the sky.
The other noteworthy thing today was that Abigail sat on my lap and listened to the entire book The Light at Tern Rock. It’s 62 pages about a lighthouse, and we saw and climbed a lighthouse on our trip at Thanksgiving. I was amazed, though; when Abigail first came, she listened to board books and picture books. And yesterday she just made a dramatic jump in her listening ability. Hooray!
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Goat Contortionist Available for Hire
Phil took down the former pig fencing today, pulling T-posts with Jadon's help. He moved the sheep and the goats into a “permanent” pasture with the chickens for the duration of the winter months. He fed the chicks some feed and Annabelle the goat was most interested: she did everything she could to get the grain, so we breathed a sigh of relief when the chick feeders were filled and safely ensconced in the little chicken house.
Shortly afterward, I noticed a frequent clang, that sounded much like horns on a metal light. Or like an Annabelle happily eating the chick grain within the chick house! We moved the chick feed outside the electric fence while we pondered our next move. It’s not going to work well if the goats eat all the chick food—that stuff is expensive! (After a few minutes, Annabelle slunk out of the small hole on her belly—we had no idea she could fold herself so tightly. If she doesn’t work out as a milk goat, she might consider a second career as a contortionist.)
Phil and I spent the afternoon starting to stake the orchard for planting. The measurements looked perfect on paper, but the reality is not quite as tidy. I expect this process will last some time, but it felt good to get the first temporary posts in, to get a glimpse of how the rows of trees will appear.
Shortly afterward, I noticed a frequent clang, that sounded much like horns on a metal light. Or like an Annabelle happily eating the chick grain within the chick house! We moved the chick feed outside the electric fence while we pondered our next move. It’s not going to work well if the goats eat all the chick food—that stuff is expensive! (After a few minutes, Annabelle slunk out of the small hole on her belly—we had no idea she could fold herself so tightly. If she doesn’t work out as a milk goat, she might consider a second career as a contortionist.)
Phil and I spent the afternoon starting to stake the orchard for planting. The measurements looked perfect on paper, but the reality is not quite as tidy. I expect this process will last some time, but it felt good to get the first temporary posts in, to get a glimpse of how the rows of trees will appear.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
What Next?
We returned from our Thanksgiving vacation last evening. Chloe the dog stayed at the Bessettes, and when we left their house sometime after 10pm, she was asleep by the fire, and didn’t follow us out to the car. She is 12 ½ years old, tumor-ridden, now hard of hearing and seeing, and, we think, was just happy to sleep in a warm, dry place. Apparently, though, for the first 24 hours after we left, she stayed out by the car we left at the Bessette’s. Faithful and heartbroken. Abraham says, “I think Chloe’s the best dog in the world.” He may be right.
Our November rainfall broke records. We woke this morning to more relentless, driving rain. The children happily played together all day, as they rediscovered toys and played new creative games. Phil and I both experienced re-entry shock a bit from all the little and big things we want to get done. This day, the pigs were the fortunate two: Phil created a new pasture for them to plow, and he moved them without even calling me. They were ready to go.
Somehow the pigs’ water was turned off while we were away (mischievous children, perhaps?). Michelle mentioned that they had called to her every time she would come over, so she fed them. I bet they were thirsty; I am thankful the rain fell and made them puddles to drink from.
Phil wonders if we lost about 20 chickens. They aren’t quite big enough to stay in their netting; perhaps an animal got them on the ground; perhaps they are too ignorant to stay indoors, away from a winged predator. Or, as I hope, perhaps all 50 are still there, with some simply hiding.
On our vacation, I had some opportunity to read. The Barefoot Beekeeper excited me: a simple, do-it-yourself frame, stocked with some bees, then left alone, is about all you need. That is quite do-able, I think.
We also talked about the next stage of our farm-building. Some things take precedence over a house: we want perimeter fencing and cows, all 400+ trees planted, and pasture seeded and garden growing. Then we’ll re-evaluate.
We were all set to buy a backhoe: good for planting our trees and clearing pasture, as well as making ponds and clearing land for all future buildings. But Dennis said he would never buy a backhoe unless that would be his livelihood: the maintenance costs are too great to make it worthwhile. But, if he were to buy just one piece of equipment, it would be a backhoe.
Humph. Where does that leave us? Uncertain and researching.
And it is good to be home.
Our November rainfall broke records. We woke this morning to more relentless, driving rain. The children happily played together all day, as they rediscovered toys and played new creative games. Phil and I both experienced re-entry shock a bit from all the little and big things we want to get done. This day, the pigs were the fortunate two: Phil created a new pasture for them to plow, and he moved them without even calling me. They were ready to go.
Somehow the pigs’ water was turned off while we were away (mischievous children, perhaps?). Michelle mentioned that they had called to her every time she would come over, so she fed them. I bet they were thirsty; I am thankful the rain fell and made them puddles to drink from.
Phil wonders if we lost about 20 chickens. They aren’t quite big enough to stay in their netting; perhaps an animal got them on the ground; perhaps they are too ignorant to stay indoors, away from a winged predator. Or, as I hope, perhaps all 50 are still there, with some simply hiding.
On our vacation, I had some opportunity to read. The Barefoot Beekeeper excited me: a simple, do-it-yourself frame, stocked with some bees, then left alone, is about all you need. That is quite do-able, I think.
We also talked about the next stage of our farm-building. Some things take precedence over a house: we want perimeter fencing and cows, all 400+ trees planted, and pasture seeded and garden growing. Then we’ll re-evaluate.
We were all set to buy a backhoe: good for planting our trees and clearing pasture, as well as making ponds and clearing land for all future buildings. But Dennis said he would never buy a backhoe unless that would be his livelihood: the maintenance costs are too great to make it worthwhile. But, if he were to buy just one piece of equipment, it would be a backhoe.
Humph. Where does that leave us? Uncertain and researching.
And it is good to be home.
Friday, November 20, 2009
If You Drive Through a Muddy Trench, You Will Get Stuck
Yesterday we woke to more rain. Mid-morning, I grew concerned about our van. We had parked it up near the road, but I knew we had Bible study in the evening and did not want a repeat of last week. Phil went to back the van out.
And promptly got stuck in the ditch that opened up beneath him (yet another ditch from when we buried our hydrants). The ground looked solid enough, but when he drove over it, the front wheels sank into the red clay so that the bumper touched the ground.
He was not a happy camper. “We aren’t going anywhere—why did you want me to back out?” And, due to the angle of the van, the truck couldn’t pull the van out this time.
Phil went to the quarry to get a load of gravel. We needed to widen our driveway, and now we needed it for a parking area up near the road. On his return, he spread gravel until he figured we could get the van out.
As he drove the truck into position, the truck sank into the trench dug on the other side of our driveway for our electrical lines, and was stuck.
I was not a very supportive wife. Grumpy, bickering children, two stuck vehicles, chill rain, and, perhaps, sleep deprivation made me throw up my hands in despair. Phil shoveled gravel under the wheels of the truck, and got it out within a few minutes (I couldn’t believe how quickly). Then he shoveled gravel under the van tires, and he and the older boys pushed the van and I drove it out.
Shortly after that, we went to the Bessettes. I think I fell asleep for over an hour, so I must have been tired. Amazing how much better my perspective was after that nap!
Phil continues to battle whatever bug he picked up flying to Colorado last week. Today Abraham and Jadon also fell mildly ill, enough that they lounged around and had no appetite, but nothing came out of their bodies that shouldn’t. I am quite thankful for that. I fear that they may still be ill when we travel for Thanksgiving, in which case we shan’t be the poster children for healthy country living.
Despite his continued convalescence, Phil picked up another load of sawdust for our trees and latrine, and moved the sheep and the goats again. Last year when we camped on the land for two weeks, Phil had dug ridges in the soil where we intended to put our garden, and we sowed a large quantity of cover crops there. The cover crops did not germinate very well, we thought when we returned in July, but now the troughs are filled with grasses (though the ridges remain almost bare). When we turned the animals in to their new paddock, I was thrilled to see the grasses come up to Crystal the goat’s belly. And when we set their next paddock up, some of the oat grass came above my knees. It is a thin stand, but it has good height!
The 50 chicks and 5 guineas enjoy their outdoor home. There are several tallish grass clusters, and they hide in those clusters, as if it’s a jungle playground.
Phil moved a straw bale today and we found two skinks underneath. Isaiah and Abigail played with them for a while. I didn’t ask what happened to them in the end—I’m not sure I want to know. I will hope that the skinks are happily hidden somewhere far from chickens that might find them palatable.
And promptly got stuck in the ditch that opened up beneath him (yet another ditch from when we buried our hydrants). The ground looked solid enough, but when he drove over it, the front wheels sank into the red clay so that the bumper touched the ground.
He was not a happy camper. “We aren’t going anywhere—why did you want me to back out?” And, due to the angle of the van, the truck couldn’t pull the van out this time.
Phil went to the quarry to get a load of gravel. We needed to widen our driveway, and now we needed it for a parking area up near the road. On his return, he spread gravel until he figured we could get the van out.
As he drove the truck into position, the truck sank into the trench dug on the other side of our driveway for our electrical lines, and was stuck.
I was not a very supportive wife. Grumpy, bickering children, two stuck vehicles, chill rain, and, perhaps, sleep deprivation made me throw up my hands in despair. Phil shoveled gravel under the wheels of the truck, and got it out within a few minutes (I couldn’t believe how quickly). Then he shoveled gravel under the van tires, and he and the older boys pushed the van and I drove it out.
Shortly after that, we went to the Bessettes. I think I fell asleep for over an hour, so I must have been tired. Amazing how much better my perspective was after that nap!
Phil continues to battle whatever bug he picked up flying to Colorado last week. Today Abraham and Jadon also fell mildly ill, enough that they lounged around and had no appetite, but nothing came out of their bodies that shouldn’t. I am quite thankful for that. I fear that they may still be ill when we travel for Thanksgiving, in which case we shan’t be the poster children for healthy country living.
Despite his continued convalescence, Phil picked up another load of sawdust for our trees and latrine, and moved the sheep and the goats again. Last year when we camped on the land for two weeks, Phil had dug ridges in the soil where we intended to put our garden, and we sowed a large quantity of cover crops there. The cover crops did not germinate very well, we thought when we returned in July, but now the troughs are filled with grasses (though the ridges remain almost bare). When we turned the animals in to their new paddock, I was thrilled to see the grasses come up to Crystal the goat’s belly. And when we set their next paddock up, some of the oat grass came above my knees. It is a thin stand, but it has good height!
The 50 chicks and 5 guineas enjoy their outdoor home. There are several tallish grass clusters, and they hide in those clusters, as if it’s a jungle playground.
Phil moved a straw bale today and we found two skinks underneath. Isaiah and Abigail played with them for a while. I didn’t ask what happened to them in the end—I’m not sure I want to know. I will hope that the skinks are happily hidden somewhere far from chickens that might find them palatable.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)