The three younger boys and I returned to an orchard I visited a year ago in order to pick apples and peaches. That orchard has about 1900 trees in not a very large area: they have a high-density planting, at about a 5- or 6-foot spacing between trees, with maybe 8- or 10-feet between rows. (By comparison, our trees of about the same size are on an 8-foot spacing in row, and 12-foot spacing between rows.) Very compact.
Their trees, planted in 2000, have trunks the diameter of a large grapefruit. Next to our carrot-sized trunks, they looked absolutely enormous. And laden with fruit. The reality of what our orchard could produce (potentially about 17 tons of fruit), all in apple, peach, and cherry sizes, and the amount of work required to harvest all that fruit, hit me, just a bit. We definitely have our work cut out for us.
With temperatures again nearing triple-digits, no one wanted to work outside much. Phil did attempt to spray some more of his rootlet-growth mixture, but the constant pumping required made him give up. Hopefully before he gave himself tendonitis. We should look for a sprayer that would work mounted on the back of our truck (and, someday, a Gator). Save his arms!
He is constantly amazed at how much the cows eat. When we first put the animals in the very dense lower pasture, he wondered if they would ever be able to keep ahead of the growth, or if they would basically be in a state of perpetual eating, never able to get ahead of the rampant growth.
I, the pessimist (ahem: I would prefer to say "realist") figured it wouldn't take the cows more than four to six weeks.
Neither of us would have anticipated the actual reality: they have just about exhausted their food stuffs in that acre. Phil walked around today and figured they were about done. Back to feeding hay tomorrow. Bummer, bummer, bummer.
Some days contain more disappointment than others. For Phil, this was more of a downer day.
But yesterday he had suggested that we start a daily "I'm thankful for ..." comment, as he would like us to be characterized as a family of thankfulness. The boys' thankfulness yesterday was fairly random (Jadon said "gummi bears," even though he hadn't had any for weeks!).
But they had very sweet ones today. Phil was thankful Isaiah didn't break his neck when he bounced off the trampoline. I was thankful Joe didn't drown in the stock tank when he decided he'd go swimming in there unattended (!). Jadon was thankful Joe didn't die when he fell backward off the stepstool (I didn't even know about that one). Abraham said, "I really liked picking apples. I just really like apples." And Isaiah was thankful for applesauce.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Happy 08/09/10!
I spent a very little more time in the garden. Isaiah helped me pick three small ears of corn. They were fairly tasty. I found yet another enormous tomato hornworm, and tried to pry it loose from the plant with one hand. I literally could not do it, but needed both hands. That one I was so disgusted with, I crushed.
I also found an empty snake skin on the side of my newly planted fall bed. It didn't make me enthusiastic to dig and turn over the soil, knowing "the personification of Satan" (as my friend Jill would say) inhabits my garden, lurking, somewhere.
Phil spent some time this morning sharpening his chainsaw blade, and then re-cut the little saplings that have resprouted in the stone fruit orchard. He decided he should probably take the chainsaw in to have it sharpened professionally, as his efforts didn't make much difference.
He also started clearing the next section of lower pasture, but felt perplexed at how to go about it most effectively. With the fencin we have, and with the unknown dimensions—how to enclose the space with too many unknowns?
He decided that next time, he'll fence along the creek first, and work from there.
This evening, he took our laundry to the laundrymat. Four weeks' worth of laundry in one evening. What a guy. I am looking forward to having more clean clothes, and freshly washed kitchen towels. (And, less you imagine we have dressers overflowing with clothes, to allow us four weeks between washes, let me assure you that such is not the case: we just practice questionable personal hygiene and re-wear clothes multiple days in a row.)
He even folded most of it, until the place closed at 11pm! What a guy!
I also found an empty snake skin on the side of my newly planted fall bed. It didn't make me enthusiastic to dig and turn over the soil, knowing "the personification of Satan" (as my friend Jill would say) inhabits my garden, lurking, somewhere.
Phil spent some time this morning sharpening his chainsaw blade, and then re-cut the little saplings that have resprouted in the stone fruit orchard. He decided he should probably take the chainsaw in to have it sharpened professionally, as his efforts didn't make much difference.
He also started clearing the next section of lower pasture, but felt perplexed at how to go about it most effectively. With the fencin we have, and with the unknown dimensions—how to enclose the space with too many unknowns?
He decided that next time, he'll fence along the creek first, and work from there.
This evening, he took our laundry to the laundrymat. Four weeks' worth of laundry in one evening. What a guy. I am looking forward to having more clean clothes, and freshly washed kitchen towels. (And, less you imagine we have dressers overflowing with clothes, to allow us four weeks between washes, let me assure you that such is not the case: we just practice questionable personal hygiene and re-wear clothes multiple days in a row.)
He even folded most of it, until the place closed at 11pm! What a guy!
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Joe Turns Two!
Phil moved the sheep from the cherry orchard to the apples this morning before church. He made a large pen for the sheep, and let them graze in among the apple trees. This is the first time we've allowed that since the first week, when they figured out how to knock the trees over and defoliate them. Now, though, the trees have grown enough, the sheep appear to ignore them. And the pen set-up goes much quicker when all he has to do is make a large square.
I got to do the nursery at church today, which means I was in a corner of the room where all the children were. I had a six-month old, Joe, and another girl a bit older than Joe. We had a great time, playing and trying to understand baby talk. At one point, the older children had gone outside, and I had the baby drinking a bottle when the girl needed to go potty. So all four of us walked to the bathroom, the two toddlers whispering "shhh!" as they went. Poor Joe's pants needed a belt, as they kept drooping down to his ankles, so it was quite the little walk: bottle in baby's mouth while I carried him, pull up Joe's pants one-handed, try to figure out how to help the young girl get onto the toilet while still caring for bottle baby.
Parenting is not for the faint of heart!
Joe is two today. This is the first second birthday we've celebrated when I have not either had a new baby or been halfway along with the next pregnancy. Before I am pregnant again, I hope to figure out how to conquer morning sickness. I had gone without eating for a while earlier this week and had the same symptoms of morning sickness: queasiness, extreme fatigue, soreness all over, inability to function. After I ate (and ate and ate), I recovered easily.
So if I am actually suffering from a nutrition deficiency for 12 weeks or so during pregnancy, I need to figure out how to avoid that, so I can be a functional mother of many, and help meet to my husband.
For now, I rejoice in having brain cells to function at capacity.
And I like to laugh at Joe's antics. Jadon and he adore each other, and they make each other laugh. Joe must have been thinking about Jadon one morning a week or so ago, when he suddenly burst into belly laughs in his sleep.
After Bible study, we came home and I made extremely rich brownies. Joe knew exactly what to do with the candles: he started blowing as soon as he saw them lit. I doubt he made a wish, and it's a good thing, since, with the number of blows he needed, he would probably be about 57 before they came true (and Isaiah eventually helped him).
I've been struggling with my bread lately: it never seems to get quite done. I remembered, though, that a meat thermometer, inserted into the loaf, should read 200 when finished. I tried that today and it worked well. (The loaves didn't hit 200 until almost twice the expected bake time. No wonder they've been almost raw!)
A few other things to share. I was reading the latest Mother Earth News and saw a blurb about First Day Cottages. On a square footage basis, for what you get, these appear to be about the most reasonably priced homes on the market, and I think I've moved away from yurt and into the First Day Cottage camp. The smallest model, with a full basement, would be only a few square feet smaller than my parents' home, and they raised four children quite easily in that space.
I have had a notice on the Local Harvest website, and I finally received a request for eggs. Sadly, the gentleman wanted 375 dozen eggs per week (for his chain restaurant), delivered three or four hours away. I don't know how much land we'd need to generate that amount of production, so we had to turn him away.
An article I read about school food explained why schools do not buy much good quality food for their children. One district gets $2.86 per meal, and of that, $1.68 goes to labor. That doesn't leave much for actual food. In one district, the families became proactive. They bought a cow and had an auction for the high-end cuts of beef as a fundraise, then took the ground meat and used that to feed the students. Smart! (from a Joel Salatin article in Stockman Grass Farmer)
Finally, I don't worry too much about my animals eating poisonous plants. As long as they have enough forage in their pen, I've expected them to be smart enough not to kill themselves. In another article, I read this: "It appears that eating small doses of toxic plants are a way animals prevent internal parasitism." So those bits of poisonous plants are a natural dewormer. Excellent.
With much good cheer, we rejoice in this day that the Lord has given us.
Grace and peace to you!
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Spray for Rootlets; Forest for Cows
Earlier this week, Joe discovered the comb. His hair was damp, and he stood in front of the mirror and combed his hair straight up over and over.
It made me laugh that that was the style he chose for himself, since Isaiah absolutely refuses any hairstyle other than perfectly flat. I've seen him with spiked up hair, and it looks very cute on him, but he is not interested. How different each boy is!
We walk down daily to see our cows in the lower pasture. Each day, we can see more of the terrain. I love it. Rather than thigh high weeds, we have a groomed area. Rather than dense underbrush and vines so thick we could see hardly five feet in any direction, we're beginning to see shrubs and trees and dips and rises. The cows and goats wander around, creating pathways, and we follow them and enjoy them.
Phil is talking about fencing the other 2/3 of the the lower pasture. He could potentially get it done before September, and then they'd have time to graze before frost winter kills the forages. Over the winter, then, he could cut down and mill the trees into boards, and have the pasture ready for next year.
Since the cows don't need to eat hay at the moment, the first broody hen and her babies have taken up residence at night on top of a hay bale. The chicks have a hard time flying up there: they climb onto little perches, and run around and around the bale, until they finally decide they have no choice but to flutter. Then, up they go!
As I worked in the garden today, I found two more nasty hornworms on my tomatoes. I threw one far away, and the other I donated to the chickens. It took them a while to be interested, but eventually they pecked it and, I suppose, ate it.
I fixed up one bed: weeded, mineralized, reformed, turned over. To the boys' delight, I planted radish seeds, as well as daikon radish, turnip, and rutabaga. I will hope for a good crop, and now that it is not quite so hot, I might even water on a regular basis. Last fall, without running water, I would manually water with five-gallon buckets, and still managed to get a crop. May I have better success this year.
Phil spent many hours spraying the orchard with a spray intended to improve the rootlet growth of the plants. Our manual pump backpack sprayer takes about 7 hours to spray 20 gallons on an acre. Larger farms mount a sprayer to the back of a tractor or ATV-type vehicle. That would certainly be more efficient, but until we have such a device, manual spraying it is.
If we could grow more rootlets, that would be the fastest method of increasing good soil. Plants put out roots, and the roots have little rootlets. The rootlets constantly die as the plant continues to grow, sort of in a waves of growth, out and back. We could certainly use more good soil!
While he walked and sprayed, he came across several trees that have been defoliated. Not by deer, but by caterpillars. He came across one leaf that, on the underside had five pencil-thick caterpillars lounging.
We haven't paid much attention to integrated pest management, the name for keeping trees alive from pests, but apparently we should have been more alert.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Mowing Reveals Guinea Nest
For the first time in (what feels like) months, I spent a couple of hours in my garden. I had hoped to finish new, biointensive beds by now, but since I didn't get to it yet, I figured I could clean up the beds I already have and plant there.
With the rains this week, things are growing again. We've eaten a little okra three or four times this week, and I like it, fried in plenty of butter, sometimes with a couple of eggs thrown in. The boys aren't too keen on it, but that's okay.
I found two tomato horn worms on my tomatoes. No wonder I've had basically no crop. I can't believe how large they are: fatter than my middle finger. And they poop plenty! I captured them, because I was too disgusted to try to smoosh it. How many guts would come out!
I didn't plant anything new, but the current garden has hope now of growing better. I had left some weeds to grow up around the edges, since I wondered if the extra sun would burn the plants. In the spaces where there was less (or no) shade, the plants are largest and strongest, so I think I will keep the plants growing in full sun.
Phil has been scything and mowing quite a bit. After the sheep eat all they can, he figured out that if he scythes the woody stuff first, then uses the John Deere mower afterwards, it gives the most finished, groomed look. And almost our whole cherry orchard has been grazed. It didn't take the sheep long!
While Phil was scything, he came across a nest of about 20 eggs, all but three guinea eggs. (Remember, of our five guineas, we have four males. The lone female paired up with one of the males, and they have been separate for about a month. She suddenly stopped laying in the nesting boxes, and we haven't been able to find her nest.) The broody guinea must have been away temporarily, since every time we've wandered over since, she's been sitting on her nest. Based on the time we've had no eggs from her, and the number of eggs in her nest, I would estimate that she has been sitting and hatching for about two weeks, so she has about two more weeks to go, since guineas need 28 days to hatch their babies, a full week more than chickens.
Guineas are not very good mothers, and I wonder if she hatches the chicken eggs, a full week before her own emerge, if she will cease sitting on hers. We shall see.
The amazing thing is, she is pretty hard to spot when she's nesting. Can you see her above? (She looks like a log or a piece of bark.)
That should make her more obvious.
Phil found a box turtle, too, and brought it to us inside. Box turtles can pull in legs, head, and tail, and shut up their shell so that there is absolutely no flesh exposed. I held the turtle, and the sudden motion as he emerged startled me. He began to thrash his legs, as if crawling in the air, and I set him down. He crawled swiftly for a dark spot: under the dresser. I had a vision of a starved turtle dead under the dresser, smelling up the place, so I snagged him just before he reached his hideout.
Jadon, not traditionally the most animal-friendly of my children, held the turtle briefly before we put it back outside, where it belonged.
Phil has also figured out how to contain the escape-happy pigs. He strung electric line around the top edge of their pen. They shock their sweet noses and haven't made the effort to escape. I'm thankful. The barrows (castrated males) were a bit larger when we bought them, and they continue to outstrip the gilt (unbred female). I don't think it's merely because they push her out of the way for feed: she holds her own. I think she just doesn't gain as easily as the males.
It could be that that was part of the reason our pigs of last winter were so expensive: both females.
We had a great dinner: pork butt (which, for the uninformed, is actually pork shoulder; why they would name it after such an unpleasant part of the anatomy is beyond me). Also onions, okra, and lemons, all from our land.
We're no where near self-sufficient, but that's a good start!
With the rains this week, things are growing again. We've eaten a little okra three or four times this week, and I like it, fried in plenty of butter, sometimes with a couple of eggs thrown in. The boys aren't too keen on it, but that's okay.
I found two tomato horn worms on my tomatoes. No wonder I've had basically no crop. I can't believe how large they are: fatter than my middle finger. And they poop plenty! I captured them, because I was too disgusted to try to smoosh it. How many guts would come out!
I didn't plant anything new, but the current garden has hope now of growing better. I had left some weeds to grow up around the edges, since I wondered if the extra sun would burn the plants. In the spaces where there was less (or no) shade, the plants are largest and strongest, so I think I will keep the plants growing in full sun.
Phil has been scything and mowing quite a bit. After the sheep eat all they can, he figured out that if he scythes the woody stuff first, then uses the John Deere mower afterwards, it gives the most finished, groomed look. And almost our whole cherry orchard has been grazed. It didn't take the sheep long!
While Phil was scything, he came across a nest of about 20 eggs, all but three guinea eggs. (Remember, of our five guineas, we have four males. The lone female paired up with one of the males, and they have been separate for about a month. She suddenly stopped laying in the nesting boxes, and we haven't been able to find her nest.) The broody guinea must have been away temporarily, since every time we've wandered over since, she's been sitting on her nest. Based on the time we've had no eggs from her, and the number of eggs in her nest, I would estimate that she has been sitting and hatching for about two weeks, so she has about two more weeks to go, since guineas need 28 days to hatch their babies, a full week more than chickens.
Guineas are not very good mothers, and I wonder if she hatches the chicken eggs, a full week before her own emerge, if she will cease sitting on hers. We shall see.
The amazing thing is, she is pretty hard to spot when she's nesting. Can you see her above? (She looks like a log or a piece of bark.)
That should make her more obvious.
Phil found a box turtle, too, and brought it to us inside. Box turtles can pull in legs, head, and tail, and shut up their shell so that there is absolutely no flesh exposed. I held the turtle, and the sudden motion as he emerged startled me. He began to thrash his legs, as if crawling in the air, and I set him down. He crawled swiftly for a dark spot: under the dresser. I had a vision of a starved turtle dead under the dresser, smelling up the place, so I snagged him just before he reached his hideout.
Jadon, not traditionally the most animal-friendly of my children, held the turtle briefly before we put it back outside, where it belonged.
Phil has also figured out how to contain the escape-happy pigs. He strung electric line around the top edge of their pen. They shock their sweet noses and haven't made the effort to escape. I'm thankful. The barrows (castrated males) were a bit larger when we bought them, and they continue to outstrip the gilt (unbred female). I don't think it's merely because they push her out of the way for feed: she holds her own. I think she just doesn't gain as easily as the males.
It could be that that was part of the reason our pigs of last winter were so expensive: both females.
We had a great dinner: pork butt (which, for the uninformed, is actually pork shoulder; why they would name it after such an unpleasant part of the anatomy is beyond me). Also onions, okra, and lemons, all from our land.
We're no where near self-sufficient, but that's a good start!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
We Open Up the Lower Pasture
On Monday, we had friends from Boulder visit us for a few hours. I love that believers can have instant connection on a deep level. And I was really pleased to hear the wife gasp, "Did you plant all those trees since you moved here?!" I think there's a sense for me sometimes like I'm just treading water, that little changes, that the land is almost the same as when we moved.
How gratifying to hear a complete outsider express surprise at the quantity of our progress.
That was the good on Monday.
The very, very bad on Monday was that Phil had his court date. He truly expected a verdict of Not Guilty, since we are legally allowed to live on our land, but are not legally "residents," as we do not legally have a "residence."
So he felt pretty beaten up when the judge said, "Guilty!" Phil asked, "Can you do anything to help me at the DMV?"
"No," said the judge.
And that was that. Guilty without remedy. No way to be not guilty. If he's pulled over again, without a change in our status, he faces jail time.
Tuesday morning we woke up under a heavy cloud. Perhaps not quite depression, but pretty extreme disappointment. The ruling felt unjust. Jesus, too, faced an unjust judge. How painful it must have been, and I never really considered it, thanked him for it.
I spent the day in pretty intense prayer. We think we have a plan now, and are no longer in despair.
Today Phil drove around looking for new pipe to get water to the lower pasture for the cows. But people in Virginia do not have sprinklers, and five stores had no pipe.
We scrounged leftover tree irrigation pipe, and even used a regular hose, but eventually managed to get water to the lower pasture.
We strung up a path for the cows, just a single strand of unelectrified wire, and gradually drove the five cows and three goats the 600 feet or so to the fenced in pasture. They ran down the slope, whether in eagerness to reach the new forage or in panic at the new environment, we couldn't tell. But all eight animals are safely corralled in about an acre of heavy underbrush now.
I almost cried to see them in forage up to their bellies, with junk trees and vines for them to nibble and begin to clear. The spaciousness of an acre, where, due to trees and other growth, we can't see the entire area at once, is so expansive, so rich. All the animals took great mouthfuls of greens, nibbling a bush here, wrapping a happy tongue around some weeds there.
It made me wonder if the cows had been depressed in their paddock. In any case, they seem ecstatic now. I hope they put on good flesh before the leaves fall, that the babies, who have been steadily losing condition, again look round.
Changing topics, the pigs continue to get out every day. Thankfully, we have fed them long enough that they don't go off our property, but it is startling to come across them in the orchard or by the sheep. So far, they have outwitted six innovations to keep them contained. Perhaps the seventh will be the charm.
Pointy ears escape; floppy ears stay put. So far, this rule of thumb is proving true at Spring Forth Farm.
How gratifying to hear a complete outsider express surprise at the quantity of our progress.
That was the good on Monday.
The very, very bad on Monday was that Phil had his court date. He truly expected a verdict of Not Guilty, since we are legally allowed to live on our land, but are not legally "residents," as we do not legally have a "residence."
So he felt pretty beaten up when the judge said, "Guilty!" Phil asked, "Can you do anything to help me at the DMV?"
"No," said the judge.
And that was that. Guilty without remedy. No way to be not guilty. If he's pulled over again, without a change in our status, he faces jail time.
Tuesday morning we woke up under a heavy cloud. Perhaps not quite depression, but pretty extreme disappointment. The ruling felt unjust. Jesus, too, faced an unjust judge. How painful it must have been, and I never really considered it, thanked him for it.
I spent the day in pretty intense prayer. We think we have a plan now, and are no longer in despair.
Today Phil drove around looking for new pipe to get water to the lower pasture for the cows. But people in Virginia do not have sprinklers, and five stores had no pipe.
We scrounged leftover tree irrigation pipe, and even used a regular hose, but eventually managed to get water to the lower pasture.
We strung up a path for the cows, just a single strand of unelectrified wire, and gradually drove the five cows and three goats the 600 feet or so to the fenced in pasture. They ran down the slope, whether in eagerness to reach the new forage or in panic at the new environment, we couldn't tell. But all eight animals are safely corralled in about an acre of heavy underbrush now.
I almost cried to see them in forage up to their bellies, with junk trees and vines for them to nibble and begin to clear. The spaciousness of an acre, where, due to trees and other growth, we can't see the entire area at once, is so expansive, so rich. All the animals took great mouthfuls of greens, nibbling a bush here, wrapping a happy tongue around some weeds there.
It made me wonder if the cows had been depressed in their paddock. In any case, they seem ecstatic now. I hope they put on good flesh before the leaves fall, that the babies, who have been steadily losing condition, again look round.
Changing topics, the pigs continue to get out every day. Thankfully, we have fed them long enough that they don't go off our property, but it is startling to come across them in the orchard or by the sheep. So far, they have outwitted six innovations to keep them contained. Perhaps the seventh will be the charm.
Pointy ears escape; floppy ears stay put. So far, this rule of thumb is proving true at Spring Forth Farm.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Potato Harvest
Giovanni the Vet came at 11pm on Friday night, and again at 6:30am on Saturday morning, and did AI on Fern. It went much faster this month than last month.
I asked him about the extra teats that our three heifers had. He, a dairymen by birth, said we shouldn't worry about them; too bad that they weren't removed at calving, but not worth the surgical removal now. And certainly not a big enough problem to remove them from breed stock. I was glad to hear that!
I also asked him if we should look for a bull, in case this round of AI doesn't take. He said that, since we have the straws already, if it were his heifer, he would try once more.
I am going to trust that we won't even need that.
After Giovanni left on Saturday morning, Phil and I went up to move the sheep. I came across my long abandoned potato patch. Four months ago, I had envisioned an acre garden, interspersed with the cherry trees, that would provide us with all the vegetables we could possibly need. As such, I planted the potatoes in the upper corner. Then unexpected (to me) frosts came, and I figured the potatoes all died, so I didn't water them, cover them, or care for them in any way. They were on cardboard with a thin covering of hay, and that was it.
Incredibly, I still had a few potatoes to dig up! Pink, maroon, brown, and tan, round and oblong. The total came to just three pounds, but the three pounds were so pretty!
Next year, I will either do traditional, dirt-mounded potatoes, or put them directly on cleared soil (pig-cleared, perhaps?) and cover them with spoiled hay. Then they would have nutrients from the soil, but cleanliness and ease of digging from the hay.
And I will keep the patch much nearer our dwelling.
I decided I disliked the flattened cardboard eyesore, so I began to clean it up. I left the hay, and found a few more potatoes, so it even felt a bit exciting.
Then I turned over a bit of cardboard and upended a spider. I glanced at its belly: black spider, scarlet red belly. Black widow! Two inches from my hand! I think I obliterated it, since i saw no trace of it on the bottom of my shoe. But it certainly damped my enthusiasm for cleaning up the cardboard.
Praise God for his protection, yet again.
Phil had a triumphant day. After less than a month of very intermittent labor, he finished fencing the first part of the lower pasture.
What a tremendous amount of clearing he had to do! I am eager for the cows to clean up the massive growth down there.
Prudently, he wants to wait to bring the cows and goats down until he has a way to water them. Early this coming week, that should be done.
This was a week of good progress for Phil. Above, you can see his new shelves in our metal barn: feed stacked, almost like Costco!
Speaking of feed, I read in the magazine Mother Earth News that we could cut our chicken feed half with corn, and that, since corn is half the price of feed, we could save some money. It sounded good to me, so we've been doing that for a month.
It struck me suddenly: perhaps the reduced production (now running about 75% of what it was a month ago) was not only the result of warmer weather, but also change in ration. And Phil wondered if I was really saving that much by feeding corn. I checked the bags, and my corn was only maybe 20% cheaper than our top quality feed.
What was I thinking?!
I asked him about the extra teats that our three heifers had. He, a dairymen by birth, said we shouldn't worry about them; too bad that they weren't removed at calving, but not worth the surgical removal now. And certainly not a big enough problem to remove them from breed stock. I was glad to hear that!
I also asked him if we should look for a bull, in case this round of AI doesn't take. He said that, since we have the straws already, if it were his heifer, he would try once more.
I am going to trust that we won't even need that.
After Giovanni left on Saturday morning, Phil and I went up to move the sheep. I came across my long abandoned potato patch. Four months ago, I had envisioned an acre garden, interspersed with the cherry trees, that would provide us with all the vegetables we could possibly need. As such, I planted the potatoes in the upper corner. Then unexpected (to me) frosts came, and I figured the potatoes all died, so I didn't water them, cover them, or care for them in any way. They were on cardboard with a thin covering of hay, and that was it.
Incredibly, I still had a few potatoes to dig up! Pink, maroon, brown, and tan, round and oblong. The total came to just three pounds, but the three pounds were so pretty!
Next year, I will either do traditional, dirt-mounded potatoes, or put them directly on cleared soil (pig-cleared, perhaps?) and cover them with spoiled hay. Then they would have nutrients from the soil, but cleanliness and ease of digging from the hay.
And I will keep the patch much nearer our dwelling.
I decided I disliked the flattened cardboard eyesore, so I began to clean it up. I left the hay, and found a few more potatoes, so it even felt a bit exciting.
Then I turned over a bit of cardboard and upended a spider. I glanced at its belly: black spider, scarlet red belly. Black widow! Two inches from my hand! I think I obliterated it, since i saw no trace of it on the bottom of my shoe. But it certainly damped my enthusiasm for cleaning up the cardboard.
Praise God for his protection, yet again.
Phil had a triumphant day. After less than a month of very intermittent labor, he finished fencing the first part of the lower pasture.
What a tremendous amount of clearing he had to do! I am eager for the cows to clean up the massive growth down there.
Prudently, he wants to wait to bring the cows and goats down until he has a way to water them. Early this coming week, that should be done.
This was a week of good progress for Phil. Above, you can see his new shelves in our metal barn: feed stacked, almost like Costco!
Speaking of feed, I read in the magazine Mother Earth News that we could cut our chicken feed half with corn, and that, since corn is half the price of feed, we could save some money. It sounded good to me, so we've been doing that for a month.
It struck me suddenly: perhaps the reduced production (now running about 75% of what it was a month ago) was not only the result of warmer weather, but also change in ration. And Phil wondered if I was really saving that much by feeding corn. I checked the bags, and my corn was only maybe 20% cheaper than our top quality feed.
What was I thinking?!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)