There's a lot going on in a day on the farm

It's interesting to me that in the silence and sometimes, alone ness in a day on this place, there is so very much happening. I think the blog makes me take stock of that. Yesterday, the tractor arrived and Red will tell the tale, I'm sure, of how kind words to tractors really might make all the difference in the world. Today, I shelled the first peas to freeze, eating a good deal of them right there. We've been enjoying the snap peas for several days but I've realized you really have to look in all the leafy spots- things are ready to harvest and you don't even know it. The english peas almost got missed. The black caps are just covering our back corner but I have to get a bug suit before I can really commit to harvesting them. I picked a small bowl full today and have the welts to prove it but not, however, the berries. Dottie seems to have helped herself, ever so grateful that I braved the brush to pick them for her. Grandma Betty has one of those bug suits at the cottage and I am so sold on all things meshy that keep out the bugs. I want a head to toe one really. And a harvesting basket that keeps out Welshies. Back to the garden and it's happenings.


The corn - has the beginnings of reproductive parts. The squash has so many blossoms on a single stalk it looks like a bouquet. The tomatoes are pushing out more green shapes - some long and pointy romas and some wrinkly bulging orbs every day. The northern and jacobs cattle have all emerged with long pods filling out. The melons and pumpkins are forming their blossoms. Onions are pushing out of the ground and I pulled a few out to cure. The carrots are really ready to dig en masse- I'm sick of losing half a carrot as I try to pull them one at a time as we need em. The garlic is starting to go dormant and thanks to Holly who visited this weekend and helped out- I got in the rows of carrots and more beans for a late harvest. Red and Holly took down some trees- and then we all piled them up in between weeding the gardens and drinking watermelon cucumber gin & tonics. It was a nice weekend.

I had another personal invitation today to offer our pork at our local coop and I want to go for it. I love our folks at Yahara- I felt like they were my first friends here and so welcoming. I'm thinking about potatoes too while they are the leafy green blossoming successes that they appear right now and I'm both forgetting how there appears to be no back saving mechanics when you're placing potatoes into foot deep trenches and I'm naive to all the pesty things that can go wrong. But I keep dreaming of selling our pastured pork with french fingerling and all the other varieties I want to try. Somehow finding a way to put all these pieces together to make some kind of working farm. To pay for getting the cows someday, to maybe make it work to get the rest of the land. Or just to make it all work the way it is.

Chicken stories- I planned to share a post on how I almost rashly decided to slaughter a rooster- we have too many and have been deciding which to keep for the farm and which will end up in a pot- and I've heard many tales and met a few mean roos. So we've been noting how they treat the hens, watching their manners, and observing signs for general macho silliness to help us make our decision. I went into the pen this morning and immediately a roo rushed me and pecked at my feet. Oh no you don't. My eyes flashed to figure out which one and to communicate that that move was one big strike against the beast. Then I noticed one of my dear hens also fast approaching my feet. I had painted my toe nails and, wearing flip flops (my 'farm flops' not my 'going on the town flops'..... my toes looked like the cherries I've been bringing for treats. So all is forgiven and the scoreboard is level once again. Seems like the boys are pretty well mannered so far. The meanest in the flock is the cuckoo maran (or barred rock.... still not entirely sure) hen. She is not the least bit pleasant.



But sadly, the chicken tale number two- is that one of the baby roos, the americana with the gold flecks, is doing the wheezing thing that Frances had done. The rest of the flock look great but he is weak, and I held him for a long time- feeling his crop. Its not the crop- it was pretty empty and we noted that his color is pale and feet cold. I was going to seperate him for the night- we were going to take some video to share on backyard poultry to try to get some insight into what this is- and when I came back from getting a waterer for him, he was not gasping and was pecking. I lifted him back to the flock, he pecked furiously and then as the night fell he weakly stumbled (and I mean stumbled) onto the nesting boxes where they sleep. Who knows! I am remembering all we did for Frances and I don't know what she had and I don't know if this is the same. I know the olive oil thing was just for the blocked crop- and I really think we can rule that out in our goldieroo. Rats. So we put him to bed with the rest (seems no point in isolating him) and we'll see what happens. Here I'm talking about doing roos in and then saving one- complex this chicken raising thing. I'm sure no chicken will break our heart like Frances did. But ya sure do bond with something when it's cradled in the crook of your arm and you are trying to nurse it back to wellnesss. This little roo was really snuggled in tonight.

I have to go to finish getting the peas in the freezer and get another lecture together. I had a chance to give a talk last night to a group of women that gather here monthly- starting to be a group of friends for sure. This weekend I'm teaching and again the week after. I'm really in a nice place with my business and my professional work but the numbers are looking so very very terrible. Damn this economy. Nice to think about the gratification of a pot of shelled peas and push it all out of my mind for the night. A farmer has to sleep ya know.