My Wife is Beautiful

Kat is so beautiful tromping around in a field of clover blossoms wearing a t-shirt, cut-off shorts, and high rubber boots. The wind is blowing her hair and I’m so in love with her but she won’t let me take her picture so you poor people will just have to hear the description. Maybe someday she’ll let me post a candid shot of her and you’ll see what I mean.

Welcome back, Farmer Ernie

I’m back home after driving half the night from Ohio. Getting up early (not so early) this morning I fed the goats, walked in the pasture with Kat and checked on the apple trees and the bees. I watered the garden (only lost a couple of okra transplants … probably due to no water after their immediate transplanting) and planted some cucumbers and lettuce in the raised bed. Fed and watered the chickens, who are getting big, by the way. Going to have to get the lid on their brooder box this week or we’ll be chasing them around the garage come Monday.

A storm is moving in and it should rain today, but I’ve got a lot done already … did the maintenance work and advanced the cause slightly. My bee suit came in the mail while I was gone, along with a bunch of books. The bee suit is rather flimsily constructed for $107 and I’m thinking about sending it back. I’m not exceptionally pleased with it and it wasn’t really what I had in mind. I don’t think it’ll last more than about a year.

It’s good to be back home.

Creationism is Bad Science?

So a group of scientists were walking along and in the middle of a vast empty space with no one else around and no houses or cities nearby. In the center of this empty space they found a large structure with well-crafted walls and inside there were machines of various sorts, carrying out actions and tasks and recreating new machines. Every detail was perfectly designed to work in the system and in harmony with every other detail. Nothing was wasted, but old machines were dissembled to become new machines and every machine, even the smallest, had a role to play. Some of the scientists argued that this had to have been the work of a brilliant inventor, while other scientists argued that there was no inventor and it must have just spontaneously occurred.

The entire argument seems absurd to me. It’s like children playing in the yard as if they’re great explorers and meanwhile the watchful and loving eye of their father keeps track of them from the window. Of course God created the world, and if evolution is real (and I’m not certain that it is) then it was his hand which set it in motion. The more I learn about science and nature, the more certain of God as the creator I become. These scientists who profess otherwise, I cannot understand how they can look at the millions of complex and subtle interactions and designs of nature on this planet and claim it’s all due to random chance and survival of the fittest. I believe that they are letting their own beliefs, of agnosticism and atheism, taint their view of the world.

When Will I Wander No More?

I’m in Columbus, Ohio today. I feel terrible. I don’t understand how I can work all day in my garden despite this chest infection, but yet 5 hours of dealing with people in an office environment leaves me weak and exhausted. I miss my wife and kids, I miss my farm, and I miss my goats. Tomorrow night, I’m driving home.

China's FDA Head pays the piper

http://english.aljazeera.net/NR/exeres/6EC4B484-1358-4802-A9F8-A49EB84F5119.htm

 

We could probably learn something from the Chinese after all. A government official who for his own personal gain shirked his duty and accepted bribes in order to allow unsafe products into the marketplace was found guilty and sentenced to death. Technically, the man is a killer on a large scale. If you allow hundreds of people to die and thousands to get sick because of your misdeeds, is it really any different than putting a bullet in their brain? No, not really. Just a little cleaner.

American bureaucrats at our own regulatory bodies (FDA, USDA, etc.) should take heed and pay attention to this.

Farm Roundup

Here's an assortment of photos taken over the past week. I've got most of my chores done for the day (or at least all that I'm going to do) and so I thought I'd post a few of these before I do some paperwork (paying job crap) and then head off to Ohio.


It's a beautiful place to just sit and relax up on the hill where the orchard lies. You can see the leaf structure developing on the apple trees (that's one in the foreground) and the boys lounging as they watch the beehives.


Here's the two hives I bought. They're old and a little beat up, but in remarkable shape considering I only paid $125 for each. One of them is filled with the light colored (yellowish) Italian bees, and the other has a slightly larger and dark-colored bee, almost blackish. I haven't found out what those are, but they aren't Africanized. They're pretty gentle. I was worried about putting the hives so close together, but Chuck assured me that it's no problem and since I only have the one wooden pallet I didn't have much choice. I'll probably separate them later when I have some more pallets. (And some help. Who wants to pick up and move a beehive?)


Bees are pretty gentle usually. These hives have just been loaded in a truck, hauled an hour and a half across two counties, bumped and jostled across a pasture and then manhandled onto a pallet. And I can still get close to them without protective clothing. I do make sure I'm wearing a hat or some sort of hair cover when I'm out close to the bees. Sometimes they accidentally get stuck in my hair and that makes them very angry and me very nervous, both conditions which could lead to me being stung. I don't like to be stung.


A farm has many, many tasks to be accomplished daily but as Joshua is reminding us, we should take time to stop and smell the flowers.


The goats are extremely gentle and loving. They are social creatures and readily accept humans into their herd. Many times when we're outside and working somewhere off from the barn, the goats come to the fence and bellow for us, as if saying, "Hey, Ugly Goats! The herd is over here!" Jared and Nikki are a little leery of the goats. They love to pet them and feed them, but they aren't really keen on getting too close to their bodies or their feet. (Jared seems to have an idea that the goats will kick him.) Joshua, on the other hand, has no issues with the goats at all and is either a born goatherder or perhaps just temperamentally suited to be raised by goats.


Yesterday we took some time out and, to celebrate Memorial Day, roasted hot dogs around the fire. Did you know most hot dogs contain corn syrup or MSG? The only hot dogs that don't seem to are Hebrew National Kosher dogs, which is awesome because they are also the BEST hot dogs I've ever had. We had a lot of downed maple limbs that had accumulated over the past few weeks so we piled them up and built a small fire and the boys got to experience cooking over a campfire for the first time in their lives. How deprived they've been! Ironically, Joshua is the best at it. You have to position the stick for him while he's holding it, but once that's done, he'll hold it in that position until the hot dog actually catches fire. Without moving. The other boys wave their sticks and dogs around for a half hour and then complain that it's not cooked yet. They alternately wave them around away from the fire (risking dangerous eye-pokes) or stick them directly into the flame and bring them up charred and covered with ashes. It's so bizarre that the three year old is the only one of my kids with the concentration and fixed purpose required to properly roast a hot dog. Still ... it was great fun.


The sunflowers have burst through the soil and are putting out their secondary leaves now. That's 36 feet of mammoth sunflowers right by the road, a pleasure to anyone driving or walking by and to me as well. They're tiny now, but they should eventually reach about 6 feet or more. That's a lesson for all of us, straight from God: start small, work a little bit every day, and before you know it the goal will have been achieved.

Introducing ... the ladies!

Just a couple of goat photos ... we've been pretty busy so the luxury of getting out to take some pictures hasn't been there, but Kat snapped a couple on the day of the herd's arrival. Here's the two ladies, year old does who will ultimately be our milkers.



This is Halley, the resident mother with her two kids. Both of them are bucks and the boys have given them complex Shakespearean names but I just call them "Thing 1" and "Thing 2". The boys have been banded and we're waiting for their testicles to fall off in the next few weeks. At this point they're a little over a month old, still nursing on Mom. We'll wean them at about two months and then start milking her twice a day. Right now we're not milking her, although our friend Susanne came over yesterday and showed us how to do it. Milking a goat isn't entirely difficult, but there's a trick to it that takes awhile to pick up. Once your hand has it, though, you have it and it's not that bad. My big paws can't hardly grab the teat correctly (stop laughing) and so as much milk goes down my wrist as goes into the bucket. Halley is a Nubian, though not entirely purebred. One of her grandparents was half Sonnen.



This is Primavera, who is as much of a Nubian as Halley but yet her La Mancha genes seem to have expressed themselves more clearly. Primavera (whose name means 'spring' in Spanish) had a single kid at around the same time Halley did, but it ingested some amniotic fluid into its lungs and died right after childbirth. I was told that she cried all night when they took the body away. She watches Halley's kids with a very maternal eye and when they're separated at feeding time she pines more than Halley does. She's a very loving and vocal goat who wants nothing more than to be around people. If I go outside anywhere on the farm, she stands at the fence and calls for me. (I'm sure our neighbors are as fond of Primavera as we are.)

So this is day three for the goats and we've got a feeding routine established, though the goats aren't used to it yet. At the farm where we bought them (and it was their previous owners who named them), they were part of a much larger herd. Now they've formed a new herd with Halley as Matriarch. Goats don't like to be alone, so when Halley goes the two kids follow her (naturally) and Primavera must follow. Moving them from pasture to pasture is a breeze due to this as well, since you only need to put a lead rope on Halley and the others will follow. They are beautiful creatures and we're blessed to have them in our lives. It's starting to look, feel, and sound like a real farm now instead of just five acres that needs mowing.

As an aside, getting them home in the minivan was really easy. I put a wooden pallet between the cargo area and the back seats and spread out a plastic tarp for them to sit on. They couldn't charge up into the driver's area and they weren't able to crap all over the inside of the van. Couldn't have been easier!

Have Goat, Will Travel

I picked up my goats this morning. A fine and outstanding coup, if I do say so myself (and I do). There’s Halley, a Nubian mother with two buck kids still nursing. And then there’s Primavera, a La Mancha-Nubian cross who lost her only kid right after childbirth this year. So Halley is ready for milking as soon as we’re ready, and Primavera will take over in the fall. Right now they’re getting used to their new home and I’ve got a nice stall in the Goat Hilton waiting for them. Look for some pictures of these new additions to our farm soon.

Oh, and if you’ve never brought home four goats in the back of a minivan, it’s an experience everyone should have at least once in their lifetime.

Wild Medicinals

At almost all points in time there are wild medicinal plants growing on the farm. Aside from the natural hemp that springs up in hedgerows, there’s plantain by the bushel and a couple of acres of clover. It’s raining this morning, so I’m not getting much done. I took a trip out to the orchard and some of the trees have real leaves on them. Small bunches of them. In another week’s time they’ll look like real trees instead of planted sticks.

I brewed up a couple of cups of clover tea this morning. I snipped off some fresh blossoms and put them in hot water for 10 minutes to create an infusion, then mixed in a little honey. It’s delicious, and supposed to be an all around good blood purifier. Later (when we have sunshine again), I’ll pick a couple of pounds and dry them on trays to store for later. A teaspoon per cup of the dried blossom is all that’s called for and we could enjoy the clover goodness for a long time.

The Inherent Conflict

I’m working from home today, helping to satisfy an emergency request from another organization within my company. Turns out they are billing a customer a ridiculous sum of money for a team of six people to perform a service … only here at the very last minute they discover that nobody on that team can actually perform that service. Somehow they got my name and called me yesterday at which point I agreed to help.

My mission in yesterday’s phone call with the customer was clearly defined: “Ernie, talk to them and give them some confidence.” No problem. I convinced them that this service was actually rather easy and they could follow the instructions I sent them (which have been publicly available on the web since 2001) and do it themselves.

Unfortunately I far exceeded my mandate and now there’s big discussions at executive levels about how to “salvage” this operation. It seems the customer is very happy that they can do this themselves, happy to have been shown how, and wondering why they needed to pay six people to do it for them. I kind of wonder the same thing.

I’m not a consultant. I am a “fixer” and I consider educating customers on how to fix things themselves as part of the “value-add” that Ernie provides. Few of my colleagues do this because they worry it might limit their future prospects with those customers. I don’t find that to be the case. I usually get invited back to the same customers over and over to teach them other things as well. We have an entire organization that does consulting work, building things, designing things, coding things .. consultants. And occasionally I come into contact with them, which almost always means conflict.

I find my basic philosophy of simplifying technology and educating customers to be at odds with their mission statement of “extract as much money as possible by doing all of the work for them.”

Chicken Casualties

So we lost one of the baby chicks this morning and tonight there’s one more of them which is acting poorly. The little guy doesn’t want to get up and just sits there looking awful. The others walk around, peck on the ground, and generally act like happy little chicks. When one is sick, it’s easy to spot in the crowd. They don’t hold their wings close to their body, but let them trail out to the side or at odd angles. They sprawl their legs off to the side or behind them and when a loud noise or invading human hand drives the others to the far side of the brooder box, the sickly one just lays there. I hope he makes it through the night and starts thriving, but God’s will applies to little chicks as it does us all.

Chicken Herding

Most of the chicks are lively and happy. They’re eating and drinking and scrapping with each other in the big brooder box of love. A couple aren’t looking so hot and are laying down, as if suffering from some severe sort of avian lethargy. The one that died this morning looked like that too, so I don’t know how these are going to fare either. Just like they say “don’t count your chickens until they hatch …”, I also won’t count them dead until they’re dead. We all have bad days, and they’ve had a rough entrance into the world. I have hopes, however, that the chickens that make it to pasture will be the hardier of the lot.

I finished the fence around the goat barn today, with Kat’s help. The goats have been moved (again) to Thursday morning pickup, so another day’s delay will give me time to get their stalls cleaned out and fresh hay laid down. I added some kitchen scraps to the compost heap and threw on a layer of straw. I planted a half row of cantaloupe and a half row of sweet corn. Now it’s starting to rain and I’m essentially done for the day. Which is good .. I’m exhausted. On top of all this, I spent about 3 hours on the phone helping out a customer today.

Busy busy busy.

Losses 1

This morning we lost one of the baby chicks. The temperature dropped in there last night pretty low since I turned off the secondary lamp (82 degrees as of this morning). I was thinking that I didn’t want them to swelter while we weren’t awake to check on them. In hindsight it’s probably better to let it get a little too hot since they can move away from the lamp … they can’t move away from the cold. They’d also ran out of water in the night. The chick was alive this morning when I checked on him, but not up and moving. I dipped his beak in water a couple of times and he drank, but when I set him back down he promptly died on the spot. No sign of any problems … his vent is clean.

Farm Round-up

So it’s the close of day two and all of our baby chickens are alive still. The brooder box is staying between 90-100, with a brief spike up to 110 today before we turned off the secondary lamp (and ended up with roast chicken, Colonel’s secret recipe). I went to put some more hay up with Tom and mentioned that my chicks had arrived. “Did you dip their beaks in water so they know they’re supposed to drink?” Uh, no. “Did you put grit in with their food?” Uh, no. “Did you wipe their butts?” Uh, no. I wasn’t aware I was supposed to do any of those things with baby chicks, however, mine are smart enough to know how to drink and they’re eating heartily now. I borrowed a cup of grit from Tom and tomorrow is butt-wiping day where I inspect and wipe 41 little chicken butts. Apparently they get clogged up on their little feathers and it prevents them from pooping and they might die. Pretty much every bit of advice about tending to baby chicks ends with, “they might die.”

My apple trees out in the back pasture have little leaf buds opening up on them. The dirt has collapsed a little around their holes, but overall they are looking very good. I’ll put in a little topsoil tomorrow (with fertilizer) and give them some more water, but I’m very impressed with how well they’re coming along. For a couple of days there I was worried that I might have purchased and planted 10 sticks. Now they’re starting to look a little like real trees.

My bees are coming on or around the 25^th. Which is good because in the pastures the clover is in bloom. The yellow dandelions gave way to puffballs and then the puffballs gave way to clover blossoms. It’s absolutely beautiful out there, even if the grass is getting a little unmanageable. There’s dozens of varieties of things growing, many of which I can’t identify but sure look pretty. It’s a healthy pasture, if unkempt. Time for some goats and a cow or two.

I’m taking tomorrow to finish goat-proofing the barn paddock and then on Wednesday morning I’m going to pick them up. Tom has been really good about these goats and I feel lucky to know him. He’s taken an extra effort to help me learn how to take care of them, showing a deep respect for animal husbandry.

My work has not been going so well. While I was moving and on vacation I’ve pretty much ignored all of my commitments and now they’re coming due. Time to crack to it, Ernie. The work pays for the farm, and it needs a little time and devotion as well.

Baby chicks and the Brooder Box!

So Murray McMurray says the chickens will arrive the week of the 21st, and they weren't kidding. The post office in Rockford called me around 6pm tonight and said my chicks had arrived. I could hear peeping in the background. So I drove an hour into town to go get them, borrowed a brooder lamp from my buddy Don, and then we came back and dumped them in the brooder box. It's a painfully simple setup. We made a 4'x4' wooden box out of plywood, braced at the corners and open at the top and bottom. Ultimately it will have a lid with chicken-wire across it, but that's for a little bit later. I have the materials, but they need a cutting. It's open at the bottom and we put newspaper on the concrete with wood chips on top. That's supposedly for easier cleaning. That remains to be seen.



They come in a cardboard box labeled "Baby chicks -- please rush". They huddle close together for warmth, pushing and shoving into a big ball of baby chicks.



They're pretty cute. They peep and hop and do their little chicken thing. While you're looking at the adorable little fluffballs, remember that a chicken is the most efficient converter of grain to meat that a farmer can raise. Every two pounds of corn equals one pound of edible, juicy meat. Mmm mmm good!



Murray McMurray likes to send along a "mystery bird" with each order. This little black guy is so far holding his own with the others, though they like to peck at him. I suspect that may get overwhelming later on, ending in a brutal and premature death for our mystery chicken. If that proves to be the case, it'll be the last time I check the box where I accept the mystery bird.



Here they are in the bottom of the brooder box. It's a comfy 82 degrees Fahrenheit in there, though it should be closer to 90. The chicks huddle under the lamp for warmth, pressing into the big ball of chicken that they prefer. When it's too cold they cluster, when it's too warm they spread out. An evenly spaced group of chickens in the brooder box indicates the proper heat level.

So the box arrived with no dead chicks, but one seems to be a little sickly. He's not moving around much and doesn't seem to have the energy to walk upright, though he did make it to the water dish earlier for a drink. I apply food tomorrow and we'll see if he survives, and if any others start looking bad.

Things are coming together. Apples and chickens, and goats and bees later this week. Even the garden is thriving and we've got tomatoes, basil, and onions planted so far. This is going to be a busy week, considering I'm working too. Boo yaa!

Apple Orchard

Well the trees arrived last week and we got the orchard planted. We took some pictures to get it all documented, and I'm just now getting around to posting them up.

The trees came in a box from Stark Bros. Nursery, one of the oldest nurseries around. 5 Granny Smith and 5 Fuji trees, all crammed into this box. It was about $240 including shipping, running at around $22 per tree. That's better than the $30-50 you'll see trees for at your local nursery.



Inside the box, they just sort of shove the trees into the plastic wrap with some wet newspaper wrapped around their roots. As soon as you open up the box they start drying out, so there's not much time from that point.



Here's the site of the future orchard. Note the small, red flags billowing in the breeze. They are all marked "Nicor" because I stole them from the gas company when they came out and marked where their utility pipes were. Waste not, want not ... that's the farming motto. The beautiful view is from the hill at the top of our farm, looking back down towards the barn and the back of the house.



I've got lots of help. Dig the hole, drop tree in hole, add dirt and some water back in as you go. I like to pour a little water in the hole as I'm putting the dirt in so it stays moist down there.



Take plenty of breaks. Digging in the thick clay is hard work. If you don't know what a post-hole digger is, that's the contraption I'm leaning on. It's not really the tool of choice for planting apple trees, but I found it works pretty well. At least for getting the tree in the hole.



Make sure there's a pretty lady standing around to watch you work. Helps if at this point you've got bulging farm muscles, but I don't. All I've got is dirty, tattered clothes and blisters on my hands. Hope she loves me anyway.



And when I was done, there were 10 of these bad boys planted ... 9 up in the orchard and one down by the road as an "ambassador" of sorts. I arranged the orchard so that every tree borders at least one other tree of a different variety. It's kind of like trying to work out a Rubik's cube. Who says farming doesn't require brainpower?

Now I'm carting water to them every day (if it doesn't rain). I haul three 10 gallon buckets out there to them and use 1 bucket per row. The soil around the trees is sinking, evidence that it didn't pack very tightly on the initial planting. Still, they seem to hold water pretty nicely and it drains down into the hole quickly when I pour it around the base of each tree. Now I keep doing this for about four to five years and presto ... apples!

Hay Time

Last night I went over and helped Tom and the others put up hay in their barn. We had enough help so it wasn’t too odious of a job. In between wagons we drank beer and relaxed under the trees, listening to Mike play his guitar. It was a real family event, though I had neglected to bring Kat and the boys … I didn’t realize what it’d be like. Next time I’ll know.

Things are progressing along nicely. The garden is getting planted, row by row, and the brooder box is complete except for the lid and ready to be put into position. I have a little more to do in goat-proofing the pasture, namely setting it up so that the gates and corners are secure, and then we’re ready for our new goat herd. It’s Sunday, so a day of rest and reflection, and no more than perhaps a little work. I am so very content.

Farmer Concepts

My corporate life is filled with non-disclosure agreements and trade secrets and contractual obligations. Now I’m suddenly stepping into a world where people not only show me how they do things, but they are pleased to see me doing the same as they are, not as competitors, but as another man on the wall, or another fellow guarding the ramparts of micro-agriculture. They even open up their books and show me their finances, what they make and what they spend, areas I would have considered highly private and secretive. No, these people want to see each other succeed. They have a genuine love for what they’re doing and are brought into it with a love of something beyond money. It’s difficult to get a handle on.

What they do closely guard is their time. And after doing this for a few weeks now, I can see why. There’s always more tasks to do, more projects to tackle than there is time with which to accomplish those things. Precision gets pushed aside for brevity and “done is better than perfect”. It’s easy to get a farmer to talk to you, but you’d better be willing to follow him through his chores and carry some chickens, wield a shovel loading manure on a cart, or haul a bucket or two of water. And when you’re learning while you’re doing it, then it doesn’t seem like work at all.

Procrastination Ernie

I spent most of the morning over at CSA Learning Center, which is this project run by the farmer’s group I just joined. My purpose was to get some info on the goats I’m buying and also see when I could pick them up. We’re anxious! A fifteen minute jaunt turned into 4 hours, and then popping in at a garage sale down my street turned into 2 more hours of talking to the neighbors, who are a chatty bunch. So I got back to the house at around 2pm, managed to get a little bit done around here, and then I sawed up the pieces for the brooder box. I cut up all the pieces and then had to take a phone call about some goat feed, and by the time I was done Kat had already assembled the main box structure. Go, Kat, go! She’s a whiz with a power tool, let me tell you.

So that particular project that’s been hanging over my head is almost done. It’ll be done probably by tomorrow afternoon when I build the lid and tack on the bottom. At that point we’re ready for the chickens. I’m almost ready for the goats … I need feed for them which I’m getting tomorrow, and then I need to finish goat-proofing the gates so they can’t just walk right under. Shouldn’t take a world of trouble and then I’ll be done. I’m really ready to be done, but when that’s finished I’ve got to finish the garden. Realistically, I can go ahead and start planting before too much longer. I can hoe as I go.

I go back to work on Monday with a 3 day trip, and then I’ve got some more downtime before my next one. Life sure has gotten busy for me lately.

Long Day Closing

It’s 8:30pm, too dark to see now. Today I’ve fixed the fence (750’ perimeter) around the barn paddock, made a run to Farm and Fleet, and laid down 3 rows (out of 18) in my garden. Hoeing is a lot harder than I realized. I’ve struck at a few weeds before, but I’ve never actually had to swing a hoe constantly for a long duration. Certainly not had to raise 18 rows, 36’ each. 3 is about the most I can manage before I’m dripping with sweat and ready to fall down. The ground is soaked from the rain we had this afternoon, and I don’t know if that makes it easier or harder.

I’ll resume work in the morning at dawn, aiming to get the gates goat-proofed, if any such state exists, and the other 15 rows laid down and some planting started. We’ll see where I am by nightfall tomorrow.

The work is exhausting, but I’m proud of it and it’s my own. My fence is saggy and my rows aren’t straight, but it’s what I’ve done for my farm and family. I don’t know that I could ask for a more noble endeavor.

Barn Paddock Fencing ... DONE

Yesterday I visited Angelic Organics and spoke to some of the folks who participate in CRAFT, a small organic farm cooperative in my area. And Tom had goats for sale, so that pushed up our plans quite a bit. He came by last night to see the area where they’ll be kept, which was somewhat of an inspection I think. I find that pretty responsible, to see if the future home for your goats is appropriate for them. Anyway, he pointed out that there was an easier way to fix the fence … just remove the staples and lower it. I don’t know why this didn’t occur to me. I was already halfway done with the grueling operation of running chicken wire around it, but I stripped all that out today and lowered the fence all the way around. Now all that remains to be done is to goat-proof the gates and the corners where I couldn’t lower the fence, and then we’re ready for our new herd!

Apple Trees DONE

The apple trees arrived in the mail yesterday via UPS. One little box where they stuffed all those trees wrapped in plastic, no dirt on the roots and only a few shreds of moist newspaper to keep them wet. They were pretty dry by the time I got them, so I immediately set to work. I dug 10 holes in the pre-designated areas and planted my trees. There are 9 up on the orchard hill and 1 down by the fence along the road, as an ambassador of sorts. It was grueling but only took about 5 hours from start to finish. My back is killing me from the effort though.

Raised Beds

This isn't much of a "how-to" but it's kind of a "how-I-did" post. I'll try to explain where I think I went wrong so if any of you are using this as a guide (I pity you) then you can adjust on your own plan.



I started with a nice empty spot that gets full sun throughout the day. From about 7am until 7pm right now, the spot where my raised beds are going are almost completely in the sun. Another consideration was water ... how far was it from a faucet and could I reach it with a hose? Final consideration was that, unless I put a garden there, then this patch is a big empty place I'd just have to mow. See my way of thinking? I've laid a couple of the boards (1' wide and 16' long) out for scale in this picture. They fit better than I thought.



I cut one of the 16' boards into 4 pieces using a circular saw. No, I don't have pictures of me using the saw because my camera-woman was standing by with a tourniquet. Despite all expectations, I still have all of my fingers and I didn't even cut through the power cord. I'm very careful with power saws -- I've known many, many 4 fingered carpenters. Having sawn the 4 foot lengths, I simply fitted them to the ends to assemble a box shape. Most designs for raised beds seemed to call for posts embedded in the ground at the corners for stability, but it seemed to me that this heavy box filled with dirt was not likely to move around in the yard anyway. Plus, if this experiment turns out a failure, or when the boards rot away in 10 years, then it's easier to remove.



I purchased 6 cubic yards of topsoil (which allegedly came out of some old cornfield) and had it dumped in the plowed garden (mark the large circle). Over a period of days I moved it all into the completed raised beds. A wheelbarrow was appropriate to the task and at this point I found out that the posts were kind of required if you're going to be bumping into the beds with wheelbarrows, lawnmowers, water buffalo, etc. Still, it didn't seem to matter too much. They were already out of alignment slightly and I had decided not to correct them (did I mention these were heavy?) and the farming motto seems to be "done is better than perfect" when it comes to certain tasks. Also note the transition from a clean-cut lawn to a scruffy, weed-infested paradise. This entire process took about a week and a half and could have probably been finished in three days if A) I hadn't been doing 500 other things simultaneously, B) so out of shape as to get exhausted moving a couple of wheelbarrow loads of dirt at a time, C) come down with a bad case of the epizoobic.

Total costs: 12 boards at $30 each, $120 for a dumptruck load of topsoil, and 20+ hours of backbreaking manual labor. While it was an expensive start-up cost, you could go with shorter boards, or rougher lumber and maybe save some money. The expectation is that these raised beds will probably last 10 years before the boards rot away, and even then I expect the soil to maintain its shape. I didn't fill them in completely because A) I ran out of dirt, and B) over time, added compost will provide some additional fill. The topsoil is almost completely devoid of organic matter. I added some dried horse manure to it (shoveled in said wheelbarrow out of the barn) and I'll add some nutrients this year in the form of organic fertilizer. In the future I hope to be adding only compost.

This also marks the completion of the first farm task. Only about 3 dozen more to go!

Naming the Farm

This is a big step. We’ve come up with a couple but none we’re really pleased with. None that BOTH of us are happy with anyway. So maybe you folks can contribute some ideas … certainly my brain isn’t coming up with anything else in its mucus-filled state …

We’re looking for something that speaks of renewal and sustainability. Not too complex so that it needs a translator, but also something that isn’t taken by 500 other farms or a major brand label. Any ideas?

Hey, You Turkey

Kat and I were enjoying a peaceful moment together sitting out under one of the old maples when around the corner of the house walks a rude fellow. Head held high and proud but wary, his wattles flapping as he walked by was a juvenile gobbler all alone. He strutted past us and into the torn-up goat pasture where the septic field was recently installed. He moved up and down the fence, looking for a way across before he went through the open gate into the barn paddock, through an open gate by the barn, and then out of sight towards where the orchard will be. He was unafraid and the whole family got a good look at him.

I don’t particularly care for turkey, much less wild turkey which is even drier. I suppose unless they make a nuisance of themselves, these visitors will be welcome, if nothing else but for the entertainment they bring.

Plantain, the wonder drug

In the back pasture, I have hundreds of different plants growing, many of them highly medicinal. From Foxtail grass to plantain, you can sit down anywhere and pick three different plants that are good for you. The neglect of the previous owner is our gain, and part of the reason we bought this place. At least the pastoral neglect, that is.

Plantain is good for wounds (when applied as a poultice), taken internally as an overall health booster and is thought to be useful in upper respiratory infections and to relieve coughing. That's why I'm searching it out today. I could easily gather up a bushel of the stuff, but I only took a handful in order to make an infusion. I thought that while it steeped I'd take this opportunity to once again remind you of the beneficial nature of plantain.

The Busy Week

Our baby chicks (40 Rhode Island Reds) coming from Murray McMurray will be arriving the week of the 21^st. Don was kind enough to show me his brooder box and take me over to his neighbor Margaret to get her to show me theirs too. Margaret’s setup is a bit too complex for my feeble engineering skills, but she raises maybe 300 broilers a year for sale. Pigs too! Margaret is quite a woman, it seems. One of the things I like about asking Don to show me stuff is that he points out all of his design flaws and explains how he would correct it if he’d build it again. I’ve got to get a brooder box built this week, regardless of how icky I feel.

On the 19^th there is a goat auction in Monroe, and if I can’t find any by then, I’ll try to go out there and pick some up. Assuming the truck runs well enough to pull that off. In order to successfully keep goats, I’ve got to fix the barn door, rig something up with the stalls so the goats can’t walk out below the door, and then lay about 600 more feet of chicken wire around the perimeter of the barn paddock. Piece of cake.

My bees are coming around the 25^th, and I have no equipment yet. After I get paid this week, I’ll go get a bee suit (thanks to Chuck, the keeper of the bees, I already have a smoker) so I won’t need to be out there working the hive with a t-shirt wrapped around my head.

Apple trees were shipped on the 10^th, so any day now I’ve got to go dig 10 holes and plant the trees. I’ve put down flags marking where they’ll go, 20 feet apart with rows 25 feet apart. 5 Granny Smith and 5 Fuji … mmm mmm good!

 

Some Bird Shots

Because it's the middle of the night and this sinus cold is keeping me awake, I'll go ahead and post a couple of these bird photos. Kat took some of these, and I took some of the others, and I think Jared even took a few.


This is "El Rojo" and "Rosebud", a mated pair of Northern Cardinals who are nesting on the farm. They visit the feeder every day, several times each day. Lately we haven't been seeing her as much, so we're hoping she's sitting on a brood in their little hidden lovenest. They are an immense pleasure to watch. Sometimes, when the mood is right, you can see him pick up goodies from the ground to carry over to her.



Blue Jays are noisy, fractious, and rude. Yet they sure know how to pose. We've got several that have found the feeder, and their obnoxious cries fill the trees whenever I'm outside. Sometimes they show up in force and strut around on the ground below the feeder, looking like a birdie street gang.



I'm aware he isn't a bird, but he likes to show up and raid the feeder anyway. If there's not enough food on the ground, he'll tip the feeder sideways and give it a little shake. I find them a menace and as soon as I can acquire a .22 rifle then I'll post some squirrel recipes. Kat refuses to eat them and chides me for it, saying, "there is nothing more hillbilly than eating squirrel." Maybe so, but I think we should all embrace our inner hillbilly from time to time.



The birds think the recently plowed garden is a buffet table. The fact that they found so many grubs and earthworms out there is a sign of healthy soil. That's encouraging, though right after my friend Don plowed it the sun came out and baked all those clay clods into broken pottery shards. We figure this year's garden will be tough to hoe, and next will be less so, and the third year even less.



There is nothing more ferocious and frightening than the American Robin early in the morning ... if you're a worm, that is. I watch these guys cover the yard in definitively marked territories every morning. "Hey, buddy, you know that east of the driveway is my turf. Get out of here before I peck your eyes out." They'll pluck out a two inch earthworm, throw him back, and then keep looking. I call them the "lions of the lawn", but it's not particularly true. If lions ate like this, then there would be no gazelles left at all.



This White-Breasted Nuthatch is one of the few birds who actually seems to prefer the feeder. The others check the ground first and only THEN will they fly up to eat out of the tray. Maybe the pretty red roof is intimidating. The nuthatch is a peculiar bird and he hops around on the ground instead of walking like a robin. He will often perch upside down, clinging to the rough bark of the old maple as he looks around. They are frequent visitors and always make me smile.



I'll close with El Rojo feeding his beloved birdie bride. Gentleman, El Rojo says, "Ladies prefer cracked corn."

Blech cold ...

Still sick … found camera phone cable … will post pictures soon … if I don’t drown in my own mucus.

The Big Stinkin' Hole

The septic tank people have come and gone, installing the new field lines. They lead from the tank to the goat pasture, through a newly-made hole in the fence where a gate may as well go in the future, and across 1/4^th of an acre. It’s a pretty big field and the installer says it should last us upwards of 70 years. I asked him if there were any longer-lasting solutions, but all I got was a funny look.

The backyard looks about like I expected it to look. There’s an enormous chewed up spot just off the deck and in a trail leading down to the pasture, and that nice green field is now scattered clay clods and enormous rocks. After a few days baking in the sun, that clay will turn into hardpan of the worst sort with a texture somewhat like pottery shards. I’m going to try and get some clover seed on it tomorrow and maybe in the future that’ll help some. Everything is at least 6 inches down, so in the future I may be able to till or plow that field and return it to use. For now, the goats will enjoy the nice, green poo-grass that will grow there.

During the digging, they struck one of the existing field lines and so the entire area is a foul-smelling, sodden mess. I’ll be glad when this scar heals over. I hate starting out like this.

Okra sprouting

I cut a gallon plastic milk jug in two and filled the bottom half with dirt, then put in some okra seeds. Seven days later (today) they’ve sprouted. I had initially taped the top portion of the milk jug back to the bottom to serve as a ‘mini-greenhouse’ and it seemed to have done the trick.

Another Glimpse of the Future

I haven’t blogged about peak oil in a little while, but I’m going to do so again. It’s on my mind lately as I consider the relatively staggering amount of energy required to keep this farm producing. Most farmers in America today do it with oil. That’s not really my intended method, because I don’t consider oil to be reliable over the long run. Sure, a little oil today may get me started, but it’s not going to be the salvation of tomorrow. I’m going to need to grow enough food to feed my family and my livestock for an entire year. Not just in terms of calories, but also grow it in enough diversity to keep us healthy. It can be done without much hardship, but we’re going to need to change some of our ideas.

Right now we don’t like the idea of raising mammals for food, but I foresee a future where that will change. Ruminant animals convert solar power in the form of inedible (to humans) grass to food at the highest rate possible. Chickens do pretty good, but they’re also somewhat high maintenance. More so than goats, anyway. There’s a reason why you see so many goats in the Third World.

We’re running out of oil, and it may be closer than we think. The farm is the proving ground for sustainability. There’s so many things to learn, I could consider it my college as well. Plus we’re in an area where I can barter and trade somewhat for food. With luck, the starving hordes from Chicago and Rockford won’t find us on the back roads, and there’s also some hope that, while our government may turn totalitarian in its death throes, the rural enforcers of the government decrees may prove less than efficient or unwilling to persecute their neighbors. That’s a lot of iffiness there.

PANT PANT PANT

Putting up fence is HARD WORK.

Hello, Summer Cold

And now it’s here … the same icky summer cold the whole family comes down with every year. Everyone else is a snot factory, but I’m still not at that stage. I just feel like crap and I’m easily exhausted. Not a good time for me to get sick. I’ve got to finish the raised beds, then Don is coming over to finish plowing the big garden, and I’ve got apple trees to plant towards the end of next week, as well as my normal garden. Did I mention I also need to build a brooder box for the chickens arriving the week of the 21^st, finish the front of the chicken coop itself, and then fence in the barn pasture to hold the goats we’re looking to buy? Oh, and my bees arrive at the end of the month.

Yeah, if there was ever a time I could stand to NOT be sick, this is it.

Bee Droppings and More

Did you know that bees don’t like to crap in their hive? They fly out a bit to drop their load and then return. They are fastidious little buggers!

I’m ALMOST done filling in the raised beds. That’s been a pretty painful chore, but if I don’t do it then nobody else will. Placing the garden beds right by the front road has proved beneficial. It seems to attract neighbors who like to stop and ask what I’m doing or otherwise say hello. Despite the fact that we live on a nowhere road that terminates on a dirt road in the woods, there’s a lot of foot traffic in front of our house. Probably more so than there was in the suburbs. These folks seem nicer though.

I put an air filter back on the carb for the farm truck and it seems to run a little better. I didn’t take it for a spin around the block because I’m not sure how much gas is in it (the gas gauge doesn’t work) and also due to the lack of insurance. Well, it might also be the quasi-obscene sayings on the back window that the idiot kid who owned it put there. “Save a tree … eat a beaver.” Yeah, I’m not driving that around until I get that off of there.

Still haven’t made much progress on unpacking the basement … but today marks our first full week in this house. Loving it still, despite the stuff we’ve had to fix already and the minor hassles. Nothing is easy, and what isn’t easy is sometimes appreciated more.

Moths in my pockets

Today I had to buy a sump pump when ours burned out (in the new house no less!) and then followed this purchase with that of a pickup. It’s a 1974 Dodge in poor condition, but it runs ok and seems to be otherwise sound. $800 bucks and we were able to drive it from the guy’s house back to the farm, so it can’t be in too awful of condition. I had a horrible moment when I took it around the block, the engine died and I couldn’t get it restarted until I got out and tapped the carb, but other than that it’ll be a serviceable farm truck. Once I peel off all the “no fat chicks” stickers on the rear window. It’s a white truck, and I’m threatening to paint on some black markings too so it looks like a Holstein cow. Kat’s not digging that idea any more than the “no fat chicks” stickers.

Hell, if the engine falls out tomorrow and I have to drop $1000 to get it running again, then I’ve still got a pretty good deal. A truck, paid for in cash, that I can haul stuff to and from the farm.

Bee Economics

To clarify some math …

One hive can produce around 100 pounds of honey. That’s 133 quart jars full. At $8 per jar, that’s $1064 per hive per season, assuming you can sell them all. Chuck assured me he never has problems selling honey.

Ernie's Bee Adventure

So yesterday morning I went out to look at some beehives. The beekeeper, Chuck, had agreed to show me how it all works after I invited myself out to his place to take a look. After a little while he warmed up to me. He’s an older fellow, probably in his late sixties or early seventies, and somewhat of a grouch. I liked him immediately but it took him some time to get used to this wild-eyed hippy who had shown up on his doorstep. He showed me his swarm traps and explained that process, and then we went to look at the bees. It being around 10am, the hives were already active. I could see little bees coming and going out the front entrance, the ones coming back in were carrying loads of pollen which Chuck says is the sign of a healthy hive. There were a few dead and dying bees by the front of the hive, which is also normal. Bees live about 60 days before they wear themselves out with exhaustion (I know the feeling) and then their sisters just pick them up and carry them to the lip outside of the front entrance to finish dying. They squirm around there for a time, dying slowly, while their sisters fly off overhead to carry out the will of the hive.

What I was impressed with was how gentle the bees were. I could walk right up to the hiver and we even opened the top and peeked inside, without any bee protection at all. That particular hive only became agitated when I stood in front of their entrance, blocking their flight path. They buzzed around me, annoyed, but not really angry. When I moved, they went back to ignoring us. They’re really fascinating creatures.

Then Chuck mentioned that he had one hive which had “went African” on him. Africanized honeybees, or killer bees as they’re called. Would I like to look at those? You betcha. I wanted to see how their aggression compared to the gentle Italian bees we had just been looking at. Boy was that a mistake. As soon as we approached the hive, the African bees became very agitated. They started to zoom us, coming in close and angry to our faces. An angry bee sounds different than a happy bee. I don’t know how to explain the difference, but you know it immediately when you hear it. It just sounds angrier. And when one got mad, they ALL got mad. The entire hive was buzzing in under a minute and bees were boiling out of the entrance and circling the hive, looking for the intruders who had dared walk within 10 feet of their sacred territory. An angry hive full of 70,000 angry killer bees within 3 feet of you is really something that everyone should hear in their lifetime. They were zooming us and we began to slowly make a retreat. You do everything slowly around all bees, but especially Africanized ones. Then Chuck got zapped on the neck by one. That signaled the full attack as the rest of the hive could now smell the pheromones covering him. Our slow and dignified retreat became a full on rout and we fled across the yard, swatting at bees. We ran to the safety of one of the other beehives and then kept going to the treeline.

It was during this retreat that I discovered how entirely unsuitable my attire was for dealing with bees. I was wearing an old pair of jeans with the knees worn through, leaving huge holes with the bees decided were excellent attack routes. They got inside my pants like X-wings buzzing the Death Star and I got zapped twice on the back of the leg. My hair was mostly under a bandana but that didn’t seem to stop them. They got into my hair, and once trapped there, they got even angrier. At one point I had probably twelve to fifteen bees stuck in my hair and trying to get out. Before I managed to shake them all out, one had stung me behind the ear. Even after most of them had gone back to the hive, the scouts would still zoom us, smelling the scent of their kamikaze brethren. African bees are not fun.

After that, seeing that my interest was still there, Chuck showed me how to work a hive and use smoke to calm the bees. We did this to the more placid Italian bees who took the smoke calmly and then just buzzed around saying, “Fuggedaboutit.” Chuck said that smoke doesn’t seem to work at all on the Africanized one and you’d better be prepared to wear a full suit if you have one of those. He plans to dissemble that hive in late August, after the honey flow, and hope the Africanized genes go away. Kill the queen, dissemble the hive, and the colony collapses, but between now and August he’ll still pull down over 100 pounds of honey from them. Since the hive is on the edge of his property and he can work the others without getting close to it, he’s not too concerned. 100 pounds of honey he divides into quart jars and sells them for $8 each. That’s a hefty bit of pocket cash and explains why he’s willing to wait until after the flow to destroy that hive.

He gave me lots of good info and a magazine on beekeeping, even circling the best ads for places to get beekeeping equipment. He advised that I should watch the trades and classifieds or even take out an ad myself, explaining that prices are prohibitive new but used is a very good market. Many people get into beekeeping, buy $4000 worth of equipment and then get stung a few times and quit. He promises that at the end of the month the hive will be mine and he’ll even deliver it for me. When I left he seemed content to have shown a new beekeeper the ropes, and even gave me two old smokers that he had and showed me how to use them. I feel like I made a friend, which is always worth getting stung over.

 

 

A Child's Question

This morning we’re watching a pair of mated cardinals at the bird feeder. The male (whom the boys have named ‘El Rojo’) is standing watch for a time. Then when he deems it safe, he goes down and picks select bits of seed that have fallen out of the feeder and onto the ground. He doesn’t eat these himself, but instead leans over to feed his special lady (named ‘Rosebud’) who waits patiently and with all the charm and class of a high-society dame at a fine French restaurant while her husband orders for her. We reflected for a bit on all the trials and tribulations this couple is facing, what with a competing male moving into El Rojo’s territory (whom the boys have given the villainous name of ‘General Rubious’) and the assortment of crows and blue jays and hawks that would gladly devour their eggs or their hatchlings. El Rojo is vigilant and bold and sings his song proudly from his watchful perch.

Jared wonders why God made the world so hard for such beautiful and innocent creatures. I have no good answer. Is God perhaps cruel and unjust as some have proposed? I don’t think so, otherwise we would never see the cardinals at all. It would be a barren wasteland, a Hell of burning sand where we would be forced to eke out a living instead of the lush, green world that my family is now blessed to inhabit.

No, I believe this is a fallen world in which all of God’s creatures must struggle to survive. Perhaps the story of Adam and the Garden of Eden holds true and the world has fallen due to man’s sin. I do not think the beautiful birds would suffer because of us though. Rather I think it’s by design a fallen paradise, a world where even the trees must compete with each other in a life and death struggle for sunlight and nutrients, albeit in slow motion. The world is the forge at which our souls are crafted. As we appreciate the warmth and beauty of spring after a hard winter, our reuniting with God after a lifetime in this world will be. The joy I see at spring’s first bloom will be nothing compared to the joy I will know in God’s presence.

That is our trial, and perhaps a different one than faced by El Rojo and Rosebud. They must simply live in accordance to God’s plan for cardinals. You and I must live according to God’s plan for us, which he was compassionate enough to have written down and explained to us. More so than that, he came here to live in this fallen world as a man to show us how to live. If we stay true to Christian ideals, despite the world’s pull towards sin, then we will be blessed with the eternal kingdom of God. As in this world it will be in the next, for our sin will keep us further from God. My infinitely compassionate God is not the same as the God of eternal damnation and torture. He would not so rig the game as to place us in a fallen world for a brief time, to falter again and again and then be judged for eternity based on those actions. No, it’s our sin that takes us further away from God, and with the blood of Jesus Christ we can be forgiven of that sin and brought back into God’s presence. Bless you all.

Beat ...

I was supposed to go out to Angelic Organics today and take a class on composting, but I missed it. My friend Don showed up with his tractor (thought that was happening this evening instead) and plowed up the 2400 square foot garden area in front of the house for me. He’s a great guy and we chatted for a long time about my plans for the farm. I’m blessed that someone so close by is doing what I’m doing. Makes this all seem a little easier and I already feel like part of a community.

A load of topsoil I ordered (6 cubic yards!) showed up and got dumped in my yard, so I spent this evening putting it into the raised beds. I’m about 1/4^th of the way done with that project. I think it’s going to consume more time than I thought. Every muscle between my big toe and the top of my head is aching from throwing shovelfuls of dirt around. I’ve got an option to pick up another 6 cubic yards, but I haven’t yet determined if I’ll need it.

Bought 750 feet of chicken wire today to try and goat-proof the pasture with the barn. I haven’t yet figured out how to do that, but I need to get a move on with that project. Kat is really wanting her goats. Once we get that pasture fenced off we can see about doing some of the others out of future paychecks. Gonna take a lot of chicken wire, but it’s relatively inexpensive since I’m just running 2 foot of it at the bottom of the existing fence for added security. It runs $30 per 150’ roll. I can see this will be a long running project unless I want to drain all my finances in one pop.

Tomorrow morning I go to see the bees! I’m taking my digital camera so I can get lots of photos and understand later on how to do some of this. I’m tired, but happy. Things are going pretty good.

Beehive for sale

I found a classified ad in the paper tonight for a guy selling a beehive for a very reasonable price. I called and asked about it and he said he couldn’t sell it just yet. I asked why and he explained that the bee colony hasn’t reached full strength. A hive for 1/4^th of the price of a new one, AND it’s got bees already in it? He even said he’d deliver! He was a nice guy all the way around. He agreed to show me around on Sunday when I invited myself over to look at his operation. I’m ready!

Raised beds are done!

Today marks the completion of the first farm chore for me … the building of the raised beds! I ran out of lumber (math is not my strong suit) and so I ended up with 4, but that’s more symmetrical and it pleases She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed. Now I just need 256 cubic feet of topsoil and I’m in business.

My neighbor, Don of Pine Row Farm, is coming over either today or tomorrow with his tiller and we’re going to prepare the rest of the garden area (that I didn’t build out with beds). He’s got a very envious operation, and he’s essentially doing what we’re working towards. I couldn’t be happier to have met someone like that. I looked at his chicken coops this morning and came to the conclusion that I can actually build one. (Smashed finger and all)

OUCH

I have a second degree burn across the back of my middle finger on the right hand and another one on the index finger. (Hot grease potato incident). They are killing me, and as I go about trying to get work done, I kept bumping it or getting dirt in it.

Then today, I smashed it with a hammer.

Unexpected Visitors

In the barn, since it’s been empty for a few days, we’ve got a couple of visitors. A mating pair of barn swallows have moved in. Every time I go out there, in my attempts to shovel out the 3 feet of shit-straw combo the previous owners left, I scare off the barn swallows. They’re nesting in an apparently harmless location, and haven’t actually started building a nest yet. Such a beautiful bird, but I don’t know what to do about it. Do I try to move them on to somewhere else, or do I let it ride for now? Ah, the dilemma of a bird fan. One wants to keep a clean, bird-poop free barn, but one also doesn’t want to disturb this rare prize of a bird in its nesting.

The Farm List

Here’s my chores for the next two weeks:

 

Build 5 raised beds (16’x4’ each)

Build a compost heap

Build or acquire a chicken coop suitable for housing 40 birds

Setup temporary chicken housing in the garage or basement suitable for day old chicks

Dig down through 2 foot of old horse crap and straw so the barn door will once again close

Plant garden!

Baby chickens!

A straight run of Rhode Island Reds has been ordered and is winging its way here now. We won’t see the day old baby chicks until the week of May 21^st, at which point I may be coming off vacation and Kat will need to handle it, but we’re hoping I’ll still be around by then.

I like my neighbor’s Buff Orphingtons, but I don’t know enough about them and our long term plan has been to raise the Reds, so to a degree we’re sticking with those. I’m also going to look and see if I can’t mix and match to a certain degree, adding the Orphingtons to the flock at a later point. I may try and pick up some Orphingtons before the Reds even arrive. I’m so anxious to get started! But realistically I need to have a coop built before too much longer.

Garden Time

So I’m racing the clock here. Ever notice how all the seed packets you buy for everything always say, “Plant 6 weeks before last expected frost date”? Yeah, here in Illinois, that’s May 15^th. And I’m just now buying the seeds. Still, I’ll have the garden going soon. I ordered a crapload of lumber today and it’ll be delivered tomorrow. By the time the sun goes down on Sunday, I should have 5 raised beds (16’x4’ if you’re interested) for a total of 320 square feet of gardening goodness. That ought to cover our personal garden this year, and then I’m going to try and rent or borrow a roto-tiller and plow up another 1000 square foot somewhere on the back pasture. I’ll plant a mishmash of things out there, hoping that I can get enough to actually sell something this year. I have high hopes.

The amount of work I have to do is tempered by the fact that I want to just sit and idle away the time looking at the green, rolling pasture and watching all the birds. I see a couple of new species every day and they’re absolutely beautiful. Then there’s the house … ugh … the cleaning and unpacking that needs to be done. Kat and I are extremely busy right now.

In the next few days (when I find the camera cable), I’ll post some pictures of what we’re doing around here and some more of the farm itself. Still haven’t decided on a name yet. Kat voted for, “Half-Ass Farm” today, based on the state of everything as we found it. I’ve met a couple of neighbors and been getting quite a bit done. The next couple of days will be the real kickers.

And we're back!

It’s as beautiful as we’d hoped for. We’re really enjoying it. Some nitnoid things and the people who moved out left it REALLY filthy, but we can overcome that. I’m starting on the big garden tomorrow.

Life is very good. We’re feeling the blessings.