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Hi Everyone,
Some weeks I feel like I have nothing to write about—for all we did was milk the cows, move the animals to new pastures, weed in the garden, process chickens, package eggs, cook meals, do laundry, and sleep. This week is totally different though. While we did all the normal things—each was seasoned with a good dose of adventure. So grab a cup of hot tea, head out to the rocking chair on your front porch, enjoy the beautiful fall weather, and cozy in for a story of adventure. We’ll sail the ocean blue, tramp across the open prairie, hide some treasures, meet new friends, and rescue lost shoes.
Well, we didn’t exactly sail the ocean blue—but with all the rain last week we did find our milking parlor half-way surrounded by water. It wasn’t blue water either, it was pretty brown. The ducks didn’t care though, they swam and bathed and mated to their hearts content. Where the cows usually waited in line to be milked was knee deep in mud. We spent about an hour rerouting hot wire so that the cows would be in the grass. The exit lane away from the parlor was only ankle deep, and it had to become the entrance and exit lane. It was perfect—except that the cows could stand near the milking parlor which is on the south side of the field, but in order to get into the milking parlor they had to go north and enter through the gate. Going north in order to come south was beyond their comprehension. It is kind of like leaving the Atlanta airport and flying to New York in order to go to Miami. We accomplished it every day though, and each day got a little easier. This morning we were out there in the dark trying to coax the cows north so that they could go south—and it didn’t help that Sally was in heat and Dijon was in hot pursuit. Some of the cows are true ladies, and as soon as they hit the edge of the mud, they refused to go any further. We would shake and shake the bucket of alfalfa—and in the end their stomach would overrule their femininity. Once Mom headed out to help Moises herd in some of the milkers, and on her way back she got stuck in the mud. She was trying hard to keep her dress out of the mud, keep her balance and use both of her hands to pull her boot out of the mud. I thought for sure she was going to lose her balance and land in the mud—but she managed to remain on her own two feet. As the week passed the water shrunk more and more, and the mud began to dry out a little. One section was very smooth, and you would never know that underneath the top layer was squishy mud. My niece was over and she and some friends were running around playing. They found their way into the milking parlor and saw a good dozen or so yellow Sulphur butterflies. Makenna sure did want a butterfly and one of the little boys decided to go catch one. Three steps off the concrete found the boy retreating—without his tennis shoe. All that could be seen was the Velcro strap and part of the tongue. Getting it out was no easy feat either.
When we were not getting stuck in the mud, Pa and I were tramping through the prairie grass. The new calves are drinking their mama’s dry, and then we have had to dry off quite a few cows that are due to calve in the next few months. Therefore, we were not getting enough milk to fill orders—which made it time to start separating the calves at night. The first night went easy, but Monday night on was a different story. Pa and I went down to the other end of the property where the cows were at. It took a little bit of effort, but we finally got the calves out of the field—but we had to get them around the pond. We got them around half of the pond and to the lane that heads north. They didn’t make the left hand turn though, they continued around the pond. I stayed to make sure they didn’t do that again, and also because I didn’t have muck boots on and around the pond was flooded in the lane. Papa headed back around in the golf-cart, and herded them back to the lane. It was a success, and they ran up the lane like nice little calves. Tuesday night I made sure that I put on my new muck boots that a friend had given me (thanks J.T.)—of which I was very thankful because I think my old ones let water in. With my boots on I could help Pa get the calves around the pond and up the lane. Getting them out of the field was a challenge though. They ran round and round, and round and round. While they ran I noticed that Sunshine had just given birth to a little heifer, that Mom says we should call “Stormy”. It took a good fifteen minutes of going round and round before they finally exited the field. We managed to get them around the pond with no problem, but once they got halfway up the lane Mya jumped the hot wire and took off into a two acre field. I headed out after her, and was able to get her turned around about halfway through the field. The grass is knee deep—so it isn’t the easiest to walk through, not to mention running through while chasing a cow. I got her back in the lane with the other calves and Pa and I continued walking them up the lane. We were almost past another two acre section when Anne ran through the hotwire and took off to the trees—I chased her all over those two acres. Pa took the other five calves on up the lane and got them locked up in the panel pens. When I got Anne back to the lane, Pa was there to help herd her on up in the right direction. Anne was not ready to go the right direction though. She wanted to go south—back to her mama, but we wanted her to go north. We chased her into the lane, and she barged south, and Pa block her, and she would dart back into the west field—that I had just ran her out of. Then she darted into the east field and Pa had to chase her from one end to the other of the two acres and back. In the meantime, I fixed the hotwires, and was ready to send her north when she came back my way. We got her into the lane, and she headed north happily. Then Papa told me that I needed to sneak past her because with the gate closed on the panel pen it left an opening that the calf could squeeze through and then she would be loose into the rest of the property. I hopped over a hotwire fence on the right of Anne, and got past her just as she poked her head through the little opening. Thankfully when she saw me she backed up, which allowed me to open the gate and Pa was able to herd her in with the other calves. We headed outside at 7:00, and it was now 8:00. Papa still had all the eggs to gather, the dogs to feed, and the chickens to lock up for the night. I had receipts to make for the Jacksonville delivery—but when I came in I headed straight for the shower. My legs were so tired from tramping all over the fields. It was worth it the next day when we got over 18 gallons of milk instead of nine or ten.
Monday I spent in the garden and the greenhouse burying treasure—the kind that you put in the ground and after a few days or weeks it sprouts and after a few months you have scrumptious vegetables to eat. In the greenhouse I potted up some more cabbage, and then I planted some leeks and bunching onions. In the garden I transplanted lettuce and baby bok choy. I planted beets, carrots, and multiplying onions. Last year I made sure to harvest the bulbs of the multiplying onions so that I would not lose them during the summer. I had them drying out in the tool shed. After I gathered my packets of seeds, I headed to the tool shed to gather my onion bulbs. I was horrified as I picked up the first bunch—they were nothing more than paper. So were the next, and the next, and the next. I was grateful for each individual bulb I did find—which ended up being about two handfuls. I didn’t expect them to even fill half of the bed I had prepared for them, but to my delight I had five left over—a total of 51 bulbs in all. That is plenty—if they all sprout and multiply like they are supposed to. I had another 16 foot long bed prepared for carrots. Last year I told Mom that I was going to grow every color of carrots that there is this year—including black, of which she said she would refuse to eat, for carrots were supposed to be orange! I can blame Covid-19 for the carrot seeds being sold out from the company I wanted to buy them from—but Mom can be thankful. At Lowe’s though, I did find two packets of rainbow carrots—white, orange, yellow, red, and purple. In the past I have found packets to not contain very many seeds, so I planned to plant about five different kinds of carrots in the bed. I decided to plant the rainbow carrots first, and then when I ran out of seeds start the next flavor. To my delight, not only did the two packs of rainbow carrots fill the whole bed, I even had some left over. Yes, I did space the seeds two inches apart so that I wouldn’t have to thin them later. We were not in the house thirty minutes before the heavens opened up and the garden got watered.
I spent Wednesday writing a new garden blog called “There is Always Next Year!” It is about the struggles of planting pumpkins and the trials that we have faced. Then on Thursday when Mom was mowing she found a Surprise! in the pumpkin patch.
Friday we were scheduled to process chickens, but the family that usually helps us is on vacation. We were thankful when another family wrote and told us that they plan on raising chickens next year, and were wondering if they could come out one day when we process chickens so that they can learn how to do it. They showed up Friday to help us process 21 chickens, and although we had never met them before, it was like we had been friends for years.
Saturday afternoon is our “fun time”. For a little while we caught up on some YouTube, while I caught up on some ironing. Then Mom headed outside to work on some fall decorations for the porch. Friday afternoon we had made a scarecrow and put it up in our courtyard. We now have a joke that Mom won’t stop hanging around in the courtyard. The scarecrow has on one of Pa’s flannel shirts, one of Mom’s old blue jean jumpers, and Mom’s straw hat. When Steve came to work Saturday morning, he thought for sure that “Mrs. Tarri” was working in the courtyard. Now Mom was working on a little white picket fence, and she said that I could do whatever I wanted. YIPEE!!!!! The first thing on my list was to paint a sample patch on my bedroom wall. I am having the hardest time figuring out what color to paint it. Right now it is a light sage green, but I want it a little bit darker. We cannot find the right color, and we cannot even match the color I have if I wanted to stick with it. One color we tried was too bright, and two were too blue. The fourth color is perfect on one wall where the sun shines in, but really dark on another wall in the corner. Getting that fourth color on the wall was tricky though—I wanted to do it all by myself, yet I have never painted by myself before. I happily found a small paint tray, then I found a small roller handle—but now I needed to find a roller sponge. I searched high and low. In the garage—through all the spider webs, and in the house, but I couldn’t find any. I didn’t want to tell Mom what I was up to, because I wanted to do this myself. Finally I tried the hall closet and found a bag with only one left. I had all my tools now, but I had a major problem—I couldn’t get the roller on the handle. I pushed, and stared, and pulled, and stared, and pushed, and stared for at least 15 minutes. I was terrified of breaking the thing, and I finally had to admit defeat and I headed outside to find Mom. I found her in the tool shed and I told her I had a problem. She asked me what I had broken—and I told her nothing. She asked me what I had done—and I told her nothing. She asked me what mess I had made—and I told her none, for I was too dumb. I couldn’t break anything, do anything wrong, or make a mess—because I was too dumb to even begin. I then held up the roller and the handle and told her that I could not figure out how to marry the two of them. I then handed them over to Mom and with a nice big push she joined them into one. UGH!!!!!!!!! I told her what I was up to, and she came over to help me. I wanted a nice size section painted—like a 2 ft. by 2 ft. square. Little circles only help when you know the color is wrong, but not when you think you really like it but are not sure. I am still not sure, and I think that the next step is to mix Mom’s favorite paint (the one that is too light and bright for me), with my favorite paint (the one that is too dark for Mom) and see if they don’t make a perfect color. Once my painting adventure was over, I loaded up the dishwasher, practiced my piano a little and then I grabbed a book and headed outside. I grabbed the rocking chair out of the garage and carried it around to the porch and curled up to enjoy the beautiful fall weather that was blowing in from the north. I might not have grabbed the most “nostalgic” book to read on the first day that felt like fall, but Joel Salatin’s book “Folk’s this ain’t normal” is the book I have been reading for the last year. I am sure that one of Tasha Tudor’s books or one of my fall cookbooks would have been more appropriate. I have to say that a cookbook that tells stories is one of my favorite things to read. Come 6:15 I made myself head back inside and cook dinner. I love fall—and want to spend all my time outside enjoying it.
Being outside enjoying the fall weather is exactly what is on the agenda for this week. There are many plants in the greenhouse that are ready to be planted out in the garden—and those beds need to be weeded and composted first.
HAPPY FALL YA’LL!
Serving you with Gladness,
Tiare