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Hi Everyone,
THE RHYME OF THE SPANISH NEEDLE
WHEN the sunflowers are a-dying on the hollow and the hill,
And the golden-rod is budding, kind of waiting like until
Frosty mornings have unfolded all its regimental plumes,
There’s a little inter-regnum when the Spanish-needle blooms.
Now the nights are growing chilly and the mornings cool and calm,
And the days are sweet and sunny filled with Nature s pungent balm;
There’s a rare intoxication in those aromatic fumes
When the sunflower is a-dying and the Spanish-needle blooms.
There’s a mist upon the meadow in these dreamy autumn days,
And the world is bathed at evening in an amethystine haze;
There’s a joy in mere existence that the raptured soul consumes
When the golden-rod is budding and the Spanish-needle blooms.
Oh, the fallow fields of autumn they are full of drifting gold!
And tis there I seek for treasure like a cavalier of old;
For the jewels of her sunsets, for her casket of perfumes,
For the priceless joy of living when the Spanish-needle blooms.
By: Albert Bigelow Paine 1893
Yes, fall has truly arrived and the fields, roadsides—and our garden are in full bloom with Spanish needle and goldenrod. Every creature that goes “buzz” loves them for their flowers give plenty of delicious food for flying insects. I have to admit that they are very beautiful—if they would just stay on the roadside or the tree line. Our garden has been taken over by them and I would invite a crew of my lovely friends to come and help rescue the garden from the beautiful invaders—but when we were all done I would have no friends left for the Spanish needle seeds are needle shaped and have two prongs on them (sometimes four) that stick to almost anything. When you finish walking through a patch of Spanish needle you could literally look like a porcupine and wish to just throw your clothes in the garbage can. Maybe that could be the rule: Wear your oldest rags and come and have fun in the garden—and when you are done you can trash your clothes and change into new ones. Sounds like a rags to riches party!
Yes, fall is here and things couldn’t be busier on the farm. We finally got the barn cleaned out so that we could stack the winter’s supply of hay in it—and the weather finally dried up so that the hay man could deliver the hay. Papa spent Monday and Tuesday on the tractor unloading hay from the delivery trailer and placing it in the grass, so that the delivery man could head back to the hay farm and get another load, while Papa poked the hay with the hay poke and stacked it in the barn—three high! They brought us four loads on Monday, and two loads on Tuesday—and each load had 23 round bales of hay. That meant Papa poked 138 bales of hay twice in order to unload it and then stack it in the barn. While he stacked hay, Mom and Steve weeded in the garden—and most of it was Spanish needle. In between hay loads Papa would jump on the lawn mower and work on mowing the front lawn. During one of the “between loads” Papa helped Mom and Steve load up two steers that we were taking to the butcher. I on the other hand was inside making sure that the computer worked and my bed was still comfortable. I was still struggling with my breathing problem so I took care of things inside and took a nap.
It was a little after 7:00 Tuesday morning when I was in the milk house setting up the milking equipment. I was washing off the table when I glanced outside at the fields covered in thick fog and saw what looked like a man on horseback. Of course I thought I was seeing things—like a tree silhouette in the fog. On second look I realized that I was seeing a bonafide cowboy rounding up the neighbors cattle. When I ran back to the house to share the sight with my parents I could hear that the cowboy also had some herd dogs with him. What fun! I know that there has been many a time here on the farm when we have been trying to round up the cows that we questioned, “Where’s the cowboy’s?” We have never had the chance to round up cattle or sheep by horseback or with dogs—but I could tell some stories of rounding up cattle and sheep by golf-cart. My sister has jumped off the flying golf-cart to catch a sheep. The worse part about the golf-cart is that it cannot turn on a dime like a horse can—so the cattle and the sheep have a little advantage over us.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Sorry to interrupt this journal, but a once in a lifetime event is fixing to happen and I will not be able to finish this journal tonight . . . .
It is now Monday night and that is as far as I got on my journal last night because we ended up with a house full of company a little before 5:00. I do believe that it has been about 17 years since all five of us children have been together at the same time. We haven’t even lived in the same state most of that time. One brother was in the military and travelled the world; another brother had odd jobs and managed to travel to every state but Hawaii. The girls have mostly hopped back and forth from Florida, North Carolina and Tennessee; with one adding in Georgia and Alabama. At the moment my brother David and my sister Samantha and her husband live in the same town as we do, and it just so happened that my brother Charles is back from Alaska for two months (before he spends a year hiking the Appalachian Trail); and my sister Nichole is down from Tennessee for a few days. So everyone decided that a “Family Reunion” was in store for Sunday night at 5:00. We really enjoyed ourselves and I made sure that we got a family picture. We didn’t plan a dinner—but we did make Oatmeal Raisin Cookies together. We had the most fun teaching my 8 year old niece, Makenna how to read a recipe—and keeping my nephew Josiah from eating all the cookies and cookie dough. Makenna loves to help cook, so she eagerly put all the ingredients into the mixer. Josiah was not to be left out, so I let him dump some things in too—like the raisins. When it came time to scoop the cookies onto the cookie sheet I would let Josiah drop a cookie and then Makenna until the tray was full. Sometimes Josiah would stall to investigate just how the cookie scoop worked, and once instead of putting the dough on the cookie sheet—quicker than we could blink he proceeded to eat it off the scoop. Yes, little ones do keep you on your toes. It was hard for everyone to be patient as we waited for those cookies to cook (the children sat in front of the oven with the oven light on so that they could watch), and then we had to wait for them to cool—because the raisins will burn your tongue when right out of the oven! It was 9:00 when the last one left, and I did not argue with Mom one bit when she suggested that I help clean up the kitchen and then go to bed—instead of staying up late to finish my journal.
Now back to what I was saying about last week . . . On Tuesday I was finally feeling better and didn’t need a nap—which was good because there was okra and cayenne peppers to pick, and then I had yogurt to make and kefir to bottle. At 2:00 we had an egg packaging party and then after that I took some of the Tavernari children and their 93 year old Grandmother on a golf-cart tour of the farm. The Grandmother hadn’t been on a farm since 1948 when she still lived in Germany and Hitler made all the youth spend one year working on a farm. The farm tour ended just as my piano student arrived at 3:30. Then there was dinner and orders for the Jacksonville delivery to take care off. It was a full day for sure!
Have you ever wondered how to get your children to get up early and get their school work done quickly? How about offering them a chance to spend a few hours volunteering on a farm—it works beautifully for one Mom. Last week Brenna came back to help us milk the cows and pack the orders—and she brought her 10 year-old sister with her. Abrielle was not to sure about being near the cows for she was afraid that they would lick her—then she heard that they could splatter her with poo and then she decided that being licked wasn’t too bad after all. Both girls fixed up the alfalfa for the cows and Brenna helped me tie in the cows and let them out—she even stepped forward to clean up any manure that the cows deposited in the wrong place. When Brenna first began she had never been up close with a cow and like her younger sister preferred them to be at a distance—but after a few weeks she has really stepped up to the plate and is willing to help with anything and enjoys petting the cows while they eat. With the girls help we finished milking in record time—we were done when Penny arrived at 10:00. Usually she has time to do about thirty minutes worth of set up before we are done milking, but not that day. Brenna and Abrielle cleaned up the duck eggs for Penny and then they packed the milk orders while I helped Steve bottle milk and Mom packaged the meat. When the girls were done in the cooler, Brenna helped me with labels and Abrielle helped Mom bag the meat orders. It was 11:00 and we were done, and thirty minutes later the receipts were all done and everything was ready for Papa to leave. We were all amazed at how much faster things went with four extra hands. Many hands really do make for light work!
We did not separate the calves Wednesday night, and therefore my twelve cows only gave me three tablespoons of milk. I felt bad that I had even dirtied my milk tank. Mom’s cows gave her 8 gallons—but when we separate the calves we get around 17 to 20 gallons. When we were done milking on Thursday some ladies showed up to buy two sheep. They bought four sheep from us back in the spring—but a few weeks ago in the night the neighbor’s dogs got in and killed two and injured the other two. We had the same thing happen to us shortly after we moved here—but instead of four sheep being involved it was 21 (and all but one died). Papa caught them up two sheep and then while he delivered them to their new home Mom and Steve began mowing the grass around the milk house, green house and poultry kitchen. When Papa got home I asked if he would please help me in the garden. I had found a crate of white potatoes upstairs in our cold room that we had never gotten around to can—and they had sprouted real well. I decided to give them a try and plant them. Papa wheelbarrowed and shoveled chicken compost on the bed and then I spread it around and broadforked it in. Then I marked the rows and placed the potatoes where they need to be planted—and then I wished I had a dog who likes to dig holes. I never did count how many potato holes I dug (and Papa thankfully helped me some) but I know that we planted a 25 foot row, three across. Once the potatoes were planted then Papa helped me prepare an old molasses tub so that I could plant the top of a horseradish root. I had found some at the store to make fire cider with, plan to make horseradish sauce with the rest and then decided to plant the top so that I can hopefully have more next year. We got inside at 3:00 and I had to make yogurt—and Mom was waiting for me so that we could go grocery shopping. While I had forgotten that I had told her on Monday that sometime I would need groceries—she had not forgotten. May I say that chocolate milk was our lunch—and since we didn’t get home before 6:30 that chicken that I had out to cook for dinner was not going to get cooked that night. I had no time to put it in the oven before we left, and it would take an hour in the instant pot—and we do not like to eat too late. So we fried up a package of turkey bacon, scrambled some eggs and cooked some pancakes and called it dinner—but Papa was nowhere to be found. We knew he was out doing chores, and we expected him any minute—but we had finished eating and Papa still hadn’t arrived. Mom and I grabbed the flashlights and hopped in the truck to go find him—let’s just say that Mom’s mind was running wild. We finally found Papa locking up the turkeys—and he was glad that we had brought him a flashlight. He had problems with a renegade Murray grey beef calf. He is only a few weeks old—and he is the worst at moving to new pastures. Papa says he always comes with the herd, and then when he gets to the opening he looks at Papa and then turns around and runs lickity split back into the field. By the next morning the little calf was hungry enough to cooperate.
Friday morning my brother Charles came over and spent the day with us—he was our entertainment while we milked and then he hung out with us while we butchered chickens (he helped some too). The Tavernari’s and Brenna also came to help us process chickens—and this time Brenna was here for the entire process. She got to see it all from the beginning to the end. She watched the catching, slaughter, scalding and plucking; and then she helped with the eviscerating. Her job was removing the feet, and then she advanced to removing the oil gland from the tail. When the last chicken came through the window I coached her through the process of gutting. Then it was time to package everything. We were all done by 3:30 and everyone but our worker Steve had left for their homes. Steve only had a few minutes left to work so Mom, Steve and I grabbed a rake and raked the grass into piles that Papa had mowed into wide strips in the front yard. Then it was dinner time and evening chore time—and relaxing was definitely on the evening agenda.
On Saturday my breathing was messed up again, so we did not get to do the things that we needed to do and wanted to do. Then that evening my sister Samantha called and asked Papa to come help them because their car had broken down. While he went to town I started dinner and Mom headed out to lock up the ducks and the turkeys. An hour later she came in—but only half of the turkeys were locked up. It took her forever to find the other half. They had found a small opening in the fence and had left home to eat greener bugs on the other side of the fence—the neighbors side that is. The top of the fence has hot wire on it, so she couldn’t go over it. After dinner Papa went back out with her and he disconnected the hot wire and adjusted the fence so that they could shoo the turkeys back home.
It was a long week with lots of adventure, and a new one has already started. Did I tell you that fall is here and it is October and I heard the first Phoebe bird yesterday morning!
Serving you with Gladness,
Tiare