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Hi Everyone,

                I think that I could write a wordless journal this week for there is so much to see here on the farm—yesterday morning the cypress and the chestnuts burst forth with new green leaves, the California poppies are bright orange and popping open throughout the garden, in contrast the showy pink primrose is showing off its dainty pale pink flowers throughout the garden too. The asparagus is shooting for the stars and the roses are covered with hundreds of buds that will soon smother their bushes with color—and I can hardly wait! The grasses and the trees get greener every day, and new seedlings are pushing their way through the dirt daily. Alas though, some of the best stories of the week have no pictures so a thousand words will have to suffice.

                I had one goal last week—plant the spring garden! The problem though was that nothing was ready. A few of the beds were already weeded, but two beds were heavily covered in weeds. Steve had mowed down one of those beds the week before and had started to till it—but alas the tiller bit the dust. UGH! Now the only option we have for that bed is to cover it with cardboard and pile compost on top of that—but we didn’t have time or resources for that. Papa went and got us 3 yards of compost—but it was for the other beds that were ready to plant. We weeded, we set up trellis’, we marked off rows, we filled beds with compost, we broadforked, we leveled, we harvested the spinach that was starting to bolt so that we could plant cantaloupe in its place, and in the end the zucchini, acorn squash, cantaloupe, okra, pumpkins (Seminole and pie), and spaghetti squash were all planted. We ran out of time, resources and energy before we could weed enough beds to plant the butternut squash, yellow squash, and sunflowers. I was ready to throw planting by the moon out the window, because Thursday was the last above ground planting day until April 13. When I looked at last year’s calendar I realized that most of the garden wasn’t planted until the end of April then I decided that I would stick with the moon—taking three weeks to prepare the beds would be less stressful than trying to get it done in two days.

                I will say that this time change is helping us get more done in the garden—but it is making dinner so very late! We work and work thinking that it is still early, then we check the clock and it says 5:00. Oops! Then we have to clean up, separate the calves, lock up the ducks and then it is around 6:30 before I am ready to come inside and cook dinner. One day we looked at the clock in the Gravely and it said that it was 4:00, so we kept working and the next thing we knew it was 5:00. Steve went home and I headed out with Papa to separate the calves. When we were done I drove the truck up from the garden, and I noticed that the clock said 6:30. I knew that it was 5:00 when Steve left and that it had not taken us very long to separate the calves—but where had an hour and a half gone? It was then that I realized that the Gravely clock had never been moved forward! Poor Steve worked one hour and a half overtime due to a time change—or was it due to a time unchanged?

                The greenhouse is maxed to its limit—but I am not finished planting seeds! Last week I planted cosmos, zinnias, cup and saucer vine, Tithonia, two types of basil, marigolds, and brown cotton. To my delight many of those little seeds were sprouting in two days! I never did get around to planting more lettuce—because I needed to pot up cayenne and paprika so that I would have a seed tray available—and by the time I got that done, I was out of time. I still have the balsam and celosia to pot up, and I just might do them tomorrow and plant some lettuce. Thomas Jefferson said to plant a thimble full of lettuce seeds every Monday morning from February through September—so I guess tomorrow (Monday) morning will be just fine.

                There really never is a dull moment here on the farm, and boredom is a lost word, lost art, a forgotten occupation—it doesn’t exist. If you ever experience it—you can either one enjoy it, or two come on over for something to do. Life here on the farm lately is so full that we have been digging holes, filling in holes, building new structures and tearing down old, planting new plants and pulling up old ones. In order to muck out the milking parlor area an excavator had to be rented—and when Mom has time she has been using it to remove the elephant grass in the backyard and garden, clean out the heifers hay barn, and hopes to use it to remove the invasive elderberry from the garden. The biggest excitement of late though really has been the milking parlor area. A new milking parlor was built (and we had been using it in a temporary location while they tore down the old parlor, dug out the muck, put in a French drain and drainage pipes, and poured a new concrete pad. On Thursday the parlor and the concrete were joined together. It was no easy feat, but with lots of brain and brawn it was accomplished. Friday morning the last minute touches were done and we were able to start milking around 9:30—but it was 1:00 before we finished. Cows are the funniest creatures when it comes to something new. They have been being milked in the new parlor for about a month, and the old parlor had some concrete around it—but when you put a new parlor on new concrete that has three drainage grates in it, then the cows are spooked! The first cow in was the beloved Ellie Mae who comes very energetically when called, and Emma her daughter followed close behind. The bull started to come in, but as soon as he stepped on the concrete he backed off, turned around and found himself facing hotwire, so he turned back around and there was the concrete—and may I say that I was in this little space with him! I quickly found my way to the outside of the area, and we decided that it was best to let him go. Thankfully he did come in better the next day. Every cow after that had trouble coming in. If they managed to get their feet on the concrete, then they turned around just as soon as they saw the drain grate. We coaxed them with a bucket of feed—but that only worked for some. Hey—I understand the fear of the drain grate! Personally, I do not like them myself—that is the big ones that you find in parking lots where I refuse to drive over for fear that the grate will give way and my tire wheel will fall in, and I will not walk over them for fear of losing a shoe, my keys, etc. Okay, you can call me crazy if you like—but I will call the cows crazy! The grates in the parking lot are big enough to lose something in—but the grates in our concrete are only a foot square, and the slats are only half an inch wide. I couldn’t even lose my finger in one! There is no way a cow could lose a hoof in one—and they have no keys or jewelry. Since we couldn’t get the cows to come down the lane we decided to move the gate beside the milking parlor. While the cows had to walk across a big section of concrete—and a drain grate, it was better than being squeezed in between two hotwires and walking on new concrete with a drain grate. The cows came in a little better, but it still wasn’t easy. Mom only had five cows to milk—but for the first few hours she only managed to get one of her milk cows in. Penelope started to come in, got scared on the concrete and bolted out to pasture. Steve was able to bring her back into the holding area, and when Papa finished his chores he tried to get her to come in, but alas she ran through the hotwires and back out to pasture. Since she had a calf that could drink her dry we decided to just let her go. Most of my cows came in pretty easy—which was nice since I have nine cows to milk. I had one cow though that refused to come in—Miss Jenny. She is usually very eager to come in—but concrete, drains and the milking parlor we all spooky to her. Once she mastered the concrete, then she had to get past the grate. Once she was past the grate she came into the parlor—and ran right back out. We started all over again, and once again she got on the concrete, went past the grate, and entered her stall—and stopped, got bug eyed, sniffed all around and fled out. This time she headed under the hotwire, down the lane and out to pasture—BUT . . . Papa was hot on her trail. As she ran down the lane, he ran down the fence beside her. As she turned to head out to pasture Papa took a flying leap and soared over the hotwires, landed on his two feet still running after her in hopes to block her—but she got away. He followed her, but as soon as she joined the other cows she became just one of the cows and he no longer knew which cow he was after. I headed down pasture to point Jenny out to him and being that she was now in a mob he was able to walk up to her and rope her. Our cows are not halter broke! Jenny took off running, and Papa went skiing. He jerked her, and she jerked him. It was a real rodeo! Unlike Penelope, Jenny did not have a calf and I HAD to milk her to prevent her from getting mastitis. Slowly the two worked their way in the direction of the milking parlor—but it was a lot of twenty feet forward, and ten feet backward. At least twice I had to take off running for my life as I realized that I was standing in the wrong place as Jenny would take off running to get away from Papa. I offered to go get the Gravely, but Papa declined—but after a few more jerks and pulls he told me to go get the tractor. That made life a lot easier as he just hooked the rope to the tractor hitch and drove really, really slow. For the most part Jenny walked behind the tractor, but she wasn’t 100% calm. Thankfully Papa used his brain to move her the 300 feet through the pasture, but once Papa got to the concrete he had to drag her in the rest of the way using his brawn. Heave, Ho! Heave, Ho! Inch by inch, foot by foot, yard by yard and he accomplished it—and Jenny happily buried her face in the feed trough and ate her alfalfa while I milked her. The next day Jenny came in perfectly! By the way—did I say that Papa will be 70 in five weeks?

                Every day that we milk in the new parlor the cows come in easier and easier—now they have to learn to go out easier and easier. The exit goes over a drain grate—and that is SCARY! The new parlor and concrete really is very nice—and is so much cleaner!!!! Give us a few weeks and it will be 100% finished, the cows will come in and leave perfectly and all should be nice and peaceful.

                You can always count on one last cold front Easter weekend—and it looks like we shall have one this year too! I hope that it doesn’t frost, for the potatoes are nice and big and there just might be some little seedlings poking their heads out of the soil by then.

                I hope you have a great week!

Serving you with Gladness,
Tiare

While asparagus is usually bug free, we have the hardest time keeping the roaches and worms from eating our strawberries. We have teased in the past that if you are not willing to share--you won't get anything. This year we tried something different--we grew the strawberries in the air! No roaches and no worms, just nice and juicy, sweet and ripe, bright red strawberries.