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Hi Everyone,

               Last week was not a normal week—and yet it was very normal. The normal part was that I milked the cows, I made yogurt and kefir, I helped package eggs, and I weeded in the garden. The not so normal part was that Mom was not there to help. A week and half ago Mom started to not feel so great, and as the days passed she got sicker and weaker and by last Sunday morning she couldn’t leave the house. Whether she reacted to some dental work, or caught a stomach bug we are not sure—but one thing we were sure about was that the goal was to keep her out of the hospital. Keeping her hydrated was the hardest, for the more she drank the more troubles she had. For three days she swore off food, and only sipped on liquids (broth, tea, and switchel). As the sickness tarried her blood pressure went up, her blood sugars went down, her heart pounded and she got weaker. Things are not as bad as they were—but she is a long ways from well. She is back to eating breakfast (eggs and toast) and dinner (a small sweet potato), and while the food has helped her strength, it still doesn’t settle well with her.

               While Mom has been out of commission, the grass continues to grow taller and taller in the yard and garden and in the fields where the heifers have been moved out of; and all building projects have come to a halt. The cows still got milked though—by me, with Papa’s help. In all the years that Mom and I have milked cows together she has only had Papa help me once because she was too dizzy to get out of bed. Thankfully all the other times when her health failed her we had a hired man or intern to help me milk. When Mom told me last Sunday that she was too sick and weak to leave the house and that Papa would have to help me milk I felt terrible for Papa. Instead of doing his morning chores while I milked, he would have to help me in the milking parlor and then go do his chores. I tried to figure out how I could manage the cows all by myself—but reality was that that was impossible. Well, maybe not 100% impossible but it would take me twice as long, and I would have poo messes everywhere which would slow me down even more. So I surrendered to help—but I stressed myself out for a few days trying to make sure that I didn’t inconvenience Papa any more than necessary. Truth be told though, I stressed out for nothing—because my Papa never complained and he was not bothered one bit with helping me in the milking parlor. His help was a great blessing—and truth be told will be greatly missed when Mom gets better and can return to her milking duties. Papa helped serve up the cows breakfast of alfalfa pellets and apple cider vinegar, he brought in cows and let out cows, he caught poo and pee—and when he missed it (which happens when cows give no warning or three cows decide they have to go all at the same time) he cleaned up the mess. He also was the “hall monitor” making sure that no cows were standing around loitering at the water tub for too long—which prevented a lot of extra poo clean up. It took a few days to get a good routine figured out, but I was pleased with how smoothly it all went—well, smoothly in my book, but probably not yours. For starters we brought Dijon, the bull, and Amy (both feeders) in to eat on Mom’s side, and I brought America and Liberty in on my side and milked them. When Dijon and Amy were done eating Papa brought in Merci and Ana (both feeders). They would be done eating about the time I was finished milking my first two cows. Then I brought in Bonnie and Emma to eat on my side, while I brought in Analee to milk on Mom’s side. Mom said that Analee had a shovel for a mouth, so you had to feed her one scoop first, get her cleaned up and hooked up and then feed her the other three scoops of alfalfa. Then we would bring in Buttercup and I would milk her alongside of Analee. When all four of those cows were done eating and milking then I would bring in Sally and Ella on my side and get them hooked up to the milking machine, and while I was doing that Papa would get the feed ready on Mom’s side. Once my two cows were hooked up, then I would run over to Mom’s side and bring in Macy and Melba. Macy was easy to bring in—but Melba is so afraid of Papa (for no reason) that she wouldn’t come in with Papa in the milking parlor. Therefore, Papa would go out in the herd where Melba was and she would then come in very quickly. Then I hooked them up to be milked while Papa watched the milk claws on my two cows to make sure they didn’t fall off. Once Mom’s cows were hooked up then I went back over to finish up my two cows. When they were finished I went back to Mom’s side and finished up her two cows. Next in line were Abby and Sundrop on my side—but I only had to milk Abby because Sundrop is a heifer in training. Once Abby was hooked up then I brought in the last two cows on Mom’s side—Blossom and Gail. I could usually get them completely milked out before Abby was done because Abby has a lot of milk. The last cows to come in on my side were Rosa and Dolly—and I could sit back and relax because Dolly is also a heifer in training and so I only had to milk Rosa.  Then we were done! It took me no more time to milk the cows by myself than it does for Mom and me to milk them together. I think that the main difference was that we usually have to clean up our cows poo messes ourselves, but with Papa helping me I could continue with the milking while he cleaned up and let cows in and out. Sometimes we were even done earlier than Mom and mine’s normal time—because I was sure to start on time every day. As the week progressed I went from milking six cows on Mom’s side to just five—I had to dry off Macy because she is due in six weeks. Then I went from milking six cows on my side to seven—because Bonnie gave birth to little “Lassie” Friday night. Mom did manage to come out and help milk a few of her cows this morning so that Papa and I could get to church in a somewhat timely manner—but it really was more than she should have been doing in her weakened state.

               For those of you who read my journal so you know when and what to plant in your garden—this paragraph is for you! As August comes to a close we Floridians begin our gardening season. I always laugh when I think that up north they are harvesting their crops and will soon be putting their gardens to bed—and we are just beginning to plant and wake our gardens up. My goal for this Friday is to plant some red potatoes that are sprouting from last May’s harvest, and some carrots and some multiplying onions—but first I have to get the gardens ready. Where I plan to plant the carrots and onions is cover cropped with field peas, so I need to get them pulled up and fed to the cows and then do whatever weeding is necessary and top dress the bed with the chestnut leaves/cow manure/chicken litter compost we made last winter. Truth be told those are the easy beds to prepare—and they are already deer proof. The potatoes will be planted in the new Market Gardens. My original plan was to plant them down one whole side of the first Market Garden Tunnel—but after spending hours in the hot sun and wearing a nasty blister on my hand from using Mom’s new weeding tool, I decided that it would be impossible to have that bed ready by Friday. Wearing blisters isn’t something I do very often—matter-of-factly this may be my worst blister ever. Papa tried to tell me to put salt on it to help dry it up. I had a sneaky suspicion that he was teasing me—but I wasn’t 100% for sure. When I asked him if he was serious his eyes twinkled and the corner of his lips began to twitch as he tried to suppress a smile. Anyway, after brainstorming with Mom we decided to plant the potatoes in the second tunnel since it was mostly dirt with very few weeds (the first tunnel had been uncovered for too many months and the grass and weeds had grown back heavily). So on Thursday I staked out the rows and walkways in the second tunnel and began broadforking the beds. The dirt is rock hard and it is an exercise feat to get the broadfork in the ground and then to actually flip the dirt. Then I had Steve mow the first tunnel with the bagger attached (so no seeds stayed behind) and then we grabbed some black silage tarps and recovered the whole tunnel area. It can stay that way until we are ready to prep it for planting—and I hope that by then we have our tiller working for it will be next year before the bed is ready if we have to broadfork the whole 16 ft. x 50 ft. tunnel. My planting date is Friday—but the rows need to be finished weeding, top dressed with some new organic compost that we have ordered to help out in the new Market Garden since the soil is mostly dirt and clay, and the walkways mulched. Then we have just until the potatoes start to sprout before the whole tunnel has to be finished—plastic on top, end walls and doors attached, and the side walls installed to keep out the deer and rabbits. By October both tunnels need to be completely done and ready to be planted because the first week in September I will be starting collards, kale, lettuce, bok choy, mustard, Swiss chard, snapdragons and other early spring flowers in seed trays in the greenhouse—and Lord willing they will be ready to transplant to the tunnel gardens come October—when it will also be time to plant some spinach. Yes, it is gardening season here in north Florida. Not only have I been prepping the beds, but I have also been mapping out what I will plant where and how many plants I will need to fill a bed. There is a lot of planning that goes into gardening.

               While Mom has been sick and I have been gardening—Papa has been making hay. It is time to plant the fall peas. Some of the fields have been grazed down by the cows and sheep—but some are too thick with grass and there is not enough time to graze them down before Papa can plant. So Papa has begun to hay the fields. He managed to get one field mowed last week while the sun shined—but it was not an easy feat. He hooked up the mower, but the belts were off the blades. He got that fixed and the hay mowed. Then he went to fluff the hay—but the fluffer had a flat tire and the part that attaches to the PTO was frozen and he couldn’t connect it to the tractor. So he had to clean it up and lubricate it—which means becoming a grease monkey. Then when he went to rake the hay into rows he found that the hydraulic hoses were broken and needed to be replaced—which meant a trip to town for new hoses. Plus the tires needed to be aired up. Then when it came time to bale the hay he had to do some major tweaking to get the machine to run smoothly. A process that should have only taken a few days took him all week to accomplish and it wasn’t until Saturday night after he got home from making the Gainesville deliveries that he finally got the hay baled—all eight rolls. Then today it got rained on because he didn’t have time to put it in the barn. Life on the farm never has a dull moment!

Serving you with Gladness,

Tiare