“No time for words, dude.”
We had more wind and more rain and then we woke up yesterday and discovered that summer was over; we all wore socks for the first time. Otis even wore two pairs. We fretted about our lack of winter plans and got batteries in the thermometer and talked about firewood and pre-warmed our coffee mugs before adding the brew.
It was … maybe 60 degrees, and it might seem we were over reacting, but nature is on the same page. The bracken ferns in our woods have all turned brown, and I’m pretty sure I heard a flock of geese honking southward.
The vegetable predator was caught on game cam in the high tunnel, and revealed to be not the woodchuck, but a rabbit. A motion alarm was set, and after several attempts I managed to catch it in the act amongst the peppers and tomatoes and end its reign of terror – and used the body as bait in an effort to bring the poultry slayer to justice.
The chicken predator, however, remains uncaptured, unkilled, and unidentified, and so our count of surviving chickens has fluctuated endlessly for two weeks – down by 2, then they reappeared. Then down by three, but one returned, shell shocked and not right in the head. Then up by 8 – while working far from the coop I hear a faint peeping, recognized as the reassuring motherly mutters of a hen to newborn chicks, and discovered that another of our hens had stashed and sat upon a clutch of eggs.
These, we moved immediately to safety – whatever our local killer is, it is relentless and the joy of having the chicken clans milling about has been blunted by the fear of when death would next come ripping through the flock.
Foraging this week has turned toward mushrooms; the lobsters keep coming, and the shrimp of the woods have started popping as well.
In this week’s Installment of Rain News, it rained a couple of times earlier in the week, and then rained again a whole lot yesterday and we don’t even know what to think anymore about anything. It seems like it must be a good thing though, so we are not lodging any protests. Have I mentioned we find ourselves grateful for our sandy soil this moisture-laden season? We do.
A woodchuck has been taking nibbles and leaves from the high tunnel and is marked for capture or worse. An unknown beast devoured an entire pile of chicken eggs being sat upon in the woods, as well as the hen who sat upon them; a bear or fox or coyote has a plump belly and a sanguine expression, unwitnessed by us humans. The wasping continued; Kristin was stung twice, I was stung once, several wasp and hornet nests were taken down in defensive retaliation. Hopefully with the cooler temperatures, cooler heads will prevail and we can resume our truce with the stingy stripeys.
Jasper, trying to help with the fieldwork, climbed up on the tiller after it had just shut off, and burned himself on the exhaust – it seems that most of us have a story of the time we burned ourselves on a hot exhaust, and now he’s joined our club. I’d rather he had hadn’t but he did and so now he is learning about the joys of having bandages changed and keeping them clean and all the rigamarole that comes with burns, and we are learning about the joys of being the ones in charge of it all. He’s doing good though, complaining only when we do mandatory maintenance.
It was chilly this morning. I am rolling over in bed, pulling up the covers, and avoiding eye contact with thoughts about winter. But I know they’re out there now.
And, it was my birthday again this week, which seems to happen with increasing rapidity as the numbers get larger.
The brakes on this ride don’t seem to work, but the views are beautiful.
I’m into it.
It didn’t rain, and continued to not do so, until suddenly it did. It was very exciting, I must admit, watching the radar and rooting for rain … and then winning! One and a third inch, almost doubling our July total.
Before the rain crashed the drought though, we finally ran the field irrigation for the first time this year. And so of course we also had our annual well-trouble-anxiety. Pretty sure the problem isn’t urgent and can be fixed without much ado or adollars, In the meantime, it works fine for our purposes.
We had a waspy week. Kristin got stung a couple of times inside the little greenhouse, where she must water the microgreen trays and where they build nests and are generally peaceful until some angry defensive phase of their nest building kicks them into asshole little monster modes. So then I went to knock down their nests, and stumbled backwards in my non-OSHA-approved flipflops as I retreated from the ensuing buzzswarm and thusly deeply sliced into my big toe with a switchblade of a hose clamp. And then yesterday Otis, doing Otis things back behind the outhouse somehow drew the pointy ire of a solitary wasp that nailed his hand, causing it to swell up exactly like the hand of a hammer-smashed cartoon hand.
Living with nature is like that sometimes. We’ll take it.
Before the rain the weather was ridiculously beautiful, and after the rain it’s been pretty much more of the same except hotter. It’s not bad. Like winter, you adapt habits and coping mechanisms to suit the changes. It’s pleasant not paying an air conditioning electric bill.
Otis has been working on Scooby Doo style traps in his quest to capture and hold the free-ranging chicks. Jasper stayed busy doing Jasper things.
Life’s events seemed to accelerate a bit this week, with more things happening more quickly … but gradually, and after giving us time to build up our stride and keep pace without losing our breaths. The garden is hitting its stride, too, with the first of summer’s bounty coming into ripeness.
The walking spaces between the rows have narrowed in the field and in the greenhouse; where it once seemed like vast open spaces where the only concern was accidentally stepping upon a tiny seedling, we now have to turn sideways and do the midwestern “ope!” as we pass through the sprawling leaves and vines, lest we anger one of these feisty beasts and get consumed ala Little Shop of Horrors.
What else … there was a bear at the bird feeders that required swearing at, a chilly morning that demanded blankets, a hen who decided that 3 chicks were not enough so she hatched out 12 more (we had been wondering why she kicked out her babies so quickly!). The hens in general are taking advantage of the lush undergrowth and hiding eggs everywhere, making every day an easter hunt. We could keep them penned up, sort of, but we so enjoy having the goons running around everywhere.
We almost finished the deer fence this week, and have been pleasantly surprised by the difference it makes in how the field feels to be in. I’d feared that it would look like a dog kennel, or feel constraining, but it’s actually … quite nice. Somehow it makes the same patch of rows feel so neatly contained – defined in a way that strengthens and concentrates it.
The rain held off for the most part, missing us on both sides other than a few mists.
Zero Peas – none! It’s over!
Red New Potatoes – tender skins
Tomatoes & Cherry Tomatoes – SO IT BEGINS. Kristin avoided the early season blossom end rot by feeding them calcium this year, and they look just lovely. I hope you like tomatoes, because here they come, it seems … just a handful today though.
Cucumbers (slicers and picklers)
Zucchini & Summer Squash – is it just me or are they extra pretty this year? I think they might be in a row with some richer soil perhaps.
Bean Medley (Green, Dragon Tongue, Purple, & Yellow)
Sunflower Shoots – want some ideas? I found this recipe page for you.
Curly Blue Kale
Cauliflower or Broccoli – we’ve never had such a successful cauliflower early season! Thanks, spring rains!
