Who Are You Looking At?

When we lived in Texas, there was a nearby neighbor who was an elderly woman. She had a son living with her who was definitely more than 35 and had some sort of drinking problem. At bad moments, he cursed her and slammed out of the house. One day, another of her children approached us to let us know there was a restraining order and would we mind keeping an eye out for him. Then, maybe a month later, he obviously moved back in with his mother.

The day he moved back in I was standing in the front yard. Phaedra was toddling around and screaming delightedly at Ezra who was dashing around on a tricycle. I watched the neighbor for awhile to see if this was a problem that warranted me calling the woman's other children. As I pondered whether to call, I realized that alcoholic man headed into middle age, used be that woman's four-year-old, tearing around on a tricycle.

I looked at my children and wondered what power I had to select their futures for them.

Also, I've recently noted how many happy, successful adults I know who were problem children. I mean the sort of trouble that probably kept their parents up staring at the walls, wondering if the police would call. I think of the wildly colorful paths some have taken to get pretty much the same place I'm at. I hear the stories, and I can see their high school teachers shaking their heads together wondering just what will become of that one.

This awareness makes me less judgmental of other parenting styles. When Ezra was born, I thought I had the exact formula to raise just the right sort of person. It did not take long before I knew I could not actually stick to that formula, because it seemed to ignore the real life version of me as a mother and my real life child. I felt guilty, and then I felt like I just had to do my best. I thought I might need to make a therapy fund instead of a college fund.

Now, I just don't know. I cannot imagine what will make these little people happy when they reach adulthood. I cannot imagine whether they'll be easy or hard as teenagers, although I do make the occasional prediction.

Ezra once said he planned on being a vagabond when he grew up, and I thought how that could be a pretty good life for at least a little while. And I have been letting go ever since, letting go of any sort of expectations regarding the right life or the straight and narrow path to happiness.

Skunk!

One evening maybe two months ago, Jason and I saw a skunk crossing the pasture. It was just about dark, and we might not have seen him if not for that glowing white stripe. Still, it was no big deal because he acted the way skunks are supposed to; he ambled the other way. And we acted like we were supposed to- we locked up the chickens and skedaddled!

We have seen him a couple more times- usually first thing in the morning, right before the sun is up. He has not caused any trouble, and I kind of like skunks. Yes, yes, of course, they can stink, but if you leave them alone, they just go about their business. They're not like raccoons or any weasel cousins. They will kill a chicken, but they mostly don't kill grown ones.. They will steal eggs, but they don't climb for them. I think they can dig in the garden, but I haven't seen any evidence of it. And, if you keep bees, they'll stand right by the little bee door and eat the bees just as fast as the bees will fly out.

Mostly, our skunk seems to keep house for us by cleaning up spilled chicken food or if the children have left something like melon rind in the yard it will disappear by morning. He has been a pretty good neighbor, and we have given him wide berth.

Until tonight...

My friend and I were enjoying a bit of knitting and a brownie. Jason was gone (as always seems to happen when a skunk causes trouble). It had gotten dark and she was saying she should start home soon because she cycled here. Suddenly, the room was awash in that special skunk smell that isn't exactly bad- it's just too strong and too pungent and too everything. Nico was at my feet, so I knew Elmer had once again been skunked.

Now, he's locked in the garage. I'll deal with him in the morning and we'll be a bit more careful about letting him out in the evening. I am thinking hopefully that the smell that wafted in the windows will dissipate before I turn in for the night. Oh! to be so lucky!

A Long Weekend

Jason had a three day weekend and we got lots of small stuff done. In fact, it was such small stuff that it kind of looks like nothing.

Jason dismantled the cool box gifted to us by a friend. It was made of some oak and insulation, and we hope to reuse the materials on a smaller box to fit our space. The current idea is to take the defunct freezer out, build some shelves and insulate the middle ones to act as a cool box. We just have to figure out how to deal with the condensation and then build it. No big deal...

Jason and I cleaned out the barn some more. It really had been pretty thoroughly cleaned out last summer when we were getting the previous owners' stuff out. However, there are still some jars of used oil and some bits and hunks of metal (WHY?) and our things that still don't have a home. I organized my beekeeping things and I think I'll add bees within the next two years. I got the door mirror out and Jason hung it in the bathroom. I listed the dresser, extra bike, and extra energy-hog freezer on Craigslist. We found the hooks to hang the bikes. We put all of our lumber together. And now- we can pick up the rest of the hay we need to make it through next April.

We figured out a way to get fence across the drive so we can work the cows carefully around the fruit trees. The grass is pretty good over there, and we need all the grass we can get. I sure hope the pasture improves quickly.

I harvested the pumpkins. It's early, but we needed them out of the way for the cow to graze. I'm not sure how well they'll store when picked this early, but we'll let them cure at least a month and then decide whether to store them whole or puree and dry them.

We killed two chickens. We actually killed two two weeks ago. Then, it was because I am sick to death of them pecking eggs. We had seven older hens, but they were pecking one or two eggs every day. Also, one of them layed an egg with a soft part that cracked if it got stepped on. I think once that one was open, the hens got the idea to open a few more. I finally caught one in the act two weeks ago, so we killed her and the one I thought was responsible for the soft-tipped egg. Since then, we have had one or two pecked eggs total and no more soft eggs. Those ladies were getting a bit aged, so they went into pot pie. The two we killed today were meat birds (read: heavier) and we fried them. Yum! Company joined us for dinner.

We had a burn pile this morning from the bits of wood we hauled out of the barn. That's always fun.

We ate dinner last night at Parker Pie. If you ever come visit, we'll at least drive out there. It must be one of the prettiest drives I know of. It is not startlingly pretty; it's all soft edges and wide views and mountains in the distance. There are long shadows and small lakes and not very many people. Usually, when we go there, we run into at least a couple of people we know, but lastnight, we did not see anyone. There were some out-of-staters complaining about the atmosphere. But the atmosphere is what makes it feel so Vermont to me. It's this pizza place attached to a convenience store. We even get our sodas at the store so that we can have the cane sugar, no dye kind. Then, there's this patched screen door and not many tables and grass and another couple of tables outside. It is, notably, fly season in Vermont. That means millions of flies and they all want in the house or building so that they can fly around your head and land on your legs. It's part of the charm. I guess they don't have flies in Massachusetts.

And that's what we did this weekend. Not bad- but not much to show for it.

How Did the "Plan" Work Out?

I started this growing season with many great theories and not much experience. For once, these theories still look pretty good after a little experience to try them out.

The sheet mulching worked well. I did have to weed some, but it did not take me hours and hours. As we begin to harvest and clear out the plants that have gone by, I can see how grass has crept in places. It's been a small matter to pull it out and plant my oat cover crop. On the other hand, our root crops did not like the sheet mulch much. There are places where the soil acted completely different from other places, and I cannot explain why. So, for now, I'll put in the cover crop and continue to sheet mulch the places that I just could not get to last year.

What I'm doing is this- The feed sacks are paper, and we get a couple of small newspapers weekly and we get a box now and then, and as these things are ready for the trash, I instead put them in the garden. I'm throwing the straw from our straw bale brooder on top of this.

One thing that was definitely a bad idea was putting the litter from the brooders straight into the garden paths. Maggots grew in that so fast and it smelled so horrible. Interestingly, just a sprinkle of compost over this bad idea made decomposition get going faster than the maggots and the problem was solved.

Another bad idea was working blood and bone meal into the bed I was planting onions in. I think we'll harvest about ten onions because the dogs really wanted to dig in that earth.

Other parts of the plan seem to be going pretty well. The lettuce bed by the front door has been weeded very well all summer, but I think I'll put a cherry tomato and Brandywine in it next year. The cherry tomatoes and Brandywines just did not get harvested from the garden the way they deserve. The perennials I planted in that bed also seem to have established themselves. On the other side of the walk, the raspberries and asparagus look great. I've gotten some Swiss chard and spinach from that one, too, but next year, I'll just fill in with flowers and leave the rest to the stars of that bed.

Planting the raspberries by the path to the front door was definitely questionable. They loll across the walk ready to catch hair, socks, and skin. I laugh at my folly for putting them there, but I might be the only one who finds it funny. I need to reconsider that part of the plan.

One of the gardens definitely did not get enough sun, even with the pine trees cut down. We'll peck away at that this winter once the leaves are off the trees. The three sisters garden got too little attention. I'm not sure what the answer is there, except that I did not like working in the tilled garden. It's very sunny in that spot and might perhaps be a good place for peppers, but I did not like all that sun and bare soil early in the season. Maybe I'll sheet mulch it once we get the beans and pumpkins out of it.

The herb bed did not get planted densely, but it has been a source of joy all summer. I'm thinking about completely filling it with sunflowers next year and just integrating the herbs into the big gardens. The sunflowers are just wonderful and I'm not sure if I could have too many. The few cutting flowers I planted also were a delight and I'll plant those again next year. The varieties I planted did well and survived despite the weeds that grew up in some of the beds.

The trees and berries have been a mixed bag. About a third of the blueberries died, and I'm told my source was the problem. A couple of trees died and four of the other berry plants died. Still, I have 9 apple tree saplings and 6 pears and 2 plums and a cherry and a dozen raspberries and some gooseberries and elderberries and high bush cranberries and currants and a maple and 2 locusts and 2 chestnuts and 2 hickories and a mulberry that lived. And that seems pretty dog gone good.

Also, I have had my doubts about planting trees in the pastures after I have heard repeatedly that I'm making a mistake. But as we come to the end of summer and the grass is drying out, I see how much healthier the grass is that's in the tree line. Right at the trees, the grass doesn't have much of a chance; there's too much shade. But, the trees I planted are scattered and the shade will not be dense. The trees will create a microclimate, helping keep the water in our sandy soil a little longer. They'll drop their leaves and improve the soil. I still think I did a good thing. Time will tell.

Fall Really Is Coming

The past few days have been quite warm, highs in the upper 80s. (Before you Texans start laughing at us, I'll point out that our highs had been in the 70s and even cooler for a couple of weeks.) This heat feels like a last hurrah. It's not that the highs won't get into the 80s again, it's just that it will be a day here or there- not 5 or 6 days in a row.

But with the sun beating down on us during the day, the nights are still cooling off completely and quickly. As soon as the shadows begin stretching back out at 3:00, the animals are active again; this is unlike the more summery days of July when they stay in a heat soaked stupor until evening is settling in. The sun is down by 8:00 and the temperature is well into the 60s by 9:00. The hot wind that's drying the clothes so quickly is also rustling through orange and yellow leaves. And in a couple more days, our highs will be back in the 60s.

It's time to gather in some apples and the pumpkins are looking ready. The beans are drying on the vine, and the butternut squashes are swelling and changing color. In a couple more weeks, we'll dig the potatoes.

One of the children asked me when mosquito season would end, and I thought of how soon frost will visit. I thought of warm soups and fires. I thought of the crisp taste of winter air. I feel friendly to summer now, but I still anticipate fall.

The Rough part and the Reality Check

So, we have this cow and we have to milk her. We knew that part, just like we knew babies did not sleep through the night. It's not until you're living it that you actually understand all the facts you've gathered.

Really, every morning we have to get up at about the same time and go milk the cow. When we want to sleep in, we go do chores and then take a nap, but we've only done that once. We get up and it's dark, and before long it will be cold. And we go milk the cow. We get up and we're tired or sick or muddle headed, and we go milk the cow. It's just what we do.

And, did you know cows poop? I mean, of course we KNEW cows pooped, but it's no small thing getting the poop out of the barn when she spends the night in there. And in winter, we'll have to move the entire day's worth of poop for two cows. That's alot of poop.

The rough part right now is that it's time to harvest and store everything. It's very late and we have to get up in a few hours, but we're waiting for the tomatoes to finish their 45 minutes of boiling water bath. You see, two different people mentioned late blight to me today, so even though I checked the tomatoes yesterday and they looked fine, I took another peek today. Twelve plants we black with fruit that was splotched. So, even though we have this draggy cold, the children and I pulled all eighty plants out of the garden and we pulled all the tomatoes that looked salvageable. And tonight, while Jason was running back and forth getting hay from friend, I put 20 quarts of tomatoes into a pan, and threw away many many tomatoes that were not actually blight free. Tomorrow, I'll see about the potatoes.

How's that cow?

Things are pretty quiet these days, and I think we're beginning to be in the "enjoy" part of our cow relationship. Of course, we're also in the "reality striking" phase as well.

In the mornings, it is quite dark and we have to rouse dear Violet to get her chained up to milk. I guess this isn't perfect, but it's actually easier than what we were doing before. It does mean we have to get all the poo out of the barn after she's chained and before I kneel to milk. I have only been reduced to tears one morning as I pondered my poop covered knees in the faint blue glow of the LED tent light we're using in the barn right now. It was the very next morning that we began taking a flashlight with us to help find ALL the poo, even if it had straw thrown over it.

Jason guesses that milking takes me about 15 minutes now. I try not to think about time, but that's contrary to my nature, so I'm glad he's kind of keeping track. One perk is that I have strong forearms now. If you milk a cow 15 minutes every morning, your arms DO change. I will still stop in amazement when I go to scratch a mosquito bite on my arm; I have a flash of, "Is that my arm?"

Clover (known as Chappy to the over 30 set in our house) is getting friendlier. This is nice because that makes us feel more confident that we can handle an emergency should one arise. On the other hand, it will make killing her more difficult. And we are beefing her in the summer or fall of 2012.

Violet understands our routine now and is much easier to handle as she finds us less inscrutable. She walks fairly placidly to her pasture in the morning and fairly trots to the barn in the evening. The pasture is already better, and she grazes happily most of the morning and the early evening. She eats all her hay in the night when she has only limited access to pasture she does not really like. It turns out that cows will mostly not eat the grass in the lanes, the pathways that we use to move them from place to another. And her lane is all that's available at night because she wants to be able to be close to her calf who is locked in a pen in the barn.

We figured out that if we do not let the calf nurse before we walk them to their new pasture in the mornings, Chappy follows along very closely. This makes the morning operation MUCH smoother. Also, Chappy is quite clear on "What we do in the evening", so she makes for the barn and her pen in the evening with an ease we never would have predicted. It's nice to have our routine supporting us.

Right now, Violet is grazing just outside the back door again, and I like glancing up to see her there. She looks hopefully at us if we walk out. Jason has been bringing soft melons and overgrown squashes from work, and Violet thinks we're especially nice if we show up with one for her. I think we're all beginning to enjoy one another.