The Circle of Life

Spring is supposed to be a time of rebirth, of life, of green and happy freaking maypoles, right?  We enjoy each new iris pushing out of the ground, savor each new bud on the dogwoods, thrill each time we discover a new bird nest.  Heck, we spent one bedtime laughing at the sound of a couple of foxes going at it on Tuesday night...as in fox love.

Life.  Yeah.  But you cannot have life without the inevitable ending.

Last week, I learned to hate foxes.  Never mind that every time it got quiet that evening, every time I began digging into my book again, they'd start giggling like a bunch of hyenas and start it over again.  (I mean, really?  Just finish already!)  And never mind that I giggled too.

No, I learned to hate them the next day.  A day which shall be called Bloody Wednesday.  A day I lost not one, not two, not three, but FOUR chickens.  We lost Acid, Mocha, Ginger, and poor Pickles.

Princess Leia and Peaches-n-Cream are all that remain.  I've let them out twice since; and both times, they were heavily supervised.  As in, locked in the big garden with me as I continued preparing the beds for planting.

There is a fierce debate going...

Sensible:  You need to get more chickens.

Dramatic: Why, so they can just feed the foxes? 

Sensible:  You have this huge coop with more room than many chickens ever see.

Dramatic:  But they don't need to be locked up all the time!  They'll be miserable.

Sensible:  Then put up a fence, so they have a yard that will protect them from the foxes and hawks.

Dramatic:  But then they are not free range.  One of the reasons I wanted free range was because they keep the bug populations down!

Sensible:  Then you have to accept that the foxes will eat some.  Get lots more chickens.  Maybe a rooster.

Dramatic:  I cannot take any more death!  How do farmers do this?

Sensible:  They have more chickens than you do, and they don't name them.

Dramatic:  Well, how will I tell them apart?

Sensible:  Don't.  Don't tell them apart, and just enjoy your eggs.

And so on.  I am trapped by the debate, and so have done nothing.  Leia and Peaches spend their day in their huge, rambling, empty chicken coop, eating and scratching and laying, and I get two eggs a day.

We had to buy our first eggs in months this weekend.

But this wasn't all.  No, there is more.  I could hardly bear it.

On Saturday, the Husband was coming out at 11:30 on the dot to help me get the chickens back in the coop.  The girls enjoyed the foray into my garden, eating grubs and seeds...and the earthworms.  But, I needed help getting them in.  The Husband's alarm sounded, and he came out.  Amy had spent all morning with me, so she didn't bother, but Katt wandered out after him.  We got the girls in, I dumped another load of weeds down a groundhog hole, and then we ate lunch and went to our afternoon event.

On our way home that evening, we realized that Katt had not come in, and that, in fact, we hadn't even seen her when we came back from the garden.  And she usually never stays out of sight of her humans, or at least the dog.

We got home, and Katt was not waiting.  In fact, there was no evidence of her.  Anywhere.  We all spent the next few hours until sundown, wandering the fields, calling her name.  She didn't appear.

If the fox had appeared at that moment, I would have beaten it to a bloody pulp with a stick.

Katt didn't show before we went upstairs.  And she wasn't waiting for us in the morning.  And she never showed up at all, and I had to write a painful email to Country Kitty, letting her know that Katt was gone.

In my heart, I was already grieving her.  I couldn't stand looking into the sunroom, because that is her room.  The Boy was disconsolate, and I had trouble even smiling.  Even Amy seemed unhappy.  The Husband slept poorly last night, and I had to hold back tears as I cooked the Boy's breakfast:  there was no annoying Katt underfoot.  And things were pretty subdued.

And here is where the entry was supposed to end.

But, after I had let Amy out and the Boy was halfway though his eggs, there suddenly came the shout:  "Mommy!  I see Katt!"

I see Katt.  What did that mean?  I put down the pitcher of water and went to the door, terrified of what I would see.

Katt came mincing in, her tail up, her gait stronger than I had seen in months.  She meowed, and our tears began.  She was back, and she was strong, and she DEMANDED her breakfast.  The Boy and I crowded around her, unable to credit this strong and happy kitty, and even Amy joined us, sniffing madly.

That dumb Katt.  

I still hate the fox.

How Do I Pick?

I've had a lawn before.  And I had a 20x20 garden plot for a few years.  I know about outdoor work, and what needs to be done.

That is the case here on the farm.  I know about outdoor work, and I know what needs to be done.  The issue before me is, how do I prioritize the tasks?  If I mow the garden paths in the big garden...then I don't have time to spend prepping the beds.  If I haul more wood to the burn pile, we could get another evening burn in before the burn ban...but that is time I could spend weeding the flower garden.  I could dig dandelions all day...but I would hardly make a dent, so I have to set an timer to make me stop.  And I don't even have to worry about mowing the fields, because the Husband does that.

Something I tell my acting students is, "If everything is important, then nothing is important."  And I am trying to think in that way here.  If I try to do everything, then nothing will get done... including showering, meals, my writing, and looking through all the lovely pictures I've taken of spring on the farm and still haven't shared.

So, my choice today is to quickly summarize the amazing share-worthy stories and pick some awesome photos.


Top Ten Stories
1. We've had two bonfires in two weeks.  I'm getting good at building the proper structure.

2. We lost Vader to a fox three days after Elastigirl, but gained a lovely girl named Pickles.  She's an escape artist, so she will be uniquely suited to a free-range environment.

3. The kitchen garden is doing beautifully!  Lettuce, kale, beets, peas, and Swiss chard are doing well, and I don't know what the onions and carrots are doing.

4. Turtlezilla has been sighted.  A lovely duck and her mate lost all the eggs she was guarding on the raft.  Sad.
5. While the Husband and I were hauling wood for the last pile, a frog suddenly appeared on his glasses...and just sat there.

6. The entire path around the farm got mowed, because the swamp finally dried out enough to the take the tractor down there.  Now we have 4 inches of rain expected this week.  Boo!

7. We dug out the fire pit...which had been looking more like a fire mound, and hauled all the muddy-ash mixture down Clarence's holes.  Take that, groundhogs!  I also dumped all the weeds I pulled while prepping a bed in the big garden down another of his holes...  Probably just a snack for him, but it felt good doing it.

8. Katt had another decline.  I took her to the vet, and apparently our dear kitty has a pretty bad heart murmur AND high blood pressure.  I have my freaking cat on aspirin, and blood pressure medication.

9. Amy has gained about six pounds since her last vet visit.  She's more active, she cannot get to Katt's food anymore... so she is now banned from the mudroom at all times so we can prevent her from eating cat poo.  The vet said that is pretty high fat content.  I think it is pretty gross.


10. I finally had a big party here.  It was fun, and I have learned that I must never walk around with a wine glass again.  Somehow, it kept filling itself... But, to have so many wonderful friends, both new and old, made for a wonderful evening.

And that is all the news.  Now... to run off and weed before the rain starts.

Gardening With Help

Flowers are blooming, and the kitchen garden has been planted. Mostly. I mean, the main beds have been planted. And two side beds have been weeded. I still need to do the cold frame beds, which are currently protecting a glorious tangle of weeds.

But the point is, I have seeds planted and hopefully beginning to do their thing.  A lettuce mix, kale, Swiss chard, sweet pea, onion, carrot and beet.  I am getting hungry already.

I had a lot of help, truth be told.  Gardening really becomes a group project on a farm, I am discovering.  So, thanks are in order.

First, I am thankful the Husband helped clear the side beds of a strange weed that has roots that are thick and orange like carrots...but are not carrots. But Country Kitty's rose is able to breathe again, as are the lilies or irises or whatever else is planted in the bed alongside.  Also, the beds are ready for me to plant something there.  Not sure what, but I am thinking marigolds.  Lots and lots of marigolds.

Next, Amy also helped...sorta.  She kept me company, and showed me where every smell was in the enclosed garden by rolling in it.  Dogs are so freaking nasty sometimes.  I wound up banning her from the garden enclosure after she walked across a freshly prepared bed--she weighs 70 lbs, and I don't need my soil compacted, ya know?  So, she diligently patrolled the area to make sure that no evil squirrels could sneak up and kill me.  I feel safer knowing she's there to chase off those naughty wee beasties.

The most unexpected help came from the chickens.  They were mighty interested when I was preparing the beds, turning over soil with lots of bugs and interesting plants.  But they got serious in their interest when I began harvesting the composted soil.   

So much supervision!  After I added it to the beds and began preparing to plant the seeds, they were all micromanaging the choices.  And when I accidentally spilled the lettuce seed, two girls were immediately fighting over the spoils.  I admit to having a stern discussion with Ginger and ElastaGirl about whether or not this was a good choice...before I chased them out of the garden.

On Saturday, I planted the second phase of seeds, which were to be in the

second bed.  I had hardly opened the gate and brought in my tools and seeds before I had ALL SEVEN GIRLS in there, busily scratching and finding tasty things to eat.  Ever try to chase a chicken when you are trying avoid stepping across a garden bed?  I swear I could hear them cackling at me.

Which led to the best help that I got the entire time.  The Husband very sweetly came into the garden and helped me catch each chicken so I could toss them over the fence.  

And he didn't even laugh at me.  Much.

In other news, guess who's back?

...to be continued.

Mud

I could bore you to tears with how bad my allergies got last week, how I contemplated on whether or not I might be turning into a zombie, and how that turned into a discussion about whether I might be more interested (as a zombie) in wine or just the sommelier.

No, I won't tell you about the combination of medications I've been taking, or the fact that I lost two days pretending to be a slug.  Or, how I got to attend a birthday party wearing a mask over my nose and mouth.

No, I will direct this entry to what is foremost on my mind.  Mud.  Because, April showers bring May flowers.

I feel virtuous.  I spent an hour today clearing two garden beds for seeds.  I'll be planting beets and carrots and lettuce and kale, swiss chard and onions and peas.  Tomorrow, I'll add a barrow of lovely compost to mix it all up, and then press seeds into the soil in a semi-organized fashion.  But today, I cleared the beds of all remaining vegetation, I turned all the soil thoroughly, and I picked out the usual spring harvest of rocks.  Amy wandered around, keeping me company.  Even Elasta-girl came by, scratching where I cleared.  I hope she found lots of naughty bugs to eat.  

But, I did all this in the rain.  And it was raining most of the night.  Two words:  fashion nightmare.  From my head to the soles of my boots.

I wore my pretty red raincoat with a ball cap to keep the rain from my eyes.  There is mud all over the hood, and a bit on the brim of the cap.

My raincoat itself looks as though I lay down and wallowed in the mud.  I am not certain how that happened, since I was always on two feet.  But there is mud on the shoulders, up and down the arms, all along the sides, and smears all over the front.  The bum is still red.

My pants, of which only the knee to mid thigh were exposed, had mud on the knees, behind the knees, and a smear about where the coat ended.

The muckers... Well, they are no longer a nice dark chocolate.  They now look like lumpy milk chocolate.

And the lined leather gloves have fat fingers now.  Fat with encrusted mud.

What's that you say?  Pics or it didn't happen?

It happened.  But there will be no pics.  I wouldn't want word to get out about how bad my hair looked.

Goldfish, Peonies, and Tadpoles

I am gonna pretend that Sunday was just a blip.  Spring is here, and fighting off Winter with all Her might.  She might be a little muddy now, Her dress might be torn, Her shoes, totally ruined.  But She did a smack down on Winter; because I spent this afternoon, and Friday afternoon without a coat, outside, watching Her shake out Her hair and wonder where Her hat is.

Okay, that was muddled, and there is a reason for that.  We are in the season for mud.  I am so glad I had all autumn and winter to come to embrace my muckers.  I wear them everywhere.  I keep a pair of "city" shoes in the car.

Anyway.  Oh, to be outside, in the sun!  What a joy!  The Boy and I took advantage of the dead and still-wintered weeds and vines surrounding the pond and followed the usually inaccessible deer paths... and it was worth it.  We saw the pond from the other side.  It was a fantastic view!

We observed no fewer than four schools of goldfish in the pond.  We came upon some really odd scat (that has defied my Internet skills to identify), and several animal holes along the deer paths.  We also took souvenirs:  I gathered several wild-blackberry thorns, and the Boy got his first tick of the season.

But it was worth it.  Observing the duck and his mate.  Figuring out that the goldfish were busily devouring floating eggs on the surface.  Coming across the slightly worse-for-wear snowdrops, and the fledgling crocuses.  And only last week, I took a moonlit stroll through the field and disturbed several splashy swimming things at the pond.  I couldn't see them, but I suspect that it might be otters!  There is no scientific basis whatsoever other than a whim.

Today (because I am ignoring Sunday, which was Winter's dying gasp), it was a school holiday, so the Boy and I spent the afternoon outside.  I did some long overdue clearing of the garden, and also used the net to clear out the pond...

You catch tadpoles that way.  Lots and lots of tadpoles.  I picked them up with my bare hand and dropped them back in the pond.

Did you read that?

I PICKED THEM UP WITH MY BARE HAND AND DROPPED THEM BACK IN THE POND!

After I did that the first time, I wondered who the hell I was today!  City Kitty doesn't go outside to pick up a fallen branch without gloves on.

Hydrangea buds; Dead heads

And yet, I continued gardening without gloves.  I clipped the hydrangea heads from last year, carefully clipping ABOVE all the buds coming out already.  There were even leaves.  I am ashamed.  And then I used a small rake to clear out the leaf piles...and found that the peonies are unfurling their stems already.

New and old peonies

I LOVE PEONIES!!

And while I was doing all this, the Boy decided that he was tired of waiting on me to do the research on raising tadpoles.  He found a small tub, added water from the pond, placed a few rocks, and caught his tadpole.

I finally did the research.  We'll be raising a tadpole starting on Wednesday, I think.  First I have to boil lettuce.  It's a thing they like.  Apparently.

Can you tell that I needed a little bit of Spring?  I feel like I am buzzing on Spring.  I see green covering the lawns and, where there is NOT a mud wallow, pretty green spikes of bulbs pushing out of the soil.  

I feel like one of those bulbs, finally warming up, reaching for the sun, about to bloom...  Yep.  I am high on sun, the best drug of all.