An unwelcome word fills our weather forecast for the weekend: Blizzard.
Although I'm not ready to let go of summer, we've been preparing for cold for the past month. That dreaded B word has merely quickened our pace.
Thankfully, our 2nd cutting of hay is baled, if a bit prematurely. We have had frequent showers since wrapping it up, and lots of folks still have windrows down and wet. If we had not baled when we did, we would be turning the cows in to snoodle hay from under the incoming snow. Some of the 2nd cutting bales generated a bit of heat, but they are off the field and stacked individually with lots of space between them. With any luck, those few warm bales will ferment into much-loved "tobacco" hay, rather than mold. In any case, I'd rather have the hay baled than blackening in the field.
We have a truckload of grain—a combination of peas and barley—tucked into the bin. I prefer to feed oats, despite the fact that they lack nutritional punch, but few farmers raise them, so I am grateful to have a high-punch alternative available for ewes raising triplets and weaned lambs. I owe warm chocolate cookies to the farm boss of our neighboring Hutterite colony who helped me make it happen. A different neighbor grew the peas and delivered several truckloads to the colony for their use as hog feed. The colony held back 300 bushels of the peas for me, added 500 bushels of their own barley, mixed them, delivered them, and loaned an auger to us to elevate the load into our bin. Of course, it was a big operation for us but merely a trivial, labor-intensive, pain in the patoot by colony standards. Yes, I plan to bake today and take a loaf of my favorite zucchini bread, enhanced with chopped pecans and a tad of candied orange peel to George. The cookies will come later.
Our irrigation mainline and pivot are pumped out and drained.
Just yesterday, we worked ewes, de-worming, trimming dingleberries, and clipping wool samples from replacement ewe lambs to send to MSU's Wool Lab for analysis. Katrina had planned to help us over the weekend with those sheep chores (minus dingleberry duty, of course), but the weather forecast conjured up visions of sodden sheep, mud, cold fingers, and dangerous road conditions, spurring us to get it done ahead of the onslaught and allowing Katrina to stay put.
The garden is harvested, all but the beets that will be safe in the ground for awhile. Our garage is now full of produce. The calf sled is loaded with acorn squash; the garden cart has zucchinis and peppers; numerous boxes are loaded with tomatoes—greens on the bottom, ripes on top, with each layer separated by newspapers. Parsley is drying on a towel atop the dining table. My favorite garden delight, cherry tomatoes, fill every colander. Thousands of them remain on plants in the garden. That breaks my heart, for I love to eat them by the handful, straight off the vine, warmed by the sun, plus I don't like to waste hard-earned produce.
Thankfully, our three dogs continue to forage eagerly in the harvest aftermath, assuaging my guilt in leaving so many tomatoes unharvested. Dozer prefers the particularly sweet orange cherry tomatoes, bellying up to the sprawling plants and plucking them like grapes. His face is dyed green by pervasive tomato vine stain. Toots and Dot are a bit more hesitant to dig in. They prefer to steal already-picked produce from our buckets.
For the moment, only tomatoes are available for gleaning, and a blizzard and mid-teen temperatures will curtail even that singular fare. It should be noted, however, that our rollicking 3-pack harvested with us all summer, enjoying cucumbers and competing for fresh corn with blackbirds during the day and raccoons at night. Our yard accumulated abundant evidence of their frequent forays into the corn patch, where they broke off entire stalks and hauled them to the yard to gnaw sweet stems, peel ears, strip off kernels, and suck the bare cobs dry. I snapped a shot of our yard mess at the height of the season. Note the grotesque yellowed cucumber and tomato among the scattered bones of our corn patch.
Although I'm not ready to let go of summer, we've been preparing for cold for the past month. That dreaded B word has merely quickened our pace.
Thankfully, our 2nd cutting of hay is baled, if a bit prematurely. We have had frequent showers since wrapping it up, and lots of folks still have windrows down and wet. If we had not baled when we did, we would be turning the cows in to snoodle hay from under the incoming snow. Some of the 2nd cutting bales generated a bit of heat, but they are off the field and stacked individually with lots of space between them. With any luck, those few warm bales will ferment into much-loved "tobacco" hay, rather than mold. In any case, I'd rather have the hay baled than blackening in the field.
We have a truckload of grain—a combination of peas and barley—tucked into the bin. I prefer to feed oats, despite the fact that they lack nutritional punch, but few farmers raise them, so I am grateful to have a high-punch alternative available for ewes raising triplets and weaned lambs. I owe warm chocolate cookies to the farm boss of our neighboring Hutterite colony who helped me make it happen. A different neighbor grew the peas and delivered several truckloads to the colony for their use as hog feed. The colony held back 300 bushels of the peas for me, added 500 bushels of their own barley, mixed them, delivered them, and loaned an auger to us to elevate the load into our bin. Of course, it was a big operation for us but merely a trivial, labor-intensive, pain in the patoot by colony standards. Yes, I plan to bake today and take a loaf of my favorite zucchini bread, enhanced with chopped pecans and a tad of candied orange peel to George. The cookies will come later.
Our irrigation mainline and pivot are pumped out and drained.
Just yesterday, we worked ewes, de-worming, trimming dingleberries, and clipping wool samples from replacement ewe lambs to send to MSU's Wool Lab for analysis. Katrina had planned to help us over the weekend with those sheep chores (minus dingleberry duty, of course), but the weather forecast conjured up visions of sodden sheep, mud, cold fingers, and dangerous road conditions, spurring us to get it done ahead of the onslaught and allowing Katrina to stay put.
The garden is harvested, all but the beets that will be safe in the ground for awhile. Our garage is now full of produce. The calf sled is loaded with acorn squash; the garden cart has zucchinis and peppers; numerous boxes are loaded with tomatoes—greens on the bottom, ripes on top, with each layer separated by newspapers. Parsley is drying on a towel atop the dining table. My favorite garden delight, cherry tomatoes, fill every colander. Thousands of them remain on plants in the garden. That breaks my heart, for I love to eat them by the handful, straight off the vine, warmed by the sun, plus I don't like to waste hard-earned produce.
Thankfully, our three dogs continue to forage eagerly in the harvest aftermath, assuaging my guilt in leaving so many tomatoes unharvested. Dozer prefers the particularly sweet orange cherry tomatoes, bellying up to the sprawling plants and plucking them like grapes. His face is dyed green by pervasive tomato vine stain. Toots and Dot are a bit more hesitant to dig in. They prefer to steal already-picked produce from our buckets.
For the moment, only tomatoes are available for gleaning, and a blizzard and mid-teen temperatures will curtail even that singular fare. It should be noted, however, that our rollicking 3-pack harvested with us all summer, enjoying cucumbers and competing for fresh corn with blackbirds during the day and raccoons at night. Our yard accumulated abundant evidence of their frequent forays into the corn patch, where they broke off entire stalks and hauled them to the yard to gnaw sweet stems, peel ears, strip off kernels, and suck the bare cobs dry. I snapped a shot of our yard mess at the height of the season. Note the grotesque yellowed cucumber and tomato among the scattered bones of our corn patch.
 And so we await the first blizzard of the season. |  |
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