Bloom

Two hundred fluffy chicks make a lot of noise. They are also fun to watch. They run around with their hidden agenda, stopping momentarily for a short nap every now and then, as if, a bell only they can hear, rings. It matters not where they are, be it standing on top of another chick, at a full scamper or sitting in the feeder. They stop and sleep. Then, when the nap bell rings again, they are off and running, as if late for an appointment.
The Muscovy ducklings are happy, now that the work of breaking out of their shells is done. They hide under their mom, vying for the best spot and trying their darndest not to get stepped on....by mom. Sometimes, after she has moved a little you can see some poor son or daughter tugging like crazy to free their little webbed foot that mom.s big webbed foot is on. Then the oblivious mom moves and no one even remembers there was a problem. The other mother/daughter who was setting on a clutch of eggs has decided that she wants to just be an Auntie. Mom moved into her laying box, kicked out most of the eggs and moved in with her new brood. When Tim tried to shoo them out and let the daughter set again, she just wandered off to keep her nieces and nephews warm. Apparently, motherhood was too intimidating for her, or her mother wasn't ready to be a grandmother. Whatever the reason, we have 14 Muscovy ducklings and a couple of eggs in the incubator with low expectations. Not many, if any, of her eggs were fertile. If they are and they hatch, we will try and sneak them under the "Moms" with the ten Pekin ducklings due tomorrow.

The plants continue to thrive in the dining room under the brilliant lights. In the evenings it is quite like the "night construction" lighting that blinds you as you try to drive by and stay on the road. I have taken to turning them off when I go to bed, so that the plants can rest with me. We all need rest so that we can store energy to use the next day. Sometimes we think we should just go, go, go. Stop and breathe. So you can bloom tomorrow.

The Illusion of Control

The 6 inches of snow that fell last night is already well on it's way to a new life as water. It will probably be gone by Friday night. It reminded me of why farming is such a challenging way of life. No amount of planning ahead stops late springs snowstorms or early frosts. That is why when you buy a share from a community supported agriculture farm, CSA, you are accepting the risk that those farmers live with. Hail, floods, heat, high winds, ice and snow are all possibilities on a farm. It is a very humbling reminder about what we have control over. It reminds me of a saying on a piece of art by the artist, Brian Andreas called Illusion of Control. It goes like this ,"If you hold on to the handle, she said, it's easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it's more fun if you let the wind carry you.". So when you wake up in the morning, enjoy what is here. I do have to mention that I found it very beautiful outside this morning. The lilac bushes we not so happy though, as they had so much snow on the branches they were touching the ground. Tim went out and released them with a good shaking.
The ducks have not hatched yet and we are excited to see them when they decide to arrive. I did order my first batch of broilers, 200 baby chicks. They will arrive early next week and go into the brooder. We are hoping to have them out on pasture by mid-May. I am more excited about all the piglets we are getting this spring. 10 of them. We are considering getting some breeding stock so we will be able to raise our own next year. Still to be decided.
Tim has been busy outside building new feeders for the pigs since the weather has been, as it is. But better than that he has been trying his hand at cheese making! So far he is aging a cheddar, we are eating a queso fresco and ricotta made from the by-product, whey. Lasagna tonight. Yum!

Being Part of the Whole

Almost all the snow is finally melted. The garden lays wide open. Ready. Waiting. Three days ago there were rivers between the beds. April showers. When I walked there yesterday it was still soft and wet. Daniel, our intern for the summer, and I planted 6 more flats of seeds last Thursday. Big melon seeds and the teeniest of seeds that look more like hair. They are unfolding quickly in the warm soil. I love the larger ones. You can see everything that is happening. You can almost watch them grow if you could stand there long enough. Most of the seeds we plant here are heirloom seeds. Seeds that came from all over the world. Black Krim tomatoes, Dr. Wyches yellow tomatoes, Copenhagen cabbage, Black Turtle beans, Oxheart carrots and Granda Ott's morning glory.

Since the snow is gone from the path on the perimeter of our farm, Tim and I were able to walk with the dog this morning. It was very squishy, and we wore our wellies but we made it all the way around. I happened to notice that while I walked, I was concerned about my footing perhaps and mostly, I looked at the ground right in front of me. I walked this way for a few minutes when Tim pointed out a huge ant hill. I observed the large lump covered in dried grasses and moved on, looking at the ground in front of me. A few minutes later, Tim pointed out something else. It was then I realized that I was missing so very much by only watching the foot  or so of ground in front of my feet. I forced myself to look up as I walked so I wouldn't miss anything. It was hard to do. I must always walk this way. We have 40 beautiful acres, with pastures, a pond, meadows, and lots of birds and other animals that I was missing on my "walk". So I was very mindful to keep my head up and my eyes looking ahead. To the horizon, the future, forward. I am now wondering how often do I keep my head on what is happening right this moment or the next but in doing so, miss the world around me? Not looking at the big picture. Today I will be more mindful to keep my head up and my eyes searching for the whole, recognizing that here and now is just a part.Taking a cue from my husband, Tim who always manages to see the hawk in the sky or the bluebird on the fencepost. Because he is paying attention.

We will be ordering our piglets this week. 10 little pink Berkshire piglets will arrive in a couple weeks to live with us for the summer. Perhaps we may keep some to breed this year. Tim has obtained Naragansett turkey eggs for hatching. Those will mostly be for starting a breeding program for next year. The female ducks are sitting tightly on their eggs. They will started busting out next week sometime. Things are rolling now and I should even begin working on my dojo again. Then we can get up early, sneak out to the dojo and start the day with some yoga and a little martial arts conditioning. Spring is here. It is good to feel deeply being part of the whole.

Sitting in the sun

Sitting in the sun typing, I feel like a cat. The warmth of the sun penetrates me deeply and I feel an overwhelming connection with the universe. The sun and warm temperatures are helping the snow connect with the earth more totally as water. Filling the spaces in the earth for this purpose, the water nourishes the land. We will need it later in the summer when the sun dries up all the water topside.

            We have received our shipment of quail eggs. Tim has fired up the incubator and we will hopefully hatch out the 60 eggs. We plan on building a moving pen for them. They are the tiniest of birds. The eggs are a little bit bigger than that of a robin egg. When they hatch the minute bird is the size of a large bee.

            Our highland cattle are joyously welcoming spring with lots of running and kicking it up, a happy dance indeed. Our new calf, Ferdinand is growing and was spied munching on hay just the other day. The three young ones chase each other in the muddy field. The bull, Veto and our ½ steer, Benji, go head to head, banging quite hard.

            With the hope of spring in the air, I voted today. I encourage everyone to do the same. I feel it is not just a right but a duty. We must actively engage in our world. We only have one life. 

           The laying hens run about the barnyard searching for grass and insects. I never tire of the sight. I do, in fact, tire of seeing them hopping the fences and ripping up my flower gardens. I must remember to shut the coop door in the evening after they have hopped up on the roosts and tucked in for the night. They lay their treasures in spurts and fits. For a couple days I get about 5 or 6 warm brown eggs and then 15 of them the next morning! Tomorrow I will transfer the remaining group of young layers to the back coop to live for the summer. These are my blue/green layers. We call them Lindacaunas, after a friend who gave them to us.  They will lay Easter eggs. The most beautiful shades of blue and green to go with my warm shades of brown eggs.

          More than half of the garden is free of snow now. The mounds of compost are piled high on each bed from work done last fall. Sitting in the sun, waiting for seeds from me. Of course, there are plenty of seeds in the beds probably germinating there in the sun right now. Wildflower seeds, or weed seeds depending on your point of view. In a game we play each year, I try to grow MY seeds while the wildflowers try to grow. Time for the straw to inhibit the wildflowers from growing. Perhaps in a couple weeks I will be able to get into the garden to work.

           In the meantime, I watch for the chives to burst from the ground. The day lilies are already up a couple inches and somewhere under the snow I have some small grape hyacinth waiting. The buds on the trees are straining to remain closed. and the animals on the farm move around stretching their legs from their long winter confinement. Spring is here.