Neutral Territory

Our cat, Dale, just had 4 kittens.

STOP! Don't touch that keyboard!

I know some of you are ready to zip off a comment about spaying, unwanted animals, adoption, etc.

Let me explain the history of our barn cats.

We got our first cat in McDonough.

Atwell was a great cat--good mouser and reasonably friendly. She was visited by a smooth-talking tomcat and gave birth to two kittens.

Now, Woodchuck Acres was over-run with rodents, so the prospect of multiple outdoor cats was appealing. We found a home for one of the kittens and elected to keep the other whom we named Petrov.

And since we now had two female cats, we took Atwell to the vet and had her neutered.

Within a month she had gone walkabout never to return and Petrov got hit by a car.

We arrived in Indiana sans felines.

Skillet Farm also seemed to have it's share of pests and vermin. So we acquired two kittens, Dale and Penny.

Penny was the most energetic in chasing down small furry animals. She also was the one who disappeared forever within a month of her arrival.

The decision not to spay Dale was intentional. We like cats, we do not like mice and voles and rabbits who chomp our garden vegetables and find their way into the insulation in the garage. One cat can't keep up with three acres worth of nibblers.

We now have 5 cats. We don't expect we will have all 5 for long. You may not understand this, but cats at Skillet Farm are working animals, not pets. They live outside, are free to wander the neighborhood and sometimes meet up with unpreventable mishap.We will make future decisions about how many kittens to keep --we may give some away, we may even finally spay Dale, but whatever we decide is right for our situation.

Ok, let the comments begin!

Look Before You Type

I wrote this a few days ago:


This is hard for me to admit. But it's time to face the facts.

I am overextended,

in too deep,

over my head,

overwhelmed,

have bitten off more than I can chew.

I have never been a workaholic but even taking my sweet time with lots of breaks and entire days off,  I have somehow managed to get done what needs to be done.

At this point, what needs to be done is most assuredly not getting done.

For years I have fantasized about owning acres of farmland and building a more self-reliant lifestyle. Growing our own food, raising livestock, producing our own energy--the entire Mother Earth News schtick.

Well, we now have 3 acres. Not 300 or even 30, but 3. And it seems to be more than I can handle.

I never thought I was a superhomesteader like Jackie Clay, or a scrappy freeholder like Jenna at Cold Antler Farm. But I hoped that this chance to start over with more agriculture-friendly land would allow me to fulfill some of the farming urges I've been feeling for decades.

Now I'm wondering if too many of my personal decades have passed.

I didn't get around to finishing that post and the following day we had hard thunder storms. Somehow, not being able to even attempt to work outside shifted my point of view. It was dark and overcast outside but my skies were somehow sunnier. I'm still overwhelmed but, as Tom puts it, am on my way to just being whelmed.

If I had posted my doom and gloom thoughts, I would have heard from many of you with words of encouragement and sympathy, maybe some sharing of your own trials, and possibly even some tough love or you-think-you-have-it-tough raspberries.

I'm glad I procrastinated. So much of what is posted on the internet is kneejerk reactions; we hit "enter" before our minds have really thought about the impact of what we have typed. Safe in our cyberspace anonymity, we don't take the time to wonder if our words will hurt or irritate or escalate an argument. We put in our two cents when the rate of exchange calls for silence.

 I may still be in too deep, but the world doesn't need to be concerned; I'm happy to tread water for a bit.

And on this farm, she had a barn

I love barns.

Since I first learned "Old MacDonald", barns have symbolized ideal country life. I love the way sunlight sifts through loose boards, I love the echo of past animals and barn dances, I love the smell of hay and dust. 

I had hoped that any property we bought would come with a barn but that never happened. Big, traditional barns are expensive to maintain and are falling down faster than new pole barns can replace them. Of the 15 or so places I looked at in southern Indiana, not one had a real barn.

Lick Skillet does have a great barn,

unfortunately,  it's across the street and not ours.

We did need shelter for our proposed sheep and goat friends, so we built a 10' x 15' pole building.

Then I got thinking. What defines a barn as a barn and not a shed?

Our new building is barn red,

houses livestock,

and livestock manure,

and is home to a nest of BARN SWALLOWS!

Hay!* I've got a barn!!!!


*Pun intentional

Led Up the Garden Path

After two long days of weeding, the garden looks like it was planned this way--neat raised beds and grassy, green paths.

It wasn't.

Let's go back to the beginning.

This plot was supposed to be plowed last fall. That never happened. The grass and weeds grew up and it was finally bush-hogged, plowed and tilled mid-May, looking temporarily gorgeous but hiding lots of weed seeds and grass roots biding their time and plotting a coup.

But I had 50' x 80' of dirt--the biggest garden I have ever had-- awaiting my pleasure and I was eager to get plants and seeds settled.

I toyed with the idea of planting conventional rows. I really did. Seemed like it might be easier--crops in neat, straight rows, just till up the weeds in the paths. But I don't have a tiller and I couldn't draw a straight line to save my neck. And when I started putting in tomato plants, they begged to be tucked into beds. Who am I to deny the hopes and dreams of tomatoes? I laid out the first bed.




I know this looks like rows but, really, it's a 4' wide bed.



As long as the tomatoes were in a raised bed, I figured I'd go with the flow. I dragged a hoe up and down and the whole dang garden ended up being divided into six long beds.

Garden in beds with the bit of mulch we managed to scrounge up.

Now this was starting to look like a Cindy garden--raised beds and deep mulch.  like always, the problem of weed control in the paths arose.

At Woodchuck Acres, we lucked upon several sources of free woodchips. I can't begin to count the hours we spent shoveling this mulch into the pick-up truck and then unshoveling into the garden. It sure did look nice when it was freshly laid.

Actually, I couldn't find a picture of fresh mulch--you'll just have to take my word for it that it looked great!

Here at Skillet Farm, we don't have road crews willing to drop off wood chips and we no longer have a truck (or the energy to fill it). I pondered and puzzled what to do with the paths. Finally, indecision, being busy building a sheep barn, and hot days gave us the solution: nice, grass (well, crabgrass) paths.

I'd like to say it was conceived as a natural solution, a détente with weeds. They got the paths, I get the garden beds. I'm afraid they didn't sign the accord,  however, and continue to invade the vegetables. My hoe and I will keep up the good fight, draw demarcation lines around potatoes and zucchini.

We will not yield!

Bankruptcy Barn

Well, not quite that bad, but you know the old joke:

Q. How do you make a small fortune in the country?
A. Start with a large one.

My thinking, grounded in the economic realities of around 1958, said it can't possible cost that much to build a 10'x15' pole barn if we do it ourselves.

I stopped keeping track of actual costs after about the 5th trip to the lumber yard but all in all this small construction project took at least $850 out of our checkbook even though we applied every frugal trick we have learned in 41 years of living la dolce vita on a budget.

And then we had to fork over the money for

Ivy and Maisie (the ram should be here early July).

We've resolved to put large construction projects and animal acquisitions on hold for now. I think with the garden gone to weed, the pasture overgrown, the large pile of scrap metal in the driveway to dispose of, fire ring to rebuild, firewood to cut, grandkids coming to visit (!!!), and some musical projects of Tom's coming up, we can manage to keep busy and at the same time give the finances a chance to rebloom.

Remind me of that resolution if I start talking pigs. 

May

Her arrival is anticipated all year. We look forward to her charm, her warmth, her liveliness.

When she finally is here, we get all of what we yearned for. But like most longed for guests, we forget the less fun character traits-- the mood swings, self-centerness, messiness, general unreliability.

But that is what you can only expect from Spring.

Our spring started our slowly.

We finally got our garden plot plowed--a month later than I had hoped. Then the rains came back and we had to wait two more weeks for the ground to be tilled and finally plantable.

We did finally get most of it planted. Then something nibbled away at the corn shoots so we've temporarily set-up the electronet fence and Hilda volunteered to stand guard.




Notice the chain in her left hand? She means business!

In the meantime waiting for the garden, we did get our three rabbit does and picked up five guinea keets.

Hiding from the dreaded lawnmower monster.

And we started building a small goat barn. Or should I say, goat and sheep barn. Looking at almost two acres of grass, we decided we needed help keeping it under control. We now have two ewe lambs we'll pick up in June and a ram lamb that will be weaned and ours in July. These are Katahdin hair sheep so we don't have to worry about shearing (we also planted Katahdin potatoes, got kind of a Maine theme going here).

The barn is our first attempt at a pole building. Tom and Cindy manhandling a posthole digger was a sight to see.




Posed shot--it took both of us to work this sucker.



But we did it, got fence panels put up, and pushed this past week to finish the roof before more storms came our way.

We hope to get the sides up this week because it's almost time to get those lambs! I am beside myself at the thought of all that cuteness.

I also discovered I am truly acclimating to southern Indiana; I developed spring allergies. Sneezing and snuffling while planting and building add that extra special dimension to the homestead life. At least it's a change from complaining about my bad knees.

Pass the tissues, will ya?