A Dream Come True

I spent a good part of yesterday afternoon sitting in the garden.

Forget those visions of a lovely bench in the sunshine; I was on my rump in the dirt.

We've had several warm days in a row and the garden soil is ready to turn. We shaped the garden into beds last year and mulched them over the winter. This was supposed to make them ready to plant come spring.

But come spring, we found we were over-run with wild garlic. It's everywhere.

I want to have spring peas and greens, so I've started reclaiming the raised beds. This means turning over every inch with a spade and pulling out the weeds.

 I can't do much on my bad knees so I plop myself down and scoot along on my behind, weeding as I go.

Some rabbits keep me company as I work.

It sounds tedious and in some ways it is. But I spent the winter dreaming of fresh vegetables and warm sunshine,

so this is a dream come true.

And the garden looks great, at least 16 square feet of it. That only leaves about 900 square feet to go!

[it's Just-]

With heartfelt thanks and apologies to e.e.cummings

It's Just-
spring     when the barnyard is mud-
slushy the little
gimp farmer

sings          Golly          Gee!

and chickensandsheep come
running for grass and
tidbits and it's
spring

when the farm is almost green

the funny
old farmer sings
Gol     ly     Gee!
and kittensandrabbits are binking

from sunshine and freshair and
it's 
spring
and

     the
          
          stiff-kneed

farmer      sings
Gol
ly
Gee!

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?

Spring Fever

Spring is a promise.

 A promise of eggs,



red ripe tomatoes,

apple pies,



fantastical projects, 

and warm days in the shade.

Today is a day that I have to believe that spring's promises will be kept.



Sod off!

It all started with the satellite dish. The honking big old dish in the middle of the back yard.

We didn't want this dish in the middle of the back yard so last fall we set about dismantling it.

Of course it was a crappy job--all of the bolts were rusted, the thing was bigger than the both of us, and the pole was embedded in cement.

We got the bolts undone, the dish lifted off, the wire pulled out of the ground. But no matter how we dug and pushed and grunted, we could not budge the mounting pole. So it sat and thumbed its nose at us all winter.

Then I had an epiphany. If we couldn't move the pole, we would plant something useful around it. And that's how we decided where to put our asparagus, rhubarb, and strawberries.

Now, if we had come to this conclusion earlier, we would have laid down a thick bed of mulch to kill the grass and come spring we would have only had to turn the plot.

Instead, any time the weather permitted during late winter, I took my trusty shovel and hand-turned a row or two. Finally, by spring, we had a dug bed approximately 6' x 34'.

Of course, turned sod is not ready for planting anything. Now the real work began--getting the grass and roots out, leaving loose, mostly weed-free dirt.

If there is a less labor intensive way to do this, no one has ever shared it with us. It's down on your knees, pound each clump with a trowel and shake off the dirt. Repeat until you ache even more than usual.

The grass and roots get dumped in the wilder part of the yard.

We have about half of the plot done,

not quite up to the pole that started this whole project.

It rained overnight, so we get a day off but we are on a deadline: strawberry plants and asparagus roots are on order and should arrive within the next few weeks and I have rhubarb seeds started under lights. Weather permitting, it should get finished this week.

And the pole? I'm thinking the ex-satellite dish mount would be perfect for bringing us the morning glory channel, in full technicolor.