Posts Tagged ‘Muck Boots’
Simple Wealth and Winter Preps
September is here, folks! I can hardly believe it is just one month until my beloved October. The thought of it makes my heart swell.
This long Labor Day weekend started early with a steel gray glimmer of morning and a breeze that glided over me, soft and cool; the first gentle kiss of autumn. It was still in the 50’s when I ventured outside in my sweatshirt and muck boots, watering and feeding chickens and rabbits. There are no leaves falling yet, but the world is changing, moving ever so slightly from one season to another. You can feel it in the sunrise. You can feel it in the change from our blistering August heat wave. You see it in the evening as the sun sets farther to the south and the rising moon throws a golden cast over the farm.
We are picking tomatoes and zucchini almost daily, little shards of insurance for a small family. A pint-sized mason jar filled with fresh herbs sits on the windowsill sending a wave of fragrance through the house. My lone sunflower is beginning to bloom, tall and big and yellow; the last survivor from marauding birds and scavenging chickens, and a few apples hang on the tree growing fat and juice, until they are plucked off and put into a pie or cobbler or spice bread. Some of the older hens that were beyond being good layers and a rooster were taken to the feed store to be given away. I’ll hold on to the few good layers I have until spring then think about increasing the flock. Production is a big deal on our little farm and those who can’t pull their weight in stocking the kitchen don’t stay around to waste precious feed. Sounds harsh I know, but that’s the reality of farm life.
Winter preps are still at the forefront of my mind. I feel an urgency about getting this farm settled for a long winter, maybe even more so than in past years. The agricultural meteorologist, the one all the farmers listen to for weather forecasts, is calling for an El Nino winter; and that can mean only one thing — RAIN — and lots of it. Making sure the farm is set to handle such storms drives my actions.
The new batch of meat birds is slatted to arrive next week and now that the opossum family has been caught and relocated I am more excited than ever to get some meat in the freezer. I still have a few half chickens left. There are also packages of lamb, the ducks we raised in spring and containers of soup base and cooked down chicken carcasses that can be made into casseroles and potpies. The pantry is pretty well stocked with dry goods like beans, lentil, rice, barley and pasta; all the makings for a hearty and warm winter meal; and with Brianne off to college even the smallest amount of meat and veggies seem to go farther. Even with all this, I’ll make a stock up trip to fill in and take advantage of prices before we see increases caused by this summers’ drought.
The greenhouse now has a roof, a barrier from the wind and rain. The plan is to finish the walls this weekend. With any luck the whole thing will be done in a week or so and I can begin planting root veggies and salad greens in the fall garden. Maybe I’ll even try a few potted veggies that can stay in the greenhouse over winter. One of the nice things about living in an area where you can garden 365-days is that we do not have the pressure to “get seeds in the ground” like other areas of the country.
I still have firewood to bring in and the house to switch over from summer to winter. My list is made and it’s thrilling to cross things off. By the time wood smoke circles the farm we’ll be ready, mark my words. This will be a warm and comfy farm house, glowing and smelling of winter.
I am smiling, folks, for these are all small banks of insurance. Money may be nice, but it can’t beat a warm stew fresh from the farm. Now that’s simple wealth!
Frosty Mornings and Milk Jug Cloches
Two week out from our celebrated Spring Equinox, that day when we turn our backs on a long cold winter and look forward to the warming rays of spring, we have seen some of the coldest temps this season, along with our traditional spring norms in the 60s and 70s. Every morning when I get up I can see frost on neighboring rooftops, on lawns and on cars.
Traditionally our last frost date is March 15th and I normally try to direct sow root veggies the first weekend in March. It is also the time when I start a ton of other veggies for transplant later in the spring. With my garden just a few weeks under ground and the nightly lows in the 30s and 40s this usually stoic farm girl is quaking in her muck boots like an expectant mother. Was I too anxious to start gardening? Did I foolishly jump the gun? Perhaps. But, if I had not planted when I did I would not have had another opportunity until the first week in April; much too late to see a harvest of greens and early roots by Easter.
The seeds are in though and the only thing to do now is deal with what Mother Nature throws our way.
The remedy…crop covers; sometimes called cloches, which is French and sounds really cool.
Crop covers can be purchased or homemade. Purchased crop covers are sheets of semi-transparent clothe that can be placed over a garden bed, attached to the top of wire fencing or staked over flats of planted seedlings. It acts like a mini-greenhouse, trapping the warm sun of day and maintaining it throughout the night. A few degrees increase in temperature can mean the difference between garden survival and complete disaster.
In a pinch, even opaque containers can save your plants. However, if a hard freeze is on its way, cover plants as best you can and cross your fingers.
Scavenged or re-purposed materials like plastic sheeting or clear drop clothes can be used for larger outdoor beds. If you have a smaller garden area or a balcony or pot garden there are literally a zillion things you can use to protect your plants. Containers like clear soup tubs from take-out restaurants, deli containers, old refrigerator containers, and milk or juice jugs make great substitutes. Even glass jars that hold those massive amounts of food items from big box stores can be used, and are the most like a French cloche.
It doesn’t get any easier than washing out a container, removing the label to allow more light in and placing it upside down over your sprout. Give it a few twists into the soil to anchor it well then weigh it down with something heavy so it won’t blow over in the wind. If you’re area is prone to marauding critters, weigh it down with something heavier.
Milk cartons and juice jugs make great cloches for larger taller plants like tomatoes, cabbage and broccoli. Simply wash, remove the labels and cut off the bottom. Set it over your plant and push into the soil. The nice part about the jug system and the thing I like the most is that you can either drill a few holes in the lid or remove it all together (during the warm part of the day) so the inside doesn’t get too hot. Another benefit about the jugs is the 2-for-1 deal you get by cutting them in half across the middle, horizontally or down the middle, vertically. These work well for bushy shorter plants or lay it on its side over short rows of smaller plants.
Obviously glass containers can’t be cut in half and used in multiple ways, but they are the most like a traditional French cloche, which is a bell-shaped glass cover used to protect plants from frost, wind and rain. Plus, when stored in the off season they will last for a long time.
There are many different materials you can use, but the most important point is the container must be, at least, semi-transparent to let in the sun and its warmth. Also remember that protecting your plants is a day-by-day strategy. Covers should not be left on for days on end or the lack of sunlight (and over heating) will affect their growth.
Also remember that on warmer days, no covers are necessary. In fact, covering your plants during warm days can build up the heat inside, literally cooking your plants to death.
With a few recycled and homemade (or purchased) crop covers on hand you can protect your garden from harsh early spring weather.
Marching on little seedlings, March on!!
Charwoman, House Maid, Scullery Maid, Stock Tender, Gardener, Mom, Writer
It’s an unusual thing to wake up in this farmhouse after the sun has risen. This is not an uncomfortable event by any means, but at 6:00AM the sky is still black, the chickens still asleep and the houses around the neighborhood still void of light. But this morning was different. The alarm went off and I slept right through it. When I finally woke, a sliver of sun was gleaming below a clear blue sky, something we haven’t seen in days.
Strange mornings like this aside, my first task of the day is that of a charwoman. I step out into the cold morning in a thick pair of Vermont wool socks and slide into a pair of muck boots. The ready woodpile is not far from the door, but on a frigid morning at dawn the winter temps are shocking. I gather my wood, collected and stacked back in October, and set it on the fire grate in a box pattern; two vertical pieces topped by two horizontal. I light the fire and when it catches I add more wood. With a fire crackling like a blast furnace I can feel the chill recede from the house and I head outside to tend to a waking barn.
My job changes from charwoman to stock tender.
The hens are first on my caretaker rounds. With the flip of a latch, Sophia begins a chorus of honks that shatters the early morning quiet. She runs for freedom with a coop full of chickens trailing behind. I step inside, pull the lid off the grain barrel and fill the hanging feeder with lay pellets. As a treat, I toss a few scoops of leftover sheep feed from our earlier show season. Troughs are emptied and re-filled with fresh water. Then I turn to the rabbit, topping off his metal feeder with pellets and replacing his water bottle. When there are lambs in the barn or a batch of meat birds, the morning routine takes longer.
Lambs must be separated and fed their individual rations. Show lambs, unlike lambs raised for the table, are carefully monitored for rate of gain, weight and finish so they are in perfect condition for their run to champion. The lambs will jump and kick and frolic when let loose from their night time prison, eventually running into their individual feeding pens, knowing what waits ahead. You can’t blame the boys for knowing what they want or having the spirit to demand it.
With chickens running free, the goose occupied, lambs chomping, rabbit contented and meat birds pecking, I am down to the last task of the morning.
I grab a hose and set the nozzle to shower. I drag it from bed to bed watering winter greens and dampening the soil around the new berry patch. The bed I transplanted more than a month ago is doing well, even if their biological clock tells them to go dormant.
The brood, flock, herd, passel and beds seem strong and at ease going into winter. There’s not much activity on the poultry breeding front. All the better I think. I’d rather hatch chicks in the bright light of spring then on a blustery day in winter.
Last ditch tasks are attended to. Potted gardens are watered, salt licks replaced if need be, cats fed and watered, eggs collected, barn tided and tools hung on hooks. The farm is ready…ready to go about its business of making meat, eggs, wool, and vegetables. In a few months baby chicks will be on the way, along with lambs, ducklings, turkeys and maybe kits. The idea of a French duck cassoulet or smoked turkey sounds amazing. This whole morning thing takes about 30 minutes…20 if I hurry or Brianne helps. I return to the house and a fire that beat down the cold now makes the house feel like a thousand degrees.
My next job is housemaid and cook. I set a pot of water on the stove for tea and hot chocolate, and heat up skillets for scrambled eggs, bacon and French toast. While pots bubble and blurp, I tend to dishes and laundry; and after all that…sit down to a fresh made meal from local fields and our farm. It’s a satisfying thing to cook what you grow and grow what you want to cook.
My last job of the morning, and most enjoyable, is writer. After dishes are done I see to emails and open up a word document to capture any writing ideas that pop into my head, so they won’t be lost in the flurry that is putting words to paper. I enjoy writing about our little homestead and encouraging others to pursue this life, even in the suburbs or cities; teaching how this farming thing can work and how living with seasons and animals and crops has always made me feel more whole, awakened new pleasures and purpose in me even after all these years. They are days of blessings; a life of blessings.
That is a weekend morning for this homesteader. The chores will change with the seasons, with the animals and with the needs of the farm, not the farmer. The warmer months can easily have more jobs in a weekend than can be managed, many revolving around chicks and lambs and gardens. But, in this time, between the warm nights and longer days, I am a charwoman, house maid, scullery maid, stock tender, gardener, mom, and writer. It is work that fills my heart long before the sun rises and long after it sets; and I am glad for the places it takes me.
Rainy Saturday
I just heard on the radio it’s going to pour all weekend. Usually, this is good news; I am a big fan of rainy Saturday mornings. I get to wake up and face a wet and chilly farm then after all the animals are fed and I’m back inside my little house all is right with the world. I get to relax. I can leisurely cook the breakfast of champions (scrambled eggs with diced ham and cheese), start a fire in the living room, and curl up on the sofa with a dog and a good book or maybe watch a movie or work on my latest quilt project.
It could be a perfect morning, but not this Saturday. This weekend is a sheep show weekend. We leave Friday after Brianne gets out of school and will drive the three hours up the coast to the show grounds. We would never consider skipping a show on account of the weather. We’re not those kinds of people. Weather never gets in our way. We will unload and set up shop in our assigned pens. We’ll wash and groom four unwitting lambs who would rather be anywhere other than in a cement wash rack being doused with cold water, then sheared slick of all their warmth holding fleece. I have to admit it does take its toll, standing around in a cold damp show barn for hours on end.
But, come rain or shine it’s what we do, folks, show sheep, raise chickens, grow our own food, make our own way and deal with what ever Mother Nature throws our way. I’ll hope for the best or at least hope for a warm rain, but we’re ready for the worst; raingear, muck boots, hats and gloves. We’ll play it by ear, but personally I’m gonna take a move out of Gene Kelly’s playbook…
I’m singing in the rain
Just singing in the rain
What a glorious feelin’
I’m happy again
I’m laughing at clouds
So dark up above
The sun’s in my heart
And I’m ready for love
Let the stormy clouds chase
Everyone from the place
Come on with the rain
I’ve a smile on my face
I walk down the lane
With a happy refrain
Just singin’,
Singin’ in the rain
Think warm thoughts for us, folks, and, if you don’t mind have a hot toddy for us – we’ll need it.
photo credit: rustyfrank.com
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Aenean nonummy hendrerit mauris. Phasellus porta.