Wild Kingdom

Here are some of the things about Summer that I hate:

We are in the period of heat and stinking high humidity.  You can hardly breathe at midday.  This morning, I was out using the trimmer before seven a.m.  I worked up a good sweat.

A giant black snake is helping himself to eggs in the chicken house.  Okay, okay... he does a service by keeping the mice and rats down to a minimum.  I suppose he is entitled to a share of the eggs in return.  However, I am sometimes startled by his unexpected presence and I have to look in each nest box before placing my hand inside!

Something has killed and eaten three ducks this week.  I'm thinking a little family of possums or raccoons.  They do us no service that I can recall.

The first kill was through hardware cloth which had been pried loose.  I repaired it and thought all was now safe.  Wrong.  The second kill was through a corner of exterior plywood which was pried loose.  I charged up the drill and drilled holes for the new long stainless steel screws.  I screwed them down with the drill into solid wood supports.  "This is a good repair," I thought.  They cannot pull this apart.

It was not pried loose.  The predator CHEWED A HOLE through the plywood in order to slither through and get the third duck.

These are some clever, determined creatures.  I'll have to place a new piece of plywood over the existing one and screw it down in short sections.  But first:

The remaining ducks will not go into the duck house tonight.  I will set a Havaheart trap with dog food inside with the door of the duck house closed and locked.  They can use their entrance hole to get in.

Will this work?  Who knows.  They'll probably manage to eat the dog food and get away.  Why do I feel like a frustrated old fool trying to outsmart a woodland creature -- or like Sylvester trying to catch Tweety Bird?

Summer Vignette

The old fellow goes out to the garage and hops on the riding mower. His wife hasn't hidden the key and it starts up. He mows odd meandering paths around the property. They reflect the meandering of his mind.

“I don't see no more grass to mow,” he tells his wife when he goes back inside.

“It looks fine,” she says kindly. She is now on her second round of child raising.

She cannot relax or take a break for more than fifteen minutes. He has tipped the three-wheeler over during a rain storm and lain in the mud for over an hour. He used to regularly run down the tractor battery when he tried to use it, or fix it, and left the key in the “on” position. Male relatives managed to convert most of the accessible farm machinery so that keys could be removed. The riding mower is the only toy he is allowed to use.

He is bored and restless, having led an active life prior to this. Now, there are regular doctor visits and short day trips his wife devises to keep him out of trouble. He is not allowed to drive the pickup anymore. The last time he did, he quickly became disoriented and luckily a relative stopped him before he left the private rural lane.

He sleeps deeply in the lounger in front of the television. The Andy Griffith Show blares on, but he doesn't seem to hear it.

I've brought over a bucket of duck eggs, which the wife likes for baking. She invites me in and we take a tour of the small home to look at her vast collection of pig figurines, knickknacks, baskets, and key chains. She's been collecting them for many years and they fill the tops of her kitchen cabinets and the spare bedroom. I express admiration and we walk back to the kitchen through the living room.

I sneak a look at the pale man in the chair. He is breathing so shallowly that I briefly wonder if he's died.

He is okay and the next day his wife stops by as she picks up her newspaper and I weed the garden in the early morning. We stand by the fence and have one of our more frequent conversations on nothing in particular and lots of small unimportant topics. We both need the diversion.

The husband has expressed concern over our llama, which he hasn't seen in several days. I explain that Zorio has been staying inside the barn during the hot, humid days. He needs a Summer haircut, but won't stand for me to shear him. The goats are going out llama-less in the meantime. However, the llama is healthy and is getting hay and feed inside during the day and can graze during the cooler nights.

She will tell her husband to assure him that there is nothing to worry about.

I muse on the mystery of declining minds and aging bodies. I think about the bond of kindness and patience in long term marriages.

June

We are beginning the transition into summer as the humidity slowly cranks up. 

There are more lightning bugs at night than I can remember from years past.  My colored lights are working to keep the deer away from the daylilies and the first blooms are appearing.  I didn't realize how much I missed their lovely blossoms.

Speaking of deer, they've dropped their fawns in protected fenced pastures and cool woodsy spots.  They give it away by running in front of my UTV as I zip along.  I guess the instinct is to divert potential danger away from the hiding places.  They evidently have no idea how little incentive I have to chase them.

The cows are also doing the reproductive thing as well.  We have three brand new calves that I know about.

I love the way that my cows smell -- milky and sweet.  The other smells of early summer include chamomile, honeysuckle, and fresh mown hay.

The hay sheds are filling up as the "hay conglomerate" gathers big round bales from area fields.

Meanwhile, all my mowers and trimmers are in working condition, allowing me to keep the lawns and grassy areas under control (for now.)

August

The sun was a red disk when I woke up this morning.  The kitchen is on the Eastern side of the house and I always look out at the sunrise as I grapple about for coffee.  What this bodes, I don't know, but it is unusual.

A slight tilt of the planet has given us the first tugs and pulls of weather change for late summer.  There are occasional days of lower humidity.  We are promised slightly cooler temperatures for the weekend. 

Plants respond immediately to the less roasting temps.  They begin to flower again.  The eggplant on the porch has six lavender blossoms promising fruit.  The pepper plants are also blossoming.  Four-O-Clocks in pots bloom in a variety of colors.  Rose of Sharon and Hydrangeas are also displaying some nice flowers.  The intense heat, however, seems to have negatively affected some plants which would normally be in bloom.  Butterfly bushes, for instance, bloomed early this year but not as spectacularly as in some years.

Meanwhile, in the veg garden, tomatoes are ripening and we've already consumed a good amount.  Peppers are large but still green.  I've processed all the peaches.  Now, apples and figs are ready to pick.  This is keeping me busy in between other tasks.

Our cows have dropped three calves in the last month.  The goat herd, which had a year off from producing young, are cavorting with a borrowed buck who has the status of rock star.  He is always followed by a small cabal of groupies, which changes as they settle.  We've agreed to keep him until October, so there will surely be births during the coldest months of winter.  It will be interesting to see if there are any November births from the last buck.  There didn't seem to be much activity when he was here, but you never know.  Sometimes they can fool you.

Cool and Gray

It barely got up into the 60s yesterday.  Today looks like it will be rainy.  It will warm up a little next week, but I'm enjoying the cooler weather.  I can get more physical work done.

Fat green walnut pods are dropping onto the ground in all the pastures.  The goats are munching some acorns and we are mowing and cutting the stupid, useless stickweed that is taking over.

I'm picking the last of the apples and lots of nice red tomatoes.

We are definitely on the last days of summer.

It's Been an Interesting Year

Yesterday afternoon, I drove through a pasture to our cabin to do some general clean-up outside and pick up a load of old wood. 

Overgrown bushes beckoned.  I was pruning a forsythia when something caught my eye.  I turned and looked at the path to the cabin and saw what I first thought was a black heifer ambling up the path.

"What the h...?" I said aloud when I realized this was not a heifer.

The big black bear looked startled to see me and turned to run into the woods.

Another first.

Whew! Ahem.

So, we had an earthquake and a hurricane all in one week.  Well done.

Actually, although the kitchen shook a bit, it wasn't a big deal.  I was listening to my Ipod with earphones while cutting up apples, and stopped momentarily when it happened.  I did make a mental note to call the FAA about the MedEvac helicopter flying too close to our house, however.

It wasn't until my mother called from New York State that I learned that it was "the" East Coast earthquake centered in a small town in the general area.  There's been a lot of talk about it since, so I thought I should mention it.

Hurricane Irene barely caused some wind and, unfortunately, very little rain.  We were at the outer edge of the path.  I'd say that New York and Vermont got much more effect than we did.

That's the big news.

The little news:  sizeable flocks of birds touch down to rest and refuel on their way to somewhere.  The daytime temperatures are now in the low eighties.  The late-planted red tomatoes are starting to ripen.  A bumper crop of figs have eluded consumption by critters, so I'm drying and freezing them.  There is a cow nursing twins -- a first for us. 

Nooks and Crannies

I heard a radio announcer refer to "late summer" and I became aware that we are nearly through the sweaty time of year.

There have been some lower humidity days, but it's up and down.  I'm waiting for weather conducive to weeding and pruning.  Rain has been elusive for us.  It's evidently soaking nearby areas, but we are either in a nook or a crannie of the Blueridge which is being overlooked by the rain fairy.  The lawn crunches when you walk over it.

If you go down the hill early enough, there is a contingent of wild turkey that walks the lower hay field.  They are pretty bold, knowing that it's off-season for hunters.  A gray crane flies to the goose pond each morning.  There is so little water that frog gigging must be a breeze.

The geese, who ate little feed during the mating and nesting season, now wait expectantly at the gate in the late afternoon.  They are fattening up for winter already.

Apples and figs are ripening quickly and I am straining to keep up with the processing.

August

Today is the day the heat and humidity is supposed to break.

We got a little rain over the weekend, which was most welcome.  Many July Bugs are lying on their backs with their legs up in the air.  Is their life cycle over for this year?  The blackberry bushes have suffered from the intense heat and lack of rain.  Most are browned with shriveled berries.

I've got two carboys of blackberry wine brewing.  There are enough berries in the freezer to prepare a third.  'Not bad, considering that there was NO blackberry wine at all last year.

I planted three cucumber seeds in July and have picked far more cucumbers than we really need.  I hope to restrain myself from trying to make cucumber wine!

Meanwhile, I'm looking forward to more rain, reduced humidity, and lower temperatures.  I've got plans for outdoor jobs that need attention.

On Picking Blackberries in July

(To be tucked away for December reading.)

Three days of low humidity and relative coolness allowed me to concentrate on picking for wine.  I was able to pick late into the mornings and since the blackberries are at the height of ripeness, I pulled in gallons which are now in ziploc bags in the freezer.  This morning, the humidity and heat are back and we are in typical July weather.

I was drenched with sweat by 8 a.m. and hadn't really accomplished all that much.  By ten thirty the animal chores were done and I'd cut down weeds and picked another gallon of berries.  I was aware of the scent of catnip as I picked around the goose pond fence.  A big old bull frog was sounding the alert:  "Watch out, that berry picking lady is at it again!  She might take a notion to gig for frogs -- so watch out!

I moved to patches up higher where bergamot abounds and its distinctive scent dominated.  There are also places where the honeysuckle is the predominate scent.  The crazy July bugs were hanging all over the brambles.  Occasionally, I picked one along with plump berries and it gave the impression of one of those trick hand buzzers, startling me and making me jump with surprise! 

The dopey July bugs are harmless and I guess after years of observing them, I'd miss them if they didn't show up to announce that the berries are ripe and ready to pick.  It's the gnats and stinging insects that are irritating.  I'm covered with insect/sunblock spray in order to survive.  Even so, I'll have to spray anti-itch stuff on insect bites by early evening.  Bugs fly in my eyes and ears.  Brambles grab at my skin.  Berry picking is not always fun, but worth it anyway.

This is prime time to pick.  Blackberries will be done by mid-August and the window of opportunity will close.

June Bug Report

Today, I picked a decent amount of blackberries for wine.  However, they are less abundant than in years previous to last year.  The drought last year pretty much decimated the crop.  I'm hoping to get at least one carboy of blackberry wine.  The heat, even early in the morning, made me feel sick.

As I picked, I had to deal with the drunken June (or July) bugs.  They are now bombing the house roof.  At times, it sounds like a steady rain.  They are definitely connected with the ripening of blackberries.  I also saw them milling around the fig tree, which has started producing.

We got an actual heavy storm yesterday.  We got wet in the evening while tucking in the goats.  No complaints there.

Guests did me a favor by picking more purple beans, chard, rhubarb, and shallots -- all of which were volunteer crops.

July

It will be hot and humid today, although we've had some low humidity days this past week.  I managed to do some outside work, like pulling weeds and checking for berries.

Wineberries are ready and I've picked a bunch.  Unfortunately, we don't have large stands of them.  The blackberries are just starting to ripen, but so far most are bitter.  If it rains some more, we may have some sweet plump ones.  I noticed that, probably due to last year's drought conditions, large stands of blackberry have disappeared or significantly shrunk.

Blooming now:  Rose of Sharon, daylilies, hosta, butterfly bush, larkspur, soapwort. and lavender.  Chard, fennel, beans, and shallots are ready to harvest.  Asparagus are done for the most part.

Biting and stinging insects are active in abundance, but not a single June bug was spotted last month -- just for the record.

Summer Solstice

The sun is up around 5 a.m. and so am I.  It stays light until around 9:30 p.m.  Today is the longest day -- meaning the day with the most light -- of the year. 

Lucky for us, the day started with thunder and light rain.  It appears it will end that way, too, although the middle of the day was overcast and dry.

Happy with rain yesterday, I quickly plugged in tomato seedlings in the plastic garden.  Two more blueberry bushes which had been sitting on the porch were also planted in the garden.  I'm thinking I'll concentrate on perennials and self-seeding plants.  Shallots and fennel are prominent in the garden.  Yesterday, I processed a big pot of purple beans.  I didn't plant a single bean.  I've already got enough frozen to last about two years. 

The apricots are ripening at a rapid rate.  I'm racing the birds and other critters to get my share.  Processing is tedious but well worth the effort.  I'm freezing the peeled and pitted fruit until the day I'll make jams.

Here is an idea of how the landscape looked after the recent rain:

Click on the image to enlarge.

The Good Life

We're easing into Summer.  We've already had a few days in the high nineties and then gotten a little rain with impressive lightning and thunder which took us back to lower temperatures and less humidity.  It seems we're in for more hot days this coming week.

This is all fine for the continuing haying.  High temps bake the grass dry and little rain doesn't really affect the process of raking and baling.

I'm in my normal Summer mode -- getting out early to do chores and whatever gardening I can manage and then retreating to the house until evening.  I got my own battery powered chainsaw, so can cut small trees to neaten up the landscape.  I cut up much dead pussywillow and wild grapevine this morning.

During the day yesterday and today, I bottled the 2010 wines which were stored in carboys in the basement.  I taste a small bit of each one before bottling so as not to waste time if the wine isn't up to par. 

Not a single wine was spoiled.  Some are very good, others just good.  Those of you who might be wondering about the yellow tomato wine:  It has a slightly tomato-y taste with lemon and ginger supporting.  It's what you'd call an "interesting" wine and one that may improve with age.  It's a lovely golden color.  'Not something you'd normally expect in a wine.  It does pack a punch, however! 

The tomato wine made me think of the potent peapod wine made by the Goods in the PBS series, "The Good Neighbors."  It was a 1975 series about what we now call Urban Homesteaders.  They lived in a middle class neighborhood and when Tom Good lost his job, they decided to become self-sufficient by raising fruit and vegetables and even acquiring chickens, a pig and a milk goat named Geraldine.  Tom managed to figure out how to generate power using the methane from animal manure.

Everything old is new again.

Migrations

Early this morning, I watched several large flocks of birds against a pale pink sky. They were traveling toward the NW. I am not sure where they are going. I noticed the first large group yesterday morning.

The pale pink sky is "bluing up" but there is a thick cloud cover. My eyes are hurting, so I think it is going to rain. None of the forecasts are calling for rain and we haven't had any in the past two weeks, despite predictions for rain over the weekend.

There should be a special forecast run by old people with arthritis and dry eye syndrome. We could keep statistics on accuracy and challenge the meteorologists on TV.

I've used up all the wine making vessels available to me for the present. There are standard wines from Concord and Merlot grapes; experimental wines, like peach and white peach champagne; and crazy wines, like yellow tomato with ginger and lemon.

I've made yellow tomato jam, hot and sweet and there are still tons of yellow pear tomatoes needing to be picked. I was going to label the jars "Toe-Jam" but then I reconsidered. The purple Cherokee are also coming on strong enough that I've been dicing and freezing them. -- Don't make me pull out the quart canning jars!

September

The goldenrod is blooming. Blue morning glory is climbing over fences and old trees. Cooler temperatures make it a little more pleasant working outdoors, although we're still flirting with 90 degrees for highs this week. The drought has done some damage to fruit trees and garden plants, although some things seem to have loved the hot dry weather: yellow pear tomatoes and the dreaded stickweed.

Each morning, I'm cutting down the stickweed that has invaded the berry and asparagus beds. I'm hoping that by not allowing it to go to seed, I'll get it under control. But the tough, firmly planted roots tell me otherwise. I may need to establish new beds elsewhere.

We're making hay this week. I'll rake later this morning and hopefully we'll make square bales.

Winemaking continues. I've now got five carboys bubbling along in the basement. All the white peaches are processed and the yellow tomatoes are next.

I peeled and sliced some of the apples I picked yesterday morning. We had "fried apples" for dinner, which were delicious.

This year's giant magnus opus hornet nest is on the end of the greenhouse. Luckily, I noticed it just before leaning the ladder on it to pick apples. Tragedy averted.

The chickens are getting all the peels and pulp plus some damaged chard and the Cherokee Purple tomatoes which are bug infested. We're still picking enough undamaged tomatoes to have nice sandwiches and salads -- storing up the Vitamin C for the coming winter.

Summer Winding Down

There was a good sized flock of canary finches at the top of the hill today. I was very happy to see them in larger numbers than in year's past.

The Jimson weed is blooming and wild turkeys have been strolling through the fields for about two weeks.

Today it was just around seventy degrees all day long, so very pleasant to sit outside in between winemaking sessions.

Purple and Gold

My kitchen is full of Concord grapes and small yellow pear tomatoes. I'm making wine. The carboy of peach wine is chugging along. Today, I started the grape wine, while some apple is fermenting nicely. I fully intend to try making yellow tomato wine, so cut up about a gallon to freeze while I finish the grape.

You can probably imagine how good the kitchen smells.

The Cherokee Purple tomatoes I grew from seed and put in the garden in June are now ripening. They are intensely purple-red and meaty inside. 'Tasty, too.

The grapes were a gift from friends. They are so ripe that I can't let them sit in the cooler too long or they'll go moldy. I hope to finish processing them tomorrow. We took over a peach pound cake as a thank you gift and sat and talked for a while after picking.

Rain has come and greened up the fields and lawns. It looks like we'll get another cutting of hay, thank goodness.

The big barn is getting all dug out and cleaned. Tomorrow promises rain and much cooler temperatures. At last.

Long Dry Spell

I hate to seem obsessed with the hot, dry weather -- but I am! It creates a tension just below the surface of my consciousness that is irritating. During the few one-time only rains that we've had these past two months I could feel that tension melt away. But as the dry days build and build, I feel the tension building as well.

In other parts of the country and the world, people are suffering from too much rain.

Ah, well, perhaps Mother Nature is displeased with some of the folly of mankind messing with oil in oceans or genetic engineering...

We picked the peach trees to thwart the crows, the groundhog, and the deer, all of which were snacking on the fruit and the leaves. I guess it's hard to find a square meal in the dry fields.

My kitchen looks like a scene from The Attack of the Killer Peaches. I've made peach jam, peach chutney, and fresh peach poundcakes. I think I should make some more small cakes and freeze them for winter. Something tells me that peach wine will substitute for the blackberry wine which will not materialize this year. Apples are next. It's a good thing I held off planting tomatoes. They are just starting to ripen. There are lots of heritage yellow pear which might even make some good, interesting wine.

The workers are almost finished extending the rooflines of our big barn. It will be great to have shelter from RAIN (when it finally comes) and snow where I park my UTV. There is nice shade for the cows when they are in that pasture and a place to put large round bales for them without worrying about it getting WET.

So, I better get down there and do the chores before the heat kicks in. The guy on the radio seems to be taking delight in forecasting temperatures "near 100 degrees" for today.

We're Done!

All right, Mother Nature, we're baked. You can turn off the oven now.

I don't know about official temperatures, but our thermometer on the kitchen door has been wearing out the 100 degree mark. Enough is enough.

Rain is forecast for the next week or so. We'll see if it materializes. In these hills and ridges, rain is a hit or miss proposition. We didn't get much the last time rain was forecast.

On the bright side, the tomatoes are developing nicely. I didn't put them in the ground until June, but think they'll be ready to pick before long.

The goats are venturing out even at midday. You'd think they'd stay in the big shady barn, but no -- they have plans as they've progressed to pastures new to them. There must be enough yummy stuff out there to give them the incentive. They don't come back to the barn until it starts getting dark.

I heard a cow in labor two mornings ago and see her with her new calf. Cows have been switched over to the pastures near the houses and barn, where much standing hay is available. They're doing a moderate job of chomping it down. My husband took the opportunity to try to mow the stickweed and dried grass in some of the resting pastures. Stickweed is a nasty plant that NOTHING eats. As far as I know, it has no use at all except to take over where it can succeed against other plants.

Peaches and pears are on the trees but we really need some rain so that they do not just dry up on the trees.

Okay, Mother Nature, you've got your orders. Now, come on and deliver.