Peach Trees

The peach trees they are loaded
The branches are bending down
Well I pick 'em all day for a dollar, Lord
As I go ramblin' round boys
As I go ramblin' round

Sometimes the fruit gets rotten
Falls down on the ground
Well there's a hungry mouth for every peach
As I go ramblin' round boys
As I go ramblin' round
---Woody Guthrie

We're mostly back online these days. Sometimes it takes a long time for the modem to connect, but I think it's the phone line, as others in the area are having the same problem.

The garden is beautiful---rain is so wonderful!---and the weeds are happy and vigorous, too. We've been mowing ragweed that's taller than me, and with a push mower!

The peaches are ripening, and quickly rotting, as peaches here tend to do. One of the trees broke yesterday, even though it was propped up---the weight of all those peaches was just too much. The Early Elberta we planted last year is loaded, too, but not quite as much as the other two, and the peaches look healthier. I think we'll probably keep it, but replace the other two older trees with one more Elberta, and a couple of plums. Organic peaches seem to be nearly impossible here!

Unplugged

On Thursday the 18th we had a horrendous thunderstorm. It was very isolated---indeed, nobody else around us seemed to take quite the hit our little holler did. I didn't get the computer unplugged in time and it got seriously zapped by lightening. My good neighbor is kindly working on bringing the poor thing back to life, and I'm re-learning about life without a computer! It's probably good for me (sigh).

So I'm at the library now, which is quiet and peaceful and air-conditioned. It's pretty nice, and I've decided I have no complaints.

In the Garden

Peaches

Blueberries

Patting Ourselves on the Back

Yesterday was one of those exhausting but rewarding days on the farm---we got so much done! Our friend JB came over and the five of us accomplished the following:

• Sheared the last three sheep. With scissors. Assessed the fellows we'll be eating this winter.
• Walked the horses the two miles to our friend's house, where they're going to spend a little time on his much lusher pasture.
• Put Delmonico, the steer in the back of the pickup and drove him over to the same pasture (one of the most terrifying things I've ever done).
• Repaired the cow stall, which was missing a wall.
• Cleaned up the barn, especially the aisle and feed room. Labeled all the feed barrels.
• Did a bit of fence repair, while marveling over how much easier life is without goats.
• Propped up all the groaning, overloaded branches on the three peach trees.
• Dug a couple of garden beds by hand.
• Wheelbarrowed four loads of manure from the barn to the garden, and spread it on the beds.
• Killed, skinned, butchered, and froze the last two Muscovy drakes. Made a pot of stock from the carcasses.
• Walked the farm sitters through the chores. Had supper together.
• And, of course, all the usual chores: Milked two cows twice for a total of seven gallons of milk. Walked the two cows to their daytime pasture, walked them home in the evening. Waited until the pig wasn't looking and sprinted up the hill with three gallons of sour milk to dump in her pan, while NOT getting zapped by the electric fence. Gave a bottle to the soon-to-be-weaned Fanny the Spoiled Rotten Lamb. Skimmed seven gallons of milk to get three or four quarts of cream, and washed the jars so we'd have a place to put the current seven gallons of milk. Poured off the latest batch of kombucha and started a new batch. Cleaned up the kitchen after the duck butchering. Cooked supper.
• Collapsed.

Today looks like it will be much the same.



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Now playing: Talking Heads - Tthis Must Be the Place (naive melody)
via FoxyTunes

Mini Vacation

The garden is nearly planted, we've almost finished shearing the sheep (we'll be done tomorrow), the goats are all sold (to a great home, too), and we're going to go on a little mini-vacation this week. Two different friends will team up to be in charge of the farm and chores, and we are going to enjoy a few days of seafood, salt water and sand. Hallelujah.

Bees

We got bees yesterday, through the bartering generosity of a neighbor (milk for honey!). I am mesmerized by the bees---I love to stand out there and watch them, and listen to their hum.

We had gotten bees last fall, but due to a number of traumas, they didn't make it through the winter. I feel much more confident about this hive.

Summer's Cauldron

Drowning here in Summer's Cauldron
Under mats of flower lava
Please don't pull me out this is how I would want to go
Breathing in the boiling butter
Fruit of sweating golden Inca
Please don't heed my shout I'm relax in the undertow

When Miss Moon lays down
And Sir Sun stands up
Me I'm found floating round and round
Like a bug in brandy
In this big bronze cup
Drowning here in Summer's Cauldron

Trees are dancing drunk with nectar
Grass is waving underwater
Please don't pull me out this is how I would want to go
Insect bomber Buddhist droning
Copper chord of August's organ
Please don't heed my shout I'm relax in the undertow

When Miss Moon lays down
in her hilltop bed
And Sir Sun stands up
raise his regal head
Me I'm found floating round and round
Like a bug in brandy
In this big bronze cup
Drowning here in Summer's Cauldron


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Now playing: XTC - Summer's Cauldron
via FoxyTunes Summer's Cauldron
XTC

Goats---the End of An Era

Little by little we're getting rid of the goats. It's a little heartbreaking---they've been such a big part of our lives for the last decade (or more). They're just not a good fit for us now, though, and we're so lucky to be finding good homes for them.

A Present!

The coolest thing happened today: I got a surprise gift in the mail. It is a wonderful book that I've had wishlisted at Amazon. I did a little research and discovered this post on cryptogon. What a lovely, lovely thing! I feel such a sense of delight, maybe out of proportion to the gift itself.

Thanks so much!

Fanny, the Little Tiny Baby Lamb

Fanny has grown a bit, as you can see from this picture. And no, she does not still live in the house!

Strawberries

The girls have been bringing home pails of wild strawberries, and Bernard makes the most wonderful ice cream with them, using heavy cream, the berries, and just a little bit of sugar. Makes a great supper!

A Poem by Marge Piercy

To be of use

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who stand in the line and haul in their places,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.
--- Marge Piercy

Rain

No pictures yet of the garden---we had a serious storm night before last, and my beds got a little beat up. I felt bad about it until I went out yesterday afternoon and saw whole driveways washed out into the road---suddenly my little bit of garden bed damage seemed pretty insignificant! The good news is that our half of the county is now out of drought according to the U.S. Drought Monitor----time for a party!

We're off to the market this morning. I'm not sure how long I'm going to keep doing the market---I'm not really making enough to justify the time, especially now, at such a busy time of the year.