My husband is a young man of 46. He has had grey hair the entire time I have known him. He recently decided to let it grow and grow and grow. A sharp contrast to the clean shaved face and head he sported last year. My husband loves his animals. There are some who try to bond with us and there are some we try to bond with regardless of their protests. We have a flemmish giant nest at the moment. They color is Chinchillia grey. We have been trying to get this color dominant on our farm as it was the original color of our first buck. The other day he was playing with the bunny as we were trying to get a picture of it and he placed it beside his head. He said, “I think he likes me, he’s got the same color hair” We laughed and enjoyed the moment of joy that the bunnies bring us. There are more and more moments of just joy in our lives.
We have very hard soil. It is clay, mixed with a bit of loam. It is dreadful to work with. This was one of the first reasons we decided to start farming rabbits. We needed their manure to help our soil. I have boughten many garden tools over the years. Most are made of cheap material that often end up in the scrap metal pile. I find that the best tools are often the older tools. Tools that were built to be used and to last a lifetime. We have purchased many at yard sales. Sometimes we need to put a new handle on it but it is definitely worth the hassle. Often we end up with a gardening treasure.
My other secret weapon is my trowel. It is not really a trowel, it is an entrenching tool. It was purchased from an army surplus store. It’s original purpose was to dig trenches. I think mine is from 1968. The sides can be sharpened to make digging even easier. It is just the right height for using as a spade. I don’t think I would have been able to get any plants in the ground had it not been for this handy tool. It is a little bigger than a real trowel so I can find it easier when I set it down.
I tried putting my tomatoes into my garden patch today. So far I got about 12 plants in. I have to periodically take a break every fifteen minutes as the chickens arrive to scratch the surface. I don’t blame them really. Our ground is loaded in earthworms because of the way we compost. I am glad that they don’t seem to want to peck at the tomatoe plants. At least when I am finished planting them, I won’t have to run chicken wire around them to protect them. I can see that they have made their way to the backyard once again, so I should take advantage of it and get back out. I am thinking before I get another four plants into the ground, all 15 of my chickens will be back again.
How many times in our life to we come across that person who you appreciate and love, but are constantly challenged by? I find that I tried to limit human relationships like that, only to discover that you can’t avoid this. It is a part of life.
Here on our little farm I am reminded daily of this challenge.
I have been diligently trying to get my plants and seeds into my garden. I have set seeds into starter pots and have nurtured them over the last five weeks. I wanted to get an early start with my garden and decided to place them in the ground. Our chickens have learned that a working person in the garden means juicy worms to eat so they run as fast as their legs can carry them to our side. I really did not mind them plucking the worms from the dirt that I dug from the holes. I did, however, feel challenged by them the moment I tried to put the seedling in the holes. Quicker than I could get the ground piled securely around the seedling, the chickens had snatched the seedling from its place.
A yell to my husband, to get “his” chickens out of my garden challenged my patience even more. He tried to defend the chickens and, explained that they like the tender plants just as much as people do. I learned over that day and the next, that the chickens were going to be a source of challenge for me. Every time I want to place a seed or seedling into the ground, I will have to figure out how to prevent the chicken from snatching it. I haven’t won this challenge yet and perhaps I never will. I do, however, need to understand that the chickens are going to continue to feast on my young seedlings. I am reminded that as much as I try to avoid relationships like this, they are inevitable, a part of life.
Black Berry Bush, or maybe a Raspberry, I really cannot remember. I do, however, remember purchasing it and digging it into the ground. I done so with many, many plants. What I have learned the most is, buy mature plants from the nurseries if you want to eat the fruit in the next ten years. Although I am quite excited to see my now two year bush emerge from the winter I do know that it will be another seven before I see whether is is a raspberry bush or a black berry one. I have blueberry bushes that are in the same stage of development. This year I got smart though and asked for a mature bush for Mother’s Day. My clever daughter went to the nursery to buy my plant and for just a little more cost, I will actually be able to pick some berries from my bush this year.
I have a home spa..and my children take full advance of my services. Ally my youngest is afraid of the cuticle trimmers. She fretted and fretted about them before I even used them. I tell her I cannot do the job right unless I do use them. She came up with a solution. She ran in her room and retrieved one of her sleep masks. She put it on and was able to then sit through the entire manicure without fretting anymore. She just trusted that I would not nip her. I wish all of my six children had the same trust. I wish I could have put a silly little mask on their heads to make all their fears go away.