Denise Domning writes, makes jelly and watches the weeds overtake her garden on her 8 acre farm in Cornville while tending to her 100 turkeys, 3 cows, 20-some chickens, 2 dogs and 8 cats.
I can hardly believe that the two little guys (who don't have official names for a reason) have been around for almost 3 months now. Not only that but in three months time they've gotten huge! They're almost as big as Peanut and Mari, their biological if not chronological siblings. Another three months and they'll be--gulp--rams!
The Mason Ditch (the stream/irrigation ditch that runs through the center of my property) was well on its way to being empty. Like "down to a trickle" empty.
Typing this post is going to be interesting. I've got tape on three fingers, two of the cuts are on my fingertips. I'm hoping writing this will break in the tape, as it were, so I can go back to work on the novel in progress.
It’s 3 PM on Sunday and I’ve had a glorious day. I’m still in my robe and jammies. This is the first time in more than five years that I have refused to dress for the day.
November. That is not a month most folks connect with tomatoes ripening on the vine. I sure wouldn't have, but there seems to be a lovely little miracle occurring in my new hugelkulture garden. If you recall, back in July I planted San Marzano tomatoes as a reward to myself. All those months ago I was fairly certain I wasn't going to get anything out of them, having planted so late.
It's a science geek-out day for me. Once again, I'm growing radishes, which I emphatically hate but cannot stop myself from eating. Not sliced in a salad, but the instant I pull them out of the dirt in my garden. It's like an addiction. I yank on the leaves, rub the little red bulb against my jeans, then consume it, grimacing the whole while. I absolutely hate them, but I can't stop myself. I must eat the radishes the instant they come out of the ground.
That's what happened on the farm yesterday morning. Creatures were moving at the speed of "lickety-split". Let me step back and set the scene for you.
Okay, they weren't precisely a surprise. I could see that Tiny was pregnant. But as of yesterday she didn't look nearly as tubby as she'd looked with her first lambs, so I figured there was another month to go.
Ya-HOO! I completed enough of the sheer drudgery work on my list that I took the day today to plant my first winter garden. The drudgery included putting the dirt back into the hole for the plumbing fix Al and I did a few weeks back. The fix is holding and it's now safe to refill the cavern. After that, I emptied the dirt from the somewhat smaller but wider cavern where Al and I fixed plumbing two years ago.
Dang it, I just finished editing the print version of the book and opened this page to start this post, only to remember that I have water running on my trees.